Bollywood song dedication to the happenings of 2010

So 2010 has been quite an eventful year. Both in terms of socio-economic-political development and Bollywood chartbusters. We've been grooving to songs about Zandu Balms, a certain Sheila's jawani and Dant Manjans et al. And you thought the Jungle book theme song was "hawwji" worthy. Think again.

Here goes the list of what I thought about the happenings that made an impact in 2010- Bollywood song dedication style!

1. Governments of the world to Wikileaks: Munni Badnaam hui Darling tere liye. (Dabangg) <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YpnohT_a-2I>

2. A. Raja : Zor ka jhatka...zoron se laga (Action Replayy) <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s0EReETeKyc>

3. Suresh Kalmadi: Aapka kya hoga (Housefull) < http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LlVm0lLReSs >

4. An appeal to Dolly Bindra: Volume kam kar (Housefull) <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xq8F0gSLfRU>

5. The Kingfisher calendar girls to Vijay Mallya : Sheila Ki Jawani (Tees Maar Khan) <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hcKtDXUb6Cg >

6. Vir Sanghvi and Barkha Dutt with reference to the Radia Tapes: Gal Mitthi Mitthi bol (Aisha) <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s2-lmHLtL3k >

7. Malaria and Dengue mosquitoes to the junta: Pee Loon (Once upon a time in Mumbai)

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=olOK2OYI7Fo>

8. The various "godmen" caught in sex scams: Dil toh baccha hai ji (Ishqiya)

< http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Jp4wpMtAUE >

9. The Congress, NCP, Trinamool Congress, DMK: Adhoore ( Break ke Baad)

< http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENT1yKk_cok >

10. Indians to Sachin Tendulkar : Sajda (My Name is Khan)

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ivd3emwXuU >

Why Entrance Exams suck?

I've given a few entrance exams over the past few days owing to the fear psychosis stemming from a flurry of media reports about my college which prompted me to take some action even though it may involve changing courses, academically. Thus, the ordeal began. It was almost as if I was living in life in the bygone era of 2007-2008 yet again. Yes, almost because not only academia wise, the turn of events in the world were also more or less the same like unrest over fuel and food crisis and the Congress government still being in power. It's almost like being frozen in time.

Bah, so coming back I've realised that Entrance Exams are almost equivalent to the worst sort of trauma you can inflict on a person and get away with it. Here's why-

• Because we don't have a centralised system of examinations every University will hold a separate entrance exam and charge you a different amount as you proceed to fill up your form. This may range anywhere between a grand and two. So after about ten random forms you've filled up, you wonder whether getting those two dress at Mango would've been a better way of blowing all that money up. I have a strong feeling that these institutes actually survive on the provisional admission fee that scores of aspirants across this overpopulated country pay.

• Because inspite of knowing that there are actually only about a 100 seats in the "premier" institution (the rest of course belong to the reserved class), millions of people will vie to be one of those tagged people. It's almost like a Playwin lottery. You get there, you've hit the jackpot.

• Because these institutes will make sure that your centre is in the most inconvenient place of all. They're sadists because they know that it don't matter whether hell or high waters, you will reach your centre, in all probability a dilapidated school building in the middle of nowhere at sharp 9 a.m. on a Sunday morning. So much for a shot at the Amazing Race, huh.

• Now once you've manoeuvered your way through the narrow bylanes in places you never knew existed asking the irritable locals for directions and a dozen "thank you's", you reach your centre which has swarms of people and there's this always one corner which seems like a very magnified version of a thousand ants attracted to a lump of sugar. No it's no Bollywood movie shoot. It's that good old blackboard which finally gets it's moment of glory and attention that it has longed for. That's where they scribble where you're supposed to sit for the exam.

