Howla!!! (Read if u r 18+)

In Hyderabad we have our own little Johnny. His name is Howla. His father is ambitious to educate Howla.

Howla goes to school in Tappa Chabutra. Its principal was educated in Urdu high school and claims that he passed tenth class!

There is a school inspection the next day and the conversation is as follows:

Teacher - Kal inispector ayinga. Kochanaa (questions) puchinga. Sab achaa padkey aau. Koi galath answer deengaa naa tho main uske pairaan thodtoom.

Howla - Iski maakki kirkiri. Kyun aara inispector? Kaam nai hai usku? Kya kochanaa puchta kathey?

Teacher - Abey tereku kaiku re, tu kal school aanaaich nai. Tu tera moo khola to gaaliaan nikaltey. Tereku main absent nai daalthaum. Ghar pe baithkey gotiyaan khel. Tu school aayingaa to inispector ke saamney mere izzat ki biryaani karke khaaingaa tu.

So our Howla is excited, goes home and tells his father that he is not going to school the next day.

Father - Yeah kyaa hai… ischool hai paan ka dabba hai? Gaand pe maartaun saale tu ischool nai gaya to.

Howla - Arey Bava, mera teacher bola nakko aao bolke.

Father - Usku akkal hai? Begum suno! Howla ischool nai jayinga kathey kal. Agar iney ischool nai gaya to kaise padhinga? Howla, agar tu kal ischool nahin gaya naa, tere haathan pairaan thod daaltaum.

So Howla cries and finally agrees to go to school. Next day in school, Teacher is very upset to see Howla back:

Teacher - Arey teri maakki. Nakko aao bole to bhi kaiko aaya re ?

Howla - Mera bava gaand phodtum bola ischool nai gaya to.

Teacher - offo?! Tera bava bola? Theek hai chal. Last bench pe baith aur inispector aya to chchup jaa. Dikhnaich nai. Kuch bhi gadbad karinga naa meri noukri lag jayingi.

So Howla goes to sit in the last bench hiding behind a tall guy. Inspector comes for the visit.

Inspector - Adaab.

Teacher - Adaab saab. Bachen acha padrain saab. Kochchanaa puchey to answeraan yun bolte.

Inspector - Abaa? Offo! Ithney kilever hai aapke bachchey? Achchaa, ek bahuth easy sawaal - Hamarey body mein sab se nazook cheez kaun si hai?

Teacher - Arey Imtiyaz tu bata rey!

Imtiyaz - Saab, Khaleja saab.

Inspector - Aisa! ..... woh kyun?

Imtiyaz - Saab, khaleja hai to sab kuch hota. Agar woh gaya naa, kuch bhi nahin hota saab.

Inspector - Abaa, kya tez potta hai rey! Aur koi?

Teacher - Arey Akram, tu bata re.

Akram - Saab bheja saab. Bhejey ku khuch bhi hua to kuch yaad nahin rehta saab. Haathaan pairaan kaam nai karthey, iscooter ku kick bhi nai maar sakthey saab.

Inspector - Abey Teacher, kya kya padaaraa re inku tu. Chutiye ke jaiseich answeraan bolrai naa!!

In the meantime Howla is trying very hard to hide but Inspector sees him. He thinks Howla is hiding because he does not know the answer.

Inspector - Woh last bench pe yun jhuk ke baithaa naa woh pottey ka naam kya hai?

Teacher - kaun saab? .......Woh! (iski bhain ku, kaiku dikhaa re tu) Woh Howla hai saab.

Inspector - Howla? Ye kya naam hai? Kahan-kahan se lagaathey re bhai naamaan! Howla, woh lambu ke peechchey kaiku chchup raa tu?

Howla - Saab main moo khola to teacher maaringi saab.

Inspector - Tereku yaa mereku??

Teacher - Arey kya baath kar reh saab, main kaiku maarthaum aapku. Ye potta ekdam badmaash hai saab, jhoot bolraa. Abey Howla, answer maloom hain to bol nai tho khaamoosh baith jaa mere baap tere pau padthaum.

