Letter to Mr MNS

Letter to Mr MNS

(If undelivered, please make copies and distribute around the city. Should reach the effer some day)

Not-so-dear Mr MNS,

I feel great regret to inform you that I have to write to you (of all people) about few happenings in the city I call Bombay. I hate it that I have to write to you, someone I would never ever like to keep any relations with...Not even of a letter sender-recipient!

I take great pride in informing you that firstly, there were terror attacks in many places in South Bombay, which included places of heritage value. Secondly, the rescue operations at the Taj and Oberoi hotels and Nariman House were carried out by (mostly) creatures you call ‘North Indian’. I hate to even make that distinction, but what to do you only understand the language of discrimination.

I’d also like to bring to your notice that I openly REFUSE to call myself a Mumbaikar (I never did, even before this). I am and will always remain a Bombayite. Sounds more sophisticated and classy. Unlike u!

Also apart from informing you about certain important happenings of the city you hold ransom to more often than not, I’d also like to ask you a few questions.
Questions a journalist’s heart can’t keep inside.
So I shoot here…The questions of course…

Where the fcuk were you and your Sena cowards when the whole rescue operation was underway?

Were you even aware of the attacks in the city?
(Let me give you the benefit of doubt. May be you thought it was happening in Bombay not Mumbai, so I understand you just shut the fcuk up and played cricket in your lane. In any case, I’ve informed you about the same).

Okay. All forgiven.

Did you have the urge to drive out the ‘North Indian’ commandos playing against life and death to save lives of fellow ‘Indians’ and foreigners alike?
Why the double standards, Mr MNS?

What gives you so much courage to fcuking come at public rallies and make provocative statements when you can’t even open your bloody mouth to console the families suffering coz of cowardly acts?

Aren’t you also, when you go on rampage killing ‘outsiders’, a terrorist?

I hope these questions will find their way to your conscience and get themselves answers we all Bombayites are dying to hear.

Also, let me take this opportunity to bestow on you few awards. All Bombayites have nominated you coz no other idiot could vie for any. You won, hands down, Mr MNS! Congratulations!

Do accept. The whole of Bombay will be grateful and pleased.

Award for the Most Coward Politician

Award for the Most Impotent (how I love this word) Local Terrorist

Award for the ‘Man’ (I have a doubt) ) holding Bombay for ransom the maximum times

Award for the ‘Man’ with no better work to do than change names of everything ‘he’ sees

Award for the Most Shameless Creature on Planet Bombay
(I even hate to acknowledge you as part of Planet Earth, Hope Planet Bombay gets rid of you sooner than they expect to).

Award for the Most Unnecessarily Violent Politician

Award for Serial Rioter

Half an hour too late

Endless notes, hate messages, abuses etc. have been hurled in retaliation to the grenades hurled by impotent bastards ambushed in close-to-heritage structures like the Taj, Oberoi’s, and Nariman House. The recent inhumane terror attacks have left us with a cocktail of emotions that change every passing second. My heart and mind have been raped several times over thinking of what if I was there at VT station when the gratuitous firing took place. Just half an hour too late. I thank my stars and all in between, to have reached home safe and sound on an unusual Wednesday which could have been the last issue shutting of my life (I work for a weekly travel magazine which we put to bed every Wednesday). Almost every week, by the time we shut the issue it’s 10pm or plus.

Just before leaving office at 8.30pm that day (November 26, 2008) I said to my Editor, “We’ve shut quite early today?”

To which he answered, “Most of the pages were done yesterday itself, only cover story was left to be done.”

That question and answer will be etched in my memory forever, as it will serve as the reason for my survival in the attack. All happens for a reason.

So many could have been lucky, like me, to have taken an unusual decision, an unusual call that might have saved what they could have gone through otherwise.

But most others, including some brave officers could not live to see the operation complete. All salutes, all respect, too all U deserve it…

Many thanks to the supernatural power for keeping me alive to write this little note of thanks…the power that controls time, the power that ran half an hour late…

Of chors and chappals

Have you ever been robbed off? Robbed off something you like dearly? Something that makes a perfect pair with its better half?

I’m not waiting for you to answer. Coz Im sad enough and ready to narrate my story of loss. You are allowed permission to sympathise with me. Sympathies accepted for… for… the robbery of … of …A CHAPPAL! Yes, its not an error. I know my grammar well. You read right. I was robbed off ONE chappal on our very own local trains. Read on to find out how!