• By the sides of the already stampede prone lane, you see parents and cars and relatives with bags, books and 20 year olds in tow. These 20-25 year olds are their "aankhon ke taare" fed on curd and jaggery when they're about to set foot onto the battleground. It's almost like a bidaai ceremony with anxious parents waiting to send their 'kids' off inside the exam hall. And they will never hear from them again atleast for the next two hours because all communication devices are prohibited and the candidature is likely to be cancelled if a candidate is found using one.

• Then as you proceed climbing the never ending flight of stairs you come across those nerds in the hallway whose sole purpose is to scare the daylights out of you and make your heart pound faster than it would have had you seen Patrick Dempsey. It's actually a war strategy when they ask you "arrey yaar yeh kiya?" and when you reply in the negative, pat comes the rebuke "pagal hai kya, yeh toh sabse important hai. Past 10 years paper mein har saal poocha hai". All you then say is "Oh Shit." Then after successfully pinning down this victim they scour and proceed to find another prey with a book in hand and a smile on the face. A lethal assassin.

• By now, you're already feeling low and you realise your worst nightmare has come true when you enter the designated classroom. For a moment you wonder whether that water you gulped down nervously from the bottle was in fact a growth potion or whether you've been shipwrecked onto the island of Lilliput because the benches are so small that your arse won't fit. And the space between two columns of tables is so little that it would induce further anorexia in a size zero woman.

• Then there's this morose looking inviligator who is pissed because the only Sunday he gets has been taken away from him. He has the bundle of question papers in his hand. The booklets are sealed not to be opened unless asked. The formulae, the rules everything is whirling up a big tornado in your head leaving everything muddled up by the time the paper is handed out to you.

• Then the test booklet is handed out to you and you begin marking answers on the OMR sheet with the paranoia of shading the wrong circle always affecting your brain. Then when the two hours pass by magically and you realise you've survived the battle, you notice that the person sitting ahead you has shaded more circles than you. Your heart skips a beat. There's a 50-50 chance between getting a +4 and -1. You decide to colour a few circles randomly. The inviligator then snatches the paper away from you.

• You dread to switch on your phone back because once you do there will be incessant calls and messages asking "How'd it go." And you don't know what to say because let's accept it there's a fine line between humility and stupidity and you don't know what perception your reply will create for you in the mind of the caller/texter.

• Then begins the wait for the results. This day's bad and the days preceding the dreaded date are worse because the course of your corporate life depends on those shaded circles. You wait nervously. Then when the actual day of the moment of truth arrives and you've forgotten all about the results, you get a message "The results are out". Your heart skips another beat.

Don't blame heart problems in Indian youth on junk food and bad lifestyle. Blame in on these entrance exams. Really.

Also, it's funny how two hours can decide the course of life of a person. Shahrukh's "sattar minute" from Chak De India anyone?

Antihistamines

As you would have guessed and I'm assuming that since you are reading this you would be a person of ordinary intelligence and common sense (SCROLL DOWN FOR A TEST ON ORDINARY COMMON SENSE, if you're unsure about yours) this post is to do with an allergy that struck me precisely 20 days back and took a fortnight to get better.

So, it all began with a mere redness and rash on the ears and quickly progressed onto my face and within 2 days my face bloated up almost like a puffer fish and diminished only after a strong cocktail of medicines taken over a period of two and a half weeks. My friend who's studying Pharma tells me that I've taken antihistamines ranging across the entire spectrum from Fexofenadine, Levocetrizine to Cetrizine and Hydroxyzine. And after 4 tablets of potent antihistamines ingested over a period of 24 hours for one and a half fortnights I was in this perpetual state of stupor. I almost missed my best friend's birthday. She had to come over to my place to celebrate her turning 20. And I'm told I looked like an overfed Chink.

