Miscellaneous events from trip(s) to Kanpur

Hullo!

I spent the better part of March 25, 2009 running around in Kanpur city to lodge an FIR for my missing mobile, finding the right Airtel Office for deactivating and reissuing SIM and buying an economical new Mobile Phone. Below are some incidents from the day along with a few others from other trips to the city:

1. ‘Pahiya Ghoom Raha hia‘

Me and my friend Ashish set out to go to Kanpur city. We were supposed to get a photo of me, lodge an FIR, take a copy and give it to Airtel Guys and get a new SIM with my old number from them. On our way from Hall 8 to IIT Gate we pulled off that long forgotten road trick: Pahiya Ghoom Raha Hia.

So unsuspecting obnoxiously young (we are both in fifth year…so there) IITians passing on cycles became targets.

Me (pointing a finger at the tyre): Arey Parul. Parul, Pahiya Ghoom Raha hia!!!
Parul (unsuspecting second year girl): Kya? Kaha? Kya hua? (looks at the bicycle tyre in a concerned way)
Me and Ashish: Bwahahahahahaha
Parul (realizing what just happened): Kya bakwaas hia.

And then the cycle-rickshawallahs too:

Me (pointing a finger at the tyre): Bhaiya!!! Pahiya ghoom raha hai!

‘Bhaiya’ stopped, turned the rickshaw and came to us. The look on his face made my face perspire a bit more on that hot March afternoon. On the other hand it was good that we finally found a rickshaw.

Bhaiya: Ka babu! Ab hami ko moorakh bana doge kya?
Me (relieved after seeing the smile on his face): Ehhh…aise hi mazaak kar raha tha.
Bhaiya: Ee dillagi hum bhi bahut karat rahe bachpan me. Aur aap mil gaye pachpan me. Kaha chaloge?
Ashish: Gate.
Bhaiya: Chalo.

And off we went. You can fool some people all the time, you can fool all the people some of the time, you can’t fool all the people all the time. Or can you?

2. Police Thana

Prathmiki

We went to Kalyanpur Police Station. The police station is housed in a dilapidated old building, the ones you see in Ramsey Brothers’ movies – those spooky houses with creaky doors. The Police Station is stationed thus: There is the Grand Trunk Road; parallel to the road runs a railway track. The police station is beyond the railway track. So probably the idea is that anyone with trouble would probably be run over by any of the Laloo’s trains before they can trouble the Police guys.

Even if you cross the railway track safely, there is a open sewer line placed like a moat around a castle. The ‘bridge’ connecting the land to the police station, bridging the moat, is creaky, old and wooden. So you might drop dead in it before registering a complaint.

We went in and asked where to file the FIR. We were guided in. The office was filled with registers, old wooden furniture, more registers, a hawaldar and two police officers.

Me: Namaste.
Officer Vijay Kumar (VK): Namaskar.
Me: Sir, mera mobile kho gaya hai usi ke liye FIR darz karwani thi.
VK: IIT ke ho kya?
Me (amazed): Sir aapko kaise…
VK: Yaar tum log apne mobile shaam ko hamare yaha chhod jaya karo. Cheeze le lete ho aur sambhal paate nahi. Mobile ki aadhi FIR IIT se aati hai.  (Please note that he was candid while saying this).
Me: Sir, sahi kah rahe hai aap. Itne mobile ghum ho jaaate hai. Aap log FIR ka ek special form bana dijiye IIT ke liye.

He looks at me and I know what he is thinking: Another smart alec.

Me: Mazzak kar raha tha Sir.
VK: Koi baat nahi. Aap FIR likh do. Make two copeej.
Me: Kisko likhoo application.
Other COP: Seva Mein, Thana Prabhari, Kalyanpur…
Me: Sir barahvi maine hindi se hi ki thi. (VK is smiling at the Other Cop who is making faces)
VK: Likh ke laa do aap. Me darz kar loonga

I went outside with Ashish and started writing the FIR or should I say Prathmiki. It was a strange feeling. I was writing hindi formally after five years. Even when I was editor of the college magazine, I wrote all hindi stuff on computer using Shusha. A photo pf the FIR is here in the post. Never mind the handwriting. Poor! But it was a good feeling. I really felt good after writing in Hindi. And then I thought, I left Hindi, couldn’t master English and are now hung in between.

Anyway, I went in and gave the application’s original copy to VK. An aged person was standing with the same case: Mobile lost.

