Of men and their waists

Let me first announce that I have taken the liberty of being a social anthropologist much to your detests and protests. You may know that I am neither that observant nor am I patient. But there are strange waist changing experiences in my life that happened quietly over the last 10 years that make me feel that I am qualified. So I go ahead....

Men (when they start becoming one) at the age of 16, start caring a bit about their waist. Thats for many reasons. I remember a few.

1. The much awaited graduation from nicker or arai-drawer or nijar to a full pant. This makes any man in the making, concious. The full pant should fit rightly to the waist so that it neither sweeps the floor nor does it reveal that bony portion above the feet. So waist suddenly becomes a matter of importance
2. Second reason they care about waist suddenly is that..well...i dont know..

When its 18, waist becomes a matter of utmost importance and distress. The man would have graduated from tailor stichted pants made out of vimal suitings to something from the authentic men's world of dressing - The Allen solly's and Louis Phillipe's of the world. Welcome to the world of men through 28 inches. Suddenly he feels like he has arrived. With the unnatural knowledge of Karl Lagerfield, Valentino Rudi gained from excessive watching of F TV, the man begins to believe that he is indeed fashion.

When he reaches 21, when its time to flex some muscles and get some girls up the alley the man's attention turns again to the waist. He embarks on a lifelong journey of trying to cut down the flab and conquer those two inches for the rest of life to look fit for his age. The war of attrition you may call this one to be. With the Allen Solly's and Louis Phillipe's still assuring him that, inspite of crossing 30 inches he is still a fit man, he goes on to woo the women who mysteriously stay put at 28 inches or even worse, 26 inches. I believe in the non-linearity of life and that's what people call as "hope" in a philosophical conversation. You cant get a more stark evidence of it when you see a girl at her 20 and at her 30. The waist size zooms from 28 to 38 or even 40 in some not so exceptional cases.

At 24 the man's concerns about his waist are different.He has already learnt the art of positive living. He knows words like obesity can mean prosperity as well. He realizes for a moment that, its ok to be 32 inches or even much more. What matters is what job he has and how it can win the best girl in town. Thats what he thinks, till he indeed gets that women out of sheer staying power, money power and luck. Then she comes into life and goes away like how the evergrowing waistline dodges men. After she's gone, a liberal intake of liquor and lot of gas about women make him swell to 34.

This time man tries and succeeds in most cases to marry of woman of (no longer his) choice through arranged marriage. Thats 27 years into this world. Parties, home food and lot of unqualified and undeserved attention from various quarters would mean that its time to be concerned about the waist. Now the waist starts a linear progression competing with his age. The sizes raise in proportion. 36 when he is 27 and 46 when he is 37 and 50 when he is 47.

He stops noticing his waist becuase the illusion of the disappeared legs remind him of ghosts and thats one scary thought, you bet!

Along comes the doctor who advises him to cut down on everything he can eat, smell and see. There comes the miracle! At 60, finally his waist size comes down to 36! But the journey has to go on for the human kind. His son is now 27 years old and on a journey of inflating his waistline while if its a daughter she would have just started the process of looking like a parabolic curve from the top angle!

Of men and their waists.

- The author works for an IT company. He is paid well. He is recently married and he like cooking and eating. His wife likes chocolates and butter.

Vital Stats: Waist (34 inches, when the tummy is tucked in firmly to the extent of jamming the lung walls)

I want to become dad!

For the un-initiated, I am married and so the title.

But there is a deeper meaning to it. Well, craving if I should admit. I generally believe and will stick to my belief that kids are those annoyingly noisy things that happen to you when you are watching a movie in theatre paying 500 bucks or negotiate hard with the brain cells and count the sheep hundred times to sleep as you travel in a train.

So my love for kids is largely not our of the fatherly craving for the kid's giggles, mischeives or the sheer energy. There are different but important reasons.

I live with dad and my wife. They are not like me in daily state of affairs at home.

