Tag: Humour

How I Almost Saved the World – A Genie in the Land of the Free

Disclaimers : Only the genie in the story is based on a real person. Everything else is fictional. Also I don’t hate daily 8am work meetings.

Once upon a time, I wanted to change the world, like many others I knew. And we weren’t pretentious phonies with a holier than thou attitude. We were truly, incorrigibly holier than most of thou’s reading this.

As years passed by, it dawned on me that the path forward was to get rich and then comfortably change the world from my centrally air-conditioned condo in central Mumbai, while I was brought endless cups of chai at my change-the-world-from-home setup. After all, you only live once.

Then I moved to the US.
Because the only thing better than changing the world from your condo while losing to AQI is to change the world as an NRI with endless access to hot water while sharing patriotic reels as people on the other end of the world chant then why don’t you come back in my comments section.

But I’m not a phony like the rest of them, as Salinger would say. I kept the dream alive. I wrote My purpose is to change the world on my Statement of Purpose when applying to grad school and later transferred it to my LinkedIn profile where I describe myself in third person.

Then one day, a genie appeared before me. (Haters will say this is a weak literary device to accelerate the plot.) The genie was brown with an Indian accent, but I didn’t want to be rude so I didn’t ask where he was from. Though he couldn’t have been from Kerala since he didn’t assert unprovoked that Malayalam movies are the best. He hadn’t spoken about green cards within 60 seconds of his appearance so he clearly wasn’t Gujarati either. My legal team is asking me to stop.
“Hi there, we don’t have all day. I’m going to give you three options and I want you to pick one as your wish, you can’t change your mind later”.

Okay Paru, here’s your chance, whatever happens please think this through and do not pick Henry Cavill right away.

“Your options are : 1. Eradicate poverty 2. Earn $1bn for yourself 3. Eternal youth“

Slightly different than what I expected. While there was no Henry Cavill (we shall discuss that later), I still gushed at the prospects of fulfilling my purpose, and proving the world wrong on its favorite refrain that everybody is selfish.
“That’s a no-brainer,” I replied almost instantly. Almost instant since I almost considered eternal youth.
“Eternal youth could mean you can buy more time on dating apps to locate your soulmate, or even Henry Cavill you know?“
Genies that read minds are no fun.

Like I said I’m no phony, but if there’s one thing America has taught me, it’s to never assume – always ask (and always ask How are you doing before you ask whatever you really want to ask). I’m not entirely proud of what I asked.
“Can I eradicate poverty half-way and get $500 million?”
(Oh don’t judge me, when did you last get to meet a genie?)
“No.“
Let me try again.
“How about eradicate poverty by 99% and take out 8am scrums and AI art while you’re at it?”

Ok maybe I’m a little phony. But Salinger didn’t deal with this stuff when he was alive.
I finally picked option 1 which is the decent, civilized thing to do. Terms & Conditions attached meant I couldn’t share the news on any social media. Not that I would have even if the 210-page font size 8 document didn’t categorically forbid me.
The genie disappeared after I made my wish. I walked out of my apartment and nothing much had changed – of course, in this part of the world I had to turn on a news channel to find out.

‘Breaking News : Poverty eradicated – nations rejoice.‘ Haters will say that’s a sad, lazy recourse to not have to flesh out details, but that indeed was the headline that day. Stop expecting so much out of a story.

Three months later

The genie appeared before me again. “So as you know, poverty’s back in the world.”
“Yes I heard.” I wasn’t completely indulging this guy this time.
“#NotAllGenies. I’m giving you another chance to pick a wish, it’s the same 3 options as the last time.”
Okay. I can do this. “Can we edit it a little bit?”
“Are you trying to negotiate again?”
“Well, can you at least guarantee things won’t change back?”

Knowing I wouldn’t sleep well if I picked anything else, I chose the first option again. On the news this time they said “Thankyou to the Home of the Brave : Internal sources say that somebody in the West ordained this.“ They did not know the somebody is an H1B holder. But the 594-page document still didn’t allow me to share it anywhere, so I’ll just have to take this with me to my grave.

