The festive season/Finally beaten

With Ganesh Chaturthi start the festivities in our country. There's Navratri that follows culminating in Dussera, then there is Eid, Diwali, Another Eid (I think), Christmas and finally New year celebrations. And aren't these great times? Yes, for most. Not when you have middle class problems like mine. Read on.

The idea of celebration is usually blaring music, crackers, colours, dancing and if you can't afford a DJ bring on those massive drums that have a 4 feet diameter and whack them with 2 feet of bamboo sticks to make the loudest possible noise. And then do it again. It actually begins to sound like a beat now. Too add to that get a few massive cymbals and plonk them against each other in a random but repetitive fashion. I even saw a bunch whacking empty oxygen cylinders with a hammer to make the noise a lot louder. I must mention, they were extremely successful and noisy. I guess some people do celebrate that way (it's like how some people blast music in their cars or houses or both). But frankly, I will never understand it. Especially because I'm generally intolerant towards noise and mostly because I'm not FUCKING DEAF and my car alarm goes off way too often when this happens. Last night, I swear, I hoped the battery would just die so the car would stop going "cheeen cheeen"! This went on till 2:00am (way past my bed time). My other problem is that I now started imagining it went off again in my sleep. Which meant, I kept waking up almost every 3 minutes. Okay, maybe it was 7. Or 12. Fine, 20 minutes but that's the last.

Don't get me wrong. I love festivals. I love the colour and music it brings. But I have to say, the dances are just wrong. Skinny guys, sticking their tongues out and trying to do a Micheal Jackson hip thrust (while grabbing their crotch, in some cases the crotch of guy next to them) is not an attractive sight at all. The worst sight is when a fat guy shows up and starts looking for his crotch and then his skinny friends (with the tongue still stuck out), try to help him. Finally, they just use iPhone 5 maps and start feeling up a random fat lady's bottom. But it's festival mood so she doesn't mind till the noise stops. Then she realises both her hands are raised in the air (in some weird form of dance) and yet her bum is being touched and she doesn't remember the last time another living thing touched her buttocks and turns around and slaps the first skinny guy she sees. And then the noise starts again. There's a crowd murmuring that now fills the air with two sides explaining how the omnipresent buttocks got touched. It results with cop cars with blaring sirens arriving at the spot and announcing on loud speakers for the crowds to "chill out". But bums have been touched, and bums will be broken for that. This is 2:00am and one of them gets bumped against a certain car that goes "cheeen cheeen". Suddenly we have a winner. The crowd disperses and I am still awake hoping the battery will die with this occurrence. Finally I lay my head down on a soft pillow but with an overworked brain. I'm filled with imagination of it going off every 20 minutes (as agreed earlier) that does not let me sleep. I hear it loud and clear at 6:00am again, possibly when the guy came to wash the car. I didn't sleep at all since.

At 9:00am after a long cold shower that washed off the memories of a haggard arse getting unnecessary attention, I took my car to a Maruti showroom and told them to whatever it took to let me sleep in peace. A little guy walked out, opened the bonnet of the car and pulled a little plug (the size of one of those skinny boy's little toe nail) and I was sorted. It took him 10 seconds to put me out of my misery. I would not have noticed any thing had I decided on this a day earlier. Also, he did it for free. I accept defeat to that fucking alarm. It's caused too much trouble now and I'm happy it's gone.

I looked out of the window today only to see a woman with an enormous behind almost crushing my right rear view mirror. But I can handle that, I can.

Home bound!

I've quit my job in Bombay and am heading back home to Pune, again. After 2 years and 7 months. During this time, I can count the number of weekends I've spent in Bombay; 5. Not that I don't like Bombay, but I think I just love Pune way too much. A certain person did ask me why I wanted to quit and I told her that it was because I didn't get a promotion (and no one is even talking about when it'll happen) after slogging my behind for the last year and a half and managing (awesomely, from the feedback) some of the most difficult work this organisation had seen. She said I wasn't promoted because I wasn't "mature" enough!! Funny thing is, that I now have offers from two organisations much bigger (in Pune, to add salt to injury) asking me to join with a promotion and a super salary hike.

Bombay..

Without a doubt, the most crazy city I have witnessed up till now. I may see something crazier, but having seen New York and London, I seriously doubt it. To be honest, Manila (I feel) was crazier than London, and wasn't even a little blemish on Bombay's madness. Bombay probably brought out the best in me because people here are just amazing. You can understand why she is the commercial capital when you see how crazy the people here are at work. And I'm talking about people from all over the country that come here (including Dilliwalas - may be cause there's no daddy here.. hehehehe). People here have no time and yet they have the heart the size of Bombay. I've met some of the nicest people in my working career here and I do believe they'll be friends for life. I will always love Bombay and she will be my best teacher.

Immature me..

This has got to be a classic.

