Pappu and the Cop

So I was taking big strides down Marine Drive, enjoying the lovely moisture laden cool breeze that enveloped me during my routine evening walk. I love this part of the day -- it helps me clear my head and plan work for the next day and at the same time works out to be a super exercise regime.

It's also that part of the day when I listen to some great music, sing aloud without any care and return home satisfied that I gave myself some time alone. Wednesday evening was no different. Much of the day was spent at work editing stories, planning stories and well, scrapping stories. Through all this, I listened to Led Zeppelin's Physical Graffiti on loop. In fact I even pasted on Facebook some random lyrics of one of my favourite songs from the album, Trampled Underfoot. Enough digressing.

Surely enough, I picked this album to accompany me on my evening walk. As I paced "down by the seaside", I noticed there were hardly any cars in the northbound direction. No cars at peakhour, in the direction of the traffic? So strange, I thought. Then I noticed a barrage of policemen scattered across the promenade. Ahh, a VVIP is driving by, I concluded and continued clocking my steps as I did a Robert Plant. 

Just as I prided myself for holding a note a la Plant and effortlessly singing "Sure as the dust that floats high in June; When movin' through Kashmir", a constable gruffly brought me to a halt. "What happened?" I asked him.

"What are you doing?" he demanded. It seemed like one of those times when the question seems so redundant. Like my mom knocking on the loo door and asking "What are you doing?" Umm... what do you think?   

I tried not to sound smug and I said,"Listening to music while on my routine walk." 

"What's that you're listening to?" he asked impatiently. "An English song. Do you want to listen to it?" I enquired earnestly. He put on my headphones and listened to Robert Plant croon. Just then he saw my recently lit iPod screen flashing Kashmir by Led Zeppelin. 

"Yeh Kashmir kya hai?" Just then it struck me. Trust me to sing aloud Kashmir in a high security area and distract a poor constable on duty. Incidentally the word Kashmir is mentioned just once in the entire song. How he caught it, God alone knows. 

In my halting Marathi I told him that its a famous song by a famous band and quickly offered to make him listen to any other song, so he knows I wasn't on any mission. I scrolled to the letter A on my iPod, chose A.R. Rahman and played him a chartbuster that makes me cringe -- Pappu Can't Dance Saala. He had this priceless expression; it seemed like he couldn't decide whether to laugh or to be annoyed. I'm pathetic with small talk. As I took my headphones back, I told him its a famous song and my nieces love it. Don't ask me why I gave him that fabulous piece of trivia. I'll never forget the look on his face. I'm sure he looked at me and wondered if I was some sort of moron.

And as I walked back home, I saw the President's cavalcade whiz past me.

Snapping at the Snappers

Photographers love to capture a moment, freeze a scene from nature and reproduce the beauty they've witnessed.  Some get paid for doing mediocre work while some produce masterpieces for free. Either way, they're a reminder of the moment you've just missed or the moment you absolutely do not want to forget (and often the moment you desperately want to forget).

A lot of them are also intrusive, annoying and distract you from the moment you're about to experience. Unless you're a star with tantrums, it's quite hard to get the lens off your face. People like me often end up scowling in photos because they would've been taken at exactly that moment when I said, "I don't like to be photographed".

Here are five circumstances involving photographers that irk me immensely.


1. The Wedding Photographer (for brides and grooms):

Unless you really like being photographed in no matter what you wear,  dealing with the wedding photographer can be quite a painstaking. "Put your right hand across his chest and tilt your head towards his"; "Look into his eyes and hold his hands"; "Feed him some kulfi" -- staging romance for a photograph is plain preposterous.
Despite the happiness in your heart, you are also tired of shaking hands of people who now resemble one big blur, being on your feet while manoeuvring through layers of cloth (read sari) and enthusiastic people. You're craving that one drink or the comfort of your bed, you can feel the corns growing on your feet and want to just dip them into some hot water; but the photographer wants you to enact your feelings.


2. The Wedding Photographer (for guests):

What could be more embarrassing than being photographed just as you bite into a pani puri?  Being photographed with 4 dahi vadas in your plate. Some weddings have phenomenal food but you don't necessarily want to be the testimony to that. I've lost track of the number of times photos of me with spinach stuck to my buck teeth or with onions wedged in my molars have made it to photo albums. And you still wonder why I treat photographers with such disdain?

3. The Press Photographer (lacking in talent):

The mundane ones can take nothing more than the best-of-four photos. All photographs will have two people in action (shaking hands, giving awards, clinking glasses) and two hangers-on.  On an average, the non-award-winning press photographers are the ones who stick to this formula, irrespective of the occasion.
Some of them copy the award-winning ones and end up sticking to that formula instead. Don't understand? Pick up three newspapers the morning after some riot breaks out in the city. There is a 90% chance that all three of them will have one picture of a lone slipper in focus and the people in the background out of focus. This is meant to be the symbolic slipper that started the riot. There will also be a photograph shot through a hole in the window of a bus/car. That hole is either caused by a bullet or the stone some hooligan threw. The lack of originality is shocking, especially since there are so many lensmen around the world working for the press, who come up with deliciously interesting pictures. So far I haven't seen a slipper being focused on through the hole in a window. Thank God.

4. Won't-leave-them-alone Photographers:

So a love-struck couple decided to spend a beautiful evening by the sea and the next thing they know, they're splashed on the front page of a newspaper. "Offbeat" pictures make for great page 1 offsetters, but can also spark a domestic argument if the couple's parents don't consent, no? Of course it's an unending debate between photographers spotting eye-catching beauty and campaigners of privacy like me.   

