Chp 192. Pictures, laughter and others…

So it’s that time of the year again when one has to clear out all the photographs stored in one’s digicam because of the dreaded memory full.

Published here, are some of the funny ones for your “reading” pleasure.

…

I was stuck in a traffic jam on my way to work right behind this mini-bus. And I just couldn’t help smiling at the name of the vehicle.




Buthello? The name has a very funny ring to it. Maybe the owner is a big fan of Shakespeare, but the name Othello was already taken…

Or maybe the driver wanted to say “Bus Hello”, but between him and the painter some words got lost in translation…

It could also have a very kinky connotation…


This chat log will definitely make you smile too. How to piss off a fellow Arsenal supporter?






I love Pizzas. Smokin’ Joe’s one of my favorite joints, but then again, we don’t get that many choice so it’s not a big deal. The other night I decided to try out their new Chinese menu – Smokin’ Lee’s!




My opinion? Good food, but extremely small quantity and expensive. Definitely not a good value for money.




So, Smokin’s Joes is diversifying into Chinese menu. If they start coming up with South Indian food, what will it be called?




And if they open up a franchise in Mizoram?






Here is my good friend and ex-Delhi neighbour, Reuben (Ben) drummer of IIIrd Sovereign. RSJ [Rock Street Journal] even proclaimed him to be one of India’s finest drummers. He came to Mumbai the other day with the band Undying to perform at a gig.




He was head-banging throughout the concert.

And here is Ben that same night, NOT head-banging or drumming to hard core Death Metal…






Ah… sweet Ben


The other day, this canister of shaving foam suddenly exploded due to the rust caused by the rain seeping in through our bathroom window. Very strange sight indeed.






My sis and I made the best use of it of course.








And here is me with a corny Ad that will never make it to any print.




Cheers.

Chp 191. Girl, why have you forsaken me?

Have you ever had that feeling… when you suddenly realized there is a deep connection and understanding between you and somebody you’ve known for a long time?

Funny feeling, right?

I mean, for a long time she is just a friend, somebody you regularly correspond with over the Net… somebody you could always count on as a friend who’s always there when you need her the most. Sometimes you even end up taking her for granted because you are so used to her benevolence…

And then suddenly… WHAM! It hits you right in the face!



How could I have been so blind all these time? She was there for me when I dropped out of college… when I broke up with my ex… I found comfort and solace within her… She was there through all the difficult times I went through, and she never failed me.

She mails me regularly… just as she promised to do many years ago. She’s the reason why I am what I am today. She updates me with everything I need to know, right from news back in Mizoram, to the latest gossip in the celebrity circle.

She said she didn’t want me to be out of touch with important news just because I went through a rough patch, or because I was disconnected from my friends and family back home.

Finally I mustered enough courage to take our relationship to the next level. I didn’t want to be miserable for the rest of my life… I knew I ran the risk of spoiling everything we had, but as the saying goes, it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.

I use gmail.

So one fine day, I took a deep breath and replied to one of her emails. I expressed my complete raw uninhibited honest feelings for her, all in one go, and waited fervently for her reply…

She never did.



Maybe I crossed the line, I don’t know. Maybe she got psyched out. A part of me was cursing the same me for screwing up a very wonderful relationship.

I stopped receiving her emails for sometime.

That was my darkest 48 hours. It was then that I realized how lonely I was without her. Like that old 90s soft-rock Cinderella song, “you don’t know what you got, till it’s gone”, I came to see how pathetic my life was without her.

I missed her so much. I looked at all her old emails in my inbox, re-read them, and enjoyed each and every mail with extreme gratification.

And then suddenly, she started mailing me again. She never mentioned about my mail, but we both understood some things were best left unsaid.

After a few days, our relationship was (almost) back to normal.

In gmail, there is an option of inviting somebody for a chat if he or she is using a Google affiliated email account. Being the stubborn guy that I am, I could not go on without explaining to her about why I sent her that first email…

I invited her for a chat at gtalk and even added her on my chat list…

…


It’s been more than a month now and she still hasn’t accepted my invitation. I know, this sucks, but I would be so extremely grateful if she gives me the chance to explain…

That is why I have no other option but to publish about this incident on my blog with screenshots of my action as proof, in the hope that my plight might soften her heart a bit and that she would accept me as a chat friend at gtalk.

