Peeing on republic day

Amidst all the patriotism and desh bhakti on republic day, you still have to pee. No matter what other activity you choose to abstain from (like drinking, for instance), peeing is something you really can't help. No matter what special activity, patriotic or otherwise you are carrying out, there’s no escaping the ultimate truth in life. You have got to pee. You get together somewhere, watch the march past, hoist the flag and make that proud salute. Then you go around and find the nearest bathroom (or isolated area with/without cover) to relieve yourself.

You listen to all these emotional patriotic songs. ‘Mere desh ke logon’ and ‘Desh mere’ among others. You also pee. That's life.

But what you definitely don’t want to do is to pee while listening to the patriotic songs. At least not when the song is ‘Jai Hind’.

You walk unsuspectingly into the mall washroom in between the movie, unzip, and are blissfully going about your business. It is then that you hear the strains of ‘bolo mere sang, jai hind, jai hind’ in the background. But by then it’s too late to stop. You’re in middle of it. There’s no turning back. You can’t block out the song either. You’ve caught it now. It can only get louder in your head.

You’re stuck there, peeing while repeatedly listening to arguably the two most patriotic words possible.

Why would any self respecting mall play loud patriotic songs in the washroom? On Bose speakers nonetheless. What do they think people are doing while in there? .

For a moment I wanted to complain. But only for a moment. I did not, for two reasons.

One. It was republic day. India became a proud republic on this very day. We are celebrating the 59^th anniversary of that proud moment. Not a time for complaints.

Second. I’d now finished peeing. Remember how everything’s fine with the world when you’ve just peed. It’s difficult to be angry when you’ve just relieved yourself. It’s like the beginning of a new life. You want to zip up, wash your hands and start life over again. Definitely not a time for complaints.

So I finish up and saunter away, the song still running in my head . ‘Bolo mere sang,…. ‘.

In my defense, I tried my best not to pee to the tune.

Very Funny

"Very Funny!"

Beyond a doubt, the singular most inappropriate comeback ever.

It
a. Is not funny. And definitely not 'very funny' (contrary to what it would like us to believe)

b. Is not sarcastic. Insulting and venomous maybe, but sarcastic it is not.

c. Is not relevant. The wider the potential application of any comeback, the lesser the relevance to current discussion/wisecrack/joke. Especially joke.

d. Is not witty. Duh!

e. Is ineffective. It manages to convey disgust, boredom, irritation and much more as a group, but fails in effectively conveying any one single emotion of these. Now you’ve insulted the poor guy (or girl, if you must) but have not given him a reason why. Nor does he have any idea what part of his rendering you did not like. And therefore, leave him with no scope for improvement.

Crack the same “very funny” comeback a couple of more times in the evening and you’ve performed on normal conversation the verbal equivalent of a 'garrote'.

f. Is the final word. And not in a good way. Manages to leave absolutely no option for anyone else to come back with a better comeback (pun unintended). It’s a dead end. A phrase that brings with it only prolonged and deathly silence.

Until the next thread of conversation is brought forth by yet another fearless individual, to be valiantly debated upon until someone says those magic words. ‘Very Funny!’

And finally, (to put an end to this rather long, meandering, and completely irrelevant rant), you cannot, repeat, cannot use this phrase while also appearing to be smart.

Smartass, yes. Smart, no.

Of Shiny Floors and Bathroom Doors

(Warning: Contains disgusting descriptions and gross observations)

My compliments to the ones who have already realized what this post is about.
For the unaware, my apologies.

Let me get straight to the point.
I have nothing against shiny floors. Nor do I hold any significant disregard for the conventional bathroom door. (Or ‘toilet’ door rather. As we Indians like to put it. In our unique, ‘what’s to be embarrassed about?’ tone).

But when the bathroom door in question is somewhat short (from the bottom) and to be found placed over a rather shiny floor, …

(I refer to the commonly found partition between adjacent cubicles in most public toilets, and the exquisitely polished floors below them)

…

(Take a few moments to visualize it. Don’t let me hurry you.)

Office. Mall. Airport. Multiplex. Everywhere.

It’s like they’re following you around. Dedicated to the task at hand. Challenging you to take a shit without stealing a look at someone pulling up/down his pants.

You can t help it, can you? They have you cornered. You’re sitting there with nothing to do. It’s taking some time. You’re being patient. You’re planning what to do with life once you’re outside. Your eyes wander. … PHOOF! It’s right there. You’ve seen it now. You can’t help it. The image is imbibed in your mind. It won’t go away now. You might just as well stop trying.
And stop cringing. He can see you too.

And try waiting for the guy to be clear of the place before you leave. The last thing you want is to connect a face to the ass you just saw.

And they have accomplices. The washroom attendants. It’s like one big team. Meetings every other night.

“We need to start working together here. You guys concentrate on keeping me clean. I’ll do the reflecting and you guys over there will provide the angles. I want those peeks coming in thick and fast now”

And the tiles are always so plain. No unwanted designs. No rough surfaces. Committed to giving you as clear a view as possible.

For the doors, it’s all about hitting the right angles. I’ve noticed how they always make them the perfect height. Just enough to leave something to the imagination.

Like a sexy dress…



I have trouble falling asleep at night.


P.S: I am fully aware of having used the word ‘sexy’ in this blog.

after you, m'lady

Make up your minds. Please.

Get together somewhere. Have a chat. Pull out each others hair. Or whatever it is that you do to solve conflicts.

Let us know. We’ll arrange for accomodation. Drinks on the house.

At the end of it, just let us know, please, in clear precise terms, exactly how chivalrous you want us guys to be. We really don’t care much for suggestions, indications or implications. Just make a damned list. Keep it simple. Do’s and Don’ts.

Fact is that we can’t live with constantly having to evaluate every situation to determine what small random (to us) act of chivalry you are obviously expecting us to perform.

The way I see it, there are essentially three levels of chivalry. Level 1 is the absolute minimum a guy has to perform to escape being branded an uncultured ogre. One extra unwarranted act and we are bang in the middle of the “what a fake!” zone. Two, and we are somewhere in the “Oh! He’s flirting with me” area. These being separated by very thin lines, the exact locations of which are among the best kept secrets of the female world.

You’re lucky if we’re even paying attention to what you are saying. If we are also attempting to comprehend what you are trying to imply behind those words, we are practically in danger of brain seizure. Expecting us to also fit in all those little cute things like pulling up chairs, holding doors open, and letting you in before us in queues etc is surely a tad unfair.

Why the sudden outrage? I was recently slapped (verbally, mind you) for … wait for it… being too chivalrous. I let her into the line before me for dessert and was met with “ye chivalry sab ek din ki hi hai bas, kal se line pe aajaoge!” (this being my first day in a new office). No, I had no idea who the nice lady was then.

I am currently in the process of proving her wrong. I am the guy who’s religiously holding on to all the possible chairs and doors in the office and having lunch at the end of the line. (In the process, I have subsequently discovered that she’s not totally evil). But I shall continue to persist. Until I absolve myself, or die. Of cold. Holding an open door.

"After you, M'lady"