Yeah well....

Girl : blah blah blah.....

Mr. X : Ha ha fuck you 

Girl  (serious face) : By the way Indian girls take a serious offence to guys using that phrase in front of them.

Mr. X : Well, its just like you smoking in front of a non smoker like me

Girl : Fuck you!!

NO!!

Me to a female qualitative co-ordinator in my office - "When the consumers arrive for their indepth interviews, please inform Mr Ahmed" (my colleague who is supposed to conduct these interviews)

Qual Co-ordinator : "Mr Ahmed? No!"

Me : "Errrr.... ok..."

(Awkward silence)

Me : "Ahhhh u r kidding... ok ok"

(Qual co-ordinates straight face, no smiles. Me thinking - Good sense of humour, but a smile from her side wouldn't have hurt)

(Me back to my seat)

(Desk phone ringing)

Qual co-ordinator on the other line : "Gina, Mr. Ahmed - NO!"

Me : "Whats, whats wrong?...."

Qual Co-coridnator : "Gina I am telling Mr. Ahmed - NO!"

Me : "Ok just inform me and i shall inform him"

Qual co-ordinator : "we will send a mail to him"

Me : (thinking what the hell did Mr Ahmed do to this woman that she doesn't want to speak to him at all, and is expressing the same so vehemently in such an outright manner) "Dear, what seems to be the problem.I understand that you dont want to speak to him , so i am suggesting that you just tell me and i shall tell him. He might not be at his desk so he might not see the mail for some time"

Qual Co-ordinator - "Gina Mr. Ahmed NO... "K N O W"....."

.... yeah English is a tricky language!!

I "Taboo" that!!

For the uninitiated, Taboo is just like Dumb Charades, the only difference being that unlike dumb charades here you can actually speak to describe the word that your team has to guess, but cant use specific obvious taboo words related to that word. For e.g. if the word is fish, while describing the word you can say anything that you want except for the words from this taboo list - water, animal, eat, sushi, seafood. I am sure you get the drift. Also, it works in one minute time slot for each turn. 

You get 1 point for each word that you get right during that one minute and minus 2 points if you don’t get the word, or you use any of the taboo words. So you see, speed is important…and so is caution of not using the taboo words. And sometimes in the quest to perfect these two (speed & caution), we get to see situations like the one mentioned below.

During one of my team turns, this one guy was trying to describe one word.

Him -  “What I like”.

Me  - “Pizza?”

He shook his head and said - "No"

Me – “Alcohol? Partying?”

Shook his head again

Me – “Women?”

Some more head shaking followed….

… and we couldn’t think of anything more to fit in that description. We gave up and got a minus two on that one.

After the turn finished , when he came and sat next to me I asked him –“Dude, what was the damn word?”

He responded, with a long face – “Potato”

And the following words came out of my mouth as if they were meant to be the most natural response –“Really? Potato?? Duhh… you should have said What you look like rather than what you like” (If you havent guessed it already... the guy is big. Tall and bulky) He gave me a nasty look and then, the sweet pal that he is, he gave me company along with others in laughing it out.

After a few rounds, another one of my team members went up to take on the turn. By this time the other team was winning by a wide margin (Really, it wasn’t very unexpected  given our team had people with the aforementioned articulation skills!! Sigh…Even the great guessing powers of other team members like myself couldn’t save us!). 
Anyway this time we got as much as 4 words right and were on the 5^th one (You see, usually in one minute time on an average, you can get 3-4 words right, 6-7 if you are good and about 9-10 if you & your team are incredibly great at it!) So crossing the average by getting onto the 5th one obviously translated into the excitement running high in the team. All of us had by now left our respective seats and in an attempt to stand close to the guy performing on the center stage, ended up standing very close to each other as well.

So the performer picked up this 5^th card, his eyes lit up and we reckoned it was going to be an easy one. He said, pointing in my direction – “What she looks like”…and I tried to decide (silently of course, in my head!) between konkana sen, madhu (yeah that forgotten actress), a school teacher (people label me that sometimes…though more for my rare but tough reprimanding acts than my looks)…and some more unmentionable resemblances that i am charged guilty of, by various people....