Two months later

Poverty was back. So was the genie.
Fool me once, shame on him. Fool me thrice, shame on the author of this weirdass plot. Guilt eluded me this time, I picked the second option and got filthy rich as they call it.
“I knew it’d get to you by the third time. You’re slightly more pious than the mean population, but not by much.“ So this was a test?
“Only slightly?” Not that it mattered anymore, not much mattered anymore, not even Salinger.
“Most pick the 1 billion after the first time but a good chunk have enough faith for a second try.”
“How many times would you have come back?” I didn’t want to know, but I had to ask.
“For as long as you picked the first one.” Jeez.
“And how many tries would it have taken?”
“We’ll find out when someone manages to get it through to the end.” The genie disappeared and I never saw him again. If it indeed had been a test it didn’t matter, if I indeed was a phony it didn’t matter – the money stayed. I’m working on furnishing that condo now.

Once in a while I come across someone who asks if the story is true and if it really was a genie who made me a billionaire. I correct them – it’s millionaire due to taxes. I later initiated a fundraiser dedicated to eradicating poverty so both the rich and poor (I maybe a phony but I don’t discriminate) can donate to the cause. Haters still call me selfish, I mean there’s no winning is there?

At least I now have a story of how I almost saved the world. That’s what I tell myself anyway.

The roads kept diverging in the wood, and at some point I decided to give. Maybe the last fork would have made all the difference, I guess we’ll never know.

Introducing BYOTP : Back-to-Office Town Hall

Single-ply, multi-ply – you decide. All that we ask is to show up in office Mon-Wed-Fri. A conversation with the CEO on the new Bring Your Own Toilet Paper policy.

Disclaimer : All incidents are made up, none of the featured characters are human etc. AKA I hope I don’t get fired.

In Conversation With the CEO

Welcome and thankyou for yet another year of great performance and stunning margins. First things first, in keeping with the times, my title will be modified from Chief Executive Good Boi to the more inclusive CEO.
I presume you’ve all read my Back to Office email, I appreciate you showing up here today, we sure are one goodlooking pawnch. (There goes my one and only dog-pun).

Now we have an exciting announcement in store based on feedback we received from you. Before that – Sam, could you run us through the top-voted response to our Back to Office story?

Sam : “Of course. With 578 upvotes, top comment by HoomanIsBae with an o-o reads- “Didn’t we exceed expectations working from home these two years? Not looking forward to returning to the single-ply office TP that tears off after 2 pulls. A puny feline couldn’t work with 2 sheets of that abomination -”

“Thankyou Sam, I thought you’d be giving us the TLDR. Anyway, to answer the question which appears to be of chief pertinence – I understand your sentiments about returning to office.

And we see you being independent, responsible adults here – walking on the grass like it’s nobody’s business, picking up after yourselves – we see all the good work. I ASSURE THAT WE SEE YOU. (It’s a security problem if we don’t and I’ll have I.T. fix the CCTV cams).
And we’d love for you to continue the Good Work! Which is why we have news for you!”

Necks craned, pupils dilated across the room in anticipation and hope as Mr. CEO continued.

“To address what was pointed out from YOUR end, we are initiating a BYOTP policy. Whether you’re furry, bald or thick-skinned, Bring Your Own Toilet Paper!
Single-ply, multi-ply – you decide (and you buy, obviously). All that we ask is to show up in office Mon-Wed-Fri.“

The clumsy, rhyming lines appeared on the large screen behind him. Audience exchanged quizzical looks while a few loyal tails wagged ferociously. Clearly he’d missed the point HoomanIsBae and 578 others tried to make, or did he not and was this the best he could do? Corporates are a mystery to me.

“Second row, raising your paw – You have a question for Mr. CEO?”

“So you’re rewarding us by removing Toilet Paper from washrooms?”

“No, we’re rewarding you by letting you bring your own.”

“Erm sure, how about Bring Your Own Bidet (BYOB)? The Afghan Hounds and Asian Shepherds feel 73% more at-home with it. We just ran an audience poll in the last 20 seconds.”

Okay this was tricky and as they say, any stat ending in a 3 must be true.

“I hear you… Let’s start with BYOTP and we’ll get to BYOB eventually. One step at a time, together.”

Awoo’s rose to the ceiling. An Indian Pomeranian wiped their happy tears, nodding, “What a leader.”

“Let’s hear another one, Sam. I know we definitely saw some folks excited about the Return to Office.”

Sam : “Here we go again. StopAskingMeToFetch69 with 6-9 in numeric says – SO GLAD to be back in office, I missed the Chipotle. But now there’s less steak in my burrito cos of long lines at the counter!”

“I’d like to commend StopAskingMeToFetch69 on diversifying to human styles, but my limbs are tied on Chipotle. It is what it is.”

Scattered boos permeated the conference room. “Well now you sound just like John, nobody likes John,” a wizened Husky from the front row flailed and dropped her arms.

