Money, Market and Male Chauvinism

For those who have not read the first part "This post will make sense only if you have read my previous one ”Ramblings of a Male Chauvinist"" . For those who have already read that, "This post will be equally senselessly satirical as the previous part”.

The last part was written in the bygone period when we the word “Recession” was unheard. The time when companies were unwontedly kind to its employees; Banks were quixotically generous in lending money. The Sensex was zooming past 15K mark & GDP touching 8, my company was in profit and I was in a project. Coming to the dynamics of marriage market, it was the time when most of the young Indian males were aiming to get foreign jobs and young Indian females were aiming to get those Indian males who were settled in foreign jobs. Not to spare those baby boomers who were aiming for Son in laws settled in foreign jobs. So literally the entire educated Indian crowd wanted to dump themselves on the foreign ground, some by means of job and others by means of marriage. To be succinct, software grooms settled in abroad were the most sought after.

The situation which was assumed to be perpetual has turned increasingly turbid and phantasmagorical. Guys who were getting high pay checks (Especially in US) are now jobless and have mortgages to pay. I think the only people who reacted to the situation faster than the Fund Managers are the Girls’ parents. If you take a glance at the part one, I had posted few sample profiles of girls that represented the over all ambition of the population. I did not get a chance to see how the profiles have been modified now. But it might sure look like this.

• Varshini has completed her 10th, has finished her diploma in Classical Dance and is looking forward to settle in US. Brahmin Software boys working in US are preferred. for Brahmin Boys working in positions like IAS, IPS or any other good Govt. jobs can contact us.

• Mythili is studying final year engineering. Interested to settle down in US Green card holders are preferred, H1B might be considered. Software engineers who are not looking for a working girl can please contact, others kindly excuse. She is good at cooking, has also got a degree in classical music. We are looking for a well-settled groom below 32 years and who is working in state or central government. Software Engineers please excuse.

• Roshini is a broad minded girl from an orthodox family. She is was working in US. We are interested for boys who are at a good managerial position in Investment Banking or Software Firms Government Organizations or owning a business inUS. Divorcees are also considered. The girl wants to settle down in US India. We are looking for a well-settled Groom working in State or Central Govt from a good family background. Software Engineers and Investment Bankers please excuse.

The above situation reminds me of my internship, where I’ve sold Unit Linked Insurance Plans (or Equity Linked Saving Schemes) to customers by highlighting their key benefit of “Switch” option. The investor can switch their funds between Equity (Stocks) and Debt (Govt. Bonds and securities) markets depending upon the market condition. I.e. when the investor speculates the market is doing well, he can opt to put his funds in the stocks (Mutual funds) and when he expects the markets to fall, he can switch the funds to safer govt. bonds that give lower but fixed returns. Similarly the Fund managers of Indian marriage market have currently switched their assets to safer grounds (With a possible exclusion of switching after entering into conjugal relationship).

Well coming to the male chauvinistic part that you are wondering about. Hope I have an option to make my life as attractive as a mutual fund. If only I have an option to marry girls from various sectors like Power, Infra Structure, Manufacturing, Technology and Govt (jobs like Banks, lecturers, IAS or IPS (Not IPS…it has high personal risk factor)). So that I can diversify risk and maximize income and can retire early. I will be more assured of wealth if I can also avail the above option for commodities and derivatives.

I guess that any girl reading this blog will sure be running out of all the filthy words she ever knew (Considering the most notorious word has already been placed in the title). So if you are some hardcore Feminist (or can i say Female chauvinist :) )then you need to understand that you are reading through the mind of a so called male chauvinistic guy and as usual the blog is little exaggerated.

For Guys, call it a brunt of life, but the demand and supply has always its say in any market and the marriage market is no exception. Even in moments of the most imminent peril that we are living now, its woman on top. Blame it on the on the baby boomers who are taking this uncouth gambol, but that’s the reality and it needs to be accepted. So gear up for Civil services if possible.

A Hole in my Bucket List

At last the much awaited day has arrived. "The Week end" What more does a non techie guy struck in a technology firm would pray for. There is only one change that the weekend this time has come on a Friday. This explains that I am in a Muslim country. I have come for a short trip to Dubai. I called up my friend who knew the place well and he was more than happy to accompany me. He promised me to show excellent shopping malls but what my heart lunged for was the Dubai beach. It was my long lasting desire to step into some thing that is neat and clean, but as the Indian shores has to offer any thing but this, I felt this is my once in a life time opportunity. I had told him to come to a place which I am quite familiar with . Its a Mc Donald outlet situated right in front of my Hotel.

