Modesty, thy name is me !!!

I won the "You think you are funny ?" caption contest number 15 at LazyPineapple.

Now, as part of my New Year resolution, I had decided to add modesty to the list of virtues to attain by the end of the year ( it comes right in between "join a biker gang" and "using nuclear physics to get a girl." )

So, to honour this resolution, I will not be twirling my thumb and saying "thengaaaa" to the loser competitiors.

I will not be doing the macarena and celebrating this victory... after this last time.
"they all want me, they can´t have me
So they all come and dance beside me
( Oh come on, it's no fun if you're just reading the lines.. you have to do the dance too !! Now, continue with arms outstretched.. )
move with me jam with me
and if your good i take you home with me
A la tuhuelpa legria macarena
Que tuhuelce paralla legria cosabuena.... "
( Sniff.. such meaningful lyrics. Always brings a tear to my eyes.. sniff )


Anyway, continuing, I will not be dropping my pants a la Chatur Ramalingam ( Silencer ) in 3 IDIOTS and pointing out "Ithe, losers !!!"

I will not talk about sentimental stuff like my friends and how I inspire them everyday in a million ways or my teachers and how I've learned so much from them ( the ancient art of sleeping with my eyes wide open in class, the art of eating the crispiest chips in class without a single "CRUNCH" sound ) or crazy stuff like the monster in my closet which refuses to leave because it's in love with my clothes hanger.

I will not use this as an excuse to talk about my charity work. That's right, I will not be making a big fuss about the ANONYMOUS $10/- donations I give every year to the "Save the Whales ( Eat sharks instead - they taste better )" foundation... or the $10,000/- donations to the "Save Lindsay Lohan" foundation. [ God bless that druggie, drunk and disorderly lesbian. The world needs more misguided ding-dongs like her so that women everywhere will have a better self-esteem of themselves. ]

I may or may not wear my yellow polka dotted super hero outfit and stand on top of the tallest building in my hometown, while my adoring fans gush and scream "Is it a bird ? Is it a plane ? Is it my next boyfriend ??"

And of course, I most certainly will not be making an acceptance speech like the earlier ones I made
1) when I appeared in the Times of India newspaper or when
2) Orkutheroes gave my blog a rave review.

Whew !! Being modest is hard work. Thank God I'm up to the task.
Now that that's done...
Men, you may envy me.
Kids, aspire to be me.
And women.. you may stalk me. I permit thee.

P.S. Thanks Vinita. Please don't refrain from giving me future awards based on this.. I promise I'll behave next time !!!

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My God, my prankster.

Out of the 330 million Gods in Hinduism, I'm quite sure, one of them is out to get me. I mean, it seems ridiculous that one man could get into so many embarrassing situations as I find myself on a regular interval. Somewhere up there, there's a God - not the holy trinity, I'm sure, but some lower level God named Prank-a-Deva - probably an unshaven rebel, having a packet of ganja in one of his 4 hands in addition to the mandatory conch, lotus and mace, wearing a leather jacket and having a tattoo on his shoulder saying "Good girls reach heaven. Bad girls stay at my place" - a God who's got my face on his dartboard.

You think I'm exaggerating ? Really ? Then allow me to elaborate.
It's early in the morning, I'm standing with my mom and a crowd of atleast 50, in a place where God and me least expect to meet each other - A temple. After staying up till 3am, catching up on 30 Rock episodes and sympathising ( or is it empathising ? ) with Tina Fey, I can barely keep my eyes open. The fact that I'm shirtless doesn't help. ( Just so we're clear - I have the body of Salman Khan... if he ever got pregnant. With twins. Fat twins. )

So there we are, everyone waiting in silence for the doors to open to get a glimpse of the Lord and discuss their issues and seek his giudance face to face.. and my mobile rings loudly.

Embarrassing ? Oh, you have no idea. You see, let me now show you all the pieces of this particular tableau.

