tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12913091639129680452024-03-05T16:27:47.142+05:30SuchIsLifeTo the unique journey called life!Anadi Chaturvedihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944351713649066710noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291309163912968045.post-52003508277910674052015-04-09T16:43:00.001+05:302015-04-09T16:43:50.582+05:30Arrey le lo, arrey nahi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Have you ever been caught in the seemingly endless game of "arrey le lo, arrey nahi"? It is that game that you must have played when your relative is about leave your house and furnishes a crisp note of five (or hundred) bucks.<br />
<br />
I do not know how the tradition started but here is how it goes. The relative tries to give you money for being such a wonderful host, while (ideally) it is your duty to ward it off by any means possible. It is sanskari and something Alok Nath would approve of.<br />
<br />
Now the way this is played depends on the gender as well. While your tauji/mausaji will just bellow at you and demand you to keep it, the foofa might give you hard cold "psuedologic" like "arrey jab kamane lagoge tab nahi denge!" (why is it needed in the first place, I wonder?) or as simple as "Baat suno rakhlo beta."<br />
<br />
If the male relative is too tired or the other half just relishes this exciting game then you will find her frantically pacing around her temporary room, searching for notes from different corners of her bags, purses and that red mini blouse-purse. She will come up with a wonderful logic of her own, "Shaadi hogi tab tumhari bahu ko denge" (I am ten years old?!) or as simple as "Isse chocolate le lena".<br />
<br />
As compelling as these arguments may sound, remember, pretend that you do not want the money at all! Pretend! Please give dialogues such as, "Yeh to bahut zyada hai <relatives's relation with you>ji" and then ever so slightly move away from them. You might want to send a quick smile to your parents as well, signalling that everything is according to their plan, while they stand ten feet away, proud their child refused. He is now a mature man. He is not. The art lies in making sure the relative tries again, "Baat suno, le lo", "arrey nahi".<br />
<br />
The third party in this entire episode are your parents. After carefully negotiating with the relative you also need to be able to make sure that they understand that you tried to your fullest and The Adarsh is gushing through your veins. If you are at an expert level, you may experiment making a sad smiley face and exclaiming to your parents, "Yeh to maan hi nahi rhe", while ever so slowly immersing the new wealth in your pocket. A good act can make them empathize with your pathetic condition and may bring the entire episode to a close.<br />
<br />
On the other hand, if you let it linger for too long the parents can lodge a strong protest bringing down amount you will kitty.<br />
"Chaliye de dijiye lekin itne zyada nahi". The dialogue still haunts me.<br />
<br />
After playing this intricate game, you may want to touch their feet and send them home with a warm smile, wondering when they will come back! </div>
Anadi Chaturvedihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944351713649066710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291309163912968045.post-32421488802992155272014-05-27T01:37:00.001+05:302014-05-27T01:37:41.226+05:30Sysad nutrition tips<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Immortalizing it before it gets lost in the vastness of facebook ! :)<div>
<br /></div>
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Anadi Chaturvedihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944351713649066710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291309163912968045.post-36141235237484756002014-02-01T02:07:00.000+05:302014-02-01T02:07:05.558+05:30100 percent!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="text-align: left;">“</span><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;">This time everyone will
get a chance“, </span><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;"><i>they</i></span><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;">
hissed, as </span><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;"><i>they</i></span><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;"> tried
to protect </span><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;"><i>it</i></span><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;"> from
</span><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;"><i>them</i></span><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;">. It was a dull
dark night when a congregation gathered around a shining white, rare
artifact which appeared only once a year. The artifact was said to
have such powerful magical effects that on consuming it would give
ultimate happiness and bliss and would remove all the consumer’s
grievances at once.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Everyone had gathered to
be a part of </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>it</i></span><span style="font-size: small;">, they
wanted to touch it, feel it and have a taste of it but were afraid of
someone – the Marauders. For years and years they had infested the
region and it was up to the Guardians to protect </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>it</i></span><span style="font-size: small;">.
