Fading Festive

Google Images

It was the eve of Independence Day; 15^th August. World was a beholder when world’s largest democracy cherished its 64^th year of emancipation. I was trying to rate my patriotism. Has it increased by few folds or has it decreased by few notches. I don’t fly kites anyone, has the patriotism inside me died? I don’t wear Khādī has the patriotism dried?

While rating I realized; why only Independence Day, has my interest dipped for every festival or occasion celebrated in the society? I grazed for a while and realized—it is not only me. I don’t see sky full of kites anymore. I don’t see enthusiasm in 15^th day of August anymore. Does my enthusiasm lies only in a single day of a year? Doesn’t my actions rather than flaunt works for the benefit of my nation?

|Does patriotism only means “that”? Can’t patriotism be not downgrading own country?

My teacher accused me of being driven by the western cult. The one who’s trying to get himself to a Canadian university as a professor warned me for not wearing Capri. Where is the love for India, I bet it is in Canada, no? So how am I supposed to make myself patriotic? Any idea? I can paint my face with tricolour and run around the streets, I can loudly sing Vande Mataram to show my patriotism is above all. Won’t my subtle actions help in progress my nation?

I do not stalk any tourist neither I ask them for their names out of blues. Doesn’t this makes my nation a little above than it actually was for tourists from abroad? I do not spit out venom, unnecessarily. Last time I travelled in DTC I heard intellectuals’ above 50’s overly ranting the nation. A little contribution can help but who cares? Rants are much easily availing medium.

| What I believe is – not making it worse is a part of not degrading.

I do not write on ancient monuments “♥ I love you Shreya ♥”. Monuments are tourist venue and give a great deal of moolah in Indian economy. I don’t write on them hence I do not degrade them. Doesn’t this indirectly say I’m helping my country? Perhaps, I am not economically strengthen enough to contribute in country; oh come on, I’m still a student. I see no reason to crib excessively about the ill-condition of country. Did country asked you to rape it? Excessive crime rate. Did country made you bankrupt? Betting on India-England match did. Did country made it the way it is now? Earlier it was centre of excellent monumental display and now it is all tobacco and pisses marks and smell too. Stop raving when you cannot. (FYI: Yes, this paragraph was meant to hurt.)

A Desktop Affair

In the human life of 60 years, well almost, there comes a time when he has to believe what he sees. Perhaps, what he is seeing is too enigmatic to apprehend but he cannot complain; life has to throw lemons at him according to the rules and going by the SMS he has to ask for Vodka. It is a metaphor by the way but can’t help if you have already started drooling. What if he flunk to firmly grasp the opportunity? His chance to win free Vodka will be spilled on the floor. He will see someone else relishing it—the exotic mocktail now. He gets irked more because GoI had hiked the price of all alcoholic beverages by 15-20%. This is life, sedate but full of camouflage dwelled marvelously with euphemism. It is trivial to resist the impetus; it just burns him from inside.

Life taught me a new lesson. Methodology adopted was next to bizarre. Life dwells in every single thing, literally. I was about to type down my views on the current Indian scenario on my MS Word when it refused to accept the word Suresh Kalmadi, vague of the cause I tried to write it down again but a warning message in display frown me. Any further attempt will lead to corruption in Windows. I rubbed my eyes until I was sure what I am reading is what I am really reading or what I am reading is not what I am really reading but really is. So, MS Word is Kalmadi repellent now, more like Mortein. I expected life to throw something tangy to me. *Sigh* Thinking of the dementia eased my head. Perhaps, Word is afraid of dementia. It can be communicable sometimes, no? I left the word Kalmadi and began with a new post, afresh, with a sole purpose to mock A. Raja and wow his astutely earned few lakh crores. Another warning flashed breaking me into sweat. Word refused to take A. Raja as a word too. What the hell is wrong with MS Word? Reinstalling MS Word too didn’t helped. My desktop has been infected by them and their likes. 

Crazy about a Man-mohan. Are we?

This is a guest post and is written by the one who has invariably amazed me by the way she writes and the grip she holds. Her sharp opinions dwell in her opinionated mind; crisp and perfectly chiseled. I wish I could ridicule like her, but alas! The writer at Freebird, Alka Gurha.

