Out of Office

I was recently reading a mail on funny out of office messages and it made me wonder what the OOO messages of certain celebrities would be. Take a look .....

Ramalinga Raju – Hi, I am not in office anymore. But the time I was there I had a field day taking the investors, customers & employees on a trip! I will respond to your mail after I am back, that is if you haven’t killed yourself over the falling Satyam share prices.

Anil Ambani – I am out because of some gas problem.. no no its not THAT gas, its the other thing- gasoline. I will reply once I have made a bigger fool of myself in print and on television.

Shahrukh Khan – My name is Khan and for the record, I dislike airports, especially the ones in America. Anyways, I am not in office. In case you have any ideas on how can I get media mileage over trivial issues, I might consider replying your mail.

Jaswant Singh – I am not in office and it’s not my fault. It’s the crappy management- they are just not open to new ideas, whatever happened to secularism. Anyways, for any updates please follow me to my new office in Pakistan.

Dawood Ibrahim – I am on extended business travel and have intermittent access to email. I will reply to your mail once these interpool guys are less active.

Shahid Kapoor – I am forry I am not in office. Bufy with promoting my new movie. In cafe you want more information on my new movie 'Kaminey' , please call my fecratary and fhe will affift you.

Ekta Kapoor- Kyonki I am not in office, and you have a Khwaish to get in touch with me, but its your Karam that I am not there , so requesting you to wait patiently for my reply. I will reply. Kasam Se.

Harbhajan Singh- I am in the field watching some monkeys...No , not the cricket field, I mean the khet in sadda Punjab.And the mail you sent me better be important or else my right hand might just get out of control again.

Raj Thakre - I am out making crazy speeches at a Maharashtra Navnirman Sena meeting . If you are mailing to find out our navnirman plan for the state you are wasting your time, we don't have any . However, if you have any suggetions on how to make Maharashtra ony for Marathis , I will get back to you . If you are not a marathi manoos my goons will get back anyways.

Copyright(c) 2009 Neha Shinde

Classifying a tribe called 'Friends'

Last month we celebrated Friendship Day. When I say ‘we’ I mean the adolescents of our planet earth primarily concerned with hormonal changes and pimple problems, the young adults primarily concerned with career growth and promotions, the adults primarily concerned with tax skirting and property acquisition and of course Archies who made their usual buck by overcharging us for flimsy toys and sugary candies and overtly sentimental cards. ‘We’ does not include the senas of the world and the ‘I-am–beyond-this–foreign baloney’ sons of the soil

So, on this occasion or rather the occasion that has passed this year but shall arrive again next year to empty our shallow pockets, I made a humble attempt at classifying the tribe of friends we encounter in our endeavor to align to the ‘man is a social animal’ theory.

The Adventurer
This is the one to whom all the exciting things happen, be it getting free gift vouchers for participating in a silly survey at a mall or a chance meeting with Lara Dutta at an exclusive pub. The one who goes on short trips to Mexico and treks the Sahyadri in monsoon.

The Adventurer’s life makes yours look like a cactus living in the corner of a teacher’s backyard. The one you want to hang out with but never get to meet, because you always get his answering machine saying’ Hi, I am currently on vacation , leave a message and I’ll get back’ He never gets back !

The Whiner
This is the type whose sole ambition in life is to crib about anything and everything. Tends to finds fault with everything including his wife’s cooking, his cousin’s father-in-laws dogs barking, Angelina Jolie’s lifestyle and Sonia Gandhi’s hairstyle.

Tends to make absurd statements like how the failing monsoons have contributed to the loss of his sister-in-law’s cousin’s hair in Sidney. To be avoided if one is in a good mood or on one’s way to a party or movie.

The Informer
The information hub of everything conceivable. Is affectionately nicknamed named “Wiki’ by grateful recipients of trivia that he generously belts out. So, if you want to know what that nerdy guy in your biology class is doing right now, where you can get the best momos in Bangalore, who is Jennifer Aniston’s latest boyfriend or where can you get the best vacation deal to Goa - ‘wiki’ is the one to go to!

The Inquirer
Born with an insatiable curiosity, the Inquirer will tirelessly ask questions both personal and otherwise without any trace of embarrassment. What’s your salary? Where did you get these earrings? Did you see Sahid’s new movie? Are you seeing anyone? What did you do on Sunday?
Is a modern day adaptation of yesterday’s grandmother minus the wrinkles and the ability to make aam ka aachar.

Would be interesting to see how the Informer reacts to the Inquirer.