I'm still not certain as to what caused this extreme trigger response in my mast cells. It could be paint, methi or just some microscopic allergen in the air. The only positive that came out of this was that my Mom agreed to me not having methi in the future ever again. :D

Three doctors were consulted. Out of them one is worthy enough to find a place in my blog. She's the Allergy Specialist in a leading hospital in Mumbai. I think she needed therapy herself. A flabby, early 60 something woman with islets of flab hanging down from her designer blouse, she very cheerfully assigned me blood tests for autoimmune diseases and Alzheimer's disease and prescribed drugs for Asthma and other ailments I do not have. And as far as the blood reports were concerned I could've consulted her only after another 15-20 days is what I was told in a "Himesh Reshamiya turns Robot" kind of a voice. :\

Now, what I was worried about was whether I would get addicted to Antihistamines. I mean people get hooked onto Crack, Weed, LSD but Antihistamines? That would not be acceptable. I didn't. Thankfully. The allergy didn't do me any good. It lasted as long as Made In China goods last. It didn't even serve as time for self introspection because I was too preoccupied by some entrance exams. I ended up going to the centres looking like what JLo looked like in Monster-In-Law post her character's nut allergy.

I wish Dr. Mark Sloan was for real.

The Common Sense Test:

Answer this simple question to find out if you are a person of ordinary common sense:

Do you find Mahendra Singh Dhoni's Maxx Mobile ad annoying?

• Yes
• No

If you answered Yes, you need to read those boring books on self confidence.

If you answered No, you need therapy. My sympathies.

By the way. Thank you Daniel Bovet. Sincerely.

Because there are some memories money can't buy...

Disclaimer: This is not a mushy story. It's to do with the jinx that keeps coming back from time to time just like the "Blitz" on the last episode of How I Met Your Mother. For those who don't know please Google the synopsis of HIMYM S06E10. Except that the Blitz missed everything exciting whereas I have to face unpleasantly, disappointingly hilarious situations.

And DON'T think of completing the title with "For everything else there's Mastercard." :\

The ordeal started with my entry into the third year of the five year law course. Now I haven't had any lawyerly inclinations ever and consider myself to be a major accidental entrant in Law School which partly also has to do with my College but let's leave that story for a different day. Actually, if you need details about that please do speak to me about it. I'm constantly looking for people who are willing to lend an ear to my sob story and vendetta.

So, as I was saying my entry into the third year of the five year law course meant that I am supposed to be writing Law Examinations set and marked by the University which is another unfortunate story. It'll be fortunate if the University sticks to its reputation of scoring papers by virtue of the number of inked pages and not content wise. Let's keep our fingers crossed.

Now I happened to list Andheri as my first choice for the Exam Centre hoping to get a centre in either Bandra or Vile Parle. I was later enlightened that Bandra falls under Dadar and how that works is a mystery in itself. So, I was assigned Nalanda Law College in Gorai. I had never known that a place like that ever existed. Turns out it's near Essel World.

So on finally reaching this place after a 45 minute car ride on the Western Express Highway which was nothing short of a roller coaster ride at an amusement park (owing to the driver's flair for running the car at speeds ranging between 60 and 80), I had a slight inkling that this place which is supposedly in the middle of nowhere would definitely surprise me. It did. In a bad way. A really bad way.

This extremely narrow lane led to a huge campus with rusted basketball hoops and backboards and a carpet of ankle high wild grass and a generous pattern of wild itch-inducing wild flowers frequented by swarms of Mosquitoes and other assorted varieties of insects. The imposing cement structure stared down at me and I stared back, dreading to enter what seemed like the set of an Aahat like show or a Ramsay Brothers' horror flick. The building lacked flooring. My heart skipped a beat. Then I stared at the makeshift blackboard which was actually only a piece of slate mounted onto the wall. My roll number entitled me to write the exam on the 5th floor which entitled me to climb five floors. As I searched for Room No. IX on the 5th Floor, I witnessed scores of people trying to imprint the Mokals and the Jhabvalas in their grey matter. For those who are not aware, Mokals and Jhabs are like lifelines on Kaun Banega Crorepati. They seldom help but they do calm your pre exam frayed nerves. A regular law student would consider Ratanlal and Dhirajlal or Avtar Singh or the likes as their Bible but not true for law students of Mumbai University. Mr. Mokal and Mr. Jhabvala are our saviours.

