Female libido just got a pop-a-pill solution. Pfizer, the pharmaceutical giant that saved mankind (well almost) with Viagra, will soon be launching its female counterpart, the yet unnamed UK-414495. Women all over the world will now be literally on top and why not? Why should men have all the fun!
Did you know Viagra was an accidental discovery by doctors looking to treat angina-pectoris, a heart condition (But haven’t we known all along where a man’s heart lies, whoever said it was the stomach was a big fat liar). So Big-V fortunately or unfortunately was much like Columbus’s stumbling upon America on a voyage to discover India. History repeats itself and how!
Researchers have suggested that Viagra is a noble discovery which has inadvertently proved to be a boon for endangered species (no, not the witty, intelligent kind). Research at the University of Alaska and University of Wales reveals that trade in exotic body parts used as aphrodisiacs has fallen dramatically since Viagra hit the market. Rhinos love it and can now flaunt their horns without a care in the world. Reindeers feel more secure about their antlers and fewer goats are walking the roads with their legs crossed!
Friday, April 30, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
April Full
An Icelandic volcano simmered and spewed ash bringing the world to a grinding halt. But the name, Eyjafjallajokull gave greater stress to us. People choked on their coffee, their tongues got twisted, all in an attempt to pronounce an unpronounceable name. A name coined as if a 2 year old was given a free run on the keyboard!
Shifting tectonic plates can now take a well deserved rest. According to Sedighi, an Iranian cleric, “Women who dress immodestly are capable of increasing Earthquakes”. And women in cleavage baring dresses managed to do just that. On “Boobquake Day” femmes let loose a rumble they had not bargained for. In a comedy of coincidences, an earthquake measuring 6.5 on the Richter scale shook up Taiwan, even as Jennifer McCreight spearheaded a “full frontal” campaign against the Iranian cleric.
The Shoa-nia saga kept the nation enthralled with its day-to-day exciting developments fuelled by a mystery lady. The woman turned out to be Shoaib’s first wife. So excited was Shoaib about his impending marriage to Sania, the poster girl of Indian tennis, that he conveniently forgot the presence of his larger than life telephone begum and confused her with his “Aapaa”. He claimed ignorance, feigned memory loss and made a miraculous recovery when the truth threatened to spill over. Barely had we recovered from this hullabaloo, Modi tweeted and triggered an IPL slugfest. A public spat that snowballed into a scandal revealing bigger players, personal liaisons casting doubts over transparency and accountability of the league itself. A mint fresh minister resigned and a witch hunt is on to finish Modi once and for all. But with Modi behaving like Rajnikanth on steroids he’s unlikely to go down easily. Moral of the story? Think twice before you tweet.
Shifting tectonic plates can now take a well deserved rest. According to Sedighi, an Iranian cleric, “Women who dress immodestly are capable of increasing Earthquakes”. And women in cleavage baring dresses managed to do just that. On “Boobquake Day” femmes let loose a rumble they had not bargained for. In a comedy of coincidences, an earthquake measuring 6.5 on the Richter scale shook up Taiwan, even as Jennifer McCreight spearheaded a “full frontal” campaign against the Iranian cleric.
The Shoa-nia saga kept the nation enthralled with its day-to-day exciting developments fuelled by a mystery lady. The woman turned out to be Shoaib’s first wife. So excited was Shoaib about his impending marriage to Sania, the poster girl of Indian tennis, that he conveniently forgot the presence of his larger than life telephone begum and confused her with his “Aapaa”. He claimed ignorance, feigned memory loss and made a miraculous recovery when the truth threatened to spill over. Barely had we recovered from this hullabaloo, Modi tweeted and triggered an IPL slugfest. A public spat that snowballed into a scandal revealing bigger players, personal liaisons casting doubts over transparency and accountability of the league itself. A mint fresh minister resigned and a witch hunt is on to finish Modi once and for all. But with Modi behaving like Rajnikanth on steroids he’s unlikely to go down easily. Moral of the story? Think twice before you tweet.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Patelgiri
I am filing for adoption of Praful Patel . Sure, he’s too old to adopt, but I can always pester him to adopt me instead. Purba Patel doesn’t sound too bad, does it?
It pays to be a Patel and how. Not only do you get freebies, joyrides and upgrades to first class in Air India; you get to hobnob with the likes of Vijay Mallya and have a private jet ferry you to Phuket, free of cost!
Wait, it doesn’t stop here. You also get to treat the National Carrier as your Daddy’s private garage. The Maharaja can bleed to the point of collapse, suffer massive losses, employees be asked to take pay cuts but I will have no qualms in getting a scheduled flight cancelled and use it as a private jet to ferry IPL players. Trivialities like inconvenience caused to hapless passengers on a confirmed Delhi-Coimbatore flight is not my headache.
It pays to be a Patel and how. Not only do you get freebies, joyrides and upgrades to first class in Air India; you get to hobnob with the likes of Vijay Mallya and have a private jet ferry you to Phuket, free of cost!