I keep my hope alive…


[Picture Gallery]

Here is me inviting her for a chat…




And here is me adding her on my “friends list” at gmail.




Finally, here is the woman of my dreams, still not accepting my invitation.

Chp 190. Limericks Part Two

I dug out this old draft of mine, which was supposed to be a sequel to the Mizo Onliners Limericks. I wrote it a long time ago before BW got married, and here I am publishing it now for your reading pleasure.

This time I have roasted only 4 people, four very dear friends of mine:

Jerusha [ Maimawm / Sundancer ]
Jimmy [ BlackWhite ]
Biteii [ Superstarr / Almost Unreal ]
Amos [ Goldmember / Fade_no_more ]



There once was a guy called Goldmember,
All the names of the BMA girls he remember.
Oh he was a real flirt,
until that fateful night,
his frustrated girlfriend snipped off his member.



There once was a guy called Fade_no_more,
To all the ladies he was such a bore.
You should see his tummy,
kinda like a pregnant mummy.
That’s why he has no other option but to whore.



There once was a girl called Maimawm,
during the weekends, she stays at home.
She keeps to herself.
A few porn on her shelf.
What's that on her blanket? Eww, looks like foam!



Let's get back to our friend Fade_no_more,
still alone, still single, living in Bangalore.
A hundred girlfriends he once had,
but wanna know what is really sad?
How many times had he kiss - the answer is four.



There once was a girl called Sundancer,
who does not believe in monogamy, no Sir!
Her roomies fixed her up,
with Ravi, Puia and Aftab.
She said, "No prob, as long as they drive a Lancer."



There once was a girl called superstar,
her boyfriend likes to call her a Pitar.
I think that is extremely bold,
to tell your girlfriend she is old.
Maybe that's why she stores her eggs in a jar.



Hmmm, one last time let's call upon Amos.
On Viagra he once tried to overdose.
He said there's no hope,
so he decided to dope.
The drugs kicked in, and he molested a garden hose.



Now it's the turn of Jerusha once again,
to all her friends she is such a pain.
She takes out her digi-cam,
and aims at our sausage & ham.
That's why her search for a boyfriend is still in vain.



Heehee, again there was a guy called Jimmy,
who tried to score with a girl called Mimi.
They started to caress,
but once they undress,
it turns out, he was wearing the same shimmy.



Our friend Jimmy is also known as BlackWhite,
and boy, he likes to wear his pants real tight.
He said it kinda gives him a high,
to show-off to the girls his thigh.
And believe me, his thighs aren't the only thing in sight.



Jimmy's finally getting married next month,
and with that, no more he's going to hunt.
Oh I really pity his wife,
leading a miserable life.
Whole night she’ll have to bear with his grunt.

Chp 189. One creepy night in the office...

I am still a bit shaken as I write this…

…

ZAF GYM. That’s the name of my office.

Nah, I am not working at the Gym helping Bollywood starlets and heroines lose fat that is protruding from weird places (yeah the place is crawling with celebrities, supposedly). My office simply happened to be on this building.

We occupy the 2nd and 5th floor of this highly coveted and renowned Mumbai Gym.

One of the perks of working in an Advertisement Agency is the extremely informal and relaxed work culture. Office timing is not such a big issue as long as we deliver what we’re supposed to. The office is open even on Saturdays and Sundays, and people walk in all the time to complete their respective projects any time of the day.

Today being a Sunday, and with the rain making it impossible for me to go to Colaba for the Mizo Church Service, I decided to go to office…

It took me 7 hours to complete a tiny project.

Around 8:30pm when I had completed my work and about to pack up and leave, I suddenly decided to update the “Latest Mizo Blog Posts” section at misual.com. By then I was already all alone on the 5th floor of our office, and the Gym downstairs had already closed, and its very dark outside…

Silence… eerie silence… filled the entire office…

I decided to update that section at misual.com quickly because I haven’t touched it in a long time due to heavy work schedule. I haven’t even written the second part of my previous post or even replied to all the insightful comments left by my dear visitors, because I need time to think and absorb what everybody wrote, so that I can write back a worthy reply.

As of now, time is something I cannot afford…

Anyway, I opened my Bloglines Feed quickly to look at all the Mizo Blogs that were updated or edited in the past one week, so that I could add the good ones and the ones with permission, at the misual.com side-bar link section.

