Santa's Got Number....

"If there was no God ? where did santa claus come from?". That was my best argument for believing in God.I was amazed by the sheer ignorance and lack of logic plaguing the atheist.
Santa came to my house on the eve of every christmas to deliver my gift, wrapped properly in white cotton which was so soft that sometimes if thought the cotton itself was a more valuable gift.
My mom said that the cotton came from Santa's beard and he had left a part of him with me. Even though my mom seemed very knowledgeable about the rituals santa followed , she did not think very highly of him.
I know this because she would never let me wake late night to catch santa or atleast have a glimpse of his flying sledge. Sleeping late one night in a year to catch a glimpse of santa and flying reindeers was not a tough ask for me, but she was not going to give up. Probably she must have caught him sometime sneaking into our home, she does not appreciate anybody doing that, not even santa. I always wondered how santa came inside my home . Dad used to make sure that the main door was locked properly and all the windows were grilled. Only if i could ask him the secret passage ,I would have used it to go to the playgrounds.

That was 15 years ago. I would never had figured out who the real santa was all by myself. I overheard some kids unravelling the secrets of christmas gift reaching kids. The next few days I tried to figure out how i could prove the poor ignorant kids wrong. But with time the realisation sunk in. I felt bad that my favourite argument will not be of much use now. But it also solved a lot of myteries. I found it hard to believe that my request to santa for a bike was turned down twice , now i knew why. For all the super powers my santa at home had , he surely was not reading my thoughts. Also now i knew why my mom did not think too highly of santa.

I have not become a complete athiest now, but yes having a real santa would have been a great help in making a decision. I still watch all those movies in which they show north pole and santa claus with dwarfs working overtime to make sure the kids get their gifts. I wish it was true. I miss believing in santa, waiting for gifts, quitely watching the night sky in hope of catching a stray reindeer .

One thing I did not miss though was the feeling of being looked out. My santa at home was practically as good as the santa from north pole would have been. He did not have the white wavy beard or wear a red coat or laugh like santa but then he is available all round the year. He also eventually bought me a bike and above all paid my college fees.

But the one thing I like the best about my santa at home is the fact that he carries a cell phone. So everytime I need anything from santa I do not have to pray along with a miilion of other kids in competition to grab his attention. I just have to give him a call and he is there for me always , everytime , all the time. I have my own personal santa and I am very happy with this arrangement.

Tring tring.............."Hi Dad .........can you bring me some chocolates today "

Afterlife and 72 Virgins

Afterlife

All my life, I wanted to once experience how it felt to fly high up in the sky. Well, now I am here gliding in the clouds, only ruse is that I am no longer alive. A few moments ago, my bike's front tire got stuck into a water filled pothole in one of the busy roads of Mumbai. My life on earth ended thanks to the great work by BMC (Bloody MCs).

As I was gliding , involuntarily , the wind carried me towards an office of sorts , an impressive edifice with huge doors . The walls had a heavenly white glow. On the door was written ‘ENTER’, not welcome or anything, just ‘ENTER’. If my MBA friend was around , he would have told these folks how bad such language is for business, but then this particular business is immune to all MBA principles I guess.

I slowly entered through the gate to find a young looking guy, sitting behind the table working diligently on his laptop. Initially I thought he was one of the visitors like me, but his comfort in this place made me think he has belonged here for some time. I gingerly walked towards him and he as on cue looked up and me and smiled, a little forced smile but a smile none the less. He showed me a chair to sit on. I sat and spoke for the first time since death.

Me: Hi, I am....

before I could complete my sentence he spoke still looking into the laptop.

HIM: I know who you are. You are 198212080615.

Me: Am I?

Him : Yes, don’t worry you can now forget about your earthly details ,you have a new identity here.

Me: Ohh...

I did not know if that was a good for me or bad.

Him: You know, I don’t like you much.

Me: (nervously) why is so sir.

Him: You software engineers live your life working on off days and you even die such.

I had absolutely no clue what he was saying. I did work a lot on weekends but I died on a Friday.

Him: It’s an off day here.

Me: You have an off day here? I can come later if you want.

Him: Yea you can, just that your body has already been taken care of by your family. So you have nowhere to go back to.