Howla - Saab sabse nazook cheez apne body mein Gaand hai saab.

Teacher - Allah!! Iney moo khola meri gaand lag gayi re!!!

Inspector - Abey kyaa to bhi bolra re! Sharam kar badon ke saamney aisaich baathaan karthey! Yeich sikhaaye tumhaarey amma-bavaa? Gaand kahaan kaa answer hai re?

Howla - Hau saab, gaand ich sabse naazook cheez hai. Kaiku boletho ... wahaan pe dilli mein baamb phata ... Yahan Hydrabad mein apni gaand phat thi ... Yahaan old city mein gadbadaan shuru hothey ... wahaan new city mein sabki gaand phat thi… Uttaa kaiku saab, main yeh answer bolraun naa, mere teacher ki gaand phatri dekho!!!!

sāre jahāñ se achchā hindostāñ hamārā

sāre jahāñ se achchā hindostāñ hamārā
ham bulbuleñ haiñ us kī vuh gulsitāñ hamārā

ġhurbat meñ hoñ agar ham, rahtā hai dil vatan meñ
samjho vuhīñ hameñ bhī dil ho jahāñ hamārā

parbat vuh sab se ūñchā, hamsāyah āsmāñ kā
vuh santarī hamārā, vuh pāsbāñ hamārā

godī meñ kheltī haiñ us kī hazāroñ nadiyāñ
gulshan hai jin ke dam se rashk-e janāñ hamārā

ay āb-rūd-e gangā! vuh din haiñ yād tujh ko?
utarā tire kināre jab kāravāñ hamārā

mażhab nahīñ sikhātā āpas meñ bair rakhnā
hindī haiñ ham, vatan hai hindostāñ hamārā

yūnān-o-miṣr-o-rumā sab miṭ gaʾe jahāñ se
ab tak magar hai bāqī nām-o-nishāñ hamārā

kuchh bāt hai kih hastī miṭtī nahīñ hamārī
sadiyoñ rahā hai dushman daur-e zamāñ hamārā

iqbāl! koʾī maḥram apnā nahīñ jahāñ meñ
maʿlūm kyā kisī ko dard-e nihāñ hamārā!

- Muhammad Iqbal

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English Translation

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Better than the entire world, is our Hindustan,
We are its nightingales, and it (is) our garden abode

If we are in an alien place, the heart remains in the homeland,
Know us to be only there where our heart is.

That tallest mountain, that shade-sharer of the sky,
(It) is our sentry, (it) is our watchman

In its lap frolic those thousands of rivers,
Whose vitality makes our garden the envy of Paradise.

O the flowing waters of the Ganges, do you remember that day
When our caravan first disembarked on your waterfront?

Religion does not teach us to bear ill-will among ourselves
We are of Hind, our homeland is Hindustan.

In a world in which ancient Greece, Egypt, and Rome have all vanished without trace
Our own attributes (name and sign) live on today.

Such is our existence that it cannot be erased
Even though, for centuries, the cycle of time has been our enemy.

Iqbal! We have no confidant in this world
What does any one know of our hidden pain?

Laajvanti - Software Engineer 2.

Maher Iqbal, my room-mate comes home pretty late by Satyam standards; he reaches home at around 9.00PM. He works in HSBC, handles software development processes there. But that day, he came back early...8.00 PM.