• They never forget keys or never keep the main door open. I never remember any of these. I either dont lock when I leave or I leave the keys on the lock when I come in. What's wrong in it? After all lock is where the key should be! My wife doesnt seem to agree!
• Cockroaches and Lizards form the greatest components of the food chain. I die seeing cockroaches. So I am okay with lizards at home that kill these cockroaches. My wife dies when she sees lizards. I dont mind (I meant I dont mind if she decides to run away or kill herself). She would call me up (when I am driving) to ask me to do something about the gatekeeper lizard who is on a 2 month hibernation now. Well I cant talk to a lizard. Not definitely over the phone. Not when I am driving a car towards an oncoming policeman. Her negotiation skills are not good (In all our negotiations she wins by sheer force of vocal chord or ability to use kitchen utensils or both). So the lizard is there. She is there. I am expected to come home and plead the lizard to leave while the cockroaches make merry at the expense of my BP.
• I like museums when they have a marked place in the scheme of things. Bedroom is certianly not one of those places to locate a museum. My wife disagrees (This is one situation where my negotiation skills dont work. The other party should also be willing to negotiate. In this case the other party uses vocal force that would relieve even my constipation). Right now my bedroom floor has a vinyl bag (which paati's call as travel bag. The one they bring for weddings. It has a broad cover with a zip which no one closes and you stuff in things the way you want. My wife does that. Clothes that are meant for ironing (we have an iron bag), clothes meant for washing (we have a laundry bag), clothes that for just need plain folding (we have a wardrobe). Will all these, the clothes will still be dripping out on the floor from the ever open vinyl bag. Then there is a tiffin bag (we have kitchen and also a storage area under our bed). There is also a file that has all her original certificates (we have a bank locker and that wardrobe with keys). No we wont use them. No we wont even if ants find refuge near and around. My wife hates ants (Not that anyone has a soft corner for cutey goody ant. But she says she hates ants. Strange.) Well so now you know where the museum is.
• There is this refrigerator (success in spelling it right). I dont like keeping anything on top of it. But If I leave that part un-attended you will see the following on top of the fridge next time you come to my home:
• Plastic bag with nothing
• Plastic bag with soemthing that is unrecognizable
• One goodday biscuit which no one will eat
• Wrist watch that works
• Wrist watch that does not work
• invitation letters from others
• Our own marriage invitation (?!)
• Bit notice asking me to join abacus training so that I can pass with flying colors in twelfth standard. Not that I passed with flying colors when I did. But why stir old memories.

Its for these and such other reasons I need a kid. Afterall you need a company face these funny miseries...lol

Long time!

Its been a while since I wrote. While it does make my day less complete, there are many other things that I dont do that I wish I do and things that I wish I dont do, but I do.

I dont read news paper anymore for more than 10 minutes.I dont visit the beach.I dont go for a walk.I dont work on my ideas. I dont sleep late and wake up late. I dont watch discovery travel and living. I am not able to leave my room uncleaned. I am not able to smell only my smell at home. I dont go anywhere, alone. I dont do nothing anymore. There is always something to do. Some one to meet or some work to attend to. There are things that I buy that I dont use. There is a phone that rings that is not mine. I dont invest actively, because I dont have time. I dont blog. I dont leave the door open anymore for the air to come in. I am learning to be patient even as I wish I am impatient. I am impatient even as I wish I am patient. I get angry. I get worried. I like the fact that my weekend would no longer be in the company of solitude. I dont like the fact that, that one weekend which I want to be lonely, I may not afford to be.

Life has changed. In most ways, it wont be the same again.

I am married!

Liftukku ulla

Everytime I enter my office lift, I pray for a couple of things.

1. The lift should not stop in the middle of nowhere

2. It should not go on a free-fall. With just a couple of months from marriage, I dont want anything to go wrong. One wrong thing every two months should suffice. Nothing more.

Now I have added one more to this prayer list

3. I should not kill or get killed in a lift by co-passengers!

There are many lift gangs in our office. One of them thinks its their duty to ensure that the roof of the lift does not fall on us and its their job to hold it up. Noble! If only our corporate services department sponsers them free deo.Sometimes I wonder why should I not take a pollution mask inside the lift.

There is another gult gang. If they being gult is not a reason enough to roll into a laughter, they start talking absoultely incomprehensible stuff like "Ikkada yeralagada yamaga kavali and end it with a perfectly sane sound in gult-dom...."brrrrrrttt". If you dont know what this sound is, lemme tell you, even I dont know. But it comes from the mouth and not from the other obvious place. That sends me into a laughing vortex that never seems to leave me. I feel bad, but I laugh my guts out in front, back and side of them. I pray one of them doesnt turn out to be a naxalite.

Another set of creatures enter the lift like rapid action force that is there to defuse a hydrogen bomb. They never seem to mind even if they were to be spat at. I never seem to see the invisible "Balaji" or the laddu at the end of the lift. But that perhaps is the only possible motive for such devotion to elbow out the rest of the people to reach the back of the lift. I dont know why they dont get killed by a falling fan in their own living rooms!

There is another set of patients with compulsive tag-starring syndrome. I purposefully turn my id tag towards my chest or (flat) tummy just to avoid them starring at my id card and calculating my seniority in the organization. The junior you are the fiercer the stare would be and stronger their urge to bully you to one of the nooks of the lift.

There is yet another completely nervous crowd that gets out of the lift in every damned floor even if they have to get at the last stop. In the process they dont just confuse you, but also confuse the damned lift even!!

I hope I dont indulge in a skirmish and kill one of the ultra-crazy lift-goers or get killed in the process!!

I came here to write

I came here to write something funny. I have somethings funny to do, to say and to write. Thankfully I never run of them and I guess I never would.

But today its not about any of them. It's about my apprehensions.