Me: Really, so soon, I have been dead for only a few minutes.

Him: One min here is a few days of earth time, so you don’t see any service unavailability as far as death is concerned.

That sounded a bad dialogue from a worse gangster movie.

I did not know what to say or do next, it was my first time here. As I was going through possible topics to talk about in my mind , I looked outside a window and saw some huge buildings , magnificent and extremely regal . There were a few others still under construction. I looked back at him, still busy with his laptop.

Me: Ahem.

Now I had his attention.

Me: Are these the places where you put us.

Him: Yes.

Me: You seem to be building quite a few new one out there.

Him: Yes, the Indians seem to have a lot of spare time of late . We even sent a few of our best men to sell contraceptives to them. But they seem to love the natural way.

Me: But aren’t kids God's gift.

Him: They sure are, and Indians seems to be spending all their spare time trying to get one.

Some thing came to his mind and he took his eyes off the screen and towards me.

Him: Where did you say you are from?

I was in a fix now, I had not a clue who he was but I wasn’t ready to be in his bad books. And my death surely relieves me of my patriotism. But ,I wasn't ready to lie , not here at least.

Me: I am from Bombay.

He grinned, a sarcasm filled grin.

Him: What do you think my name is? Thackeray. I know Bombay is in India. And if I was Thackeray, you would have died once again for calling it Bombay and not Mumbai.

Me: I guess dying once again is not logically possible. Is it?

Him: If I was an Indian politician, what makes you think logic concerned me.

He was right, and that brought a smile on my face. I guess I was warming up to him. I had a few questions to ask. I was just waiting for the right moment.

Me: Sir, do you mind me asking you something.

Him: Go ahead.

Me: Which ones of those buildings are heavens and which ones are hell.

Him: All of them, floors 10 and above are heaven, floors below 0 are hell. Floors 0-10 are for people we don’t know what to do with.

Me: Where do I go?

Him: I am still on with your life file. Let’s see.

Me: Do you realise I shouldn't be dead. It wasn’t my time yet. I haven’t seen anything yet. I am still a virgin.

Him: Well, it’s entirely your fault, not mine.

Me: What do mean? You think I should have paid for it like my friend.

Him: No you crack head. I meant that you had were Genghis Khan in your last life. You had your share of fun for 7 lives in one lifetime.

Me: What The Falooda . You mean I will die a virgin for the next 6 lives too.

Him: Actually 6.49 live.

Me: 6.49? What is this? A Bata showroom?

Him: Actually, this was kind of a premature end for you, so you will carry on in the next life.

Me: And how will you do that.

Him: My guess is, you will be born in India and would be something like a 35 year old virgin.

Me: Kill me, please, kill me.

Him: In your own words 'Not logically possible'.

I wanted to scream to 'Logic my behind'. But then he was going to put me on the floor . So I controlled my anger and started looking out of the window. After some time I got bored and wanted to talk again.

Me : So , you know who would be going in to the new buildings ?

Him: No, we decided to build them keeping in mind the toys people like to play with down there nowadays.

Me: Proactive..... Guess there is no democracy or democratic decision making here.

Him: Not yet at least. Gandhi has been busy in hell.

Me: What The Fungus.. Gandhi in hell.. What god forbidden substance do you smoke? Did you lose your brains betting on India beating Zimbabwe?

Him: Easy with your language boy.

Me: Seriously man? Gandhi in hell is like Hitler with Nobel Peace Prize.

Him: I know. Nobody put him there; he has a free pass to go where ever he wishes. He just chose to be in hell trying to improve living conditions there.

Me: ohh.... well I can imagine that. He must really be God's favourite child.

Him: Frankly, He isn’t anymore. Last time he met God, he lectured him on the power of forgiveness and wanted hell shutdown. Since then God has been running away from him. And I mean that literally. That old man can surely work up some pace.

Me: I know he can.

Him: Since then, God has put a board outside his gate saying 'Gyan dena mana hai'.

We shared a good laugh after this. Then suddenly something struck me.

Me: You have been referring to God as Him.

Him: Stop there. I am not answering that question. I don’t want any women's organization shouting my name outside my door.

I couldn’t stop laughing at his predicament.