As I browsed through all the new posts and edited posts, my sight fell on one particular feed that really spooked me out.

On July 5th 2008, a dear blog friend of mine Azaia (chabetkaia) passed away. He drowned at Lake Lanier, Atlanta, while boating with friends and family members. It was indeed a tragic day for his family, and for the entire Mizo community.

Pictures of his funeral are available here.

I am still trying to get accustomed to his absence… All those jokes and comments we used to share on each other’s blogs are still there… May he truly rest in Peace.

What I found really spooky just a few minutes ago, was when I was going through the complete Mizo blog list, looking at the ones that were updated or edited so that I could add them to misual.com…

And my eyes fell on this!



Quite spooky indeed…

That is Azaia’s Blog feed… with two posts recently edited... way after his demise!

I don’t believe in hauntings or the supernatural… I am sure it is just some technical glitch from bloglines.com’s part… I sure do hope it is just a freaking glitch …

Or maybe Azaia’s siblings or friends who know his password edited those posts…

But the fact that I am all alone at office 5th floor, with the only light in the entire office coming from the tube right above me while the rest of the large room is pitch-dark, aggravated by the fact that there is heavy rain, thunder and lightning right outside my very window… really seemed to put the chills through me.

Not a very good night to be all alone in office… neither is it a very comforting thought to realize that I am not as brave as I thought I was… But writing this out as a post in one go definitely seemed to brush the uneasiness away…

I will leave office now… I never planned to blog from here but circumstances changed my course… Goodnight, y’all.

Chp 188. Christian extremism Part I

Or… My fall from Grace

Or… Why it is difficult to be a Christian in Mizoram

Or… The things that people do that makes you NOT want to do what they do.


A Mizo-centric Post.


December 2006 was the most memorable experience I ever had in my entire life.

I went to a Spiritual Rehab Camp and spent nearly a month there. I was on the verge of becoming an alcoholic back then. What I experienced, changed me forever. I led a new life from then on, quit my immoral lifestyle and had a “NEVER AGAIN” tattooed on my arm to remind me never to go down that lane again. Now I just drink socially only on very special occasions (like my previous post) and am no way going to lead my old life again.

But when my friends and relatives asked me back then, I never used to say I was a born-again. I simply told them I had an amazing born-again-like experience. Because among other reasons, I was still heavily smoking and eating kuhva-hring (our local paan) even after the Camp, which I felt were two of the Worldly temptations people need to give up before they could call themselves Born-agains. A part of me just couldn’t admit that I was spiritually re-born.

That, and a few other reasons.

I started writing about Christianity-related articles. Stuff that I experienced and believed in. Some of them even appeared on “Jesus Calls” magazine and many Christian websites. It felt really good for a while, to be able to play even a minute role in spreading the name of our good Lord.

But then, being a writer and a reader, certain issues stared clashing in my head. Things that I used to believe in, weren’t exactly in line with what the preacher was talking about.

One such preacher went on the pulpit and sermoned about Hnam-feeling on the topic of Inter-racial relationships! What has Christianity got to do with this? At one point we were taught that our faith in the good Lord comes before anything else. And then suddenly there I was, listening to a person implying that our identity in being a Mizo comes before our identity in being a Christian!!!!!

Frankly speaking, I can understand people who talk about “identity” and isolationism. It happens not only all over India but throughout the World wherever there is a small close-knitted society. But for the love of God, please do not mix that with religion.

What about Christian non-Mizos? Are they “evil” according to this preacher? Believe me, there are a lot of non-Mizos who are wayyyyyy more Christian than many many Mizos. Having written many articles about Interracial relationships and how anti-miscegenists misinterpret the Bible, like "The Curse of Ham" for example, I had the sudden urge to stand up right there in the middle of the Church and debate with the speaker. And then I wondered, had I really done that, would I be branded as a blasphemer or a 666 ?

Well, if they had called me an anti-Christ, it wouldn’t be the first time.

A few fanatics call me a devil worshipper, simply because my arms are covered with tattoos (and I listen to Gothic). They throw verses from the Old Testament at me.

Leviticus 19:28
Do not cut your bodies for the dead or put tattoo marks on yourselves. I am the LORD.