I finally managed to reach my classroom and deciphered my desk which was nothing short of cracking an advanced code on account of 3 different seat numbers written on each desk. After giving much thought to whether my jeans would indirectly functions as a duster for the benches if I plonk myself on it, I thought que sera sera and decided to devote the 15 minutes I had to Industrial Employment (Standing Orders). I noticed a drop of water on my book and then another only to realise that it was not water but sweat. There was no electricity. Then after 15 minutes, I heard the fan creak and the tubelights flicker as if they've been woken from a deep slumber and very reluctantly agreed to be diffuse the light.

At 10:30 a.m a frail 5ft something lady with an ashen face entered the room and announced that everyone was supposed to keep their reading material aside and it was time. We did as asked to. After that came the longest 15 minutes of my life. The question papers hadn't arrived! My mind started playing tricks. There was a complete mash up of Industrial Disputes Act, MRTU and PULP Act, Workmen's Compensation Act and Industrial Employment (Standing Orders). What I never understood was why so many acts have different definitions for the same term. Then came the shortest 3 hours of my life. The paper ended in a flash. My carpal bones, extensor digitalis longus and extensor digitalis lateralis muscles were strained, my thumb indented and my head hurt. Little did I know this ordeal was to continue for four more days.

The second paper was Contracts. I was assigned a classroom which overlooked the Vipasana Pagoda near Essel World. This did not help in attaining any peace of mind though. Homeopathy did. It was more of a placebo, I think. Then during the exam one poor girl's desk gave way which warranted some unexpected entertainment for the rest of us. Little did we know, that every millisecond is precious. The Contracts paper met with the same fate as the Labour Law paper: Well begun is half done.

Paper number three was Torts and Consumer protection; one of the more interesting subjects. However, the genius who designed the time table allotted just one day before a 250+75 page long subject. This meant trying to cram up precisely 24 hours before the exam- the way we've been brought up. It was of no avail. A 4 hour nap turned perilous for the impending paper. I forgot Rylands v Fletcher, Reed v Lyons and several other case laws. I hope the University sticks to it's policy of blind correction.

The only silver lining was the Legal Language paper. It ended on a good note though I'm still keeping my fingers crossed, keeping in mind the reputation of the University.

My ordeal had ended.I wouldn't have to pay a visit to a cheap replica of the Harappan ruins anymore.

Before the exams began, I thought they would end in a jiffy but that was not to be. Those 10 days seemed like 10 years. I pity my Engineering and Medical counterparts. The sad news however is that I have 2 and a half more years to go which includes 5 semester exams.

My point is, “Why waste time learning, when ignorance is instantaneous?”-Calvin

ps-The image shown is for illustrative purposes only. Also, pictures are deceptive.

10 lessons to be learnt from the Common Wealth Games

The Common Wealth Games are round the corner. This is a turning point in the sporting history of our glorious nation. Infact, it is adding 4 moons (chaar chaand) to the glory of India. And like my 4th standard Hindi teacher always said, every experience in life is a lesson learnt. These are a few things that the Common Wealth Games have made me aware of even before they've begun. Wonder how many more lessons are yet to come. Anyway so here it goes...

• Revolutionising phrases in the national language: "Apne pairon par kulhaadi maarna" is passe. The contemperary jazzy version is " Apne pairon par Kalmadi maarna."


• The Common Wealth Games officials tend to take everything in a very literal sense. This includes the term "common wealth" amounting to over $6 billion.


• When they say that the country has gone to the dogs, they don't mean it in a metaphorical sense. The dogs are free to poop inside apartments on beds meant for athletes. Why does PETA have so many issues anyway.


• In saying that our standards of hygiene are different from the ones observed in other countries, Lalit Bhanot has made it clear that we don't flush toilets after use and use bedsheets soiled with dog crap for sleeping.


• That the Games have managed to show that no job is small or insignificant. Case in point: when the top bosses of Scotland had to sweep their apartments in the Games Village.