VK: IIT ke hai dada aap?
Dada: IT, IT, IT. Poore Kanpur ko IT me padaoge kya. Kalyanpur ke hai. ‘Aphh Aayi Aar‘ karni hai.

VK gave my FIR a sneak peek and handed it over to Dada.

VK: Aise likh dijiye

So obviously, my FIR was a benchmark. Dada looked at it and then went outside to write his own. The carbon paper I used was taken by VK and put in his cupboard. Mind you, I bought this carbon paper at 1.5 bucks each from Shop C at IIT Kanpur. VK took out a seal, stamped the carbon copy, signed it and we were done.

Me: Thank You Sir.

As we moved out Ashish whispered: Bahut jaldi ho gaya. Vishvas nahi ho raha.

You have to understand, before we went to the police station we went to see the cinemas for about 17 years most of which portray the cops as those sweaty shirt, bribe hungry, chai sipping monsters with dandas and Stone Age rifles. Plus, just before the station happened, we went to get me clicked at a photography studio (photo required for issuing new SIM). The wise old lady of the Studio (who by the way works at Media Lab IIT Kanpur and is an expert at getting people new SIM with old numbers when they lose their mobile) told us:

WOL: Beta, 50 rupaye to le hi lega. Affidavit ke 100 upar se. Par IT ke ho. Pachaas se zyyada mat dena.

So you see, this was the impression we had. meanwhile VK heard Ashish’s whispering.

VK: Kya hua Sirji?

And then we did something we thought we owed to the guy.

Ashish: Sir, itna jaldi process ho gaya ki vishwas nahi hua. Hume lag raha tha ki bahut time lagega aur…aur…dikkat hogi.

VK simply smiled.

Me and Ashish: Thank You.

I know, many police officers might be corrupt. And many of them might deserve the beating that media and others give them. But it is hard to be stuck in a dilapidated office for the entire life  while trying to while away flies as you enter yet another lost mobile FIR in the register on a March afternoon with no fan over your head.  It can be thankless. And hence we thought that we owed it to him. We thought that he made our day. We had walked in at 3:15 thinking that it will take till 4:30 by which time Airtel Office will be crowded and we will have to wait till next week. We thought that since he saved the day, we should tell him and make his day. May be it was because we were from ‘IT’ and so he was nice, but I don’t care. He processed the entire thing quickly without undue demands. I think amidst all those corrupt ones portrayed taking beatings from Sunny Deol and the likes, there certainly are better cops, if only for a simple case of lost mobile. To them…

3. Batao Na!

As I and Ashish exited Rave@Moti after buying a brand new NOKIA mobile (the one in the lower range which does what a mobile should do: make calls, receive ‘em and send messages), we saw a Nagar Seva (City Bus) standing right in front of the Mall while its Conductor shouted to get more people to board the bus. At the back of the Bus they had written: Batao Na (Do tell!). Now me and Ashish go ahead:

Conductor: Bada Chouraha, Parade, Tumhaare ghar ka Gate…aa jao bhai aa jao. Bada Chauraha, Parade…(sees us) Bhaiya Kaha jaoge?
Me: Nahi bataunga.
Conductor: Arey…kaha jaoge.
Me (looking back at him): Nahi bataunga.

It took him a second or so to relate. He smiled and so did we. A few minutes later we were on the Grand Trunk road looking for a Tempo when we saw the Bus drive by very slowly and saw the conductor again…

Conductor: Ab to bata do sirji… (and he smiled)

We looked at him and could only smile. Simple things bring these small moments of joy so that even when you are bogged down and defeated in life (with lost mobiles, bad interviews and Kanpur rush  or the concern to earn a good day’s meal by shouting self made rhymes to attract more people), you smile. You smile and feel that thing: Hey what do you know! I can be happy!

Saint of Lost Causes – 1

“There is always the speech.”
“The speech? Seriosuly? A speech.”
“Yes. It’s your inauguration speech. It is customary for all new entrants to make a speech. A sort of entry acceptance.”
“You do know I am mortally afraid of making speeches, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t use the word mortally.”
“Let’s talk reality and not semantics.”
“You will have to make a speech and that’s a reality.”

And she went away, just like she had come: out of no where. Although I was still not sure. Why a speech? You just move on and go in. Not that you have a choice but what’s it about speech? I thought it was some kind of a joke because it was known that I was really afraid of public speaking. I couldn’t even say a nervous ‘Hi’ to a crowd of ten or more from a high rise platform via a mic let alone address countless people from the dais. But the finality in her tone made it clear to me: I will have to give a speech if I wanted to get in. Otherwise they would leave me hanging for God knows how much time. So I embarked upon a journey down my experiences, memories and thoughts to get some material for the act. On normal occassions I could have googled a good speech but this was not a normal occasion. It was special, besides, I had a feeling that even Google did not index pages with the speeches for occassions like this one.