Funny though, that the same Leviticus chapter, right before this verse states:

Leviticus 19:27
Do not cut the hair at the sides of your head or clip off the edges of your beard.

And yet I see a lot of clean shaven Christians among those calling me a devil worshipper.

People say it is easy to be a Christian in Mizoram because it is a Christian majority State. Well, let me tell you the truth. It is HARDER to be a Christian in Mizoram than any other place in the World.

So what if Christians are persecuted in some of the Arab nations and a tiny village in Africa? So what if Christians are hunted in China and North Korea? In Mizoram, your intellection and ability to rationalize things get persecuted.

First of all, there is the community pressure. You either join the bandwagon or become an outcast. So sometimes people don’t really know if they are Christians purely out of what they believe in or because of what their neighbors believe in.

The danger to this is that, people not really sure about their faith, start coming up with their own interpretation of Bible verses. Ridiculous interpretations that magnifies their illiteracy. The Bible is not just our Holy Book. We need to study it deeply. We cannot just modify verses from it so that it benefits us.

Secondly comes the community gossips.

My mom is a good Christian. She has instilled Christianity in all her four children and I am what I am today because of her. She has shown me the love and passion of Jesus Christ. But I heard from my friends who heard it from their mothers that some of the other mothers in our locality ridiculed my mother’s faith in Christianity.

Why? Simply because she never takes part in the daily early Morning Prayer service at our local Church where many mothers come. Unlike most of the other mothers who are housewives, my mom is pushing a highly responsible job as a Reader and senior Lecturer at CTE while looking after my two nieces. With none of her four children at home and a husband who retired way back in 1998, she simply has no time for this daily service, although she never misses the Wednesday night, Saturday night and Sunday services. What rights do those jobless so called “Christian” mothers have, to bitch about my mom?

Third reason: The fact that people exploit Christianity to get what they want. I am so sick of seeing politicians and officers with shady backgrounds stand on the pulpit to deliver the message of Christ. I’ve seen those same politicians try to use their influence in the Church to get votes during election time!

My dear Mizoram burns slowly, and this pains me so much. When will the people of Mizoram wake up? Church leaders, please do not accept those huge chunk of donations from politicians… it may look generous, but most of it is dirty money from corruption. Corrupt tithe makes the Church corrupt.

The fourth and final reason why it is so difficult to be a Christian in Mizoram?

Ridiculous sermons.

I will put this up in the sequel of this post. It’s about the crazy stuff that I’ve heard people say to the mass. Stuff that makes you cringe on your seat… It’s a pretty long post, so I have divided this into two so as to capture your utmost attention.

The greatest danger to all these is that people can actually lose faith in Christianity because of such rubbish floating around. I have seen my own friends wane away from Christianity because they are fed up of all the absurd bullsh*t that is shoved down their throat. One of my closest friends from Chanmari, a name that I frequently mention on my blog, renounced Christianity a couple of years back, and it really breaks my heart to see that.

More and more people will start voicing their displeasure publicly. Our sad little city where the shit doesn’t stink and The Other Side are just two of them. I know, I cannot change the way such people think and I have no rights to do that either. I respect them for such honest thoughts, but I can definitely try changing the system to prevent others from thinking that way. That is my prerogative.

A prayer, no matter how small, is never lost.

We take pride in sending out so many missionaries all over the World. I agree that is a very noble deed, but I sincerely feel we need to clean up our own backyard first. Random people who “experienced the light” should by no means be allowed to preach. Preaching is not just about what you went through. You should also have the ability to be a good speaker and make the audience listen. Leadership is a must quality here. No wonder politicians make such good preachers.

Hope you will come back to read the second part to this post.

See you, and keep the faith. God bless you and God bless Mizoram.

- Kima.

Chp 187. Webchutney’s nite-out

So what happens when an Ad agency suddenly decides to throw an impromptu office party?

All the guys immediately think, “wooohooo free booze!” whereas the first thing on a girl’s mind is, “Shit, I’ll have to go home and change.”

And so there we were. Woman instinct versus Man’s thoughtless disregard for dress-code at times like this. Ah, (we) men!

Women think, “It’s a party at a well-renowned disc with lots of people… I’ll have to look ravishing!” whereas men wonder: “There’s gonna be lots of booze anyway, so after sometime every girl is going to look equally hot. Why then go through the extra trouble of trying to look prettier?” And so we put on our primitive linen sacks, grab our wooden clubs and scream, “Grufff gruff, me like party!”

