Bangalored

Some of you may feel that an undying horse is being flogged again (borrowed the line from Magnolic) but nevertheless, an interesting conversation going on here.

Homecoming

She was waiting for him. It had been long since he had passed her way, by visiting or otherwise. Her love had accumulated over time, and was threatening to spill from her eyes. Longing was taking a toll on her. Then he came. Like a wayward son returning home, he came into her folds, and her brimming love broke all restraint and out came the tears, like a torrential deluge, as she welcomed him back.

I reached Mysore today. And three days of overcast clouds rained in all their splendour.

16 hours on the NH-4

Yoo hoo and a bottle of rum...

Harsha was giving high recommendations to Sharma Travels, and I can see now why. Minutes after Harsha and Gokul had lugged my bag into the bus, the bus started, and the powerful AC cooled the whole cabin in minutes. It was already 12 by the time we hit the ghats on the outskirts of Pune, so I guess that may have been the reason he did not play any movie at night. Blankets and bottles given, the lights were dimmed and then put off, and the only thing audible was the slow hum of the AC, which combined with the chilled ambience, put everyone to sleep.

Not me though, cos the seat I got was not fully reclining, and so I was feeling very uncomfortable. The girl next to me was accomodating enough to let me put my legs to the far end of her leg-space, so that I could doze off in a diagonal position, with my head on the window. I remember being awake till 1, because I was continuing a SMS conversation with a birthday gal. Then, fatigue overtook me, and the next thing I knew was daylight on my face through the window. The girl next to me was still asleep, complete with the blanket over her head to prevent the sun. I did the same and slept for another hour or so, before dad called me.

Presently he stopped for breakfast, and for once, it was not a stinky roadside hotel. The places where these KSRTC people stop, you know instantaneously where the toilet is, thanks to the stench emanating from it. Here, however, I had to ask, and to my pleasant surprise, the toilets were clean, the water was clear, and the food, sumptuous. It atleast leaves you with the comforting feeling that you got your money's worth. The place he stopped was a Reliance A-1 Outlet, methinks its Reliance's answer to Club HP "Achcha lagta hai" pit-stops on Pune-Mumbai expressway, with hotels and toilet facilities along with re-fuelling stations.

Lunch was again at a Reliance A-1, 50 kms away from Bangalore. By this time, I had seen Rang De Basanti and Malamaal Weekly. Thank God, I did not watch the latter movie in the theatres. Sucks big-time. This starts where the climax of Hungama ends (with all those people shaking and shouting in a bout of electric discharge). If it were not for the gal next to me, I would have pulled my hair out. During the course of the movie, I learnt that she was from Dombivili in Mumbai, and was working in some small company in Pune, and had got a new job in Cygnus software. Before joining there, she wanted to take a break and was visiting her brother in Bangalore.

Movies and Conversations over, the speakers started churning out FM, and after a long time, I heard the class of Bangalore RJs. Radio Mirchi RJs in Pune suck big time. Then the cleaner came and started announcing the stops in Bangalore, and she got off somewhere near Navrang, and a few more minutes later, me too gathered all my bags and headed home. It had taken fifteen and a half hours from Pune to Bangalore, pretty good enough. Comfortable seats, warm blankets, cool AC and neat stop-overs. Sharma is good, after all.

I will be going to Mysore tomorrow.

And by the way, this post is from my new notebook via a GPRS connection on the cell.

I'm off...

An old friend's engagement.
One long pending visit to a friend's new house.
One visit to the school, with school-friends.
One drive to the college, and one cutting chai in the canteen.
One meal at the dhaba, just like the old times.
Two re-unions.
Dozens of movies on my new notebook.
Hours of wi-fi internet at Cafe Coffee Day, Kalidasa Road.
Scores of photos on Harsha's Nikon.
and
a helluva catching up is all I want to do in Mysore.

Yes, I'm off to Mysore, and will be back in Pune on May 02nd. Will keep posting, though.

That Was The Week That Was

For the long-ishness of the previous post, it is but justified that I take a long break.

