Is Raat ki Subha Nahi ....

Those of you who were not born as the Khandani Rayees with 257 acres of farmland and a few hundred Aaam ka Bagichaas,with seven people turning up when you shouted Raamu ......or if you were unfortunately born with no lineage of tribes or castes and have been deprived of the priviliges under articles 46,243D,243T,330,332 and a few more of the haloed Indian constitution,then in all probability you would have taken an overnight bus journey sometime or the other.....

Well I recently took one to Edinburgh...the first one outside my country.....It was a 10 hour journey with a gap of an hour in between which is provided to do the same things as we do in India.Well almost.

The journey started with the driver announcing in the most pleasant tone he had ,that he was very pleased to have me on board .....which got me real worried for a minute and that he wished that I had a nice and comfortable experience travelling with National Express which then relaxed me quite a bit for though the English are corny at times with their language, they usually refrain from drawing similarities of their personal abilities to something that has a national reference.

I settled down and took out my chappals,red pyjamas,blankets,Dabur Dant Manjan,a severely chewn blue brush, yellow towel,pink comb,Ponds cold cream,Air Pillow,the polythene with the oil stained Aloo ki sabzi and Brown Bread ..No Mummy...No Roti... ....Oh did I forget to say that these guys also have a toliet within the bus and you are well allowed to get the same feeling of satisfaction as you do you in Ganga Tapti Mail,holding the train handle and completing your duty towards Nature.....
Well Almost

The bus was kind of empty and after a quick Pao-from-the-Burger-and-Bhaji-from-my-polythene dinner,I said my daily prayers to Wills Navy Cut at the next bus station and thought of grabbing some sleep.I took out my socks which were really cross with me as they weren't worn long enough to give them the fragrance of 33 dead rotten mice intestines and strecthed out to all the the four seats which came within the longitudinal ambit of my 175cm body.I pushed the seats in front of me a little ahead much to the dislike of the English lady who pushed them back again .After doing this for seventeen times ,she fell asleep in exhaustion and I got my space.Persistence is something we Indians are so exceptionally brilliant at ..So what Mandal bill wasnt passed in 1989...so what we lost bright lives to stop its implementation then ...it will be passed in 2006 ...Hail Democracy !!

Well I was almost asleep and the dreams for the night were just beginning their castings after the "Vicco turmeric ...nahi Cosmetic" commercial, when I was jolted back to my senses.I was suffocating.My whole breathing mechanism had taken a cue from the State Bank employees and were seeming to go on a strike.I sat up and took huge gulps of air.For a moment,I had this feeling again .....when the whole world flashes before your eyes...I have read in some guidance books that this is a sign of your impending death.The last time I had a similar experience was when I saw Kareena Kapoor in Main Prem Ki Deewani Hoon attempting some heavy emotional scene and simultaneously make a face which betrayed complete Baboon lunacy.
This time someone had just farted within the bus and in the name of the father and the son and the holy Ghost, I have not smelt hell, but it could not be worse.
I felt like a guinea pig trapped in a container closed from all sides being injected with lethal cyanide-like air shots.I cried in desperation but the bus had no windows for it was a centrally heated one and boy someone had just added to the heat.
I survived again.Well Almost.

The Dreams cried foul too and packed off for the day... There were to be no more shows unless proper ventilation measures are taken ...they said before leaving .The only one smiling after this were my pair of socks...Damn this species !!!

No sooner had my eyes closed ,when the driver politely announced that we would be taking a short and refreshing break now .The bus would be kept open and all items left in the bus were at the mercy of werewolves,vampires and a few robbers and that we may not worry about the same.It was bloddy 3 a.m. in the morning ...This English politeness kills me .

This country is an advanced one as we all know.Their toilets are spick and span,their mirrors dont have the Birju loves Maina written with the pink lipstick over them...and I was so thrilled so see such a lovely washroom in a bus station that I nearly forgot the purpose of my visit there.Just like the Brits...They are so infatuated with procreation here that they just forget to go the entire distance.The population of UK including England,Wales,Scotland and Ireland and whatever lands that come under this not so united kingdom ,sums up to a little over 6 crores....and let me tell you that the 3 for a pound Condom vending machine within the toilets is certainly not helping matters much .....

