Archive for the ‘Events’ Category

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The Road to Taste of India

April 10, 2013

I recently saw Road, Movie and it proved to be a quite an interesting watch. A movie about a mobile cinema being transported through a desolated desert, with just a handful of characters and no song-dance routines – a tough task for a director to keep an audience interested. But a compact and tight script with good actors and a brilliant background score had me engrossed.

There was an very interesting scene in the middle of the movie, where Satish Kaushik brings Abhay Deol and gang to a place in the middle of nowhere, expecting a mela of some sorts to be going on where they could show their movie. Disappointed, Abhay starts venting his frustration, but Satish confidently tells Abhay to setup his cinema. “Cinema hoga toh mela bhi hoga. Khana hoga, paani hoga, log bhi aayenge.” And guess what, thats what happened. The movie of course was a disaster at the box office. No song and dance. Come on. But then, that is not the point I am trying to make.

AID Penn State had its fifteenth annual food festival, The Taste of India on Saturday and as always the event turned out to be a sublime blend of various cultures coming together to make the evening very special. I have been a part of the volunteering team for this event for a few years now, and every time I try to imagine how someone could have conjured up this idea back then, to cook food for over 500 people. That too, Indian food; for the culinary complexities differ depending on which part of the country one comes from. To someone from Gujarat, Kadak would be an evening snack, while to someone like me, it would rather refer to a special kind of tea. I once remember being an audience to a conversation between two friends who were arguing as to how Idilees should be made – both guys were from different states. I ended up  having a sandwich for dinner that night. But I digress.

So to conceive this idea of cooking Indian food – that too vegetarian food in a predominantly meat-eating country – for such a huge gathering and then, expect people to show up for it is like expecting Sachin and Ponting to bat for the same team. Oh wait, isn’t that happening this year in the IPL.

So while this idea was bold and out of the box back in the day, it worked, because it was a good idea. Indian food is tasty, there are no two ways about it. And once a recipe is fixed upon, then the execution is straight forward. Heat oil, throw in cummin seeds, fry the onions, add turmeric powder … you get the gist. And then, when you have a strong student-community bonding to top it off, then to make an idea like this to work is like asking Shahrukh Khan to overact in a scene.

ToI has slowly evolved with time. As students come and go, new logistics are thrown in. Some stick, some are forgotten. But it really is endearing to see a lot of alumni make it a point to come for this event and make it an evening to remember.

Here’s to the hope that ToI gets tastier with every passing year.

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The ODK Story

April 18, 2012

After the debacle of the 2007 Cricket World Cup, I had all but given up cricket. But, later in the year, having arrived at Penn State, I started to miss the game so much that I looked for any and every opportunity to get bat on ball. There were times in class when I thought of asking the professor to bowl a few balls to me.

Having spoken to a few seniors, I learned that there was an eclectic mix of students and faculty members who played at the Orchard Park on weekends. It was great fun to field on the lush outfield and be able to whack the ball without having to worry about it crashing into someone’s window pane. Games were played at leisure, with wise-cracks and quips all part and parcel of the weekly outing in the park. And then the unexpected happened. India won the inaugural T20 World Cup. A sort of cricketing fervor gripped the Desis at Penn State. Every nook and corner had a Desi practicing a Yuvi-to-Broad six or a Shreesanth-to-Hayden ball with palms slapping the ground in jubilation after having the stumps uprooted.

In 2008, when the Penn State Cricket Club (PSCC) decided to organize a Fall tournament, we immediately registered our team. However, contrary to our own over-the-roof expectations, we failed to make it even to the quarter-finals. In 2009, The Orchard Dark Knights (ODK) name was coined but the result remained the same. We ended a miserly 9th rank out of 10 teams. In 2010, our team finally got a grip on the way things were supposed to be. We made it to the Semi-Finals for the first time and gave the eventual winners a tough fight in that game. By 2011, a lot of the original ODK members had retired (graduated) and there was very little chance that we would have enough players to form a team once again. But again, India winning the World Cup in April 2011, instilled a new vigor amongst all of us. So a new team with a new captain was formed; but we stuck to the original name – The Orchard Dark Knights. Starting off strongly in the tournament, our fitness began to tell by the time we reached the Semi-Finals. In a hard fought match, which went down to the last ball, we lost to the eventual champions – The White Tigers.

