Top 10 possible reason Bangalore did not go out for Vote

According to certain media reports (do not know if these are paid or unpaid) only 56% of Bangaloreans voted yesterday. Using my super secret research team of ninjas, I set out the real reason why bangalore did not vote. My team of ninjas surveyed every part of bangalore in such a secrecy that no one came to know about it. Enlisting the top ten reasons why bangaloreans missed voting yesterday.

1. It was not a holiday in America.
2. They avoided traffic jam towards pooling booth.
3. Polling booth was far away from Infosys office
4. Polling booth was not inside forum mall.
5. There was no home delivery service.
6. The polling booth didn't have AC. Mall did.
7. Election timing clashed with gym appointment.
8. They had very urgent work in office. Manager promised pizza.
9. Last night's Biryani was too spicy.
10. Finally a four days long weekend, time to catch up on sleep that was missed.

There you go. If you live under the rock and have woken up just now, your chance to make a difference to this nation is gone. You won't get such a chance for another five years, lets pray that a good candidate has got maximum number of votes.

This list is a humorous parody and not to be taken seriously, no harm intended to any institute or named company above.

[Mythological][Fantasy][Short Story] Guide of Death



The only truth in the universe is death. Extinction. Annihilation. In a highly fluid environment one must be prepared for change, extinction is the natures way of telling that land must be cleared for a new species to dominate. Nature is governed by a single law, Adapt or perish.

This holds true for a single individual, species, society or even a reality. Thus when Dinosaurs had fulfilled their time on earth, a meteoroid shower conveniently wiped them of their existence. The universe threw me into the liquid reality without any life support.... sink or swim, in the ancient prison of Kaladunga. I did, what I always do best, I survived. I was born in the dark cellar on the dungeon on the island of Kaladunga, and my childhood was spend getting whipped by the prison master for the sins I never committed.

For six years, after I learned to talk, I kept asking, what have I done? is being born a sin? The old priest used to visit the prison trying to teach me religion. I kept asking him, why, why did God choose me for this fate? Is God punishing me?

Every passing hour, my hatred for humanity and God increased. I had never seen the light of the day for most of my childhood. I saw only the dark cellar of my prison. The only living being in the room was a rat, which I brutally killed one day with bare hands... adapt or perish.

When I reached puberty, my security was lessened. I was allowed to mingle with other prison mates. Thus began my informal education. The prison mates told me about life, about other cultures that existed outside the prison. They didn't understand it but I understood the way society works from their stories.
From the prison guard I learned about my origin. My mother was a witch, he said, that put a spell on my father, a high ranking officer in the Church. My father used his influence to condemm by mother into the prison. I was born there to a dead mother in the same prison. My father refused to accept me and sentenced me to complete my mothers sentence.

As I grew older my arms grew stronger, when I was twently I had read all the books in the library of the prison. I was stuck in the walls of the prison but my mind had travelled the world. My favorite book was about 'Decoding the Universe' by a Prof. Columbus. Prof. Columbus talked about the law of nature and survival of the dominant species. He talked about planets, galaxies and many wonders still far away from humans. He wrote that the secret of the universe lay in the mythological scriptures. Many prison mates laughed at the idea but I knew somewhere my future lay in finding this Professor.

But to find this professor I had to break through the walls that bound me. I challenged the prison master for dominance. He came on me with all his weapons and whips while I defeated him with my bare hands. I killed most of the prison guards along with him for I had to prove my dominance, there was only one rule. Adapt or perish.

I still remember the day I walked out of the hell hole. For the first time in my life I saw sun in its magificent glory. I hated it, I prefered the darkness of my cell where I grew. I knew I had a challenger, if I had to be the most dominant, I had to dominate the bright sun. I was the devil unleashed on the planet. In the prison I had no name, just a number but in this real world, I chose the name of my favorite demon, I called myself, Kaal. To be honest, the world was not prepared for someone like me. The world was burderned with its own weight of guilt and its own shame. It didn't take me long to learn its ways, however broken they were.

Finding my father was easy task. It didn't take long to hunt him down. I had the pleasure of killing him myself. His institution was next which I inherited by force. For the untrained eye, it was mine to begin with. Power felt good, power of money and knowledge felt nice. But I had thirst for more. I had thirst for everything.

With my fathers vast property I found the were about of Prof. Columbus. He was termed heretic by the greatest clergy in the world. He headed a science unit that was hell bent on explore space. They had big ambitions of travelling through the universe in a anti-matter powered space ship. Their biggest problem was finding a suitable driver for this journey. Nobody had the guts to drive such a powerful spaceship. Once outside the earths orbit, this spaceship would be out of communication range. A simple phone call would take days or months.