Maher: (as I opened the door) Hi.
Me: Hi.
Maher: Kya karr raha hai?
Me: Kuch khaas nahi bey. TV pe kuch dekh ke kuch soch ke kuch aur soch raha tha.
Maher: HaHa. Aur pehla din kaisa tha? Koi mili?.
Me: Haan bey. Mili ek gulti.
Maher: Kya baat karr raha hai. Mili bhi to ek gulti?.
Me: Abey nahi, ye maal hai.
Maher: Hmm. Kuch gulti ladkiyaan maal bhi hoti hain!!! Reddy hogi.
Me: Pata nahi, surname nahi poocha.
Maher: To kya kiya?
Me: Abey usko ghar drop kiya tha. But saala uske hostel ke saamne hi bike gir gayi, aur uske saath mai bhi.
Maher: Wo to nahi giri na?
Me: Shukar hai wo nahi giri. Wo pata nahi kaise kood ke khadi ho gayee.
Maher: Phir kya boli?
Me: Mai turant udhar se bhaag gaya.
Maher: HaHaHa. Saale tera kuch nahi ho sakta...
Me: Oh.
Maher: Kya Oh? Accha bol khana khane kahan chalte hain? (The usual question)
Me: Pata nahi. Kahin bhi chal. (The usual answer)
Maher: Subway chalein?. (Another usual question)
Me: Abey nahi, mujhe wo accha nahi lagta.(Another usual answer)
Maher: Phir kahaan? KFC?. (Yet another usual question)
Me: Abey kahin aur chalte hain, KFC mein mai kya khaunga? (Yet another usual answer)
Maher: Needs? (Needs is a sasta Punjabi restaurant in Begumpet)
Me: Haan chal.

The next day I got up at around 10 in the morning. Maher had already left for office. Still on the bed, I looked up at the fan and my cellphone started ringing. The call was from a new number. I picked it up.

Me: Hello?
Caller: Can I talk to Sridhar?
Me: Yes, speaking.
Caller: Hiii. How are you?
Me: I'm fine. Who's this?
Caller: I'm Laajo. Remember?
Me: (A sudden chill ran all over me...) O ya. How did you get my number?
Laajo: Abbaa!!! I got it from eSupport.
Me: eSupport? What is eSupport?
Laajo: It is Satyam's internal site, from where you can get details about everyone. Our details have already come there. Remember we filled all those details in Virtue?
Me: (My head was spinning) Ok. So you have internet in your hostel?
Laajo: Yaa re. My room-mate is also from Satyam know. She told me all this.
Me: Oh. That's great. Hey, I am sorry about yesterday. The bike went out of balance.
Laajo: No re, it's ok. Happens. Why did you go away like that?
Me: I was upset.
Laajo: Chumma you go upset. The road only was not good. Lot of bikes fall there, with guy and gal also. In our case I did not fall na. So you did fine.
Me: HaHa. Thanks for being so nice.
Laajo: Shut up. Mental you are. Ok, when are you coming to pick me up?
Me: (Couldn't believe what I heard) You mean for office?
Laajo: No, for my funeral! Of course for office man.
Me: We have to report at 2.00 PM na?
Laajo: Yes. So you come here by 1.00 PM. We will reach there by 1.20.
Me: Why so early?
Laajo: Arey stupid, we'll have lunch after that... 1.20 to 1.50. And 10 minutes is for anything unforseen which may happen.
Me: Hmm. Like falling somewhere?
Laajo: Offo! Can't you think better things? There may be a traffic-jam also.
Me: I'm sorry. I'll pick you up at 1.00. Ok?
Laajo: Ok. See you then. Tata.
Me: Tata.

My heart started thumping dum dum dum. I could not think anything for a while. I tried to control myself by taking deep breaths. Did kapaalbhati for 2 minutes. I felt better. Then I had some water, went to susu, stared absent-mindedly at my watch for 3 minutes, turned off the fan (don't know why), refreshed the desktop of my computer 20 times, unlocked and locked my cellphone 4-5 times, looked at myself in my small mirror and smiled...

I quickly brushed my teeth. Then shaved my face and put on the Denim aftershave I had never used (had preserved it for a special occasion like this). Then went for bath. As I emptied the first magga on my head, I realized I had not warmed the water. Then decided ki chalo aaj cold water se naha lete hain. As I was applying Pantene on my takla I felt glad that I had gotten the side wala hair shaven off the very previous day. So the takla was looking cool. (Or hot?)