....yeah so while i was busy deciding which ones of these would embarrass me the least, all my team shouted in unison …. (take a guess….) – “POTATO!”

WTF!!!

At this point I would like to mention that all this(my mental calculations & my teams luck with deciphering the correct word) happened in less than a second! I am not exaggerating, I promise!!

Ha! So much for not being embarrased.... (in retrospect..only if i had said out loud any of the things that came to my mind, who knows i might have been able to steer the team away from thinking of a potato!)

At first, I thought the performer had pointed wrongly at me while he was just trying to point at that other guy standing right behind me and very close (who I spoke those words to, in the first place!) ... and just when i was about to give this whole thing, the benefit of doubt (we were standing close, rem?) ...it just hit me - he said “she” and not “he”. 

WTF, really!!

Ok ok, I know I planted the idea of building an instantaneous association between “looks like” and “potato”…but the context was that guy NOT me, for crying out loud. Maybe all my team members have the selective hearing syndrome. But really, all of them yelling? In UNISON? As if it was the most obvious answer? No, scratch that. As if it was the ONLY answer??

DAMN!!!!

Moral of the story – Being a hostess of a fun night which includes alcohol, barbecue, a fantastic view from the balcony and a lot of games like Uno, Taboo, Playing cards and so on.. might add to a great fun quotient ….But in the end, doesn’t guarantee that the next time anyone says potato, you are NOT the first visual that appears in all those peoples head!!

Yeah, the world is a funny place …apparently so is my body shape. :P

Maybe next time when i am explaining the rules for playing taboo to all those present/particpating in the game, i should include "not pointing towards me when the word is potato" as the first rule!

Fucking Awesome!

So this other day i was talking to one of my friends online

Me : Howdy?

Friend : Not bad

Me : Now thats not very enthusiastic!

Friend : Well...I could have said "I am fucking awesome"...but then i dont know any girl named "awesome", you see.

Playing Dumb... (Charades)

So this last friday was a dumb charades night at my house … needless to say we enjoyed indian food, some ingenious mime for not only the difficult but also the simple movie titles….and  many expected and unexpected laughs!!

The star among all those hilarious moments was when one of the guys got a 2 word movie name to enact.…. and to signify that hes enacting the 2^nd word first he decided to not to show two fingers but only the middle finger with the palm facing his face.After a split second of awkward silence at this action of his, all of us burst in uncontrollable laughter... and the laughter continued some more for he remained clueless till the end of it all :P

Kick Ass!!

So someone told the guys in the office here that being kickass is the way to be these days... "Tabaan* (English translation - "Of course") it is!!" they said and...

This happened!!

Donkeys ordered to wear diapers in Egypt

Egypt News. Net : Tuesday 30th Dec, 2008(IANS) 

Donkeys have been banned from walking around in the streets of Egypt's southwestern al-  Wadi al-Gadeed governorates without wearing diapers, an official said.

Mohammed Haround said the measure was to 'preserve the aesthetic and cultural scene of the governorate which currently witnesses an unprecedented boom in tourism'.

'Diapers are available in the markets at low prices,' Haroun was quoted by the official MENA news agency as saying Tuesday. He added that owners of the donkeys who violate this decision will be fined.

Donkeys are vital for many Egyptians since they can easily carry 20-30 percent of their body weight and are helpful in farming. Donkeys and donkey-drawn carts are a common sight in Egypt's cities and countryside.

 

Source : egypt news 

 

And this.... 

 

Donkey Sent To Jail In Egypt

 

A donkey has been sent to jail in the Nile Delta in Egypt for stealing corn!

The donkey and its owner were both arrested by police after the donkey was found in possession of corn on the cob stolen from a field belonging to the local Agricultural Research Institute.

A special checkpoint had been set up to trap the perpetrators after the Institute’s director complained that someone was stealing his crops.

Later, a local judge sentenced the donkey to 24 hours in prison, whilst the owner escaped a custodial sentence and received only a fine of $9.

Source : This 

Should i go and tell them whoever told them this, didnt mean it literally?

