Photogeny?

Reema once tagged me to publish some photos of myself. Very carefully, I ignored the request, hoping that she’d forget about it. Then, along came Amit and tagged me again! I couldn’t refuse the same request twice. So, here goes. Four photos of Nikhil, for your viewing pleasure. The captions explain where I am and what I am doing.

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I am the one wearing blue, and I am posing with my colleague, Nirali. We are just outside my cubicle and we were comparing our heights... 🙂
This is me posing as superman. I am quite strong. My colleague, who's sitting on my shoulder, weighs a little less than 61 kilos. I did not drop her.
This is me posing as superman. I am quite strong. My colleague Poojitha, who is sitting on my shoulder, weighs a little less than 61 kilos. I did not drop her.
An old photo, as you can notice from the lack of facial hair. I am posing with a golden brown liquid in a strange-shaped glass.
An old photo, as you can notice from the lack of facial hair. I am posing with a golden brown liquid in a strange-shaped glass. I don't remember where this was taken. Probably Tavern, I'm not sure.
I really work hard. Really. Trust me.
I really work hard. Really. Trust me.

[PS: For all you Hairy Potter fans, the next installment is going to hit the stands very soon! Please be patient. And, if any women find me cute/hot/sexy, please contact me. But please note that MirrorCracked is not a dating site!] 😀

A Man’s Best Friend…

… is not a dog, to put a common misconception to rest. It is, on the contrary, a very nicely-blended mix of scotch and soda, with lots of ice. 😀

I had been to a cocktail-dinner party last night at a seedy pub in a city, which had seen better days and the food left a lot to be desired. I wasn’t dressed appropriately, I had a bad headache, I had no intentions/interest/inclination/mood to attend the party, and yet, I had to go to fulfill certain commitments. Sigh, it’s been such a sad week so far, a week in which I reached a few decisions that I hope are the right ones and avoided a few more than I hope to avoid all my life! 😀

So, anyway, let me not get sidetracked. I’ll come back to the seedy dinner party last night, where I was sitting around, watching the horny cameramen take snaps of those vile and vulgar Page 3 crowd, and thought to myself, “Nikhil, you’re here, amidst a bevy of apparently hot chicks and over-fed, rich men and you’re wearing a dirty white shirt with sweat stains on the sleeves, a pair of trousers that are frayed around every corner and some weirdly horrifying pair of floaters – what’re you missing?”

Pat came the reply – a drink! 😀

I made my way to the crowded bar, where they were giving away free drinks, and I got myself a scotch and soda, and sat back and enjoyed the fake smiles around me. I watched the facade as a couple of dumb publicity hounder chicks in short skirts come up to me and say, “Hey, you are from…?”

I looked at them and said, “No, I am Nikhil,” and gave them my best I’m-not-interested smile.

They got the message and stopped following me around. Every room I entered in that pub, the terribly omnipresent Page 3 crowd was busy hugging complete strangers and getting their photo taken. And the photographers from these cheesy tabloids couldn’t get enough of them! “Get a room,” I wanted to scream out, when I realized that they had!! 😀

Anyway, I came back home around midnight from the party, and the only faithful companion throughout the party was my ever-present glass of scotch and soda. And when on my way back through the hauntingly empty streets of the city at midnight, a pair of dogs chased me, barking their lungs out, for almost two kilometers and that was when I decided that a man’s best friend is not really a dog. Dogs tend to change loyalties the minute someone offers them a juicier bone.

In a way, street dogs and those Page 3 photographers are similar – one is a filthy cross-breed that lurks the streets of town searching for a juicy ‘bone,’ and the other is a street dog! 😀

(Yikes!! Too vulgar?) 😀

Image Courtesy: Soumik
(Sourced from Google Image Results. I do not know this person!)

Roses Are Red…

I have been tagged by RJ to write a love poem. But there’s a catch:

You get transformed to this 4th grade version of you, make the poem ultra cute and super sweet, filled with innocence and write about Love!

I rarely dabble with poetry and I am sure this one’s the most amateurish bit of poetry ever composed. In my defense, I am supposed to be in the 4th grade for doing this tag, so it’s ok. I can live with this humiliation.

This love poem is dedicated to one of the most beautiful woman I have known so far – my dear Ms. Charming, whose smiles light up my day and whose lovely laughter make me want to wake up each day.

Walking along the road of life
I start to think –
Why do I hurt like the stab of a knife
Why do I hate to blink?

Walking along the path to riches
I think I am lonely and sad
Missed chances and too many glitches
I think my luck is really bad.

There you were, waiting for me
You smiled at me and said “Hi”
I lost track of space and time, filled with glee
I never want to say “Bye”

I need your guidance to travel this road
I need your grace to keep me sane
I need you to share my load
I need your smile to light up the lane.