All those humans who were taught by the system to lead a risk free life could not embark on this journey. But I was different, I volunteered. I was once again about to be confined into the souless darkness of the universe. They asked me if I was afraid, I was not, I was going home. I was going back into my darkness.

Floating aimlessly in the universe I learned many of its secret. This feat was not scientific but purely showcase on my enormous will power. I nearly died forty times in this uncharted territory of space but this story is not about Death, it is about life. Couple of decades ago, I mathematically proved the existence of center of universe. This was the massive pyre in which the universe burns. The central sun that fuels countless life form. The cosmic rays that could grant anyone the power to rule the universe. Perhaps there was a ruler, perhaps he was guarding the pyre.

It took me ten years to find something that could not be found. There have been attempts before me, I saw but the debris of countless ships along my path did not deter my ambition. I was going to meet God and challenge him.

I felt my destiny calling as I identified the cosmic patterns in a far off planet. Thus I had officially reached the center of the universe. It was a small asteroid with a lake in the middle filled with red liquid. It was hard to find a parking on this small rock and hence I had to crash my ship just on the edge of the lake. The moment I arrived, I felt a shiver inside the lake as if it was alive.

I knew I would be resisted but I could never believe as I saw different forms emerging out of the lake and walking towards me. The shape grew large and spoke,
"What are you doing here mortal?"
"Who are you?" I shouted.
"I am Karuna, the first Maharathi of the Kshatriya order, Son of warrior Prahasta, Grand-son of warrior Ravana and this region is under my protection. You are a mortal and are forbidden to enter the realms."
"I come from far away, I come to meet God. If you forbid me to enter the realm, I challenge you."
Karuna appeared in front of me, he was twice as large as a man and equally broad. His hand changed shape as a Axe appeared in his hand. It emited a greenish blue glow from its blade.

Karuna was definitely the biggest warrior of all times. His axe zoomed past me twice and through sheer luck I escaped. But I was also no less warrior, I had few tricks up my sleeve. One was a sword I had stolen back on earth, it was called Witch Blade, a sword crafted by the greatest warrior tribe called 'Aramis'. He could not kill a God but I definately let me defend myself against him.

A big battle followed. As the dust settled down, I survived, something I am good at. Karuna vanished in the same red lake he had appeared. Exhausted and tired I saw near the lake to take some rest. The water beneath my feet started glowing white and started rising around me. It bound me tight and I could not move. A woman dressed in white robes appeared from the lake and spoke,
"You wretched mortal," she shouted, "How care you step into the heavens? You may have defeated the Khatriya warrior, but you cannot escape from the power of Anumati and the Varunastra..."
I was totally helpless into the flexible water. Thus she carried me and condemned me to depth of the lake where I was thrown into the deep water trench...for life.

She threw me in a prison beneath the lake. But I did not worry, I was home.

She did not know, I was born into a trench like this. I have faced worst trenches than this. Hence I waited, slowly, carefully I made my way to the surface. I realized I cannot fight the weapons of God...hence the only weapon I had was stealth, something I was good at.

Shadows was my power, darkness my home. I crept past the lake, slowly, unseen, moving in the shadows and I explored. Finally, I found it, it was true, the energy was there...lying around.
I could not believe I was seeing it, from my eyes, purest form of energy, no emitting gases, no burning images....purest form of energy shaped into a cube hanging in the middle of the land. From this, sprang the millions species in the universe, from this came the countless planets, from this fueled the sun for many solar system. This was it, the cosmic energy.

To my shock and surprise, there was noone around. All those security measures, all those magical protection, everything was for nothing. There was NO GOD. There was no throne room, no ultimate. The cosmic power lay there unused, untouched for anyone to come and grab. The entire mankind in its countless battles for divinity were mistaken, there was no God, no alpha, no omega. There was no one, just a form of purest energy. As I stood there gasping at the biggest lie of humans, the protector arrived again.

"Halt," boomed Karuna again rushing from behind, "I cannot let you pass..."
"Stop him," Anumati starting waving her hands and I could hear splash of water from the lake.
Countless other faces came out of lake brandishing many weapons.
I had no moment to think. Adapt or perish. Such is the power of the brain, that before I saw the danger, a solution had formed.
It was a desperate ploy, how could I, a mere mortal tame such a vast energy? I was bound to burn into pyre, but I had no choice, the other option was...death.
I jumped into the pyre. God and I were about to become one. I plunged myself into the cosmic pyre and I felt...