The Philosopher
Passes through life with an air of superiority and an open mockery of anything remotely materialistic. Easily identifiable by his long hair and flowing kurtas. Show him your new blackberry and he will look at it with disdain, then at you again with disdain , deeply sigh and make a comment ‘Ah, the price of connectivity! How much profitable to spend a day in the tulip fields and commune with nature ‘. Loves to debate on anything under the sun and tricks you into unwanted debates by asking ‘Define Success’ while you unsuspectingly tell him about the new job you just got.

To be tactfully handled by giving a copy of ‘Corpus Aristotelicum’ kept handy for such occasions

Copyright (C) 2009 Neha Shinde

A whiff of the past

Yesterday, I bought a perfumed deodorant from Nilgiris and its fragrance (citrus and floral) immediately transported me back to my college days in Belgaum when I swore by ‘Oriflame ‘

It’s uncanny, isn’t it? How certain smells bring specific memories and time periods to your mind.

Like every time I pass hawkers selling flowers on the footpath and I get a whiff of jasmine fragrance , I get reminded of my early childhood in Sholapur , where my dad’s sisters used to wear jasmine flowers ( called ‘gajra’ in Marathi) in their hair.

I love the smell of frying onions :) , I think it’s the most appetizing smell in the world! The smell of frying onions reminds me of home..Comfy and cozy home – a place where mom cooks the yummiest dishes , dad dispenses pearls of wisdom over a cup of chai , brother battles with me over the remote ( ya we still do that at our age ! ) and my sister and I exchange notes on fashion . Ah how I miss home!

Similarly, the smell of tea transports me to the time when I was in Pune living with my Grandma. I was working with Aptech as a counselor for about 3 months while I was waiting for my MBA admission. I used the famous tumtum ( six-seat auto to the uninformed ) for transport and on my way back, the auto stand which was next to a chai ki tapiri would get enveloped by a tantalizing smell of tea and frying pakodas and I would long to reach home to have my own cuppa .

The smell of lemons brings memories of my holidays in Sangli where my dad’s sister lived. She had a variety of fruit trees in her backyard including a lemon tree which produced oodles and oodles of lemons. My cousins and I had a gala time picking lemons, making nimbu paani, or just eating it with salt. Invariably, one of us would land up with a sore throat and my aunt would warn us from eating any more of those sour treats. But none of us cared and continued on our lemon eating spree much to her chagrin.

On to some commercial smells, the smell of Rasna reminds me of summers in Ludhiana where I grew up. I can visualize my brother and me on a hot summer afternoon, the fan on at its full capacity, reading Enid Blyton’s Famous Five and sipping on Rasna kala khatta .

Rooafzah again takes me back to a particular time when I had just started working after my MBA. I shared a flat with a few friends and we used to wash down our breakfast with Rooafzah. Not that we particularly enjoyed the taste but I had bought a bottle in a bust of health consciousness and was stuck with it, so my friends chipped in to finish off my misery quickly. Thank God for good friends !

Commercial or non commercial, it’s always wonderful to be transported to a place and time you left behind , Isn’t it?

Copyright(C) 2009 Neha Shinde

An Evening with Osama

Osama (of the Bin Laden variety) was spied on the busy Commercial Street in Bangalore last Saturday. He would have ideally escaped attention given the mask he was sporting like everyone else, thanks to the Swine Flu hype. But when he removed his mask to bite into a juicy kebab, he was invariably recognized. Mahavir Sanvi , the famous talk show host who happened to be there invited him to the studio for a quick chat.

Over to MS...

MS : So Osama thanks for agreeing to be on our show and a special thanks for agreeing not to burn the port wine magnolia bush at the entrance of our studio, it cost us quite a tidy sum, in fact it’s more than what my producer pays me.

OBL: Salaam and sorry I know I got a little carried away. You see, I always get agitated with anything to do with bush. But since I had already completed my daily quota of bush burning, I was inclined to let this one go.

MS: Thanks ever so much for that .Now to our interview, the question on everybody’s mind is what made you go for the twin towers.

OBL: Well, it’s a long story. You see, as a child I travelled a lot by American Airlines. But these foolish people kept goofing up my meals, not allowing me extra baggage, not even my favourite kabuli chanas and then they made this huge fuss about me getting 2 lion cubs with me. It was not that I was being troublesome; I even offered to check them in with the rest of my luggage. But the lady just shrieked and kept screaming ‘twin terror ‘! Much ado about nothing really! I guess that’s how my hatred for anything ‘twin’ and ‘American’ began. The moment I saw those two towers, I knew I would get my revenge.

