Come On Baby, Light My Fire

Alright now, it’s not very often that a dame hits on me in a pub and today happened to be one of those rare days. I was standing at the bar and this chick was totally checking me out (she was, seriously). And she was the kinds that I really dig, short hair, nerd glasses (I really really have thing for women with nerd glasses). So anyway, she hit the dance floor with a friend and boy I had steam coming out of my ears. All the while that she was dancing she was giving me "The Looks". She was so damn hot that she could make a devil sweat! Then she put cig in her mouth and started walking towards me.
She-“Could you light it for me please”
Me-‘Sure thing’
Okay J boy, this is going to be easy. This is your day. Now I really take pride in my collection of Zippos and the one I was carrying today was JD (Jack Daniel) collector’s edition. I whipped out the Zippo out of the pocket like the cowboy whips out his gun.I Opened the cover with my thumb, bought the Zippo to her cig and rolled my fingers over and------- nothing, no flame. Its okay things happen- stay cool. I did it again and----- bzzzzzz and whosshhh. It flickered and went off. I couldn’t figure out if her bloody Mary was more red or my face. What the fuck!. I did it again and again------ no luck.

“Forget it sweetheart, you can’t light my fire!”

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!! JD, JD- Et tu, JD?.

Its okay JD boy, I still love you and here is my ode to JD from ‘Scent of a woman’-

Lt. Col. Frank Slade:I want it wall to wall John Daniels.
Charlie Simms: Don't you mean Jack, sir?
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: He may be Jack to you but when you've known him as long as I have...

Now what I am trying to figure out is which is more embarrassing incident- This one or the one I had when I was 10 – 12 years old. I had this huge crush on my teacher (incidentally she also had short hair and glasses). She was teaching something I was staring at her like a lost puppy. Now as it is I have dopey eyes and I look lost even when I am not, so you can imagine how it is like when I am really lost. Everything else was oblivious to me , the blackboard, the kids around, what she was saying, everything. She was teaching history but she might have be teaching maths and would not have noticed. Anyways, she moved toward me and extended her hand and I just held her hand and she goes…”Er, J, I was asking for the book”.
*Huge uproar* and I wake up -“Sorry ma’am”- *still holding her hand*.
She-“My hand, and please pass the book”
Me- “Oh! Sorry”- *left her hand and passed the book*
She- “Thanks” and smiles.
Awwwwwwwwwwwww ! And I was lost again.

Take 5- Women

Women look great in-1) Ganji and Jeans- Babe you are a rockstar!
2) Short black silk one piece dress- Drooolingggggggggggg!
3) Short Kurta with Patiala Salwar- Something about it!
4) White chiffon churidar- Elegance personified!
5) Spaghetti top with linen pyjama- Don’t give a damn look!

Women smell great in-1) Chanel number 5.
2) Burberry Brit.
3) Davidoff cool waters
4) Armani Code.
5) Bvlgari blv Absolute.

Sheer Torture-1) Brazilian wax.
2) Brazilian wax.
3) Brazilian wax.
4) Brazilian wax.
5) Brazilian wax.

Chick flicks- Picking just 5 is difficult. However, I shall give it my best shot.
1) Autumn in New York.
2) City of Angels.
3) It could happen to you.
4) Four weddings and a funeral.
5) Dirty Dancing.

Chick lits- People I need help here!!!

I will never date-

1) Miss Self pity- The kind who feel there is cosmic conspiracy going on against them.
2) Miss You- were- born- to- pay- for- me- The kind who think men are indebted to finance her life.
3) Miss Feminist- The kind who think ‘They are all after one thing”.
4) Miss Oh- my –god- Snobs. The kind who snigger at the thought of eating at road side or shopping from flea market.
5) Miss Missed call- These ones take the cake.Although they roll up to Miss You- were- born- to- pay- for- me but they really deserve a special mention. The kind who will spend thousands on shopping but will give a missed call when they want to talk to you.

Now this, is my Delhi!

These were taken from my cell phone so are not technically great, but this is Delhi in winters for you! And a month long supply of classic milds for whoever guesses which place this is.

Beauty is only skin deep, Tattoo goes down to your bone

I have always believed that a tattoo should tell a story. If it does not then it’s not a tattoo, it’s just another style statement. Every body has that one story in their life, and what better way to tell that story than a tattoo. This is the story of my Tattoo- A phoenix on my right arm.
I was always a good student, a darling of teachers and parents. My path was well laid out, SRCC and then MBA from IIM. Expectations kept rising and I toiled hard to keep up with them. Even if I scored 70 % it was not good enough-" Not from you J, you are loosing focus, this is not good enough". The pressure started getting on my nerves, I could not sleep at nights. Before the exams I started going blank, while writing exams my hands used to get so sweaty that I could hardly hold the pen. I just could not handle the pressure and screwed up my 12th exams, got 70 percent.
I said to myself "It's just one exam, I still have whole life ahead of me and I’ am going to make best use of it". I did well in my first year of graduation and started preparing simultaneously for MBA. Life was good again and I was back on track. But well, life had other plans for me. Just before my second year exam I got severe jaundice. I was determined not let this effect me, I use to wake up at night to study so that nobody came to know that I was exerting myself. All this exertion deteriorated my condition even further and well, I could not give my second year exams.
I was still determined not to give up.We humans have this spirit to survive which shouts and screams inside-"I will not give up". I gave my 2nd year exams next year and did extremely well. The MBA prep was going great. I said to myself-" The worse is behind me and now there is only one way and that’s up". I was all set for my final year exams and MBA entrance, nothing could go wrong now. But I guess I spoke a little too soon. I met with a fatal accident, a life threatening one.
I survived the accident, but I was completely broken from within. I just could fight anymore. I told my dad in the hospital-" Dad, I can’t fight life anymore, I am destined to fail". My Dad looked in my eyes and replied- " J, when you were fighting for your life, the doc told me that your chance to survive depend on your will to live more than anything else. And I told him, then he will live doc, he bloody well will live!".” Son, you are alive now so why do you want to stop living".
Those five minutes changed my life. I was ready for the new challenge. I told life-" You give me your best shot and I will give you mine, lets see who wins". I finished my grad and dropped the plan for MBA, at least for the time being since I had already lost 2 years. Plus I had few things to prove to myself before I did MBA. I took up a job and started from scratch. I started working my ass off and moved up the ladder. I took up projects which were messy and others were too cautious to touch them. I had no fear anymore, I had started my life from scratch time and again and if need be I could do it again. The risks paid off and I was on! I had risen from my ashes.
That’s what my Tattoo is all about. It’s got Phoenix in the middle and rays all around, the rays depict the God and it means with gods grace anybody can rise from their ashes.
That's my story, what’s yours?