The Guardians had always failed miserably, the Marauders always
overpowered them and broke their defenses. Even though The Guardians
gave their best fight they were never able to match the impregnable
strength and sheer willpower of the Marauders. It was said that the
Marauders had taken an oath called “100 percent” under which they
had no choice but to </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>“take in possession of THE artifact whenever it appeared”. </i></span><span style="font-size: small;">Anyone
of the Marauders if failed was deeply humiliated and given far worse
punishment then mankind could think of.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Tension grew, everyone
held their breath as the ritual of human sacrifice was carried out,
for the secret enchanted locks covering the artifact required
sacrifice of a noble soul. “Nahi, please don’t do this to me. I
don’t deserve this”, he yelled but no one paid heed. Sensing the
crowd was not in any mood of showing mercy he quietly prayed and gave
all his possessions to a dear friend. “Kill him!” the crowd
jeered and lifted him up. He tried to struggle free and kicked about
his hands and legs but to no avail. For the next five minutes he was
subjected to brutal kicking and hitting by everyone. Then he was left
free and pelted stones at even as he tried to run but couldn’t and
finally gave up and fell down. The crowd realizing that their target
was vulnerable washed him with immensely cold water till he made no
movement and killed his spastic outbursts. As he lay there fully
paralyzed there was a glint in everyone’s eyes since they knew that
this time they had succeeded and would finally get to reap the
rewards.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The locks were carefully
decrypted and the sacrifice was put to use. Slowly the packaging was
removed and the glow was stronger than ever. It was beautifully
carved, symmetrical from all angles with neatly done edges. Its
surface appeared to be as smooth as an oyster’s pearl and had
intricate carvings of powerful spells while underneath there was a
stronger foundation although it had properties resembling a sponge.
The people circled around the prized possession and were about to
read the enchanted lines when suddenly from behind, the Marauders,
out of nowhere, attacked them. Panic spread while the Marauders threw
the weak out of their way with utmost ease. The Guardians realizing
this took fast action and formed a human chain out of them.
“Certainly, we can’t fail this time “, the Guardians thought
and in a split second decided to read out the enchanted words and
consume it among themselves.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Meanwhile the Marauders
sped through the rings of people and only the last layer was left.
Sensing that the Guardians were about to execute the magical powers
of the item and that their “100 percent” oath was in danger</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">HAPPY BIRTHDAY”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The two groups shouted in
unison and tried to grab as much of the </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>BIRTHDAY
CAKE</i></span><span style="font-size: small;"> as they could. Everyone tussled as they
all tried to reach for the cake, some were lucky and got handful of
cake while some got it swatted all over their shirt or ended dropping
it. But one thing was for certain-</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">Yes! 100 percent record
still not broken” </span>
</div>
</div>
Anadi Chaturvedihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944351713649066710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291309163912968045.post-27567030578482021192014-01-31T03:01:00.000+05:302014-01-31T03:01:15.147+05:30Are u there??<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyfuZfQw84yCjngOwFSIE6N-4Yd0WuESXjzQgRmsI8ql5Q-1ZsnhTwgtYpPFENPN3fd6t34OGcNUZoUJs1MEZitUCykWUZ0ZN4dDAtcQSwsve4iLlDEhbJBSER-gwWciC_kgNQ3jrniaY/s1600/Donnie-Darko.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyfuZfQw84yCjngOwFSIE6N-4Yd0WuESXjzQgRmsI8ql5Q-1ZsnhTwgtYpPFENPN3fd6t34OGcNUZoUJs1MEZitUCykWUZ0ZN4dDAtcQSwsve4iLlDEhbJBSER-gwWciC_kgNQ3jrniaY/s320/Donnie-Darko.jpg" height="320" width="233" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Are u there?<br />
(poke)<br />
Are u there?<br />
(poke)<br />
#gets a stick<br />
are you there?<br />
#pokes with a wooden stick<br />
(She-bunny not responding)<br />
(Gets closer to she bunny)<br />
#she bunny is seething with anger. She looks at him, he isnt that handsome, but there is something likeable<br />
about him<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkEgepHScv2Y68jBAUH2PVcbO9o5mf9lYyUY_esw2o_u6LpF7MqZfluadsIf9awIHcerZA0PAPMBv2pdu1CKKbHqnOZNzcoO6Xdmdw-NTbQlRuVYFfgLnmt6dDdPDEkuh99csobgaHzzw/s1600/angry-hare.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkEgepHScv2Y68jBAUH2PVcbO9o5mf9lYyUY_esw2o_u6LpF7MqZfluadsIf9awIHcerZA0PAPMBv2pdu1CKKbHqnOZNzcoO6Xdmdw-NTbQlRuVYFfgLnmt6dDdPDEkuh99csobgaHzzw/s200/angry-hare.jpg" height="200" width="157" /></a></div>