Come Spring 2012. The ODKs played their opening game against The Falcons. The team seemed determined to make a good start to the tournament and went on to win the game comfortably. The next game for the ODKs was against Bomb Squad. Having been set a stiff target of 95 runs to chase in 15 overs, the ODK were helped by their opponents being understaffed in the fielding department and ran away to a comfortable victory. With 2 wins out of 2, it was time for the ODKs to face their nemesis from the previous year – The White Tigers. Put into bat, the White Tigers started off slowly, but as their confidence grew, so did their run rate. In a high scoring, breath-taking encounter, the White Tigers held their nerves to beat the ODKs by 4 runs. In their final league match, the ODKs then took on the Jager Bombers on a pitch that seemed to have come straight from Bridgetown, Barbados. Uneven bounce and some good bowling kept the ODKs down to a respectable target on a smallish ground. However the ODKs held their catches and made some interesting bowling changes to win the game and ensure a position in the Semi-Finals.

The Semi-Finals was a repeat of the previous year – ODK vs White Tigers. The ODKs started off briskly scoring at more than 8 runs per over during the Power Play. But after having lost a couple of quick wickets, the runs suddenly dried up. Some lofty shots in the last few overs allowed the ODKs to set the White Tigers a target of 120 to get in 15 overs. But the White Tigers were not ones to give up without a fight. They kept chipping away at the target getting an occasional boundary or six on the way. The match again went down to the last over but this time around the ODKs bowled to a plan and denied the White Tigers a victory. The ODKs had finally made it to their first Final.

In the Final, their opponents were the Blue and White Warriors who had yet to lose a match in the tournament and yet to lose more than 2 wickets in an innings. Their openers got the team off to a blazing start hitting fours and sixes at will. The ODKs looked very flat in the field and the toll of having played 5 back-to-back games seemed to be telling on them. At the end of 10 overs, the Blue and White Warriors seemed well set to go past 180 of their 20 overs. But some spirited bowling towards the end overs pulled the run rate down and the ODKs were set a target of 163. The ODKs kept the asking rate within reach throughout their innings and went on to chase the target well within 20 overs.

It has been a fabulous weekend of entertaining cricket. Kudos to the Organizers for having a tab on all the match proceedings and keeping the captains updated about their respective schedules. Here is hoping for many more entertaining tournaments to come.

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Bunty ki Shaadi

June 22, 2008


“Kaun Bunty? Aur Bubli ka kya hua?” – you think. But before you Miss-understand, let me elaborate.

Last weekend I happened to get a chance to watch Rockford and was taken for a trip down memory lane. I never had the privilege of staying in a boy’s hostel but the twelve years that I spent at St. Vincent’s will always be special, and as every scene of the movie unfolded, I felt a strong connection return towards my alma mater.

Time has flown. But it seems only yesterday that I stood at the main gate for the first time. The obvious fear of the first day at school, completely over-awed looking at the sprawling lawns, spellbound by the gargantuan building that stood magnificently beyond them. Will I ever come out, if I enter this strange place, my childish mind wondered.

Rich in tradition, austere in tutelage and spirited in conduct, Vincents was the perfect place to build character; and surrounded by teachers of the highest caliber made learning all the more easy. Yes, we learnt it all there. From developing secret crushes on the primary school library teacher to enjoying chutney sandwiches at the small canteen to migrating to high school with mixed feelings, partially disappointed that we could no longer attend library class but equally eager to see whether in fact the grass was greener on the other side of the ground.