Kitchen Kings

For all those who are in utter state of depression, you haven't had a good laugh in ages, all your neighborhood kids have started calling you Uncle and Aunty, may i recommend a solution. All you have to do is enter into Bachelor's kitchen and rest assured you will have a laugh of your life. They don't even have to cook, just their presence in the kitchen is a source of entertainment. If some millionaire is reading this blog, please sponsor me and I will direct a 100 episode series on the Bachelors and their war room. Forget cooking even making tea is a laugh a riot episode. Here is a sample-
Now on the weekends we need regular supply of tea, and at least 3 to 4 times in the morning it needs to be made at home, because we are too lazy to go to Mamu(he runs the Irani cafe near our house). So the first one to wake up is Dr( Why, when and by whom he was nicknamed doctor no one knows, I can only assume that it was because of his handwriting) and shouts- " Abe doodh kaha hai?" some one replies from some room " Phat Gaya". Dr- " Milk Powder?", that some one again- "Jam Gaya"(its frozen). Dr-" Abe chai kya beer mein banagi".
Now its time for Colonel Dr to take charge of the command. He comes into my room and kicks my non- existent butt( Iam so thin that the only reason I carry a cell phone in my pocket is so that I don't get blown away by wind)
Dr-" J, get milk"
Me-" In a while"
Dr- " We are also out of cigs"
Me - " I'll go right now!"( that bugger, he knows exactly how to get me out of the bed)

For the uninitiated, bachelor's have clear segregation of duties based on their skill sets. Since I cannot cook to save my life , Iam in charge of refueling the supplies. Once the milk is there, Dr gets to work. Its time for "N" to chip in with his demand.He shouts from the bed-" Dr, yaar adraak(ginger) dal dena"
Dr-" Crush it and give it to me".
N-" Chal chod yaar, kya karna"

So finally the after much hard work, the first tea of the day is ready. So is it all over, naahhhhhhhhh!. You see our maid comes once in the morning( by her definition, for us its still midnight)and washes all the utensils. Now, chai wala utensil is all dirty after the first tea. So for the second session of tea its quite obvious that none of us are gonna wash it. Hence the second tea of the day is made in large utensil that is generally used to make rice for 4 people. So what about the third session you would ask. Well, we use the Pressure Cooker !!! As they say, Majboori ka Naam Mahatma Gandhi!
Welcome to our World!!!

4 Guys, No Girls and an Irani Cafe

This, ladies and gents, will be an ongoing series on this Blog. Accidents of me and my 3 roommates . Our claim to fame- We have been kicked out of 3 houses till date. I would take the credit for the first 2 times and the third one was the joint effort. The first time we were thrown off was because I set the house on fire( that's what the owner thinks, in my opinion it was just a small accident). All I did was ironed my clothes,accidentally left the switch on and went out .The bed sheet lying on the iron stand caught fire and from that the curtain caught fire and from the curtain the window caught fire. Just at that moment my room mate returned and put off the fire. So effectively the only thing that was damaged was the window. But , well the owner thought that we were highly irresponsible( Hey! it could have happened with anybody) and threw us out.
Then, we moved into a nice plush apartment. All carpeted, fully furnished and all that jazz. The only problem was the water supply was as unpredictable as Delhi's weather. I opened the tap one night and there was no water. Since there was no water flowing, I forget to close the tap, which I still believe is perfectly legitimate excuse. In the morning I heard people shouting and banging on my door, I woke up and moved to get out of my bed, and, well my feet landed in knee deep water. Apparently, the the tap decided to bless us with water at about 4 in the morning. The complete house was flooded and the water had flowed down from our fifth floor apartment to the ground floor. As far as I was concerned it was blessing in disguise, not only did Auntiji carpet had a good wash but the entire building was washed clean. But our owner thought otherwise and once again we were back on road.
Third time lucky was not to be. This time our owner was a South Indian Brahmin and we were able to convince him that we could not stand the sight of meat,that alcohol was the drink of the devil and cigs were out of question since all of us were asthmatic. Initially, we religiously cleared away all the bottles, cig butts and bones immediately. But then as time passed by, he never visited and we stopped caring. But then , one day he decided to pay us a visit on a Monday morning. The status of the house on that particular day- 130 empty beer bottles in the kitchen, 3 empty whiskey bottles(from the weekend) lying in the drawing room, around 5 ash trays overflowing, sweet fragrance of last night's chicken flowing from the trash can. The rest ,as they say, is history,,,,,,,,