John?

“The HR, he no longer sends us bowl treats and our bonus this year was meat flavored gummy bears. We love those but it doesn’t begin to cover inflation.”

Jeez, his own bonus wasn’t gummy bears and even that didn’t cover inflation. Mr. CEO glanced at the floor briefly.

“I see we’re at time so I’ll ignore that completely unless you want a generic managerial response from me. We’ll take one last question.”

Husky wasn’t done, “Can we atleast have a Bring Your Human to Work day? I worry for my human when I’m at work.”

“No, and that’ll be all.” Mr. CEO stepped to the edge of the podium. “To close, we know you had fun at home these 2 long years. Now we let you have fun twice a week. Isn’t that fun?!”

As the crowd walked out, the Pomeranian wiped their eyes still wet from animated glee.

“You know, I might just bring my bidet to work anyway. He told us to have fun at work, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, I’m not leaving my showerhead at home either. Hopefully his cameras don’t work.” LadyBird winked at Jessy, the IT admin.

Every Person On Instagram

Inspired by folks I’ve seen on Instagram, this article isn’t intended to offend but if you think it’s you I’m talking about, it probably is. The list is by definition incomplete so please don’t be offended if you were skipped (or were you?).

  1. The News Feeder/Faye D’Souza Lite
    At one point when the world was falling apart, they shared worldly updates with diligence. They have continued to stay in character and can’t seem to find a good time to stop.
  2. The Feelings Surrogate
    This is the person that exhausts you with the endless issues they pick up on keyboards. Global warming, education, animal rights, human rights – you carefully skip their updates on a bad day. But you’re glad they exist, for they feel the hard feelings while you sleep peacefully in the knowledge that somebody cares. Roles might switch, or be transferred.
  3. The Liberal
    Their favorite quip is Everyone has a right to live the way they want. No, not like that. Having metamorphosed into worse than the conservatives they abhorred, others quake at their judgmental gaze. We asked if they had a response, Let me check Twitter to know how I feel about that was all we got.
  4. The Fun Content Dude who lives with a Fun Content Family
    They allegedly work hard, they also play hard and it’s for the world to watch on Reels. Of course we don’t believe them for a minute, but life’s hard and I just downed a whole carton of no-pulp orange juice to numb myself after a Wednesday, so trust me to string along as your body descends into a pool on camera with gay abandon.
  5. The Hack
    That content creator whose career and followers’ welfare depend on the favorable angle their camera is fixated at.
  6. The Warrior
    A purist commenting This isn’t pure Kathak under a video of Alia Bhatt promoting Ghar More Pardesiya.
  7. The Defender
    The one replying If you want to watch pure Kathak you need to go elsewhere, triggering a heated debate on Instagram rights and justice.
  8. The Canadian Sun
    They put an end to the thread with Let’s appreciate her for learning the dance in 3 days, it maybe a sh*t show but the show did go on.
  9. Boomers
    Their minds will be blown away as they discover Reels feature in 3..2..1
  10. The Offended Woke
    They are the reason why Comedy Central didn’t air The Office’s diversity episode and whom Pick your battles goddammit was originally directed at. They’re currently on a mission to guilt-trip me on behalf of non-English speaking horses who apparently cannot get humour.
    NOT TODAY, Satan.
  11. The Cat/Food/Photography/Workout/Lurker person
    Honorary mention.
  12. The Conflicted Artist
    They were traditionalists on social media until recently, when they relented to deluging content.
    Sometimes, they add #poetsofinstagram to their poem while shrugging at life-choices that led them there. Sometimes, they unweave what could’ve been a satirical drama into a lazy list. And they definitely cringe every time they share an Insta story announcing their own post.
  13. The OG – You Gotta Do What You Gotta Do Squad
    Toughened by time and lessons learnt on the “gram”, these professionals are the antitheses to the Conflicted and serious about giving their audience what they want. The kitchen sinks in their background have just enough dirty dishes to make them appear human, if there’s any more it will include a small write-up on being human. Of course it’s no easy feat to keep at anything twice a week, and we love them for being reliable.
    In short, their unprecedented success is why I have annoying folks on my feed performing Bollywood trends under #foodporn, in hopes of going viral.
  14. The Humble Brag
    They share erudite arguments that lack any context and jokes that need a preface, leaving us hanging and feeling a little dumb. You always vow never to return to their smartest person in the room updates. But like they say, genius needs an audience, and we all need a genius.
  15. The Good Samaritan
    You – when you sit and click through 79-odd canyon stories posted by a lovable friend who doesn’t yet know they’re boring because they have equally sweet friends that won’t skip nor tell.
  16. Instagram
    A monster that’ll make you accidently hit like on your ex’s ex’s picture but somehow your crush who sits through every one of your stories won’t. This is obviously a personal grievance, I’m sure you can think of your own reasons why Insta is the real monster (apart from Reels).