When I decided it was time to go, it was only because I didn't get recommended for a promotion (forget getting rejected after being recommended). I wasn't even told when I should really expect to get a promotion. The irony is, these are the same people that almost threatened me from taking up (what I think) would have been a awesome job in Manila (with that "immature" promotion), saying that I was making a huge "blunder" (I hope they understood the intensity of the word) and that I would never see the face of the team I'm in if I picked it. I hadn't intended on moving permanently anyway and either way, I'm sure they would have have elephants waiting to carry me home if I decided to come back. They will deny it of course saying that they didn't even try to retain me. Yes, they did not try to retain me. Only because they couldn't match anything I was getting. 1. Pune, 2. The salary (didn't really matter, but it will be awesome) and 3. A PROMOTION (on offer from 2 companies much much larger. I guess they must be immature too). The comeback line was "That's a shit company". My point was, "As compared to who? Us? Then they're still super kick ass at the moment".

I have principles. And unfortunately in this story I was the only one. I will someday write a detailed story on my joining experience (which was enormously crap). But I'll hold on to that for a few weeks. Maybe then I can even take names! Hahahahaha.

Pune..

I'M COMING BACK!! How I missed her because of how much I know her.

I love everything about this city and everything loves me back. I'm happy to be "immature" in Pune, but I know I'll still look good. Peace descends on me when I come back every weekend. Most people in Bombay can't even understand the spirit we people from Pune have. They cannot understand why anyone would want to travel every weekend 200 kilometers to a little town. And I know several people that do this every week. The thing is only people from Pune can appreciate it. We may not have party places open till 2 am but we have good weather and big balconies to sit and drink till the early hours of the morning without having sweaty genitals! We may not have shit 'home delivered', but we can take a good walk (without being run over) to the grocery store, breathing cool breeze.  In a nutshell, I'm happier in Pune than anywhere else. I'm often told Pune is a laid back city for work, but mostly by people that don't have the cojones to come over and live a day and understand, we're far fucking ahead! I love Bombay yes, but Pune will always be my soul mate.

P.S.

"You're making a big blunder".
"Why"?
"Because you don't know what you're getting into".
"But I'm sure I want to do this".
"No. I THINK, you are not sure".

These are reasons why people leave.

Don't. Just Don't.

Next time someone tries to stamp their authority (in general, not necessarily on me), I'm certainly going to tell them this little true story.

25th September was the 7th day of Ganesh Chaturti (Ganpati festival). It was a Tuesday. I need to give you some back ground on this story so you can see how it crumbles perfectly along at the end.

I came back to Bombay on Sunday from Pune with my niece (who is 25 and hates being called my niece) and her friend. We bought a bottle of water along the way and when we reached Bombay, the girls just left this bottle in the pocket of the seat cover behind my (the driver) seat. I did not know this. Monday was an interesting day 'cause there were a whole load of cops outside the building who weren't particularly happy about people leaving or entering the area. I'm not sure why and I'd rather not say what I heard was the problem. So I just worked from home, while my car baked in the (newly returned) Bombay heat.

Tuesday morning on my way to work I dropped off my shirts at the laundry and told the chap I'd pick it up in the evening. When I got to office, I realised it was the 7th day of Ganpati and there would be a visarjan (immersion) happening in the evening. Since, I stay right opposite the Charkop Lake in Kandivali, Bombay, that meant I needed to leave office by about 5:30pm to make sure I don't get stuck in traffic and more so in a mob of people dancing on the road as if they were possessed by the spirit of Micheal Jackson. Hundreds of people would soon descend right outside my building to immerse the Ganesh idols. So I left office and reached home by about 6:00pm and on my way, I stopped over at the laundry. The chap wasn't expecting me back so early, so he asked me to come back later. I parked the car around the corner of my apartment complex and got home to finish of some work. Now, the car I have is a K10 Alto (not the fancy type, but does the job really well), and it has a security alarm that works overtime. It goes off even when a dog so much takes a piss next to it. I'm not exaggerating, and you can even put it to test if you want. And it's effing LOUD!

I decided to walk across to the laundry at about 8:45pm (before Masterchef Australia Season 4 starts) to pick up my shirt. I felt the urge to pee by the time I started making the walk, but I was too lazy to go back up 4 floors and then walk back again. It was going to take 5 minutes anyway, or so I thought. This is where the story starts. On my way back, from about 10 meters away, I could see the watchman talking to a bunch of cops. From where I could see, two of them were like constables (with sticks) and one of them was a sub-inspector (he had a gun and I also know how the ranks work by looking at the "stars" on their shoulders). The watchman pointed at me, as soon as he saw me arrive at the scene. "WTF", was my first reaction. By this time I could feel the pee at the "tip". This is how the conversation with the cops went. As promised, I'm going to write it in Hindi, but will also translate since I already have a request for this to be in English.

