Tied and tested

Irony comes handy in our local trains. Recently, a college girl had to get into a general compartment—which she usually doesn't do for obvious reasons—as she was running late for her lectures in Matunga. The train was way too crowded and she found it difficult to find herself a comfortable place to even stand. In the mix of it, she felt something groping her back. Quick to react, she caught hold of the hand and squeezed it so hard that the guy was startled and made his way out at the very next station. She had three more stations to go. And while she was waiting, she couldn't help wonder how can a hand decorated with multiple rakhis could attempt such a disgraceful act.

So long

It's depressing the way comics die. At least the ones who commit suicide. Doesn't make sense at all. Or maybe it does. They make us laugh while they suffer in silence, huh? Unfair enough. Cracking jokes for a living might sound churlish but they throw light on stuff that's often neglected. Messiahs in their own right. With microphones in their hands, they show us the mirror while making sure we are laughing at ourselves. It's sheer genius of comedy. Robin Williams was undoubtedly a leading star in this regard. He just knew how to tickle without being offensive. No mean writer but a splendid thinker and words were happy to be his slaves. So he ended up saying what he had to say on the stage. No wonder improvisation came naturally to him when he acted in films. Some of the memorable dialogues he quoted for the big screen were ad-libbed. And one can't help but feel the urge to hug him the way most of his co-stars did. The warmth emanating from his characters was undeniable. Especially his pedagogy acts in Dead Poets' Society (1989) and Good Will Hunting (1997) leave us tormented. We can't stop feeling sorry for ourselves because we never had a teacher like him. Nobody saw through us or took time off to show us the way he did with those sweater-clad students or young Matt Damon. Maybe because we weren't gifted enough. Regardless, his films continue to stand for unbridled joy and hope. So, in a way, it makes sense to wake up to a day that compels us to be sad for our loss.

Numbered karma

Politics is in the air. Everybody is discussing elections and the politicians like never before. EVERYBODY IS AN EXPERT. [If only that expertise translated into making our country a bit more admirable!] But then—like always—some of the most amusing conversations take place in Mumbai local trains. Something like that happened in a Vashi-bound train recently. Two window-seated gentlemen were having a chat about how the present government’s days are numbered. One of them was loud while the other, comparatively  subdued. Co-commuters didn’t join the open conversation but seemed certainly amused by the talk show. What happened few minutes later was worth an anecdote though. A ticket examiner entered the compartment and found that the high-volumed gentleman was traveling on an expired railway pass.

Fool by chance

The boy was returning home from school and stumbled upon a tenner on the street. Without a second thought, he quickly slipped it into his pocket. He could have very well bought half the town—if not the city itself—with THAT kind of cash. After all, he wasn't used to owning a ten-rupee note. However, he had no idea that his enthrallment was soon going to turn into violent dismay. As misfortune would have it, his mother found his treasure and quickly assumed that he must have stolen it from his dad's wallet. The poor (ironically!) kid couldn't convince her that he indeed got lucky on his way home. Anyway, what's the point in asking him for his side of the story when she's going to beat the bruises out of him whatsoever? So, before he could realize the extent of her misunderstanding, his skin had witnessed weals from the meant-to-beat-horse stick. In her defense, she couldn't come to terms with the assumption that her son could be a potential thief and a liar. Can't blame her. Too much stress and financial troubles leave you doubting everything; even your child's honesty as well as your parenting skills. At the same time, she couldn't find a closure to this 'problem' either. As usual, she turned to God and dragged the teary-eyed kid to the nearby temple. There, she made him drop the money into the hundi. Shiva must have had a hearty laugh at the face he made while following her orders. About an hour ago, that face belonged to the richest guy on the planet.

Mouth on foot

They think you're wise. And then you talk. This has happened to me (and consequently to those who interacted ad interim) over and over again. Anyway, i'll point out six recent instances where my lack of attention and oversmartassness created unwittingly sitcom-ish scenarios.

Dialogue 1: 

Jay: "I don't want any excuses. You have to be at my wedding no matter what."

Me: "Sure, sure. But you'll be there, right?" 

                                                                          ****

Dialogue 2:

Mehv: "That song is from our Coke Studio or yours?" 

Me: "Of course, ours. Pakistani Coke Studio." 

                                                                          ****

Dialogue 3: 

Saket: "Hi. Saket." 