High school was more than we could imagine. Friends were made, groups were formed and St. Annes’ girls were hated. PT periods were spent in valiant football games with the sole aim being to thrash the opponent, short breaks were an opportunity to attack your partner’s dabba, lunch breaks were used to develop newer forms of cricket with rules that had the potential to put Twenty Twenty to shame. School bells were awaited with bated breath and hushed countdowns, followed by shouting and yelling and races to the rickshaw to see who catches the window seats.

Repeated rehearsals in the Gulati Hall in anticipation of the Annual day, competetive team selections inorder to win the best House Trophy at Sports Day, noisy discussions in class regarding prospective destinations for the annual Class Picnic but eventually landing up at Ryewood Park, Lonavala, planning ambitious plans for Diwali and Christmas vacations followed by last minute studying for Final Exams. Yes we learnt more than what we had imagined.

The penultimate year of High School brought along its own share of drama. The ten day National Cadet Corps (NCC) Camp came up and we walked away with the best March Past tropy under the noses of a very unexpecting audience. Competition stiffened in the later half of the year, tuition classes were attended, bringing along interaction with the fairer sex. Clandestine relations were discussed, rumours spread, pranks played.

Final year of High School. We won the marching competition at Centrafest trouncing every troupe in sight and this time around we were definitely not under-dogs. Centrafest was not only used by many to discover their hidden talents but also to show off in front of the now slowly-but-surely developing babes, an opportunity to get back at those Bishopites of whom we were a tad jealous. Life was not fair. Why did they get a Socials and a chance to openly date those chicks from Helenas? Why were we not given an opportunity to allow our two left feet to demonstrate their skills? Why couldnt we have a Fete? We also wanted to show that below that stiff Vincentian upper lip lay a warm heart capable of amorous sensations. Fate conspired and yet we aspired. And why did Nature have to be so cruel? The very bevy that was once considered a pain in the neck was now causing us to go weak at the knees.

And as I turn to those pages of erstwhile days, I notice that friends have come and gone. Some remembered and most forgotten. But admist all the rigmarole that school life brings along, a few friendships have stood the test of time. And amongst those friends is Bunty aka Anna or Kela to many. I have had the privilege of being his partner (not life partner otherwise this blog would have swung a different way) during Junior College, and as is his wont, he truely has been the source of joy and mirth for a lot of us. His penchant for Hindi professors is still vividly spoken about at School. Some thought he was their right hand man, some thought he was Mr. Bechara. His answer ‘Das is in St. Vincents’ almost caused the German teacher to give up teaching, but yet she persevered. His Girme gaffe has brought the roof down on many a reunions. Truely his antics are beyond the publishing capacity of this blog.

And yet despite being the cynosure of mirth amongst us friends, he truely stands first among equals. He shot to fame at the AISSMS College of Pharmacy and Fate so had it that I unexpectedly landed up at the same college. It was here that I truely got a chance to see Bunty evolve from the Pandora’s Boxer to become the Shahrukh of his department. The perfect TDH (tall, dark, handsome) hero for a desi version of a M&B (Mills & Boon), this lad stole many a heart and then lost his to the soon-to-be-missus. With Lady Luck by his side, he ‘synapse’d to success bringing laurels to his department with every venture. Later on, the Madhavan of our group proudly plucked a Purdue admit and pranced his way to glory. Even there he continues to break new grounds. His cricketing prowess have been overshadowed by his hitherto hidden singing skills as he continues to win Antakshari competition after competition. And if that was not enough, he salsas his way on and off stage with finesse.

And today when our very own Bunty is about to tie the connubial knot with the love of his life, I feel sorry that I cannot be a part of this happy occasion. From those ‘Sunny’ days when we used to roam DP road checking out babes under the pretence of shopping, to being on the same athletics team bringing home medals for our school, to hear Moogie yell out ‘Dastan Abdul Narayan Dilruba’ as we stood around his table, to being introduced to the soon-to-be missus everytime I bumped into them during college, to enjoying cuppas of coffee at PANGS meets at Chandni Chowk every weekend, Bunty has been the part of many a happy times.