Sub Inspector - Woh lal gadi tumhara hai kya? (Is that red vehicle yours?)
Me - Haan Sahib. Kyon? (Yes sir. Why?)
Sub Inspector - Bahut cheeeen cheeeen karti hai tumhari gadi (Your car does a lot of "cheeen cheeen")
*Spits tobacco to his left and very close to my slipper clad feet
Constable 1 - CHALAAA, gadi ka checking karne ka hai (COME ON, we need to check the car)
Me (almost trying to hold "it" between my legs) - Sahib, main shirt ghar pe dal ke aata hoon, mere ko toilet bhi jane ka hai (Sir, I'll leave the shirt at home and I also need to go to the toilet)
Sub Inspector - Chal, sirf do minute ka kaam hai (Let's go, it'll take 2 minutes)

So we walk toward my car about 20 meters away. Me with ironed shirts in one hand and my "thing" almost in the other.

Constable 1 - Gadi ko kholo (open the car)
**bee beep

Constable 1 and 2 start invading my car. Constable 2 finds the bottle of water in the seat pocket and hands it over to the Sub Inspector, who just opens it, without even asking me, and takes a big drink (obviously proving he's the BOSS). At this time, I'm still busy peeking into the car to see if the find anything weird and am subconsciously grabbing onto my crotch.

Sub Inspector - Aaaye, yeh paani garam kyon hai (Oi, why is this water warm)
Me (still holding my crotch) - Kaun sa paani sahib? (What water sir?)

He then looks at the bottle of water and looks down at my hand on my crotch and spits the water out. The look on his face was priceless!!

The watchman who came along with us, laughed so hard, that he had to run back into the building to avoid any trouble. The 2 constables laughed hard as well. The Sub Inspector slammed the bottle to the ground and spat the remaining water out and spat some more after that and wiped his lips at least 5 times on his shirt sleeve. Then he asked me very politely to go home.

I don't think he'll ever be trying to drink water of unknown people's cars. Actually I'm pretty sure.

P.S. I walked to the gate, almost pissing my pants (not out of fear, but out of the need to) and my watchman is huddled up in this corner laughing his ass off. He looked at me for a moment, and then laughed so hard that he let out a fart. Well, I think that was true laughter.

The detective.

I'm good at it. Really fucking good.

I've quit my job and my boss refused to accept my resignation, except that I know the law doesn't allow him to do that when I'm meeting the terms of my contract. So, because he knows that I know, he's helpless. It started a little difficult, yes, but I put my skills to it. The company fucked me over BIG TIME when I joined them and now they don't have a prayer. All I did was state the facts, with some research inference. But this is not the first time. It brought up a memory that I believe I should be proud of.

I was in the 8th grade. Circa 1995-96. I used to be in our school's RSP (road safety patrol) and a whole other ton of things (choir, boxing, chess, badminton, wasn't I a hot all rounder, etc.). We had a big week coming up and had safety drills practice everyday. We had to wear our entire kit the whole day (usually), which included a lanyard, beret, and shoulder RSP things that made us feel very proud. And it really went well with Bishop's maroon and yellow theme. We were the heroes those days.

This is where our story begins.

I would usually take off my kit after RSP "practice" at 7am before going for choir practice at 8am and keep it in my school bag. Everyone in RSP, choir and my class (8 B) knew that. A day before our big week, my entire stuff goes missing from my bag. I was shaken, cause I know mum wouldn't buy me a kit overnight. She would expect me to" find out" first as to what happened. I walked up to our class teacher in the staff room and told her my story. She is far from my being anyone that made a difference in life. The first question she asked of a 13 year old me was, "are you sure you wore the kit today"? I said,"yes ma'am, everybody saw me wear it". So, she called in a few people and asked them the question again. We had about 60 people in RSP and since our school's dress code was maroon and white, nobody remembered if I had the kit on that day. I was done.

I decided to investigate the matter. I made a list of my suspects.

First, the person that knew I had a kit that day. Second, it could only be someone from choir and RSP since they knew my routine. Third, it had to be someone that knew where my seat in class was so they could steal it. Last, it couldn't be someone from choir cause they would have been with me. 6 people were in RSP, only me in choir as well. That left 5 suspects in the class. 4 of them had kits all along and one had his parents buy him a kit for the big day, just the previous evening, which he would wear only the next day. His name was Jasdeep. Prime suspect. All I had to do was prove what he had done before the evening.

Jasdeep had a cocky, over smart younger brother in the 5th grade. The boy thought he was cooler than a blast freezer. He was my first target. I went up to his class and generally asked him if his parents were coming for the big day. He said, that his parents are not interested in stuff like RSP. Score. Which meant his parents wouldn't even see their son dressed in a kit which they "bought". Then I asked, if he'd seen his brother on practice, to which he said he had and that his brother was given a "new kit" for being the "best cadet" a day before, presentation to happen that afternoon. Brilliant. I asked him who did the presentation. He said, "The Leader". Not good. As it turns out, "The Leader" is a great friend of Jasdeep and he will obviously think something is wrong if I ask him a question. Time to turn the cocky, over smart kid on himself and his brother.