Anyway, last Saturday saw Rupa flying to Ipswich, and Rakshith will be flying some time next week.

Had been to Mumbai to see Rupa off, and for what little time I was there, and for what little I saw of the city, I fell in love with it. The power it exudes, the pace at which it moves...makes me shake my head in awe. Not that I dislike Pune, but Mumbai is Mumbai. Pune is incomparable. Its like comparing Mysore to Bangalore. One is a cultural stronghold, the other is the moolah-machine.

More on that in another post. Coming back home, we sacked our maid, and got a new one in her place. The old maid's lethargy had made us so bluntly tolerant, that now, the new one's routine work seems like a luxury.

And since afternoon, I am happy, because work-wise, there is nothing for me to finish before proceeding on leave. So all I did for the later half of the day was read her. I came across the link via desipundit, and I am not getting enough. Do read her stories. They are short, sweet, and leave you with your head tilted, saying "Awww".

And I am a part of Pune Bloggers now.

Love, Marriage and the Arrangements

Last weekend saw one of my friends attending a "groom-showing" ceremony. That's because she would be the bride in the equation. Somehow, this thing of "seeing" a bride/groom intrigues me no end. There is the tingling feeling of whom you may meet, whether the chemistry would be instant, or would fizz out like a half-opened can of beer.

I listened with keen interest as she kept on telling me details of their conversation, just the two of them. It was like the first date, only that this was a kind of family-arranged "blind" date. Breaking the ice, the hesitation, the urge to show your dry humor once the other person drops his/her guard, the deliberate need to make the other person feel comfortable...all this makes you kinda ecstatic. Its also true that you are put off if the other person is not responsive enough, but still...the quest to find a topic on which you can speak on and on, the exchanging of phone numbers, the talking late into nights...seems like a dream, but I have seen many such arranged blind dates flourish and blossom beautifully.

But there is the flip side too. What happens when there is a mismatch? What happens when all the late night talks and tingle were just the initial excitement, where you had this guard on, and after marriage, you drop your guard, to find a different person altogether? Then, you are too late to back out as well, and you resort to compromise. I am not against compromise, nor am I suggesting that relationships be damned at a drop of a hat, without taking the effort to make them work, but there is only so much you can do.

Take for example, what the man of few words says. Three years of bliss, would you want to throw it away. Three years of understanding each other, aligning yourself, and honing yourself, with the objective of spending all your life with the partner of your choice...would you want to throw it away, without making it work? I refrain from advising or suggesting anything to that couple, but I do think that when you feel you have made your choice, when you like a person so much that you want to spend your life with him/her, then caste, creed and all such things don't really matter. And for those to whom it matters, they have to realise that its a conscious decision you have made, and for all you are worth, your decision needs to be respected.

You may give me the argument that in an Indian context, a person marries a family, and not an individual. If you have such close ties with your family, why don't they give your decision the respect it deserves? Why don't they realise that while you searched out your partner, you have thought about them as well. Because for all the times they have been there for you, and made you the man/woman you are, you obviously would see to it that your partner respects and cares for them, along with you.

I am not saying love marriages always work out. All I'm saying is, in love, you can see where it is going. Consider twins. One falls in love, while the other "sees" a boy/girl and gets engaged. Both carry on for three months, getting to know their respective partners. Then, if the first finds that the partner is diametrically opposite to her/his persona, (s)he always has the chance to finish it, and back out with no hard feelings. No strings attached (pun unintended). The other is stuck with his/her polar opposite for life. (I of course, am not implying that things dont work out if the other person is totally opposite. In fact, its a good thing, helps understand each other better)

Here again, you may argue that the second one may have had a fruitful relationship, in spite of all the differences, due to compromises made. Point taken, but there are innumerable examples always. There are love marriages which ended in splitsville. And there are love marriages which worked out beautifully. And there are arranged marriages which worked out beautifully. And there are arranged marriages which were broken in court. And there are love marriages which got the consent of elders and became love-cum-arranged marriages. And there are live-ins. And there are couples who live separately. And extra-maritals. And on and on and on.

