Aunty mat kaho na! (Don’t call me aunty, you moron!)

Years ago, this line was immortalized by a character (Pooja aunty?) in the baap of all sure-to-make-you-go-brain-dead-if-you-aren’t-already serials ‘Hum Paanch’. It might have sounded funny to so many people out there(including moi, although I hated every minute of the torturous serial type thing(yet never missed an episode)), who had absolutely no idea what Pooja aunty underwent every time those she-devils addressed her ‘aunty’. I feel with her today, after all these years. Because recently there have been more than a few times when I almost uttered this dialogue. Well almost.

 But it seems that being called an ‘aunty’ at 24 by those damn younglings isn’t an isolated case limited to only me. On at least 3 different occasions I have witnessed (and secretly laughed a laugh of relief inside) and/or have been informed in hushed tones by my girls of ‘what happened the other day’. Once, my roommate and I were in the elevator, riding down with a neighbour and her cute little toddler. Since my roommate is more than a couple years older than me, I suspect her maternal instincts arose all of a sudden on spotting the chubby cherub and she started all ‘gaga-googoo’ baby talk thing, complete with facial expressions to boot. All went well till we finally ‘landed’ and the baby’s mum (not using the forbidden ‘a’ word on purpose) asked the teeny tot to say bye to AUNTY. Suffice it to say that my roommate doesn’t socialize with babies any more. My logical explanation that technically she was more than 25 years older to the kid and that technically and relatively entitles her to be the kid’s aunty didn’t go down well with her. Oh well. 

Personally, I don’t react to these things anymore, probably because I’ve overcome the trauma. Yeah, my first tryst with the A-title took place more than 10 years ago, when I was barely a teen. I was passing by a house where youngER kids were playing ball and their ball rolled towards me. “Aunty, please pass the ball”- these were the words that haunted me for 10 years till recently when my friends started being openly addressed as the ‘elderly ladies’ in public. In front of me. Call me a sadist, but I really enjoy observing the girls’ expressions after the bomb has been dropped.

 But somehow, it all makes sense. Remember my post about how every damn thing you do is related to your karma? The whole aunty-mystery can be explained easily by this theory. And, it’s all coming back to me now. See, 4 years ago, we friends (yeah, the same girls who are all ‘aunties’ now) went to this garden restaurant for a treat. That fateful day, we addressed all the waiters there as.. wait for it.. ‘uncle’. I kid you not. It was a deliberate prank, we all enjoyed the waiters’ expressions, especially since most of them were hardly 5 years elder to us then. One of them even complained to his colleague in a most painful tone- “usne mujhe uncle bola! (she called me uncle!)” How had we laughed then. Today, the 1 year old babe in my building is having the last laugh. Hardy har har.


A dabeli on the roadside vendor’s place- Rs. 5

Expression on being called aunty by the dabeli seller- Priceless.



The incorrigible braggart

For the past month and a half, I’ve been terribly occupied. Spent the first part tearing my hair out in frustration, dilemma, confusion, and plain anxiety of whether or not I’ll make it to my fave B-schools; midddle part, getting the results, jumping up and down(but not much, due to some ‘weight’y issues) on getting 4 admits; and finally, the last few days, gloating and bragging and literally making life hell for my parents. But I was smart enough to stop my tantrums exactly a half day before they were about to disown me (I’d overheard them discuss how they’d had enough of my being spoilt and how they should secretly throw me outta the house the next day). 

For almost 24 years of my life I’d been this self-confessed modest person who was so modest that even a ‘compliment’ like “wow, you look very human-like today!” would make me turn red with embarrassment. But suddenly, one day when I was done jumping up and down like a fat baby kangaroo, and decided to rest, this some unknown emotion burst forth from an unknown corner inside of me like a volcano, and the brag-o-lava hasn’t stopped flowing since. The power of my eyes changed, and now everyone around me looks to me like a fool. 

Scene 1:

(Mom trying to learn sending e-mails)

Beatnik: Gosh ma.. you’re such a slow coach! To think you’re a future MBAs mom.. learn faster!!

Scene 2:

(Dad reading matrimonial page in the newspaper(for my bro, duh!))

Beatnik: Jeez.. what the heck are you reading dad! Did you read the business news today? 

Scene 3: 

Beatnik (to both parents)- I think I should go for a 2 month foren tour, you know, to free my mind of all the IT codes and IT lingo and IT everything. I need to clear my memory of all the past sanskrits, histories, geographies, engineering and cobol crap that I’ve accumulated over the past years. Then, and only then, I’ll be able to spend the next 2 most important years of my life, racking my brains over the kinds of issues that you guys can’t even think of. So, in short, I need 2 lakh rupees, pronto.

At this precise moment, something hard like a folded newspaper hit my head and before fading out, I saw my mom fuming and foaming at the mouth, standing right above me, waiting to smack me again in case I was still conscious. So much for a being a future MBA.


Arbit news 1: I’m gonna take up this year’s Script Frenzy challenge to make up for last year’s Nano wimping out.