“Big Foot” I shouted across the street in an excitement, and half the Europeans there gave an offended look. He was standing in front of Mc Donald. He wore a checked half sleeve shirt tucked in the rugged jeans. His six feet height and matching size of broad shoulders gave a justification for his nick name. He gave a glee and signaled me to cross the road. Being tuned to Indian traffic, my head twisted to left; my eyes carefully scanned for the speeding vehicles. I just crossed the road and I heard few vehicles screech halting behind me. A white chick in a dark goggles riding a Red Ferrari showed a finger, I showed five and waved back giving a flirting smile. A French guy behind the wheels of a convertible Benz uttered few words and I shouted back saying “Sorry, I am not gay”. A stunning Arab girl in a BMW was trying to stop her angry Sheik boy friend from getting down the car. I stood giving a dumb smile, while Big Foot grabbed my hand and dragged me inside the store. He ordered the burgers and we sat for a chat. “I can understand that you've just landed here from India" he said smiling "But you looked so dumb crossing the lanes after checking the traffic on the opposite side. Dude here we drive right". I was about to open my mouth to say some thing, but seeing the burgers, I refrained talking and hurriedly dug one in my mouth
.

It was more than a year since we met each other and I was very happy to meet him in Dubai. After having one round of Burger, I told him my "Bucket List". Of which the first one was to swim in clear water. "Dubai has one of the best beaches in the world; I see it every day on my way to office...” I washed down my throat with Pepsi and said “and I fancy taking a swim around the Alburj". "So what are we waiting here for" he said enthusiastically “Let's go and hit the waves then". We came out, to my delight there was a black Lamborgini parked royally beside the road. "There it is" Bigfoot pointed towards the road. Before I could appreciate, he jumped into a cab and was waiting for me. I took a last look at that spectacular machine and got into the cab (which was a Benz S class).


The meter started at 3 Dirhams and it jumped one DH for every 100 mtrs. I wished if it were rupees. "Hey I didn't know that you can swim" Big foot said wondering. "Well. I don’t" I said without taking my eyes off the meter "That's why I just fancy. In reality, I will just take a dip”. By the time we reached the destination it was 120 Dhs and I felt a lump in my throat when converted it to Rupees (1Dh=Rs14). "We could have bought a car by spending few more bucks" I said sadly. "True" Bigfoot replied with a smile "But its not easy to get a driving license here". My heart beat touched the normal pace after he paid the bill. We were surrounded by lovely structures; we crossed many buildings and suddenly found ourselves in an open area.



We walked on the pavement and then entered the Beach. The sand was light white in color and the Arabian sea was inviting me wearing a bluish green color. I Wondered why the same Arabian sea has turned dark near Tamilnadu. (Has this got any thing to with the color of people over there?) The beauty of Dubai beach got me captivated. The most capricious allurement of all was the beach full of bikini clad beauties. It was an eye teasing scene there and some thing in my mind echoed “Stop staring…you moron”. “Did you say some thing” I turned to Big Foot “Yes. I asked you in a polite manner to stop staring at them”. “Let’s not get into trouble” he said worriedly “I hardly see any Asian here”. That was true we were quite noticeable of all since we happen to be the only two blacks in the sea of whites. For a moment I was confused if I am actually in some Posh European city. In no way did it look like a Muslim country. “Dude I have Zero tolerance for racist remarks” I said in a stiff voice. “Yeah and no one gives a damn about your tolerance levels here” he said mockingly.


It was more of an intoxicating feeling for both of us. We shed our cloths and headed towards water with the desire of moth for the star. The water looked like a clean transparent glass showing the white sand that radiated in the sun. I stopped just an inches away from the waves and stood appreciating the scenery. Little away from us was the world’s costliest hotel “Alburj” stood like a ship in the midst of an ocean. The water was in bright blue color there. I was elated about striking off the first wish in my bucket list. Actuated by an unduly anxious desire, I was about to take a dive and hit the waves, but was stopped by a harsh voice. I turned around to find an Afro American in a uniform towering over me. He was heavily built and was twice the size of Big Foot.