After the well avoided refreshment, I fell off to sleep again ....Just as you too might have ,if you have read this far ....
baki ki kahaani kabhi baad me ....bore ho gaya type karte karte ...

Chitti aayee hain ....

I have been trying to attend to my severely malnourished blog for quite some days now.....and I must admit that the attempts have been pretty ridiculous at best.

But today I am about to write about something,the very thought of which may affect many people with violent internal physical reactions where the long intestine tries to strangulate the smaller one leading to highly abnormal behavior by the orifices of the gastro intestinal tract; it may affect some with severe psychotic disorders characterized by wild hallucinations where they visualize pale kings and warriors and slaves all with starved lips and parched looks betraying a deep sense of loss or pain .So please read at your own risk .

I wish to talk about a scene when you wake up in the morning,waste about 5 and three fourth minute in the bathroom,get dressed ...spray the anti-perspirant ....hail the cab....reach the office...log on to your system with the stage all set for the day's activity to begin and then,just as you are about to click on the Outlook icon on your desktop, you see a small note fluttering near the cubicle which says in bold

"We are currently experiencing problems with email servers KINMLVEM03 and KINMLVEM04.
We will notify you once this problem has been resolved.
On behalf of the IT Department
Thank you"

You just sit back in disbelief...Your world just comes crushing down and you are left helpless in this rude sinister world all alone to fend for yourself bereft of the company of the Sri Ganesha mail which I could not forward today to 20 people within 3 minutes of receiving it ,thus losing out on a very needed promotion,without the morning mail from Subhash with the word Paplu in the subject lines which makes me aware and deeply regret that I missed out on some photographs of some very worthy female who was not afraid to show us what God had sent her with.

This is a catastrophe of a very high degree and this has happened to me today.

What is a software engineer's life without a mailbox....May God spare me from hell for these sacrilegious thoughts ..but I sometimes wonder.
What would have happened had the messages in the mailboxes been delivered by the concerned peoples themselves at everyones desk.Imagine 33 people standing in a queue in front of your cubicle coming one after the other trying desperately to wish you a good morning .Some have come with flowers,some with small rascal puppies in their hands..some are standing with a landscape making you realise that you can never go there with your company's salary but can always be wished a very good morning with it .....some have come with Keats himself ..blah blah blah..
Once you have digested the smelly Upma with the watery tea of the canteen and courteously replied good morning to all dogs,poets,snakes,bears and mountains comes the chance of the daily dosage of Thoughts of the Day.

Story 1#
An old wizened gentleman maybe 123 years of age ,comes and makes himself comfortable in the chair near the server and speaks of how his son is in jail for murdering a chicken in Maneka Gandhi's garden and how with great intellect he helped his old father in digging up his garden sitting within those jail premises..This old man comes every week to tell me the same story again and again...Seems to be a very popular hitch hiker in forward mails...this gentleman.....Man some parents can be real panicky about their children's acheivements..I tell you.......I still remember Ankit's mother attempting to put up an article in the local newspaper after the poor soul came second in the sack race in class II.....
I shifted this old man from the server to the Delete button and the last I heard of him was that he was blissfully travelling amongst the Recycle Bin files amazing the .bug files with tales of his son's chivalry...

Moral of the story : Meet the Parents but leave the Focker's alone

Story 2 #
Two poultry farmers in very high spirits came with their bottles of ale.They also invited my project manager to join thier mirth.They told us of how their hens had suddenly become fertile after they had the bright idea of changing the cock.They were patting their own backs as for the first time their wives too had taken the cue and done the same.

Moral : Never equate wives with hen and always drink beer.

After them,came a crow and a rabbit teaching us valuable management lessons,
Then a turkey's sister came and touched our hearts with the story of how her brother was mercilessly shot by a hunter on a tree top.When we asked her ,how he reached such a height she said a bull friend of theirs had helped his brother gain the strength by allowing him to have the nutrients of his droppings.