• That AR Rahman is no Shakira and that he definitely cannot compose a Waka Waka inspired anthem. Yes that was the brief given to him by the CWG officials. sigh.


• That the foot over bridge collapse that managed to injure about 27 "ordinary" people (in the words of Sheila Dikshit) is another example of "Bade bade desho mein aisi chhoti chhoti baatein hoti rehti hain."(inspiration RR Patil who was inspired by DDLJ). And it isn't that bad a thing considering India is already grappling with excessive population.


• That inspite of lack of practice, Indian athletes will manage to win Gold, Silver and Bronze medals in all the disciplines. It's a different issue that this will be on account of no other contingent taking part.


• That I'm not the only one who has a habit of procrastinating. The CWG officials are miles ahead. It has probably got something to do with our Examination system which habituates us into cramming everything for the last moment.


• That our news channels still take pride in bringing exclusive Breaking News related to the corruption in CWG. And that Arnab Goswami's vocal cords are still extremely elastic.

Many more lessons to come. Stay tuned! :)

Mall-evolence

Look at those shiny glitzy billboards that beam with the 4 letter word that makes a girl's heart skip a beat. The magical letters namely A,E,L,S beautifully transition into the word SALE! And the bigger the 2 digit number that follows it, the more one's eyes gleam. But then another 4 letter word just ruins all the fun. "UPTO". It's written in such tiny font that after a point of time you start to wonder what is easier- reading the UPTO or attempting to see the craters on the surface of the moon.

But anyway, sales DO increase the footfall. You get to see families comprising of over-enthusiastic aunties, disinterested uncles and hyperactive kids who are ready to cry at the drop of a hat if Mummyji doesn't buy anything for them rather than lovey-dovey couples who will probably end up sharing a McAloo Tikki burger and spending so many hours at the mall, it seems they've been converted into mannequins.

So, it all starts with the "stringent" security checks right from the moment your vehicle enters the parking lot of the mall. The guard will dutifully use a mirror to check whether you've hidden an explosive underneath the car and ask you to open the boot in order to check for the same. It's perfectly alright if you decide to hide one inside the car. Our duty only includes definite checks and keeping in mind with our culture of doing only as much as is told, we need to do just that.

Then your explosive-free car manages to enter the parking lot with one guy and his assistant shoving parking tickets and ancient dilapidated currency notes to you that makes you want to give the poor note a good facial at the glam-sham saloon in the mall. This process takes barely about 30 seconds but that is enough to trigger the Uncleji who's come with his entire family's impatience which he makes very apparent with his incessant honking.

Now there is an endless queue for the elevator that will take you to the ground floor. It takes so long for the elevator to come that you start wondering whether your hair will turn white(and not grey) by the time you get to step inside the elevator. Eventually after a lot of jostling, you DO manage to get away from the stench of the basement and you phone comes back to life(read:network). And since you've braved the elevator, your bag gets rewarded. Yes, it doesn't get manhandled by the security guard at the entrance. Tip to bombers: you could carry bombs in your handbag but remember to take the elevator route. It never fails.

And before you can step on the skating rink like Italian marble floor, there comes this over enthusiastic 20 something girl who asks for 5 precious minutes of your time to complete a survey which can lead you to win an all expense paid trip to a random resort in a random remote part of the country. (conditions apply). There's also a man distributing pamphlets regarding a sale of the most useless things at the most useless store in the mall who will not budge from your path until you take that piece of paper from his hand. There is another person who's put treadmills and Osim massage chairs on the ground floor which turns out to be a hub of well fed menopausal Aunties with shopping carts and kids in tow.

Once you've managed to dodge these elements, you are free to take the escalator to the floor of your choice. If you're lucky you may come across people who believe that the escalator is a T-Rex's gut and will swallow them as soon as they step on it. For Chrissake, even the ghouls in Aahat are scarier.