"May I help you" he said in a tone that meant any thing but offering help. “Help?" I said confused "No". Looking at my perplexed face he said “I am Sorry to say this Sir, but you might need to vacate this place as this is a private property” in a polite but stern voice. “What? A private beach?” I questioned him infuriated. I felt like a deprived Indian (who was stopped from getting into green waters with gorgeous whites), I am sure Mr. Gandhi would have felt the same when he was thrown out of the first class compartment of the Train (???). “How can you say a natural resource as a private property?” I asked him feeling indignant, giving him equally stern and dominant looks. Big Foot tried to stop me but was quite surprised to witness me taking over the guy who was twice his size and four times mine. “Would you care to explain that”? I folded my hands across my chest and maintained the tough looks.


My body language worked. He gave his explanation and we headed back convinced. Big Foot piggy backed me till the taxi stand as I was complaining him of pain between my legs. As soon as we reached my hotel room, Big Foot emptied a tray of ice in to my trousers and started packing my things. It was ten mins past five and I have my flight scheduled in 3 hours. More than the pain, it was his non stop mocking and a roaring laughter that hurt me. “Sorry man I never knew that there exists a private beach in Dubai” he said continuing his evil grin “Better luck next time”. Forget taking a swim in those spectacular waters, I could not even wet my hands. “Screw you Bigfoot” I shouted slamming the car door “You poked a hole in my bucket list”.

Taken over by Writer’s block

My blog reminds me of life cycle of a product that has bombed in the market. It is going through the phases of Introduction, growth, maturity and decline at a lightning speed. But I am taking stringent steps to keep my blog from slipping to the fourth stage. However the true achievement of holding my blog in the maturity stage is attributed to those forced readers of mine who pick up my every call praying not to become the victims of my doggedness and end up reading and then rating my blog. Well my tele marketing skills proved quite successful resulting at least four comments (Giving 25% of the call success rate) per post appreciating the writer in me. Over the period the call success rate has tremendously increased as my pals started to offer their passwords in order to encourage the self-boasting of writer in me.

Well it’s not just the tele calls or my customer hostages who bargain their passwords with me for their own peaceful living which keeps my blog site active. It’s also my clownishly insensible way of narrating the gloomiest state of the human side that generates certain level of interest (Approximately .01%) in readers . Adding to the existing blogs that has been rated on an average of 8 out of 10 points for being lachrymonious, soporific and depressing, I keep ragging the writer in me to come up with a new idea to ensure some activity in this page. The process of idea generation and dumping my brain waste on this virtual ground was never easy.

The Writer’s Block had taken me over and I find dearth of topics to write on. As the days progressed, the real priorities in my life started showing off their power. My Boss had put me in a Project that demanded lot of reading and attention. My Client, to whom my company had portrayed me as a Super man, had come up with a kind of requirements that can only be met by a Gene in the lamp. I started to work 14X7 to meet the requirements, but still my Client saw a light year distance of gap between his expectations, and my performance. The Superman in me eventually has transformed to a Doberman by the end of the project. Now being on a Bench, I felt a strong motivation to do justice to the blog that I had created long back and was on the verge of forgetting my own blog site address. All my customer hostages had conveniently forgotten the trouble of going through my paradoxical writings. Before my motivation and ambition of writing a blog gets vanished like a vapor in the sun, I vigorously started digging my brain like a hungry dog searching for a bone. I relentlessly searched for the topic on which I can talk tirelessly, effortlessly and last but not the least “senselessly” for hours.

At times little independent threads of ideas ran through the texture of my mind and died away before I actually slaughter them with my pen (Hmmm..Rather with the keyboard).The brainstorming, which was actually confined to my brain, did not give desired results. I did primary and secondary research to come out with a suitable topic. I thought of addressing some burning issues like “political situation in India” or update the blog with recent cricket stories, but again, it would risk the numbers (of Reader Population). Some topics like “Demand Elasticity of Latex”, “Lip stick theorem and it’s relation with recession” etc bombarded my brains, but could not make much of an impact. It was just before I decided to give up the idea of harassing the writer in me, I got a call from Deepu asking about my next blog. Though the call could not reactivate my brain cells , but sure had charged every limb in my body to pull my self together to type some meaning less sentences. Well you might have understood that you have wasted your time reading this post instead of wasting the same in a smoking zone or in a café. What I can promise you is that, in my next post I would put my 100% efforts to make it at least 0.00001% interesting.

Talking Cricket

If you are looking for an expert comment on Don Bradman's bowling skills or Malcom Marshall's batting style (Did I mess up some thing??), then you are reading a wrong post. This post tells about why I hate cricket so much. How this game has been casting it’s evil spell on me over the years.