MS: Osama, you are the most hunted man on earth, how do you mange to hide yourself?

OBL: Well, I have to thank Bollywood for that. You see these Hindi directors are so fixated with featuring Osama in their movies; I always get to act my real self in at least half a dozen movies every year. Of course these guys don’t know they are hiring the real thing. In fact, I am in negotiation with a certain south director to make a movie with me in the lead. That’s one of the reasons I am in Bangalore. Of course, financing will not be a problem as we just got paid for a large ammunition consignment we delivered to a nefarious gang in Pakistan.

MS: But would someone make a movie on Osama?

OBL: If they can make one on Dawood Ibrahim why not me? I personally believe I have accomplished much more than him. My work speaks for myself.

MS: Let’s talk about your future plans. What do you plan to do next?

OBL : A lot really, apart from the movie, I also plan to write a book. In fact all this abducting of journalists that you keep hearing about is just a step in that direction. Since I am too busy to do my own writing, I am outsourcing them to these professionals.

Professionally too, it’s been a while since I did something. The job is not challenging anymore.

But I have some plans and I don’t mind revealing that I have my eye on something starting with ‘R’ in India

MS: (gasping in horror): Oh My god! You don’t mean the Rashtrapati Bhavan, do you ?

OBL: Oh no no ... (Blushing) I meant Rakhi Sawant !

Copyright (C) Neha Shinde 2009

The Jackson Connection

The untimely death of the King of Pop brought varied reactions from various people of various shapes , sizes and colours. While Usher crooned, Paris cried, Brooke eulogized, Debbie squabbled over the kids and the rest of the world jammed Google with their Jackson searches, I had my own interesting experience on this. Something I am not really proud of, but then what the heck!

Here’s an excerpt of the conversation of my discovery of the star’s death:-

June 26th 2009 : Having quit my earlier firm a day before, I am relaxing and trying to unwind before I take up the baton again, when I get an sms from my colleague, Abraham in the morning saying " Jackson died, I am depressed” .I immediately rack my memory for any uncle, brother , friend, nephew ,cousin with a name Jackson that Abraham might have mentioned in our earlier conversations . Failing to recollect any such person, I tentatively dial his number to offer my condolences.

Me: Hey, hi I am really sorry about this.
Abraham: (In a choked voice): Yeah, this is not fair , why him ? So young!
Me: (Still furiously thinking) Yes, I know life is not fair. But it’s said whom the gods love die young
Abraham: (all weepy now) He sure did . I am so miserable..

All this while I am at my wit’s end trying to figure out if this was his favourite cousin ,Jack or his friend ,Jackie , after all both could be a short form for Jackson.

Me: So, aammm were you very close?
Abraham : huh ?
Me: (Now, convinced this is the cousin we are talking about) I mean you were related to him from your father’s side or mother’s side ?
Abraham: What , who me, no ..I am talking about MICHAEL JACKSON you idiot . He died yesterday!

The shade I blushed into would have put a ripe tomato to shame!

Me: (stammering) : Oh, the singer ? He died?
Abraham: (almost screaming) It’s splashed all over the place. Don’t you read the papers? Where do you live ? in a cave?
Me (Indignantly) I am on vacation!
Abraham: ( Hysterical now) You must be the only one on the planet , who doesn’t know...

And He hung up, probably to give a full vent to his grief of having to deal with someone like me and of losing his idol.

Well, * sigh *you live you learn! Here's farewell to a superstar who changed the face of music! Goodbye MJ!

Copyright (C) Neha Shinde 2009

Confessions of an ex sunday school choreo teacher !

It was originally my Pastor’s wife’s idea ......No, not the confession, but the latter part of the subject title.

This was a couple of years ago when I was with a small but Spirit filled church in Pune and she (the pastor’s wife that is), after watching me dance at a church family camp decided that I had the required credentials to teach the Sunday school kids choreography for the upcoming Christmas Program. I, being a novice then, gladly agreed. If I only knew what was coming...... but the Lord being the Wise One that He is, chooses to unfold things in his own way ....

I hate to say it, but I started on the wrong foot (no pun intended !) . After, choreographing a song, I went on to the humongous assignment of selecting the dance participants. Shaving a roaring lion with a rusty razor would have been easier, but finally I zeroed in on a list. Heavens could not have prepared me for what came next. As soon as the list was out , I was ghaeroed by annoyed mothers demanding to know why I had not selected their child. All my pathetic efforts at explaining they were to be put in the drama and the choir and that the dance required only 8 participants fell on deaf ears. Choreo is what they wanted, and choreo is what they will have ! Sigh ! Hell hath no fury like a mommy whose darling is scorned ! Finally we hit upon a brilliant idea of setting up 2 choreos that accommodated everyone’s desire to shake a limb.