<br />
#poke<br />
#poke again<br />
U there?<br />
She looks at him for a brief moment and looks away instantly, disgusted by him<br />
U there?<br />
#poke<br />
(throws away the wooden stick)<br />
U there? Gentle poke<br />
She looks at him, stares into his soul but doesnt respond<br />
U there?<br />
She is very agitated now by the incessant pokes<br />
She signals her brain to do something. Brain flatly refuses<br />
Meanwhile,<br />
U there?<br />
poke on her hand<br />
She grunts to shoo him away<br />
u there?<br />
he moves even closer, she doesnt know how to respond. They are within inches now<br />
Shes expecting a poke anytime soon<br />
U there<br />
No poke<br />
Mildly surprised, she opens her mouth<br />
Poke<br />
Now shes outright angry<br />
He moves even closer. She is resolute. She will not talk to him. By now her surfaces are touching his. She bunny feels sensations never felt before. Deep tingling sensations reverbrate throughout her body. Her heart is beating faster. She snaps back to reality<br />
Her face is red, blood pumping across her body<br />
U there<br />
Strangely no poking this time<br />
U there<br />
again, no poking<br />
The tingling sensation spreads across her body, her perfect derriere being grabbed violently. Her frontal lobes are hard yet glow softly, blood gushing to all parts of her body. She bunny looks at the heavens, jaw wide open as her bountiness is touched softly.<br />
her anger has dissipated, another burst of sensation engulfs her. She is completely swallowed by pleasure as his tongue swoons down on her. He looks poignant, his eyes hold clarity and conviction.<br />
she looks straight at him, anger subdued<br />
im here!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C7EfRAlRP1c">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VTUCZ7wPG6w</a></div>
Anadi Chaturvedihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944351713649066710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291309163912968045.post-31747645677369915692014-01-31T02:54:00.000+05:302014-01-31T03:17:59.200+05:30The day the bookwallah stood still<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: left;">(I wrote this a couple of years back. Thought i would put it up here as well. Looking back at this incident, i think i shouldn't have made so much fuss!)</span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: left;">It was a typical Delhi summer evening
–hot, a bit humid and lots of traffic on the street. As hordes of
cars and bikes dashed through the road in front of my apartment, I
carefully made my way towards the market on the opposite side. I was
going to pay a visit to the bookwallah and rent a novel. I had
already paid him 110 rupees from which 55 had to be deducted since I
was going to return Archer’s </span><i style="text-align: left;">Only time</i><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><i style="text-align: left;">will tell</i><span style="text-align: left;">. A
bit disappointed by it I had made up my mind that the next one would
be from a different author, probably Ludlum.</span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Over the years the marketplace known
as ‘sector 4 ka market’ had grown in popularity and shops. I
still remember a few years back when the place had many shops in
three storey buildings erected at regular intervals with space for
parking in between. With rapid population growth (not a new thing in
India), first came the indigenous burger <i>thelewala </i>who made
burgers using aloo ki tikki and pav bhaji buns. The hungry
population jumped at it. After all you did not get 15 rupees burgers
full of butter and <i>paneer </i>in the bakery shops. Come now and
you will realize how successful even a balloon seller is. I still
cannot understand how he can sell them every day?! (It’s not as if
this is some India Gate or a picnic spot where families hang around
and buy their children a balloon! )<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
After five minute of walking past two
complexes I found the bookwallah with a rickety wooden bed on which
rows of books were placed, some old some brand new ready to go to a
new home. My mind quickly ran through the arguments I was going to
present to him in the hope of convincing him that the book he claimed
to be a very interesting read wasn’t and he better give me a better
deal for the next one.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Before I continue, let me introduce you
to the golden rule of bargaining I have learnt over the past few
years by watching family members, relatives and strangers arguing
till the seller gave in to their demands. It is just like any other
art. Some are born with it some aren’t. Unfortunately I never
inherited these ‘bargaining genes’. Even a ten bucks discount
would make me proud, but this time it was going to be different.