The story of my impassiveness towards cricket dates back to my childhood when I had no companion left to play any game in the season of cricket, as every kid in my street is glued to the TV and anxiously listening to their jobless uncle’s useless comments on the game. The breaks between the classes were also quite challenging, as my friends use to find me as a major source of entertainment in the cricket season. My classmates surround me during the breaks and use to pose questions like “What is your comments on Japan's unanticipated triumph over Australia”, "Which is the fourth country that has agreed to participate in the forth coming triangular series?" Or "As a captain of the team, which one of these two would you choose to play after winning the toss on a wet pitch". The options were given as Fielding or Bowling. Thanks to the frequent occurrence of these incidents, I was tested positive for "Cricket language deficiency syndrome”.

This CLDC has its own undesirable effects right from my childhood to till date. Despite knowing all the south Indian languages, having CLDC had always put a hold to my extroverted ness. It was in my class 10, when I competed over another kid for the post of class representative. Little did I realize that my class mate’s gyan over cricket was way above my bounds, the election turned out to be a selection. The devil’s stroke was a master success. The disease had started showing the effects from then. The second time when I became the victim was in the GD conducted for a B-school selection. My already meager hope of getting selected went down the drain when I heard the GD topic being announced “Emerging problem in Indian cricket- supporting the captain courageous or player outrageous??”

Amongst Indians, Cricket happens to be a perfect Ice breaker. They talk cricket to initiate or continue a discussion. This always happens with me during my lunch with clients. I suddenly start to concentrate more on my food when the topic switches to cricket. Having been so verbal till then, my clients take my sudden silence as a result of some deep thought process over the subject and would eagerly wait for the expert opinions. Having been exposed to such situations before, I used to save my head by passing some banal comments, until one day when I saw my manager's remark in the performance appraisal as "Need to improve his knowledge on cricket".

It was during some cricket season, when I went for requirement gathering for a project to Dubai, the only place on earth where you find more Mallus than in Kerala. Since the clients were able to manage with my broken Tamil, I was able to build a good rapport with them. My Boss was also quite satisfied for his wise decision of making me the part of his project team.Until one day, it was during the lunch time when I was sharing my table with few top managers from the Client side. I was giving out my expert opinions on the current financial situation in India (Thanks to magazines and the blog (http://www.shyamscolumn.com/), the Big Guns seemed quite impressed with my knowledge. Then it was one of my team members who had trouble digesting this business gyan, broke the conversation by saying "Have you seen yesterday's match?” The one word "Match" to which I could never match my skills with. The one word which effectively nullified all my efforts and my clients were all ears to him.

With in five minutes, every one around me started arguing like old friends, while I was sitting like a dumb fool not knowing what to speak. All the hell broke loose when one of the senior manager asked "So Vardhan, how do you think, the last over was?” Sitting there without participating in the discussion, I could only guess two things: 1) India is playing this match with some country. 2) He is talking about the 49th over. I quickly dug my hand in pocket and said "Sorry I got a call" in an effort to avoid delivering some absurd comment. "Oh please carry on." he said. "Hey did you activate International roaming" asked the guy sitting next to me. "No" I replied casually drawing the cell phone near to me ear. A dead silence was followed my answer. I suddenly understood the level of stupidity I can achieve. I quickly answered with the dumbest smile that I can ever give "Oh!! it's a remainder. I almost forgot that my cell doesn't work here". I turned to the person who asked me the question "Sorry Shiv, you were telling me some thing". He repeated his question, while all others at the table were paying attention to our conversation. "Oh the 49th over" I passed a banal comment "It was exciting”. There was another dead silence; the people were looking at me as if I committed some blasphemy. It seemed eternity, there are at times you feel that the land cracks and you hide yourself inside. I didn’t know where did I go wrong. "Ok" my Client said breaking the deafening silence with a stiff tone "I am done, shall we move?" We all raised and I caught my Boss and asked. "Boss what happened, why are they looking at me like a criminal". "For God-sake Vardhan" My Boss spoke sternly "It was 20-20 match which they were speaking of". "Jesus Christ!!" I said "But where did I go wrong?”