It’s no nayi baat that lakhs of nameless, expressionless faces take the Bombay local to go places. One of those documentary days Joss-naa, Nad-loo and I took a train from Grant Road to Churchgate. A matter of three stations. By the way, a lot can happen over three stations. (sowwie this is lifted and modified Café Coffee Day tagline). Haan, lets go on.

Afternoon trains have few scattered commuters. The moment I hopped onto the train, I took my Blue Oshos and put my feet on the seat. (Strictly not recommended, firstly, it’s unlawful and most importantly dangerous). My two friends got busy checking stuff, typically girly things, earrings, fancy clips, the works! Their chatter with the vendor girls faded as I got busy over the phone. Seven minutes passed and it was time to get off. I, mechanically put my feet down to get ready to get down… Ehhh ??? My feet, for the very first time, felt the pricks of the rough train floor! Where the Eff were my Oshos?

I thought it was some sick prank Joss-naa was playing on me. But how could she multitask so well and flick my CHAPPALS and at the same time go through all that girly shit she was going through! I looked around. And so did Nad-loo and Joss-naa. The train looked haunted for a while! Few seconds into the search, one of the vendor girls threw one of my Oshos at me. Wow! Now how did she get the damn thing? By now I had attracted enough unnecessary attention of amused co-commuters. They all felt I was outta my brains and one woman even asked if I wore BOTH the chappals when I left home! Duhh!!! Amusement turned into sympathy in less than a few seconds!

Frantic search for the lost CHAPPAL was like a mission I had given Joss n Nad and some commuters had volunteered for. Minutes passed. But there was no trace of the ‘lost’ chappal.

It was time for the train to leave for its destination, yet again. Before I could sit and cry and embarrass my dost log, they volunteered to go buy me a new pair. Interviews are not always conducted with half a chappal, especially an interview that was fixed after much gidd giddaaing before the Railways authorities.

Hopping on one leg, I got off the train. Nad-loo maintained all the while that the vendor girls were trying to act smart by hiding my chappal. She even said its their plan to take the chappals once I leave the other one also in the train.

Believing Nad was easy. You tend to believe a blondie in such trying times, a blondie who talks sense lesser than Mallika Sherawat’s clothes!

A badley ki bhaavna rakhnewali chudayl that I am… I decided, if the chappal cannot be mine forever it cannot be anyone else’s!

I stood on one leg, laughing and giggling alone as Joss n Nad ran to save themselves of cheap publicity me and my robbed chappal was about to give them. Unable to control myself, I laughed out loud at times I felt there were not many people watching me. One lady kept staring at me. Her eyes shouted, “Poor thing, bhari jawani mein paagal ho gayi.”

Those 25 minutes were killing and hilarious at the same time. Wanted to call someone and talk, at least less people would think I had lost my brains bhari jawani mein. What the hell! All phones bloody unavailable on the damn day! My laughter mixed with prayers that I get a new pair in the least of seconds were stirring a cocktail of the weirdest flavour inside of me.

And the time came. Ahhh! Finally! Joss and Nad got me a new pair of chappals that replaced my beautiful Blue Oshos L.

Yes, my dear friends this is my story of the robbed CHAPPAL!

Some questions about the incident still remain unanswered.

What would the robber do with ONE chappal (now that I had not left the other as the saala/saali chor/chorni expected)?

Why meeeee and my ‘beautiful Blue Oshos’????

Did I teach the robber a lesson by not leaving the other pair?

Was the whole chori a part of an organised crime network?

Do these girls selling stuff do such choris often to mentally and physically harass commuters wearing ‘beautiful Blue Oshos’?

Was it to teach me a lesson not to keep my feet on the seat henceforth?

Whatever the answers (I’m not expecting any), the chori will always remind me of loss, loss of something I liked dearly. An experience not the whole of humanity has!

Moral of the story: Do not keep your feet on the train seat (with or without footwear). With footwear you might end up dirtying your own butt (or at least someone else’s). Without footwear you might end up being another Blessy!

Chaddi's Secret

In case any of you thought this blog would deal with stuff to do with underwear (and its cousins) let me inform you right in the beginning … You won’t find any of that! This is a dedication to the name Chaddi, I have earned after hard work (that was not so hard) of all these years.

My blog is called Chaddi aur Baniyaan for reasons galore. The latest being, one of my closest buddies calls me “Chaddddeeeeeee” (with all the screeching) and she thinks its cute! So this makes us true “Chaddii Buddiis.”

