Monday, April 30, 2007

Another Client Call

Mr So and So looks at my cleavage for the hundredth time. By now I am not even offended. The funniest part is I am not even showing any cleavage. As I go on and on about exciting communication strategies which are in reality gimmicks for Mr So and So’s company to cough up some money which in turn would go to the kitty of my Big Big bosses who would in turn drive bigger cars and go on a Swiss holiday every summer.

Remembering that my deadlines are near, I turn into a pest putting my patronizing whiny voice. Mr Cleavage Starer wakes up, actually listens to me for a second and realizes that my face was not so bad after all. Now I have a lech staring at me. I wet my lips in discomfort. He follows suit. Then for some really weird reason I picture some hot air coming from the fat ugly parched lips. Controlling the urge to laugh uncontrollably I cough. Mr CS gets up to get me a glass of water. A really fat white buffalo trying to be agile but somehow failing. I look at his fat arms, dimpled and somehow cute.

A moment of enlightenment blinds me. He is 42 years old weighs 100kg +, Most likely on the net as Hot Male 30. If you don’t count virtual sex, has not had real sex for years.
Loves to stare at cleavages (which of course is obvious). Loves his mother, hates the father. He gets treated by his boss like a big piece of shit and cannot take any decision officially even if it involves the colour of the toilet paper. He is harmless, has a million rakhi sisters who don’t bother to keep in touch. I like him once I know him.

So I ask for a coffee, brewing in mind my creative communication solutions for a real decision maker. He asks me something but I have already put him on an ignore mode. He says something like “May be we could work something out”. I smile like Julia Roberts without showing any teeth and I am thinking May be you should work out fatso ( not that I am thin but you know) Do you have a B-O-S-S dude? I smile again in thin air. My wandering eyes spy a pic on one of the shelves. Mr CS with a blonde woman? Mr CS with a blonde extremely good looking woman? And that too in a bridal attire?.....which makes them husband and wife? Shit.

Mr CS looks at me stonily, says he is busy and walks out . I follow him out confused and chastened. I see him get into long black merc with a fancy number plate . I stop an auto and start to bargain the rate. Beep! The week old blackberry startles me. A scrap for me in orkut.

HOT MALE 30: lol

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Dedicated to a "Virgin"

Behind tinted glass
Her lips are smudged
Arms n legs entangled
Cheeks in heat rouged
Cry without class
Pious in nature
O God, O God, O God

Knock Knock Knock
"Open the door",
screams the cop.
"Who are you ?"
He asks , in disgust.
"Just a virgin", she says.
Swati(Rishi) called me as I finished writing this. And this is what transpired.

Me: So what do you think?
Swati: You have lost your touch. This is not even bitchy. And why are you writing like that author who put her head in the oven. What's her name?
Me: Sylvia Plath?
Swati: Yeaaaaaaaa…"Rouged"? (in disgust)
Me: Let's rework
Swathi: The first para has to go.


Dedicated to a "Virgin" ( The title stays)

In the back seat of the car
Her lips are swollen
And legs spread wide open
Flushed with horniness
She cries out
Harder, Faster, Harder….

Knock Knock Knock (2nd para stays)
"Open the door",
screams the cop.
"Who are you ?"
He asks , in disgust.
"Just a virgin", she says
Which one do you dig?

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Act 1
The bunch of vultures hovered around waiting for me to die. I am for sure , looking tired and they were hoping that I would be the meal that day.

Vulture no 1: She is nice but don’t you think that she is wearing tight clothes?Yesterday she was looking darker. Wearing foundation do you think? She is dumb or at least pretends to be.But she is nice.

Vulture no 2: What the hell is that hubby doing letting her wear such tight clothes and that too she has a big butt. She is not wearing foundation, just become fair da. You will also if you sit and park your butt in the office .yea, She is nice only.

Vulture no 3 : ( who has managed to shit on my seat and tear it to shreds) : Aiyoo, stop the bitchin.(smirk)

Vulture 1&2 : O black eyed dudette
Die, Die, Die
Give us a morsel
Of gossip n scandal
to make us well
Or else we’ll kill

(In a frenzy ) : Die, Die , Die

Then, out of the blue, my laughter echoed the room. Someone had told me a joke. My tired eyes transformed to bright lights making me look really happy. And sadly for the vultures, happy people don’t just die. So they decided to become doves. I threw a morsel of pity, some morsels of attitude and they ate out of my hand waiting to become vultures on my bad hair day.

Friday, April 13, 2007


On the outside we are the perfect office family. If it's Diwali, we distribute sweets. On Valentine's day the office looks like a spring in bloom, with flowers and red hearts decorated all over the place. If it's Holi, we are squealing and giggling and throwing colours in the office…right in the middle of computers and polished brown desks. If it's the office party we give the best, booze, dance, DJ, celebrities. So that makes us the perfect office family? Right? It's a yes, if you believe married couples never fight. That money does not matter in life. That Britny Spears is a virgin.

There is this Man who heads all these people. He is well liked and considered perfect and the best in his line of work. His birthday is round the corner. He is throwing a party. And we are giving him a gift, all of us from the great office family. So the White paper goes around, with our names typed neatly. Make your contribution, sign and pass it around. The minimum contribution was Rs 200. Some gave it readily but others started cribbing. They cribbed and cribbed till someone said" Okay guys, give what you want". So what if we can't spare 200 bucks for the boss's birthday. We would surely make his birthday a grand success by eating and drinking and dancing through the night after all we are one big perfect office family.

Thursday, April 12, 2007


How does one feel after losing a big might have been deal.? Like how I am feeling right now. Till yesterday it was all set,, waiting to happen to give me some minutes of adulterated happiness and today it's gone.

Good Morning Mr ---------------
Some Pleasantries later
So what size are you going for?
Actually , we have decided against it.
Okaaae ( like speaking to an obstinate child) But I felt that it was a perfect fit. Apart from being a great branding exercise, it ensures….blah blah blah
I am sure you feel that way but I'll let it pass this time.

And I am too tired to beg. To lie, to flatter , to flirt ,to beg again.
I am the HDFC call centre executive begging to get somebody take a lifetime free credit card.
I am the salesgirl who walks from house to house selling detergents.
I am persistent walking encyclopedia who rings the bell when everyone's taking an afternoon nap.
I am the beggar woman in the traffic signal.
Well …Almost.

My feelings conflict alternating from irritation to lethargy. The latter getting the better of me with searning heat conspiring to put me to sleep on my messy desk. Tomorrow is the day to close big deals .