Where numbers come from

So one day last year, three of us were discussing about the rise of BJP in India. The conversation mainly revolved around their proliferation despite outright communal agendas and intolerance.

P1 : But I mean, who votes for these bigots? I don’t expect a remotely sensible person would vote them to power.

Me : I can only speak for myself. Now I may bark liberalism in the workplace and about freedom of expression etc among my social circles, yet when I enter the polling booth – sorry but the Hindu in me is aroused and I vote for thaamara (lotus). Not sorry. (*wink* intended)

P2 (pleasantly surprised) : YEA I KNOW RIGHT! SAME HERE! Same happens with me! Wonder why that is…

P1 & Me :

ആാാ!

How I Made It To the IAS

Disclaimer : This is a grossly misleading account of how I, a non-existent guy, made it to a non-existent service. Kindly do not take it to heart or mind or soul. More importantly, do not hunt me down.

This article is a standalone piece on my path to IAS aka Indian Acronyms Service, a new pseudo- All India Service created and tailored to suit the needs of the present government. If you came here looking for the Indian Administrative Service as I’m sure most of you did, I have to tell you this here is THE NEW bomb right now.

Did you really think the catchy acronymic names of government schemes with no-nonsense fullforms grew on trees (GoT)? It is a result of our Pact (Persistent And unprecedented Creative Talent) and Stuff (Sunny Times Under Football & Fun) and Shit (Shit Has no Ixpansion Though), and not putting together random words as many think it to be.

So here goes.

Getting into IAS is a 3 step process, a lot like the all India services, but not really.

STAGE 1 : The Preliminary Test

Although the competition isn’t as high as for the Civil Service test, I’m sure once this article is out, the number of job applicants will increase by tenfold if not more. The syllabus is pretty much the same which is everything under the sun. This is to ensure that even if somebody (more often than not) mistakes us to be an officer from the Administrative Service, which we usually tend to not rectify, we should be a convincing one at the least.

The exam itself is 50% LUCK, 50% Hardwork and 50% Qualifying Math which I’m naturally good at. I’d say another 25% part is played by political correctness.

For eg: What is SCAM?

(a) Save Country from Amit shah and Modi
(b) SP, Congress, Akhilesh and Mayawati
(c) Both (a) & (b)
(d) I support Jayalalithaa

Like I mentioned, this is not really an all India service to be apolitical.

I owe a lot of my success to Luck (Look Up online in Case of Konanders). For those that don’t know, it’s an app allowed in the exam hall, accessible only to those who voted Yes when MyGov asked “Do you support demonetisation?”

STAGE 2 : The Mains exam (written)

Pro-tip: Squeeze in at least one acronym in every sentence possible, the more it annoys the reader the better. Flaunt your creativity, even if you have none.

This is where they test your skills in balanced articulation, neutered criticism, etc (Exemplary Tailwagging to Central policies). Diplomacy here is key (Kickass Excellence in Your test). Okay I’ll stop that shit.

STAGE 3 : The Personal Interview

This has to be the toughest stage, what with the mental pressure et al (Every Two minutes At the Loo). Present in my interview board was who I will call MPD or Mere Pyare Deshvasiyon (not in the least cos naming him might get me in trouble)’s hologram.

I fainted out of sheer awe at the mere sight of it him.

“Would you like some nariyal juice?” a behind-the-scenes guy ran to me and asked.

“You mean nariyal PAANI, yes please,” I croaked. I knew the panel was impressed. Your degree of political correctness has to be breath-taking, even when your own breath has taken off.

“So tell us, since you fainted et al, why do you admire MPD?”

“Because he is a man with a big heart, sir.”

“Oh you have seen his MRI Scans?”

“Well what do you think the 56 inch chest houses then? Aloo gobi? It’s his BIG heart. I’m sorry to say (SOS), but you sound anti-national (ANAL).” The rest of the panel turned to him, fuming. I thought my job was done.

