To knot. Or not to knot !

The last time someone asked me if I ever thought about getting married, I succumbed to romantic pressure, fought bowel pressure, swallowed to keep my breakfast inside and ignoring the lump that formed in my throat, I said, "Gulp.. Yeah.. Sure.. Why not"

"Aaaanndd... Sooo.. What have you thought about marriage?"

Making the most important decision of my life, I managed to say amidst a war on goose pimples, "Yeah.. Err.. I wouldn't mind getting.. Gulp.. married". Brrr..

"Ohhkkkk.. So when do you plan to get married?"

Sigh. What can I say. Some people are never satisfied. Too many strong decisions at the same time can drive a man crazy. Tying the knot, can be a very nutty knotty situation, I believe. Not that I have much experience in the area. There comes a time in every man's life when he has one desperate desire - to run. To throw his head back and to think of nothing else except put one foot in front of the other as quickly as he can and RUN like the wind.

I always imagined a deep sombre voice inspiring the likes of Carl Lewis and Maurice Greene to their 100m world records. A deep sombre voice that must have said something along the lines of, "Marriage... Maaarrriiiaaaagggeee.. Do you want to get married to me Carl? Alright. So, what about you Maurice? How about this weekend?". And our dear Carl and dear Maurice shoot off the start line with an awe inspiring, "Aaaaaaahhhhhhh....... ". Talk about secrets to success. Remember gentlemen, behind every successful man, is a woman. Our other dear Ben Johnson, I presume, did not have such a guardian angel guiding, guarding and goading him on. Pity he had to resort to steroids instead.

I am yet to meet a soul who wants to get married. I know some really nice guys, about early thirties, steady relationship for the last 5 years kinds. I know some really smart, pretty women, late twenties, steady relationship for the last 3 years kinds. I am yet to meet a soul who wants to get married.

Which is why I don't understand the phenomenon of Matrimonial websites. Apparently, I am not in sync with something that is clearly in vogue. Or maybe, I'm just not an eligible bachelor....... Actually, wait.. Lets not go down that road..

So in order to educate myself. I go to my single largest primary source of information - Wikipedia. Search for "Matrimonial Sites" and this is what I find:

" The matrimonial style of online dating is most prevalent in India, where many websites vie for clients. The larger websites have their own service centers around India. Indian marriage requirements can be very specific in religion, caste, language, and location, a need that suits Internet solutions well. For instance, there are 15 sections for different languages on the BharatMatrimony.com, Shaadi.com and on Merasathi.com. Potential brides and husbands can select from 10 different languages, 8 religions and 7 different countries."

Please.. Surely, you must be joking.

And they have a problem with Orkut. Online dating not inline with Indian culture and sentiment, they say. Offensive to Indian people, they say. Pretty much the same hassle they had with Valentine's day, I say. Or with english names to Indian streets and cities. But they're all gung ho about the white man's game - Cricket. Come on brothers, throw away the remnants of the angrezi raj, embrace the gilli danda. Three cheers for the gilli danda world cup, I say. What can I say.. May the force be with you.

Sorry. Much too much enthu. Getting back on track, the other day, at a restaurant, I couldn't help but flap my ears hard enough to hear the conversation at the next table. Evidently, an elder brother was updating his father on the travails of his younger brother.

With obviously abundant experience on this subject, he says,

"But Appa, he cannot take this personally."

"Hmmm.. ", said an obviously clueless father who would rather prefer the icky broker, constantly wiping the parachute oil oozing out of his neatly combed hair, carrying a bag under his armpit filled with photographs of young prospective brides.

"He screamed at the girl because she rejected him. I told him it is just like how he rejected other girls; other girls can also reject him. It is all in the game. In the end, someone will agree Appa. He need not get worried."

"Hmmm.."

"Take my example. I had to meet 43 women. I was also very strong in my requirements. I rejected two of them myself. But at last I met my soulmate Priya, no?"

"Hmmm.."

And thats when I figure out a little more of how this thing works. It's like window shopping. Just keep walking down the road and look at some mannequins. Even if you do like something you see, just try it on for sometime. Look in the mirror. Ask your mom how good you look. And if they're sure and you're sure, go ahead and pounce on it before someone else buys it. Of course, the shop retains the right to deny you a sale. If they do, its no big deal. There's another shop just around the corner.