The circumstances like these proved to be altering my career plans, but never the less could force me to know this game. Over the years and in many of the important phases of my life, cricket has been playing its role by casting its dark shadow on my skills. The importance of cricket in India has reached to such an extent that the community might spare you even if you don’t know which the ruling party is, but not if you miss out naming the last coach of the Indian cricket. I fail to understand why is this nation more bothered about Sachin’s batting scores than Sensex up’s and downs? Dhoni’s run rate than India’s GDP growth? Why all the 100 crore plus population concentrates on one game Cricket? Why does a guy like me deserves a comments (with a pitiful looks) like "oh...you don't know cricket! That's so sad"

Well the above questions can never be answered since the majority of the crowd (110 crore population) is mad about a game and thinks I am mad because I am not mad about this game : ).

నా జైలు జీవితం

ఇది నా ఇక్కడ, చెప్పేదే వేదం. ఇది నా కాలేజీ లైఫ్ గురించి. స్టూడెంట్ లైఫ్ ని ఎంజాయ్ చేద్దామని రెండు సంవత్సరాలు ఖైదీ iపోయిన వాడి వ్యథ. నా విషయానికొస్తే నేను ఉత్తముడు, తెలివైన వాడు, స్వతహాగా చమత్కారి ని (నేను ముందే చెప్పాను , నేను చెప్పిందే వేదం అని ). ఈ రెండు సంవత్సరాల జైలు జీవితం నాకొక బావ, మామ, తాత మరియు ఒక పెళ్ళాన్ని ఇచ్చింది. నాకు తెలుసు అన్నీ వదిలేసి మీరు పెళ్ళాం (నేను పదం గురించి చెబుతున్నాను ) మీద ఆసక్తి చూపుతున్నారు అని. నేను కాంపస్ లో అడుగెట్టగానే అప్సరస లాగ కనిపించింది. అంతే ఇక ఎం ఆలోచించకుండా మూడు ముళ్ళు వేసేసి , ఏడడుగులు నడిపించేసి ధర్మపతి ని ఐపోయా నా మనసులో. ఆ అమ్మాయి అసలు అందాని కి అందం, చదువు...ఇక మిగతావెందుకు? అందం చాలదూ ? కానీ కల్లనేవి నాకొక్కడికే ఇచ్చాడా ఆ దేవుడు ? మా కళాశాలలో ఉన్న ప్రతి ఒక్క గొట్టం గాడికి ఇచ్చాడు.

నేను మా ఆవిడ విపరీతంగా ప్రేమించుకుంటాం. నేను తనని, తను ఇంకొకర్ని. తను నాతో మాట్లాడటానికి ఎంతగా సిగ్గు పడుతుందంటే ! మొదటి సారి కలిసినపుడు పక్కనె నిలబడి హాయ్ చెప్పింది తర్వాత సిగ్గుతో ముసి ముసి నవ్వులు నవ్వుతూ బాయ్ చెప్పింది. ఆ "హాయ్" కి "బాయ్" కి మధ్య దూరం రెండు సంవత్సరాలు.

ఇక నాతో ఉన్న హితులు, సన్నిహితులు, ఇక్కడ చెప్పుకో దాగిన వారు నలుగురు. అందులో మొదటి వ్యక్తి మా బావ.
పోకిరి సినిమా రిలీజ్ అవ్వడానికి ముందీ నాకు, మహేష్ బాబు కి ఉన్న (ఒకే) ఒక్క అలవాటు అందర్నీ "అన్నయ్యా" అని పిలవటం. దీనివల్ల నాతో స్నేహం చేసినందుకు పాప ఫలితంగా అందరూ వాడిని "అన్నయ్య" అని పిలవడం మొదలెట్టారు. అమ్మాయిలతో సహా. తరువాత వాడి పోరు పడలేక కష్టపడి అన్నయ్య నుంచి వాడిని "బావ" ను చేశా. ఐనా ఎ మాటకామాట చెప్పుకోవాలి కాని, అన్నయ్య అని పిలిపించులోని పోగొట్టుకొన్నది లేదూ, బావా అని పిలిపించుకొని పెద్దగా పోదిచిన్డీ లేదు.

