TOM & JERRY

This post was selected as Blogadda's Tangy Tuesday pick (Thanks to Dreamer)

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           A Turbaned Old Man (TOM) and a young man from his office, a Junior Entrant Representing the Ruthless (Reckless) Youth (JERRY) were pacing up and down the room. TOM was visibly nervous and every now and then slumps into the sofa wringing his hand.

JERRY: Relax dude, you can do it. In fact you have done it so many times.

TOM: I know, I know, but every time it feels like it is the first time. I don’t know what to say this time

JERRY: Let us start with the positives. Your achievement! You are the third longest serving PM in terms of number of days in office. We could definitely highlight that. Or better still, let us talk about the number of days you have not spoken while in office. That will take you right up to the top. It will be a record no one can dream to emulate given your competitors’ penchant for speaking non stop.

TOM: No,no, we can’t. They call me a puppet and you know that the puppet remains in the same place till somebody shifts it. Besides Barka, Rajdeep & Co have been hollering from their channels urging me to speak up.

JERRY: Okay, then let’s talk about Kashmir and your magnanimous offer of autonomy….

TOM: Are you crazy? There will be more blood shed. Mine…..besides they have already taken their autonomy preferring to celebrate their Independence Day on 14th and closing the valley on the 15th. How I wish I was there and not here! Then I need not go out on the 15th.

JERRY: Cool man, cool. Let us then showcase our economy, agriculture……..

TOM: Seriously Jerry, You should do your homework, any talk of economy will automatically lead to inflation. Whatever jargon we use like single digit, double digit, positive , negative, people still say they feel the pinch. Frankly I don’t know what the fuss is all about. My wife never complains of price rise. And if I talk about agriculture, these TV channels will show food rotting in the godowns.

JERRY: In that case we will trumpet the prestige of holding the Commom Wealth Games.

TOM: Are you playng games with me? I have stopped watching TV for the fear of new skeletons tumbling out of the cup boards. But my colleagues who are enjoying their moments of glory in the TV studios and impromptu interviews tell me that Suresh has been going around telling everybody that he is ready to sacrifice his LIFE for his COUNTRY.

JERRY: No boss, I think he is being misquoted as usual. What he must have meant was that he is ready to sacrifice his COUNTRY for the sake of his LIFE. Anyways, how about taking credit for the super bug being named after our Capital? This surely is an admission by the West that we are emerging as a Super Power.

TOM: We could, but the Ministry of Health and the medical fraternity is opposing it tooth and nail. My own council of Ministers are against me denying me this simple pleasure. Jerry, we are running out of time. Please do something

JERRY: No sweat man, I will hustle up something man. I don’t think anybody gives a damn oops sorry, about what you will be speaking. There will be loads of school children and security personnel who will out number the children. The children will want this to end, so that they can go and enjoy their holiday and for the security it is another day in office. Moreover you will standing behind a bullet proof glass and no one can even hurl a shoe if they wanted to.

TOM: Don’t rub it in. Get me something fast.

An hour later JERRY comes in and hands TOM some sheets of paper.

TOM: Thanks man.

He starts reading “ Long years ago we made a tryst with destiny…….

TOM: Hey wait….. Isn’t this Panditji speech on August 15th 1947.

JERRY: Right man, you are fast. Who will remember it anyway, considering aam aadmi’s short memory? And one more thing it is still relevant. A tribute to speech writers like us. We make our speeches timeless, so that it can be used anywhere and any time

TOM faints.

Happy Independence Day! Proud to be an Indian. Aren’t we a resilient lot?

P.S. This was supposed to be posted a couple of days earlier. Shall I just say I just got my freedom now?

Does Size Matter?

It is all in the mind they say. Despite knowing that a small one performs as good as a big one, there is always an obsession for owning a big one. People have become such exhibitionists and there is a general feeling that the bigger it is, the better is its performance. I have asked several friends and surprisingly everybody has the same opinion. The other day, this discussion came up with wife. She got angry with me as she thought I was pulling her leg. But she did confess that though she didn’t know much about the subject, she too felt that a big one should be better. Am I the only one in the whole world that thinks other-wise? I definitely don’t want to walk with a big bulge in my pants or anywhere else for that matter to show my superiority.

To me a mobile phone is just that- a phone to stay connected at all times. I strongly feel that there is no situation that requires immediate attention except maybe health related or very rarely work related. And I would rather prefer a camera to take pictures, a radio or an i-pod for my entertainment, a laptop to browse the web or to send mails. The world wouldn’t crash if I failed to reply to an e-mail the minute I receive it and I am not conceited enough to believe that my ‘friends’ are waiting with bated breath for my hourly status updates or tweets or buzzes. So any small phone would fit my requirement.

Is this the cry of ‘sour grapes’ from a guy who loses, misplaces or hold your breath, drops his phone into puddles of water regularly? Maybe it is. What do you think? Does size really matter?

The Book and its Cover

Three incidents in the last one month has set me on a journey to find the truth.