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Bhaiya, the last book you gave me
was nothing which you had claimed it to be. I can’t imagine how you
could call this the most popular book you have ever sold”, I said
in a loud and clear voice.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“No problem. Try this one”, he
pointed out at another book by Jeffrey Archer. A weak start but I
calmly picked it up and read its synopsis at the back.<br />
<br />
See the first
rule of bargaining is to appear confident that you are a regular
customer and hold great knowledge about the subject in question, in this case- novels. If you show even the
slightest of a hint that you are interested in one particular book
then he is going to make sure that you buy it at his price.<br />
<br />
So I
gently placed it back to its place and inquired about a few other
books.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Has the new edition of Digits come
out? And also show me Linux For You”, while I picked up Chip. He
diligently went to the other end of the bed and carefully picked them
out. “Do you sell any other computer magazine?”<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
By this time he had probably realized
that I was serious about buying something. He ignored a few other
potential buyers and even gave me the privilege to take one of the
magazines out of its cover to have a better look.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Realising that I had gained his faith,
I quietly put down all the magazines and started browsing through
novels. One of them which caught my eye was Khaled Hosseini’s “A
thousand splendid suns”. I decided to hide my intention of
acquiring it and instead picked up some other novel.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“A great pick. This is the last copy”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“But I want it on rent. How much for
it?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Sixty rupees”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“That’s too much”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Fixed price”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“But last time you had said that old
novels cost less”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Prices have increased. Everything
costs so much nowadays.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“But I asked you two days ago”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And the bookwallah stood still. I was
about to enjoy my moral victory when he quipped, “I increased the
prices yesterday itself”.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I acted as If I never heard him and
continued to browse through other books. Finally I picked up
Hosseini’s novel and enquired its price. His reply was the same.
Annoyed with his attitude I decided to give another bookseller a try
and asked for my remaining security deposit.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
At this point you might feel that I was
acting too miserly but give me a chance to explain myself. A typical
bookwallah usually charges around sixty bucks if you rent a fairly
popular novel written by Sheldon or Archer. The prize goes up to
ninety if you happen to like JK Rowling or Dan Brown. An average
reader, busy with other things, usually takes around a week to finish
one off. And here I was, on a vacation with not much to do completing
a novel in two or three days. I just could not see myself spending
hundreds of bucks on second hand novels every week especially when I
knew that these guys bought it at the same price that they gave it on
rent. Go visit Nayi Sarak in Delhi if you don’t believe me.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But more startling was his reply.
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“That is not possible. I have been
given strict instructions from my uncle not to give any remaining
amount in someone’s account. You just have to buy some other book
from it”.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
Strike one!<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This was something unexpected. Have you
ever imagined being refused money given as a security deposit? I
regained composure and demanded my security deposit back. He tersely
replied that it was not possible and served another customer.
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A bead of sweat trickled down my neck.
This was no longer about bargaining but rescuing money which was
rightfully mine. I silently waited till he walked back to his rickety
stool and sat back. This time I took a few steps towards him and
asked him angrily, “So you are saying you are not going to give me
MY money? Do you think I am going to listen to all the rubbish you
are telling me?”. He was certainly taken aback by my act of
aggression and this time in a lower voice said, ”I cannot do
anything. My uncle has told me not to return any deposit”.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Where is he right now?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“He is attending a wedding in his
native village”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Does that really concern me? All I
need is the remaining balance. You are ripping everyone off”. The
conversation went on and on for several minutes. Infact a few people
stopped by and started to take interest in our heated argument.
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
He kept on arguing that he was bound by
his uncle’s instructions and took out his mobile.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yeah go on, talk to your uncle.
Let’s see what he says.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I am not. I just want to know the
time”.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Strike two!<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I had never felt this helpless. This
was certainly not in the plan. I tried to take control of the
situation by browsing around another bunch of novels. While my hands
flipped through pages my mind was busy thinking of a new ‘rescue’
plan. Another round of reasoning failed.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“See I am not gonna leave till you
give me my security deposit. Or you could try give me a novel at a
fair price.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“That’s not possible”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Fine, I am taking this book. How
much for it?”, I picked up A thousand splendid suns.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I told you, sixty rupees”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You already have my fifty five
rupees.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Fine this time I will allow you, but
next time I’ll take the full amount”. He was obviously tired of
arguing and decided to allow a five rupee concession.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Fine!”<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A home run!