That sex-glamour combo is an effective tool for advertising is known. How then can the political realm remain untouched by it?
In several countries charismatic candidates, mostly male have created followers who display love and adulation for the candidate. Amber Ettinger’s ‘Obama girl’ campaign in 2008 elections was a perfect example. Amber an American actress rose to fame when she acted in a video, ‘I got a crush on Obama’ in which she professed her admiration for the then US Senator, now President.

Visibly, Putin is happy; very happy I say.

On similar lines young women declaring their love for Putin are forming a cult in Russia. Recently, Putin launched his forth-coming Presidential campaign with a video contest where young smart and beautiful girls were asked to tear something off for Putin. So what did young and beautiful girls rip off? Clothes of course! All for their leader, Vladimir Putin. “I am just crazy about a man who changed our country,” said one pretty girl.
Adulation is a natural outcome of decisive, charismatic leadership. And decisive leadership comes from decisive actions. A friend posed a legitimate question, “Will beautiful girls shed clothes for Indian politicians?”

Contest is open for all. Rip in your entries today. Hurry!

The 6 PM Slot

About the Author— 


Author of Indian origin, Naomi Datta daydreams about the perfect bollywood Rom-Com that she will make one day, plays badminton, and updates her facebook status on the hour. That’s when she’s gainfully occupied. She is otherwise a television producer, presenter and film writer. She counts Times Now, CNBC TV 18 and MTV among her employers in a decade long television carrier. She currently freelances and believes she is the best boss she had ever had. Naomi is based in Mumbai and this is her debut novel.


Review—

The 6 PM Slot by Naomi Datta

Welcome to the world of television, where nothing is ever what it appears.

It is refreshing read with a peculiar plot; back office. YTV—Youth TV, as the name suggests a youth channel is dipping with its TRP among the audience. Book opens with a boss wants to see the numbers and graphs on PPT and that too soon. Tanya is the central character; protagonist of the story.


Rahul, plans to defy the laws of show time and decides to launch a love talk show in the 6 PM Slot. His deputy, a swine man Harish questions his idea but then readily agrees. Tanya who was struggling with her carrier at YTV and was responsible for the show on celebrities pet (apparently obsessed) was given this new project of her life time.

Metro-ian Dissection

Have you heard about Metro, Delhi Metro? Metro is one such project that brought grandeur to the name “Delhi Metro Rail Corporation”. Now when it’s a huge success unlike Ready, it brought people closer than they actually are. Now I can land anywhere uninvited, thanks to Metro. Ease had to be compromise; enough facility doesn't sound India, right? A short run is tolerable and can be easily disremembered. Unfortunately I always get rope in an alone voyage which starts giving me melancholics’ soon as I realize the above stated fact.

Are you in this picture? Yes. Congrats, you're famous now.

Invariably irking announcement on metro stations takes my toes off the ground (Even higher than Red Bulls). The blatant announcement turns into a melodious silence when loud speakers goes malfunction. Stentorian musical tones from headphones—some highly intellectual beings have successfully de-bunked new alternatives to make their co-passengers listen Sheela Ki Jawani. Blaring isn't from no-guarantee Chinese cell phone’s extra large speaker, this time it is, maximum volume flaring out from their 3.5mm jack earphones. Suave office goers are the most admired among all. They are calm and fully humanized with a sense of idiosyncrasy. Imbeciles—naam he kaafi hai. Talkative aunties are often discovered amidst congregation of too much talkative aunties. They spare their husband and whirl someone else’s pati parameshwar. Even their Facebook profile lists it as an interest and hobby. Ranting, raving a man without his attention is not an act of bravery, but they are talkative aunties after all, aren’t they?

Gender Blender

Ghulam Nabi Azad. What a gutsy man, no? After Supreme Court rendered its final judgment Ghulam Nabi Azad became sentimental. Damning the Act 377 aside he delivered his own dyslectic point. Ghulam Nabi Azad; I know most of you might have not ever heard his name before this. No, no nothing to be ashamed of, it is natural not to remember any cabinet minister except quite a few.