Shakespeare said

Now join your hands
And with your hands
Your hearts

And as two hearts are about to begin to beat as one, I wish this perfect couple all the joys and pleasures of a happy married life. And as you start out on this wonderful journey together, I hope that the bliss you feel today stays forever. May the love grow stronger and deeper.

Bunty, today you truely are a complete man.

God Bless.

Amen.


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Taste of India

April 20, 2008
Wrote this article for ‘Sankalp’ – presented by Association for India’s Development:

I came to Penn State in the Fall of 2007 to pursue my Masters. My seniors had made me cognizant of the huge Indian stronghold at Penn State, thus relieving me off a lot of my fears. But it was only when I actually came in contact with the ‘Association for India’s Development’ chapter at State College did I really understand the power of ‘togetherness’.

My association with AID began on a warm sunny September afternoon, when I volunteered to be a part of the food-stall at the Beaver Stadium during the Penn State vs Florida International football game. We sold hot-dogs and water bottles, all the while feeling appeased by the fact that while PSU was thrashing Florida, the money we were earning was going for a noble cause.
On the occasion of International Night organized by Global Connections, AID volunteers put up a small dance show at the Medler Field. As A.R Rahman’s voice reverberated throughout the stadium, I began to recognize a new meaning of patriotism. Before coming to the US, my idea of patriotism was very abstract and vague. But leaving one’s family and homeland gives a new perspective to a lot of things.
Initially starting off with a vision statement “Problems are interconnected, so must be the solution.”, AID, as a whole, has been a great eyeopener for me. The weekly Community Service Hour (CSH) on Thursdays has now become a strong medium of connecting with a facet of India which I knew existed, but never ever gave a thought to. At CSH, problems like ‘Farmer’s suicide’ were rigorously discussed, videos on ‘Right to Information’ were played, site visits from Parivartan to Prerna were described, regular updates on existing projects like ‘Jagrutha Mahila Sanghatan’ were given. All these activities made me realise that inspite of being away from our country, there are many channels through which we can still remain attached to it. The umbilical cord need not be broken.
But AID is not only about CSH and fund raising. In a short span of 6 months, I have also been a witness to a plethora of fun and frolic. The AIDSC annual Diwali gathering made all us freshers feel as if we were back home celebrating with our families. It was an evening where all of us came together to celebrate and wish each other joy and happiness for the new year.
The Food Fest is a very important event and a platform through which AID attempts to reach out to people from different walks of life. Being a part of AID has made a huge impact on my short period as a student at Penn State. To many, AID’s activities may seem like shifting sand against the tide, but I truely believe that “If you build it, they will come…”
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A Ball of a Party

January 1, 2008

After a brief period at the tail end of the semester, where caffeine intake had hit astronomical levels, sleep had become a phenomenon that could only be dreamt off and the posterior had begun to hurt just by the thought of sitting, it was finally holiday time and a time to plan what to do for New Years.