Compromises are made everywhere. There are voluntary compromises, which you do, to prevent a relationship going bad . There are frown-on-the-face compromises which you do, to prevent a bad relationship from going worse. There are things you do because your loved one wants you to. Similarly there are things you dont do because your loved one does not want you to. There are women who chuck their job, to look after the child. There are men, who tend the house when the wife is working (Arshad Warsi's is a notable example. He tended his child for two years, without a job, when they felt Maria Goretti's job was more important).

All said and done, things work out if you want them to. And it may take a lot of convincing, and groundwork before commitment. And love marriages give you an excellent platform. I know girls who want to be in a relationship, but are shackled by parental rules. I know girls who have honestly told the family about their plans ahead. Love marriages provide you with a chance to understand each other completely before committing yourself for life. I know for a fact (girls have told me in interesting discussions) that girls are more comfortable going to bed with someone they know, and trust their love and life with, than being undressed by a person they met a week, a month or even three months before.

I am not drawing this discussion to sex without reason. I believe that any relationship founded on sex is not strong enough. What if the guy has some expectations, and the girl, in her apprehensions (she's already naked with a stranger-of-three-months) does not live up to it. Will it not affect their relationship. Is it worth losing a lifetime of sleep over one night of staying awake? Marriage is not just about being good in bed. I believe that sex comes at the culmination of a relationship. The topmost level. The zenith. It gives you complete freedom, and an exulting feeling when your partner is someone whom you love, whom you care for, whom you can trust your life with, for whose happiness you will give up the world.

And this is where arranged marriages tend to falter (Remember, I'm not saying they fail). More often than not, they start with a compromise. And fare for the better or worse.

After a lot of detours and interesting roadblocks (read thought-blocks), I come to the same point where I was. One of my friends attended a "groom-seeing" ceremony last weekend. And both sides have "OK"ed it. The dates have not yet been finalised, but two more people are bidding farewell to their singlehood this season. Happy Married Life. *Raises glass*

Jammy's April Fool Prank

Ouchmytoe is back on its heels, or rather, toes again.

Jammy had put up a prank on April Fools Day, he blocked his own blog site, giving his readers a big shock. Not this one, of course...

He had "replaced Ouchmytoe blog's code with that of Rediffblogs. This was done after I had saved Ouchmytoe's code (both in "my documents" and in the Gmail server). Now my Blog looked like Rediffblog home. But there was something missing "how would I know who got fooled and who didnt" I definitely had to bring in a feature that would allow visitors to leave comments - documented proof that the prank had worked. The presence of this feature wouldn't have worked by itself. I needed to build a story around why I could have been blocked. Which is why I left the first comment - This is such a flimsy reason to block my site. I didn't agree to write for you because you don't pay well...and that was it. I didn't realize you would go to the extent of blocking my site! This is the heights...."

But he left too many loose ends...first of all, he gave everyone a warning two days beforehand that he was planning some prank. And on D-Day, instead of getting redirected to Rediff page, the browser was still showing the ouchmytoe address, and thirdly he had left his hit counter in a remote corner of the page, visible only when scrolled down.

Nevertheless, the prank was a good one, going by the number of horrified comments "You should have shifted to blogspot when you had the time","This is eerie" and all, it had hit the bull's eye.

Farewell Season

The farewell season seems to have begun. In its fullest form.

Soon after Shan left, Niral left Pune for Bangalore, in preparation for her higher studies abroad. Varun will be leaving Pune on April 7th, again to Bangalore on a transfer from Geometric. Good luck both of you.

Last week, Kavash left the company, and Pune, for Fidelity, Bangalore (yet again). He got a lucrative package, they tell me. Good for him. After Balivada, he is the first one to leave the batch after completion of training, and as it seems, he may just be the start of the exodus. Farewell, mate, and good luck.

