Human Resources

Also called Human Resources

“He knows exactly when to start walking away, anticipating the beginning of the ass-kicking session,but then something overpowers his intelligence and the car slots into reverse”

This is from a real conversation about real, really stupid people. People who I have had to work with. This is my Quote of the week, possibly month.


Tick Tock, TUK TUK baby!

The following is a rap song, brace yourself.


I am sitting in Auto with neon lights,

All over the city, this one shines. Bright.

Its got a giant audio system. It be Pimping,

By the time I reach home, my ears are limping.

The driver’s supercool, his name is Jigness

He hangs his attitude around the meter,

And sticks it in your face!

He’s got pictures of Shahid Kapoor and Ajay Devgun,

This dude is so fly, he just fucked a NUN!

Driving around putting Scooty’s in their place, without fail,

There is a knight in this shining auto, Named Jigness Patel.





(written in the back-seat of an Auto with blue neon lights,Driven by Jigness Patel. Baroda 2010)

Two bears, a Frog and Able John

Two Bears, A frog and Able John,

Built a boat to sail upon.

They built the hull from bark and string,

Then found a lake to sail it in.

The lake met the river, the river met the sea,

The bears stole honey, the frog ate the bees,

Able john found fishes, they sailed along at ease.

Till that fateful moment, early at dawn,

The bears farted, in sync and long.

Able John fell, crushed the frog’s legs,

The friendship was fucked.

The journey was gone.

For the love of purple berries

wine glass not included

I spied a bowl full of phalse when I opened the heavy doors of the refrigerator, looking for a bottle of h20.

Enticed by the crunchy centers and the tangy soft exterior of those purple berries I reached out and grabbed a fistfull to saté my midnight p90x fueled hunger.

Alas, given my sleep riddled constitution and the lack of room for a fist, I knocked the bowl, full of the goodness of phalse, off its hallowed perch in the cold confines off the refrigerator and watched in silent horror as the little berries made a spectacle and spread themselves all over the kitchen and the hall floor.

I then did what any phalse lover, worth his salt, would do.

I said “fuck it, the maid will clean this up in the morning” and went off to sleep.

True story.

Vuvuzelas : Hutesium et Clamor

Vuvuzela, a highly effective english repellent

Hutesium et clamor : latin for a horn and shouting, known in common english as ” Hue and Cry” is an apt term for the current  outrage over the vuvuzelas which in my eyes is typical western behaviour towards native customs around the world. We have heard plenty of opinions on how vuvezelas, traditional metre long south african trumpets, cause deafness, or are generally ruining the beautiful game for the western audience. Everyone, from Scottish MPs to the BBC has voiced her or her opinion on the horns whose sound has been likened to the drone of bees or the crying of an elephant. As is expected of them, the english press has its panties in a particulerly tight bunch regarding the trumpets. The BBC says it has received 545 complaints (WOW, what a huge number) regarding the din on the telly. If I were in the BBC handling complaints I would do a quick send all telling these nincompoops to turn their volume down. The vuvuzela may be 130 db ( potentially, not always. This is another study on distortion of facts) but when you view it on your telly, its only as loud as your bloody settings. Toby Young, the writer of such books as ” How to Lose Friends & Alienate People” furthers his cause by writing this screed and I quote

“If this tournament is to be rescued, Fifa needs to ban the vuvuzela straight away. In a typically wet response, FIFA President Sepp Blatter has refused to entertain any such requests, saying “we should not try to europeanise an African World Cup”. So it’s racist to try and prevent a stadium sounding like a traffic jam is it? What balls, not least because the majority of people blowing the vuvuzelas in the stadiums are the visiting fans. Like Blatter, they think it’s the “African” thing to do.”

This is the equivalent of telling Indians to tone down the dhol during cricket matches coz the english team can’t hear their 3 supporters cheering for them. Thankfully the african response ( and the official FIFA line) has been a big “fuck you”. Some british doctors have gone on to suggest that the vuvuzelas expose their genial football fans who don’t posses any diseases, venereal or otherwise, to such life threatening conditions such as the cold and the flu. How, I don’t quite know but I can recommend that the english fans avoid large crowds to prevent such afflictions sell those tickers and stay home. It would be even better if they were to stop breathing at all, isnt that how you get this disease in the first place? They should also drink plenty of beer, a flu cant bother you when your kidneys and your liver are already dead, innit mate?