And peace prevails.....

Disclaimer - This is just in good humour NOTHING else ....so please read it in the same light 

A recent mail forward (I am not too big on the whole fwd thing..yeah but then who really is? Anyway given the humour quotient of this one, i thought it deserved to be shared with all of you who havent had the chance of reading it yet :P )

********************************************************************************************************************

Recent studies commissioned by US department of Defense included one on nuclear war between India and Pakistan : This was the scenario.... ......... ...

The Pakistan army decides to launch a nuke-missile towards India. They don't need any permission from their government, and promptly order the countdowns.

Indian technology being so advanced, detects the Pak countdown in less than 8 seconds. Indian army decides to launch a missile in retribution. But they need permission from the Government of India. They submit their request to the Indian President. The President forwards it to the Cabinet. The Prime Minister calls an emergency Lok Sabha session. The LS meets, but due to several walkouts and severe protests by the opposition, it gets adjourned indefinitely.The President asks for a quick decision.

In the mean time, the Pak missile fails to take off due to technical failure. Their attempts for a re-launch are still on.

Just then the Indian ruling party is reduced to a minority because a party that was giving outside support withdraws it. The President asks the PM to prove his majority within a week. As the ruling party fails to win the confidence vote, a caretaker government is installed. 

The caretaker PM decides to permit the armed forces to launch a nuclear missile. But the Election Commission says that a caretaker government cannot take such a decision because elections are at hand. The Election Commission files Public Interest Litigation in the Supreme Court alleging misuse of power.

The Supreme Court comes to the rescue of the PM, and says the acting PM is authorized to take this decision in view of the emergency facing the nation.

Just then one of the Pak missiles successfully takes off, but it falls 367 miles away from the target, on its own government building in Islamabad at 11.00AM. Fortunately there are no casualties as no employee reaches the office that early. In any case, the nuclear core of the missile had detached somewhere in flight.

The Pakistan army is now trying to get better technologies from China and USA. 

The Indian Government, taking no chances, decides to launch a nuclear missile of its own, after convening an all-party meeting. This time all the parties agree. Its three months since the army had sought permission. But as preparations begin, "pro-humanity" , "anti-nuclear" activists come out against the Government's decision. Human chains are formed and Rasta rokos organized.

In California and Washington endless e-mails are sent to Indians condemning the government and mentioning "Please forward it to as many Indians as possible".

On the Pakistan side, the missiles kept malfunctioning. Some missiles deviate from target due to technical failures or high-speed wind blowing over Rajasthan.Many of them land in the Indian Ocean killing some fishes.

A missile (smuggled from USA) is pressed into service. Since the Pakistan army is unable to understand its software, it hits it original destination: Russia.

Russians successfully intercepts the missile and in retaliation launch a nuclear missile towards Islamabad. The missile hits the target and creates havoc.

Pakistan cries for help. India expresses deep regrets for what has happened and sends in a million dollars worth of Parle-G biscuits.

Thus India never gets to launch the Missile....

Laughter : The best medicine

After fighting this rare insomnia for a while but all in vain, i gave up and started reading random blogs... 

Clicked on the sidebar link "problems in lauve?" cos it sounded phunny on a fellow bloggers blog (What drives you?)....It took me to rediff love guru chat sessions...  couldnt resist sharing one gem that i found there in the comments section. It gets me rolling with laughter ...everytime! (esp the reply to this deadly predicament!)

Please help me... by Mat on Nov 07, 2008 07:46 PM  Permalink  | Hide replies Dear Luv guru... I like one girl... But she likes a man 30 years elder to her. That man but loves his neighbour. That neighbour is married. That neighbour's sister-in-law crosses our house everyday. Now that sister-in-law's daughter in her first marriage is studying with me. Now I feel I am attracted to her also... What should I do?     Forward  |  Report abuse Re: Please help me... by jat kr on Nov 07, 2008 07:58 PM  Permalink suicide !!!!

New Years Eve

First things first - A very happy new year to all of you!

New year's eve for me was good...actually more than I could ask for.