Ever since I first visited New York City a few months ago, I wanted to attend the famous Ball drop at Time Square on New Year’s Eve, especially since it was going to be exactly a 100 years since the first ever ball dropped to usher in the new year at Times Square.
And so after much ado about nothing, finally five of us Penn Staters reached NYC at noon and immediately made our way to Times Square – 43rd & 7th (43rd street and 7th avenue) – eager to be in time to capture a good view point. It was around 3 pm and we were welcomed by a huge batallion of law enforcers. A few carefully worded questions to one such member revealed that neither back-packs nor alcohol were allowed into the arena. One of my friends was carrying a back-pack inside which were carefully hiding 8 cans of chilled beer. Imagine his despondence when he realised that he would have to throw away the beer inorder to get into the viewing arena. After having carefully deposited 7 cans (he slipped 1 beer under his jacket) into the nearest trash-can, we returned. After being casually frisked we were let into 1 of the many pens that had been created for the event. It was 4 pm and the crowd had already filled up so much that the closest we could get was 47th & 7th. (An hour later and another PSU group informed us their pen as 55th & 7th)
The first one hour we soaked in the bubbling atmosphere around us and the dazzling lights emanating from the video screens sprawled all over the place. But soon it started to get dark and a sharp winter breeze began to make its presence felt amongst us. At 6 pm the 1,212-pound crystal ball was set atop the flagpole on the roof of One Times Square. The show was about to begin.
Apart from pre-recorded music there were a lot of live performances by celebrities I had never heard off. All in all the music was quite a disappointment. Gasolina (Daddy Yankee) and Bring it On (Lenny Kravitz) were the only numbers that were worth shaking a leg to. An announcement claimed that a certain Carrie Underwood was going to be the star of the night and would appear later on in the night.
By around 7 pm I started getting bored and hungry. I looked at my watch a millionth time calculating the time left to midnight, and then re-sunk my face into my jacket in another vain attempt to dodge the cold breeze. Suddenly I noticed a movement to my right and I looked up. A couple clad in black was causing a bit of a stir amongst the group of people next to me. They were cutting across the crowd claiming that they needed to go to their hotel across the street. But as soon as they reached a spot in front of us – which was the best vantage point in the pen – they stopped and started enjoying the show. Smart alecks, I thought as I carefully started checking out the two of them. The guy was short with short hair and looked like an Italian romeo of sorts. The girl was a real looker. Curly black hair let loose, wheatish complexion and large round earings, clad in a black leather jacket and blue denims. After about 15 minutes of clapping and cheering, both of them suddenly decided to try out some moves they well might have planned in their hotel room. Smooching, cuddling, nuzzling, back-bending followed by some more smooching, cuddling and nuzzling. Suddenly I din’t feel cold anymore. All important parts of me began to feel warm as I witnessed this unprecedented display of affection. I carefully started taking mental notes on ‘How to make out’ with a concentration that would augment me better if attained during lectures as well.
The couple continued to lock lips for the next 20 minutes completely oblivious to the crowd around them. Other couples tried to compete by hugging and swaying to the music but they were no match for the fiery couple in front of me. A few disgruntled people suggested on booking them a hotel room. With bated breath I waited for them to mate.. oops… sorry… waited for them to separate. Suddenly the girl opened her eyes and noticed that I was staring at them (lips). I knew she knew (FRIENDS style) I was looking, but I looked on undeterred. I felt my biceps could handle romeo incase a brawl ensued. But the girl instead of unlocking her lips just stepped, swerved and turned; and the guy not too keen on unlocking followed like a pomeranian would follow his master, and before I could say ‘Romeo’ they were lost in the crowd. I heaved a sigh and looked at my watch again.
Four more hours yet to go and finally I decided to give my legs a bit of a rest. I sat down on the road only to realise that the cold surface was beginning to freeze my posterior. I quickly got up and started jogging to keep the warmth flowing through my body. But the more I exherted myself to keep warm, the more I could feel the energy being drained out of me. I realised I had to store my resources. My friends started sipping the one can of beer that they had clandestinely smuggled into the arena. I refrained. I needed hot coffee. I leaned over the railing of the pen and looked up and down the pathway. A line of cops separated me from the nearest coffee shop. I had a good mind to hail one of the cops and suggest him to get a cup of coffee for me. But this was not India.
Three hours and temperature hovering around 0 degrees Celcius. Torture. Time began to drag. My mind for want of something began to wander. The analogy related to the theory of relativity which I had read somewhere in school came to mind, “When a man sits with a pretty girl for an hour, it seems like a minute. But let him sit on a hot stove for a minute and it’s longer than any hour. That’s relativity”. I wanted to write my own analogy, “When a guy watches a couple making out in the cold for an hour, it seems like a minute. But let him stand alone in the cold for a minute, and its longer than any hour”.
My body slowly but surely started to give way. Numbness had started to set in. My legs started to cramp. I sat down once again. All I wanted right then was a warm cup of coffee to keep me going. I began to realise what fortitude and commitment it must be taking our soldiers on the border to endure inclement weather conditions and yet be able to sustain intense levels of alertness for never-ending periods of time.
Gradually the mind too started to lose its ability to maintain sanity. Here we were, 5 of us, after having woken up at 6 am in the morning, travelled 4 hours, walked for 2 hours across half of Manhattan, and then stood for almost 10 hours, just to chant “10, 9, 8….” in chorus with 1 million other spectators at the world’s biggest party. Just for those 10 seconds of glory we spent 1 full day of torture. Is this worth the trouble? I began to lose my sensibility. Was I hallucinating? I looked at my watch again. Half an hour to go. “Hold on Sid, hold on!” I told myself and stood up again. Twists, turns, jiggles, deep breaths; all possible movements that could keep my mind and body in sync for somemore time. 15 minutes, 10 minutes, 5 minutes…
Last 5 minutes… “Imagine” by John Lennon began to play. I let the lyrics sink into the depths of my soul. “Imagine all the people living for today….”
1 minute to go. The countdown began…. 60, 59, 58….. I shouted and jumped with hands high up in the air at every number. Last 10 seconds… 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Fireworks exploded into the dark sky and a great roar of cheer followed from the denizens of Time Square. It was 2008. Finally. The pain emanating from all parts of my body had suddenly disappeared as I pranced up and down yelling and shrieking “Happy New Year!!!” And then I felt it. I felt that it WAS truly worth the experience. Because I realised that our lifes too follow a similar pattern? We struggle the whole day wondering whether at the end of the day was it worth the effort. What did I gain? We work our asses off the whole year, just so that we get that 10% hike in our salaries. We wake up every morning hoping that today will be the day when our fortunes will take a turn for the better. There are times when we are totally down and out, defeated. We perform at the best of our ability and still meet with failure. We want to do something else but can’t because we are check-mated by that conspirator called Fate. When we feel so vulnerable that all we wish for is a miracle. Some quirk of fate that will set the die rolling in our favour…
But as they say, “Fortune favours the brave.” So heres to a Brave 2008. Wishing all of you a Happy and a Joyous New Year. Success to all your dreams, goals and endeavours. Keep the faith!!!
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Jab They Met