Why you should not let your sisters dress you up?

Hmm…

I am posting a lot of ‘Why you should not‘ stuff these days. But you know, this post is really worth it. Have a look and promise me you won’t allow your sisters to dabble with your wardrobe. Absolute horror. On the other hand, I do look like Satish Shah from Jaane bhi do yaaro.

Onion.

Further justification!

Never let you sisters dress you up.

Why you should (not) empty the bottle before going in the theater?

Delhi 6 is a good movie. I saw it on Friday and liked it. The whole Kala Bandar thing held the movie together. Anyway this post is not about Delhi 6 but about something which happened before we entered the theater.

We went to Rave@Moti to watch the 3:15 pm show. We were at Rave by 2:30 pm, four of us: Me, Maami, Muski and Marda (alliteration intended). Since there was time we ordered Pizza and took a table while checking out the girls. As it would happen, Ms. Shradhha at the Dominoes stall could not deliver the pizza timely so we just took the two coke bottles and asked her to shift the order till after the movie. By this time our chaat from Bombay Shivsagar Chaat Shop was in and so was my soup from the Chinese Food shop. By the time we gobbled up the chaat and I had my soup we had completed drinking out of one of the coke bottles while the second one was still three fourth full. Since it was already 3:10 we had to leave the food court and move to the theater upstairs. But we could not leave the bottle behind. Now as a rule no eatables are allowed inside the theater unless you buy them from shops inside the theater. So what would you do?

Marda: Let’s drink the entire coke quickly?
Me: No can do man.
Muski: I am full of chaat and soup.
Maami: Me too.
Me: I got an idea.
Muski: What?
Me: One of us could slip in the bottle inside the shirt.
Maami: Naah, too visible. And they frisk you anyway.
Me: Dude, I am fat and so are you, we could pass it on as tummy.
Marda: Last time I checked tummy used to be round not cylindrical.
Me: Okay! Slip it in the jeans.
Muski: What?

Marda nodded in disbelief.
Maami: Makes sense.
Muski: You are not seriously thinking about this?

Me and Maami looked at each other with the usual ‘Let’s do it’ look while Marda sank into his usual ‘Can’t believe you’ stares.

Muski: Doooood! Your balls will freeze.
Maami: We will see.

And Maami slipped the bottle in – positioned right at the crotch. Marda was still in disbelief while Muski was grinning devilishly hoping that Maami’s balls will freeze and turn to powder as if attacked by Liquid Nitrogen. We proceeded to the theater entrance. Marda passed after frisking and so did Muski. I went to the guard who was frisking and just as he started his process (which is way too gay man) I started laughing as if he were tickling me. The lady guard standing with him started looking at me and passed a quick smile and turned back to laugh.

I passed through the security and finally Maami came forth. At first the guard frisked him in the usual manner. When he and the lady guard both noticed the bulge. The lady guard said something in his ear to the effect: “Kya hai woh?”

So what should the guard do? 

Guard: Bhaisahab, kya chhupa rakha hai aapne waha?
Maami: Kya chhupa ho sakta hai waha?
Guard: Yeh to aap hi jaane?
Maami: Kyun aapko nahi pata kya?
Guard: Arey matlab…pata hai par kya hai waha?
Maami: Aapko pata hai to kyun pareshaan kar rah hai mujhe?

Guard takes up the responsibility and moves his hands towards the bulge.

Maami: Dood! What the hell? Kya kar rahe ho?
Guard: Check kar raha hoon.
Maami: Kya check kar rahe ho bhaiya?
Guard: Are Sir, yeh…woh…sir woh…kya hai waha?
Maami: Hudd hai…kya ho sakta hai waha?!
Guard: Par sir yeh aisa…
Maami: Aisa kaisa? Jaisa hai vaisa hai!
Guard: Sir kya daal rakha hai aapne waha?
Maami: Kaisa jaleel sawaal hai yeh!
Guard: Sir, batana hoga. Security issue hai.
Maami: Security ka matlab kahi bhi chhune lagenge kya aap? [to us] Kya Gay-pana hai yaar?!

Meanwhile the three of us and the lady guard are laughing.