So, I asked him, if he had ever met "The Leader". The boy said he hadn't and I offered him a great chance to meet, shake hands and talk to him because I could arrange for the boy to meet what was a "good friend". He saw the opportunity in it and came with me. I told him when he meets "The Leader", he must thank him for gifting his brother the kit. The Leader, with an IQ of a chair, was the second target for reasons only I will ever know. They shook hands. The first thing the little smart ass says is, "Can I also get a kit"?. To which the dumb fuck leader replies, "What kit". The boy says, "The one you gave my brother yesterday. The victim of my superior conspiracy goes, "I didn't give Jasdeep the kit. You're parents bought it for him". Suddenly they realise I'm standing there with a smile on my face with another friend I asked to come along to witness "my theory".

Half an hour later, we have the class teacher walk in and deliver the verdict in front of 60 boys. She asked the class to clap for me, because I'd done all that without making a noise. Jasdeep cried as he returned my kit and he was obviously sorry. My mum never found out.

P.S. On the big day, Jasdeep had a brand new kit and his parents were in the stands. After the entire event, he took my hand and said his parents wanted to meet me. They gave me a foot long steel ruler, an big scented eraser and a Hero fountain pen in a packet that had "Sorry" written on it. Jasdeep told me the next day that was the only reason his parents came to see him. We're still friends.

This is a true story.

Faithless

Think of all the things you deeply believe in and you realise that they are all in a way taught to you by people you have faith in. No matter how much you think you're 'self made'.

Imagine living all your years looking up those people who you think were your definition of perfect. Imagine wanting to be like them, even if you could only be a little like them.

Now imagine, it taking a minute for you to realise all that was fake. Yes, that is how you lose faith in everything after..

Confrontation and I

I have always been a very non-confrontational kind of a guy. Almost always. In all my relationships I don't think I was ever the fighting/discussion type (almost all). I would rather leave things to get fixed by themselves." Time heals" is my mantra. I didn't realise how much this attitude, that may have only started as escapism (from things I did not want to think about), has actually become my nature. I find my self so often just ignoring things and thinking they will be fixed by some miraculous occurrence but now the shit has begun to pile up. I can feel it. I think what keeps me safe is that I always have a plan. So in a way, while I may not really fight, I have a plan for if it doesn't go my way. If I does then it's just status quo. Isn't it? Now here is the problem. I think people may have figured this about me and are using this against me to take away the things I deserve. They know I may "express" my unhappiness a little, but then I will just go away and get about doing something else. Not anymore! There are few things that are worth fighting and I promise I will fight The Devil himself if I have to for them.

But I must admit, being non-confrontational can be lonely 'cause as far as I'm concerned, if I don't want to deal with it, I don't want to discuss it. With anyone. Sadly, that doesn't stop the planning that comes instinctively, so at some level I'm still thinking about it.

Anyway.

I realise I have written quite a lot (by my usual standards) in the last few weeks. I'm not sure if that is a good thing or a bad one. I did book an incorrect flight ticket yesterday, a day after writing my last post and although I realised immediately what had happened, I had to shell out another 1500 rupees to amend my booking. All this in about 5 minutes. So I think I've still not passed the curse over. I also had quite a show down (over the phone) with the dude who hit my parked car (it pisses me off every time I think, "it was PARKED"), and that was mostly because he kept calling me "dear". No, not like "Dear Martin", just "dear". Like, "Listen to me dear...", "My car got hit so many times also dear..", "Blah blah blah.. dear..."!! I was so pissed off, that I swear I would have slapped him if he was in front of me (I told you I'm ALMOST always non confrontational). I know you're probably thinking, it's not that bad, right? Try reading all those sentence again and pronounce it as "dee-errr". Yeah, are you feeling it now??

Finally, I have just realised today, that Facebook may have actually saved me from a whole load of explaining that I couldn't really care about. I wish I could give you details, but trust me, they're not important to discuss.

That's it.

My shit luck!

Of late, I find myself being extremely unlucky a lot of times. Not a very good combination I can tell you (extremely unlucky + a lot of times = you’re fucked!). Yes, I started noticing this with some really stupid things, but as they start becoming bigger, I’m getting that fucked feeling for which I discovered the basic formula.  The other thing I’m beginning to fear is that it’s getting stronger the more I talk about it. It’s like one of those things that feeds on people’s fears (or some other shit).

It started with those football games where every team I supported and spoke about, lost! Once I started noticing the pattern, I decided not to say anything and then the Italians got bitch slapped by Spain (whom I was secretly supporting and no one knew, of course). Then there was the famous “near death experience” I wrote about in my last post and yesterday, I was almost convinced that I’m being unlucky a lot of times and I am hence.. you know what! I watched the first set of the Wimbledon final (it’s no secret that I support Federer) and then I had people texting me and asking me to stop watching it. I decided to provide a little more proof to my theory and drove off back to Bombay. Federer won the next three sets, The Wimbledon and regained world number 1 ranking. Not like that part is news to any one (except my dearest friend Vikram Bhalla maybe).