Moral :Bullshit might get you to the top, but it won't keep you there.

Soon we had people from all departments involved....the HRD, the Finance guys ,the hardware people ..everyone was looking into the problem of one person or the other , one animal or the other ...A team of 4 people were sent onsite to Uganda to do a project on searching an uncle who had recently died leaving $23 million to our Account manager's name .
The HR guy spent the afternoon running around the whole office trying to shooo away the fox who came to declare the quarterly profits....some said it was the personifiation of the CFO's mail .....only few disbeleived ...
Amidst all this chaos,when everyone was chasing away someone or the other,the peon replaced the fluttering notes with the latest one which had just been faxed from the corporate office.....It read

The issue with email servers has not been resolved.Please leave for the day as it has just been informed that one of our very esteemed clients has had a very productive hour long meeting with four managers only to be later learnt that the four were infact four ignorant donkeys who had come to narrate the poor story of their exploitation, to one of the employees.This fact will however not be conveyed to the esteemed client who was very pleased with the meeting outcome and has agreed to do business with our company...Let us all work together and take the company to ne.........................blah blah blah ...and more blah blah .....
Sent on behalf of Corporate to the IT Department
Thank you

This is a place where I work. Nice place it is ...What say ???

A Friendly conversation

My favourite pastime while in Mumbai apart from introducing amazing bugs in existing software applications of my project was swatting mosquitoes.However offensive it may sound to the Mosquito community and its a very strong one let me tell you,it gave me an uncanny pleasure to see the smashed carcass of this extremely dangerous animal plastered against the light creamish or maybe offwhitish background of a not so dirty wall.

I share this fascination with quite a few world leaders such as our very own Mahatma Gandhi who was the worst affected primarily because of his aversion to anything remotely familiar with cloth. Classified files (mostly leaked) say that what people later came to know as the Dandi march was actually initiated by one such mosquito bite on a cold wintry night which so infuriated the elderly gentleman that he thought of taking a fast and spending his remaining life in the Arabian Sea with whales and jelly fishes and had infact set out from his Ashram to this effect.People joined him in his protest and as it always happens in India where plans never work out,they ended up making salt instead.

Richard Nixon was perennially harrassed by a specially trained female Cuban biter of XXIVth Bay of Pigs Squadron.In her biography named "Water through those Gates" ,she writes of her fascination for the President's soft bottom and unhygeinic habits of leaving his litter uncleaned.Though Gerald Ford who succeeded Nixon pardoned him for all his offences, one particular female of the Culex genera could never forgive him for prematurely vacating the White House washrooms as she took an oath of never falling for any US President's bottom ever.The last we heard, was that she was ceremoniously discharged of her sevices,decorated with the Iron Cross by Fidel Castro himself.She leads a quiet life today teaching the younger generation from her new book titled "Ek Choti Si Love Story",which I have learnt has been made into a highly unacclaimed and very unsuccessful film in India with the same title.

Every organism has some part to play in the bio ecological system of Nature or so I thought.Thus after spending a particularly painful hour plucking out nostril hairs on a very mundane Saturday evening ,when I was presented with an interview slot with the extremely busy and well decorated Mosquito General Mr.T in charge of Extremely smelly Armpits and waxy Earlobes infantry division Thane Shakha, I was naturally thrilled.
(For the general information of those who bother to know,Mumbai mosquitoes are named after the English alphabets as the average lifespan of members of the Mumbai Mosquito Branch is 26 days ,slightly above the national average of 23.24 courtesy the great help provided by the inactive sewage cleaning services of the Brihan Mumbai Municipalty corporation.Mosquitoes of Balia and Golaghat are named after Chinese alphabets owing to some similar reasons as stated above.)
Having never had the honour of interviewing a defense personal before,I was naturally apprehensive and arrived sharp on time as scheduled at 6:24 p.m. behind the Kitchen door ,underneath the wet mopper ,within the third hole from the top of my once discarded and profusely smelly brown socks.