Deep bid a farewell of a different kind. To bachelorhood. Last week, Deep and Nupur made it known that they would marry each other on July 12 in Ranchi. Its always a nice feeling to see the twosome, who spent so much time with each other, tie the knot and look together at the future. Happy married life, both of you.

And finally, and most importantly, Ayhay flew to London today. From Friday, all I saw of him was a huffy puffy mass going around from floor to floor getting his paperwork done. Considering that it this was his first flight ever, the whole of Saturday we shopped for him, from underwear to overcoats, until we were dog tired and the bill threatened to run towards the wrong side of five figures.

That makes two in my flat who went to the UK. Must be something with the room. Me shifting to the other room too... :) Anyway, Crazy Frog (because he loves the Ding Ding) will be back on May 27th. Gives me some time to compose a long list...*evil grin*

Bengal and Indian English literature

Shobhaa De: Arguably India's most recognised woman writer. Popular for her sauce-n-sleaze novels like "Sultry Days", "Starry Nights", "Socialite Evenings" etc. Comes across in her columns as a hardcore feminist, though she has herself said she's not a male basher.

Jhumpa Lahiri: Most promising writer on the Indian fiction front. Pulitzer Prize in 2000 for "Interpreter of Maladies". Her other novel "The Namesake" is being made into a movie of the same name by Mira Nair.

Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni: American Book Award in 1996 for "Arranged Marriage". Other novels include "The Mistress of Spices" (being made into a movie of the same name, starring Ash Rai) and "Sister of my Heart" (being made into a Tamil soap by Suhasini Maniratnam).

Sagarika Ghose: Senior Editor with the Indian Express, and prior to that, worked as a journalist for The Times of India and Outlook. Her first novel "The Gin Drinkers" is a comedy of manners set in Delhi’s cocktail circuit. Second novel "Blind Faith" will hit the stands late this year. Married to Rajdeep Sardesai of CNN-IBN.

Gayatri Mazumdar: Worked as a journalist at the Press Trust of India, The Independent, All India Radio and Debonair (where she also edited the Poetry Page). Her first Anthology of Poems (in English) - "Shout" - has recently been published by Sampark, New Delhi, India. It includes her poems written since she was nineteen till the most recent ones.

Bharati Mukherjee: National Book Critics' Circle Award for best fiction for "The Middleman and Other Stories". She has taught creative writing at Columbia University, New York University, and and Queens College, and is currently professor of English at the University of California at Berkeley

Do you see what I see? Make a list of women writers of India, and these would prominently figure in the list. All of them have a Bengali connection, having born or being educated in Calcutta. Those who are abroad are either first generation emigrants (Bharati, Chitra) or were born to Indian parents (Jhumpa).

The connection reflects in their writings too. I haven't read Sagarika, Gayatri or Bharati, yet. But Chitra and Jhumpa's writing teem with the Bengali flavour. In "Arranged Marriage", Chitra brings out beautifully the angst of a would-be Bengali brides, her romantic longing for a Mills-and-Boons type guy to sweep her off her feet, the elaborate rituals of the conservative Bengali family, the vivid expressions of a new bride in an unknown US city, where the only other Bengali she knows is her husband...

Jhumpa too conjures the same magic in "The Namesake". In the uncertainty of a young girl who settles with her husband in the US, and how she misses the wide terraces of her ancestral home in Calcutta, she brings out the taste of Bengal through minute descriptions of the food and living. The once-a-year visits to Calcutta, the other Bengali families, who live cities apart, but gather for celebration of Naba Barsha and Durga Pujo as if they were relatives...

Shobhaa De, however tries to keep the connection toned down in her writings, but occasionally it does show up in some of her columns. Shobhaa, in any case, converts all her novels into a feminist, male bashing conundrum. I have read a couple of her novels, and believe me, I never went ahead of her sex-sleaze-scorned woman-male bashing angle.

These writers, combined with the likes of Vikram Seth, Amitava Ghosh et al prods me to look in awe at the contribution of Bengal to Indian English literature. Add a bygone era and you have innumerable stalwarts to adorn your list.

Is it just coincidence, or is it something with the Bengali life and roots?