Since I've been too lazy to change my ringtone since my exam ( the time I usually find religion ), the tone for general calls is my version of a religious tone - "Aye Khuda mujhko bata tu rehta kahan kya tera pata." from Paathshala.
What a nice story it would have been had that ringtone rang. All those families would have gone back home telling how it was a sign from God and how touching it was. Atleast I imagine they would have. But then, my luck never works out that way, does it ?

As I said, 6 billion human beings on Earth could have called from their landlines, cell phones or the internet and that would have been the ringtone that played in the temple that morning. Heck, forget 6 billion humans, even if Lassie had accidently stepped on the correct sequence of numbers on his mobile, it would have played this ringtone on my mobile.

Instead, it was a junior I'd chatted with last night who chose, AT THAT VERY INSTANT, to role over in his sleep, and land on the REDIAL button of his mobile. One of 4 homo sapiens in the whole world whose mobile call activates a different ringtone in my mobile. The song that all those families heard as they waited for God to answer their prayers that morning ?
"Maa da Laadla bigadh gaya Maa da laadla bigadh gaya." from Dostana.

By the time, I could get to my phone and cancel the call, I had got my morning dose of sniggers, giggles and even a weird stare from an old lady who looked at the mobile as if it were trying to warn her that I was a demon !! And all those families got a great story to tell their friends and family that morning, I presume. As for me, well, I sheepishly shut my eyes and prayed I was invisible as I completed my rounds of the temple.
Which of course resulted in me stomping on the above mentioned old lady's leg. Boy, I can tell you, for an old lady in a temple, she sure had some pretty impure words to say to me...

Sigh... somewhere up there, Prank-a-Deva is probably mighty pleased with himself, sipping amrit from a beer mug and watching apsaras dance to "Munna Badnaam Hua Darling Tere Liye" up there in heaven. Oh well, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
"Mein Zandu balm hui daarling tere liye.."

Happy Onam everyone..

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My Bloody JRs

"You bloody JRssssss !!!"

The first time that phrase was uttered by us, I doubt if there was much love in it. It was probably out of frustration after watching our new set of 8 juniors find a fresh and unique way of getting us into trouble. As CRs ( Chief Residents ; JRs stand for Junior Residents ), we were responsible for all their blunders while simultaneously, in charge of teaching them the subject. And while the two of us were definitely not the greatest options in the latter, we did our best in the former.




Each mistake would be accompanied by a "You Bloody J-Rs !! In our time, things were not so easy. Blah blah blah.. Everytime I tell you people and everytime you forget.. blah blah..." I imagine that's how it is when dealing with juniors for the first time. But soon, we learned to dissociate work from personal time and got to be friends with the 8 of them - a decision we've never regretted.

From sharing in their individual unique qualities to saving them from the senior staff's anger by hiding their follies, it's been a wild ride. In less than one year, we made more memories with them than we had in the past two years.
More importantly, we learnt a lot about ourselves from them too.

This video is just a thank you note... for being the crazy set of juniors that you are..
Till we meet again,
Your "bloody" CR
Roshan.

P.S. A week before I left, I witnessed one of them calling her new junior "a Bloody JR" for some mistake of his. The junior complained that there was no need to be so harsh.
Her reply made me smile... "Someday you'll be proud to be a bloody J-R."

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Return to Amberville - Guardian Angel

Author's note : Amberville is a purely fictitious town where morals are a dime a dozen and all is not as it seems. Earlier posts included Amberville and Payback, besides the extremely long Chasing August.. I really just wanted to revisit this town once more. Have a nice read.



I try to look up as the cold steel of the barrel touches my head. I find I can't see beyond tiny horizontal slits. I imagine having two black eyes would have looked comical under different circumstances. I try to smile but the pain running through my chest is like a jagged knife.
This is the end of my story. I know it. And it's ok. I had a good run. I open my mouth and exhale, my ribs groaning under the additional burden.
"Do you have any last words ?" asks the voice. It's closer now than before, waiting for me to break.
I nod. I can feel that breath - a hint of peppermint, on me. I say the only things that come to my mind.
"Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name."
My assailant withdraws away in anger.
"Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.."
I hear the gun's safety go off.
"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses.."
I see a red light directly pass through my line of vision. I know that light. Sniper. There's more than one bullet with my name on it tonight.
"lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."
The gunshot reverberates like a thunderclap through the still night.
And then there is darkness.