I was telling people in office about my recent experience with bad luck and laughing about it when the security for the building called to tell me that someone had banged into my car in the parking. SOMEONE HIT MY PARKED CAR!! The audience to my earlier discussion was quite stunned as I was also talking about my “feeds on fears” theory. Now no one will talk to me. Not even that person no one talks to! On further investigation of the events leading up to the incident, the guard tells me, it’s just bad luck! Not like I needed for him to tell me that. The guys that hit the car, offered to fix it but ask me to “adjust”. Whatever the fuck he meant by that. I’m still trying to understand how he managed to hit my little car when it was parked between two cars that are the size of a truck! Bad luck I suppose.

P.S.

Car banger – Boss, sorry. But please adjust.

Me – What is that supposed to mean?

Car banger – My car also got hit so many times and I never found the person who did it.

Me – That was your BAD LUCK! Ha!

There is hope. Yes.

Ageing? Me? No way!

On Thursday, at 1:30am I was still watching the England versus Ukraine game when suddenly I felt this massive pain in my chest and my right hand went completely numb. Yes, I know - WTF! Going by my little knowledge of diagnosis based on symptoms, the right hand was a good sign. I tried to remain calm and first called Rami then Herbert who woke my mum up. My mum, obviously extremely worried gave me a quick round of 20 questions on what I was feeling and then asked me to get a few meds (from the very dependable 24 hour medical store in Bombay, that delivers to your home). Her next set of instructions were for me to call some one who lives close by and let them know I may not see them ever again. That was a joke. She basically wanted to make sure I had someone close by who could take me to the hospital if needed. At this time my pulse was at about 130. 

So at about 2:30am I called a colleague of mine, Jerome, who obviously was sleeping away after a long day of hard work (may be), and he jumped out of bed to come over to my place. I had a difficult time convincing him that I will be alive the next morning and see him in office, but it finally worked. I went to office the next morning, worked the entire day, also drove 4 1/2 hours to Pune the next day and lived to write about it on my blog! The doctor did come over to office on Thursday and after doing a round of quick tests and asking me another set of 20 questions, she said it was gas ('caused by the one I didn't let go - I assume). I don't know if she intended pun. But how does that explain the numbing of my arm?  Well, that was due to the Cervical Spondylosis that I also apparently suffer from. It just got aggravated, possibly by gas(?). Some questions are best left unanswered I guess.


This was last week and I can tell you I'm absolutely fine now save for the Cervical Spondylosis. 

Although not serious, incidents like this do put a little seed of doubt in the mind. Am I really alright? Will I wake up in the morning? Should I drive for four hours straight? Should I drive at all? Most of all, is this all worth it? I know I'm not getting any younger and the sedentary lifestyle I live, it's a miracle I've not had anything serious. Well not yet at least. But a check up is in order soon and I have to admit I will be very nervous before the results come out. Is it possible to fail a blood test?

When I look back, I think this over confidence about my health issues does come from all those years of playing (being a "jock" as Kima put it). I remember inspite of being injured, I would still carry on with torturing myself. It was fun. But how those days come back to haunt me on a cold day. I know what my grandmother (who once fell off a cliff, down about a 100 feet) must feel like. I also think the reason I survive all the punishment I put my body through now (and let me tell you there are several) is because of those years. So at this rate, I should be able to get through a couple of years more before I need the walking stick, hearing aid, pacemaker, insulin shots, etc. The collar on the neck might happen much sooner though!

The good news is, I'm still here. So, smile (or frown if it suits you).

P.S.

Me - Doc, but why was my pulse 130?

Doc - Maybe because you thought you had a heart attack

Me - Oh, you mean like the storm before the calm? (heheheh)
Doc - But your pulse is absolutely fine now. Like the calm before..!!

BITCH!

Shaken, stirred and more

I know it’s been a lifetime since I wrote my last post. I’ve just been lazy and quite content with putting up fleeting thoughts on Facebook. Yes, you read that right and yes, for all those people that got trolled last year, you have been vindicated. I even have 585 friends (fuckin’ hell yeah!). How many do you have, huh?

A lot has happened in the last 5 months (damn, has it been that long?). The last post I wrote was about La Verde and since then, I’ve been to Manila twice again (for 6 weeks the second time), La Verde shut down, relocated and re-opened.  I was present for the shut down but not for the remaining festivities. But the good thing was that because they shut down, I discovered many other places and boy, am I glad I did! People think it’s awesome that I get to travel on my work to foreign lands (they also assume these are full of naked women ready to fall at your feet or… ahem). But honestly it is not all that. When you do travel, almost every single minute of your day is planned and every last drop of blood is sucked out from your body!! Okay, that may be a little too much but it is usually quite hectic and not always fun filled.