After the shower, I sprayed my Addidas Deospray all over my body. Then got dressed and sprayed Addidas again all over my clothes. Then suddenly my eyes fell on my room-mate's imported perfume. I couldn't resist the temptation of spraying some of it on my armpits. I surrendered to the temptation. Sprayed it at a lot of places which I thought must smell good and then placed the perfume bottle back to where it was, at exactly the same spot and in exactly the same orientation.

I wore my best shirt and trousers. Took out a new pair of socks from my suit-case, cleaned my woodland shoes with a wet cloth, wore them. Took out from the suitcase the hanky which my mom had given me long back to use. Cleaned my pulsar with the wet cloth. Made sure the bike was shining all over. Chanted a Hanuman prayer in my mind. Then a Ram prayer. Than a Saraswati prayer. The one before-sleep prayer that I had learnt when I was a kid. Then 2 Ganesh prayers. Then ate 1 spoon Himani Sona-Chaandi Chyavanprash. The time was 12.50PM. And I was ready to leave.

Just as I started my bike, my cell-phone started ringing. It was Laajo.

Laajo: Hey, where are you?
Me: Outside my home. I am starting. I will be there in 10 minutes.
Laajo: Ok. Come fast. We need to go to Hyderabad Central before going to office.
Me: Central? Why?
Laajo: To get movie tickets.
Me: You can buy them online. Go to www.pvrcinemas.com
Laajo: I don't know all that. You come, we will quickly get the tickets and go to office.
Me: Ok. But which movie?
Laajo: You ask too many questions. And waste time. Why don't you come here fast. Idiot!
Me: Hey I can get the tickets and then come to your house. Central is closer to my house.
Laajo: That's a good idea. You make sense sometimes. Ok, get 2 tickets for Jodha Akbar, Sunday night show.
Me: 2 tickets? Sunday Night?
Laajo: Ya.
Me: Ok. See you.
Laajo: Listen, don't take if you get 1st or 2nd row seats.
Me: Ok. Fine.
Laajo: Now go fast. I am waiting for you.
Me: Bye.

I cut the call, put the mobile in my pocket, started the bike and headed towards Central which is at Punjagutta Circle. There was heavy traffic as usual at Nagarjuna Circle. As I was waiting for the traffic to clear, I started thinking - Who the hell was Laajo going to the movie with? That too night show! Did she have a boy-friend? Saala, who cud that be? And what wud they do after the movie? It was a long movie. Wud end around 1.00-1.30 midnight. - I was so engrossed in all those thoughts that I did not hear the honks of the car behind me until the guy from the car stepped out and gave me a jolt. I raised my eye-brows at him. Not sure whether he could see that through my helmet. I was so angry...with the guy and with Laajo. Took some deep breaths and tried to cool down. Then I started the bike and drove to Hyderabad Central. Still very disturbed. I was not feeling like buying the tickets. Still stood in the line at the ticket-counter. A sexy girl in a small skirt standing in front of me offered some distraction. But not for long. My anger kept coming back. I couldn't decide whether to buy the tickets or return back with an excuse. What could be a good excuse? I was confused.

 

To Be Continued...

Laajvanti - Software Engineer 1.

Laajvanti and I joined Satyam together. The moment I entered the common waiting area in Satyam's office in the Masha-allah building on the joining day - 21st November 2007, I saw Laajo, and I knew she was the one I'd like to spend the whole of my bench-life with. She was wearing a white kurta (or kurti?), an orange salwar and an orange chunni. She had shiny long black hair oiled and plaited gulti-style. She was so cute, I instantly fell in love with her. I went and sat on the chair by her side. Couldn't stop staring at her. She was uncomfortable. So I spoke -