Blank. Darkness. Nothing.

My soul was ripped apart, my body was burned down to ashes. Through sheer will I prevailed…adapt or perish.

For a million years, I felt nothing. I was floating in nothingness, the energy seeped in. It took me centuries to understand the power of my sneeze that can blow up the entire cosmos.
Slowly the universe started shaping in front of me and I became reality. I took form of a cluster of stars which slowly shaped up as me.

I could feel my hands and I could feel my legs and I could feel power in my fingertips.
As the universe proceeded into its own weird sense, it did notice something amiss. Something changed.
Adapt or perish. It was time the universe adopted their new ruler.

I became GOD.

(to be concluded...)

That itch on your back that cannot be scratched



"Arvind Kejriwal..." he began the sentence. Since this election has come up many of my friends are bitten by this new fever. All of the sudden, without any warning, without any notice they will begin the sentence taking name of their favorite politician (earlier the words were reserved for Sachin Tendulkar and Sehwag)
"... Arvind Kejriwal was part of the system and has finally vowed to change it," my friend said proudly driving the unserviced vehicle on M.G. Road.
"When was the last time you did a P.U.C.," I asked matter of factly because we were painting the town black.

"I don't remember," he said, "My father must have done it before he gave me this car."
"As I remember your father gave you this car almost seven years ago when we were in college, right?" I asked.
"Yeah man," he said changing the topic, "But think what Arvind Kejriwal can do when we make him the Prime Minister of the country."
"I don't think he will be able to do anything unless you control the pollution emission of this vehicle," I replied, "I think once you choose him to do his duty, you should do yours."
"Oh man," he said, "You are such a wuss. We get these P.U.C. certificates for as cheap as 1000 bucks. Relax."
"You can afford those 1000 bucks buddy, humanity cannot," I replied getting down from the car and refusing to pollute the environment anymore.
Indians have this uncanny habit of hero worshipping. First it was freedom fighters, then it was crickets for a brief moment it was also Tushar Kapoor. Every few years Indians change their heroes and keep faith in their hero. "Why tendulkar, why," my friend used to scream as he sat on the sofa with his legs above the rest and head down below (this was his ritualistic position for tendulkar to score a century), "Why did you leave the offside open!!!!"
The day Sachin Tendulkar retired, my friend deannounced living. We were hoping he would go to some himalaya to medidate and never come back but the thing about hero worship is, no one wants to do anything. After cribbing for two days completely he had a new hero, Anna Hazare.
"Rahul Gandhi is not capable of handling this country," he said to no one in particular as he entered the room.

"Did you bring milk and eggs?" his wife asked dilligently.

"No," he said, "I forgot. You go down and bring."

"You are not capable of handling this house," she said, "Don't crib about Rahul Gandhi."
We are a nation of cribbers. For almost two weeks a member in our society was complaining about not enough diesel in generator. "The prize of diesel have increased so much," he used to begin, "It is such a pain, only Narendra Modi can reduce the prize of diesel."
"Did you call the maintainence guy who was going to fine tune our generator so it can consume less diesel," asked the chairman.

"No, I forgot to do that," he said shrugging.
Even the leaders are no different, all the so-called leaders of the country are busy cribbing about each other. Every one fights for the 'issues' in the country but no one talks about solutions for them. The Aam Aadmi Party is a newly formed political party in this country. If nothing else they have adopted one quality of the mango people of the country, and that is cribbing.

Said one commuter at the traffic signal, "Don't block my way."
"It is a red light," I informed him pointing to the red light at the traffic signal.
"There is no cop around," he said, "If you want to be a wuss be a wuss, let me go."
He sped past bearing the insignia of his favorite youth leader bearing the sign, 'I support him'.

How is he going to support his leader by breaking the traffic signal is beyond me. Everyone is waiting for their next leader to come with a magic wand and transform India but no one wants to pick up the wand themself.

The battle lines are drawn on who will become the next PM. Whoever wins the elections has a big task to rescue this country from the mess. While the next PM candidate is preparing his plan to improve the country, let us sit back and think what we can change to foster this development. Stop cribbing and start acting.

Lets talk about Elephant in the room


Since the Election Commissioners Code of Conduct talking about the elephant in the room is a very painful activity, specially since Elephants are hidden from public view before the elections. But this post is not about a political party but is about the political will.

