Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Devil's Demented Demonic Daughter

You should write about her.  
NO WAY.


A few days later, she brought it up again.
I really think you should write her… this shit needs to be written, needs to be read… 

NO … I cant do that. I only write happy stuff. Peace. OMMMMMM . Love.. light….So, give it a rest will you?

A few days later
GOD! Womannnn…you should. You really, really should write about her. Fuck! A lot of women out there will thank you for writing it.

This time she was more persistent. 
My NO held less conviction that day. 

You should write about her.

Seriously Nu, you should. Think about it. All of us, all women everywhere, know of someone just like her.  Either its been our personal bad karma or because she happened to someone close to us.

That bitch struts into that part when Cinderella is dancing with her prince. She would sigh and then wave her  wicked wand and then suddenly there is no shoe, no dress, no nothing. Wait… even worse, the prince now wants to murder Cinderella. Yep that’s the part the bitch plays into transforming your fairytale to a WTF after.

Come on Nu, you can’t deny what she did. You should speak out. I don’t know what your write and don't write in your blog, but this shit needs to be written.

She could see that she was convincing me to think about it, so she carried on. She was shivering with anger as she spoke.  

She wrecked havoc and then strutted away complaining about you, while you ran around like a headless chicken trying to pick up pieces and fix things. And you know what Nu, she is universal. There is a version of her in Sweden, another one doing just the same in Yemen, heck my neighbor has a similar bitch in her life.

Well she did have a point. Many points. That woman did drive me insane. She reminds me of Kathy Bates from Misery.  



Or at least that is the kind of loathing, dread and well misery she evoked in me. Of course Kathy Bates is far prettier than her.

As my face grew more taut, she said…It’s time . It really is time someone wrote about her. Promise me you will write about her. You deserve it, its time someone spoke out about that bitch. You are not doing this for yourself …you are doing this for all of us.

I thought about it as I got onto the ferry. It was true, the topic was universal. Across cultures, demographics, generations the types of her had made countless other women miserable. While some cried, others jumped of buildings… To date there is no law protecting women from these prana sucking devil.


demon...devil...demented...

And I recalled lines that  described her essence perfectly

"...are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them... Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself...soulless and evil. You will be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life."




Remus Lupin to Harry Potter

Dementor , yes that is what she is! Or maybe she is the dementor's mother....

And so I started writing about her.

A sentence.

A paragraph.

A page…

Pages after pages filled with what she did, the lies she said, the viciousness,the way she played sweet and ruined your life. How she can drive you into cigarettes, booze, tranquilizers, suicide hotlines…

The pages turned into a couple of posts…

Soon I had written enough to make a blog about her. Here is the link to my new blog dedicated to her.  She is the

Devils Demented Demonic Daughter 

http://devilsdementeddemonicdaughter.blogspot.com/

Go on CLICK on the  link above and let the world know about that bitch!

So much for peace , compassion, unity consciousness that my yoga practice has taught me. Today is  fury unleashed, unedited . I have even posted a video and audio that I took of her!

Sunday, October 9, 2011

on a train


Sick sweet scent of fake perfumes
Talc and sweat, mingled breath
Bustle, noise and opinions voiced.
Incoherence and the occasional snacks
Chai Chai, Coffee, Samosa, Vada
Alighting departing faces and suitcases
Hawkers, beggars, haggle over coolie baada
Beyond the cattle grazing, crops ripening, unheard children waving
Far away clouds, thatched huts all chug chugging with the train

Unfilled, empty, untaken,  a seat just got taken.
The foreground sprinted away to be the oblivion
An unknown face, unheard voice
Scooters, rickshaws, cattle at a level crossing
Hello… Books we read, songs we sang
Illusions of familiarity were none exists
Come hither lines revealingly concealed, exchanged
Fated getaway or was it just the Indian railways?

Deities of common trivia became alleged religion
What-really-matters alighted at the last station
And the less it mattered the less it matters
Strumming notes for the orgiastic dance
A roach unhurried through the floor
Behind a biriyani scented curtain a button came undone
Atop the hard upper berth, creation got played in mute
Omelet, Cutlet, Biscuit, Femina
TT, Bengali babble, bawling child, snoring uncle
Satiated and spent, two hearts thump thumping with the train

Spiraling languid aftermath, hushed psychedelic white lights
Take a bow, he says, the dance is done
Applause fades, descend from the limelight
Fervor and passion the intensity dampens
Whence it all sprang forth, never to be traced.
Naught sustains of the blaze brazen
And my runaway train tracking a way home
Breakfast madam? sir? 
Thirty Rupees.