Me : "Ahem ,Mr T Good Evening,Honoured to meet you Sir"
Mr T : "Aha Mr.Dasgupta a very Good evening to you,so how has your left armpit been doing of late? I hope my men are taking good care of it "
Me : "Indeed Sir.I had a particularly big pinkish inflammation yesterday evening caused by two of your men's bites ....er...expeditions...you know.... Are you by any chance using stronger toxins and anticoagulants these days ?"
Mr T: "Oh yes we recently recieved the best quality ones from the drains of Khiddirpore you know ....Its tough to get the undiluted ones these days...(Sighs)...A lot of corruption has come within our ranks as well...Its only day before that one of our colonels from the Andheri Brigade was drain marshalled after he was caught red handed sleeping on a Good Night mattress...."
Me : "Oh what a shame.Sir would you like to tell me something about your illustrious career spanning a long 22 days "
Mr T : "Its funny you know , when I look back on my larvaehood days.My mother used to regale me with stories of how I was brilliantly conceived on a particularly moist neck of a Pao Bhaji seller within the vendors compartment of the 6:49 Virar local packed with a total count of 33251 types of animal species.My father seems to have heroically flown over furious rivulets of hot steamy sweat and managed to seduce my mother just as the train crossed the Dharavi slums"
Me : "Oh how fascinating,it must have been for your mother"
Mr T : "Yes (Sighs)... she was a brave Mosquito.I decided to join the defense forces the day I was born alongwith my twenty three thousand five hundred and fifty two other brothers and sisters."
Me : "Oh how chivalrous of you, and I hear that you soon rose very swiftly in the ranks courtesy that amazing proboscis of yours which can even penetrate the thick skinned Patels of Dalal Street...Is it true Sir ?"
Mr T : " Oh ...(smiles and some blushing)..."
Me :" Sir any particular reason to choose my flat as your bastion now ..Of course you are most welcome Sir ..but was naturally curious as regards my good deeds of my previous birth to have earned such an honour "
Mr T " Oh no not at all..on the contary the honour is all mine Mr.Dasgupta..Where else could we find such a rich natural source of continuos carbon dioxide,lactic acid and vegetation than within those immensely fertile armpits of yours"
Me : " Ahem ..Er...Sir, what are those medals for that you are wearing?"
Mr T : "(Smiles and more blushing)...This red one here is a personal favourite you know.I got it for blood sucking the entire Agarwalla family of Flat 102 Block C and the other one you see here is also special as Mr Chinchpokli was very drunk that night and the liquor had begun to get on to my head after the first two bites.However I carried on bravely and managed three more bites....I did bang myself nastily against his huge tummy....he he ....Ah....those bygone days ...........Anyway Mr.Dasgupta ,it has been a real pleasure sharing these special moments with you ,but I must take your leave now as I have to conduct a Special Green Belt Certification program on " The terrains of a Bihari wasteline: Risks and Mitigation plans "

Mr T bowed and flew down to the pool of the stagnating dog pee in the first floor steps where this certification program was to be held.

I switched on my TV and lay back with a sense of complete satisfaction.
I had just realised that Project Managers among mosquitoes too actually do nothing and they share the same Family name with all other PMs of every other species known to mankind.
Viz. "Basicallio Bekaris"

Dellu and Billu ki shaitani


When you start your laptop and the progress bar meant to keep a watch on the boot up of your Windows XP Operating systems thinks of taking a stroll each time to the far ends of the Galaxy for a cup of hot cofee with Cleopatra and returning at its own sweet will ,sometimes even stopping by to watch Aurora borealis from the hilltops of Jupiter...you know theres something wrong with either the lap or the top on it ....