Or for that matter, the lack of it. Whenever a new political ideology grips the nation, a series of similar looking but going nowhere statements come into picture. We need to empower woman, we need to take care of the poor, the farmers are to be supported and the list goes on. Every political party goes on and on how they will 'listen' to a particular sector and help them. Here is the elephant in the room which we all conviniently ignore, corruption is not the only problem gripping this giant Union of India. Populism is.

One of the biggest rot to our system since independence is the concept of reservation. The idea of reservation started as a means to 'empower' the backward classes but turned into a means of reducing the quality of education and exploitation of the educaton system by a selected few. Populism is not a good idea for anyone.

Government is not a charity organization, you give a package to one sector, someone else has to pay for it. We all are paying prize for the reservation. Give a sect of people freebie and others will pay for it. Give free electricity to farmers and others will pay for it. Any government that offers freebie to one sect, be it caste, religion, profession or gender is not governing properly.

Election season is upon us and we are trying to realign the system of our country. We all can and should go out to vote for that one person who can make a difference. Any new government that is formed in this country is attempting to form in the most active era. Any new government that gives freebies to someone or the other will not be here to stay, they will be at the max allowed to rule only for 49 days. 

Comedy Nights are not so comedy after all!!!


On a Sunday morning as I left the humble hug of my cosy 'rajai' (a cruel form of blanket that hypnotizes you to procrastinate) to engage in the oldest profession of humans, hunt for something to eat, every door along the way was tuned into some famous show.  By the time I reached my parking, I had listened to the complete title song in bits and pieces. To their credit, one house was watching Chota Bheem but thats not the topic of this post.
Over the period of time the condition of Indian Television has deteriorated much worse than the concept of auto meter on streets of Delhi.  I had this crazy idea a couple of months back that I am going to turn into a perfect Indian. I replaced my toothpaste with Vicco Vajradanti, got a Chandrika soap and even used Chik Shampoo. During this phase I decided to abandon American television on and switch to Indian tele-serials only. Yes, that means no... wait for it... Star world HD, no HBO (gasp) and definitely no Star Movies HD (Suicidal!!!)
A week later my D2H provider was glad that I spend a lot more money in subscribing to premium channels like Star World Premiere HD, HBO Hits and HBO Defined. It was needed or the other option was to get admitted in a mental asylum which was more costly (I checked).
Here is the thing I discovered, the entire legion of writers and creative heads come up with more and more creative ideas of how to connect any Godamm story in the world to some Saas Bahu show. Every story starts with something unique, something different. One serial started with doctors in the lead and while the set was of a substandard quality (the hospital looked like a waiting room for bus stop with beds), the story proceeded at the snails pace for a month and the lead got... wait for it... married.
Another show jumped timeline faster than the Government in Delhi could survive. In a month they jumped 7 years, in another four they jumped 20 years. Before we would figure out what happened when the small kid in the show got... wait for it... married. Here is the damm thing, every sort of the show has to have a SaaS and a Bahu. Along with them comes a third person who will drive a rift between the wife and a side actor for a husband. All stories sooner or later jump the ships to the same story line. Its as if, before dinner, every writer sits down to watch what his competing show is doing and pick up stuff and try to connect it to his show.
Such is the insignificance of these writers that nowadays networks and production houses do not even bother to hire them. They will throw in a bunch of out of work celebrities or gather people that can create controversies and write a show around it. The reality shows are draining out whatever brain is left from the indian audiences. Making crappy shows may not be a big deal, but the trend becomes disturbing when families sit together and watch a Holi Special or Diwali special episode of their favorite serial and forget the festival in their own house (Marketing plug: Wanna know how they make a reality show? Transcript of what we overheard at the Double Shots inn). Celebrities endorse flat screen televisions with some advance technologies that would put alien spaceships to shame. But I don't see the point is buying a very powerful television unless you are doing a research on the clarity and lividity of the tears rolling down the cheeks.

Because I don't dare to touch the concept of 24x7 news channels, I dare to make serious comments on comedy. Or I don't. But the term comedy is misused so ballantly on the television show that even it has lost its meaning. Any show that has comedy in its name has either a laughing guest who is paid to laugh or some cross dressing actors that will make some slapstick comments and physical comedy that is not helping anyone other that the guest (who is paid to laugh remember). This person can laugh even on those poor jokes that are forwarded on whatsapp that no one likes but are forwarded anyways.

Indian television boasted at some of the classic hits, how can anyone forget Nukkad, Yeh Jo Hai Jindagi, Chandrakanta, Shanti, Hum Panch and many more that entertained us for years. These shows had situations, had grandeur, they had entertainment quality and were not merely written in hurry for making quick bucks.