So what made me write after so long? I have been following this blog for some time now. Rami recommended it to me. Kima is a Mizo guy that lives in Bombay and after reading some of his stuff today, I really felt inspired to write again. Even if that means it’ll be just this one post. Apart from that, I’ve also been feeling completely betrayed at work, and I would usually hold back on saying something like this in a public forum so you can imagine the extent of my frustration right now. I would like to go into the details of what happened, but I don’t think anyone would be interested in that. Let’s just say, that after having worked my ass off so hard for the last one year, ignoring my near and dear, never having the time (and being absolutely pooped or shitfaced when I do have the time), I have just been let down  so bad. I usually like to think of myself as someone who would pick up the pieces and move on pretty quickly. But not this time, no. I refuse to be tormented by corporate decisions anymore. What am I going to do about it? That I will not mention here, but as with everything else in my life I have a plan and a plan B (and Plan B2!). But worry not, It won’t kill me (or so I hope).

The funny thing is I’ve always had amazing bosses. They have all been amazing human beings but I used to have a team of people working with me at one time and I think I was not a bad human being either, but most importantly I think I was a strong boss. This is what people look for; this is at least what I would look for.

Anyway.

Of late, I’m beginning to feel like age is catching up with me. Yes, I’m going to be 30 in November (*realization - holy shit!) and I still feel like I have so much to do. A lot of my friends, who not too long ago were getting married, now have babies or are pregnant or realizing their marriage is not working and I’m still a long way off square one. And I’m not a commitment phobe (well, not completely at least). To start with, I have started liking veggies, I love watching the news (financial news is orgasmic) and food shows and I cannot cross the road without thinking everyone of the motorists are a part of some conspiracy to knock my behind off the road. The other day I almost wore my trousers till my chest! Is anybody feeling what I’m talking about? The cock up is that people generally say the body ages and not the heart. For me it the other way round**! I FEEL OLD!! I think I’m just going to pick up my walking stick and leave now.

I haven’t stuck to the resolution that I made in the beginning of the year and that is not anything new as far as resolutions go. I remember about 10 years ago I started making resolutions every year for the next 5 to quit smoking. I quit making resolutions after.
More later. Hopefully.

P.S. **If your nose runs and your feet smell, you’re built the wrong way

La Verde - A bar away from a home bar!!

Finally, I've got my lazy self to write about what was probably the most interesting part of my stay in Manila. La Verde Bar (I can feel a lump in my throat already). The bar is in one corner or a mall called Festival mall and for most of the people reading this - the mall is probably about 20 times the size of Inorbit in Malad, 30 times the size of Nucleus in Pune and 10 times the size of Macy's in New York! Basically, it freaking huge!! So big that in all my times of visiting it, I would get lost. I never entered and left from the same gate in the mall.

The funny thing is, I very often came to the exit where the bars were. That's probably coz I just closed my eyes and let my Jedi powers lead me to the correct exit :). The Filipinos will always insist that this is not half as big as Mall of Asia - which is the biggest mall around. It's so big that they're considering giving a status of a city! Yes, that was a joke. I would generally go to the mall to exchange money (not coz I was getting drunk so often but coz they always had the best exchange rate and for an Indian man, that rocks!) and I would always control my expenses (again, Indian man) by exchanging only 100 dollars at a time. So, in a nutshell I went there about six times. It did helped that it was a 10 minute walk from the hotel.

I loved the place so much that it's just easy to get carried away and forget what I started talking about. La Verde (another lump in my throat).

Discovering La Verde was complete serendipity. I got back from the office one night (at about 1:15 am) absolutely famished and hoped like most places around my office I would get something to eat at the hotel. Around the office I could eat McDonalds and Jollibees (the Filipino equivalent of McDonalds) 24 hours a day. But, there's only so much bread with chicken/beef cutlets I can eat. The hotel staff told me they shut down at 12:30am (whaaaaat!) and I could go to a place around the corner called Yellow Cab - pizzas and pasta kind of place. Not what I wanted. So the cab guy that drove me to the hotel recommended "Festibaal". He told me there were some bars there where I could get some regular food till early in the morning. I was to find out that early in the morning meant 11:00am!! So off we were to "Festibaal". Until that point, I'd only seen one side of the mall and this dude actually drove me past two red lights to one corner of the mall. I could already hear the music from a distance.

Once I got off, I had a choice of about 10 places I could go to (1:40am) all buzzing with energy. All I wanted was for something to eat and head back. I walked around and picked the place with the cleanest bar seats knowing that I would picked on by the cross dressers if I sat on a regular table. "Sir Martin" had arrived! I sat at the bar and this guy immediately knew I was a foreigner.

"Hello sir, where are you from"
"Mumbai"
"Where is that, sir"
"In India, it's also called Bombay"
"Oh, I know Bombay sir. You drink whiskey there."
"No, actually I only drink Vodka and beer"
"But Indian people like.. Blimpers Bride"
"Blimpers Bride?? Hahahha.. No, Blenders Pride"
"Never mind. Drink San Miguel Lite, very good beer"
(Cross dresser walks on to the stage at 1:50 am)"Okay, give me a pint and your food menu"

The San Miguel Lite came on in 10 seconds and I ordered spicy chicken wings with french fries. The safest thing without bread. The guy at the bar then told me my order would take 20 minutes, which I was okay with, since the big gulp of the awesome San Miguel Lite made me realise a couple more of the lite wouldn't hurt. It was three San Miguels before the food actually came (2:20am) and I ate like a Somali kid..