With the mommies pacified, I embarked on the task of teaching the choreo steps to the eager and not so eager dancers in the making. The older kids were relatively easy to manage, but the younger ones had me reaching for my panic aids – my bible & my water bottle more than once. Now, I had no idea that a creature that is about 3 feet tall can have the combined energy of a dozen frisky puppies and 6 ponies. Seriously, there ought to be more awareness campaigns on things like these for unsuspecting inexperienced sunday school teachers! They were either running helter-skelter or bickering with one another or doing their own thing without paying the slightest attention to me. One tiny boy in particular used to run across the room flagging his arms like a football player who has scored the winning goal and return back to his original position, which was kind of cute to watch. Pity, he had this urge every 5 minutes. And the rule of co-ordination does not apply to individuals below 7 years. Each one has his predefined timing which he has randomly but firmly established and any attempts to modify this is futile if not highly offensive to that individual.

While, the seniors were moderately tame initially, when it came to the dance costume, everybody had an opinion. And the opinions of 13 & 14 year olds are not to be taken rightly, so I have learnt. After debating and discussing and exploring options from the mundane to the bizarre we finally decided on something that was both manageable as well as attractive. After all “The Look” is supremely important to today’s teenager!

Finally in spite of the million changes and the zillion encumbrances we faced, both the groups were steadily groomed and were eventually ready to perform. And how they performed! My heart swelled with pride and joy as I saw them on stage, dancing for the Lord. It was then I realised, it is such a privilege to be with young minds and to watch them grow spiritually. It’s like being a part of a wonderful transformation process that is much larger than you ever could be.

I have learnt , it’s not just about a choreo, it’s about how you handle these precious people the Lord made you responsible for in a small but significant way and how are you helping them to know Him better.

Yes, during my stint as a choreo teacher , I have been bothered more than once, but when I see a tiny little thing run across the room just to say ‘hellow teacher’ , or when a 13 year old puts her hand around your shoulder and tells you how she has been kind to someone at school, I know I wouldn’t trade this for anything !

And I would like to think that, at the end of a performance, the Lord looks down from heaven smiles and says “Yeah , that was cool . I liked it ! “

Copyright(c) Neha Shinde 2008

Pondicherry Paradise

It was boredom and a life as dull as dish water that propelled the trip. Yep, boredom of a massive kind coupled with work , business travel and the TRAFFIC of Bangalore .

Yes ! I am talking about the Pondicherry trip!!! Bored with meetings and pressurized with deadlines and deliverables, 5 of my friends & I decided to let our hair down at Tamil Nadu’s greatest asset ( ahem after Rajnikanth of course !). Though it’s a union territory, Pondicherry or Puducherry to the locals is very much a part of Tamil Naidu including the language and culture.

So, we decided on a trip to this ‘heaven on earth’ and set out in a Qualis on a Friday night. The idea was to travel in the night, cover ground and be ready for 2 days of sight seeing. What we did not account for was something as natural as sleep. Anyways, after fidgeting for the 100th time for a comfortable position, we along with the dawn finally arrived in Pondicherry.

We were booked in Auroville, and we landed at the Arubindo Ashram assuming that was the place, but after some clarifications, we realized Auroville is not the same as Aurbindo Ashram and off we went hunting for the bed and breakfast place booked . A couple of us were still struggling to open both eyes ,while some were grumpy about an almost sleepless night.

Anyways, all sleepiness & grumpiness soon disappeared when we reached Auro village- the place is so fresh and beautiful ! It’s a few kilometers away from the main city and is a world of its own. The road leading to the village is paved with thick bushes and trees, with a couple of very European bakeries and eating joints thrown in here and there. True to its word , it is a lovely small village – Auroville.

The place where we stayed was beautiful, with brick red walls and lovely pottery all around the place and amazing freshness! The rooms were clean and reasonably priced , and with a lovely green campus sourounding it , it was more that what we could ask for.

One of the places we visited in Pondicherry and one which is worth seeing is the Aurbindo Ashram. Now, I am not too inclined towards spirituality and might just not expound too much on what is it all about. All I know and what I researched on the internet on the ashram is that, it was founded by Sri Aurobindo who was one of the leaders of the early freedom movement who later turned to development of a new spiritual path called ‘internal yoga’. Not that I am a follower of yoga , but the place does has some sort of mystery surrounding it and is enveloped by silence. A whisper would be like a yoodle in that place- such is the silence prevailing there.