To go back in history, padosis called me Mowgli, when I was young…Reason… Lanky, tall, dark kids jumping around the place in yellow or red chaddis can be easily be mistaken for the Jungle Book character. Hopping into homes of one neighbour to the other in chaddis only stopped after I entered secondary school ie. ClassV (roughly around the age of 11). Mom thought I had to be taught some chaddi manners. The padosi kids, as sharp as their parents, did not fail to identify me as Rudyard Kipling’s hero, not to mention the huge, hedge-like, fluffy, wavy (running outta adjectives) hair that made me exactly like the ‘chaddi pehna hua khila phool’.

Its quite embarrassing when one padosan aunty calls me Mowgli in public, till date.

One more reason, I have been called Chaddi was the resonance of my real surname with chaddi! Chettiar becomes Chaddikaar (When Mom’s Goan folks say it). And to cut it short, it becomes Chaddi again! Wow! Just realised what a chaddi bhari zindagi I lead! Phew!

My Chaddi secret is not secret anymore (just like Victoria’s secret is not Victoria’s anymore!) Just like ‘Agar tum…agar tum… Rupa ki underwear pehnogey…toh… toh… Rupa kya pehnegi ??? (Sadd I know and as old as Rupa herself!)

Tracking The Tracks

Three months or so... I don't remember...Ya that was the time given to us to do a documentary on a "Contemporary Issue"... And btw that was the name of the subject too...

Ok let me talk about what all BMM has made us do n go through in three years, at least the projects part of it. We were given a (or many) project each subject... Professors thought all that they could not do all their life could be done through us ...Just like those over-ambitious parents who push their little selves to do activities (or not-so-activities) that they did not get a chance to do when they were little!
These professors gave projects that sounded even vague than sad than Atal Behari's talks! But the more sporty and able people like me (thank-u thank-u) took it ...well...sportingly n embarked on a journey to get the task done (for those thankful to the internet) ...or rather do it ourselves!!!

Okay I think that is brief enough a description to know what we little children of God have had to go through during our learning days...

The day Avkash Sir announced in November (the beginning of the final semester) that we had to form groups of 6 was the day the "extended holidayers” hadn't arrived from Diwali holidays of course! And the "over smart" ones did form groups with all those smarties of the class....

I knew my group had to have Joss--naa and Nad—loo (actual names withheld because I do not want them to get publicity :P)... And I was more than happy to have them as group mates coz Nad--loo was my partner for the two years we were together in BMM ...n Joss--naa was that woman who always came to my rescue during “Desperate” times. Also, we did projects together in Third year... So two people you know and have worked with are always the best people to work with yet again. Believe me...I’m talking from real experiences...

But my dreaded fear was the rest half of the group ...Who would they be? Would they be as hard-working as us or hardly working as those many group less ones? Or will they be some "oversmarties" who will always underestimate our efforts and not let us suggest ideas which could actually work out?
Gosh!!! Those moments were killing me n Joss--naa...and killing Nad--loo a bit too much...as she happens to be the more hyper-active element in the trio...I will write one whole post only describing the two working personalities of the group i.e. Joss--naa and Nad--loo ...

Haan, so listen naa...Finally the week after that day had arrived and by now we dreaded the members who would most likely be in our group. It was a nightmare come true to know that the Three Bimbettes were going to be a part of US for the next few months... But it happened and it happened for a reason... A reason that made us stronger persons- persons who could hit back and tell the opposite character" Hey look, I'm not going to take this shit from u!"

The Bimbettes (names withheld for protection of identity) spoke of only "Contemporary Issues” like...Which is the hottest pub around town?
Are you still dating that jerk?
But why the hell do people wear their underwear over their pants? and the likes...

Or may be we can name them according to height (I like to put things in context you see..)

Bimbette 1

Bimbette 2

Bimbette 3

We knew it right from the beginning that we had to be strong enough and smart enough to double up and thus make up for the loss in group mates.

The working on the project was delayed by a month as we thought 3 months was a lot of time to start working... But finally we did start... making calls , fixing appointments, being hung up on, being treated as we were just a piece of shit who had all the time in the world to wait until the appointment was fixed...and so on...

But I have to admit there were some people like Ram Naik's secretary who did go out of his way to make sure we got the interview that weighed heavy on the documentary.