Me: Hi, I'm Sridhar.
Laajo: I'm Laajvanti.
Me: Java?
Laajo: No, Mainframes. You Java aa?
Me: Yeah. But I know some JCL, COBOL, CICS, DB2 also. I learnt when I was in TCS.
Laajo: So you are from TCS aa?
Me: No. From Geometric Software, Pune.
Laajo: Accha.
Me: I was in TCS before that.
Laajo: How many years experience?
Me: 3.5 years. You?
Laajo: 3 years.
Me: Which company you were working previously?
Laajo: TCS.
Me: Yo! Ultimatix and all!
Laajo: Yes. How long you worked in TCS?
Me: 6 months.
Laajo: 1st company?
Me: Yes.
Laajo: You broke the bond!
Me: No. I paid the bond money and quit.
Laajo: Joking aa?
Me: Really, I paid. See I have the relieving letter too, from TCS. (Opened my file to show her the letter)
Laajo: Arey, it's ok re. How much you paid?
Me: 77k.
Laajo: O my God!
Me: Yes. I was too ethical.
Laajo: (Smiling) Too much. You were an idiot.
Me: (Embarrassed) Ya. I guess so.
Laajo: Did you get the medical examination done?
Me: Yes.
Laajo: (Smiling) What all they checked?
Me: What do you mean? (Wondering why she asked that. She couldn't possibly mean that...could she?)
Laajo: Forget it. (Still laughing)
Me: Ok. (Confused)
Laajo: I heard they will put us all on bench.
Me: Oh really? I'd love that.
Laajo: What? You are a strange person.
Me: Why?
Laajo: Who wants to be on bench? Everyone wants a project.
Me: Why do you want to work if you can get paid without working?
Laajo: Ayyo! You are really a psycho.
Me: Psycho? Why?
Laajo: Leave it. Where are you put up?
Me: What does that mean?
Laajo: Put up, as in, where do you stay in Hyderabad?
Me: oh! Banjara Hills.
Laajo: That's a costly area I suppose.
Me: Yes. But I am sharing with a guy, who has been staying there for a while. So the rent is low and then divided by 2.
Laajo: That's good.
Me: Where do you put?
Laajo: What do you mean?
Me: What did you ask me?
Laajo: O, 'where are you put up?'
Me: Yes Yes, that only.
Laajo: I am staying in a hostel in Ameerpet.
Me: That's close to where I stay.
Laajo: So?
Me: So... nothing. Just telling.
Laajo: (Smiling) Where are you originally from?
Me: Bilaspur, Chhattisgarh.
Laajo: But your name...
Me: I am gulti, basically.
Laajo: Don't you say gulti. I hate that word. Say Telugu. Dumbo. (Smiled)
Me: Hmm, so you are Telugu?
Laajo: Yes.
Me: But your name is North-Indian. How come?
Laajo: My mother liked this name. She put it.
Me: Oh. But why did she like this name?
Laajo: I don't know. Which place in Andhra?
Me: My par-dada was a cassanova in Visakhapatnam. (Laughed)
Laajo: Anta Scene Ledu Meeku.
Me: Oh.
Laajo: What oh?
Me: Whatever you said.
Laajo: Shut up.
Me: Oh.
Laajo: Stop it. (beats me on my hand, feels my shoulder and blushes)

Just then, my name was called by the HR guy. He wanted to verify my documents and give me my ID Card and Appointment Letter. I went to him, got the things done, and came back. I saw in his list that Laajo was next to be called.

Laajo: How come your name came so early?
Me: I am a lucky guy. Since you are with me, I can make your name come next.
Laajo: Very funny!
Me: I'm serious. There you go. Abra-ka-Dabra (I waved my had in the air. And the HR guy called Laajo.)
Laajo: Elated. You really are a psycho! Wait, I will go and come.
Me: Yeah! I am here.

Laajo went to the HR guy. He cracked some jokes. Sala, saw a beautiful girl and started flirting. I hate such guys. Laajo came back in 5 minutes.

Laajo: Hey, I'm done.
Me: Yo! Congratulations. We are Satyamites now. Satyamites Dynamites!
Laajo: Yes!
Me: Let's go out and celebrate.
Laajo: Ya. He said we may leave for the day. Tomorrow we have to report to some Basil Phillips at Harsha Towers near Karkhana in Secunderabad.
Me: Ya, Me too, same.
Laajo: Ok, I am very hungry. Let's go and have lunch.
Me: Ok, chalo.