Me: "Naaaa, it's Shakti."

                                                                          ****

Dialogue 4:

Amma: "When are you planning to grow up?"

Me: "Tomorrow."

                                                                          ****

Dialogue 5:

Commuter: "#&)!*%*@#@!!~"

Me: "HAHAHAAHAHAAHAHAHAH..." 

                                                                          ****

Dialogue 6: 

Her: "Are you always this foolish?"

Me: "No. Only when i talk."

                                                                          ****

Skipping from lesson to lesson

A journalist who works for a daily can't really afford a hangover. At least not during weekdays. However, the journo in our story learnt it the hard way. He got hammered the night before he was supposed to meet a top cop for a sensitive scoop. No surprise he barely woke up on time and somehow rushed to the venue. Having made his interviewee wait for about half an hour, the disheveled scribe's body language reeked of apology. Anyway, he put his hand into his bag to take out his dictaphone so as to get started. Much to his horror, instead of a silver-coloured recording device, a black-tinted remote control came out in his grip. A drunk man does a lot of things but replacing one electronic gadget with another was a revelation to him. Mr Journalist couldn't help musing whether it was possible to just click the red power button and get out of the extended nightmare. Desperate, he tried that too. Not happening. Thus, he was about to regret his decision to go drinking the previous night when a towering voice quipped, "I'm glad you didn't bring your TV along with it."

Game, set, mismatch

We are living in undeniably atypical times. 

Shutdown and USA are being used in the same sentence for a change. And so are Sachin and retirement. Ditto for Russia and peacemaker. NaMo and secular. IRCTC and fast. Remake and Zanjeer. Malala and Pakistan. Manchester United and Muslim. Photography and Instagram. Gravity and jaw-dropping (no, wait). Nokia and extinct. Mumbai and Metro. Kim Kardashian and motherhood. Obama and warmongering. Asaram Bapu and molestation. Neymar and overrated. Sanjay Dutt and prison. Ship of Theseus and Bollywood. Nitish Kumar and kingmaker. Money and spiritualism. Yoga and industry. The Good Road and The Lunchbox. Facebook and Unlike. Expressions and Deepika. Harbour Line and delays. Literature and Fifty Shades of Grey. Hugh Jackman and Micromax. Science and God particle. Jeff Daniels and Emmy. Passenger and eargasm. Blackfish and white lies. Fashion and Lady Gaga. Arvind Kejriwal and politics. Superheroes and franchise. Assange and hypocrite. Film festivals and endless queues. Vidya Balan and married. Bigg Boss and entertainment. Justin Bieber and trend. Journalism and paid news. Batman and Ben Affleck. Poetry and passé. Twerking and dictionary. LK Advani and alive. Curable and cancer. Rohit Shetty and cinema. Lifestyle and diseases. Carlsen and Chennai. Dengue and Yash Chopra (as well as Ranveer Singh). Parsis and poor. Iran and understanding. Tourism and Kashmir. Pope and selfie. Gen. VK Singh and moron. Buddhists and murderers. Pharma and loss. Rahul Gandhi and responsibility. Neighbour and MILFs. Lungi and dance. Break and Adele. Heartbreak and Robert Pattinson. A-Jolie and malnourished. Terrorism and Nairobi. Kunal Nayyar and Salman Khan. Arnab Goswami and silent. Mars and mineral water. Saviour and Raghuram Rajan. Steven Soderbergh and last film. Beckham and farewell. SRK and sex determination. Murakami and Nobel. Homosexuals and pre-nups. Maggi and nutrition. Federer and decline. Politicians and common sense. Dr. Amartya Sen and mistaken. Breaking Bad and Way too good. East India Company and Indian owner. Anil Kapoor and ads. Twitter and BFFs. Al Jazeera and unbiased. Lionel Messi and tax evasion. Honey and sing. Lalu Prasad Yadav and prison. Court cases and fast track. Arsenal and top. Gareth Bale and slipped disc. Weird and awesome. Nawazuddin and hero. Johnny Depp and England. Natalie Portman and Paris. Emraan Hashmi and versatile. Willing and wayward. Theatre and profits. Radio and comeback. Truth and facts. Nelson Mandela and dead. John Abraham and breakthrough. China and role model. Vella and you.
Indeed.