Bogie world, fleeting, departing, alighting
Billows and my deep sigh spewed out of the train
A knowing gnawing silence in the soul
The span to the station is all that holds
Then we drift like those never met
All that remains is the tracks
We are just strangers on the train
Hawkers, beggars, cops and beepers
Gawkers and refreshement stalls

A passing train hoot...
A track , A face, A restrained shudder 
A biriani curtained berth,
All in memory’s labyrinth forever stashed

Now flood my senses
Uncalled a solitaire tear trickles to commemorate
Chai Chai, Coffee, Samosa, Vada

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Boxers

I met boxers after I turned 24.
Am not talking about the dog breed. Dog...Will do that later on.
I am not referring to men who earn for landing a punch. Boxers...Will do that later on.

I AM referring to that cozy pair of clothing that I am now addicted to.

It was a livid HOT summer’s day in Delhi and my goofy classmate Joobi invited me to join the guys at the pool. Water – refreshing. Swimming - I swim like a rock. Swimwear – ooops.
Joobi offered a pair of shorts.
Yes, a T and shorts are passable as swimwear in India. So are salwars and kurtas and dupattas and 5 meters long saree!

Joobi vouched to watch over me. 
Yes, I try potentially dangerous things, thankfully am still alive

So there I was at the pool deck, wearing a T shirt and a pair of shorts. I stuck to the shallow end, joyfully splashing about. Joobi was given specific instructions that if I lose my footing , I would put up my hand, he will then need to drag me to the safety of the shallow end.

I can never stick to the plan. Less can Joobi.

Yippee cant touch one foot on the pool floor. Yippee cant touch both feet on the floor. YIP…. Oh O..gulp sputter ggurrglle splash

Soon I was gulping my share of chlorine and public pool piss. Frantically I put my hand up. Joobi…gulp  JOOOBBI? Gullllppppp sputter splashhh  NOW WHERE IS JOOBI?  GULPPP Splassshhhh OMG!
Joobi had forgotten his Baywatch duty.

SP grew up on a diet of Baywatch. So when he saw a drowning, distressed damsel he came rushing in from the other end of the pool. What SP did not know was, what to do once you reach the drowning distressed damsel.

Lets call it a case of me being in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong savior.  

SP grabbed my hair, forced my head underwater and dragged on the pool floor. GULLLLLLLLLLLP GULLLLLPPPP GULLLLPPPP (Yeahh! more than my share of chlorine and public pool piss)

In my attempt to live, I kicked punched struggled to end SP’s lethal rescue efforts. I think I bit his hand, and thus got him to lose his grip over my head and I torpedoed myself to safety. I got off the pool, lay on the deck thanking I was alive. SP came over, all I could tell him was….NEXT TIME …Please DON’T…

He dint get it, so I sat up and repeated. PLEASE DO NOT RESCUE EVER AGAIN.
Not the thanks he was expecting. And if you think that was bad... wait till you hear what happened to SP a few weeks later.

Oh and Joobi…was still nowhere to be seen!

I headed home right away and slept off the shock. It was weeks before I met Joobi or SP. The borrowed pair of shorts continued to live a borrowed life with me.

Some days passed before I decided to wear those shorts. Boyyy they ARE SO DAMN comfy.

Why the hell cant they make women’s clothing to be this comfortable? A womans shorts is busy trying to exaggerate the curve of her butt, widen her hip, narrow her waist and oo hide her tummy.

A guys shorts is just being.  Hugging where you like to be hugged, discreetly staying off areas where you are sensitive.  Room to breathe. Second skin. A guy’’s shorts will never painfully rub your butt crack. A guys shorts will never leave angry red marks near the waist band.  Anyways all this only means I wore those shorts over and over again.

Months passed…

"You wore them? You mean you still wear them????...whoa...dont you know those are boxers ", Joobi laughed incredulously.
"aaaa…. what is a boxer …" Yeah I met boxers rather late.  

It was then, that Joobi informed me that I was wearing a man's used underwear. YEEESSSHHHH. JOOOBBBBIIIIII I screamed as he laughed.

But should say they are so damn comfy!

The story doesn't end there, apparently the pair of shorts, I mean underwear belonged to SP. Yep the same Baywatch dude. It was a gift by his girlfriend. Now it so happened that his girl asked him where his boxers were.  It is uncanny how women know when something is missing. SP innocently told her that the boxers were with me.