We went to Banana Leaves restaurant just outside the office. Ordered 2 veg meals.

Laajo: So where do you eat? You cook?
Me: No, I eat outside.
Laajo: What do you eat?
Me: Anything.
Laajo: But that is bad for health na. Look how fat you are.
Me: (OOps! Embarrassed!) Ya, that's bad. I also skip meals. Very often.
Laajo: Why don't you cook?
Me: I don't feel like.
Laajo: Guys are all so lazy. When they are tired of eating crap, they marry. But they'll never cook.
Me: No, that's not true.
Laajo: Then what?
Me: I don't know.
Laajo: I know. You guys are sick. You treat girls like cooks.
Me: No. Cookers. Pressure Cookers. HaHaHaHa.
Laajo: That's a sick joke.
Me: Oh.
Laajo: You and your 'Oh'!
Me: So do you cook?
Laajo: No, not possible in the hostel. They give breakfast and dinner. I eat that. I am looking for a house. After shifting, I will cook.
Me: Oh.
Laajo: Oh. Oh. Oh. (Punching in the air towards my nose) I will break your nose.
Me: That would be so sweet.
Laajo: Ok Ok. Eat fast. Rassam is very nice here.
Me: Oh. I don't eat Rassam. I like sambar. Rassam does not have anything in it. It is water.
Laajo: As if you know! Now shut up and finish your meal. I'm done.

I finished. I paid for my meal. She paid for her meal. We came out of the restaurant.

Me: Now what is the program?
Laajo: I'll go home.
Me: Oh. Can I drop you?
Laajo: You have a car?
Me: No, a bike.
Laajo: Hmm. You drive well?
Me: Ya, but you have to sit with one leg on a side.
Laajo: How can you ask a girl to sit like that? It should be her choice how she wants to sit.
Me: I'm sorry. If you sit with both legs on the same side, I will find it hard at turnings and when we go slow.
Laajo: Whatever! I don't want to go with you.
Me: Hey, I'm so sorry. You can sit the way you like.
Laajo: But you just said you cannot drive properly if I sit with both legs on a side.
Me: Ya, I used to have a problem, but that was long back, about 4 months back.
Laajo: No girl sat after that?
Me: Many have, but all with one leg on each side. They all wore jeans.
Laajo: (Smiling) So you take many gals around on your bike?
Me: No No.
Laajo: What No No? You have many sisters?
Me: No No.
Laajo: Dumbo!
Me: Oh. (Smiled, didn't know what to say)
Laajo: Ok, I will sit with one leg on a side.
Me: Ok, I will get the bike from the parking.
Laajo: Which bike you have?
Me: Bajaj Pulsar 150 DTSi. Definitely Male!
Laajo: Wow, I love it. Now go.

As Laajo waited at the gate, I came out on the bike and stopped right in front of her. She climbed my bike from the left by stepping on the side-foot-support (whatever is the term for it) and with her left hand pressing on my shoulder and her right hand pulling the bottom part of her kurta up so that she didn't sit over that. The bike was bent by 45 degrees. I was scared we might fall. So was she. Finally she was behind me, and I set the bike up and stright with all my energy. She put her bag between me and her, to avoid any contact between me and her. Then she adjusted her Chunni - spread its middle part over her head (like Benazir Bhutto did), wound the rest around her neck and brought the ends in front of her, so that it didn't fly when the bike would move.

I put on my helmet. Then I started my Pulsar by pressing the auto-start button. I had been wondering whether I should kick-start to make it look more manly. But I had never tried the kick-start and was not sure whether it worked or not. So I didn't take the risk.

There was a lot of traffic. And Laajo was heavy. I had a hard time driving slowly through the traffing with Laajo sitting behind me. The handle was shaking all the time. But she was kind enough not to mock my driving. May be she was scared I would mock her weight.

Finally we arrived at her hostel. I stopped right in front of the gate. But as I stopped, I could not control the weight. The bike tilted to its right, and as it was falling, Laajo had her foot on the ground. She somehow got off the bike and stood as I fell down with it, unable to balance myself or the bike.

