Shaka laka boom boom !

A little bird told us recently, that the movie ' Shaka laka boom boom' has been based on .........................................hold your breath ..........................................none other than .........................................the oscar winner movie with a great sound track ......................................................................................................................................
AMADEUS !!!!

Now it is poor Amadeus' turn to roll over.

By Design.

We have been declared the Designers of the Year.

It all started this way. The brief said- open office, transparent glass cubicles, soft music etc, the silicon valley techy look. Simple 'nuff, we said. But taking indian Entrepreneur to silicon valley proved to be as difficult as Taking Ramji-bhai to London. We hadn't realized that everyone's hearts belonged so firmly to their Gaon !

The glass cubicles open to sky ( read ceiling ) felt oppressive to some. Some longed for their privacy and were unhappy about glass walls. Some, being more used to the carefree -'Raamu ho! Chaachi ho!!' style of conversation across the office resented the need for the hushed conversations, and communication via intercoms. I mean, why bother to use the intercoms when you could clearly see the office boy right cross the office?

Soon it was apparent to us that various people had various issues with the design. So we decided to make a few changes and create a more congnial atmosphere which, while not exactly silicon valley, will be what any over worked indian Entrepreneur craves. An office and resort rolled in one.

The very first thing we did was to give all the cubicles bright red mangalore tiled roofs. The design pandits may argue that cubicles do not have roofs. But when the heart craves a roof, we find a way to install one. Similarly, opaque films were put on the glass walls, to provide privacy to inmates. A door was added, with a small vent to see who is out side. A small wall fan because the tiled roof now cut off the central a/c. As a good measure we also added a hand fan, for those especially hot summer days. A matka in the corner with cool water. If one craved company, one got up and went over to the village...umm...the office water cooler and passed the time of the day. If you wanted Kulhadwalli chai you can always holler for Raamu bhaiyya, or Durga chaachi.

The atmosphere around the office changed dramatically. People looked relaxed and eager to work, happy to be tucked into their own personal designer huts. The efficiency zoomed up overnight. Water cooler romances flourished, a few even cancelled their planned vacations to far away resorts, saying, "It was much more fun in the office". No one bunked work any more. A few minor squabbles broke out over the issue of decorating the office with Rangoli on festival days, which was sorted out amicably. They opted for rangoli stickers. And last, but not the least, we have been nominated for the prestigious ' Designer of the Year' award for ruralizing the urban corporate design. The style is known as 'Rural-ban' ( to rhyme with Sundar-ban). The fashion designers are picking this trend up and designing a new Village chief look for the CEOs. The ultimate in power dressing.

We look upon this project as something of a path breaker in the corporate design culture. Keeping in mind our stupendous success we are introducing a few new features. First, we plan to abolish the work desks. Working on khatiya with a laptop will add a new dimention to the corporate stratagies. For those who smoke,the office boys will be trained to handle chillums and hukkas.

Mahatma Gandhi said- India lives in its millions of villages. We are helping the cause in our own way.

Ask Baraati - The CKB Advice Column 2

Question: What of your father goes?

Yeh sawaal aaya hai Dilli ke rehne waale us shaqs se jo apni tareef nahin karna chaahtey.

Answer:
The answer to this question is very complex. The question of course is just as complex as Shashi Kapoor asking, "Bhai, sign karte ho ya nahin?" So the answer also must be just about as complex as Amitabh Bacchan saying: "Pehle uss aadmi ki sign le kar aao, jisne..."

To explain this line, I'll have to use the simile technique. Now first, take the popular quote: "Toh main kya naachoon?" Then reverse the purpose of this word. So now with the reversed purpose where you're basically asking the other person whether he should be dancing. Now negate the meaning. So now you're asking him, "Why should you be dancing?" Then you add the assumption that he doesn't want to dance. So now you've proved that you want to make him dance when he doesn't want to dance and then you're asking him why should he be dancing. This contradicts the assumption with which we began the proof that you don't want to dance. Thus we conclude that why the hell should he worry about dancing! So finally, frustrated that even after all this dancing, your friend doesn't understand the meaning of: "What of your father goes?"

So you tell him: "Why do you need to know what of my or your father goes?"
He says: "I don't know."
You: "Do you need to know where he goes?"
He: "No!"
You: "Do you need to know how he goes?"
He: "No!"
You: "Toh phir chootiye, tere baap ka kya jaata hai?!"