Had it been a shirt, a tie or a pair of socks she would have been fine but somehow when it comes to your man’s underwear being with another woman, no amount of explaining would suffice. SP thus not only bid farewell to his underwear but also to his girlfriend.

Years have gone by and I somehow never felt like throwing away my first boxer shorts. Five days ago they were given to the last being who would use it.

Rossi Valentino had just been desexed and I needed to ensure that he would not lick his stitches. Instead of making him wear a ridiculous and uncomfortable Victorian Collar, I made him wear the boxers. Naturally he was very comfortable in it. Darn those boxers are so comfy.  He did not lick his privates.

Now that his stitches have healed, my first ever boxers have to leave for good. Darn that boxer has had a colorful life. It has hugged a dick, a jane and ball-less dog!

Farewell my first boxer. You have served well.

….
PS:  He asked me you covered dogs, men's underwear but what about the men who land a punch? I told him gift me a pair of boxers and I will tell you about that.  I Cant write that in this blog – even my mom  reads this. So if you want to know about the other boxers I left out, go on gift me a pair and I will tell you
J

Monday, June 20, 2011

On Losing My Virginity and the Frustrating Dry Phase

It was the most eagerly anticipated loss of virginity. Clichéd as it sounds …it was the backseat. The front seat came a month later. I am writing about it after all these years , because I have not been getting any... for a very long time. I absolutely believe that if I write about it, I will be getting some real action soon! It was good, it was perfect. I want more … a lot more.

FLASHBACK

That day everything was new. I was the new girl in a new city. Was with a new set of friends in a new book store in a new mall. A new friend offered to drop me home. Thank you.

I heard it before I saw it. And I knew I was about to lose my virginity.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP

The tingling started instantly. I could feel the blood rushing into my face. I could smell the leather, could see the glint of metal. No foreplay will be required.
I mounted the back seat… Royal Enfield Bullet Electra Black.I closed my eyes, felt the vibrations and smiled in rapture as the bike thundered.  Riding- on- the Royal Enfiled – virginity… LOST.

And  a month later I got to be the one riding the beast for the first time!

Not the story you had in mind? -  SCREW YOU.
Of all the various virginities lost, this was worth the wait. Unlike many other first time experiences, this was better than what they say it is. HEADY potent stuff. Darnn it is so good that they may make it illegal!

It’s THE oldest Motorcycle in the world.
Its not a bike. It’s a beast, a baby, a bitch and your guardian angel all rolled into one.
If God rode a bike it would be a Royal Enfield. Don’t believe me? There is a shrine in Rajasthan where the idol is a Royal Enfield 350. I was hoping to pay homage earlier this year, hopefully the next year now.

Come to think of it, I actually follow my Code of the Bullet more religiously than the ten commandments. Don’t believe me? If I ever steal it will be a Bullet. If I ever covet someone else’s possession, which I do and it is a Bullet. (Shan if you are reading this you know that I have my eyes on your beast)

Come to think of it, I never really shared my Code of the Bullet with anyone. So here goes…this part deals with interpersonal interactions based on the presence or absence of a Bullet.

STRANGERS
You have a Bullet – I am your friend. I will seek you out, find you and befriend you. I did that just few months ago. I went to an Ashram to let go off my worldly thoughts and there SHE was - a BLACK THUNDERBIRD. I sought out the guy who owns it. We are bonded for life (as long as he has the bike)

FRIENDS
You buy a bike and its not a Bullet…. Remember there are boys and then there is the Bullet. I will have to inject you with growth hormones. I am proud to say I did turn few mamma’s boys into men. Thank You. Thank You.


You had a Bullet and then moved on to some chick shit… I will remove you from my facebook news feed. I am serious. I did that to a bimbo (who was once a man) who now sits on some yellow tweety. The yellow tweety happened after he got smashed in the crotch by a yellow submarine - condolences but WTF? 

You are separated from your Bullet… I will pray for your soul. Sandy, Sivaji may you be reunited with your Bullet soon. I am holding a candle light vigil for you.

RATS
If rat buys a Bullet… he becomes a non plague causing rat. Last year I finally found it in my heart to start talking to a rat, because he redeemed himself by getting a Bullet.

Well I could go on and on… But the truth is I am not getting any :(  Its been a long frustrating dry phase ever since I came to Hong Kong. I am in a city where there are no Bullets. (Sorry Islanders all I see here is Hello Kitty and Mickey Mouse!!) Since I couldn’t get lucky here I tried to get lucky when I went to India. There too multiple plans of Bullet trips were laid to waste. (SHAAAA I hate you!!!) It made me think a while about what is my future with the Bullet.