Some random observations from the eve

1. I actually relished (and waited for the second serving!) the joke which they call samosas here (I mean really, their size could make a ram-laddoo feel proud for being so gigantic!) & spring roll look-alikes which seemed to have reluctantly left their dancing fields viz. the oil pan, still holding on to excessive oil.

2. I didnt mind the fact that even after charging us quite a decent amount of money, the organisers provided only the mixers for our tonics. Yes we had to bring our own alcohol.

3. I didnt lose my temper on the DJ who was so hyped to be an indian DJ (hence my expectations of all bollyqwood masala tracks!) insisted on playing english tracks more than the hindi ones. And he didnt even have any number that i requested. Ok, to be fair to him, i requested only one particular number Namak Ishq ka from Omkara ...and then i gave up hope (now if he didnt have that...THAT track... then could i really expect anything else?) Ok, to be honest...i went up to him more than once to strangle him and take charge but everytime my colleagues somehow managed to pull me back. And given his size i could have easily achieved that feat. Damn!~

4. I was somewhat surpised by the fact that i can still be on the dance floor for 5 hours straight!! yeay!! (and inspite of the above mentioned!) .....who knows, it could have been more, had they not politely hinted towards closing.. by serving food! (Really, who cares for food when you get to drink and dance??)

5. I realised that my dormant wish to learn salsa suddenly found wings on that dance floor.... (its still not fallen weak though its been more than 72 hrs since that dance floor... so i am hoping i will do something about it this time!)

6. I still dont take initiative in terms of social networking. No i am not anti social... i just dont have the drive to initiate it...thats all! So while i sat there enjoying my drink (for the first half an hour i.e. before the dance floor opened) some people came to my table, chatted ...and i reciprocated. While my newly married friend from office surfed through the entire gathering chatting up all of them one by one (i really think he covered everyone!) leaving his wife in my safe company. So I had to finally sit him down and wave this eye opener in front him. What, you ask? Well..think about it, he gets both the luxury of not sitting glued to the chair next to his wife and HAVE a wife...and i dont get either?? Now that cant be fair by any standard, right? I mean I didnt mind sitting next to her, shes a lovely person .... but the point is I dont get to take a wife home at the end of the party (Ok i am straight... but to be honest, sometimes i think i want a wife more than a husband! And i am sure it isnt so difficult to figure out why... he he!)

7. All in all, it turned out to be a good evening ..more than i had expected (Actually i had said yes to this idea only to see more than 10 indians in the same room... trust me, its a rare sight here!)

8.  ...and last but not the least... i was happy to discover that i still dont believe in making any new year resolutions!!

So, your turn now...what did you guys do?

When the orange turned green!

A three and half year old Gina sitting in the kindergarten room, angry at her mother for not sending her jam in the lunch but some vegetables, crushes her exam paper into a ball. Crushing the paper doesn’t curb her anger, so she stamps on the paper and feels a little better

All kids dash towards the door as soon as the bell rings handing their respective papers to the teacher, while she keeps sitting there. For she is angry, not in the mood to take any exams, even if it’s only a colouring exercise but she knows just too well that somehow she cant leave the room without turning her paper in.

So she just sits there, not particularly waiting for anything to happen but wanting it to end somehow.

The teacher, Miss T after counting one paper less in her pile, spots the only kid sitting in the last row asks her if she has submitted her's. Gina remains silent and Miss T figures that she herself must have forgotten to pass on the paper to this kid in the first place. So gives Gina one more paper to colour

This one too meets the same fate, joining the first ball under Gina's desk. Miss T having missed this the second time also, asks Gina to submit the paper after a while. Gina too, taking upon the teacher, shows consistency in her behaviour by being silent again. Miss T repeats the question in a loud voice “Where is your paper?" twice.

Not able to withstand her teacher’s lack of observation, Gina points towards the paperballs under her desk.

Miss T, after having spotted not one but two of those paperballs, sitting motionless now after loads of stamping , loses it and gives Gina one tight slap.

After the satisfying experience of slapping Gina, she gives her yet another paper to colour. This time Gina is convinced that Miss T’s sense of observation has been restored miraculously, so she focuses on just getting the whole colouring thing over with.