Arbit news 2: I threw a treat for all my girls, friends of more than 6 years, and was almost stood up by them till 4 kindly souls turned up after an hour and half. The bill totalled to 1000/-, a new low for a party of 5 at one of the poshest restaurants in city.

Arbit news 3: I’m so tired of the monotony in my life right now that I’m visiting dentists, asking them to find cavities in my teeth and visiting eye-docs, asking them if they can dilute my retina and do a retina check since I don’t feel so good about my eyes any more. When I got an ‘OK’ from both the departments, I was actually disappointed.

Voila! Mission meme accomplished

This is the first time I’ve taken up a meme. When I read Tia’s post, I thought, why not take up the challenge myself? Memes are the best cure for a writer’s block as well. And then, she assigned me a V.

Quick trivia: Did you know that V is an English alphabet, and that there are words, REAL words, that start with a ‘V’ as well?
The last time I used a V was way back in kindergarten.

Anyhow. Can’t back out now. So well, here are 10 things starting with a V that I love. Or like, as the case maybe. In no particular order-

1) Victory: No, not the Hurman S Baweja dud, silly. The original ‘V’ for Victory I’m talking about. Success, triumph. (Thank God for KG 😀 )

2) Variety: I’ve an ADD. I can’t concentrate on things that get all repetitive and boring for long. (Okay, I don’t HAVE an ADD per se, but I still can’t put up with monotony!)
3)Valiance: What a turn on. And you don’t necessarily have to battle the lion to win my heart, the courage to follow your heart is more than enough.

*4) Voodoo: Nope, doesn’t fall in the ‘I love’ category yet, though I would love to try it out and poke a couple of a-holes with the biggest needles possible.
*5) Vermins? Viruses? V-day? Ugh! These are on my hate list. Focus, woman!
4) VCDs: Movies, music, wedding CDs.. anything. I love VCDs. The free ones obviously. I don’t invest in CDs, duh. But I love to receive them for gifts and stack up my gifted CD rack.

5) Venice: 10 years ago it was right there on the top my ‘dream Honeymoon spots’; the list has been revised and re-revised since then, but Venice is still a dream get-away.

6) Violet: The color, the flowers. See, I’m so not girly!
7) VFX: Seriously, what would the world be without some visual effects!
8) Vocab: I’m a sucker for words. A guy with an extended vocab can have me in his pockets!
9) Van Helsing: No,actually, I meant Hugh Jackman, but unfortunately his name doesn’t begin with a V. Cut me some slack now. I got a V for Chrissake!
10) Vodka: ‘nuff said.

Now, try this challenge out, peeps. Don’t ask me to assign you a letter, though. I’m a sadist, I’ll give you a Z or an X for sure.

Monday Morning Blues

If I remember correctly, this was the title of a small story we read in class 7(or 6 or 8). The protagonist was a kid who hated Mondays. Once, he got some homework to finish over the weekend, but due to his habit of procrastinating, he didn’t do it and realized this only on Sunday night. So then, it struck him to take help of the android his father had built, as the android was very smart. The boy asked his android to finish off his homework and went off to sleep. When he woke up next morning, all smug about his great idea, and checked the homework book, he was left terror-struck. The notebook was filled with random lines and indecipherable figures. He summoned the android and asked for an explanation. The android told him he didn’t know how to write. “So why didn’t you tell me last night itself?”, the boy cried. “Because you didn’t ask me this question.”, was the android’s simple reply. Then the story ends with the boy’s father lecturing him on something. I don’t quite remember the moral, since I hate being lectured.

Of course the above story has nothing to do with what this post is about. I was just wondering generally why Mondays are the most hated days of the week. Why not, say, a Wednesday or a Thursday? I could think of the following few reasons. Feel free to add more.

1) You hate your work to death. Monday is just a bad start for the upcoming dreadful week.
2) You love your work to death. This means that since Monday is already here, soon the dreadful weekend too will be around that’ll make you take a forced break from work.
3) In between. It means every Monday morning when you wake up, you wonder why you’re still in the shitty job that you’re in. You wonder about how long you’ll be stuck in that shithole, whether you’ll ever get a raise and whether you’ll die because of Global Warming or because of your job. All these thoughts will come to you only on Monday morning since after that you’ll return to your zombie mode and stop using your head for the rest of the week.

Possible reasons of why some folks might actually look forward to a Monday morning:

1) You hate your work to death. This means that since Monday is already here, soon the beloved weekend too will be around that’ll make you finally take the much awaited rest.
2) You love your work to death. Monday is just a good start for the upcoming and exciting, work-filled week.
3) In between. It means that every Monday morning when you wake up, you wonder if the cute girl you pinged last Friday will still be interested in chatting with you, whether there’ll be a free company sponsored dinner that night or whether you’re one of the lucky few who’ll escape the 10 hour load shedding during the day. All these thoughts will come to you only on Monday morning since after that you’ll return to your zombie mode and stop using your head for the rest of the week.

Lemme just say I share a love-hate relationship with MMs.

If pictures could kill..