Me: So even you are afraid of women.

Him: Don’t you guys down there have a saying 'Hell Hath No Fury like A Woman Scorned'. I can confirm that to you.

We laughed heartily while he still continued to peek into my life. After a while I thought I will get to know him.

Me: How old are you? I mean in earth years.

Him: May be a few thousands.

Me: Really? You don’t look so.

Him: Well our anti ageing products out here are much better than what you have down on earth.

Me: Women on earth would be dying to get here.

Him: They do still.

He smiled at his own observation. I was still looking outside the window.

Me: Tell me something sir, what are these people, working as labourers on the new buildings. What were these people on earth?

Him: These guys were special. They spent their life building magnificent places of worship on earth and some similar God's work. So we let them do more God's work here.

Me: So if these guys are here, who is on the top floors of the buildings?

Him: Mostly Atheists and Politicians.

Me: What the Frooty ? Atheists and Politicians?

Him: Well I can’t explain completely why God loves atheists so much but I know why politicians are up there.

Me: Enlighten me.

Him: The politicians are there to be punished.

Me: How?

Him: The politicians spent their lives giving false hopes to people, so we send them to the top floors with the hope of spending the afterlife in heaven. The atheists who have very little faith in God's judgement anyways throw them out of the top window, and they fall straight into hell.

Me: Very interesting.

Him: Come here now. Your calculations have been done.

Me: ohh......

I was nervous now.

Him: You go to the 5th floor, in a room without windows and doors.

Me: What? Why?

Him: All your life you have done everything for yourself, insulating yourself from things around you . If you did not put anyone in misery you also did not help anyone out of misery. So it’s only fair you be put in place where you are isolated from the rest of the world.

I was sad, but it was fair, I was indeed too busy with my own self.

Him: But I have a special thing for you. I will set you up in a room where you have a blast every once in a while.

After a few minutes I was there with 71 other guys in a white washed room with no windows. And true we did have a blast once in a while. Every once in a while there would come a guy with some big weird vest with wires dangling out of it , and on seeing us ,the 72 virgins , will cry out something and boom , will explode into many pieces , which i am told would end up in the lowest floors.

Stand Up

Ronald Reagan once said "Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children's children what it was once like in the United States where men were free. " As we celebrate the 65th year of our freedom i cannot but wonder if our freedom is under threat. My grand old man tells me of a generation who not only talked about their love for their country but also walked the talk . A generation where people looked up to their leaders with hope and faith . A generation where leaders did not only represent the nation , but also drew up a path on which the nation would walk after they have gone . They were far sighted enough not to leave us with a meaningless freedom but they created foundations on which the structures of a free nation would rest easy. And then that generation was gone . My grand old man looks at me and sees a generation whose favourite tiempass is using much colourful language to describe how hopeless our representatives are . A generation which has no leaders but a lot of politicians, less governance and more rulers , a generation which sees corruption as a part of life and political power as a family jewel to be passed from one generation of rulers to the next in his or her family . The great generation of indian history gave us democracy , a system of the people , for the people and by the people . Today , 6 decades later we have a system of corruption and sycophancy , for making money and by people still largely uneducated. Most of my friend look in our neighbourhood and say "As you sow so shall you reap' , but they refuse to acknowledge the fact the it took them only one generation to be where they are . Is this generation of India by its inaction and tolerance to corruption be that generation which sees the nation slowly trudging towards the slippery slope of self destruction. We are already seeing the signs, maoism , violent seperatist movements , violent linguistic and regional movements ,politics in religion and religion in politics , costly and exclusive education system .

A doctor friend of mine told me our nation is inflicted by something similar to what AIDS virus does. The very systems that were supposed to protect us have turned against us . A political system which was supposed to take us forward on modern thought and polity has turn regressive by eery passing year . We now have a party for every cast , sub-caste , religion and region . A police which was supposed to protect us and maintain law has for been found guiltyin innumerable circumstance to have been in cahoots with the guilty . Sometimes commiting crime themselves , otherwise cleaning up the evidences for a paltry sum or just being mute spectators to a burning man who they were supposed to protect . A judiciary which was supposed to be blind to class and caste has become blind to time . Delays in justice now run not in years but in decades . Nitish Katara , priyadarshini mattoo , jessica lal and plenty others have been the victms of the failure of our judiciary . Every structure of our democracy is under attack . As these systems failed our rulers watched in glee . A system run on money and power forms their strength. They are not all corrupt , but there are far too many of corrupt in the systems. As the recent spat of scams showed us ,those corrupt in the system have made themselves indespensible and those not have turned blind to corruption.