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
What he had forgotten was that I had
taken a book without giving him any additional security deposit and
now I basically owned the book! I briskly walked and after a few
moments looked back.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The bookwallah stood still. For a
moment I thought he had realized his mistake and might call me back
but he stood still as he waited to serve another novel enthusiast.
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
People love to showcase their prized
possessions. Whenever you visit someone’s house you will be greeted
with these wonderful statuettes given to them as a prize, or maybe a
plaque boasting their achievement. Come to my house and you will find
a small yellow cover novel resting peacefully in the display cabinet.</div>
</div>
Anadi Chaturvedihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944351713649066710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291309163912968045.post-4805838626800376242013-12-27T16:52:00.002+05:302013-12-27T16:52:52.806+05:30Pooja,Poori and preparation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I told my parents that I was planning to leave for chandigarh the next morning at around 6, they gasped. As they looked at me in horror, my dad asked "but how will YOU get to the station in time? I don't think you will be able to make it in time. Will you be able to wake up by 5?"<br />
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"Why do I need to wake up at 5? The train departs at 7:40. That's pretty late, that's 8AM. 8 is alright?!" Shocked they quietly went to bed.</div>
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I woke up at 6. After brushing, going through my daily chores and deodorizing myself, I was ready. It was 6:20. I was the modern traveller, I thought proudly. Practical and efficient. No pooja, no pooris. The thought got me thinking. The answer was right there in front of me! The train <i>had always</i> departed at 7:40 but what was different was how my parents and probably every middle class approached the whole concept of "travelling".</div>
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In those times IRCT had not been launched and the pantry service was severely disorganized and pathetic. Indian Railways was the typical Babu, lethargic and insensitive. Trains were routinely late and sometimes one needed a calender and not a watch to keep track of a train's progress. Obviously the family needed to be fed some great quality food while everyone stared at a stationery jungle or a farm in the middle of nowhere.</div>
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And the perfect food was the humble puri and jeera-aaloo or aaloo-gobhi and or nimbu ka achaar. I wondered why we never had simple rotis/chapatis/phulkes? My mom's argument was that puris were easier to cook. You just had to throw the dough in fried oil and voila.</div>
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So the Mother would wake up an hour earlier to cook puris. Thus instead of 6 she would have had to wake up at 5. </div>
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But wait?! What about <b>thakurji (</b>he demands attention and respect, thus the bold font)<b> </b>residing in the small temple in our homes? Surely He could not have been left "unprayered" and "unbathed" for so many days. Pooja had to be performed before leaving. Moreover it couldn't be performed by a dirty squalor. Therefore an absolute prerequisite for pooja was that you had to have a bath.An extra hour. Poor Mother should now wake up at 4. </div>
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Meanwhile Dad would refuse to budge unless he was given chai.It is still unknown why it is the last thing he must do before leaving the house.No one can deprive him of those fifteen, tranquil, minutes when he happily sipped tea.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU9G3NYxNIVS-EfIDaR_djTn3fuoS41M9jkq2HOc5Bfk02nE5UDUq1uHYhWokhKkaG8mOSELofkt6rVhitbdSwrDZoCamp5JMz7yLf9iw1Ur-PwMan7wfXugxetN42qO14EbBMTxJYzFw/s1600/20131227_164733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU9G3NYxNIVS-EfIDaR_djTn3fuoS41M9jkq2HOc5Bfk02nE5UDUq1uHYhWokhKkaG8mOSELofkt6rVhitbdSwrDZoCamp5JMz7yLf9iw1Ur-PwMan7wfXugxetN42qO14EbBMTxJYzFw/s640/20131227_164733.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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As you can clearly see this graph shows the time taken to get ready vs year/era. The reason for such a high spike before Kalyug is probably the havans and poojas everyone performed before doing anything. I mean Bhagwan Ram didn't just wake up, put on some indigenous deodorant (neem pattis?) and left for Gurukul. No sir. Infact the whole family performed lots of poojas for many days before He was allowed to leave.</div>