Indian television is dead, sadly the oldest family member in the biggest joint family potrayed on the daily soap is still alive after 200 episodes and a million years. Till she dies, foreign televisions shows it is.

Studying Humans

"Humans are the most curious creatures," said one alien investigator to another, "They carry super computers powerful enough to launch missile systems halfway across the globe and yet they choose to use them in forwarding funny jokes about other humans that sometimes makes no sense"
"Indeed, internet is one of the most sophisticated network grid of computers we have ever seen," said the other.
"And yet the power of 30 billion connected computers is used to find pictures of other naked humans and dreams of copulation"
"That's indeed curious, pray tell me then," said the commander, "What are the most important issues that humans are researching on?"
"There is a difference of opinion on almost all issues on Earth. Humans doubt everything that is said by other humans. They even doubt our existence, in our front."
"Thats even more funny, can we attack them?" asked the commander.
"We can but it will be a fruitless effort plus we risk introducing their internet and Facebook to our teens. Oh how our kids will grow up if they keep on Whatsapping and Instagramming instead of learning to fight."
"But if we do not attack them, they might attack us."
"Only if they are not distracted from their internet." said the second.
"We need not fear them now, do we?"
"Not until their Facebook shuts down. Till then we should relax" shrugged the first.

[Play Review] Under the Chestnut Tree I sold you, you sold me



Set in the dystopian world where color is banned for artist, Debutant play Under the Chestnut Tree by Allmytea products, offers a very unique rebellion from normal trends. The play promises a very strong setting by putting in three powerful characters in a confined space. 
Sidoscope review**
Under the chestnut tree opens with a cracking radio informing the repressive state that punishes playwrights and artists for showing obscene content and tax evasion. It also talks of the sodomy law being tabled in the parliament setting up the context that this is perhaps a dystopian version of a democratic farce.

What really ticks in this play is not the idea of rebellian but stalwarts performances by the actors and powerful characters and dialogues by Akash Mohimen and Siddhart Kumar. The story unfolds very beautifully in showing the complexities of the characters life as well as their entanglement with their inner evils. The quirky at times but serious sibling rivalry between the lead Osman (Prashant Prakash) and Captain L (Siddharth Kumar), the power struggle between Captain L and Eve (Shweta Tripathi) and finally the fierce competition between Eve and Osman fueled by a powerful backstory offers the balancing climax.
The performances are equally balanced and the clever use of theatre space as well as smart direction makes this play a visual treat to watch. Finally, the ending is a bit predictable but it is really not the ending but the way the play unfolds is worth a watch.

Under the chestnut tree premiered at the Jagriti Theatre New Writing Festival in Whilefield, bangalore. Follow their facebook page for upcoming shows in your city.


**Sidoscope verdict is based on the following Sidoscore scale. All opinion is personal and honest.




The Weight of Changing Times

From time to time nowadays certain people choose to start a one sided debate against me over my views. I won't go to the length of calling these voices as an organized effort by a political outfit or a group like those high class ignorant journalist. No, these people are passionate and true believers about their political leader, spiritual leader or religious leader. I don't deny making a provoking statement so that one of these start a debate on Twitter, the intention is not malicious, mind you, because debate improves knowledge, progresses society.

Journalism was once a profession that welcomed debate, nowadays it is imposing views between commercial breaks. But bashing journalist is not the point of this post (I just do it for fun), the point of the blog is this people are afraid of change. People are afraid of things that change and will go to any length to prevent it from happening.

On the eve of Penguin rekindled the age old battle between creative liberties and milking those by selling the books by banning the book by Wendy Doniger, here are my two paisa. First, for those busy reading about the plastic surgery by Anuska Sharma and nothing else here is what happened-

Wendy Doniger has spend over 40 years researching, translating and commenting hindu scriptures and stories. She is a distinguished professor at the Divinity School in Chicago, with a PhD from Harvard and DPhil from Oxford. But all these academic and professional experience do not matter much today because, today, she is being targeted for being a Jewist American Scholar who wrote about Hinduism. The book in question has blasphemous ideas including the cover of the book which has naked woman forming a carriage of Krishna. The idea of the book starts with traditional male-bashing and Brahmin-bashing (a past time activity, I also indulge). Obviously, the true believers of Hinduism felt threatened and found their faith shaken. They protested and raised multiple court cases against the book. Penguin did what every publisher choses to do, take the easy road out. It promised to burn down the remaining copies of the book.