At last you do reach the shop and you end up liking nothing besides that black tee without the over the top sequins. Your eyes gleam with joy. You reach out to the tee as if it's the very last relic of Michael Jackson. But alas, your joy is shortlived. You wanted size M but all the have is XS, S, L, XL,2L,XXL. So you ask one of the shop assistants to get you size M. Now they are beaming with joy at the prospect of some work because otherwise they don't really get to do anything besides flirting with each other which would tend to get monotonous after a while, isn't it? It doesn't end there , there's a long winding queue at the trial rooms. So after ageing by another 40 years, you do get your well deserved turn for an entry into the trial room. After checking whether it is a two way mirror or not and looking around for hidden cameras, you do realise that the tee is worth buying. Now there is another queue at the cash counter. And when your turn does come, the credit card invariably gets declined. Your heart skips a beat, 2 beats and so on with every passing second. And you regain your pulse, when the cashier tells you that it was just a temporary system failure and the payment has been confirmed. The tee is now yours so is the brand new plastic bag. No the malls aren't eco-friendly yet unless you consider the colour of the bag. :\

Ah so anyway, now you're too tired to stand in a queue for a drink at Mc Donald's and you decide to head back to the dingy basement. The appearance of the basement is inversely proportional to the way the mall looks by the way.

You head out. Only to realise that there is another queue waiting for you on the way back home. The queue is commonly known as a traffic jam.

Octopussy

I think Roger Moore was one of the most handsome looking James Bond of all time. Blah! This post ain't about him. It's about the FIFA superstar. Not Villa or Puyol or anything mind you, its Paul-the Octopus! The 2 year old superstar belongs to Phylum Mollusca and the sub species Octopus vulgaris (yes, I'm brilliant at Biology).

Its amazing how this psychic works. He uses all his 'clairbuoyant' powers and correctly predicts the winners in the matches Germany plays. But now that FIFA is coming to an end, the poor Octopus will lose his 30 days of fame and be back to being the Common octopus that it always was.

So, here are a few career options for Paul:

• Image consultant: Now then, our Indian green parrots have for ages picked up tarot cards for the jyotish babas. And 9/10 times (just like Paul) their predictions hit the bullseye. However, they've never been given so much name, fame, recognition and a Wikipedia entry. So, Paul the Octopus should probably be the best thing to give them an image makeover.

• Lecturer of Clairbuoyancy: I think it's high time the premier educational institutes of the world introduced this subject. They would have brilliant faculty in the form of Paul. He may even become a Dean, be given honorary citizenship of England and a Padmashri by the Indian Government. IIPM will call him to Mumbai as a guest lecturer and Arindam Chaudhari will pose with him and get a full page advert published on the fifth page of Times of India.

• Political advisor: Who needs a think tank to manage the candidature of your party for the forthcoming elections? Now you have Paul-the Octopus. Just put pictures of your prospective candidates in his aquarium. The one he sucks the most is the right one! And a strange co-incidence isn't it that the politicians suck too?

• Analyst on news channels: After the election results are declared,each and every news channel proclaims that their Exit poll results were the most accurate. However, now they will hire the services of the Octopus and voila the TRPs will SOAR!

• Remake of Octopussy: With Daniel Craig as James Bond now (sigh!), I think Paul will make a good Bond girl or a Bond boy. A Dostana inspired Octopussy? Uhmm. Pardon me. :|

• Ekta Kapoor's personal astrologer: Sunita Menon will have to be content with writing last page horoscopes for Mumbai Mirror. Paul will now be the favourite astrologer of the soap queen. She'll put two papers in the fish-tank with 2 names of a forthcoming soap beginning with the letter 'K'. Paul will pick. "Kahaani Kamaal Ki!" Right! :D

So, Paul worry not. You have a flourishing career ahead and before you know it FIFA will be back and the world will be at your tentacles again.

In the meantime, please recommend a clairbuoyant cousin of yours. I need some advice in choosing what to wear, every morning.