My laptop is ill for the past few days and you feel really sorry to watch her in her pitiable condition. She is hardly a month and a half of age but having seen highly X rated stuff which took me the whole of adoloscence to find ,I must say she is mature way beyond those numerals signify.
Anyway coming back to her illness ,I assume she is going through some gastro intestinal problems and the bloody quacks here have made life worse for both her and me.
Initially her problem was limited to some continuos gurgling sound when fed with music files.But when the gurgles soon turned to gargantuan belches,I put the problem over net to seek advice from the doctors who spend their noble lives in the selfless task of solving any sort of computer ailments from psychedelic crashes caused by an overdose of pornographic downloads to minor problems such as traffic disorders caused by buses and their drunk drivers who practise racing on Lappy's mother's boards.
Anyway the noble doctors had a heated discussion with solutions ranging from importing some latest chipset from the Ethiopian black market to sending hate mails to Bill Gates saying "I really really hate you Bill".

One very dedicated noble person also wrote this :
"Capacitors help manage electricity flow on motherboards."(What Blasphemy !!!)" When capacitors don't work properly, you can probably imagine what happens : meltdown. Ultimately, many motherboards go bad when the capacitors burst and leak brownish goo. Can you see that ?"I strained my eyes for close to 16 minutes to notice any such behaviour but to no avail.I guess Dell does teach their automated children to have better sanitary habits than that.

After much deliberation, sanity prevailed and it was suggested that I reinstall Windows Media Player version 10 from the official site of Microsoft which i had already done 3 and a half dozen times by then .

My friends who call themselves software engineers thought of coming to my "rescue".People at onsite mostly are a frustrated lot primarily because tissues take precedence over water, but that is no reason to take it out on my poor lappy.A Virus Hatao Andolan ensued and downloaded were hundreds of Anti Virus Sprays alongwith Sweet Shirley Flea and Tick Powder and Happy Jack Flea-Tick Powder II.These idiots are infatuated with bugs ,I tell you.
Each of these idiots (the married ones are dumber man !!) kept their Yahoo Messenger windows open so that any latest medication for my lappy's condition is instantly available to them or thats what they told me.Wonder what hairless_ball_01 or luckless_virgin prescribed ,but all these efforts finally took its toll.

Lappy has stopped speaking to me .I tried pleasing her with a specially pirated DVD of Rang De Basanti but after 11 minutes I realised that either I had bought the Deaf and Dumb version of the movie or My Laptop had upgraded herself for Bats or Humpback whales or maybe Bottlenose Dolphins who can hear the ultrasound frequency.

My absence from the bloggers park may be attributed to manifold reasons ranging from Ismail Haniya's hair loss to the abysmal un-"conscience-vote" by the British House of Commons to implement a full smoking ban in all enclosed public places in England from Summer 2007, but this hiatus is primarily because of my poor lappy's condition.

Here's wishing her a speedy recovery and a fervernt appeal to all the softwares engineers to take the pledge to never fiddle with their friend's laptops ever again even when they have nothing better to do than take a hyena census in the Savannahs.

Inglease ................

My first principal was an Australian.....He was a funny chap whom we lovingly called Uncle Sir.Now Uncle Sir was in love with the Queen's language and would go all the way to make us understand that a gerund and a giraffe were not exactly cousins !!!This was in those days when my mom went to drop me to school holding me with her right hand with no more respect than she did the Bazaar ki thaili in the other......I remember R.B stores ..the bakery shop where there was an uncle who used to give me free biscuits to munch ....Its fun munching free biscuits you know .Wonder why Manoj Bajpai said "Kya main kutta hoon kya" in the movie Road when Ms.Mali offered him a few ? Uncouth chap he was !