A wise man once said, Peace is not absence of war , but result of victory. We are at war with our own systems and this year the war has found a face and a symbol. A battle field has opened up and lines have been drawn. The moment has come , this is may not end the war but this could very well be the waterloo moment .On the 16th of this august a fight for our freedom from corrution and an irresponsive and irresponsible governance will be fought. And non-voilence , as it was then , will again be the weapon of choice . Non violent the method may be, but it would need no less fire in the belly to win this battle . No less courage and determination would be required . No less endurance to pain and no less resistance to mud slinging will be asked for .

An old man on his 74 year old feet ,with a Gandhi topi on his head ,has decided to stand up and fight . He has called up on this generation to join his fight . Will this generation stand up on its young strong legs . Will this generation answer his call or will watch in silence as it always does . Is this generation going back to the coffee table to talk or will it walk the talk this time. I dont know what it will do . I know what I will do . I will spread the word . I will show my support in every which way possible . When our nation celebrates its 100th year of independence I wanna look at the kids , show them the tricolour pinned on my shirt and tell them I have earned it . I will stand up .

Invisibility

A few thoughts put together

All Standard Disclaimer's Apply

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Invisible

A few weeks back I got my annual appraisal letter. No credit for guessing that it did not amuse me one bit. The raise was negligible and the bonus less than last year's. Considering the inflation in this country, I will probably have less money in my pocket this year compares to last year. I was sad and frustrated. What does a hardworking person need to do to get his due.Retail therapy to assuage my monetary worries was a temporary relief ;)

The down payment of a flat ,the EMI for the car and the frequent stops at the gas station broke the calm that retail therapy had achieved over the weekend. I was distraught at my situation and listening to all my colleagues cribbing about their bonuses made it worse , for all I knew they had got much better than the rest of us. As numbers from other firms started trickling in things became almost unbearable. I knew I had to do something about it. I updated my resume and posted it on the job portal. I had to take my mind of the whole appraisal disaster. I decided to pick up some book and start reading. Not being much of a reader I asked a friend to suggest me one.

"A rainbow in the night " is the story of South Africa from the first settlers , through apartheid till it became a rainbow nation. But for me it was a story of individuals , one of them was Helen Lieberman . A white lady and a speech therapist. Her story started one evening when she ended up in a black neighborhood in search of a black infant who was discharged from the hospital where she worked. She feared for the kid's life, because she knew his life would be in danger if he did not get proper care. When she reached the slums or ghetto or settlement or whatever you might want to call it , she was taken aback by the sheer poverty in the area . People lived without proper sanitation, but that was the least of their problems. For people who were not sure if they would get their next meal, sanitation was at the bottom of their priority list . The place,where infant mortality was extremely high , with some dying of disease and the rest out of hunger, can surely be called inhuman if not hell. That one visit was the beginning of many such visits for Helen, who strived to make the place more livable every passing day . After many such visits Helen became Helen mama. She taught them a lot of things and learned a lot her self too. These visits were a window to the part of her country neglected by all. A place, where even though people died of hunger and tuberculosis , the strongest desire was not nutritious food but a school for their children. With the help of neighborhood inhabitants and most notably a strapping young boy names Sam , she was able to build a school for the black kids of the neighborhood. Helen lost many friends because she chose to work with people of a different skin colour , but she still had the strongest support system in her her husband ,to go back to. A happy Helen returned to her husband on the night of the opening of the school , to be informed, by the people of her adopted village, that Sam had been attacked and burned alive inside the school. The white police did nothing but threaten to act against Helen if she did not stop her activities inside the slums.