Gina colours and gives the paper back to Miss T. Both of them are just too glad to leave the room

“Wait, Gina, just one second” – Miss T stops Gina in her tracks. “What colour is an orange?”

“Orange” – Gina replies without blinking an eye

“And what colour have you filled in?” – asks confused Miss T.

“Green” – Gina replies without losing a second again

Miss T, angry at Gina’s defiant attitude, takes her to the principal’s office and narrates the whole incident emphasizing on Gina’s nerve to rebel against the teacher so openly. The principal decides to ask the child herself as to why would she choose to colour the orange green when she knows it should have been orange.

“Because its not ripe yet” - declares Gina.

The principal decides to rule in favour of Gina.

A day in the hospital!

9.30 am – The throbbing pain in the inflammated area around the boil once again convinces me that its never going to leave me. The hopeless optimist that i am , the hope of getting painkillers after the scheduled doctor visit keeps me alive

10.00 am – Though the visit to the doctor at 12.45pm seems zillions of years away in all that pain but I endure.

11.00 am – Crocin comes in as an interim painkiller

12.15 pm – One of my reportees, a kind soul, my favourite girl (Lets call her Daisy) comes to my house to pick me up for the doctors appointment. I eat Upma (a south Indian dish prepared & sent by an Indian colleague whose cooking enthusiasm still hasn’t faded. Then again, its only been 2 weeks since he arrived in this country and one week since he shifted to his apartment from the hotel)

12.40 pm – We reach the hospital. The number of cars parked in the street makes it look like a second hand car market. After 20 minutes of struggle, Daisy finally parks the car somewhere far away.

1.10 pm – I notice that it’s not a small clinic that I had envisioned when I got the appointment booked by another of my colleagues, Lily, the previous day. We enter the multistory hospital, figure which floor that particular doctor sits on, talk to the nurses and pay something like 1000 INR just to see the doctor.(No this is not the doctors consultation fees... thats separate, of course!) They tell us to wait as the doctor still has to arrive.

1.30 pm – We wait. I successfully hide my surprise on the doctor being late. The appointment was scheduled for 12.45 pm. But then again, we Indians ourselves are not the most punctual souls on the earth. So I smile. I start talking to Daisy to kill time. We manage to kill some time

1.45 pm – Daisy checks with the nurse. The doctor still hasn’t arrived. And my patience hasn’t run out yet. I wonder if this is how the term “patient” has come into being.

2.00 pm – I tell her how great a subordinate she is. She tells me how great a boss I am.

2.15 pm – Daisy again goes to check with the nurse about the doctors arrival. “Why wouldn’t we have called your name had the doctor come in?” - The nurse shouts at her, putting all doubts to rest about the power of her vocal chords....Just in case Daisy was wondering if not being called till now had to do with the faulty/ weak vocal chords of that nurse. I think all nurses are trained to read your minds.

2.30 pm – Daisy returns to her original waiting seat besides me. We try to kill some more time. I tell Daisy why I like her as a person, she tells me why she likes me.

2.45 pm – I start getting restless after waiting for so long. And Daisy starts getting uncomfortable sensing that she might have to go to the same nurse again. She puts her hands on her ears and gears up to go the nurse again. I tell her I have a better idea instead. I ask her to teach me how to say – “Has this doctor Mr. ABC arrived yet?” the local language. Dutifully , she obliges. I memorise it , I practice it. People around us think we are crazy and make no effort to hide their amusement .

2.48 pm – I go to the nurse’s desk. I throw the question in the local language at the nurse with confidence. The nurse hears me but doesn’t look up from the desk. I feel proud that I didn’t mutilate the language for this question and didnt let it turn out to be something laughable instead. So all goes well.... except for a small glitch. The nurse responds to my question. Of course, in the same language. Now not knowing what else to do, like a dumbass I repeat the question. I repeat it in the hope that the nurse would repeat her reply too, giving me a chance to memorise the content of her reply, to be translated by Daisy who is seated at a comfortable distance from these scary nurses. My memorization skills fail me but my courage perseveres. And I ask the question yet again. At this point the two nurses who had the back towards me look at me like I am a retard. I don’t blame them, instead pity them at their inability to admire my linguistic capabilities. The first nurse decides to have a little fun with me and changes her original reply. Just when I think I am getting there… just when I think its only a matter of catching the second half of her reply (the first half was there in my mind, thanks to the first two times the nurse yelled at me). I remember just in time that I am a realist and I give up.