So thats how we get our life partners. By shop-hopping. The world must be a really nice place. Think about the probability. Out of the zillion gazillion people in the world, you meet about a dozen. Alright, maybe two dozen. What the hell, lets say you hit a century. Excellent effort. Applause applause. Out of that 100 that you shortlisted and met, you actually found the perfect person for you. The one true love. The light of your life. Your soul mate. Your life partner. What was the probability. Congratulations. I am very glad for you.

Many thanks for the revelation. Thanks, but no thanks. I'd still prefer to do the Carl Lewis or the Maurice Greene act. Not for long, of course. My decision still holds. I will get married. Someday, someone will say "Hi Hari. How're you doing? Nice? Glad to know that.", and promptly proceed to tie up my feet, put a fully loaded gun to my forehead and politely request me to tie the knot with her. And I shall gladly, willingly oblige.

Either that could happen or....
....
......
........
Nope. Thats it. That could happen.

P.S - Now I'm wondering how some guys have multiple wives. God forbid. Shiva shiva..

Office. Office..? Office !

Yeah. Sigh. Couldn't resist a post on office and office-ing, of course from, where else, office. It had to be a matter of time. And if my boss is reading this: I really don't have any work today. I tried, but I really couldn't find any. Ok. So, that doesn't help. God promise? Ok. Won't work either. Sigh.. I resign myself to my fate.

So here I am. A hard working young man [THIS event does not count!], brimming with vitality and vigour, so to speak, stuck behind a laptop in the confines of a cubicle. Yes, its called a cubicle because its a tiny partial cube. Strategically positioned so that one is not tempted to do non-official work [and yes again, blogging included]. Ingeniously designed to prevent one from stretching an arm or a leg. Forty winks is a big no no. I have about 14 windows open on my taskbar and I am adept at the Alt+Tab skill. With the boost of over-confidence that my supremely capable capabilities give me, I embark on this dangerous mission.

So here I am. Errr.. actually, here is where I definitely am not. Jeez, this is more difficult than I thought. I'm keeping a straight face and sitting as close to the laptop as possible, one eye on the screen and the other on my boss, constantly Alttabbing [Refer to the copyright - The word's mine!] between excel sheets, presentations and pdf's. Damn, if I looked at myself five feet away, I'd be damn impressed with my productivity. Oh, that reminds me.. Today's timesheet is going to be a fairytale. Heheheh.. Me proud of me. Very proud, indeed.

Hang on for a second. Nosey colleague comes looking for nosey conversation..

Ok. We can talk now. He's gone. He just stopped by to say, "Enna machaan.. You seem to be very busy these days.."

"Yeah, I'm just sending across the final [Alttab gtalk] presentation to the client. Have to be in Mumbai tomorrow. [Alttab gtalk] Damn, I totally forgot, [Alttab excel sheet] I also have some analysis to do on another project. [Alttab gtalk]", I said, while typing sweet somethings to a sweet pretty little thing on, what else, gtalk.

"Oh! That much work ah da.. Mama, you're overworked da.. "

[Chest swells]

"Seriously man. They don't pay me enough. The kind of work I do. See?.. " [Alttab - one year old presentation]

"Ohhhh! Mapillai!! That looks damn neat man. Could you teach me how to do that?"

[Chest swells, some more]

"Yeah.. I know.. Sigh.. But I'm busy this week and hmmmmm, even until Wednesday next week. Lets say next Thursday?.. Tentatively? I'll confirm by Saturday."

"Sure man. Anytime you're free.. "

Good good. Daily dose of ego boosting - DONE!

Very funnily. Everyone at every position gets vetti time. But none of them can afford to admit to it. Its like the universal standard excuse, "In a meeting". As a relatively new entrant into the (hardly) working-world, I am a victim of such excuse-abuse. I don't even give the meeting excuse. Nobody buys it anymore and people take offense. Don't want to shoo away pretty young things like the one above.
[Me - Out of form. Queue of PYTs outside home - Not anymore. Dad and mom - Very anxious ]

Wait.. Did I just get an email??? Yay!! This is where I remove my vetti label..

Disclaimer: Above events may be exaggerated and/or fabricated. This post cannot be used against me during appraisals, performance reviews. Yes, even during lunch time!

