Tongue In Chick

It was 9 am and one could hearing roaring from Mishraji’s house. Knowing that Mishraji is rather anti-anything-that-growls (read animals, particularly pets), one wondered what was the cause and who was growling.
The scene was unfolding on the verandah, which was funny because Mishraji has always believed, “Dirty linen is for private washing madame, else you will write about it.” Well, he sure thinks HE has an interesting life!
Anyway… so the scene was such that Mishraji was bellowing at his youngest son (not the one who recently got married). Apparently Mishraji wanted his son to “get out” of Orkut, Facebook, Hi5, Linked.In and every other possible social networking site. The son was roaring because while he had agreed to pull out his profile from Orkut, he wasn’t ready to give up on the others.

“But Daddyji, it’s my social life!” he roared.
“Nonsense. You are always sitting on the Internet. What social?” bellowed Mishraji.
“That’s how you meet people in this world!” son roared.
“All those people who will kidnap you and ask me for Rs 2 crore,” supplied Mishraji and for a minute one panicked, wondering if he perhaps reads ibnlive.com…
“Arre Daddyji, no one will kidnap me. They know you don’t have so much money,” countered son.
“Yes but if we mortgage the house…?” replied Mishraji at which the son looked at him incredulously.
Then pointing at yours truly said, “Even She uses social networking sites. It has not harmed her. Ask HER!”

“Madame,” asked Mishraji and his tone told one that unfortunately his earlier-target-for-the-day has just shifted from son to me. “Do you do social networking?”

One would have launched into the benefits of social networking when Mishraji added, “I know, I know. You work in the Internet, sitting, typing all day. You would want everyone to become like you. But hamare zamane main bhi dosti hoti thi, and we didn’t need Internet and our friends lasted for years and did not kill.” Before we could argue, gentle Mrs Mishraji steppedout of the house with chai for Mishraji. “Have you checked your computer-letter? Didi has written anything?” she asked of the Youngest Son. He pointed to Mishraji and said, “I will read if Daddyji will let me log on without standing behind my back, staring into my monitor… He thinks I am going to be kidnapped!”

“Uff, kya bolte hain aap!” she scolded Mishraji rather sweetly and in the hato-ji sort of way that had both Mishraji and me blushing. While it was a romantic blush for Mishraji (one was shocked to see it), yours truly was blushing because tenderness in an aged couple is very heart-warming… and a very private interaction to observe. The older generation is not the “likes public displays of affection” sort, you see.

And as one still-grappled with the idea of a romantic Mishraji – the US of A had done something to him – Mrs Mishraji continued, “Arre, you worry just like that. Children today can decide for themselves. Yes, some of them… I wish, understood more and were more careful; but they are a thinking generation. And then, we are there to tell them right and wrong...” At that the son winked at me, smiled at his mother and without so much as a glance at his father, ran inside. His mother followed, smiling.

Mishraji stood there with his chai, looking thoughtful. “But batate kahan hain… They don’t talk to us. If we knew the problems, we could help. But they don’t talk to us anymore… They social network and make killing friends. The Internet took our kids,” he said and shaking his head walked away.

Original appears here

Labels: cheeky tongue, ibnlive.com, jhoomur bose, Mishraji, tongue in chick

With some of the prettiest women in the country being the face of the brand, rank newcomer and only-two-months-in-the-city, 24-year-old Amrit Maghera sure has pulled a big one. The pretty lady is officially the new face of cosmetic brand Lakme.

Wanting to know more, we called her in Mumbai: Amrit answers the phone on the first ring and her voice is fresh and heavily accented. Having grown up in UK, it’s not a surprise. However, one wonders how much time it would take her to learn Hindi. Before she gets busy with a tight sched, Hindi classes and work, a quick chat...

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The biggest problem with us Indians; is our big mouths. We talk too much. But when it comes to action, we're too tired from all that talking to really do anything about anything. Or, we come up with the most ridiculous suggestions.

Like the brilliant suggestion our ministry* of (god knows whose) welfare has come up with to solve the burgeoning population and HIV crisis (we are number two and three in the world respectively). Apparently, the best way to fight the problem is to introduce - hold your breaths people (ha, ha) - paan-flavoured condoms.

(*While the government is not directly involved - the condoms are being launched by a private body - any such product release will require government approval)

Apparently, it's a preference for paan that has led to conclusive conclusions that paan-flavoured condoms will work where other condoms have not. By that logic, and given the figures for tobacco-consumption, wouldn't a gutkha-flavoured one work better? Or bidi?

So these condoms are "by and for sex workers"... but isn't that like saying that the HIV/AIDs problem is only DUE to the sex workers? What about the non-sex, corporate workers, the educated fools who don't use a condom? Can we perhaps hope for single-malt-flavoured condoms for alcoholics, tofu-ones for the health-conscious and sugar-free ones for the diabetics as well?

Let me make it clear: Anything that promotes the use of condoms is a commendable move. But does that necessarily mean... paan?

We always seem to come up with the most brilliantly convoluted solutions. Earlier we had vibrating condoms launched that ran into controversy. Apparently, since the condom vibrated and gave pleasure - and that's supposed to be bad when having sex - it 'technically' became a sex toy and not a condom. Think about it, in a country where buying a condom creates a scandal, we are expecting people to go up to the chemist and say, "Bhaiyya, can I have that vibrating-wala condom." Sure, very convenient.

How about using better quality latex so that the condoms don't feel as, well, rubbery" Or for that matter, have some government chemist shops with women at the counters: Makes it much easier for a lady to buy condoms instead of having to deal with three smirking attendants. But no, all we can think of, is paan.

Funny, sometime back, we also saw the launch of the female condom: Cumbersome, comes in a box that looks like it would bite and costs more than Rs 40 for ONE condom. As Mrs Mishraji (my neighbour's wife who has some surprisingly sharp observations, strangely only when Mishraji is not around) put it when we were discussing the women-buying-condoms issue, "Arre ji, 20 litres of bottled drinking water costs Rs 60 and here one condom is so expensive. If it was re-usable maybe then..."

PS: HIV/AIDS is a HUGE and LIVING problem in our country. Friends, colleagues, you, me: everyone, anyone is vulnerable. And it's not just through sex -- there are needles, blood transfusion, cuts... Government and NGOs working towards awareness and thereby prevention -- am afraid the only ways right now -- have a VERY tough time doing their jobs in helping people. The aim of this article is NOT to look down upon efforts. However, good intentions and fancy-shmancy projects are not going to help us.

Originally appears here

Labels: condom, HIV, ibnlive.com, Indians, jhoomur bose, Mishraji, what goes my father

Our story is the final chapter in the long-running battle for supremacy between good and evil and is based in the clandestine media school, The School of Plagiarism and Bitchcraft. Our protagonists are final year media students there and are forever embroiled in a war to either become a Jhola Journalist (those who supposedly uphold truth) or a Suspect Stinger (those who supposedly uphold everything but the truth).
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Labels: hari puttar, harry potter, jhoomur bose, media

Yo all, Was checking search engines when I found that desipundit.com had linked one of my (non)official blog post's. Hmm.

The original post appears here.

Labels: desipundit, jhoomur, jhoomur bose, life, new delhi, single woman, what goes my father