ఇప్పుడు మనం ఇంకో పాత్ర "బాబు"గురించి చెప్పుకొందాం. ఈయనకీ పేరు మన సిని రంగంలో ఈయన భంధువులు ఉన్నందువల్ల వచ్చింది. సత్బ్రహ్మనుడు , మంచి వాడు (మరి నాతో ఎందుకు చేరాడు!). ఇంకా చెప్పలన్తేయ్ శంకర భరణం సినిమా లో సోమయాజి గారి లాంటి వాడు. ఈయన తన స్వయంకృషి తో (చెప్పులు కుట్టి కాదు, బుక్కులు పట్టి) స్వర్ణ పథకాన్ని పొందాడు (నేనుకూడా (పరుల) స్వయంకృషి తో నా డిగ్రీ పొందాను). ఈయన గారు ఆర్ధిక శాస్త్రం లో అపర మేధావి, మా పంతులు గారికి ఏకలవ్యుడి లాంటి శిష్యుడు.

ఇక ముఖ్యంగా చెప్పుకోవలసిన వాళ్ళు ఇంకా ఇద్దరున్నారు. తెలుగింటి ఆడపడుచులు , కోపం రాని వరకూ మంచి వాళ్లు. నాకు ఎలాంటి సమస్య ఉన్నా వీరిద్దరూ నా పక్కన ఉండటానికి ఆరాట పడతారు. నిజం చెప్పాలంటే ఉబలాట పడతారునేను పడే కష్టాలు చూడటానికి. కానీ చాలా మంచివారు, నన్ను సరైన దారి లో పెట్టటానికి రెండేళ్ళు భగీరథ ప్రయత్నం చేసి ఆసలు వదిలేసారు.

ఈ వ్యాసం పాత్రల పరిచయం కే నిమిత్తం. ఇక అసలు కథ లో అడుగెట్టడం నాకు మూడ్ ని బట్టి నాకు కున్న సమయాన్ని బట్టి ఉంటుంది. అంత దాకా సెలవు.

Future shocks

“Guys let’s call it a toast for the nigger gang” I raised the glass and looked for others to join. “Let’s celebrate this much awaited moment” Senthil said and all raised their glass to begin the party. Despite being close to each other both in terms of distance and to the hearts, we are meeting after a decade. Life has become so busy, despite the solar jets and wind cruisers. It’s year 2025, and we all are able to make it for the alumni meet. We are in our early 40s. It is the age to take a small break from the routine and seriously work out for an eight-pack abs. It's the right age for men to look out for an alternate career and love. All of us looked wise with gray steaks of hair. “The early 40s have brought us more of a manly and matured looks” I turned to Tatri and added, “In some cases the maturity confined only to looks”. Every one laughed while Tatri was busy digging his teeth in the turkey.

We had dropped our kids at an amusement park, wives to beauty saloons and sat in a pub to catch up with old memories and few cold beers. Every one of us is quite settled with high paying jobs that promised frequent trips abroad. Iyyer and Tifosi are running their own businesses profitably. Senthil is working out options on quitting his job and joining Tifosi’s venture. After my blog became popular, I started getting offers to work on the scripts of some sex comedies. Vidhun, Santa and Larry are senior managers in reputed Indian MNCs. Tatri and Sid together are running an advertising firm. Last week their firm was on news for doing some controversial ad on a concept called “Brand slut”.

We talked about our college days, careers and then jumped to family matters. As we started talking about our kids, Senthil said firmly “Let’s not talk about this and spoil the party". “What’s wrong with them man?” I asked abit surprised. “Don’t tell me that every thing is right with your kid!” said Larry. “My Son is ok Larry” I said and turned to all “He is disciplined and well mannered”. “Wow” Senthil said gulping his beer “You know my spoiled brat and Tifosi’s kid are doing all sorts of nonsense at school”. Tifosi added “Last month my Son was dismissed from the school for the third time. Luckily his maths teacher was my ex girl friend so you know I had to manage by…” his lips curved in an effort to hide the smile. “Screw you Tify” said Larry “Don’t put the blame on your kid. It’ you who wanted to make use of the situation”. “Why don’t you kick his butt and put him in the right path Tify?” I asked him ignoring his evil smile. “No. I can’t do that” Tify took a puff and said looking at our puzzled faces “He’s got some videos of me in his 3G phone. So I better listen to him”. Before I could recover from the shock, others started narrating about the troubles they are having with their offspring. Vidhun said, “My Son had organized a beach party and almost got arrested". “My son got suspended from school” Santa added, “His classmate fainted after drinking water from his bottle”. “He drinks raw liquor and sells porn magazines at school”

“My kid is little ahead” Iyyer said “I cut his pocket money and he sold 20% of my company shares to my competitors”. “My Son has become such a drunkard that we had to take him to a therapist” said Tatri. “Is he fine now?” I asked. “Who” asked Tatri “The therapist?”. “No you idiot. I am asking about your Son” I smiled. “He didn't change Man” he said warily. “Then?” I asked confused. “The Therapist” he said giving a pause “Became such a big drunkard that his wife and kids deserted him”. Every one laughed.