The Trackers kept tracking the Tracks while the Bimbettes discussed who had dumped who.
We became the support of one another, discussing and brainstorming, putting our little God-given brains to the test...

The rounds to Churchgate station's 2nd floor to take appointments from the top notch of MRVC (Mumbai Railway Vikas Corporation) were fun and Joss--naa made sure that everyone else was knew that she's Mallu so that the work got done faster... These Mallus naa...really just show off their roots wherever they can...No offences to anyone in particular (esp. Tia)

The interview with that SWEET fellow from MRVC went well. With Joss--naa behind the cameras I jabbered showing off how much I knew about our trains. And Nad--loo making squiggly notes that not even God has been able to comprehend! But we appreciate that coz she actually made it a point to type out those crow legs (that is if she herself did understand) and mail it to me and Joss--naa...
The interview was deceitful as we assured them that our film wanted to show how much the authorities were doing for the people... But the end product told the exact opposite story.., but who cares, we never bothered to let them know what a bad picture we had painted of them through our creative heart of the commuter. Btw Joss--naa so hated that woman who promised us a picture garden and made her go all the way to Churchgate and finally ended up giving her just one picture of the new train! Such unfruitful trips were many... But we saw through them all...

Some of the days just went by when we did everything that was nothing. Then came the week then we had to pull up our socks up to our chests and start working...
Oh shit...almost forgot about the Bimbettes! Anyway they did not do anything that I can really talk of!

The Ram Naik (Ex-Minister of the Railways) interview day was particularly memorable as that was 13th of Feb, the day Raj Thackeray decided to earn some cheap publicity by getting himself arrested. As expected the MNS activists burned down a few people and a few buses too. The Bimbettes decided to stay away (not that they were very keen on interviewing an 80+ old chap)fearing they would be burned down and that their Pepe undies might get damaged!!!

Joss--naa, Nad--loo and I made it through the crowd, unhurt, unbruised and in one piece. It is not easy to sit in an influential politician's office when his rival is out on the streets taking people by their collars and driving them out of the city! After the one and half hour wait we finally got to meet a politician resembling our parish Santa. Like all Santas he was sweet enough to make us comfortable and also give us ‘chai’ (which no one really offers in Bombay, unless you are doing some work of the giver). Joss-naa did not drink that ‘chai’ anyway, handling the camera, keeping it straight for 45 minutes continuously is not always easy, she says. One is deprived of free ‘chai’ in the process of playing camera person.

And we asked Ms Nad-loo to keep shut in such dangerous times because when she opens her mouth to talk any local language you are sure that the state governments have been incompetent in making it compulsory to learn the local language. Even if you do understand what she is trying to say she reminds you of those stereotypical Catholic aunties from Bandra portrayed in Bollywood who’ve just landed from the USA. Nad-loo is one citizen of the country any politician would be ashamed of, all this when she opens her mouth to speak anything but English!!!

The interview (Ram Naik thought) was dragging too much. So we decided to call it quits, but only after Naik had finished his quota of the self-obsession speech for the evening. By the end of it we knew everything he did, even before we were born, like the back of our hand. Joss—naa was happy as she could now say “See see, I’m not the only one who is self-obsessed in this world. Ram Naik too is.”

I think that was quite an experience. Later came more interviews and more self-obsession. Everybody seemed to have done “a lot” to help the poor commuter. But nothing seemed to be ever enough. The list of demands kept becoming longer and longer like the queue outside Worli’s Passport Office.

Finally the week came when all our efforts would be beaded together to make that beautiful necklace called…what the hell? We did not have a name for the documentary until few hours before the submission!!!

Now comes the time when actual ‘credit’ can be given to Bimbette 1 when she actually used that little rusting brain in her little body to get us an editing studio where the precious necklace would take shape and form.

Not that they sat through all those tiring nights at the studio. Even if they did it was out of fear of being left out or intentionally forgotten while giving credits in the documentary. Not that we did not realise these hidden agendas, we were genuinely dying to make them work coz they hadn’t done anything since the beginning!!! Though we lacked the guts to tell all we felt (and also what we did not) about them.

I distinctly remember that night when Nad-loo and I travelled from that secluded Andheri East area at about 2 in the morning and how she asked me to pray 3 Hail Mary’s with her (she continued to recite all the prayers she learned in 20 years of her life while I got busy on the phone). Finally we got a rickshaw (only after carefully inspecting the rickshaw).

to be contd....................