1 week ago.
It was a routine job. B-E-R-M, we call it. Breaking- entering-robbery-murder. Make it look like a robbery gone wrong. But somebody had goofed up and sent me the wrong order. There was to be a woman involved. I don't do women.
It's my quirk and I'd maintained that policy since I got into the business. My 'agents' were okay with my policy because I was the best at what I did. Yet here, they'd sent me the wrong file. Calls were made, I imagine they spoke to the larger fish that fed them and in the end, they agreed to let me keep the case and do it my way. It was simple enough. A wealthy business man and his blonde trophy wife. One man dead, one bewildered widow. I didn't ask why. I don't get paid for my chatter.

The file was elaborate and detailed to the last point, as always. An insider, I imagined. Perhaps the maid servant or the driver was in on it. It didn't matter. I had what I needed. My way in.

I knew that the husband and wife slept in separate rooms. So once inside, I went as per the plan. I locked up the wife's room from the outside. It wouldn't help to have a hysterical woman running around the house before I was gone. Once that was done, I made my way to his room and entered silently.

He lay asleep, his whole body covered under the sheets. The file said he slept that way. I wonder who knew such intimate details about him. The maid servant ? Perhaps she had slept with him while the wife was away... perhaps a jilted lover ? It didn't matter.
I wasn't there to judge him.
I was there to execute him.

I attached the silencer to the automatic and aimed at the sheets. A sigh passed through the sheets and he turned to sleep the other way. I stopped a fraction of a second before my finger pressed the trigger.
Pink nails.
In the clear moonlight passing through the window, I'd seen small pink nails as the figure had turned to sleep.
I came closer and lifted the sheet, my brain sending out alarm bells my heart was responding to.
It was a small girl. The file had never mentioned anything about a small girl. What was going on ?
In the silence of the night, I heard a sound outside the door... a sound I knew byheart from years of experience. It was the sound of a silencer being attached to a gun.
The girl's eyes opened and stared straight at me.
It was a setup. I wasn't to be the executioner.
I was the fall guy.
I felt her pull at my sleeve.
She asked " Are you my guardian angel ?"

Click here to read the ending of The Guardian Angel

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Return to Amberville - Guardian Angel : The End

It's been 5 days since the night of the botched robbery. I sat and recalled in my mind's eye the fond memories of the last week - Tina playing with the PSP, talkative Tina, the Tina who adores pink frocks, loves her cereal with the milk cold and hates the Teletubbies. She is nine years old. The same age my Debbie would have been, had she been alive.

I've been busy these last few days. Figuring out the missing pieces. I've got most of them now from the agency, who were remarkably apologetic and contrite for not double checking the file...
It had of course been a setup. I was supposed to be framed for the murder of the wife and kid. The husband had been having an affair. He was out of town that night... at a public dinner meeting of the company. Making his alibi amongst cocktails and expensive wine. He hadn't counted on me killing the hitman who was sent to finish me off at the mansion. That had to hurt. There was nothing on the news - not of the break-in or attempted robbery... not of the missing child.

The agency didn't have any answers for that.. they were still searching, they told me. There was still a big part of the jigsaw puzzle missing - I just couldn't figure it out yet. Of course, they weren't the only ones searching high and low. I knew it was only a matter of time before the trail led back to me. I'd spotted the grey sedan parked down the neighbourhood last night. Two beefy men sat in the front seat...waiting. For me. For Tina.




Tina. Little Tina. All of nine years. She saw me kill the hitman in front of her eyes. She's seen me with blood on my hands. And yet, she trusted me enough to come with me when I called. Me... a complete stranger. The one she called her guardian angel. It's a responsibility I ain't getting paid for. It's a responsibility I'm ready to die for. I have to protect her from the big bad wolves of the world...wolves like me, only worse.

The doorbell rings. Pizzaman. I'd ordered it with extra meatballs. Just the way Tina likes it. I open the door.

And am greeted by the business end of a baseball bat.