Something which happens often is called a miracle and Ghulam Nabi sahab made it happen. His comment on homosexuality created an echoing unanimous opinion. India got united, once again after Baba Ramdev, miracle.

Image Courtney- Satish Acharya  

We definitely cannot blame Nabi sahab for calling homosexuality a disease. Why? Silly; it is because every human cannot comprehend everything, easily. Instead of blatantly ranting our honorable health minister, people should have deciphered “other” vague possibilities hyperlink to his statement. After brilliantly linking MSM (Man having sex with man) to HIV/AIDS awareness a plethora of profuse outrage of opinions on social networking soon after the comment was seen. Considering Nabi sahab’s opinion on homosexuality as an unnatural disease I am freighted the most. Another statement from health minister issuing the symptoms of homosexuality is my concern. Is it communicable viral disease which spreads by touching like most of the people think like AIDS spreads?

Medical fact—a disease never shows up immediately. It follows symptoms.

I believe Ghulam sahab is busy in creating symptoms.

Baba Ramdev with his unparallel experience also called it a yoga curable disease. 

I always wonder; do they deliberately make such a statement? Ask me, I’ll say yes. Humans are always credited as attention seekers and as far my knowledge goes “they” are humans. This is the best phase to yell out such opinionated statements since their pinning voice won’t be heard in future. No it’s not apocalypse but the release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows – Part 2 and Twilight – Breaking Dawn are set to make cover page headlines for months.

They cannot enroll for Roadies and Splitsvilla, not because their morale doesn’t allow but the show requirement is beyond their reach. Hence idea dropped. Their vast knowledge is incomparable hence they cannot even take part in any quiz contest. Their modesty holds them back from displaying their sheer knowledge. Their plan to appear on television and motivate people to adopt straightness in life will come to a halt if hence being someone who could efficiently on camera is the reason what they are today to spread their message to the world of tomorrow.

Now tell me, is such an outrage justified? SMS your opinions with "Yes", "Of course" or "Hell yes" to India TV

Open Letter to a Teacher

Disclaimer: Dear reader, if "somehow" you turn out to be my teacher then by no means this letter is written by me. I copied it from the link stated in the end. 

Dear Teacher,

How have you been? I hope everything is good. Although nothing is at my end, majorly because of the project on Robotics that has to be submitted to you by this week. It is giving me sleepless nights. In case you still have not guessed, I am a second year student in your institute. I have somehow gathered some courage to write this letter to you with an anonymous name so that you cannot deduct 5 marks from my internals, again. Although I would have loved to write with my name but I cannot risk losing anymore marks.

I want to divert your assiduity on what actually pupil think. However, before that I would like to tell you that the whole college knows about your affair with Mr. Sharma, our Physics lab assistant. I hereby request you to stop hiding it, and oh BTW you both are so perfect for each other, both with pessimistic thoughts towards your own "humble" students.

Coming back to the topic, this is what I want you to know:

There are two types of teacher in this world.

1. The good ones

2. The mean ones

Nevertheless, you fall in the rarest category the cruelly mean ones. Curious, which ones are these? Ah! Rarest.

Well, we the students have zero affinity towards the methodology of your teaching and always curse the way they check the papers. You brutally deduct marks and nothing ...NOTHING not even our tears move you. We believe that you allot marks based on the class performance, which is wrong. You gave me five marks out of 30 due to low attendance, ignoring the fact that despite your brutal checking I managed to pass, somehow.

Face—Two Face

 

P.S This chat is not in association with Coca Cola, Pepsi, Huggies Diaper, Vicco Turmeric Cream and not even with MDH Masala. 

Lately I have been wondering what I shall write as a blog post and then a fantastic idea struck into my mind. Why should I write a post alone? Interview is the most glorious way to ease the burden. However, I will have to credit the interviewee, hence I asked a "very good friend" of mine to pop up on my blog (like an ad) for an unofficial chit chat.

So Ladies and Gentlemen please welcome the author of a "widely read blog" (That is what she told me) Aura of Sleepless Dreams; Samadrita.