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Anadi Chaturvedihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944351713649066710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291309163912968045.post-4503034810894692222013-09-15T02:45:00.002+05:302013-09-15T11:54:42.886+05:30Beware of the Black Dog<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A youtube clip grabbed my attention recently. Since then I watch it whenever I feel bored/tired/sad/sick/tired/annoyed. It's a clip from a very popular Bollywood movie and the scene gave me goosebumps the first time I saw it. Without holding you on further, here is the link.<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OnnXsnxWYqY" target="_blank">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OnnXsnxWYqY</a></div>
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For those of you who could not understand Amrish Puri's dialogue for whatever reasons here is the punchline, quite literally-</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihnEDkqf5yoRHi1SAyKxnHTD-I9fg5VAh_MlwLTKzUW5WHowigaOLji99HpKPuL_390nTk4gaGEUCh_1WfU2gdkmdeQJ8Ce2wbC3togBFu7RwI-qX25T6X0TpwwlS-x6ecs7jg9Us5-ZE/s1600/horny+amrish+puri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="127" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihnEDkqf5yoRHi1SAyKxnHTD-I9fg5VAh_MlwLTKzUW5WHowigaOLji99HpKPuL_390nTk4gaGEUCh_1WfU2gdkmdeQJ8Ce2wbC3togBFu7RwI-qX25T6X0TpwwlS-x6ecs7jg9Us5-ZE/s400/horny+amrish+puri.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How horny Puri's blood cells look like</td></tr>
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Did you notice how subtly the director has been able to connect Black Dog whiskey with Amrish Puri's inner dogs? Or that music? India's own hip hop music! Music aficionados would have correctly spotted the base beat as this- <a href="http://youtu.be/OnnXsnxWYqY?t=1s">http://youtu.be/OnnXsnxWYqY?t=1s</a>; <a href="http://youtu.be/OnnXsnxWYqY?t=4s">http://youtu.be/OnnXsnxWYqY?t=4s</a>;<br />
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And how come we never tried tipping waiters beforehand?! I mean, who doesn't want a superior service? And it works too! Observe carefully and you will realise the waiter already knew that Puri will reject "Chivarse" Regal straightway and therefore kept a bottle of Black Dog with him. The screenwriter thus convinces us, the viewers, that tipping early does help!<br />
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On the other hand, Prem Chopra's acting is quite dismal. What kind of a word is Amaiyya?!? Imagine sitting in a nice place with a friend and saying Amaiiya, are you alright today? (<a href="http://youtu.be/OnnXsnxWYqY?t=23s">http://youtu.be/OnnXsnxWYqY?t=23s</a>). And you certainly don't say Mmmmmhmmmm kya baat hai (<a href="http://youtu.be/OnnXsnxWYqY?t=35s">http://youtu.be/OnnXsnxWYqY?t=35s</a>). You say that when you have delicious pakodas not while Puri describes you about his inner dogs!<br />
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Bollywood rocks!</div>
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Anadi Chaturvedihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944351713649066710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291309163912968045.post-68238999852768395772013-08-05T21:45:00.000+05:302013-08-05T21:45:13.708+05:30 The Jockey Culture<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I don't have a very good sense of fashion. Shopping for clothes can be a very stressing excericse for me. But one thing that I am really proud of is the fact that I shifted to Jockey! The moment I tried one I knew I was part of the community just like them-><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8C3vnhBu_C_XhypZLVk7tJdb6qSpBqvFwAmnDOOvXczNYFc-L51zFy2jpetch42tfKnaMwxJkCMyyGUj7Uh29hzG437UGMnOPICY3i4Kk3os44anGf_Epjb3owOe6QTp3wLRinp8U3aE/s1600/jockey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8C3vnhBu_C_XhypZLVk7tJdb6qSpBqvFwAmnDOOvXczNYFc-L51zFy2jpetch42tfKnaMwxJkCMyyGUj7Uh29hzG437UGMnOPICY3i4Kk3os44anGf_Epjb3owOe6QTp3wLRinp8U3aE/s320/jockey.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Jockey community</td></tr>