Haan so we were on the verge of discussing my Australian principal when another very interesting character comes to mind .This guy was from my second school ..No they didnt kick me out of the first ...my Bapuji got transferred and quite a few of my possible and prospective romantic comtemplations met an untimely death......I took it in a very manly way and did not shed a single tear..Within 27 days I had scratched a hideous S in my left hand with the compass expressing my enduring love for a female whose name i cannot fully recollect today. That Ms. S never gave me a penny's worth of attention were all bad rumours spread by jealous classmates.......This character's name,whom I wish to mention here, was Mr.Hajra and he was supposed to be our Physical education teacher ...By the way he never gave the education we wanted though and it was left to those magazines of the genre "They who must not be named" to be our guardians during those tender ages of 13 or 14. Now this guy carried a huge Danda with him (of the Udham Singh species but a little shorter )and especially targetted the soft bottoms of innocent children like us.His lack of respect for our bottoms however earned him no fame and soon there were cat calls behind his back with a minute grammatical modification of his name which disoriented his very sexual direction or lack of them.I learnt the first lessons of morphing in my school toilet walls.
Now there was a daily inspection in our school to see if everyone had dug their noses clean , to check if the number of lice in our hairs had not increased the school defined quota of 18 per male student head and 224 per female strand and quite a few other things one of which also included the particulars of the tie .
Now in the sweltering heat of the summers my tie on that particular day was just a little more attracted to gravity than as had been defined by late Mr Newton.
So Mr.Hajra blocks the school gate with his Udham and asks me " You boy !! Why tie not tie ?" and gave my bottom a shot which had brought out the choiciest of expletives from the poor thing...I read the following day that my Australian principal in Shillong had had a mild stroke at around the same time of this incident.

I traversed a few more years which brought me and my father to our first visit to Gujarat to get me admitted to an engineering college or thats what they had told me in the college brochure ....(Psst....its still says so...Ha ha ha )
The long journey had us ravished and craving for anything that barely resembled food to the Bengali tongue.Little did we realise that where we went in to pacify our stomachs was actually an illegal den where they smuggled the rarest of South Indian reptiles and sold them to KK (thats what every smuggler is named isnt it ?)
But I was very smart and told my Pops that we shouldn't indulge in such activities promptly showing him the menu which read in bold "SOUTH INDIAN SNAKES"
The goon looking guy with the moustache who sat for all transactions at the entrance said in Hindi...Are sir Snacks nahi maloom kya ..Naashta...South Indian Naashta !!! and gave us a comtemptous smile .......Son and father looked at each other ruing their lack of knowledge.My Australian principal who was critically ill after the afore mentioned incident of my school left us for his heavenly abode soon after.

Today here in England ,I feel the same as a Togo Island native would if he were asked to coordinate a conference of the Vogons of the Hitchhiker's fame.
I simply can't understand what they call English.It is more heavily accented than my Granny's pickles were with all that mustard oil. After four months here i have understood that " Venjacumhey " actually is a question which enquires about the time when i reached a particular place where the person asking this has already been present for some time prior to my being there.
Grammar that i never learnt from Mr Wren and Mr.Martin doesnt seem to have an existence here.

But at the end of the day you can just sit back and pat yourself saying "Awrite mate We savaieefd anotha day here.
May the soul of my Uncle Sir rest in peace for he was a nice person and never targetted the soft bottoms of 12 year olds.

Vilayat se..........

England, the country which is so much a part of the Indian psyche.
It starts from the pages of that Indian History text book of class 6 amazing us with tales of Indian chivalry and bravado in fighting off the firangs.From Lala Lajpat Rai to Bhagat Singh,Gandhi to Bose,the Unknown to the Unheard....We fought for and gained our freedom or thats what we learnt in those history books.What happened thereafter is just anyones guess.... Anyway without anymore sounding like the 44 year old painter working as a High court clerk,I wish to pen down something about my days in this country of firangs where strangely they do not anymore shout 'Kutte' at us in an accent which makes Hindi sound like Crocodile fart,nor do not carry whips or wear those wooden hats ..... :-(

Daru aur unginat Budhdhe
This is a strange society though.Quite contrasting at times.The old roam around in Tobu cycle sized scooters which move at say 5 miles an hour while the young are bred on a mixture of concentrated Hydrochloric Acid and AntiIce.
The old are sedate.the young are Punk Shit !!The old are gentle ,The young are Football.The old man sits in the town centre with a paper in hand and some memories,whereas the number of times the young would say Fuck in a single sentence would make one imagine as if its been injected through hypnopædia in their systems.But I must say that one thing all generations revere and hold in the highest esteem is Beer.These English are fishes when it comes to drinking Beer.There is no beating them and surely Keshto Mukherjee must have had British lineage.