Once done (about 2:45am, I think), I ordered another San Miguel and the cross dresser had already spotted me as the foreigner in the crowd. The next few minutes could have been hell but thanks to the beer on my empty stomach, I was a little high already. The next few minutes were like this,

"Hello Sir. Where are you from?"
"Bombay" (they don't recognise Mumbai - Yay!)
"Ohhhhh, Bombay, India. Would you like us to sing Jai ho for you?"
"Not really, I don't like that song too much"
"What is your name sir?"
"Martin"
"Martin??? Ohhh, welcome to La Verde, Sir Martin (I could hear bagpipes in my head with a king laying a sword on each of my shoulders, saying, "I pronounce thee, Sir Martin"). My name is Xena (like the warrior princess)"

This was the begining of "Sir Martin". I stayed there till about 4am, eating more French fries and getting picked on by Xena. He/She finished his/her lot and came up and spoke to me. That would be my first friend at La Verde. A 41 year old cross dressing man. I promised I would come back soon and left coz I needed to sleep. On the way out I met they bartender and all he said was, "See you on Friday sir, my name is Jek". I had to go back now.

This was only my first time in this place and it only gets better each time. I'm going to talk about all the friends I made there, including Xena. But I think I've written enough for now. More in the next post! It's going to be worth the wait! :)

P.S.

Xena: Sir Martin, do you like Filipinas?
Me: I have a girlfriend!
Xena: But do you think Filipinas are beautiful?
Me: Yes, but not like I want to do anything about it!
Xena: Sir Martin, Do you think my tits are nice?
Me: I need to go throw up!
Xena: You like them soooo much??
Me: You're disgusting!
Xena: Then you'll like me better in bed!

That was the first time they picked on me after calling me Sir Martin.

It's more fun in the Philippines..

Mabuhay Folks!!

The title is the tag line for the Philippine tourism and I have to say they're not too off. Coming from Bombay,  where a pint of beer costs you 200 rupees to being in Manila where in a good place you'd get it for 47 pesos (almost 47 rupees), you ought to have more fun! The Filipino people themselves are some of the sweetest people you can meet. They make you feel so important and I even got the title of "Sir Martin". It's just an awesome place to be in. But then at some point you do start to miss the food (being the Indian that I am) and home. Given the opportunity though, I would go back, several times!!

Now about my hotel room. First, it was not a room. It's an apartment, complete with a cooking range, a kitchen more functional than the one I have in Bombay, a dining room that reminds me of the days when my mom was still in the army and overall the place was bigger than my house in Bombay. It's another matter that houses in Bombay are the size of a matchbox. The staff down there were just brilliant, or maybe they were just Filipinos. I realised very soon when I walked into the place that I was going to miss it when I leave. And miss it I did! For reasons more than one. To start off, I could see a mall called the Festival Mall right from my room. No, I'm not a fan of malls, but this mall has an entire section in one corner which is full of "bars" as they call it in Philippines. More about the bars later, I also had a hotel cab drive me to and fro from work each day, which I can tell you reduced the stress I encountered in a day by almost half. The other outstanding this about the hotel was that I could smoke in my room - it's outstanding 'cause there are very few places in the world where you can still do that (going by my last travel to the UK).

The bars in the Philippines are mind blowing! Most of them have live music, actually come to think about it, I never saw one where the DJ played all the music. It's bands that come and play all the latest songs and I have to say they are amazingly talented. The other thing is that all these bars usually have cross dressers and/or gay men compering the entire show. I couldn't understand a word of what they were saying but from the crowds reaction I could tell they were hilarious. There was one bar in particular that I frequently visited called La Verde. More about it in my next blog (don't forget the strategy now). Most of the bars are open from 3:00pm (I almost wrote afternoon after pm :p) to 11:00am (you're reading it correct - 11am!!). Yes, that is 20 hours a day, 7 days a week. That's 15 hours and a day more than most places in Pune are open and just when we thought Bombay and Delhi have a night life, welcome to place where they have and after night life!! I told you - "It's more fun in the Philippines!!" And I already told you that a pint of beer costs 47 bucks here. In India it would not even be legal to get drunk with such little money!! I also made friends at La Verde which meant I could also order anything (even if it was not on the menu) and the chef would specially make it for me. I am "Sir Martin" after all, am I not?

And I know how bad some people reading this post want to know about the girls in Philippines. They are gorgeous!! Thankfully my girlfriend is too - so it was easy not to get carried away. That and the thought that some of them may actually be men! But yes, on the whole the women are beautiful and the straight men are smart. As a community, I think they really know their fashion and pull anything off easily. Much like the north eastern Indians. To be honest their cultures are very similar too.