Happiness Abounds

The sun is that bit more brighter today, the wind has a song in it. There is a spring in my feet as I sweat it out on the treadmill. My most recent poems find their place in Starlit Nights. My laptop has been upgraded with an extra 512, and is ready for my exploits. I have been granted leaves, so I'm headed home for a long vacation of 20 days starting April 14 (nahi, shaadi nahi ho rahi hai meri...).

And yes, its one more year, and I thank you, people for keeping my cell beeping and ringing...

Yoo Hoo

YES!!! My swanky new, fully loaded notebook was delivered to me.

After a lot of deliberation, and hours of company internet spent on shortlisting the various models of HP on offer, I had settled for a dv1386TU model. As luck would have it, the model was being phased out by HP, and they gave me a better configuration at a reasonably lesser rate. Combined with Srik's employee discount, I got it at almost a steal.

Allow me now to yap on my newest toy. Its a dv1624TN, the latest stallion from the HP stable. Its powered by a 1.66 GHz Intel Core Solo processor, and has a 512 MB RAM ( I'm adding one more 512 MB to the other slot ). Storage is an ample 80 GB, and comes with a DVD Writer. It also has a 6-in-1 media card reader, 3 USB ports and the normal I/O ports. It weighs 2.4 kgs and has an integrated webcam and microphone. 2 headphone jacks see to it that you dont have to watch a movie sharing your headphones.

The best part is it comes with Quickplay, which means that if all you need to do is play DVD / VCD / ACD / mp3 CD or movies/music from the HDD, you need not boot the PC up. It works like a normal DVD player, and comes with a remote too, which you can tuck in the PCMCIA slot, when not needed. A set of headphones are included. XPH is pre-loaded.

Looks are gorgeous, silver on the outside and black on the inside. Media buttons come with a blue backlight, and so do the status lights. The front panel is very aesthetically designed and slopes forward like the hood of a car, giving it that extra sleek look.

I'm just ogling at it from the past three days, will yap more on this later.

Full Circle

I guess this is what you call coming around a full circle.

Some time in the past, I had created an account in Orkut. I even added a few friends, and scrapped here and there, to get a hang of it. But then I realised, it was getting painstakingly difficult to reach out to everyone at once, I have had to scrap the same things in quite a few scrapbooks...

Moreover, firewalls blocked Orkut, and I switched to blogs. When a very close friend visited me recently, she said all our school friends could be reached through Orkut, and said she had added my name, but rarely saw me operational on Orkut.

That did it. Now I want to be on Orkut, but can't. That's because I forgot my username. Now I am searching high and low for my old username, but I am not finding it. Even Orkut is not helping me out :((

Anyway, now that the firewalls have been relaxed, I have created a new profile on Orkut and all you people out there on Orkut, add the newer profile...there are two profiles, don't get confused, both are ME only.

Also, I created a new blog on blogspot, for my literary side. Named Starlit Nights, this blog will carry my poems, and the little bit of fiction I have managed to write. The link is http://undertheshiningstars.blogspot.com.

Adios

Farewell

Today again we were playing Reply-All, and the topic was on the snap taken on the weekend Shanthi left.

The first thing I noticed about Shan when I met her was her hair. Long, strong and silky. I have used the same words in orkut as well, but I will let that be. The ultimate buggable creature, Shan was the best person to try your dry humour on. Good soul that she was, she never took it to heart. Which made us raise the bar higher and higher.

The first of those started when she accompanied us to Mahabaleshwar, and was doing a Rajnikanth sitting in the front seat. From the road to the Narayanpur temple, to the cliffs of Mahabaleshwar and Panchgani, I bugged her no end. That was the start of a beautiful relationship, which parted ways a couple of weeks back.

Mahabaleshwar to Shirdi to Dive Agar to Goa to Khandala-Lonavala, we had so much fun. Like the time when we always teased her about her college where there is gender discrimination, even in college buses (girls sit on left side, boys sit on right side ... girls dont wear trousers, boys dont wear t-shirts ... girls boys dont talk, or you fail in the exams) ... like the time when we hitched a ride in Goa, and her eyes went wide as she said "Lorry?"... like the time when we walked back from Senapati Bapat road after devouring pizzas...