True Believers rejoice, for their faith is intact, there are no challengers. But should they? History has told us that only debate and intellectually challenges have helped us evolve further. You could pick up a book, read it, dismiss it and write a counterpart. Denying that the book exists and burning it down is not a healthy sign for a society to progress.

One fine day a friend of mine arrived at my doorsteps unannounced (that is rude and borderline invasive but he is my friend) "They are ruining our culture man."
"Who are?" I asked knowing the answer was going to ruin my Sunday.
"The americans man," he said simply, "Today they have proposed a anti-superstitious bill that challenges most of the ancient practices in Hindu temples man. I tell you they are going to invade us again."
"But I did not know anti-superstitious bill proposed banning of praying in Temples. I thought it had to do with Black Magic, human sacrifices and other magical remedies."
"Yes, yes but don't you see these are part of our tradition for more than 5000 years," he said highly agitated, "How can you stop our culture man? And they don't stop christian religious practices do they?"
"Actually not true, there are many black magic rituals including witch hunt and exorcism are stopped in western countries. But I don't see the relation here, this law is actually empowering the hindu religion by weeding out all the malpractices, I do not see how bad it is."
"You are influenced by those american witch doctors and their phony science. Ayurveda is a real branch of medicine and we have our own science of our own."
"Yes we do and prominent scientist like Aryabhatta, Aurobindo and many prominent scientist in India over ages are against superstitious practices."
"Who?" the final question put in a final nail in his ideology.

When external forces try to penetrate your exterior you panic and you revolt against them. People call it revolution but it is really not a revolution, it is a last desperate attempt to stay relevant. Here is the thing we all miss, change is constant, so is resistant to change. People have been resistant to change for a million years now, we hear about people revolting against Krishna when he asked them to worship Govardhan instead of Indra. People resisted when idealist proposed stopping the child marriage. Just like social media gave power to the revolutionaries, they also gave steroids for true believes. Hence the outrage that is seen globally.

"You should join us in protesting against the false jailing of our favorite Godman," he twitted to me the other day.
"Why would I do that?" I tweeted back.
"Because you are a hindu and you should support this encroachment against Hinduism." he protested back.
I shared him the link to my previous article about baba bashing.
After what was 10 sec, he replied, "oh I see you are anyways against Hinduism"
I politely send me the link to my book (which is 5 awesome Hindu stories handpicked and rewritten with a bonus story from thai Ramayana)
"I don't understand you. You are such a great follower of Hinduism why won't you support our agitation?"
Do you know why I won't support the agitation? It is the sane reason I support the book by Wendy Dongier about Hinduism although I oppose a lot of her views in the book.

The reason being: if you have to ask the reason, it's not worth it.

The times are changing, the world is changing. The weight of this change is to be borne by all or this civilization will not survive. Rome was not build in a day but it did bury under the debris of change in a day.

Debate is essential for the civilization to progress, debate is essential for country to grow. Banning of books, films or any thing that opposes the mainstream view is the favorite past time of the country. You can build bridges, you can build buildings and you can build smart cities but you will always be a developing country until you ban this notion of banning things.

Blog in the Times of Traffic


There is a inherent believe in the common public that during peak hours the horn of your vehicle magically transforms into a device that will make the traffic in front of your disappear. I find no other explanation of why people honk their horns waiting for traffic. Bangalore traffic is no different to this myth. When you live in Bangalore for more than year you don't know why you are paying so much rent when 3/4th of your day is spend in traffic jam.
On the lazy tuesday morning it took me exactly 2.58 hours to cover a distance of twelve kms giving a rise to a number of things. First, I took nice power nap in the middle of the road for almost fifteen minutes as the traffic would not move. Second, I did many phone calls to random people in my phone list giving rise to some shocking, surprising and some serious stories that cannot be shared publicly. Third, popped an idea in my mind about a blog post on traffic woes we see in India.
It thus happened, I was designated driver to pick up a presumptuous pompous Indian-Born-American-living-and-believing-himself-to-be-a-foreigner friend who returned to India after six months. As we drove around, exactly 96 secs of unable to control himself he started, 
"Those americans are so particular about their traffic. They will never break a single traffic red light," he started which is a generally acceptable form of conversation starter.
"How was your stay there, you had good food," I said politely changing the topic because I knew where it was heading.
"Food was a big challenge, these americans eat holy cow, can you believe that?" I can, "I could not find decent food there. Thats why I asked my mother to make a nice dal-chawal today."
At this moment we had reached an intersection which was completely deserted. I decently stopped the vehicle for the red light.
"Arey nobody is here," he exclaimed to my surprise, "Run over the red light, I need to eat that dal-chawal hot." He went ahead to talk about his returned from america stories, I simply wished he had returned with something more than stories. I did not run the red light.
There are people who take pride in doing things others should feel ashamed off. Spoke one rickshaw driver offering me a premium fare for breaking traffic rules, "If I go with the traffic, it will be fifteen bucks but twenty bucks and Ill go via the one-way and help you reach faster."