I meditated over it…




and finally it dawned

Be the Man! Get the Beast

So this year I hope to be able to get a license and get the beast to Hong Kong. I want to ride my Bullet for Christmas. Each time I write something I get it. So please read this..pass it on and year end I will be posting pics! Come on I am in the prime of my life and I am not getting any….

Hey Prasad, any chance you can give me that Bullet sitting idle at your place?  Hong Kong and I can be  the  muse for your  Art of Motorcylcing :)



Next stop - Hong Kong?  :)
 
Is anyone from Royal Enfield reading this? Heyy think about it - since Bullet Baba passed away, you really dont have a Yogi riding one ...  COME ON!!!


Photos: From the Royal Enfiled Website http://www.royalenfield.com/default.aspx

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Which Nostril Are You?

Gently press down on your left nostril and breathe from the right. Now, press down on your right nostril and breathe in and out of left. Do you feel the difference in the way air flows through each of the nostril? Which nostril feels more open? …

An hour and half later, check again.

85% of all people breath from one nostril at a given time. Some have the non-functioning nostril completely blocked. Most feel a slight congestion in one nostril. Some feel both nostrils are open, but one is more open than the other.

The interesting thing is, the predominant nostril is not constant. Every 60 or 100 minutes the predominant nostril alternates. If the left was dominant earlier, now the right will be dominant. Also you may observe that during the alternating phase, the breath flows through both nostrils.

The ancient Yogis’ were aware of this. They studied the effect of breath through each nostril. They found that the nostril you breathe from effects you physically, mentally and even spiritually. They realized that through the awareness of flow of breath it is possible to attain enlightenment. This knowledge and path, is called Swara Yoga.

The word Swara means "the sound of one's own breath" and yoga means "union". Swara yoga teaches how a state of union can be achieved by means dwelling upon and deciphering one's breath.

According to the Vedic System, energy flows through 3 main channels. The criss-crossing Ida, Pingala and the central channel Sushuhmna. Correspondingly there are three types of Swara – through the left nostril, through the right and through both the nostrils.

Ida is the cold lunar flow, the corresponding nostril is left.  The left swara presides over mental actions. When the left nostril is active , mental activities such as thinking, planning, calculating, etc are at peak performance. Creativity, imagination, intuition, insight are associated with the left Swara. Medical research indicates that the breath through left nostril has an effect on the Parasympathetic Nervous System. The PNS is responsible for stimulation of “rest, relaxation” or cooling as suggested by Ida.

Pingala is the hot solar flow, the corresponding nostril is the right one. The right swara presides over physical actions. When the right nostril is active, we optimize on physical activities such as digestion, exercise, etc. The right Swara is related with the Sympathetic Nervous System – the fight fright flight part of the human body.

Sushumna is the central channel for the flow of vital energy. The flow through the Sushumna occurs only with purification of the mind and body. During the alternation of predominant nostril the breath flows through both left and right equally. This indicates that the Sushumna is active. When the Sushumna is active the body and mind are relaxed and functioning at optimal levels. Spiritual actions such as meditation require both nostrils to be active.

Now that you understand the bare basics of Swara Yoga, here are some tips to improve your day.

Activate your right nostril
  • Before your yoga class. This will decrease discomfort experienced while doing asana.
  • Before having food. Helps to digest food.
           
Activate your left nostril
  • Prior to important meetings. It would sharpen your acumen.
  • For deepening your meditation

Treating with Swara Yoga
  • When feverish, observe the nostril that is predominant. Lie down on the side of the active nostril, this would help to open the other nostril and thus balance the system.
  • Common cold is associated with an active left nostril, so work on activating your right nostril.
  • Chronic diseases such as Asthma effects the Swara. It has been observed that in such cases one nostril is active for a much longer duration the other, in such conditions balancing the Swara is known to bring about cure.
How to activate a nostril?
To activate a nostril – let’s say the right
a) close the left nostril gently using index finger and breath from right for 20 to 40 breaths
b) use a cotton ball to plug left nostril or left ear to open the right nostril
c) lie on your left side for 5 to 8 minutes to activate the right
d) apply pressure on your left armpit for few minutes to activate the right

The wisdom of the ancient sages and the marvel of the human body… Keep exploring


Sunday, May 22, 2011

Seven Mats And



TIME 3:15 pm

The first drop hit me as I crossed the Lyndhurst Terrace Street. I looked up, the sky was ready to burst. I love the rains, but today I would be more at ease if it did not rain.