My next post is going to be dedicated to La Verde Manila and it's awesome people. I spent many good times in my 3 weeks here and unfortunately I have very few pictures to show for it. But I do have someone that is writing a blog on their visit to Manila. I introduced him to the good place as well. So I'm just going to steal some pics off his blog. Till then...

The strategy is now in action!

So, I finally bought an entire carton of Benson & Hedges Special Filter from "Free Duty" to kill that bloody craving! I don't know why I didn't just buy Marlboro. I thought I'd smoked B&H before, but that first drag made me feel like something sucked out all the moisture from my throat. It was almost like I'd smoke a joint! Maybe it was just the cigarette after so long and the obvious dehydration from not drinking water for so long. It's a little weird for my to drink water from those funny taps where the flow of water is actually upwards. It's not the flow of water that bothers me though, it's the position I feel I'm in while trying to take a drink. Try it - you'll know what I mean! Well, I'm now stuck with those cigarettes and I think I'm getting used to them. I'm sure by the time I'm habituated it will be time to get back to Gold Flake Lights! Next time I'll just buy my carton in India instead of trying to be a cheap ass! Lesson learned Misters Benson and Hedges.

Eventually the airline staff did come back to me, the guy actually looked for me till he found me (making a big mistake) in the "Free Duty" area. He handed me my boarding pass and said, "You're visa is okay". I had no energy to fight with the man and conveniently assumed that the Chinese dude probably meant my BAGGAGE was okay. Why would he be worried about my Philippine visa anyway? Not like I was going to stay in his country! He then asked me to accompany him to his desk and I can swear he took the long way around with all the walkways moving in the opposite direction. He even walked like he was wearing roller stakes with me trying to keep up and almost lugging my handbag. Anyway, I reached his desk where he asked me to show him my passport and then gave me my boarding pass (after taking it back from me) and said, "Baggage don't claim"! If this was another country I would have tried to give him my kung-fu super kick!! I then explained to him that he had already wasted a lot of my time and now if I had to go through immigration and collect my baggage and then return, I was sure to miss my flight. To which he said, "Yes, baggage no claim. Go have cigarette and catch flight. Come I show you cigarette place". I'm not making up his sentences, I promise! Finally,  after "seeing" the cigarette place, regretting my decision and with peace in my heart I walked away as far as the airport would allow from mainland China!

I'm was almost 24 hours without sleep and hoped to catch some shut eye before I reached Manila and ran straight to office. On the flight I was seated next to this lady and her plump 5 year old son. (I just think "plump" fits the description of that boy so well). I had the aisle seat and she requested me to take the window seat instead, to which I politely agreed. What I did not think is that why would a lady with a plump 5 year old not want a window seat? As I sat down, I could see this boy trying desperately to look out of the window from the middle seat, so I asked him if he wanted to sit there. His mom didn't allow him to sit there and she said if she did, he wouldn't allow her to rest. Alright. The flight took off and the lady went to sleep like a baby, while the plump 5 year Filipino boy jumped all over me to look out of the window. I could have hit him if he didn't have such a scary looking mother. The little plump dude almost knocked my entire lunch on lap at one time!! I really wish I had like a dart gun with tranquilisers - I would use all my ammo on that boy. And then reload and do it all over again. Eventually, I did not get any sleep, stood in the immigration line for an hour, waited 30 minutes for my baggage (funny it's called that) and finally dragged myself to a cab to the hotel.

The hotel room was such a surprise!! But I'll keep that for my next post.

 P.S. I don't smoke up. I did once and I knew how it felt. Hence, the reference to the joint. Don't be getting ideas!!

Happy New Year and whatever..

My New Year resolution is to update my blog more often. Really.

It's not too much fun when you're writing a post at 8:30am at an Airport Terminal (Hong Kong) without any sleep since yesterday morning (and with a bad hangover), and have no cigarettes and don't want to buy any 'cause your travelling to a country (Philippines) where a packet of Marlboro costs $1 as opposed to having to buy an entire carton of them in what is probably the worlds most expensive "Free Duty". No, that's not a typo - that what the Chinese people call it, "Free Duty". Now whatever in the fuck that means. All this while waiting for one of the Airline staff to confirm if your check-in baggage can be transferred automatically, or if you will need to go through immigration, get a 14 day visa stamped, then collect your baggage, come right back through immigration and walk 1 1/2 kms to the boarding gate. I shit you not! The funny thing about this walk, is that they actually have walkways that move only in the opposite direction!! Who says the Chinese don't have a sense of humor? I think they're fucking laughing at me right now, hiding in those many many corners of the terminal.

But if a land of my fantasy were to exist, I'm quite sure it's somewhere in China.

P.S. The technique is going to be - have short posts and write often, even if you have loads of things to say today, hold it for 5 days later! Let's see how it works!!