A few men, who were standing at the pan shop near by, came running. They lifted the bike. Though one man tried to lift me, I resisted and got up on my own. It was all so embarrassing. Impression ki whaaat.

Laajo asked if I was ok. I said I was fine, asked her to take care, started my bike, said 'bye' and quickly escaped from there. As I was driving from Ameerpet to Banjara Hills, I recollected all that had happened that day. It had been wonderful, until I drove Laajo home. I regretted having thought of dropping her. I felt she'd never speak to me again. She sat on my bike inspite of being told of my inability to drive properly. She expressed so much confidence in me. And I disappointed her. How would I face her again? She'd definitely not talk to me ever again - that's what I thought. But I was proved wrong the next day.

To Be Continued...

This is going to hurt just a little bit!!!

I was forced to visit a dentist thrice in the past one week. And in each one of those long moments that I thrived lying on the dentist's chair with my mouth stretched open for him to peek into and do stuff, the poem 'This is going to hurt just a little bit' by Ogden Nash kept coming into my mind. The humerous poem, which I read in my 10th Standard English Literature textbook, accurately captures the dreadful experience of visiting the dentist, and how inescapable and unavoidable it is, though each time you visit the damn place, you hope that it's your last time. Friends, here's the poem for you. Read and enjoy!

This is going to hurt just a little bit

One thing I like less than most things is sitting in a dentist chair with my mouth wide open.
And that I will never have to do it again is a hope that I am against hope hopen.

Because some tortures are physical and some are mental,
But the one that is both is dental.
It is hard to be self-possessed
With your jaw digging into your chest,

So hard to retain your calm
When your fingernails are making serious alterations in your life line or love line or some other important line in your palm;

So hard to give your usual effect of cheery benignity
When you know your position is one of the two or three in life most lacking in dignity.

And your mouth is like a section of road that is being worked on,
And it is all cluttered up with stone crushers and concrete mixers and drills and steam rollers and there isn't a nerve in your head that you aren't being irked on.

Oh, some people are unfortunate enough to be strung up by thumbs,
And others have things done to their gums,
And your teeth are supposed to be being polished,
But you have reason to believe they are being demolished.
And the circumstance that adds most to your terror
Is that it's all done with a mirror,
Because the dentist may be a bear, or as the Romans used to say, only they were referring to a feminine bear when they said it, an ursa,
But all the same how can you be sure when he takes his crowbar in one hand and mirror in the other he won't get mixed up, the way you do when you try to tie a bow tie with the aid of a mirror, and forget
that left is right and vice versa?

And then at last he says That will be all; but it isn't because he then coats your mouth from cellar to roof
With something that I suspect is generally used to put a shine on a horse's hoof.

And you totter to your feet and think. Well it's all over now and after all it was only this once.
And he says come back in three monce.
And this, O Fate, is I think the most vicious circle that thou ever sentest, That Man has to go continually to the dentist to keep his teeth in good condition
when the chief reason he wants his teeth in good condition is so that he won't have to go to the dentist.

- Ogden Nash

I hope you noticed the pun in the vicious circle. It refers to the circular motion of the dentist's drill and also to the fact that you have to go to the dentist to keep your teeth in a good condition while the main reason you want your teeth in good condition is so that you don't have to go to the dentist. This poem was taught to us by Cherian Sir, and he really enjoyed explaining the Pun. I guess this was his favourite example to explain the figure of speech.

School days were beautiful. I wish I could bring them back. I wish I could be small again. I wish I could again look at everything with the wonder and curiosity filled with the innocence of a child, happy to be lost in atoms, divided by numbers, joined again by the melody of poetry and flown high into the sky into the infinitude of time and space which my little eyes, hands and mind perceived with wonder and amazement.

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Bald is Beautiful!!!