… I’d be dead a 1000 times over by now, courtesy my friends’ photos on FB. I have no idea how someone with a sane mind can not only think of clicking such vague and crappy pictures, but also to add insult to (my) injury, give totally unimaginative and downright drab captions to the same. In one word, these pictures are sheer ‘torture’.

Take for example, a hypothetical situation where an acquaintance of mine has returned from his first foreign vacation. Understandably, he’s ecstatic and wants to proclaim it to the world that ‘Hey! I’ve been abroad too!’. Fine with me. I’m not jealous, I’m going for a ‘foreign trip’ myself soon. And I too will be shouting about it from the rooftops once I return. But at least I’ll spare you guys the agony of having to go through my 60 odd photos, which are either blurred, have the same person posing in the same way and shot from the same angle thrice, or simply provide the information that I was standing under a tree.

Seriously, tell me what’s the point in going to that world famous Bird Park in um.. Hong Kong(?) and NOT taking pictures of the rare birds, and instead, in posing yourself in front of some fountain that has ‘Bird Park’ written somewhere? Pose with the birds you fool, not with the fountain! Did you go all the way to the Bird Park in Hong Kong to get the shot of your ugly mug in front of a fountain? Or, how about a shot that has one dude standing on some road (a real famous one I reckon), hands on hips, in the middle of an ocean of people, with no information whatsoever about where exactly he’s standing. If it were not for the white faces in the crowd, one couldn’t be sure if he took it on some busy junction in his hometown. God.

When you’re visiting these awesome places with beautiful skylines, you obviously give taking their pictures a miss, ‘cause well, you were busy taking pictures of you while sitting in the lounge of the international airport, right? If you’re so obsessed with having your close-up shot in every single of the 1000 photos you’ve clicked on your trip, at least try and make the backgrounds interesting.

Anyway, let’s talk about captions now. How does this sound- ‘Me drinking vodka’, under a silly pic of you drinking from a glass at some random hotel room? Or, ‘X and me’, ‘Y and me’, ‘Z and me’, in a row in the same album, while you’re posing with three different friends sitting at the same spot? Or ‘Friends and I posing on the highway’- under a photo that has, well, you and your friends posing on a highway for some goddamn unknown reason?

Kill me.

This outcast doesn’t care anymore!

Never underestimate the peeping-power of your male friends. They might not be as peep-y as their female counterparts, but they’re definitely more harmful. Like just yesterday, I had this friend of mine come over for a while. Thinking he probably wouldn’t notice my sad looking laptop, didn’t bother to hide it ‘properly’. I was sure he wouldn’t take a peek. He didn’t peep, he just took a good hard look.

I was in the kitchen(filling in my water bottle, not cooking! Duh.), when I thought I heard the very sound I was dreading all this while- the sound of keystrokes. Sure as hell F was doing something on my comp and before I could stop him from invading my privacy further, he looked up at me. It was a strange expression, like he was shocked.

“Hmm. So this is what you were hiding your lappy for,eh?”
“Hiding? It was right under the pile of clothes yonder. Why would I hide it anyway?” I refused to cave.
“No? Okay, but now I know what you watched last Sunday!”, he said, smirking.

My legs became jelly. He might be my friend and all, but aside of inheriting the very dreaded feminine characteristic- peeking, he had also mastered the art of gossiping. I had no idea what would be the reaction of my male friends if they got to know of it. The girls all already knew.

“Out of all the things available on the net, Beatnik, why would you ever access OneManga?! I mean, how could you read MANGA! After all that we taught you after making an exception for you in our exclusive ‘boys-only’ club, is this what you do to us? Read Manga? Whatever happened to the sanctity of the anime!”

It was like a slap in the face. Yes, they had taken me under their wing, introduced me to the world of anime and even filled in my disk drives with unending Naruto, Bleach and FMA episodes. They just had one condition- do not ever read the manga. Although they’d maintained that the reason behind it was the very benefit of us all, that this would ensure that the pleasure of watching the fresh episodes everytime wouldn’t be adulterated in any darn way. But I knew deep down my heart that they had an ulterior motive of making sure that I never got ahead in the series than them, that I didn’t know how Itachi was not a bad guy after all before they found out, that I always begged them for more episodes and writhed and cried and begged until they obliged. That I was always on their mercy. Not any more though. Sure I wasn’t as resourceful as them, and was perpetually challenged by the poor internet connection that never allowed me to download any videos from anywhere, but I had finally found a way out. The way of the Manga. So what if there is no inspiring background music, no over-the-top dubbing, no colors, no live animation? Manga at my disposal gave me something to look forward to everyday. Whenever I would be troubled with self-doubt, I’d simply treat myself to the boy-who-never-gave-up tale of Naruto. Or like when I had a whole week’s wait ahead of me for the next chapter of Naruto, I’d hop on to Bleach, or maybe FMA. The Manga gave me a new lease of life, a life that was finally free of begging and living off the mercy of my so-called friends. It helped me while away countless hours everyday in a more ‘productive’ way.

I may be a ‘elite anime group’ pariah now, but I feel liberated, I feel empowered. I love you OneManga.