P.S - Translation for the Tamil-ignorant population (Its alright. Nobody's perfect.)

Enna - What
da - [Errr.. Don't know. Nothing really]
Vetti - Jobless
Machan - Wife's brother
Mama - Uncle
Mapillai - Son-in-law
[Don't ask. Complicated relationships. Even more complicated usage. Really, don't ask]

P.P.S - Dearest PYT - Kindly adjust.. :)

Speed kills, but thrills..

I always found these advertisements by the traffic police quite hilarious. About how speed thrills, but kills and how drinking impairs driving and all that. Yes, yes, I understand the funda of propoganda and drilling it into their heads.. But the point really is this, we know all that jazz. How on earth are you going to get us to look at the situation differently..

But thats not the point, really.. I don't want to go on a tangent on mass-manipulation and influence. The point is this. Today is the 1st of June, and they've made it compulsory in this city to be wearing helmets today onwards. Yeah.. they announced it three months back.. Women have been chewing my brains on it for years now. My darling sister has been sitting on my head for the last 6 months. Dad's been on my nerves for the last two. YET, I have successfully (and maybe stupidly) resisted all this pressure to buy a helmet.

Its quite irritating. If you're claustrophobic, its even suicidal. It sweats, its uncomfortable. It restricts your line of sight and you really can't hear too well. You can't feel the wind in your face and you don't feel like you're flying either. For riders like me, who ride more according to the sounds around, lights and reflections rather than merely mirrors and signals, it impairs my riding. I'd be safer riding drunk. Now if you're going to tell me that it will protect my head in the unfortunate event of an accident, I'm going to say that if the cause of the accident is the helmet itself, then whats the point in it protecting me in the event of an accident. Yes, prevention is better than cure. But, really, preventing the need for a prevention of a cure is better than merely preventing the cure.. Don't you think..

So yesterday, I tried, once again, yet another attempt in my long line of attempts to be a changed man and a sincere law abiding citizen, to go and purchase a helmet. The attempt of course was a hilarious, ridiculous failure. So I took the car to office today.

But wait, don't judge me just yet. I go to this place thats quite famous for helmets and the likes and there's a line of policemen outside the shop to make sure nobody parks in the vicinity, so that they don't add to the commotion. So I go up to a policeman and ask him,

"Brother (In tamil, so it really doesn't sound so cool). How do you expect to me buy a helmet for tomorrow when you won't let me near the shop"

So he grins and says, "I understand brother (In tamil again, the sibling rivalry gets a little queasy now), but they won't understand"

"Now, who the hell is they?"

"The police"

Now, what can I say. I'm not a quitter, but sometimes, there is no point. Anyway, so I parked my bike further down the road and walked back to the shop. So I noticed, there are another 5 helmet shops on the same road that have sprung up overnight. They have partly downed their shutters and there are policemen outside each of shops restricting entry to minimize commotion and there's a mile-long queue (Well, not really, more like flies around a dead cow) of wannabe buyers. I stirred up the primal instincts in me, elbowed a million men and finally found myself victorious and inside a shop, WITHOUT any helmets left to sell. Of course, none of the million men knew that, and it would take all of them another coupla hours to figure that one out. Not much of a description needed really. Have you ever watched BBC / CNN? Ever seen relief material being distributed in Somalia? Moreorless the same..

And so I took the car to office today.

And all along the way, I found sincere, law abiding citizens, all of them with sparkling, spanking new helmets. Makes you proud, does it? Good. Me, Not at all. Makes me want to weep in the stupidity of it all. We are begged for our votes by some guy that we elect only to make rules that we ourselves don't really believe in. And we scramble like a bunch of desperate 14 year olds fighting for the only available issue of playboy. All because of somebody, who is somebody only because they begged and we gave..

Disclaimer: This is not to say that helmets aren't useful or necessary or that it is a bad move to make wearing helmets compulsory. It is merely the stupidity of not giving a damn about wearing helmets and going on a treasure hunt around the city to purchase one on the eleventh hour merely for a silly law dictated by our public 'servant' which cannot really affect anybody if nobody would abide to it. The stupidity. Theirs, yours, MINE. Ours..

P.S - More on the speed kills, but thrills funda later..