I like reading stories after knowing the end. I watch movies only when I like the story.I dont mind reading the last page or seeing a few scenes before deciding. Purpose is very important for me. Be it movies,books or life.

It's this fixation to a purpose that tires me these days. I am what i am.I cannot be any different in this case. But right now and for the past few years the purpose of my professional life has largely been under-served or under-nourished. From great initiatives to absolute disillusionment- I've been through them all. From greatest men to wastrels - I've worked under them all and showed awe and fake-nods equally sincerely.I've chased dreams just to be disturbed in between. I've already spent half a decade doing largely nothing & occassionally well.

I've been a great leader, beloved boss, amazing friend. I've learnt. I've taught. I've inspired.I've been inspired.I've slogged. I've shown promise. I delivered.

In spite of all this, I was never interested and never achieved the greats I wish I had.I've not seen the world beyond my fences, nor have I dared much. I have not earnt the best fortunes. I promise myself every year to make the coming year different and deservingly better. But I have never been able to do that.

There has been a persistent "wait and watch" happening. Like the books I read or movies I watch, I am not able to turn to the cover to know what's in store and then go through the motion and enjoy it. Unfortunately the life story unfolds only one living second at a time. I'm impatient to be without control over the future and control over my life.

They say the only way is to work hard. They never say "Till when?" or "Till What?" and "To get what?"

Life has more questions than answers now.

I dont find a reason yet...

Its been a while since I wrote. I dont find topics to write. Thinking of it, there are many reasons.

May be its the marriage that is around the corner. Many brave men slip into the valley of yawn, boredom and absolution disorientation when marriage strikes. May be that's the reason.

Perhaps I am no longer creative. When people at the age of Amitabh Bachchan can still have their creative juices flowing (like calling himself a farmer and neatly swindling agricultural land), I feel too humbled to flaunt my creativity.

I was thinking I should write about the creative uses of Helmet for two wheeler riders in Tamilnadu, after Kalaignar requested his police men to take it easy with the rule. In a state where rules are changed as fast as ICC coach, I thought I would wait and watch, just to sum up all the news and then write a blog about it.

I even thought of doing the most right thing of today- to write about is Sivaji, the boss. Having seen the movie with the total cost of entertainment of 600 bucks, at 7 AM on a sunday morning, I decide not to rub it into myself again by re-living the experience (of playing into the prank that is Sivaji).

With more interesting things like honeymoon planning and absolutely unbelievable retail revolution finally coming to my use (I heard there is a category called honeymoon lingerie), I decide to take blogging a little easy.

I will write again. Till then follow the news of presidential elections.They may even announce your name as consensus candidate!

Tips for marriage

Men! Like me, one day, you will also decide to get married. Ok I am making it sound as though I was in control with the decision. I wasn't. So...

Men ! One day you will hear that you are getting married and a meeting with the girl will be organized. When it happens, between then and engagement there are some do's, dont's, have's and have nots.

1. You call her first, even if its STD and you are in pre-paid. I am not trying to make you sound courteous. I know we men abhor pretence. The idea of you making a call is, you will always feel the heat to cut the call before charge runs out. Less face time with women!
2. Always suggest places for the first meeting. Dont let her decide. No its not about chivalry. You know where your ex- girl friends dont come. Its better to avoid the unwanted, embarassing hugs from ex-sunitha, ex-priya!
3. Always make her sit first and offer to set up the chair for her. After all this way you can get the entire view of the place, if in case, this discussion gets boring
4. Order what she likes and not what you like....so that you can concentrate on better things when she is at her favorite ice cream
5. Pay the bills. Its both courtesy and also empirical evidence that women dont carry purse when men are around. Your prospect will be no different!
6. Dont kiss her.She would have come with lot of revlon base on her cheeks. You dont want allergy, do you? Same applies for smooch. But always say you show restraint becuase you are a decent man!
7. Buy her a lot of perfume. She may think you love her loads. I know, it might be true and also what's untold is that even in love we dont tolerate the smell of rotten onions.
8. Talk tall about her family lineage. Even if its hopless wife-beating, husband-cheating family, you are going to be a part of it. So its wise to say good things and console yourself in private that self depriciating jokes are good stress busters.
9. Never lie. I know it contradicts all the above tips. If its not possible, tell your lies with straight face. It makes sense for the future. Imagine you come home after an onsite trip where tried some caucasian experiments after dark and your wife asks about your nights there without her. You can say "Oh I was listening to Newyork Nagaram Urangum Neram" song in ipod. She will be in your arms already. Well after the caucasian experiment, this falling in arms of a fat Indian wife may not excite you. But hey, this is what you asked for when you decided to get marry!

Disclaimer: If you cant religiously do all of these, there is a simple tip. Starting loving your fiancee! Everything else falls in place without you working for it.

Did I hear the word "balancing act?", anybody?