Helen lived in a country with close to five million other whites. She lived in a country where only a few others like her came forward to help the blacks or kaffirs as the black supremacists liked to call them . Helen , physically was no more a human than the rest of them . She wasn’t born in mysterious circumstances , where heavenly bodies aligned themselves in a certain order , nor was she visited by wise men with gifts on her birth. She was a normal human being.

My grand old man once told me "Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder and so does invisibility". Scientist are looking to uncover the formula for invisibility are looking in the wrong place. The secret to invisibility lies not in any chemical formula, but in the eyes of the onlooker. People learn the art as they grow up , and teach their kids as they grow up . We learn to erase from our view anything that is wrong with us and our surroundings. People say this is what is called turning a blind eye , but I would respectfully disagree. The blind never contest the existence of things that they cannot see , they just use their other senses to verify it . But people learned in the art of invisibility, learn to see right through things. The Nazis saw right through the pains of their Jew victims.The wails and tears of the Jews were invisible to them. The positives of one religion are invisible to the zealots of other religion . The pains of blacks were invisible to the whites in America and south Africa . The tearful eyes of aborigine mothers were invisible to the whites in Australia. For all my MBA friends Selective vision (similar to selective hearing) might ring a bell.

Why go so far back in history , I hear my friends tell me all the time how filthy the Mumbai slums are, and how much of an eye sore the slums of Mumbai are. They see the filth and dirt of the slums , but see right through the human beings who have no choice but to live in slums because in this glorious city of ours parking space is more expensive than their annual family income.

Invisibility is an art we have all learned . After reading Helen's story I had unlearned it for a few days. I felt like the kid in the movie sixth sense , who would see ghosts moving around seeking help. Every time I picked up a news paper or read a book I saw so much of pain that I wished if only i hadn't unlearned the art of making things invisible. I would go to bed with a heavy heart.

I don’t have the heart , the courage or the means to change things around me . I will learn the art of invisibility again just to stay sane. I will go back to cribbing about my promotion , my pay and my EMI . A friend of mine once told me , a sane man chooses his fights . Mine is a much smaller fight. Helen's heart was much bigger than mine, she continued her fight and today she runs the biggest humanitarian organization in South Africa.

Economics of Law

An interesting article by a friend, post my trying to explain him what Options and exotics are......what caused the fall of Lehman Brothers

As an engineer I was supposed to do calculus and develop algorithms in my life. These things somehow made sense to me. Even though I was never the best but I still seemed to be going somewhere with them. But the two things which refused to get into my head were the language of law and the laws of economics. They always seemed so complicated, so alien to me that all my efforts to understand ended up futile. At the end of trying to understand them i would be so tired that I would go back to doing my serverside programming. I have a few aspiring MBAs and a few MBAs as my friends, Whenever I asked them what the hell was wrong with the economics of this world , they would start teaching me futures and equities and commodities and many more such terms . It always would seem as if I was getting near them and then suddenly they would bounce over my head.

My grand old man once told me, if your solution isn’t simple, its not the solution . So I decided to go and find out the simplest way of understanding economics. The basic rule that governs it all. After talking to many MBAs and commerce grads my problem was still unsolved. Then I went to friend of mine, The Gujju, who i was sure would be able to answer me. And he did, in a manner that suggested I had asked him something that was common knowledge. He asked me if I remembered what was taught in the high school economics book, the demand and supply curve .Surprisingly I remembered and remembered it well . He told me whatever jargons the CEOs , CFOs or the MBAs used ,it would always boil down to the demand and supply rule. Wherever there is money, there is demand and supply channeling it around . That was my Buddha moment. Suddenly I started understanding economics. I still did not get the terms but I understood the basic rule. He also gave me another piece of advice , to nod when an MBA talked , that’s the quickest way to shut him up . Any questions and arguments will only extend your trauma.

Having satisfied one part of my ignorant self, I decided to try and satisfy the other using the same principal. I decided to keep it simple. I once read a renowned journalist, he opined, in India we have too many laws but too little justice . I wondered if I could understand India's judicial system using the same rule that I used to understand economics. The demand and the supply rule.