I was in Bangkok airport. I had 7 hours to kill before my connection to Chennai would take off. In the transit lounge they had set up a play area for kids with plastic slides and chairs modelled like the airport. Two guys (from Andhra Pradesh is my guess.They spoke Telegu) wanted to take their photographs with them sitting on the toys. Absolutely nothing wrong with their intention. It would make for some good snaps to show off back home.The play area was small, so they couldn't get enough space to get the photograph as they wished it to be. They started pulling the things around, making some space for them to get around their problem. Perfectly alright. It doesn't make sense to have some photos with your faces partially visible or in shadows. They spend some time taking snaps in all different poses they could think off. Then they did the unpardonable. They left things as they were all dishevelled. I waited  for them to put everything back. I threw some hints at them as to what they should be doing. They did not catch them or more importantly they didn't want to catch them. In my younger days I would have gone hammer and tongs at them. I am no longer young, not even at heart. I tried to do the next best thing. I thought I would shame them. A la Munna Bhai. I put down my laptop bag and set about arranging the toys to its original place. Initially they did not notice so engrossed in their conversation and when they became aware of what I was doing, they just looked on. As if the whole purpose of my birth was to do this.

At the Colombo airport, as I was coming out after collecting my baggage, the airport staff jumped in front of  me and demanded to see the baggage tag. Probably my baggage didn't match my face. It was happening once too often.

At the restaurant, for breakfast, I put a couple of slices of bread  in the toaster and when it popped up,I took them out and put them on a side plate. A lady of about 45 swooped down from nowhere and took it away. Her husband clearly embarassed looked away avoiding my eyes. And yes, they were Indians. I wonder what makes us Indians to be like this. 

All this has made me philosophical and has made me wonder at the answer for the elusive question. 'Who am I?'.

Do I look like a comedian, a crook,or  a sucker?

Is it the fault of the book? Or is it the cover?

SMOKE SIGNS

At 9.15 pm, an old ailing lady was startled awake from a fitful sleep by it, a boy studying for his class test was disturbed by it. The CFO of a leading MNC who was scouring the Economic & Business sections of the newspaper was irritated by it. An infant started howling after having been rudely awakened by it. It made the ladies who were engrossed in the serials to look up momentarily from the television sets.

It was a motor cycle horn. It had a different sound. It was shrill and sounded like a clarion. I have been hearing this everyday for the past 10 days at precisely the same time. Is it a signal to his love that he is on his way? I wonder.

The Interview

I managed to complete 1 more year as a sales person. Looking back, there are innumerable interesting people and incidences on my way here. Let me start at the very beginning. My interview.

On the appointed day, dressed in my best clothes which I was hoping would pass off as formals, my uncle’s army tie and my cousin’s borrowed shoes I waddled to the interview. Yes waddled. The shoes were one size too big and walking with them was like plodding with your feet in a couple of small suitcases. My days of leather shoes went with completing school. Even to school we went wearing shoes only in the mornings. In the evenings, too tired to wear them back after a vigorous game of football which will end only when it becomes really dark that we can no longer spot the ball, my friends and I would trudge back the 2 or 3 km to our homes, shoes dangling from our forearms, laces tying the left and right shoes in holy matrimony. In college it used to be a pair of dirty sneakers or a pair of Quo vadis. Quo Vadis-‘where are you going?’ in Latin - What an excellent name for a footwear! Quo vadis used to be our favourite sandals those days. Thin strips of dark tan leather criss-crossing each other. Pity I can’t find them nowadays.

I reached the office 10 minutes ahead of time. The previous day I had timed the distance and the time it would take to reach there from my uncle’s house where I was staying. I was made to wait in the lobby. I was distinctly uncomfortable with the new makeover. The necktie was strangling my neck like a boa constrictor. I was sweating profusely in spite of the air-conditioning. I was in half a mind to turn back, but I didn’t know what excuse I would give my folks. They would strangle me with the tie if I told them that I had developed cold feet. So I stayed put.

I was to be interviewed by SG (names/initials have been preserved to retain the authenticity). SG was the Deputy Sales Manager at the time. In time he went on to become the Divisional Sales manager and then the National Sales manager. He was a workaholic and was a terror among the cadres. I will be eternally grateful to him for teaching me the basics and for inculcating in me that if the basics are strong it is possible to wriggle out of any sticky situation. This belief has stood me in good stead many a times.

After 10 minutes, on the dot, he called me inside. After the initial pleasantries, he asked me about my background to put me at ease. Next, he asked me to read a passage from the day’s newspaper. I read out the passage with adequate care on the diction and pronunciation. After all , communication is the most important aspect of the job I had applied for.After I read out, he asked me what it meant. Back then I had a photographic memory (not any longer, my memory fails me most times than not. Is it the onset of Alzheimer’s? I don’t know) and I almost reproduced the passage verbatim. Then he asked me why I wanted to be a medical representative. To this day this is a stock question in such interviews. Could I tell him that I have tried everything else and couldn’t manage to get a job? So I gave him my stock answers: that I was interested in traveling; that I wanted to meet new people; that this job offered tremendous career enhancing opportunities; that I wanted to work with a boss like him. He guffawed. Was he pleased? Or had he seen through my amateur attempt at trying to sound sincere? He must have seen many green-horns, to know better. Then he asked me why I was fit for the job. I told him that I was good communicator, perseverant, would not take the first no as the final one and few other things just short of telling him that the whole purpose of my birth was to work for this company. I don’t know if he was impressed with my answers but he selected me as a medical representative for Bellary. But there was a change in plans and I landed in Madurai, but only after passing scrutiny from the regional manager IM, who was away on tour on the day of my interview.