Like the time we teased her about her innumerable "boyfriends" here ... like the time her mom served her a few more dosas when she tried to say "no" in kannada ... like the time she said she would lose weight by walking, and it rained on the day she decided to walk ... like the time we splashed her name all over the office, and in the newsletter on her birthday during the annual pre-bash ... like the time when Ayhay sang a song for her in the canteen ... like the time when she applied mehndi on Sushma's hands...

Putting mehndi was one thing she did superbly, every two-three weeks her room mates used to show their hands "See, Shan put this...".

At times giving you gyan(She's Sun certified Java, mind you), at times dumber than the "dumbest blonde joke ever", she was one heck of a person to be with. She had this rickety old laptop, which would run only on AC, nevertheless it was our only means to watch movie after movie (only one movie...number of times...thanks to Beryle) on innumerable weekend afternoons. It also helped Gokul to study for his Interwoven test. Stupid gal took it with her, even though it was adding 4 kgs to her already heavily overweight luggage.

A constant companion in our pizza outings, Shan always comes when we talk of US. And with Shan comes McKinsey. And her Vince mama. And her meeting with the Pope. And the awesome plum (read rum) cakes she got from Pondy.

Chechi will miss her for the time she spent with her, Gokul will remember her for the fellow LT she was, Vidya and Beryle will remember her for obvious reasons, and the rest of us will remember her for the person she was. A nice friend, a warm hearted lovable girl who never hurt anybody, Shan left Pune two weeks back for "green"er pastures in the US. And I wish her goodluck, and hope our paths cross again in the future.

Holi Hai

Holi khele raghubeera...awadh mein...holi khele raghubeera...

Happy Holi.

Pride or Shame

March 13 will be a landmark day for the Indian armed forces. For the first time in its history, a lady officer will command the Passing Out Parade at Armed Forces Medical College here. 34-year-old Wahida Prizm from Jammu & Kashmir is the daughter of a teacher in Rajouri who was gunned down by militants in 2001. Born in a middle-class family at village Thanna Mandi on March 11, 1972, she was commissioned into the Indian Navy on November 10, 1997, after passing her MBBS from Jammu Medical College. Their saga of valour does not end there, in fact, it runs in the family. Her husband Major M F F Khan is a former short-service commission officer, and her sister is an inspector with the J&K police force. Read the full story here.

The double murder of a lawyer Anuratha Mahajan, and her mother Swarana Mahajan, who was also a lawyer, has once again triggered debate on Delhi being a safe city for single women. Swarana was a widow, while Anuratha had separated from her husband, and both women were living together in the flat in which they were murdered. The commercial capital Mumbai too saw the rape of a 52 year old woman, on the pretext of offering her a lift.

Is it just a coincidence that whenever we have reason to hold our head high in pride, an equally or more disastrous act weighs it down in shame.

Blank Noise Project and Women's Day

I came across this Blank Noise Project via a link from other blogs. When I read about Annie's street harassment, and Hema's single-girl-on-a-train post, I can only say "SORRY" for being a part of the "male" society which left a scar on their persona. I know it doesn't help, but there is only so much we can do. I have been in such situations before, and when you say all this, I can only say "I agree" and hang my head in shame.

There was this time when I was teaching my cousin to ride a bicycle, sitting on the carrier behind, and guys from the street behind passed filthy comments. "Teaching her to ride ... from the behind". My cousin was probably too young to understand it, or may be she did, and kept quiet. I wanted to thrash the imbeciles, but there was nothing I could do. I was all of 15 then, and these were men almost my uncle's age.

Then there was the guy who stretched his legs under the seat and tried to play with the feet of a female friend I was travelling with. She promptly stomped on his toes, and knowing her, I'm sure he would have bled if he wasn't in shoes.