November 16, 2007

As predicted by the Weather Channel, State College and me were welcomed to a snowy Diwali, and being a Friday, I had a early morning shift at my part-time job. As I made my rounds of the computer labs on campus, enjoying the novel experience of having frozen flakes rather than wet droplets fall on my head, I looked forward to a couple of Diwali parties that I had been invited to on the weekend. The first one was a pooja cum pot-luck party organised by the IGSA seniors, and becoming notorious for landing up at such parties sans self-prepared food, I decided to make my favourite ‘Sooji ka Halwa’ to make amends at the start of a new year. The party, being part of a pooja, went off smoothly without much ado and I went back home on Friday night wondering what the second party on Saturday would have to offer. For the second party, organised by AID (Association for India’s Development) of which I happen to be an out-standing (literally) member, was infact a surprise send-off party for one of the more active members, Anirban, who was going back to India to become Raymonds, a ‘complete’ man.

Being fond of springing surprises myself, I headed to the party enthusiastically with Psmith and friends in tow. We arrived at the apartment only to be welcomed by a jam-packed hall of shrieking women and a surprisingly sedate bunch of men. At parties its usually the other way round. Maybe it was the US culture getting to all of them. A brief inquiry revealed to us that the betrothed couple had yet not made an entry and were apparantly at some mall nearby doing some last minute shopping. To while away the time, I did what I usually do best at parties these days – attack the food.

An hour later, and still no sight of the couple. Frantic calls revealed that they were still at the mall. A few jokes regarding the existence of the mall were cracked (not by me). After a second round of snacking, we were finally warned that Anirban and Sonali (better half) were on the way up to the apartment. All lights were switched off, the main-door left slightly ajar and while all of us waited in the darkness for ‘the’ moment to arrive, a enterprising guy waited near a light source to flick it on at the said moment. Faint noises outside permeated through the hallway. The door was pushed open from outside.