It is not difficult to see how judicial system in India works once you have applied the rule . In India the supply of laws is perennial, every year some new rule is added to the already overflowing reservoir of laws. This abundant supply of laws has made it cheap. Law is bought and sold at every court in this country, sometimes in the name of out of the court settlements and sometimes as bail . Although it must be noted that not all laws are in equal supply. Some are more readily available than the others. Take for instance the traffic laws. They are the cheapest, and are bought and sold at every signal. I sometimes feel they are like the FMCG, the fast moving consumer goods. There are other laws covering petty crimes which fall in this category. The laws covering serious crimes are a little more costly . Murders, rapes, kidnapping are a little costly to buy off , but nonetheless are bought and sold. These laws are not sold in the open market, their availability is restricted to some sophisticated markets . One with money can always find these places with some helpful lawyers eager to show you the way. The most costly of them are the Industrial laws . The laws need consistent investment. The big industrial houses invest generously in the political parties which return the favor once the come to power or reach a position to decide who comes to power. These investments are costly also because the product that the consumer demands has to be custom made as per the customer's demands. The choices of the customer are respected and it is believed that in absence of laws that can be tweaked to help the customer new laws are created to cater to customer's needs.

As far as justice is concerned, in India it is in scarce supply. If the conviction rate can be seen as a variable to the scale of availability of justice, it can be defined as abysmal. If we take into account the amount of time our courts take to deliver the verdict, the supply of justice looks even worse . In such a case justice in this country has become extremely costly and can be considered only as a luxury for the rich . No wonder that many a poor accused in this country spend more time in the jail than their conviction would have warranted had their case been heard. On the other hand the rich move on with their lives often after committing heinous crimes because they were able to buy the bail. Where the poor have to often rely on public prosecutor who is poorly paid, sometimes incompetent and many a times corrupt; the rich come with a battery of foxy lawyers to bid for verdict in the great auction of Indian judiciary .

In a country where food and kerosene are subsidized for the poor, i feel a day has come when the finance and the law ministries will have to subsidize justice too. And also add justice into the basket of items they use to calculate inflation.

Applying the rule of demand and supply may not have helped me understand the language of law , but it has helped me to understand the nature of indian judicial process . I remember an old movie climax where the police officer shouts at our hero, who is holding the villain at gun point "Vijay , kannon ko apne haath me mat lo " . I wondered would I be able to say that to a poor vijay holding a gun at a rich villain . I would be urged to look the other way.

Finally a Solution-Part1

Finally a solution Part 1

CWG,Adarsh ,2 G spectrum ,Karnataka land scam ,Housing loan scam , ISRO scam etc etc and the list goes on .This id not a comprehensive list , not even if we are considering only the last few months. Corruption is seen everywhere around the world, but the most disturbing part of these scams if the fact that the big political public figures involved in these are going to go no where. The politicians will get elected back from their respective seats. According to one estimate if we were to save money from the only the scams listed below , we would be able to distribute thousands of rupees to each and everyone in this country , just like that . So why do the people of this country keep electing the corrupt back to the office , are they so gullible to be swayed by their hollow arguments ,are they such simpletons to be fooled by them all the time , are they naive or just plain stupid.

My grand old man once said to me 'Never in history , and very unlikely in future, is the number of intelligent people more than the others'. In other words the smart have always been in minority. And looking at the current state of India's parliament I have come to agree with him. One of India's greatest principle has become the biggest hindrance, that being universal adult franchise - one vote for every person above 18.

Now that we have found out the issue lets try and resolve it.

The men who formed the constitution of this country were learned and wise men , and they had foreseen this problem. They provided with a mechanism to limit the damage this might cause. When the provided the people of India with the principle of universal suffrage, two kinds were deliberately excluded . One , the convicts and second the mentally unsound . And so we have our solution , we should by all means stop mentally unsound people from choosing just about anybody to the parliament.

According to a study conducted by a very renowned wise person (yours truly) , it has been observed that with the arrival of the new age there has been an advent of new kinds of mental illnesses. For the benefit of the country we will have to help the patients with such illnesses and till then not let their error in judgment hurt the future of the nation.

Let us then see some of the biggest and the most prominent of these illnesses.

IWTBOTV or IB syndrome.