I had organized my first Yoga group class in Hong Kong and YES I was hoping that people attend it. 

I walked into Shakti Healing Circle on Wyndham Street. It does not matter what the world outside looks like, once you step into Shkati it is always bright, beautiful, peaceful and fragrant.  I immediately felt better. I walked into my the yoga room, lit an incense stick and said my prayers. I then laid out 6 mats, the maximum the room could hold. I then looked at the adjacent room, opened it up and put one more mat there.

TIME 3:45 pm

I sat down on a mat and looked out of the large window. I saw umbrellas. I saw wipers swishing furiously on windshields. I saw people running for cover. I sat down preparing myself for the possibility that I may be my only student today. I looked at the seven empty mats.

A rain cloud appeared above my head. Dark and ominous. It hovered there and then ppooofff it disappeared with the thought “ I could do with an hour and half of practice!! J”.

TIME 4:30 pm
I lay down in corpse pose to begin my Sivananda Yoga session  

TIME 4:32 pm
Sheeba is on her way and I imagined a bubbly couple coming in for the session.
That’s when Chunky landed up at the centre completely DRENCHED. I hugged her and said THANKS.

A few minutes later someone else landed up. I greeted her and invited her in. She told me that the rest were on their way. (WOWWW)  “rest of them…who??”  “I am Sheeba’s friend and they are all on their way.”  That’s when someone else walked in.  I checked with the three who were present to see if it is ok to start late as I was expecting few more.

4:55 Six mats was occupied. I was about to start when I heard that there is one more.

With that we began….cats and dogs fell from the sky outside…cat stretches and downward dogs inside.

Of all the sessions I have taught this was extra special. Everyone began with the absolute belief that they are not flexible and then all of them went on to do some amazing feats. The energy everyone brought into the group was incredible. As I wound down the session with Yoga Nidra, there was a slight smile on everyone’s face. They had floated off into the blue sky to greet the sun.

It felt that there were seven mats and seventy tons of Prana in the room! It was an honor to be a part of all that energy. Thanks to all who made this happen!




Yogic Glossary

Prana - Vital energy or life force.
Yoga Nidra - a practice to shift from waking to a state hovering between consciousness and deep sleep that is deeply relaxing and helps the body heal itself

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Moving with the Mantra


A mantra is a mystical energy encased in a sound structure. The purpose of Mantra is to protect the mind from wandering, lead it to the divine within.

Some mantras are inherited  - they come to you from your family customs or religious traditions. 

Some mantras are taught to you by a Guru and you make them a part of your life.  You know what they mean, how to say it, what to do with it, what it does to you.

Some mantras ease into your life so subtly and silently.  You hardly recall how or when they became a part of your day. They stick to you and they reveal their meaning slowly, gently... purifying you each step of the way.

It does not matter how the Mantra comes to you. I believe that the mantra chooses you and not the other way. The purpose of all Mantras is the same to purify, strengthen and guide. You begin to move with the Mantra, one step at a time.

Many (many) years ago, I was introduced to a Mantra. While I did not know what it meant, there was something about the way, the sounds of the Mantra called out to me.  The Mantra unknowingly struck a chord deep within. I began to recite it, not knowing what it meant.

A few years passed this way and then someone told me, that it is the Mantra of compassion, the jewel in the lotus. Om Mani Padme Hum.

Om Mani Padme Hum

Few years passed and then someone taught me what it meant.

Om, composed of ‘A’, ‘U’ and ‘M’.  Om signifies the body, mind and spirit. Om is the primordial sound that created the universe. Om the waking, the dream, the deep sleep. OM the enlightenment.

Mani means a jewel. A jewel is capable of removing poverty or deficiency. Likewise a mind that is like a jewel can remove deficiencies. Helps you find peace - when there is turbulence, compassion, when there is hatred.

Padme a lotus symbolizing the wisdom. Lotus blooms in the muck. It overcomes the slush, opens into the blue sky and looks at the sun.

Hum, the indivisibility of method and wisdom. Put simply the method you will choose will affect the wisdom you will gain. The wisdom you have, will lead you to the method you will choose.

Years went by.  Each time I saw or felt some deficiency outside of me; or  felt the muck around me I chanted the Mantra. The chanting soothed me down.

Eventually the mantra lead me to a space where it did not matter whether there was a deficiency or muck. I began to chant it more often. The chanting moved me into a state of better clarity.