Since Samadrita is so much happy and honoured to be here so let us just skip the sissy formal talks if it is okay with her.

Samadrita - Sure, but how much will you pay me for this post? Oh sorry we'll talk about this later via mail.

Prateek – Samadrita, it is a Bengali name but what I want to know is, the meaning behind it.

 Samadrita- Samadrita comes from the word “Samadar” and refers to a female who is loved and

respected by all. XD Don’t I live upto my name? :P

  Prateek - Oh yes you do. Who knows it better than me. Eh!

Prateek – You have been blogging since 2008. Whoa! How did you stumble upon the thought to blog?

 Samadrita - It wasn’t a conscious decision to get into regular blogging. I just remember reading about a shocking newspaper report on the murder of a 10 year-old for an i-pod and felt the need to share my views somewhere. Before this I had read about how blogging had become a hip new trend for netizens and hence decided to get a blog myself. A platform where I could write and let myself be heard.

From The Diary of a Bullied Husband

17^th June

Dear diary,

Today I am celebrating 2 years of my marital status. For days, I have been conglomerating my thoughts in you. Most of them being rants and ordeals, but from tomorrow everything will change; I will rebuke, and will fly out of her dark and snobbish aura, which had been excruciating me and even my solace for years. Therefore, I will jot a synopsis of my journey from where it all started for the very last time. I am thankful to you for being a mute spectator and listening to me as a friend with a deep sympathy.

Anecdote 

I was an astute man before I got married, I lost all my sharpness; rusted and ditched, “queen of astuteness” bestowed over me. I remember she asked me, “Can you cook?” in our first meeting, what I never knew was; my answer will be taken too literally.

Deceptive

It was a fugitive delight when I got married. Did you notice the word “fugitive?” Soon we moved into our new home that I bought. In addition, that was the time when se unearthed her real self. She was not a zombie but something much more horrific than a zombie is—a sweet talker, aka manipulator (Said in a slow trembling tone) *Heavy Sigh*.

Cliché 

Making me clean the untidy dishes after working for nine straight hours is the most generous act according to her morals. She soon demanded to relinquish my control on the capital expenditure, a full share in my salary. I thought it was a good thing but sending me office with just Rs 200 as a pocket money; what in the world does that means?

I am always treated like I am a Congressmen even though I cast my vote on the name of Behen Mayawati.

Emancipation Seized

Soon she learned how to drive my car; I was force to commute via cycle to my office. She uses car for her own purpose now—parlours visit, stalking Sheila’s (Resident in the adjacent block) place, discovering new malls with 40-60% off hoarding, spa, bakery, etc.

Retro-Day in the Life of Engineer Prateek

| This guest post is written by Anita Menon who blogs at Slice of My Life. A heartfelt thank to her for such an "amazing" post.  

Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction with resemblance to only one living person who is none other than Mr. Prateek Bagri. He invited me to do a guest post for his blog and wanted it to be funny/interesting. This is what I have got! I have used some twitter-related parlance such as tweets and mentions.

Guest Post- Retro-Day in the Life of Engineer Prateek

It was a typical summer day at the “Some Institute of Engineering and Technology” but the campus was exceptionally silent. The leaves rustled across the dust beaten cemented compound of the institute. The heat seemed to sizzle the institute's building and the peon checked his watch again. There was still an hour to go before he could ring the bell and announce the end of the examination. Through one of the windows, he noticed a student glance into his classmate’s answer sheet. He shook his head in repugnance. He had seen this year after year, the faces changed but the habits remained unchanged. Suddenly he heard shuffling of feet on the corridor and turned to look. He didn't expect any student to come out of the examination hall so early. He recognized the familiar face immediately. Thats the Bagri boy!! 

Prateek looked from his cell phone and found the peon staring at him. He just shrugged and started to climbed down the institute’s steps with his eyes still glued to his Sony Ericsson W705. He chuckled to himself while he scrolled down his twitter timeline. People can be unbelievably hilarious, he thought to himself. He tweeted,”Exam over. What a relief!" A second later,  ' Ping', he looked to check and found a mention