The road is long enough
For us to discover each other
The road is long enough
For us to love each other.

It may seem trivial
It may seem hollow
I assure you it’s not,
When I say I love you.

Apologies for abandoning the rhyme scheme in the last paragraph. I am not a poet! 😀

Time Sheets!!

ecently, the concept of time sheets was introduced at work, and since then, it’s been utter chaos. Well, almost. We are supposed to document each minute we spend in office, fill everything out in an excel sheet, explain what we did and which client we worked on, and at the end of the day, send it across to the team leads. Well, I thought this was a cool idea, and would be an impetus for people to actually do some quality work. But things didn’t go that well with the others.

Some people are vehemently opposed to the idea of documenting their daily routine. One guy in particular, whose name I shall withhold for personal protection, claimed that the time sheet was the management’s way of “spying on us” and that he was “always a rebel and would continue to rebel against everything!” 😀

There was a huge discussion in office about this concept, with members from each team present and voicing their apprehensions and doubts and a few positives. I was sitting back, enjoying them argue and scream at each other. Here’s a little excerpt from the debate:

A: Hey, I think the timesheet concept is cool, and this will help all teams know where they are slacking and how many actual man-hours are being dedicated to each client.

B: No!! This is a disgrace!! I will not enter my time sheet!!

C: Why not?

A: Yeah, why not?

B: I don’t want to be spied on! I do quality work and I will show it in my outcome! I can’t sit and document how I spent my day! No!!

C: Well, I don’t –

B: And moreover, this is a creative industry, not a technical one or a log factory, where every minute can be properly accounted for. I will not do it!!

C: Actually –

A: Hello boss, listen. How will the management come to know that you’ve worked for the proper eight hours that you’re paid for? This is the only way!

B: No!! I will not do it!

C: In that –

A: You’re being stubborn!

B: You’ve seen my friendship, now you’ll see my hatred!!

C: Can I say something?

A, B: Sure

C: I didn’t pee today because I was standing near the printer thinking of how to get my work completed. Because of this timesheets, I can’t think straight.

…….

Well, this went on for a few more minutes before B threatened A and C went to the loo. I was sitting there, laughing my ass off at this hilarious conversation! Ever since I’ve been working, I’ve had to do timesheets and so, this concept isn’t new to me. But, there’s a logic in all this debating – we are in a creative field, with more time spent on thinking new ways to service our clients, and there’s no way we can quantify creativity. However, I think there’s a limit to being a rebel. Rebelling just for sake of doing it is just being plain stubborn! But resistance to change is a lousy excuse, anyway! 😀

Aaargh!!

The past 48 hours have been terrible, to say the least! I am so frikkin frustrated! I am going to take it all out here, venting the steam, ranting and raving about the little injustices of life and the fact that a simple moment of calm can be so elusive! Aaargh! I am so full of shit ..er… er… I mean, I am so full of anger!

Monday started as usual, with the blues and my suicidal mood. I woke up groggily at around 8, reluctantly took a shower, which, unfortunately, woke me up, thus ruining my mood further. I snapped at everyone in the office and was in a lousy mood for most of the day. A long day in the office and at nine in the night, when I reached home, I was in a worst mood of my life. I attributed it to my weekend exploits and the consequent hangover! 😀

Tuesday was slightly better to start off, and got worse as the day wore on. A long, long drive to meet a client, who lived on another planet for all the trouble, and then the drive back in bumper-to-bumper traffic on a stifling, hot day ensured that my mood would be no better than the previous day.

I started pulling my hair out at around 2 in the afternoon, when for the tenth time, the power failed and the computers shut down in the office. At 2.30, when I had around twenty strands of hair on my head, my computer crashed: “Boot Sector Fail” screamed the monitor at me and shut itself down, never to boot again. In my head, I smashed the screen of the computer, smashed the whole computer into tiny pieces, set fire to it and danced around the make-shift bonfire butt naked, singing a native African tribal war song, and then pee’d on the fire. But in reality, I just sat there in front of the computer with a strange smile on my face and humming the African war song softly. My colleagues thought I was nuts. 😀

Then, when I went to smoke, I realized I didn’t have any matches. I walked across the street to buy a box of matches, only to realize that I had left my wallet back at my workplace. I mooched a light of some other loser who was smoking nearby, and went back to the office, and realized that the power had failed again and the AC was not working. I caught a glance of myself in the mirror and the hair on my head looked so promising and pull-able. My fingers itched! 😀

When I finally gave up and left for the day, my long drive back home became longer because the battery in my phone died and I had no music to listen to. The one hour drive from my office to my house became unbearable as the traffic was unnaturally pathetic. Oh, that’s not the end of it. If the day had ended thus, I’d have been happier! I was twenty minutes from my home when the skies opened up with all their fury and drenched me to the bone. The only thing I really hate about riding a bike in heavy rains is the small, irritating puddle of water that accumulates in my underwear, making my squirm in anger! Aaargh!!