In the end, it is the stench that wakes me up. It isn't the decay of human or animal waste... it's a familiar unpleasant smell. The smell of a town gone bad.. one left lawless and under the mercy of those who crave blood. I'm back where I started out... Amberville. The city that made me who I am. The city finally decided to seek it's reward for my creation. Blood for blood.

"Where is she ? Where is that bitch ?? " The voice breaks as it screams at me. It's mannish,yet not man enough to be one. Like a bird trying to fly, but stumbling at the last moment. I stare up through the darkness. And everything makes sense.

The agency never makes mistakes. They're good at their job. They select their hitmen with precision. How could I have missed that ? I wasn't a random choice. That file was meant for me all along. They gave it to me, knowing fully well I would never kill the woman. Because they needed that... they needed to make sure that even in case of an unforeseen incident, I wouldn't kill the woman.

Their employer. The trophy wife towering above me.

My thoughts are interrupted by Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum on either side of me. They mistake me for a pigskin and take turns kicking me around. I hear a rib crack. I fight the pain.

After a few more freeshots, they back away. I smell roses in her perfume.. it's an exotic one. I can't place the brand. She catches me by my hair and raises my head to hers.

"Where is the girl ?"

I smile. I'd always known I'd be found. And that they'd come for me. For her. On the pretext of taking her to the park, I'd changed lanes and cars and finally dropped her off at Maria's. Heaven help the man who tried to mess with her. She'd raised 7 kids in the block to be professional hitmen. I should know. I was one of them. It broke my heart that Tina cried as I left her. A friendship of 5 days... and yet she saw the human within the monster.

My smile speaks more than my silence apparently. She realises she's isn't going to get it out of me. We 'professionals' are hard to break down. The mob may have invented it, but we perfected the "code of silence". Omerta.

She slaps me on the face. Childish. But insulting. Catches me in the eye. I blink away the small trickle of blood that's starting to cloud my view. My ribs ache from the pounding they've received.

I hear her annoying voice say "He won't talk. Kill him and dump the body. Make it quick. We need to find that girl and kill her. "
The footsteps get closer and closer. The two goons. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.

I try to look up as the cold steel of the barrel touches my head. I find I can't see beyond tiny horizontal slits. I imagine having two black eyes would have looked comical under different circumstances. I try to smile but the pain running through my chest is like a jagged knife.
This is the end of my story. I know it. And it's ok. I had a good run. I open my mouth and exhale, my ribs groaning under the additional burden.
"Do you have any last words ?" asks the voice. It's closer now than before, waiting for me to break.
I nod. I can feel that breath - a hint of peppermint, on me. I say the only things that come to my mind.
"Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name."
My assailant withdraws away in anger.
"Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.."
I hear the gun's safety go off.
"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses.."
I see a red light directly pass through my line of vision. I know that light. Sniper. There's more than one bullet with my name on it tonight.
"...lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."
The gunshot reverberates like a thunderclap through the still night.
And then there is darkness.


Chaos is like a raging bull on steroids. Maria's boys are no amateurs. They know the first thing to do is to gain the tactical advantage. They've taken out the lights. I fall down and roll over, away from where trophy wife's goons last saw me and would fire. I make it just in time as the bullet shaves past my cheek. Bullets whiz by me, none coming close. My ribs crack further and I have to bite back the nausea. I hear Tweedle Dee go down. And then feel two hands clawing at my face.

I scream in pain and turn on my assailant. The beating may have left me blinded but I let my instincts take over. I rain blow after blow down on flesh and bone. I hear the former give way and the latter crack. I think of how a mother could be so heartless so as to kill her own child just to spite her husband. How a sweet girl like Tina deserved to live and have cupboards full of pink frocks and cereals and cold milk. How she'd be a good girl in school and steal many a boy's heart with that sweet smile as she grew up.
I remember my code about not harming women. I tell myself that I can't see - that it's only Tweedle Dum.

The cry for mercy sounds mannish, yet not man enough to be one. Like a bird trying to fly, but stumbling at the last moment.
I can still smell the roses long after the body goes limp.

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