Sid and Larry iterated similar kind of stories about their spoilt brats. Every one looked at me to speak about my son. “I guess Vardhan’s Son must be managing quite well,” some one said. “No believe me. My Son is really nice, he is very soft natured" a proud father in me said. "He might score less in studies, but when it comes to character" I said standing "He stands tall". "I have heard enough from you guys” I told firmly “Now you all listen to me. Leave your kids in my home this summer. My son and I will take up the responsibility of putting them on the right track". Every one nodded approving of my suggestion. I called for the bill and sat back.

“Sir” the bar tender said and politely handed the bill. “Rs 1.5 Lakhs” I shouted on him “Are you high on Cocaine?” “Calm down Vardhan” Senthil patted on my shoulder “There are two bills” he separated them. There was one bill for Rs 50, 000, which we anticipated, and another for Rs1, 00, 000. “What the hell is this” I took the other bill and questioned furiously while the others were trying to calm me down. The Manager came running and informed all of us “Sir, this is the bill made by a few kids who claim to be your children”. "Oh my God" Iyyer panicked "It's our kids". “What is this???” I looked at the paper “It's a bill from the striptease club, right?” I questioned seeing the heading of the bill. “Right Sir” he said warily. Of every one, Tifosi looked really worried. “What do you mean right” I shot a warning look “Why the heck have you allowed a group of young kids to get into a strip tease bar?” “Oh no” Tatri held his head “I told that ass to be in the amusement park till I pick him up”. The Manager spoke terrified “Sorry Sir. I was forced to allow as one of the kid was having a licensed revolver”. “Oh my God” shouted Tifosi for being confident on his Son’s capabilities. “Sir I swear to God, I have never seen such an ill tempered kid in my entire life” he stopped to catach a breath and continued“He almost shot our stripper when she refused to….”. “You know that kid’s name?” I asked cutting him. “No Sir” he said, “But the revolver’s license is in the name of his Father”. I looked puzzled, as none of us owned a revolver. "Who is that" I said in a harsh tone. “Sir" he said quickly "It's in the name of Mr.Vardhan”. Suddenly my eyesight blurred and I could hear some one shouting to call 911.

Straight from my Mail Box

MAKING A BABY

There is not one dirty word in it, and it is funny. .... Enjoy reading

The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogatefather to start their family. On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr.Smith kissed his wife goodbye and said, "Well, I'm off now. The man should be here soon."Half an hour later, just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographerhappened to ring the doorbell, hoping to make a sale.
"Good morning, Ma'am", he said, "I've come to..."
"Oh, no need to explain," Mrs. Smith cut in, embarrassed, "I've beenexpecting you.
""Have you really?" said the photographer. "Well, that's good. Did you know babies are my specialty?"
"Well that's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat"
After a moment she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?"
"Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch, and perhaps a couple on the bed. And sometimes the living room floor is fun You can really spread out there."
"Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn't work out for Harry and me!"
"Well, Ma'am, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I'm sure you'll be pleased with the results."
"My, that's a lot!", gasped Mrs. Smith.
"Ma'am, in my line of work a man has to take his time. I'd love to be Inand out in five minutes, but I'm sure you'd be disappointed with that."
"Don't I know it," said Mrs. Smith quietly.
The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of hisbaby pictures.
"This was done on the top of a bus," he said.
"Oh, my God!" Mrs. Smith exclaimed, grasping at her throat.
"And these twins turned out exceptionally well - when you consider theirmother was so difficult to work with."
"She was difficult?" asked Mrs. Smith.
"Yes, I'm afraid so. I finally had to take her to the park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep to get a good look"
"Four and five deep?" said Mrs. Smith, her eyes wide with amazement.
"Yes", the photographer replied. "And for more than three hours, too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling - I could hardly concentrate, and when darkness approached I had to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just had to pack it all in."
Mrs. Smith leaned forward. "Do you mean they actually chewed on your,uh...equipment?"
"It's true, Ma'am, yes.. Well, if you're ready, I'll set-up my tripod and we can get to work right away.
" Tripod?"
"Oh yes, Ma'am. I need to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It's much too big to be held in the hand very long. "

Mrs. Smith fainted!!