5. The Passport Photo:

First of all he wants you to move your head in all directions, dab some powder on your face, shove cotton balls behind your ears to make them more prominent and flash just a hint of a smile. Yet you look stupid, every single time. The consistency with which despite all his instructions you look stupid, is astonishing.

It's All In The Name

When William Shakespeare wrote his "What's In A Name?" spiel, I don't think he had any idea how far from the truth that quote really was. Most people's names last them a lifetime -- a name change, sex change notwithstanding. What your parents name you, usually stays with you for a long long time, unless your new name (like Sting, Prince, Bono, Marilyn Monroe) catapults you to superstardom.

But what about the mere mortals who begrudgingly live their lives with a name they hesitate to announce? At work once, I was in the midst of releasing a whole lot of pages and screaming about deadlines when I got a call on the intercom. The caller told me he was waiting at the reception and had come to meet me on a common friend's recommendation. I muttered something to myself in irritation and went to meet him. A tall guy with charming dimples stretched out his hand to greet me. Nothing prepared me for what happened next. He said, "Hi, I'm Humpesh."

"Is this really happening?" I thought to myself, trying ever so hard not to make any eye contact. Just to make sure (and for an additional dose of cheap thrills, of course) I said: "Hi I'm Lakshmi... I'm sorry I didn't get your name."

He smiled, "Humpesh." What happened after that is one big blur. I deserve an Oscar for not laughing in his face, especially when he said, "I know I came at the wrong time... I must be such a pain in the ass." I really didn't laugh aloud, just went with the flow and said, "My pleasure."

I've encountered many such people whose parents evidently hated them and chose to mar them for their lives with such names. Yes the common ones like Rakshit, Hardik and Hardeep seem to be friends with a lot of people I know. Surnames like Brar and Chothia always evoke a snigger. There's another one I'm surprised to know is quite a common surname in India and a name in Europe: Lund. Just the thought that there's an entire family of Lund somewhere seems quite hard to swallow.

 

Over the years you master that gentle smile when you talk to these people; the smile that hides a tsunami of laughter. In most cases you succeed. A girl in my school was called Conception D'Souza. We never quite understood why her parents stated the obvious. But as kids it was hilarious when the teacher would call her, "Miss Conception."

As you grow older, you realise that names are a cultural thing. A swear word in one language is a compliment in another. I felt the same way at one stage, when I was trying to grow up rapidly. I know you get wise with age, but you also appreciate double entendres better. A hostel mate in Bangalore introduced herself as Choden. Choden means the devout or religious one in Tibet. For all my "getting wise" phase, I don't ever recall making eye contact with her subsequently when she said, "God, I'm so screwed."

Times they are a-changin'

You know times have changed when:

* There is an entire generation that hasn't heard of GoldSpot

* Mr Bean is just a cartoon on PoGo

* VH1 puts Westlife in their Classic section

* Che Guevara has progressed from T-shirts to coasters
 
 * You don't send e-cards anymore, you send champagne flutes and teddy bears on Facebook

* Google is a verb

* A mom knows what her child ate from his/her Tweet

* Emails ids are replaced by BB Pins

* Phantom cigarettes and Pickwick biscuits are no more than pages on Facebook

* You pick up a non-touchscreen phone and end up touching its screen to run a program

* You're back to listening to English music on radio in Bombay only on All-India Radio

* Wednesdays are the new Fridays which were the new Saturdays

* You can "poke" people even without touching them

* The last few times you used a pen were to sign bills

* For parents, same religion is no longer a marriage criteria, different gender is

* Tom Hanks is that Robert Langdon guy from Da Vinci Code while Bond is Daniel Craig

* People discover classic rock bands through Guitar Hero

* Moms know how to use Skype but still type www.hotmail.com in the Google search box

* You're surprised people still have rediffmail ids

* You check the time on your phone and not your wristwatch

* Ordering American Chopsuey is not so cool anymore

Women on top

A woman is a woman's worst enemy, I've heard. At the risk of annoying my species, I think it holds true and is in fact a good thing, especially if practised at the workplace. Here are four reasons why girl on girl (haha) increases productivity:

1. Women bosses are less likely to squirm when other women employees cry. Women cry all too easily and nobody better than another woman knows that. Men, worried as hell over sexual harassment at the workplace allegations, generally prefer to back off when a woman employee starts to bawl. But women, obviously privy to the functioning of the eye faucet, do not flinch. Well at least in most cases. Try crying after your boss yells at you over skipping a deadline or losing a stapler. A male boss would just throw his hands up and then sulk. A woman on the contrary will hand you tissue while STILL yelling at you.

2. I know too many male bosses who don't know how to deal with the "it's that time of the month" excuse. I also know too many female employees who use that excuse to slip out of work early. While there's no denying it can be awkward, having a female boss means keeping tabs on how often that excuse is used. Nobody has peddled MeftalSpas as much as female bosses have. Swallow the pill and get back to work.

3. A woman's natural instinct is God-gifted. Obviously a female boss can sense when an intra-office affair is in the offing. So what does she promptly do? (Especially if she isn't one of the involved parties) She thwarts it at every available opportunity. How is that even a good thing? Firstly, it cuts out gossip time. Secondly, the others won't witness temper tantrums or bear the burden of extra work thanks to some lovers spat.
 

4. A dominating woman (read boss) has the natural ability to bring another person's ego crashing to the ground. When you're devoid of ego, you start to take less offence to what's being said. In the process, women discover that they can have a sense of humour too and will in turn not sulk about every joke on female drivers. This new-found sense of humour makes you less angry with the world. Voila! You're a lot happier than you thought.