2.50 pm – I come back to the waiting seats. Daisy asks me if I was able to remember & replay the question. When I nod my head in affirmation, she gives me a confused look silently asking me why then I don’t seem to have an answer. I am glad to be the one to announce this newly discovered epiphany to her that just memorising the question isn’t enough to get the answers… you need to be able to actually understand the answers. At this point me and Daisy decide this is amusing. So we honour this series of events with a hearty laugh.

3.15 pm – I hear a white angel call my name. The voice is distant and it all seems so mystical with a backdrop of pristine white clouds, the floating white robe of the angel and the total lack of gravity. I begin to smile only to realise that Daisy is shaking me out of my slumber. The absence of all that mystical aura makes me wince. I tell myself at least I am not dead yet…. and that should be a good thing. But at this moment, I dont do a good job of convincing myself .

3.20 pm- I drag myself to the doctors waiting room (Where was I before that, you ask? Oh even though the hospital is in a similar condition as any other government facility, waiting rooms are something the architect hasn’t compromised on) Of course, I wait for my name to be called.

3.30 pm - The door to his room finally opens and the patient comes out. But like all other social etiquette in this country, saying bye is also an elaborate process and takes more than 10 minutes. Yes ladies and gentlemen, 10 F****** minutes to say bye to your doctor, in his working hours, when he has a room full of patients to attend to, when he’s about three hours late for his scheduled appointment. I am about to yell at that damn woman patient but just then, thankfully, I remember my virtual silencer that I keep handy for situations just like these (In case you are wondering what a virtual silencer is, its just a combination of a LOT of conviction that yelling doesn’t help AND the actual motion of putting one hand over your mouth. I usually charge royalty for giving away this therapeutic technique of mine, but what the heck…. You guys are my loyal readers!)

3.45 pm – The doctor sees me, makes small talk about India and asks me to lie down for him to examine me. One look at me and he decides that he wants to cut me open. That I need an operation. Ok ok a minor operation. But an o.p.e.r.a.t.i.o.n nevertheless. I ask him about the money I would need for this. After he’s done telling me that it would cost a small fortune I excuse myself from his cabin on the pretext of arranging the money. You see after one fateful evening in the most famous mall of this city (a blog post for another time!), I do not carry much cash with me.

3.50 pm – I tell Daisy I am not sure about this cutting thing. I ask her about what I should do. She calls the girl in the office, Lily, who has directed me to this doctor. Lily in turn calls her uncle, who has got me the appointment in the first place. The uncle of course calls the doctor. And then the obvious happens. The circle follows the reverse motion - Uncle calls Lily, Lily calls Daisy and I get notified that the doctor thinks I should let them do it. Errr… but isn’t that where I started from? Do i know any better reason now to go ahead with the operation apart from the fact that the Doctor said so?. But then, I cant tell for sure, can I?….Afterall my head is reeling under all this pressure of having to decide about something like this, when all I wanted from the doctor was a goddamn prescription for some antibiotic pills.

4.00 pm – I surrender to the forces. Daisy offers to go and get the money from any nearby ATM. Before that she admits me in the hospital. Yes as you must have guessed, the operation can’t be performed on an out-patient. The room is dirty but with the magic of little tips to the cleaning lady, it becomes manageable with sheets on the bed changed, floor wiped and a supply of tissues, soaps & clean flannel gown.

4.30 pm – They tell me I will be taken to the operation theatre in a bit. I wait on the bed in a once-white flannel gown. Daisy is back from the ATM & has ordered food from KFC on my suggestion. She is elated on her discovery of KFC delivering even in the hospitals.