The party was held at Hawaiian Shack, Bandra. The entire second floor belonged to us, and we definitely made the best out of it.

Here is a tiny little problem when Ad agencies throw a private party. We simply don’t know when to turn it off The Tech team started commenting on the positioning of the lights, sound and wiring system. The art and graphics team felt the whole place could be more appealing with lesser pixels on the disco-light frame and more texture on the histogram of the wallpapers using Photoshop CS3. The customer relationship team mingled with the crowd downstairs and we never heard from them again. And the creative team, in particular the copywriters, started talking in copywriterese after a couple of drinks…

Copywriter 1: Dude… Feeling down? Feeling tired? Looking for a permanent solution to all your worries? Look no further! Just go refill your glass with a Bacardi Reserva! Apply now!

Copywriter 2: Sorry, man. I am lost. I am confused. I feel like I am living in a surreal world. A Bacardi may show me where the light is, but only an Old Monk can take me there! Plus it is a one day offer only!

Copywriter 1: Ok then, go ahead. What are you waiting for? Your road to freedom is just a gulp away. And that’s not all! There are exciting benefits and special offers guaranteed to blow your mind away!

Copywriter 2: Cheers! Salute! Prost! À votre santé! These are just mere words, but only with an Old Monk does the true emotion come out! CHEERS!

Yeah, we sure do love to talk in exclamation marks!

Ok, all jokes apart, it was an amazing night. Webchutney definitely knows how to go all out with guns blazing when it comes to partying. The girls from Bombay Bitch were also there, and a few others I was introduced to but no way in Hell can I remember those names now. Everything felt like a comfortable boat ride across a psychedelic river in the middle of a turbulent earthquake.

Hawaiian Shack - The music transformed slowly from retro to rock to progressive to hiphop to trance. The food was great, the service was remarkable, the PR was excellent, and the crowd definitely rocked! But what I loved the most about that night was of course the free booze, a concept that I was alien to. Cheap me!

Dancing in front of the huge blaring speakers, I could shout into a female colleague’s ears “Hey what did the client say regarding the mailer we sent about the weekend bonanza?” and she would reply, “Yeah me too, I am having a terrific time!”

That’s the fun about loud rooms. You can say anything you want and get away with it. I told Rianna her tattoos were coming off because of the sweat and friction. She shouted back, “Yes the loo is downstairs”. I went up to Veera and screamed “I’m into women!” while pointing my finger around the disc and giving the thumbs-up sign as if to express that I was having a great time, and she would shout back, “Me too!”

You often hear people complain that their office parties stink because they despise the behavior of some of their colleagues. Well, that’s the beauty of being in an Ad Agency. Everybody shares the same wavelength, the same mentality, and sometimes even the same vada pav.

With unlimited booze, you end up seeing a lot of things. Funny things. Things that cannot be mentioned here But the bottom-line is that it brings everybody closer. I told our Branch Head that the way she was dancing made her shine like GOLD.

I repeat, GOLD!

All in all, it was a happy night for everybody and after that it was back to the grind. Parties like this definitely deliver the much needed break from a hectic life-cycle of an Ad agency.



# Signs that you had too much to drink at the previous night’s office party:

1. You walk up to a female colleague and compliment her on how graceful she danced the previous night, only to be told straight in the face that she was never even there for the party!
   
   
2. You head feels like a piledriver drilling inside… all the slogans and taglines you try to think up of for any client the next day always include the words “rocking”, “yo” and “wooohoooooo”.
   
   
3. Your boss comes up to you and say “Lets never talk about what we did last night again… ever!” which can get even more complicated if your boss belongs to the same sex as you.
   
   
4. The Finance team gives you the evil-eye the whole day, as if to say, “bastard the amount you drank last night set our company’s annual turnover back by 5%”
   
   
5. You walk up to the first guy you see in office the next day and say, “Mannn, last night there was one guy crying in the loo. I don’t remember who he is, but he was definitely one of ours. I even patted him on the back.” And the guy replies, “Bastard! That was me! And I was NOT crying. Some asshole was slicing onions on the dance floor…”

Ah! To be alive and partying.