They say parking is a common problem in Bangalore but the old madras road is a very common parking lot with lots of vehicles parked for hours. During this period you actually feel the world has stopped and want some peace and quiet. You are contemplating the choices made by you in entire life, that has transitioned your journey to this point. You plunge into a nostalgic moment remembering those who were left behind in the journey of life and at that moment... a very deadly horn barks at your ears by a very bored bus driver. Apparently, honking horn is a favorite past-time of bored drivers.

Taking about past-times, in India the training for dare-devil stunts is taught on the streets. While it is normally accepted that footpaths are meant for riding a motor-cycle or using it for hawkers, it was a slightly surprising to see bikes climb over a girder lying on the footpath (which is the proof of the country that 'manufactures' worlds largest engineering population but that is for other day). Not one but total seven riders attempted this daredevil stunt back to back and got stuck over that girder.

It offered a very nice entertainment for almost twenty minutes to see every biker attempt the jump and failing miserably. You get to learn new things sometimes you learn spanish while staying stuck in traffic, other times you get entertained by listening to Kannada songs on the radio (and no I do understand Kannada, its just fun to listen to them), sometimes you can read your book standing in while, while once a while you can publish an entire blog post waiting for the signal to turn red.

Because life is all about moving ahead. Life is moving. The traffic poorly not so much.





But Women Need to Be Empowered Too

After Mr. Bharathi of the AAP fame decided to raid a so-called African drug party in kirkee, the residents cheered. After all these Africans were walking around wearing short dresses and "ruining" the "sanskar" on their boys.

Of course it was the personal agenda of law minister cum Batman had to take matter in his own hands. The police are again in league with the corrupt members of parliament. He is the minister we deserve not the minister we need and all that. Ofcourse the superman without underpants or the one man army against corruption is not far left behind. While Mr. Kejriwal the honorable chief minister of Delhi had to run away from his own junta durbar due to errant public, he found his strength in doing a protest against the central government.

A wise man once said With great powers comes great responsibility but these words are wasted on the crusaders against corruption as they go on stage with a list of people who are corrupt with no proof attached. Neither did they think it was wise to approach the police with proof of corruption against these politicians, because obviously, there is no aam aadmi police force yet, so the remaining cops are corrupt and in league with these politicians.

While corruption is a major disease corrupting the roots of this glorious nation, populist policies and bad governance are not very far behind. Heard of a doctor who insisted in curing the cancer but refused to give medicine for common cold?

One of the biggest common cold this country is suffering from is giving subsidiaries, freebies and food securities to people below poverty line. The politicians make very sentimental statement about how every man should have a morsel before going to sleep and all that. The only problem is, most of these politicians keep their money safely in swiss accounts and people like me work for almost half the day to just fulfill their ambitions.

India is suffering from the dynasty politics by one family for over six decades. Oddly the one man who is against dynasty is the next hier to this dynasty. Oddly enough I thought the interview of Rahul Gandhi was the high point of my week but surprisingly, there was someone who could beat that interview easily.

I am talking about Dr. Asha Mirge, a gynecologist from Akola and currently member of Maharashtra woman's commission and also a wonder woman in her part time explained the entire concept of self defense. "Girls should be careful about what they wear. They should mind the time of their moving out. Girls' body language should not be such that it invites attention of a potential rapist lurking around" was her super formula to save every girl. Obviously, the rapist are known to follow the timings and they definitely do not rape anyone wearing full clothes. There are no rapes happening in middle eastern countries, haven't they made burqa for that... which is working fine for last hundreds of years.

But we have to empower woman, Rahul Gandhi spoke about woman empowerment for 23 times during the interview with Arnab Goswami. Should we expect some full clothes security bill for girls named after some Gandhi family member that will provide gowns and burqa (because this post is secular you see) for woman in this country in the days to come?

[Play Review] Love during office hours- Internal Affairs

Sidoscope Verdict**
There was a time when love stories meant prolong exchange of letters (some using pigeons just to add glamor) and running around the trees. Love inspired movies would not reach the part of bedroom till the very end and sometimes not even beyond that. Not with Sid and Rhea, whose love is served fast food style. When new joinee Sid and Rhea go on a date 'fixed' by the common friend they end up in a one night stand.