2004 passed-out engineering graduates in and around Bangalore will remember their Oracle walk-in. Not for the jobs they got or missed. Girls will remember that day, not for the physical bruises in the melee, not for the material losses like cellphones, spectacles and slippers, but for the hundreds of hands which pinched their behind, for the unknown hands that felt them up. Guys I know to be born lechers, boasted about it. They had already stripped the girl in their mind. The lecherous stares, the eyes which stealthily go 'downtown', even as a girl is being introduced, the hands which never let go of a handshake until the girl makes it all-too-limp. I wonder what they get by two seconds of female flesh contact. I am reminded of Shobhaa De's article in The Week, where she writes about lecherous men in Mumbai locals fantasising about their daily dose - two bottoms pinched, one breast cupped, two minutes of rubbing against a sleeveless hand, one toe against a waxed leg...

Personally, I am all for girls to be independent. I applaud it when they stand up for their rights. I encourage them when they strive to be self-sufficient. I appreciate it when they break the "male bastions". I congratulated a very close friend when she fought her way and made a guy get up from the ladies seat, because she was uncomfortable standing in the back of the bus with other guys. People really close to me know how I feel about it.

But, there are also times when I have myself escorted female friends out of a park when people passed comments because we sat together. I have hung my head, tongue tied, while walking together on the beach at night. I have let them drag me out of situations where the guy walking with a chip on his shoulder. Like Rajesh, my inaction at times makes me feel I'm an accomplice. I am unable to say anything when a female friend drags me away from a potential situation saying, "We have learnt to live with it."

Why? Why have you learnt to live with it?

zigzackly makes an interesting point when he draws a comparison on harassment. Is it harassment when a guy asks a gal out? Most definitely no. Then is it the lack of polish that maked the difference? Roadside romeos seeking a chance also do the same, but in a rude, crude manner. And what would you call the polished ones, who send flowers and candy repeatedly, and won't take no for an answer?

The problem is in differentiating these. These are grey areas which cant be shackled into black and white squares. Nobody is born a gentleman. Gentlemanly qualities are acquired. Respect for women in imbibed. Chivalry needs to be developed. And which is why this post finds its place in the blogspace. Even if one person in my miniscule readership reads this post and the links, and turns a wee bit better, I am vindicated. Slowly but surely, the cat calls will stop, and a day will dawn where men will respect a woman's privacy, dignity and grace. And until then, we will have to keep moving the wheel, and improving ourselves and those around us.

To all those women I love, I respect, I care for and share my tears and laughter with, have a great Womens Day.

QnR: Partyspeak

A party for R is a all-night all-guys drinking spree, unless otherwise specified. When the guys meet, they are greeting each other, backslapping and pulling each other's legs. Every one speaks in a common language. Before drinks that is. Afterwards, you can start counting the languages. Every damn thing comes out, and is discussed at length. From the first crush to the last heartbreak, everything is revisited. College life comes out, vivid as ever, memories are refreshed, jokes cracked, a detailed analysis is done vis a vis life then, and it is agreed that life was much more fun then, and another round is served. So on it goes into the night.

The morning after, friendships are at an alltime high. Should Q call anyone "R didnt come home last night", half a dozen friends would vouch that he was with them the last night. And then half a dozen calls would go to R's cell, saying Q had called. And R would have a tough time saying all seven of them were together, catching up on life at a eighth person's house.

Conversations with his male friends are over in less than a minute. He can convey a hundred things in "Yes, Ok...No not that, the other one. Yep. U bet. Thats on me, yes. Sure, Bye". The others understand too. When he says "nothing", there is no need to ask "You sure?". God forbid you walk away saying OK, when she says "Nothing". With girls everything is the opposite. Nothing always means there is something. She is not fine when she says "Fine". A Maybe is most definitely a Yes, and a "Thanks a lot" is absolutely no thanks.

QnR: May I take you out for dinner?

He will eat anything anywhere.