So eventually, remember: If you dread going to the office the next day because you are embarrassed about what you did in front of your colleagues, then cheer up, for you had an absofreakinglutely amazing time! Wooohoooo!!!

Chp 186. Airing!

Ah the amusement of airing! A comical incident with an auto-driver a few days ago:

Whenever I travel by an auto all alone, I usually listen to my mp3 player which I always carry with me. My playlist consists of an assorted collection of trance, rock, hiphop, scandinavian gothic and country. The auto I took that day happened to be one of those “hi-fi” autos with huge speakers at the back complete with woofers, sub-woofers and tweeters.

And just when I was mesmerizing to the song of “wish you were here” by Floyd, my dear driver suddenly decided to blast the music from his auto!

It was indeed not a very pleasant time listening to a “remix” of Pink Floyd and some marathi song in the background.



So I switched to Rammstein and pumped up the volume to max on my mp3 player because I didn’t have the heart to tell him to switch off his music as he just looked so damn happy enjoying the music.

After sometime I too got into the groove and eventually started air-guitaring and air-drumming to stein and Rob Zombie. Yeah that was me. I just love to do those if I really enjoy a particular song.

And the funny thing was, every time a vehicle overtook us or we stopped at a red signal, people around my auto always looked at me and smiled. And then I realized why! To those people, it must have been amusing to see me air-guitaring and air-drumming to a marathi song with such a serious face!

I love to air-guitar. Maybe it’s because I can’t actually play the guitar in real life, I don’t know…

Knowing just the basic chords and a few popular leads like sweet child o’ mine and nothing else matter, I guess air-guitaring is the next big thing for a person like me. I hear they even have a worldwide competition on air-guitaring!

Anyway, some of us just love to air things… Funniest thing is when I’m suddenly thinking about a basketball move and I am there sitting in a crowded bus suddenly air-shooting, when I realize others are looking at me! With my hands up in the air I then had to act as if I was yawning or stretching

I have seen many guys air-bowling as if they are playing in a cricket world cup. I’ve seen people air-kicking a football. And yes, I’ve noticed people air-smashing as if they are in a volleyball, tennis or badminton match. That’s the fun about airing. The higher your power of imagination is, the more fun it is to air stuff.

We even air-sing, holding an imaginary mike in our hand when our favorite song is playing on the boom box. We air anything that we like or do. Some like to air-hiphop by mimicking west-coast east-coast symbols with their fingers, or sometimes just the plain old “three seconds violation” symbol Bhangra music fans air-bhalle bhalle. Tamil music lovers air-…. can't describe it in words, you know what I’m talking about right?

Won’t it be funny if people start airing things that they do occasionally? I’m trying to picture many of my blog-friends air-typing as they travel in a train or while sitting in the loo! Hehehee.

Politicians would be there air-accepting kickbacks, and we the aam aadmi would be there air-bribing an imaginary cop. Heh that would be a funny sight indeed. Activists would be air-throwing a stone, “Get Gorgeous” and “Splitsvilla” girls would be air-bitching about the other contestants, and boybands would be there air-lipsyncing.

Reminds me of an old sexist joke our chemistry lab professor told us a long time ago in School: “Why do auto drivers’ wives have bigger left breasts than their right? Because they intend to press that side while they are sleeping thinking it’s the horn.” And we would all laugh. Spare me the sexism, I was brought up in a residential boys boarding school

Wonder how air-doggying would be like?

……

……

Ah... Air-doggying is about getting down on all fours and mimicking a bark. What were you thinking???

One of the most prominent airing actions in our Indian society to me is the south Indian action for eating. You take your hand to your mouth and that means you’re asking/telling someone if they want to eat or whether they have eaten. The Russell Peters take on this action was hilarious. As for me, I still have the habit of doing that, along with the “horizontal head shake” and I really enjoy doing them.

Looking forward to getting together with a couple of hard rock fans and spending the evening air-performing songs like fear of the dark, enter sandman, a tout le monde, cemetery gates, feel so numb etc and pushing up the notch later to children of bodom, slipknot, testament etc. The greatest thing about doing all these is that nobody’s ever gonna tell you your guitar is out of tune or you missed a beat… Oh such a fun night it would be!

No wonder guys like us don’t have girlfriends

Keep airing. Cheers!