The most damning evidence against the vuvuzela come from Phonak, read on to know who they are, 

 “They can promote hearing loss. The obnoxious sound, commonly described to as a swarm of bees, permeating your TV viewing experience has been studied by health organizations including the global initiative Hear-the-World, created by Phonak, a hearing technology company. Hear-the World noted the vuvuzela “emits an ear-piercing noise of 127 decibels – louder than a lawnmower (90 decibels) and a chainsaw (100 decibels).” “Extended exposure at just 85 decibels puts us at a risk of permanent noise induced hearing loss. When subjected to 100 decibels or more, hearing damage can occur in just 15 minutes.” Hear the World conducted a study with the “most popular football fan instruments” worldwide and found the vuvuzela is the worst noise polluter but others are not far behind:

1st place: Vuvuzela 127 dB

2nd place: Air-horn 123.6 dB

3rd place: Samba drum 122.2 dB

4th place: Referee whistle 121.8 dB

5th place: 2 fans singing 121.6 dB

6th place: Gas horn 121.4 dB

7th place: Cowbell 114.9 dB

8th place: Wooden rattle 108.2 dB

9th place: Inflatable Fan-Sticks 99.1 dB”

Do you see the conflict of interest? Phonak makes hearing aids! That said, the list does throw up interesting points, the western air horn, referees whistle and 2 fans singing (curiously) are not very far behind. In the interest of english fans who wish to hear the “oohs and the aahs” ( that’s what they’ll hear anyway in english game, the team gives you no cause to celebrate) we should ban referees and fans who wish to sing as well. Fact is that the vuvuzelas and the consequent exposure to noise is no more than that which would ensue in a concert or at any local nightclub down in Broad street. I hate to use the word racial, but that is what it is western insensitivity and abhorrence of all things alien to their tiny closeted cultures. As for me, I quite like the sound of vuvuzelas. without them the matches would be silent boring affairs, the din is lively, though I will admit it is rather tuneless, it has energy which is contagious and makes dull games enjoyable as well. it certainly appears to my indian sentimentality or my Punjabi nature for loudness. To all haters of the vuvuzelas, go fly a kite.

On the other hand I do support a ban on vuvuzelas , just to rob the english of an obvious excuse when their team gets knocked out early, which they eventually will be.

 On an unrelated note, I do have bones to pick with that shakira song “waka waka” .last time i heard that phrase I was playing a certain game called pacman so it makes no sense to me. I am not a big fan of manufactured hype songs with supposed messages and they almost always get my goat. and yeah Shakira isn’t even african, so…nevermind.

 Here are some pieces on the vuvuzelas for your reading pleasure, one in favour and some against.

If you like, you can also blow your own vuvuzela here

 See you guys later, apologies for not posting anything in the recent past.

Shower Your Love

Shower your love on me
Don’t make it so hard to cry
Shower your love on me
You dont need a reason why

‘Cos I’m not even half the way there
But I’m just too stupid to care
So help me now
When i’ve fallen through

There are scenes in my open mind
Confusion and flashing lights
Shower your love on me
Cos nothing here feels right

Cos I’m not even half the way there
But I’m just too stupid to care
So help me now
When I’ve done all I can do

Shower Your love on me
I can’t wait, I’m losing faith
Like we might just explode
Comfort me with a melody
Show me that I’m gonna know the answer
Show me that I’m gonna know

Shower Your Love on me
Don’t make it so hard to cry
Shower your love on me
You don’t need a reason why
Don’t make it so hard to cry
Shower your love on me
Shower your love on me

Why this training sucks

Here I am, in a training session, fighting the urge to curl up and snore. I figured I should analyse the reasons why this training session sucks. Bear with me guys, here goes :
  1. The trainer looks like Paritosh Uttarwar : I kid you not. This guy totally looks like Paritosh, with a little less hair, a stupid moustache (we have seen those on Paritosh (Puppy-to his buddies))
  2. The trainer is an idiot : Not necessarily related to point 1, but he knows jack about the product he is training us on. Each question is met with a succinct “Yes” and the loud uncomfortable chirping of crickets.
  3. The audience is a bunch of bloody consultants: “You know the type, loud as a motorbike” Consultants are people who are assumed to know everything, this is a stereo type re-inforced at every client location we go to. Wide eyed client personnel look at us like the second coming of Jesus. Only we know, deep inside, that we are all a bunch of phonies. However that does not stop us from asking questions which make us look smart and make this poor Paritosh lookalike, look like a bigger fool.
  4. Irrelevant shit : Some of the stuff he says makes no sense, has no context and flies 35000 feet above our tiny heads. I think he is trying to be funny. Someone tell him it is not working. Poor Puppy
  5. Long pauses: Homer could write the Iliad and its sequel during one of the long pauses this guys uses during his sessions. He is clearly reading the wrong public speaking manuals.
  6. Retarded Questions : As I mentioned in point (3), the distribution of the audience is consultants =100%  Sane Individuals = 0%, now some of us consultants have this propensity to ask absolutely, most fucking retarded questions which utilize no sense in their formation and which leave the poor trainer wondering what the fuck hit him.
  7. Stress fracture of the brain : This freak of a trainer talks to his laptop, no kidding. Sample these dialogues “Come on” “Go back” “Lets do it again” “wait, wait, please” These are some of the lines he mouthed to his laptop in front of all of us. For real. This is probably the effect of watching too much porn on this laptop, he probably thinks the laptop is his girlfriend.

In other news, if you look at this guy with a blank, unmoving, unblinking, cold stare it scares him and probably creeps him out. I have been doing this for the last 1 hour, my eyes hurt and I have to work extra hard on suppressing my laughter but this guy is freaking scared that I am going to kill him. Or so I hope.