Phew!

You owe the baraatis one kimaam paan a day for the next 23 days!

feeding my ancestors...

i thought i had the weight loss plan down quite pat.

morning walk, breakfast, walk to errands, walk towards other ladies who lunch, walk back home and so on, when i stopped in me tracks!

the morning air was thick with terrible cries. the sounds of a thousand wings flapping had turned one patch on the carter road promenade a flurry of black. the harbingers of death, the stars of scary movies like the omen, were swirling in a frenzy.

crows! hundreds of crows were crowding the pathway, flying, sitting on a path meant for joggers and walkers. it was such a scary sight people were using the road in order to avoid being pecked or swooped at...

the refrain from a bhajan 'kaga chun chun khaiyo maans, do naina mat khaiyo, unme piya milan ki aas' popped into my head and i shivered. ugh! what were the carrion crows swooping down to eat?

that is when i spotted a bent old gent in whites in the middle of the flurry. oh no! the birds were attacking the old man! i looked around for help wildly. would no one help the poor man? just then a hawaldar materialised out of no where. aah, a savior! i thought.

"bhaiyya!" i must've have burst his ear drum i thought! "bhaiyya! us aadmi ko kau-ve attackkar rahe hain! halp karo please!"

the man responded more to my scream than logic. he charged through the wings waving his stick, as if he were zorro. a couple more people walking charged at the birds waving their arms. i too joined the save the bent gent drive, begand flapping my arms to shoo the nasty birds away.

soon the angry birds were flying away. the hawaldar was the first to reach the bent gent.

"saab! aap theek toh hain saab?"
"are you all right? have the birds pecked you anywhere?" chorussed the other morning joggers
i am terrified of crows, so was standing stunned by the realisation that i had actually walked through a sea of them!

i noticed that the bent gent was not saying anything. poor man!

someone said, "poor thing, i am sure he is scared!"

another concered person said, "let him sit down! sit down, sir"

my eyes narrowed as i saw his expression. he did not at all look happy for having been rescued from the birds. in fact he was having a tough time controlling his temper. he started waving his arms madly at all of us.

"you meddlesome mad people! what have you done! i was feeding my ancestors! now they will be hungry!" then he let loose a few of the choicest epithets in hindi.

his rescuers were staring at him in varying degrees of surprise. why was he cursing us?

"you idiots! these crows are our ancestors. feeding them is a sure path to heaven! you have ruined it! you fools!"

it sunk in. i had walked through what seemed like a mile of claws and beaks for this! they were his ancestors! what crap! outrage took over.

"they were all your ancestors?"

the bent gent gave me a look that could wither my skin in an instant. but i am made of sterner stuff. and one of the other rescuers giggled. i needed no more encouragement.

"how do you know they were all your ancestors? and what were you feeding them? bread? what are you going to bring them for their lunch?"

"foolish woman! they are everyone's ancestors! you will go straight to hell for saying these things! blasphemy!"

"my ancestors too?"

"yes, yes! yours, mine, everyone's ancestors!"

i couldn't imagine my little loving granny as a crow. i had always imagined her with a harp, sitting on a cloud, singing away. no way had she turned into a ugly cawing bird of nightmares! and she never ate bread! she liked hot phulkas with ghee on them! this man was feedig her hard paav! a gabbar line popped into my head.

"bahut naainsaafi hai!"

i was now outraged too! i stood there, arms akimbo, ready to fight with this horrid man.

not only had he disrupted everyone's peaceful morning walk but now was claiming my little sweet grandma had turned into a crow and she was eating brun paav out of his hands?! no way!

"oi! my ancestors don't like bread! and they never ate handouts! that too from strangers!"

the junta gathered there also agreed. their ancestors did not eat bread either.

"and why are you feeding everyone's ancestors? feed your own! we will take care of ours!"

the bent gent was sputtering at my logic.

"did you get a licence to organise this public feast? moreover, how dare you invite my sweet grandma and then feed her hard bread? she ate chapatis laced with ghee! so these must be your ancestors. and if they are, why are you feeding them here? feed them at your home! i am warning you now, sir, if you try and feed my ancestors with yours and any of my ancestors feel ill after eating the hard bread, i shall send a couple of my tough ancestors to beat up your ancestors..."

the promenade was filled with laughter.

we never saw him again.

that was a few weeks ago. this morning we saw a woman push away a street kid, and feed stray dogs...