Overdose killed the Comedy Star!

I like Kapil. He gave a new meaning to the comedy on Indian Television – He MADE IT FUNNY.

I like Honda. They give us reliable cars.

But whatever these two did, when they put their minds together – I DEFINETLY DID NOT LIKE IT.

Kapil, a small towner, makes me beam with pride every time an Amitabh Bachan walks in on his show.  You know, it’s people like him which give people like us a ray of hope. That never mind the jacks and the pulls and the rich powerful genes, HARD WORK STILL IS THE ULTIMATE KEY TO SUCCESS.  

But does that mean that I like how he pulls those mean oneliners on his wife (Comically masquerading their way through the show as ‘funny shots’)?  I guess not!  Every time he tells her to have a good look in the mirror, or to you know learn from the ‘hot’ women guests a thing or two, or generally to “just buzz off”. A tiny part of my heart feels the sting – but I never let myself look into it because I fear being termed ‘uptight’. ‘You are looking too much into it? It's just a well meaning comey show,' I’d reason with myself and pretend laugh with friends even though the insensitivity in those one liners may sometimes (I repeat, sometimes) be gut wrenching. 

Let’s just say there is a kid in the family and he is watching his elders really laugh and enjoy at how Sharma ji converses with his wife… Are you telling me that, that kid is not going to pick a thing or two from Bittoo Sharma? Again Kapil is not really at fault per say – Just like Honey Singh – he is only representing our general mindset as a nation. But just cause it is general – does it become right?

That sometimes this ‘family show’ crosses all boundaries – (And yes, this from a Splitsvillan) 

How most of the punch-lines of the show are appearance centric? Here good looking women, are celebrated with unmatched gusto but god forbid, you are fat and you are dead. And what’s with that exaggerated goatee on Palak? Am I the only one disgusted?

That women are nothing but talking props on his show, is another thing. Well, of course not the make belief one’s. I am talking about the real one’s  - be it  bua, some padosan or the dear wifey. They are all nothing but meager means to gratify the purpose of ‘sexual objectivity’, again in a funny funny manner.

Well, as long as he makes us laugh! We’d bear with just about anything. Right? We are Indians .. Bearing is our middle name.

But what happens when he loses the comic effect but gets even more ludicrous than before?

Ek saath 7-7 log baith sakte hain, vo bhi adults? Really, Kapil? Really Honda people? Hum ne to suna thi ki achey din aane waale hain – but aapke itne bure din aa jaeyenge – ye nahi pta tha!

http://www.youtube.com/attribution_link?a=82FLUJOy2aY&u=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D3jpLOO8SRM0%26feature%3Dshare 

This commercial just proves what I feared will happen one day –There is nothing comical about this advertisement but it still retains all the possible flaws.

Here, I leave you with a thought.

An SSB interview going on…

Interviewer: So why do you think you can be an officer?

Interviewee: Because sir, I may not have any of the officer like qualities, but bad habits saari hain. I too smoke and drink, sir ji!

 

Just another day on facebook!

Hey check this out. Cute profile picture ya.. I wonder why I never noticed him before.

Click – Yeah, he is backpacking across the Wicklow national park – just my kinda guy

Next Click – And that stub.. really really suits him .. Manly!

Next click – Ah! A crooked crooked smile!

Next click – Wow and he has a pet dog  - heart skips a beat.

Next click – Boy! He is tall. Wah! Wah! Hi-5 Cupid!

Next click – He sure seems like a hit with his friends too.

Next click – aww and in spite of all this he is a mama’s boy.

Click-click-click-click-click – All pics of him alone or with a bunch of friends. HE IS SINGLE. 

Next Click – Check out his last post he is kinda funny too.

Next click – A caption to his picture reads “I did not want the fish curry though.” Thank God! He did not ‘wanted’ the fish curry and he is a vegetarian. Could I be anymore impressed?

Next click –  Tch… But why is he clicking a picture of himself in front of the mirror? (Tiny heartbreak) Shake it off – shake it off - So what? He is a little self obsessed, it’s endearing really.

Next click – Is that an ear piercing?

Next Click – Pink? Oh no, it’s so not his colour. (Not getting a good feeling about this one.)

Next click – Now did he really have to put a picture of when he had the ‘tere-naam’ haircut.. I mean I know every Indian boy goes through that phase (It’s mandatory) but not every Indian boy sticks on facebook the proofs of every weird phase they went through during their fascinating teens. Other wise it’d be called the ‘phase-book’

Next click : Cowboy hat? Really?

Next click – wait a minute – is that the dog again? What the fuck is he doing with it?

Next click – Likes Honey singh .

Next click – What’s he doing with his head in the toilet?– (This seals the deal – Can’t believe I fell for this one.)

Next click – Back to my homepage.

Next click- settings

Next click – deactivate account

Next click – google

Next click – Will I die single?