I slept as soon as my head hit the pillow and woke up at 4 in the morning today. Great! Add insomnia to the list of disasters! My life sucks, doesn’t it! 😀

When stars pretend to care!

There are very few things that annoy me in life, and right at the top of the small list are celebrities! I hate them. Not that I’m jealous of them or anything, its just that sometimes, they do things that makes me want to throw up in disgust. On screen, I like them; I like their acting and I like the men and women they portray, but off screen, they are just irritating, piss-off people with a bottomless wallet and a bigger ego.

Ok, I can accept it when Britney Spears walks down the road naked and the paparazzi drool on their cameras. I can also accept it (grudgingly) when Tom Cruise talks about Scientology and tries to convince us that we are aliens. But what I can’t really understand is when Brad Pitt tattoos a map of New Orleans on his lower back as a tribute to all the victims of hurricane Katrina! 😀

How is this a tribute to anyone except the poor woman with whom he sleeps every night? Or is he planning to do a Salman Khan and walk around bare chested for the rest of his life? But for god’s sake, a tattoo!!! Now, I’ve seen and heard everything! This is just disgustingly insane!

Celebrities are people who are supposed to smile for the cameras and pretend to act. But all they seem to do is smile and pretend to care. Aamir Khan pretended to care for the “violence affected brothers and sisters” and decided to carry the Olympic torch! I really want to meet his PR agent and shake his hand! 😀

I guess we live in a world where the quirkiest actions are greeted with the most response. I am old school, and I am still trying to grasp the pace at which the world is becoming dumb. 😀

Virginia Tobacco :)

Note: The following post is protected under strict copyright laws, owned by Nam and her Nandu Mama. Copying this material or using it in any context without the explicit written and/or verbal permission of both the owners is punishable by the just laws of the glorious country of Sheikla Abbu. The following is not a true story, however, any resemblance to any person or animal, living or dead, has been included deliberately after a great deal of procrastination. Thanks to Nam for keeping me awake last night with this fascinating tale of deception, treachery and greed. I would have dozed off if it weren’t for her. 🙂

Once upon a time, in an imagination far, far colorful, lived a Sheik who ruled over the glorious country of Sheikla Abbu. He had a thousand camels and a thousand horses and a thousand elephants and a thousand ten wives. He had an enormous palace, where he used to spend time with his wives and eat the best food in all of Abbu, drink the finest wine, listen to the best music and dance to the best tunes. He was also a bit greedy.

The Sheik was an accomplished warrior, who had conquered his enemies far and wide and wanted to expand his kingdom even more. So, against the wishes of his wives and wise men, he set out, leading his huge army south, to the kingdom of Virginia. This name is not to be confused with its namesake in the USA. He led the army through blistering deserts and freezing nights, and finally reached the doors of the castle in Virginia. They had been traveling for a thousand days and all were tired, including the Sheik.

He knew that if he declared war in his state of fatigue, he would lose terribly. So, he extended a hand of friendship to the ruler of Virginia, who gave the Sheik a pack of Virginia Tobacco, as a gesture of good faith. This is where our story kicks off into a bizarre world of madness. For two years he completely forgot about this packet of cigarettes in his possession, and went about his daily routines. Once, while cleaning out his writing desk, he found the unopened pack of Virginia Tobacco lying there, under a heap of death warrants.

Curious to try it out, the Sheik took out a cigarette from the pack and took a drag from the sweet tobacco, he could hear someone counting – “One, Two, Three, Four, Five…” in his ear, loudly. He looked around him, astonished at seeing no one, and yet, the voice was very clear in his mind. Someone had counted loudly and he had heard them! So, in his confused rage, he ordered the heads of all his guards to be chopped off.

The next day, when he was sitting on the banks of the river, he took out another cigarette and started smoking it. As soon as he took the first drag, he could bear someone counting again – “Five, Six, Seven, Eight…” and this time, the voice seemed to be very near to him. He looked around, and finding no one, ordered all his animals to be beheaded. No one dared to question his madness when he was in one of his rages. He sat back down and took another drag of the cigarette. Again, as before, he heard counting in his head – “Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen…” and he got really really freaked!

He started stripping down his robes, thinking that there could have been some sort of black magic going on. As he removed his shirt, something fell down to the ground. It was the pack of Virginia Tobacco. He picked it up and for the first time, read what was written on the pack.

“Virginia Tobacco: The Tobacco That Counts!” 😀