Whether it is a chai at a footpath hotel or sushi in a suburban deli, he will not fuss too much. In the rare case that he doesnt like anything, he will just not eat it. Take her out on a treat -- "The guy put his hand in the jug, how can you drink from it" at the footpath, "The plate has something on it, lets go somewhere else" at the chat center, "The service is so late, has he gone to grow the cereals?" at the restaurant, "The prices are so high, I can make better manchurian at home", at the suburban deli, "The food is so oily" at the bhajia stall, "The cup is dirty" at the tea stall.

He is like "Kya naatak hai yaar, we guys have been doing these things for so many years before we met you gals...zinda nahi hain kya?"

QnR: Shopping et al

No matter what you do, he gets his clothes dirty in half a working day. And he is not overly bothered about it. A shirt will be worn as long as the deo does its job and it will be washed only when it becomes unwearable. I will not write about jeans. Finding an ironed shirt is an impossible task in the room. Announce a client visit or a crucial interview at short notice, and he will either wear a friend's clean shirt or buy a new one. Shoes are polished only once on the day of wearing. Any dust that the left shoe accumulates after the polish will see the calf portion of the right trouser and vice versa. Canvas shoes are never washed and are made to undergo the ultimate test of quality and endurance.

Two sets of shoes are enough for him. She, in contrast, is always short of footwear. Every dress should have a matching footwear and every footwear will have a matching dress. In fact she has only two problems: 1. Too less clothes to wear. 2. Too less wardrobe space.

He is generally clear-headed while shopping. A trip to buy a pair of trousers will end in just that. He knows the cut, the type, the fabric, and all he has to do is go to the store, pick the stuff, pay the bill and outta there. She will spend half a day (lunch included) to buy a single top, when she had actually come looking for a skirt, which someone in her parlour said was on sale.

He can finish shopping gifts for three weddings, two birthday parties, a social gathering and a thanksgiving in a single trip of one hour. She needs to be taken seven times, to seven different shops to search seven gifts and shortlist one for each occasion. Each gift has to be different and of a different price range. God, she even starts rating the recipients, "He is more close to me ya, I cant give him this.", "Arre, Seema is also giving him the same thing, ya". He goes "God, give them anything yaar, the wedding couple will be more interested in their honeymoon, they wont sit and compare who gave what." Then he cracks this joke which goes "Men will pay Rs.200 for something they really need, even if it costs only Rs.100. Women will pay Rs.100 for a Rs.200 item which they do not need, but just because it is on sale."

QnR: Life in General

She is Q. Because she is always asking "Kyon". He is R. Because he is explaining it to her, "Aw, its not like that", "Aw, it works like this".

Someone had asked me once, why only Q and R? Why not something else. Well, Someone, now you know.

He is generally messy, and comfortable in his own mess. He can live in absolute harmony with his remote, laptop, mobile, chargers, wallet, watch, bike keys, towel, tracks, yesterday's shirt, jeans, belt, specs and newspaper all lying on his bed. He can give you money, answer a call, watch TV, put two chargers in the socket and switch them on with a flick of the rolled up newspaper, all with the slightest movements of his body. He can find his things in the mess, wherever they are. The worst case is he may have to yank the bedspread down, and he will definitely get the laundry receipt he was looking for.

She is cleanliness personified. God forbid her cleaning out his room and bring some order into his life. He will go out and call her from the PCO to find out where his mobile is, and for two days he will be on the mobile, asking her where the other things are. "Q, where is my charger?", "Q, there was this recharge coupon near the pillow, where did you keep it?", "Where are my bike keys, yaar, why do you keep miss-placing things?". "It is there only, R, just look around" will only get "It is not anywhere near the bed" in response.

The bedspread may not have been changed for two weeks at a stretch, but he can never see the dirt on it. In extreme circumstances, he resorts to reverse engineering, and the thing is taken care of for 2 more weeks. This goes on until Q comes and gives him a earful, or some other person of the other sex comes and explicitly spells it out "CHANGE THE BED SPREADS".

Ask him about it, and he will only say "Boys will be boys, Oh oh Oh oh Oh oh...".
There is more.