“SURPRISE”

The poor couple almost collapsed. One doesn’t normally expect to walk into a room in the US and have 50 Indians jump at one yelling ‘SURPRISE’. Having got over the initial shock, the couple were really thrilled to see so many people come to wish them. Once the hullaballoo died down, it was time for the main attraction of the evening – dinner. Pulao, kadi pakoda, veg tawa, paneer bhurji and dahi wada were safely deposited into my stomach with sublime ease. Helping myself to a nice portion of rasa malai, I made my way to the conglomeration that had formed around Anirban. A few questions were being thrown at him and he was doing his best to cope with them.

“So, when is the marriage?” one guy asked.

“26th November,” he replied nodding, more to affirm to himself.

“So your last single Diwali,” Psmith observed.

“Yeah, err.. kind of.”

“So, how did you two meet?” one woman queried.

“Oh, that’s a looong story. Maybe some other day.”

There comes a time when even the greatest of men perform the FIM (footh-in-mouth) operation. Anirban could easily have said, “In college” and I am sure no one would have ventured to delve further. But when one over-emphasises a small word like ‘long’, it is but natural that a certain level of curiousity is aroused.

“No, no, Anirban, we want to hear the loong story,’ the woman said.

“We have all the time in the world,” I quipped.

“PEOPLE, PEOPLE! Anirban is going to tell us his love story,” another woman shrieked, almost deafening me.

And thus, the mehfil was set.

Video 1 – When

Notice how the guy keeps checking with his better half making sure he gets the dates right.

In 2003 (turns) Right?

Ya.

On Nov 9th (turns)…. Right?

Ya.

The camera then slowly pans to Blue Terror, details about whom will be revealed later.

Video 2 – How

Poor chap began his story. Notice Psmith, as right-hand man (literally) listening attentively.

Basically the story started with a random mail sent by better half.

Video 3 – What

The emails between male and female continued. The ‘personal’ email caused quite a stir. Note the ‘aap ki bhi baari aayegi’ quip by none other than Blue Terror.

Video 4 – Details

By this time I had become quite fed up with the whole ‘You have got Mail’ paraphernalia. For, my whole image of ‘the perfect contemporary Indian lady’ had started getting warped. Correct me if I am wrong, but I believe that most Indian women would not send a random email to some random guy asking him for details on xyz, not unless she had some motive behind her actions. Of course exceptions are there. You could always be a silly girl situated somewhere in a remote corner of Singapore and have no qualms in doling out friend requests on Orkut to naive IT professionals. But this is not the time for Singapore sagas. As I was saying, I smelt something fishy in the story.

So I asked, “How did you’ll meet?”

I was immediately upbraided by everyone. Blue Terror said, “Fast forward mein mat dekh. Play mein dekh, play mein.”

When a woman draped in a sari says something you obey. I shut up and switched back to play mode.

Video 5 – Who called up first

Video 6 – Who said ‘what’ first

Video 7 – Confessions

Video 8 – Her version

Now things began to make sense. The random mail was not random. The random guy was not random. Everything was planned. As the concept of ‘the perfect contemporary Indian lady’ began to conform to my original image, a disturbing thought crossed my mind. Was there an iota of possibility, a teeny weeny chance that a mysterious common friend had suggested to Miss Singapore that I would be a perfect match for her, that had prompted her to send me a friend request. I hurriedly gulped down the remains of my rasa malai.

Video 9 – Other bakras

The end

Moving to a topic of a more serious kind, CAT is around the corner. All the best to all you promising managers of the future. For others, enjoy the weekend, while I look forward to my thanksgiving break where I head to the city that never sleeps, New York.

A joke I thought of while on the bus the other day:

How would a NRI punju pronounce Bhool Bhulaiya?
Balle Balle !!!

Enough torture for today.

Khuda Afis
Om Shanti Om