IWTBOTV ( I Want To Be On TV) is a mental condition where in people of various ages have been found to leave their normal peaceful life for the rigors of reality tv shows. At the initials stages the patient is found to be glued to the Idiot box ( hence also called IB ) for hours watching saas, bahu, ro(w)dies , big boss , swayamvar etc etc . The patients symptoms include the following illusions : all reality shows are real and are not scripted , plastic surgery is the biggest trade in India and is available at every nook and corner , people can live for 200 years , people can die and come back , people get really fall in love on tv shows and get married and such others . After years of research yours truly has found out the original source and the mother carrier of the virus causing this disease. This creature has been going around in the celluloid world spreading this disease . The creature goes by the name Rakhi ' look at me ' Sawant . It s believed that the virus is a mutated form of another virus which too was seen very recently on Indian shores . The carrier creature of this virus goes by the name Pam 'look at my ' Anderson .

The origins of the virus is being also traced back to a special bio-technology lab some where in remote Pakistan . According to our secret sources in the county's (un)Intelligent services , this particular virus is a revenge act against India's act of planting Asif ali (Mr 10%) Zardari virus in Pakistan.

The patients in the later stages of this disease are believed to lose and idea of difference between reality and TV , and in such cases important information is impossible to reach their brains. According to our study majority of the patients infected by this virus believed Hillary Clinton was Michelle Obama's mother-in-law.

ASS syndrome

ASS or 'AM Super Start ' syndrome functions in ways mostly seen in the auto immune diseases , in which body's immune system starts attacking the healthy cells thereby creating great damage. In the ASS syndrome the psychologists believe that the person's confidence in himself grows so strong that it starts losing all its other healthy senses . The patients are believed to look normal outwardly , but a closer look gives away the symptoms quite clearly . It is believe to affect both men and women equally . Some men affected by such disease are found confidently walking on the pavements at noon in summer time with leather jacket on them . And others are found sporting goggles at 7 pm inside a restaurant . Some others were seen arguing with waiters and teaching them how to wait on a table .These are but a few symptoms among men, other symptoms could range from believing that they can teach the the current prime minister about governance, teach aamir khan about acting and teach sachin tendulkar about batting. They can also be seen wearing pink jeans and telling you they can carry it off .

Among females the symptoms are similar but the most apparent ones are in those where in the girls or women wear loud make up and bright dresses even on regular days. Such patients are believed to have lost the sense of the phrase 'looking hot' . They have come to belive that inducing pain and burns to the eyes of every onlooker is what it means to look hot . In such cases the people around them are justified in wearing goggles or glares in self preservation.

A very high profile case infected by this syndrome has recently been reported to us . The patient is called Nimnesh Neshmiyan . He is reported to be acting like an ASS for some time now . He is being studied as an extreme case , one who has lost his sense of listening, one who has forgotten the use of throat for singing and use of brains before talking. The worst symptom is the fact that he has started considering himself an actor . He is been blamed of inflicting the cruel pain on people of watching an ASS on the big screen.

People are requested not to laugh or pass comments on such patients as these patients in all honestly have no idea of them being an ASS .

To be Continued....

A peek into the mind

A short story written by my friend( who doesnt want his name to be disclosed)

Mornings and evenings in Mumbai are very social events, we meet people at railways stations or bus stops from every part of the city and they put their arms around you push you and take you places. It is one of those evenings for me today , I am waiting for my bus, bus no 512 at the stop . The better part of waiting was that I had company,a beautiful girl.

We had nothing much to talk but after every few seconds we would look at our respective watches and then turn around to look at each other. It was all of 5 mins of wait before the bus arrived. In a fast paced city like mumbai , doing nothing for five long mins is a cruel waste of time.

The bus was not crowded but we got into bus in a huff even before it had come to a complete halt. Boarding a bus or a train in a hurry is a ritual in the city and has to be followed under all circumstances , no exceptions allowed.

As luck would have it only 2 seats were vacant and that too together. We took the seats, she took the window seat , I had underestimated her agility.

For a moment I thought of extending my hand and saying "Rakesh , naam to suna hi hoga", but better sense prevailed and I desisted from saying anything. I decided to close my eyes and go to sleep , best thing to do in a BEST bus. I closed my eyes, rested my head on the bar extending from the seat and went into my thoughts.