4.40 pm – The nurse pricks my finger for diabetes test. I try hard to see if the needle is a new one. Damn, she hides it just too well. Instead she tells Daisy in the local language that she finds me beautiful (as a compensation probably) and asks her which nationality I am. I wonder if this is a way of extracting better tips.

4.50 pm – Two men come to the room with a patient on the stretcher and put her on the bed adjacent to mine. They motion with their hands for me to get on the stretcher. I worry that the sheet on the stretcher is not clean. I get them to change that. Then I worry my flannel gown will fly open as the nurse never gave me that promised piece of clothing to cover my back. I manage to hold the gown tightly on me with difficulty ...but I manage.

4.55 pm – I wonder why this one nurse keeps touching my face saying something like “pretty face”. Ok I know she means well and I don’t have any problem with her freedom of speech, it’s the freedom to touch, and that too repeatedly, that I am not ok with. For the life of me , I cant figure out why in the world, would you wish to touch a strangers face, so many times.

4.55 pm – I go from floor to floor in an elevator and enjoy the horizontal view. I never realised that the world looked so different from this angle. I discover that I am claustrophobic when it comes to lying on a stretcher in an elevator, surrounded closely with 6 strangers headed to different floors. The elevator isn’t big. I don’t want my vision to go anywhere but their faces and I expect the same from them. At this point, I am sure I am getting too ambitious with these expectations.

5.00 pm – It suddenly hist me that I am headed to an Operation Theatre. I am reminded of the fancy ambience that surrounds almost all the surgeries in “Greys Anatomy”. I don’t feel very non glamorous now.

5.01 pm – I am lying on the same stretcher outside a small room they store their drugs in. So much for the fancy ambience...eh? There are no handsome doctors parading around in their blue scrubs either. No Mcdreamy, no Mcsteamy, no Alex, not even Adison Montogomery. I am starting to see the glamour fly out of the non existent window. I make a mental note to stop watching the reruns of Grey’s Anatomy.

5.10 pm – I finally move to the OT. The condition of OT doesn’t help me get back that receding glamour quotient .

5.12 pm – The anaesthetist introduces himself and asks me to narrate some interesting experience as a foreigner in this country. I tell him about the day I went to register a police complaint about the theft of my handbag. I narrate how the police guys kept asking me repeatedly for my name with the conversation going something like this - Police - “Name please” Me – “ABC” Police – “yes , yes but name”. Me – “I said ABC”, Police – “yes we know but name” Me – “its ABC” Police - * a long sigh* "could you please tell us your N.A.M.E". Me – “Its A.B.C.” All this while the nurses in the OT along with the anaesthetist & the other doctor are laughing their lungs out. (To complete the story … after repeated attempts of me telling them my name, a sudden realization dawned upon me and it all made sense. I remembered that my name in their local language means “Theft” . Yes you read it right….it means theft. Need I say more? Replace "Theft" in place of ABC in this conversation ...and then you see why these police guys were so exasperated with me)

5.15 pm – I have been injected with the local anaesthesia already. While I was busy narrating this story, the anaesthetist was busy pricking the needle in my abdominal abscess from all angles. I worry that the local anaesthesia is not effective; so the doctor gives me a demo by scratching that area with a needle and proving to me that the area indeed is numb. Given the limited periphery of my vision right now, i realise its wise to graciously choose to believe what the doctor is telling me. You see even if i tried i couldnt have caught his adept fingers at holding the needle just a mm away from my skin and making me believe otherwise.

5.16 pm – At this point in time, the other doctor (my main doctor) decides hes been idle for too long so he springs to action. I cant see his hand movements fully but I can see a blade like thing in his hand. As much as I try I cant escape from thinking about the movie Awake. I really dont want to remember the movie at this moment, especially the anesthetic awareness scene where the anaesthesia gives the patient partial paralysis, so while he cant move or speak, he can feel everything the doctors do to him . I mean every damn thing. I see the doctor’s hands moving and I can see my psychologically felt pain yet I don’t feel anything. Physically, of course!

5.36 pm – The doctor announces that the cut went deeper than he thought and would take about one week to ten days to heal. Writes a prescription for those damn antibiotics.... ahhhh, finally! Asks me to come see him in his clinic after one day for change of dressing.