Adhir Bhat and Bobby Nagra are clever writers who go into the history of what happened a week before their fateful night. Rhea definition of an ideal man is "neither a rapist, nor a serial killer and definitely not a boy from Delhi". Sid always wonders, "Why are girls always like this". Directed by the rom-com director Adhaar Khurana, and adopted from the scottish play 'My Romantic History' by Daniel C Jackson, Internal affairs brings you the confusion, characterization and charisma of the modern youth and the modern work on weekdays, party on weekends attitude.

Two senior actors Hussain Dala and Shiksha Talsania (Lakshmi from Wake up Sid) support the lead actors with their versatile, witty and clever punches throughout the play. The lead protagonist played by Priyanshu Patel (Sid) and Shriya Pilgaonkar (Rhea) bring the joy of office affairs very beautifully on stage.

It is a must watch and a welcome break for audience who get dragged into the mindless parade of senseless stories people like to call the cinema.

Where: Canvas Laugh Factory: Palladium Mall

When: Feb 15-16

Tickets: BookMyShow

** Sidoscope Verdict based on the following SidoScore









One Size Fits All



When the digital meter of weighing scale shows you 3 digits the universe around you changes. Suddenly you are not a normal human but someone who should be ashamed of his own existence. Every time you walk past a gym or a health club you are reminded (by someone else) about how in bad shape you are. You have to explain in detail to every tom, dick and harry you meet on the street of why you are not in a good shape because the universe is full of people with no belly and you are simply an outsider.
There are many direct assumptions made when you are oversized, for one, everyone who breathes oxygen and capable of communicating in human language is an expert in Obesity charts. They also are knowledgable of Body Mass Index and know how to drive a rocket to the moon. "You are heavily obese," they announced to the general knowledge of everyone around, "Oh is it, I didn't know that." for someone who has touched 3 digits on weighing scale a decade ago, it should not be a big surprise.
The old joke on how many months pregnant spoken by people of different ethnicity, age and gender shows the fringes of limits of our thinking creatively. On last count, 3948 people asked me how many months was I pregnant and decided to laugh on it. To be very honest for the first 32 times I really felt bad but then it was plain sad.

The high point of being fat comes when you go for clothes shopping. You are going through the fabric the mall has painstakingly purchased and kept on display and the salesman is simply looking at you.

"Do you have something in my size," I ask.
"Erm... I..." the salesman, if he is junior, is looking around for his supervisor.
"Yes," the senior walks in all confident, "How can I help you?"
"You have this in a better size?" I ask.
He looks around trying to hide his embarrassment, "You..." he tries to save the day, "Can try this one..." pulling out a embarrassingly largest size but still sufficiently smaller that what will fit you, "It is the largest we have."
"No this won't work, this is two size smaller that what fits me," I say, matter of factly.
The salesman who believes in Santa claus adds, "Try this once every store has a different size chart."
Wait. What.
As always the size doesn't fit and the salesman runs off to do something else.
Sometimes the size does fit and in that case you excitedly ask, "This size fits, you got any colors in this size?"

"Erm... actually... erm...," the salesman fumbles for words, "This is the only piece we have."

Being fat is not usually that bad considering you always get few sympathy points all the time.

"Don't give him a lot of physical work," they say, "he cannot handle it."

Sometimes situations are plain stupid with random facts about being fat.

"...but because fat people cannot balance their bodies, they are more clumsy," proclaimed the teacher with the air of confidence reserved for the spokesperson of a failing political party.
Proving no more scientific or statistical proof the teacher told the impressionable young kids.

But then sometimes it is bluntly funny.

"You should do something about your stomach," she said walking towards me out of nowhere.
"I do," I replied simply, "I eat a lot."

Being fat is not something you are proud of but then again it is not something you should be ashamed of. It is funny to see people looking at your paunch and making random science looking statements. It is also funny for people who cannot run a mile to save their ass while being chased by a giant bear on a metro station make comment of the unhealthy eating habits (bear on a metro station, really? I should work more on my metaphors). But then again having a belly is sometimes fruitful as happened with me during the belly landing.

The world is made of different types of people fat, thin, long, short and many other. There is no one size that fits all and nobody knows what is the right size to be in. You should not worry if you are fat as long as you are fit. After all the future is made up of many people who are fat, you are just born in the wrong century. Your argument is invalid.