Jersey Shore – Meet the Patels

I am going to admit, with great shame, that I am addicted to the wonders of Jersey shore, the show about jersey Guidos and Guidettes ( Wiki it for me, will ya?) hanging out by the shady meat market beach resort, seaside heights.

If you have seen the show, read bloody on, and if have not. Slap yourself in the face and download it like right now. It’s the illest dope. Seriously!

I think it’s the Jersey Shore effect, while I am not rushing out to buy myself a tanning bed or get a blowout haircut ( an appointment with the stylist is due today, decision time) I figured we should make another season of Jersey shore and instead of Guidos we should get the other dominant Jersey community to represent jersey style- Presenting, the Gujjus!
Yeah, the mighty Gujjus!  Lets gather a bunch of strapping Gujrati babas and babys , let them loose on seaside with a bunch of camera’s trailing them and show the Guidos how its done!
Here’s how I imagine the shit is going to go down :
All contestants arrive one by one mostly from Jackson heights and Edison, introductions let us know how good kids they are, doing paye lagu and receiving the blessings of their very happy and clueless parents .
Looks like everyone has packed thepla but insist that their moms put it there, how could they eat the thepla? They own the McDonald’s by the corner! They Frikking love burgers!
There shall be no mixed sex sleeping arrangements, mum might be watching and if televised, this will totally ruin your chances in the arranged marriage market.
That uncle’s wife’s sister’s sons cousin brother went to the same school as your neighbours kids. That makes you family, apparently similar ties now bind the group together. Much love.
The guys spend most of the day discussing stocks and real estate prices, which will decide where the next motel or dollar store will be located. Three guys will decide that the t-shirt salesman job is shite and will open a competing store right next door. The girls will work all day and prepare a 17 course Gujarati meal.

om nom nom nom nom

Clubbing? Nah. Everyone gets ready for the Dandia! You got the fist pump? We got sticks bitches!
Before they go out and set fire to this city, they pray to the original Gujju guido. Ashmit Patel.

Proud Indian guido, Gujju to boot.

The single men go out stalking the white chicks, Eh Wassup ? ssssanti chhe……??  Sadly The boys only have each other for company in the night.

look at us, we be rockin baby! Bouncing!

Yes people, this show writes itself, no scripting no directions pure unadulterated drama. And guess what, we’ll throw in an odd Punjabi, Bihari or Mallu guy. Just to see them tear each other apart.
Please watch on in horror as I pat myself on the back. Whatey Idea sirji!

forged, steeled

The eternal nights of promise,
The sunlight shimmers of hope,
The moments spent day dreaming,
The expectations of a better tomorrow.
Dont forget to smile,
As you live through the beauty,
That surrounds you today,
The sharpest swords, the towers of steel
Were all forged through fire.
The eternal flame of desire.

This is not cricket

The ruckus around the non selection of Pakistani players for the IPL is quite astounding.

Articles have been written on the romanticism of cricket and its ability to create peace by obviously delusional writers who have clearly not seen a cricket match between India and Pakistan or even India and australia. In the latter case, off field acrimony has threatened to blow up into a diplomatic crisis and sharply punctuates the prevailing tension among the two countries on perceived racial issues.

It does not take a genius to recognise that the gentleman’s game has changed. In the 21st century it’s not about doffing your hat, gently applauding your own dismissal and then discussing straight drives over tea, it is on the contrary, war. Players are out to destroy each other at every given opportunity, teams play tooth and nail to win ,backed by rabid supporters on each side who would not have it any other way. To say in such a scenario that playing cricket will promote peace is at  best a ridiculous suggestion!

In light of the 26/11 attacks and the outrage that followed, it’s even more derisory to the psyche of the country to suggest that we should be playing a sport with the team of a country who has supported the murder of hundreds and thousands of indian citizens.  I am no xenophobe but I do believe in not engaging Pakistan in any way untill concrete action is seen.

Coming back to the issue of the jobless Pakistani merceneries cricket players. If clarity of thought prevails among the self-righteous jhola walas, they will find many reasons for the absence of Pakistani players, I have complied them in a short list for easy reference.

1. Recent performances : Have you seen them play in the recent test series against Australia? They were not even competitive would you want  expensive, out of form players in that franchise that you support?

2. Uncertain resource : The last two reasons boil down to one basic element, pure business sense. No franchise would like to spend crores on a player only to have his visa revoked in he case of further heightened tensions or any other extraneous reason.

3. Unpopular : And lastly, given the current environment, Pakistani players are definitely not in season with the Indian cricket watching public who fund the IPL with their ticket dollars. Consider this a democratic verdict, exercised by those whose cash makes this wheel go round. If no one wants to see the Pakistani players, why would a team owner waste money on them?

The response of the Pakistani cricket board  and the Pakistani media was certainly unexpected, I wish they had shown such outrage when the Sri Lankans were being attacked in their country or when terrorists trained by their state were butchering scores in the streets of Mumbai.

The only response that their outrage deserves is the finger.