Guard: Sir, me aapko andar nahi jaane de sakta.
Maami: Kyun? Kya kiya hai maine? Ab yeh aisa hai to meri kya galti hai?
Guard: Par Sir.
Maami: Itni takleef hai to me pant khol deta hoon.

By now I am rolling on the floor. Marda is shaking his head like telegraph machine in action and Muski is making expressions as if he has been hanged.

Guard: Theek hai. Kholiye pant aap.
Maami: Arey! Ajeeb besharam aadmi ho bhai. Ladke bahut pasand hai aapko?

The Lady Guard is laughing, blushing and is awestruck all at the same time. Only a woman can handle this multiplicity. Maami reaches for his pants when the Lady Guard, her left hand on her mouth and the right on the side to help a stitch, asked the guard to let go.

Guard: Arey par kaise?
Lady Guard: To aur kya? Nanga karvaoge unhe (and she giggles as if she half wanted to see Maami naked).

The guard shook his head and turned to Maami: Jaeye bhai sahab.

Maami: Arey? Kya ho gaya? Dekh lijiye. Ladke dekhne ka shauk hai aapko. [and he moved in triumphantly while still looking at the guard. The guard is still looking at the bulge. The lady guard isstill aching with laughter and I am still on the floor, in tears by now.]

Muski helped me up and the four of us, shocked at what we just pulled off, walked inside the theater.

Why you should not smoke with your nose.

[Onion Post Rating: R]

This is an incident from two weeks ago. At around 2:30 am me and three friends, let’s call them SMM, SD and ABA, were at ABA’s room and the smokers were smoking. As it would happen, experimentation started. Please note that LIQUOR was not involved at all.

SMM: Hmmm…I think I will smoke right through my nose.
ABA: Hee hee hee. Seems like a good idea.

And then SMM stuck the cigarette in his nose and took a deep breath after closing down the second nostril with his thumb. And…

SMM [smoke coming out his mouth and nose]: Aw shucks! Aww…aww. oh Aaawww.
SD: Having orgasms mayte (‘y’ intended).
SMM: Awwwwesome.

SD took the SAME cigarette and took a puff – with his mouth. Yuck!

Me: What the hell!!! He just put it in his nose.
SD: What the !@^%#!!! I completely forgot! Yuck.
SMM and ABA: Hee hee hee hee.
SD: Fuck!

After about a second or two…

SD: Hey can we smoke through our ears?
SMM: Hee hee hee.
ABA: Try it. Hee hee hee.

And SD stuck the cigarette in his ear.

ABA: He he he you fool.
SMM: He he he. Nothing. Last time I heard the wind pipe did not go up to the ear moron.
SD: Oh…so the wind pipe is involved?

I, ABA and SMM looked at SD in disbelief.

Me: Dood. Basic Biology. Human Anatomy.
SD: hee hee hee. Anal Tomy Hee hee hee.
Me: What the hell?!

Then SMM took the SAME cigarette from SD and took a puff.

Me: What is wrong with you guys? He just stuck it into his ear man.
SMM: Aww…fuck..Awww!
ABA: Hee hee hee. Hee hee hee.

SD: Only one thing left now.

Me and ABA understood what he was talking about.

Me: No…You are not doing that.
ABA: Oh do it do it please.

And SD dropped his pants but before he could get on with what he was thinking of doing I pounced on him.

Me: You sick bastard! What the hell man.
SMM: The windpipe doesn’t go up your arse SD.
SD: Oh Yeah! How do you fart then?
SMM: Hee hee hee. Pagal hi ho gaye kya? Where’s the cigarette anyway?
SD: The moron made me drop it.
ABA: Fuck! Where is it?
SMM [sniffing]: Whoa! What’s that burning smell?
Me: Dood, the whole room is up in smokes. You fucking chimneys [mock baby like voice] What ishh that bulning shmell. Schmucks!

SD: No really. This is not just tobacco.
ABA: Yeah. It’s like plastic or something.
Me: Yeah! Oh no…Oh no..no no no!
ABA: What the hell?! My book is burning!!

ABA’s brand new grand worth of Fluid Mechanics Book with plastic coated cover was on fire. He took SD’s pants and put it on the book as SMM tried to empty an entire Coca Cola bottle on the Book, the pant and ABA to put the fire off. The movement had ‘weaponized’ the coke and so instead of simply emptying on the book and others the cold-drink went fizz all over the room – in my eyes, on ABA’s laptop, on SD’s crotch and on the floor.

SD: I have been violated.
ABA: Shut up moron. My book is destroyed.
SMM: Hee hee hee. No coke left and the canteen is closed.
Me: Phewww. Let’s put the lights on.