Ruk kyon Gaye ......Bajao
My ears are parched to hear the sound of horns in cars.It is assumed to be impolite to bray the horn here and should be considered equivalent to a 'Behen**** kya mera hi gaadi mila tha marne ko', if you are lucky enough to get a horn to your name.

Sahab ..kharcha paani
I recently visited a government office here for some National Insurance number..I met with hospitality and courteousness there and damn it, not a single person forwarded his greasy palm to me for the 5 pounder note.My reaction to it was quite similar to what Evander Holyfield's would have been, had Tyson said "May i bite them please?"

Food. The Lunch plate.....
A mound of mashed Potatoes brimming with the Nobel it got for dumbness.
Some green substances possibly some fern or moss and ...and nothing !!
Thats it ..Well did you expect more .This breed of people have an amazing lack of tastebuds and a bounty of obesity.
Tuntun too must have been British .......

Well its a funny place to be honest....

An Introduction to foolishness

This bloke that you see below is Yours truly .....The look but confirms the fat ass pseudo intellectualism that is so inherent within that fat head of mine .......Of course the Arjun Rampalish hairdo is no longer there. A bloke in Southall(aka Punjab of UK) murdered all those with the swirl of some machine which marauds poor hairs in such a manner that would have put German concentration camps to shame..This guy calls himself a barber and I even paid £5 to have this murder done .... What a shame ....Of course he had warned me enough as the person who came for a hair cut just prior to me saw his Empire of Hairs raised to dust in exactly 1 min and 22 secs and all that was left was a barren field as if bereft of the Indian monsoons ,parched ,dry yet expectant.

First look into this Bloggers Park .....We have a strike

The stage meanders from the days when I fought over lost marbles through the nights spent discussing the lunatic from Floyd's album.From the days when the only trigger i knew was the one that Rajnikanth or was it Mithunda who pulled the same to split a single bullet into two,killing both the fleeing villians instantenously.(Spelling thik hain na?) "Dhishoom" was all that was required to fire this slightly curved object.Today a trigger (not curved) is ruining my life for it just refuses to update some godforsaken table in some far corner of my personal computer which itself is a misnomer for this very personal thing of mine is repeatedly accessed and ravaged by 1400 other personal computers over the day.In civil terms they call it networking or some shit.
Now this trigger is behaving as an old obstinate mule with constipation, or as the Bai of my Mumbai flat on a rainy day would .They just wont work !

There was a time when the notion of this table for me was where a small and happy family (From the Pyar Hua Ikraar Hua ad shown over DD)used to sit to have a cozy dinner of daal roti and chawal.
Windows was an outlet in a room through which I dreamt of my future ,saw myself flying fighter planes bombarding enemy posts to precision,scoring 114 runs in 40 balls and then capturing 4 wickets in 2 overs and then the final catch which wins India the world cup. And today corruption has seeped into even the small crevices of my table where even the nastiest of termites would have bet quarter a pound to reach and would you imagine all my windows were paralysed .Doston ne kahan ke Hang ho gaya. Is this what they call development, hanging poor harmless windows.

So they wont work either !

A primary key was the one my Thamma (granny) used to keep knotted over her saree's pallu.It was a huge key by all streches of imagination,one old rusted piece of iron which I felt had no worthwhile purpose for it wouldnt open a lock in thirty three thousand forty nine years but if the poor thing was misplaced, then all hell broke loose.

Somewhere along the line the meanings changed.
This corruption of my table and my trigger in my very personal but available computer was all initiated by some such stupid key and thus Its a Total Strike today in this day of a software engineer squatting at his client location wondering just where did things go wrong !!!!!!

I also know how to add a link in this page YAHOOOOOOO !!!!!!
Rediff.com
...........................Or Rediff Whatever