Last weekend I went to a Cosmetic Surgeon to check what it needs to have a hair-transplant, how it is done, how much it costs etc. The doctor unequivocally refused to do my hair-transplant. The reason - The hair-density in my donor area was very poor. The donor area is the area of your body (normally the back of the head, where even baldies usually have some hair) from where the tissue is removed to be implanted on your hairless top. The doctor didn't seem interested in any other donor area. I also didn't bring it up, thinking that he knew better.

He then started telling me how I can cut my hair to look best. I suddenly realized that he was not just a hair-transplant surgeon, but was actually a cosmetic surgeon. His job was not just to grow hair at places where people lost it (usually the head), but also to make people look better. He also did face-lifting and certain other things, besides growing hair. I had gone there to find out the possibility of growing some hair on my head - long, short, noodles, tendrils, curls, whatever - just some damn hair, coz some of my near-and-dear ones have been suggesting getting it done, otherwise no good girl would happily accept getting married to me. It made sense to me too. I'll pass on my genes to my kids, and they'll also lose hair. So I'd be a poor choice for a hubby. Of course transplant does not alter my genes in any way and my kids would be equally vulnerable even if a hair-transplant gets me hair. However it does alter the way the girl would see me while taking a marriage-decision, even if I tell her that the hair on my head has been surgically implanted. It would improve my chances and might encourage the girl the take some risk, as nothing is readily apparent in this case.

If the purpose of our existence is to produce the best progeny, then I might lower down my kids' scores at being the best, unless they inherit my wife's hair. Everything else is pretty fine in me. I am quite immune to diseases, am working on my intelligence (which seems to be improving fast), am sensitive, caring, honest and trustworty, which means that I can take care of my wife and kids better and more reliably. I'm also good in bed and am enormously creative when it comes to sex. I am strongly and strictly against dowry. And as someone said, bald heads are the next stage of evolution coz all futuristic movies have bald characters. So if the current social perception of baldness - which makes a bald person psychologically weak in competing - changes, then chances are that people like me would be the most preferred daddies women would choose for their kids.

The social perceptions about baldness are not likely to change very soon in India. I have seen lots of clean-shaven heads in the US though. And since anything American is seen with awe in India, I have some reason to be optimistic.

However, if things don't change, and my kids have poor donor areas too, there are other good and even better options which will come up in future. The Stem-Cell research has been quite successful and gives a lot of hope. It will make it possible to generate tissues of required density from donor areas with scanty hair. It's an amazing technology and will certainly open up newer, far-reaching and revolutionary ways of making our lives better. There are a lot of social and religious impediments to its surge forward, but I am sure they'll all be overcome, given its immense potential.

Therefore, with so many options - hair-transplant, Stem Cells, etc. I think even the worst case scenario is not too bad. 20 years back, even girls with spects had a hard time getting a good husband. Now, spects isn't a matter at all. Just like contact lenses, and laser therapy - which can help you get rid of glasses forever, hair-transplant and related techniques are very much within reach of the common man. Hair-transplant costs Rs.40,000-50,000 ($1000-1250) in India, which is almost the cost of an average two-wheeler and is permanent and reliable too. I personally don't really think one must give so much importance to looks, but a lot is hard-wired inside us and we do tend to get affected and also affect others when we get opportunities. For those of us at the receiving end, some of us get used to it, some of us compromise, some of us learn to overcome all the pain it causes and learn to be happy with what we have got, and some of us don't get affected at all. The last category are real insensitive maniacs, and must be rare.

Having said that, I should nonetheless add that quite a few girls of my age and younger have told me that I look good with the fully shaven head - the great Indian Takla - I've sported since 23-July-07. That may or may not be a genuine compliment, but I surely feel more comfortable with a clean-shaven head. For one, I don't have to carry a comb all the time, and keep combing once every half hour. I also don't need to worry about my hair-style and about whether the patches of scanty hair are visible. I don't need to align my head this way or that to show or hide the good or bad parts of my head. I also feel more cool and confident. Who needs the dead matter on top anyway! It serves no purpose. I think that's a logical reason why it will be lost as the next step of our evolution. The new mantra for me - Bald is Beautiful!!!