One day, I was chanting the Mantra as I walked my dogs. It suddenly hit me, the deficiency is not outside, the muck is not outside. The deficiencies and the dirt I seek to change is within. WITHIN. The chanting moved me to look deeper within.

Om Mani Padme Hum

While it took many years of moving with the mantra, I feel the journey has just begun.

(Photo Credits : Christopher J. Fynn, Anand R P)

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

A Matter of Name

No matter where you go some familiar faces follow you. This one followed me on the Telly with the Matter of Taste. Each time I see him on screen, I am reminded of another episode - a reality episode.

Lets talk about that…
SCENE 1 ACT 1

Hello
Hello, Could I speak to Vir?
Yes Speaking
Hi, I am calling from LBSIM. Is this a good time?
Yes it is
We are organizing a talk session by Deepak Nayar. It would be fantastic if you would list it in the day’s events for the 5th of June
Sure, I can do that. Could you mail the details to bla@ht.com ?
Thanks Vir… hey can I count on you, to get this in the events ..? It ABSOLUTELY has to be there, my life hangs on it
Will take care of that…
Thanks Vir, you made my day. Will keep you posted. Have a good day
Good day to you too.

SCENE 1 ACT 2
Tanya
Yes Vir
Hey, call the City editor and tell him that a student of LBSIM will mail him. Put her event in the daily events section.
(confusion….) Yes Vir...
Tanya, did I get fired?
(more confusion…) NO VIR…what happened?
Well a girl just called me to put some college seminar on the daily events section.
WHAT?
.
. an hour later
.
Random conversation in the HT Washroom
Hey dude you should hear this… some chick from LBSIM called up GOD and asked him to put her insti seminar in the daily section
WHAT?
.
.soon
.
Random conversation at the TOI Washroom
Guess what happened at HT today… some LBSIM student called up Sanghvi regarding daily events
WHAT?

---------- and then

Not so random conversation at the Financial Times Washroom
Hey Sandeep, are you with LBSIM?
Yes
Well then some student called up Vir Sanghvi regarding daily events
WHAT???
-----
SCENE 2 ACT 1

Sandeep Srivastava walked in. He taught Corporate Finance. I suffer from financiophobia. I deal by hiding behind tall boys of the class, hoping that I go undetected in the class.

I got detected. Sandeep Srivastava started walking towards my direction.
(NOOOOOO, not this way! Go AWAY)

“Nuthan”
“Yes sir” (Oh SHIT !!! Please GODDD not a quiz)
“Did you call Hindustan Times”
(Sigh of relief) “Yes Sir, called HT yesterday” I beamed

Sandeep Srivastava headed the institute’s Media/ PR Cell. My under performance in the finance class was compensated with my over performance in the Media Cell.

“Who did you call”
“The City Editor”
“and you called VIR SANGHVI”?
“mmm Yes Sir” (warning bell)

“And WHY did you call him?”
(What do you mean WHY? You told me to DUHHHHH! )
“ To tell him about the seminar we are hosting this weekend, to get the event featured in the city events…”

Chukcle, snort, Muffled ha ha he he from the class.
(Why does my FOOT feel like it is in my MOUTH)

“Is everything OK, Sir?” (WARNING, red alert)
“Nuthan you called Vir Sanghvi …and you are asking me if everything is OK He spoke in his characteristic slow, measured, sarcastic tone. (Mayday Mayday…)
“I did exactly what you had asked of me, call the City Editor and so…”
I told you to call the City Editor , not GOD”

The class burst out in peals of laughter. (Of course you think its funny. BUT WAIT) I dug into my backpack, took out the Media contact list. And viola

Profile
Name
Directline
Board Line
non-god
City Editor, Delhi
Vir Sanghvi
***
&&&


I walked up to Sandeep Srivastava, pointed at the column.

It was Sandeep Srivastava’s turn to look perplexed. A second later he then pointed to the name right on top of the list

Profile
Name
Directline
Board Line
GOD
Editor in Chief
 (I think that was his actual profile then)
Vir Sanghvi
***
&&&

G
That’s when we realized that we had two entries for Vir Sanghvi – both as a GOD and a non-god

I had spoken to the GOD, to get my teeny-weeny, itsy-witsy event in his paper. That’s like calling up Ambani/ Le Ka-Shing to check the price of vegetables at Reliance Fresh/ ParknShop.

-------

And thus LBSIM got a seminar published in the City News of HT for the very first time.
"CLAP CLAP…BRAVO!!!"
huh? no encore????

Follow by Email