There are quite a few articles on display like a sofa set (which I presume was used by Sri Aurobindo) with life sized portraits of Aurbindo and ‘ The Mother ‘ ( who was Shri Aurbindo’s companion) all across the ashram there are a couple of photos of the couple with impressive names like Jawaharlal Nehru and Indira Gandhi too , with the usual fare of books and triklets. A place you might want to visit out of curiosity even if you don’t favour the spiritual aspect of it.

Then there is the Promenade, which is again a long stretch about 1.5 km along the beach which kind of resembles the Marine Drive of Mumbai. To be very honest there is nothing to see there and you may want to go there just to relax in the evening and watch the sunset. There is a huge statue of Mahatma Gandhi, which is hugely photographed, probable because there is nothing else to snap. When we went, there was some interview of a dancer being conducted by one of the star TV network channels which conjured a lot of excitement. Too bad they didn’t seem interested in a bunch of females ogling at everything in sight .

It would be unfair to this blog if I don’t mention about the streets surrounding Promenade, and that’s when I realize how Pondicherry got its punchline ” Very French. Very Pondicherry” Standing there, it is impossible it distinguish India from France. The street you are standing on could easily be one in Allevard .With its large French windows and French signposts and names. It’s almost like being transported to France minus the flight cost . And we had a ball clicking snaps in all sort of dramatic poses , after all what’s France without a little romance and drama huh ?

But it was a museum, the name of which I don’t quite remember near the Promenade that caught my fancy. I must confess, I am total sucker for museums, art galleries, forts, and palaces and stuff like that and I had a field day checking out things there. There was this huge mirror, so ancient looking and I wondered how many generations of royalty must have preened into it before it came to be admired by the hoi polloi.

There was also an ancient carriage at display with lantern stands and space that could accommodate only two people and as I gazed into it, I could almost visualize an English Memsahib being escorted back home after a bridge party or two Sahibs on their way to a place for business. It’s fascinating how these things of art and history can play with your imagination and give you a fleeting glimpse of the world that once was.

Anyways , coming back to the present , one of the favourite destination of generation next is the Paradise Beach at Auroville . It’s a private beach and is only open to the residents of Auroville. Since we were staying at Auoville, we thought we qualified for it and boy did the gang have fun. I am not really a beach person. If you ask me to choose between beaches and mountains, mountains would be a clear winner. But that was one beach where I did have lotsa fun. We snapped away to glory, and the gang had a rollicking time in the sea. I being the hydrophobic that I am, stayed put on the sand and enjoyed seeing the tiny crab like creatures, squirm back into the sand every time the waves washed them away. I did a lot of shell picking too, knowing very well that these shell would be in the trash can the moment I reach Bangalore. But what the heck, I am in Pondicherry !

But what is sad about places like the Paradise Beach is that these beautiful places are taken for granted and there is so much damage done to them that after a while they cease to be what they once were. For example ,a lovely beach like the Paradise beach is so beautiful on one side but go a little further and you will find human faeces, beer cans , plastic bags and all sort of garbage strewed all across . Even the narrow path that leads to the beach is so dirty. It saddens the heart that a place of wonder becomes a trash can for some. I do hope that there is something done about it. Once can’t afford to waste away a place like Paradise Beach.

Anyways , Now that we were in Pondicherry it was obvious that we could not go without souvenirs for our friends and much to our delight , there was a paper mill right on our way back to the village which made and sold hand made paper . And believe it or not , I have never seen so many beautiful things created out of paper. Apart from the hand made and printed sheets of paper, there were beautiful envelopes, small and big boxes to keep jewellery and what not, folders , pen holders, paper bags, and even paper jewellery. Gosh ! I don’t even remember all that was there but it was real fun checking things out.

With our souvenirs in place we were ready for another day of sight seeing during with we covered a few temples and on our way back we visited Mahaballipuram and its famous cave temples. The cutest thing there was this huge round stone which was labelled "Krishna’s butter ball" cute na …Anyways, the place is great to explore with carvings and all . We also visited Kanchipuram, where I indulged myself and bought a Kanchivaram Silk Sari, not that I am into saris but it seemed like a shame to go all the way to Kanchi and not buy a sari.

With that silk sari shopping our weekend getaway came to an end and we headed back for the hustle and bustle of the city of Bangalore, but feeling blessed for the opportunity to take a peek into a beautiful laid back land .