"Kiske saath hoga chamatkar"..."aaj hi hai woh khaas din". The words of the India TV anchor kept coming back to my thoughts. With some useless graphics and a bearded baba they were hell bent on proving that some cosmic changes today are going to cause magical changes in our lives. How all the moons of all the planets formed a formation (they are always in some formation anyways) which would emit special energy and would effect the magenetic balance of the living world on earth. It sounds baseless in itself, but with the added spice of the "breaking news" and "CHAMATKAR" and other such tags jumping on the TV screen, it looked insanely comical.

I felt something on my shoulders , I woke up to see the girl in her sleep had rested her head over my shoulders. Now this is the the kind of dilemma I am not used to . If I wake her up it would seem rude and if I dont it looks as if I was taking advantage . For once I wanted the driver to hit a sudden break or miss a bump or may be just honk loud. But he wanted the best driver award today.By now the bus was crowded , end I thought every one was staring at me and waiting to see how I react. Her head stayed on my shoulders and I did the best thing I could , closed my eyes and pretend to sleep.

"Lucky Bast***"

Who was that , I thought and opened my eyes. I saw a guy , my age , looking at me non-chalantly.I looked around to see if anyone else heard that. But no one was reacting .I looked back to that guy again.

"Why do the biggest of the jerks get the most beautifull of girls?"

It was him. He was saying things without moving his lips. Is this some kind of joke. And why is no one else hearing anything.

"What is he looking at? Is he gonna get down?" That guy again was talking .

Suddenly it hit me . Cosmic magic. I did not know how to react. I thought of getting off from the bus. But then thought of having some fun.I looked back at the guy. Straight into his eyes.

"What is he looking at. With such a beautifull girl next to him why is he looking at me. Shit... he is gay. I knew it the moment I laid my eyes on him."

And he fought his way through the crowd to the other end of the bus. I liked the idea that he thought the girl was my girlfriend , I know it was crazy to think so , but guys are guys.

I was wondering what was next. I did not had to wait much longer.

"Guys are such losers."

Where did that come from? I asked myself.I found her after some seraching in the over crowded bus.She was standing a little distance from where I was sitting.

"They are only after skin deep beauty."

I smiled and wished I could ask her what should I look for... a beautiful kidney or a nice liver.She probably did not hear me . Not sure if the magic was working only on me. But I was the one enjoying it the most.

"How I miss the good old days....."

Now who is that? .I turned my head a little to find a couple standing there. The man shielding the lady from the crowd. He looked at me a couple of times and was thinking ."College days were fun. How I wish I had the guts to tell my parents I do not want to marry.Atleast not then."

The guy's looks were what I called every kids biggest dilemma. He was too young to be called uncle and too old to be bhaiyya.

"I wonder where she is now." I was still hearing his thoughts. He was missing someone,ex-girlfriend may be. He turned to look at his wife and smiled at her. I thought he felt apologetic for thinking about his ex when she was still around . It is tough to be a guy in this world.

"Besharam" some one screamed into my head. I almost reached out to close my ears , but then realised the futility of it and stopped.

I should have expected this. An old man with tilak on his forehead staring down angrily at me.

"The whole generation has lost its respect for our culture and traditions. The western influence will destroy us some day. See the way they are sitting in a public place. No restrain."

Restrain? I thought of reminding him that at my age he was married and father of two. So he can keep the gyan about restrain to himself.

All this feeling about being antaryami brought a smile on my face. As it happens in life that was bad timing. The girl just woke up and saw my smiling face.

"Sicko...... how disgusting are these guys"

Whattttt..... I just did not want to be rude. I wanted so hard for that girl to hear my inner voice. The girl adjusted herself on her side of the seat and

started looking out of the window. The smile from my face was wiped clean.This eventful journey was anyways coming to its end. In another couple of

mins I will get out of this bus . I closed my eyes and decided I want to hear no other thoughts than mine.

I got down from the bus and got to business. "sorry yaar the bus was stuck in traffic" I said.

She was not even looking at me. I wonder why I was not able to hear my girlfriend's thoughts. I wasnt complaining. The mood she was in , she wasn't thinking very well of me anyways. I think the cosmic formations had changed . Good for me.