Because somethings just last a life time :-)

So you know back in the day, we used to have this annual carnival at my hometown. Nothing over the top – No Brazilian dancers or colorful parades. But it meant the world to me. It took place in the month of March, which also happens to be my birthday month, and more often than not the carnival week used to coincide with my birthday. Need I ask for more? As a spinning top, all of eight, I used to be all over the place. For a kid hopped up on sugar, being in that place used to be like finding gold. No, wait, not just finding gold but finding gold with ice-cream on it.
Every year as soon as the calendar was out, I used to earmark those special magical seven days of endless fun. You know? The merry-go-round, the giant wheel or even the snake charmers for that matter (told you it was a small town!) So much so, that at a tender age of seven I knew that I had to save up for the big event all round the year, because whatever I’d manage to save, mum and dad, tripled that sum, respectively. So the more I saved the merry-go-roundier it was. I’d show off my giant pool of money to my friends and cousins before all the fun began, because no one in my entire group could even come close to me. I was always on top of the pocket-money pyramid. (This from a girl, who has never been a topper in a class of forty – her entire life.)
Anyway year after year passed like that and by the time I reached eighth grade, I had become this self proclaimed version of ‘too cool for school.’ Suddenly the carnival seemed lame to me and I couldn’t make, what the fuss was all about? I don’t know when exactly this happened but suddenly the people who attended that thing, seemed nothing but big dorks to me.
‘Huh! Losers,’ I’d role my eyes, ‘I am just glad I am not into this stuff anymore.’
Little did I know that some fifteen years down the line – I’d miss being a part of that little space so much that suddenly the best lounges in the city wouldn’t make me feel one millionth as happy as I was back then. But at that point of time my hatred for the little carnival only increased with every passing year. Something that brought me such joy as a child was now nothing but a mere nuisance. ‘Urghhh what’s with so much noise?’ I’d whine every evening and my parents would just give me a blank expression, which was enough to send chills down ones spine. ‘Ah! But what do they know?’ I’d shrug.
Life zigzags funnily – at fifteen I thought I owned the world, at twenty six not any more. EYES WIDE OPEN.
Some five years ago I visited home and found my little nephew equally (if not more) excited about the whole thing. ‘What? They are still doing it,’ it was as if I had dumped that memory, underneath all that crap life had handed over to me (Heartbreaks, tears and irony to name a few).
‘Of course it’s going on,’ said my father, ‘What did you think? It’d stop just because some people stopped valuing it?’ SARCASM DRIPPING ALL OVER THE PLACE.
‘No, that’s not what I meant,’ I replied quickly, ‘how about I come along?’ I questioned, in my bid to do some damage control.
‘Sure why not? Although let me tell you it’s not half as fancy as things are in your big city.’
‘Papa, will you let go now?’
And so I did visit that carnival after a lapse of say eight nine years. And boy! Nothing had changed. Kids were still fluttering all over the space. There was firework. There was light and most importantly, there was joy. But you know what gnawed at my insides though? It was that feeling – when you let go of someone great in your life – just cause you thought you were too good for them. And when you realize your mistake you come running to them and nice people, that they are, they forgive in a jiffy. But it’s that niceness which kills you inside, for being so selfish to them at one point of time. It could be anyone, your ex, your best friend, or may be a distant cousin. That’s the feeling I got that day. Even though the best memory of my life had welcomed me back with an open heart – it was me who could not see eye to eye – with my sweet little carnival. It felt as if I didn’t belong there anymore. As if I had lost that right to claim it as my best memory and boy it hurt!
But for what it’s worth, I did see it as my first of the many eye openers to come. And there on onwards, there has been not a single year when I have not made it to that carnival, in the hope that it accepts me once again :-)

When I am not here

You can find me here :-)

This Father's day!

This Father’s day!

My Hero, My friend, My Safety net

There’s no one who loves me more - I bet.

First time I rode my bike,

There you were, watching with pride.

As if I had conquered the Everest,

You rooted for me, you were the best.

Remember when I was afraid of dark?

Leave me alone and my throat would parch.

I was your daughter and you loved me alright,

But enough of the delusions? You had to set me right.

So you left me in the jungle -- in the middle of the night,

With a rusty old clock and a funny flash light.

‘Say hi to the ghost if he stops by.’

‘Trust me you’ll like him, he is a funny guy.’

‘See you in an hour, beta I love you,’

And Off you vanished, without a clue.

No wonder I howled in the 5^th gear

Through hell I went --- to kill that fear.

Off course you didn’t leave, you were standing right by my side,

Only to teach me a lesson, you had to hide.

This I didn’t know at that point of time,

To me, what you had just done was a big fat crime.

Sure no one showed up all that while (not even a mirchi or a half sliced lime)

But the lesson I learnt was worth every dime.

Then came that time when my Hero changed

Your efforts to rescue – went all in vain.

Gone were the days of the ghost in the meadow,

Now I was keen to outrun your shadow.

I was this pesky little thing you know,

Who felt ‘She knew it all’ – Her biggest flaw.

Anticipating what lay in store,

You stood by my side, but said no more.

Not long after I learnt a lesson again.

This time not so easy and with a lot of pain.

Brokenhearted I came to you

Didn’t have to say a word – you already knew.

Blunder on top of a blunder,

How easily you forgive me? I wonder.

So I guess this father’s day,

What I am trying to say,

Is the thing that doesn’t get said enough

When I hit rock bottom and the going gets rough,

It’s your wise words which make me tough.

Dear father, I love you more than I care to confide,

You are my friend, philosopher and my guide.

I wish you health, joy and pride,

May the life ahead be a blissful ride!

Bliss