And I took a step towards the switch. The coca cola, spilled on the floor did its part and I was on the floor with a resounding thud. As an after effect the laptop, on which we were planning to watch Punisher – 2, closed down and the room went completely dark.

ABA: What happened?
Me: Shit happened. This is what it is. Ho kya raha hai yaar yeh sab.
SMM: Wait. I will switch on the light. Where are you?
Me: Fuck! You are standing on my hand. Get off!
SMM: Eh! Sorry.
SD: hee hee hee. Masti aa rahi hia.

SMM searched for the switch board and in the process kicked something. Suddenly I felt as if my hair was wet.

Me: What the hell now? What is this stuff.

I stood up with effort pulling the small hair I have on my head when the light’s went on. I looked at the spillage and saw a bisleri bottle. I went to examine it meanwhile SD looked around for his pants.

SD: Oh no! My pants have a hole. ABA moron. You put out the fire with my pants.
ABA: Don’t shout for your 5 pence pant. That book was worth a grand peabrains.
SD: Shucks. How am I supposed to go to my room now.
SMM: In undies. Hee hee hee. This is fun!

I sniffed the bottle and my hair and life was sucked out of me.

Me: What the fuck man! What the hell! Sickos. Fuck.
ABA: What!
Me: Dood. You pee in Bisleri bottles!!! What the hell.
SMM: Yuck! [apparently he was standing on the spilled liquid]
SD: Oh..this gets better and better.
Me: Shut up. ABA dood. You are sick. The toilet is five steps outside your room man. Fuck. I will have to take a bath. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this. Fuck. Arse.
SMM: Hee hee hee
SD: Hee hee hee
ABA: eh..hee hee hee. What can I say bro? Hee hee hee.

Smoke coming out of every conceivable hole in my body, I stomped out of the room.

End of.
Onion!

PS: Yeah I know that the actual spelling is ‘dude’.

Why you should not profess love after saying it’s all about sex.

[This is not supposed to be funny and hence it isn't.]

Sid and Shef are walking down a road at night discussing love. The discussion was started by Sid who wanted to drive it towards their own relationship thereby expressing his feelings towards her but it becomes a bit too intellectual and…

Shef: So you mean love is just a rationalization?!!
Sid: Yeah I mean…basically…yeah. A rationalization of our urges which when uncontrolled become obsessions. A balanced chemical reaction inside the brain.
Shef: Your viewpoint is so…what’s the word…mundane.
Sid: Yeah, but it is a viewpoint and stand by it. It all boils down to sex.
Shef [shocked now]: Sex? I can’t believe you think that this is the way it is. [Shef is definitely upset].
Sid: Hey, I don’t mean to upset you. It is juts my opinion.
Shef: It is complete bullshit. So when I say I love my father what the hell does that mean wiseass?
Sid [dumbfounded]: Uh.oh! Ummm…I think I..
Shef [enraged further]: Come to think of it, what does it mean when you say you love your father?
Sid [totally confused]: Ummm…No I think that’s the way it is when it si about a boy and a girl.
Shef: Oh yeah! So what about brothers and sisters?

Sid: No I mean boys and girls as in… [Shef cuts in between]
Shef: You are sick! [Sid completes his sentence in slightly lower voice and Shef does not hear it]:…you and me.

Shef: And what when someone says they love their dog?
Sid: Hey…cool…cool…we will talk about this later. Let’s drop this for now.
Shef: I don’t want to discuss this with you at all. You might be smart and all but you are wrong about this.
Sid: Look cool down okay. Sorry if I offended you.Well okay! I guess it is time to go.
Shef [Cold]: Bye.

–

Sid thinks overnight, about Shef and their relation and all. He strolls down to his friend Adi’s room and expresses everything. Adi urges him to talk to her and so next day he goes and meets her in the lecture Hall complex after the class finishes. The faculty members and students are still around.

Sid: Hey! How are you?
Shef [coldly]: Fine.
Sid: Look I wanted to tell you something.
Shef: What?
Sid: I love you.
Shef [shouting furiously]: What!? Meaning you want to have sex with me!!

The crowd of students and faculty members stops and starts looking towards the two. There is pin drop silence as if the lecture hall complex was a cemetery.

Sid looks around, embarrassed and tries to smile as a few friends giggle. Shef realizes that she was a bit too loud. She looks around and then runs away. Sid runs after her.

They never talk again [until I get more stories that is].

Lesson: Never propose her after saying love’s all about sex.

Onion.