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There was a time when indigenous VIP and Lux Cozi (with an I) probably created the "coolest" underwear for the humble middle class of India. Back in those medieval times, underwear was simple and you got those cotton ones with an elastic band around them. Everyone wore the same socialist chaddis.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitDmEeEAgyEvROKD0UJZbBaveJD0Ldn7CN3Jvlfyan78cAM8HRGLkQ6oVDjp4paIK7yTmWk_Fh5U9zn5B6D9wavZzadbEgE48DMjWLBhRSBJqyMbzc0OYfNWn3i_D9SDM2bqmP_EzPrX4/s1600/frenchie-frenchie-euro-fit-frenchie-xl-400x400-imadg38yqukwg8ch.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="129" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitDmEeEAgyEvROKD0UJZbBaveJD0Ldn7CN3Jvlfyan78cAM8HRGLkQ6oVDjp4paIK7yTmWk_Fh5U9zn5B6D9wavZzadbEgE48DMjWLBhRSBJqyMbzc0OYfNWn3i_D9SDM2bqmP_EzPrX4/s200/frenchie-frenchie-euro-fit-frenchie-xl-400x400-imadg38yqukwg8ch.jpeg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This single variety dominated the brief landscape back in the 90's</td></tr>
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But then something happened which changed the equation, most likely liberalisation and globalisation. And vip got a kick on its bum. Jockey had arrived with their cool ads and funky underpants! Their products and advertisement caught the imagination of everyone. My schoolmates had intense discussions about it in the school bus. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyNUoNfliq8b-2eafRIwrh3WN64T4jSzAS_K8TTzxwSYF05Up6A-NbYzC3bAtH9-ocD8Me9SuK8F9rS38xR2lZlXsuZao7N3U5sIFznA744QgEuygAqzguQebuWySoJBs_HKwowFLPRiM/s1600/Image+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyNUoNfliq8b-2eafRIwrh3WN64T4jSzAS_K8TTzxwSYF05Up6A-NbYzC3bAtH9-ocD8Me9SuK8F9rS38xR2lZlXsuZao7N3U5sIFznA744QgEuygAqzguQebuWySoJBs_HKwowFLPRiM/s320/Image+%25284%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Suddenly, wearing expensive and flashy underwear was a necessity. Everyone wanted to be branded, owned by Jockey. Meanwhile, I was trying hard to resist this cultural revolution. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4kusb_6STZ6aRImGaJ8JpApbz4sgbFMC12g-L4RjD6lvP-F_-2CyoFWG-Xx-U42o4SccTGcm-D10MxZGPZLb5O1tKUMe6F2YJQt3ewdpNkSedxy-yNOdMkCKQhf-a7K2c1JRwYdbFk0E/s1600/Image+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4kusb_6STZ6aRImGaJ8JpApbz4sgbFMC12g-L4RjD6lvP-F_-2CyoFWG-Xx-U42o4SccTGcm-D10MxZGPZLb5O1tKUMe6F2YJQt3ewdpNkSedxy-yNOdMkCKQhf-a7K2c1JRwYdbFk0E/s320/Image+%25283%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I told <i>them </i>it was way expensive. Today, it costs around Rs 200 a piece, more than double the amount what VIP costs (I googled). <i>They </i>said it was very comfortable. I said look at all the variety, that's confusing! They said don't be a dork and get one!</div>
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So I did. And I had never felt happier. Suddenly you felt cool and had the confidence that you can take on the world. Their boxers were like an additional pair of lungs! They breathed! Moreover here was a brand responsible for creating, perhaps, thousands of jobs. They had launched so many different underpants that small scale shopkeepers had to keep a specialist who was well versed with Jockey varieties. The specialist would listen to your requirements and give you the perfect piece, just like shoes or shirts. I realised this when I paid a visit to the neighbourwallah undergarment store once.</div>
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Me-"Im looking for briefs"</div>
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Sardarji-"Yeh lo VIP, nabbhe rupaye"</div>
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Me-"Jockey chaiye"</div>
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Sardarji-"Udhar jaao" (pointing towards his son)</div>
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Me-"Wahan bheed hai..."</div>
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Sardarji-"Jo(h)key wahi batayega..."</div>
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The older generation had no clue how to sell all these different kinds. For them all were the same be it the high cut brief, low cut brief or the bikini cut. (courtesy: <a href="http://www.jockeyindia.com/17/men/category/regular-brief.aspx">http://www.jockeyindia.com</a>).</div>
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When other international brands realised the potential of Indian markets they jumped at the opportunity. Soon we had rack-fulls of CK, Levi's, Diesel, Fruit of the Loom, Hanes among others trying to dislodge Jockey from the top spot. I'm sure they did eat away a lot of business from our favourite brand. But who wears one with apples and grapes drawn on it, right?</div>
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Anadi Chaturvedihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944351713649066710noreply@blogger.com2