5.38 pm – Its time to take the horizontal tour again, to the elevator, to the allotted room... back to the same bed.

5.45 pm – Daisy is called again on the OT floor as she hasn’t paid one nurse her undeserved tip

5.46 pm – I start changing into my clothes and happen to see the size of the bandage. A small scream escapes my mouth. Okay, the doctor prepared me for deep but this long…. I see that the bandage spans more than one foot long.

5.55 pm –Daisy finishes all paperwork, billing and tipping. In case you are wondering, no it wasn’t a government managed hospital. The bills would testify for that.

6.15 pm – I am finally home with a 35 cm long bandage on my belly, sitting in front of TV promising myself to remember the salt names for antibiotic medicines for future (Could have bought these antibiotics from a pharmacy in the first place …. only if I had the memory to remember these names OR sense to check with someone back home for the same OR the intelligence to figure that in this country you need a prescription to make a medicinal purchase)

Amitabh Bachchan ...five five five

Before i moved to this country , i did some net surfing to read up a little bit , just to get an idea of how life is going to be for me , an Indian there. Out of the many things that i learnt prior to my coming here was that these people just looooove Bollywood.... and the first thing that leaves their lips , after they realise / are told that you are an Indian , is "Amitabh Bachchan" (but pronounced more as Amitaaa Bachchan)

After being here for a week , surprisingly enough i hadnt come across any local who uttered the name of this Bollywood legend after getting to know that I am an Indian. So just when i was about to discard this whole theory of "India = Amitaaa Bachchan" according to the localites here , I happened to hire this cab.

Ok, so heres what happened!

One day after work , after much difficulty , i finally managed to get a cab to go to my hotel after work. (usually its pretty easy to find a cab ...just my luck that day , i guess!). So usually it takes about 6 bucks for this commute from my office to the Hotel , however i generally give ten when I am in a hurry and dont wish to waste time in negotiating. That day i was tired of trying to get a cab ...I had stopped some 6 cabs , told them where i want to go (by showing them this paper slip which i carry with me , one side of which has my hotel address , another side my office address written in the local language!)... and finally had managed to get inside one. This cab driver couldnt understand that i would pay him ten bucks (which is much more than its actually worth) , so i had to gesture 5 twice with my hand , just so he could understand the figure ten.

I dont know whether he understood or not , but i got in the cab anyway . On the way , he asked me if i was an American. I said no and tried to explain that I am fom India. He didnt understand India , but intelligently enough linked it to Hind after thinking for some time (Hind is a more common word for Indians/ India here!) . Just as he made this discovery , his eyes twinkled in delight , and pat came the words - "Amitaaa Bachchan?" . Then as if something hit him , the expression on his face took a 360 degree turn . He told me - "No five five...Amitaa Bachchan....five five five". And after that he kept singing five five five , Amitaa Bachchan , five five five ..... (repeat).....(repeat)...... wasnt ready to listen to me when i tried to protest.

So i sat calmly and thought to myself that i shouldnt ruin his moment of joy with this discovery of me being a Hind , or the discovery of his vocal talent at that very moment , or just remembering to practice his vocal chords (in case he was alraedy aware of his talent OR in case his family didnt let him practice in teh house , hence he was seeking refuge in the workplace i.e. the cab). When we reached my hotel , i told him NO five five five , only five five. He looked at me , made a puppy face and then not so happily took the money . He asked my name meanwhile and after that said - Man name?? (Surprisingly suddenly he knew English!) I said no Man. He then gestured to ask - how come i didnt have a bindi on my forehead if i was a Hind? I said no Man (once again) , No Marriage.... Then he suggested through hand gestures that maybe we should get married....

Out of all the unexpected that i had expected , these sure werent on my list .

.....A cab driver proposing marriage to me!

.....Amitabh Bachchan adding an extra five bucks in my cab fare!

So moral of the story - However much you try to preampt the unexpected , more often than not you will be taken aback (And if you are lucky , maybe this unexpected would amuse you too!)