“Here’s my Adhar, and here’s my screensaver” – it was a cow Gomaatha, “I have a Jio Sim and I only use PayTM.” “Tch tch, sorry we misunderstood”.

“Well. Back to you. What do you think of India’s demographic dividend and our rising population?”

“Sir, when the Army officers and BSF jawans are working day and night at Siachen so that the country sleeps peacefully at night, I do believe people should just sleep peacefully at night, instead of contributing their share to the population. It is the least we could do”.

“Actually…,” the HR member cut in.

SHIT, I knew there had been a technical glitch. Wasn’t India’s population actually stabilizing? I’d fallen into their pit.

“… you do know that babies can be made during the daytime (DAD)?” Well thank god.

“Sir, perhaps if we could make a policy to empower moral policing groups in the context of PvtDA, as it already is legalized in case of PDA, that’s when India would really shine, and that is how India will become digital.”

I knew I was almost there. The cherry on top coming up.

“Or we could play the National Anthem in loudspeakers in every locality every few hours, that’ll terrify them out of their wits, and beds.”

At this, the 56-inch torso’ed hologram got up on his legs, and said, “YOU. YOU will join my Kitchen Cabinet on Monday.”

“But sir, I don’t have a degree in Political Science, I can hardly cook.”

“I’m sure we can do something about that,” said the HR guy. He was already on the phone  – “Yes it’s me again, we’ll need another couple of certificates.”

Like I said, the interview is a little unconventional, but if you get through, you’re a quasi-public servant/IAS officer. You also get a Jio subscription for lifetime complementary.

I soon got married to a rich businessman’s daughter on account of my job title *wink*. She almost kicked me out when she found  what the ‘A’ stood for. Her mother was about to hurl at me my beloved miniature figurine of UN-adjudged ‘The Most Charming PM in The World’ (kuch bhi) when I remembered and yelled, “The car! I still get the car! With the red beacon!”

“OH! Well why didn’t you say so in the first place, son? Come on in,” my mother-in-law beckoned.

Indian parents.

 

PS : This was written after I learnt what PRASAD stands for. I mean seriously.

Shopping with Shoplifters

Self-explanatory featured images/titles ruin blogs.

I was at EasyDay today – the store I visit only when I cannot find stuff on BigBasket/ZopNow/at the corner shop that sells Parachute Oil and JimJam cream biscuits, because the queue at their counter kills the last bit of shopping glee. I am not a shopaholic – every time I come across something, I tend to check my bag’s compartment into which I’ve shoved all my notes and coins, my Maestro & metro cards, my Apollo Pharmacy card and Pious Achan’s visiting card, subtracting and summing prices in my tiny brain that slowly shuts down as it plays toils with numbers.

I sift through every shelf, spending a significant amount of time on the Bathing Bars rack to read and compare the prices, making economic decisions and reveling in the grownup-ness of it. I’ve been doing this since I was in Class 12 and I’m not yet sure if there’s anything grownupy about it or maybe I just like reading labels.

Especially creative one-liners like ‘Enjoy the biscuity flavor of this biscuit.’

I whiff at every offer, every Save Rs.5/Buy 1 Get 1 Free, before picking my Laundry Freshener and Shower Gel and Toothpaste and Real/Tropicana and Sugar, because you can’t compromise on other stuff in the grocery list.

So I was near the toothbrush rack when I noticed that a couple next to me had been fiddling with some thing for sometime, considerable whisper exchanges and giggles included. I glanced to see it was condoms. Perhaps they were uncomfortable in a stranger’s presence, who was most certainly only concerned about the 14 rupees she’d be saving by picking a Colgate toothbrush instead of Sensodyne and not with the flavor of the condom they were choosing, but how’d they know that?

Being the considerate co-shopper, I slowly shifted to the Shampoo and Conditioners rack and spent quality time with the tubes and bottles (I’m a very engrossed kinda person, don’t ask me to do things for fun or to wait until a condom-picking couple leaves, I’ll end up doing it seriously), making my way through NEW YEAR BONANZA OFFERS.

Which is when the girl shuffled, and into her jeans’ tight front pocket (the struggle is real) she squeezed what looked like tiny condom sachets and brisked out of the shop, the guy following closely after.

After mindboggling questions of Why would anybody steal condoms which come at like Rs.5 (I’m told, of course), and the more surprising realization of OH YOU CAN ACTUALLY STEAL STUFF HERE, I went back to my modest economics.

Guilty of not reporting the crime I’d witnessed.

Or maybe it was foreplay. I’ll never know.

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