Wait, it doesn’t stop here. You also get to treat the National Carrier as your Daddy’s private garage. The Maharaja can bleed to the point of collapse, suffer massive losses, employees be asked to take pay cuts but I will have no qualms in getting a scheduled flight cancelled and use it as a private jet to ferry IPL players. Trivialities like inconvenience caused to hapless passengers on a confirmed Delhi-Coimbatore flight is not my headache.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Weighty Issues
“Do you think I need to lose more weight?” asks this near anorexic lady at the gym. My jaws nearly dropped to the floor. But at moments such as these, I become incredibly profound. No woman is content with what she has, each one of us wishes for a little more of that and a little less of this, I replied with a Zen-like expression. Ask me, I know, I have been a lifetime member of this club.
Weight petrifies me, especially if it threatens to come anywhere in the vicinity of my petite frame. I am fitness fixated and I have no qualms admitting it. With age my regime has become more severe. Each time someone compliments me on my well-maintained self (I hate that term, makes me feel like a vintage car), I mentally start charting a newer even better fitness plan. I can’t afford to put on weight now!
We women are our greatest critics. At gatherings, most of us love greeting each other with weight updates. Have you put on? As if the lady doesn’t have a weighing scale, looking glass or a husband at home. But then husbands/boyfriends are programmed to say, “No honey your posterior looks just fine in that little black dress”, even if you look like an out of breath orange.
Weight petrifies me, especially if it threatens to come anywhere in the vicinity of my petite frame. I am fitness fixated and I have no qualms admitting it. With age my regime has become more severe. Each time someone compliments me on my well-maintained self (I hate that term, makes me feel like a vintage car), I mentally start charting a newer even better fitness plan. I can’t afford to put on weight now!
We women are our greatest critics. At gatherings, most of us love greeting each other with weight updates. Have you put on? As if the lady doesn’t have a weighing scale, looking glass or a husband at home. But then husbands/boyfriends are programmed to say, “No honey your posterior looks just fine in that little black dress”, even if you look like an out of breath orange.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
IPL (Indian Political Labyrinth)
A friend’s tweet “Thoo Thoo Tharoor” got me thinking. A weeklong of this blockbuster of a drama, featuring two powerful men and a woman: does it have a typical hero and villain? But then there is nothing typical in this IPL tamasha that has held the nation in its thrall so completely that we ignored Pankaj Advani’s historic hat-trick win at the Asian Billiards Championship.
It all started with a tweet about a minister’s role in procuring a team, by Him with a dubious past, extraordinary enterprise and a motor-propelled mouth - IPL commissioner Lalit Modi. At the receiving end was our uber savvy minister of state for external affairs Shashi Tharoor and his stunning escort Sunanda Push-kar. It was alleged that Pushkar’s 75 crore equity holding in the consortium was actually a kickback to our honourable minister.
LSD (Lalit Shashi Aur Dhoka) was undoubtedly the most thrilling IPL match of the season. A public spat which snowballed into a scandal revealing bigger players, personal liaisons, casting doubts over the transparency and accountability of the league itself. We also learnt that equity could be free or sweaty. But does it really matter when it’s a whopping 75 crores.
It all started with a tweet about a minister’s role in procuring a team, by Him with a dubious past, extraordinary enterprise and a motor-propelled mouth - IPL commissioner Lalit Modi. At the receiving end was our uber savvy minister of state for external affairs Shashi Tharoor and his stunning escort Sunanda Push-kar. It was alleged that Pushkar’s 75 crore equity holding in the consortium was actually a kickback to our honourable minister.
LSD (Lalit Shashi Aur Dhoka) was undoubtedly the most thrilling IPL match of the season. A public spat which snowballed into a scandal revealing bigger players, personal liaisons, casting doubts over the transparency and accountability of the league itself. We also learnt that equity could be free or sweaty. But does it really matter when it’s a whopping 75 crores.
Friday, April 16, 2010
A Well Connected Generation
Lady Gaga released her new music video “Telephone”. When the lady decides to sing, you thank “You- Tube”, promptly download her video and contribute to the one million hits she gets. For the faint-hearted there’s always an “official clean version available”.
Long, long ago the telephone was used to, well... just talk. The invention of this device is mired in controversy and a confusing collection of claims and counter claims. When we were young, life was simple. We were told Graham Bell invented the telephone, we didn’t question it. The closest we came to a controversy was Marconi and his radio (it is alleged that our own Jagdish Bose invented the radio but was too lazy to go and file a patent). We now have Google and a million idle scholars. We are no longer sure of anything in this world.
Long, long ago the telephone was used to, well... just talk. The invention of this device is mired in controversy and a confusing collection of claims and counter claims. When we were young, life was simple. We were told Graham Bell invented the telephone, we didn’t question it. The closest we came to a controversy was Marconi and his radio (it is alleged that our own Jagdish Bose invented the radio but was too lazy to go and file a patent). We now have Google and a million idle scholars. We are no longer sure of anything in this world.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Living On A High
We shifted to Gurgaon from Delhi six years back into a high rise apartment. When you are staying in the capital, the 4th floor is the highest you go. The city doesn’t boast of too many apartment complexes besides the ones built by DDA (Delhi Development Authority). DDA since its inception in 1957 has been ceaselessly building unimaginative flats in tiresome yellows or pinks. Unfortunately the escalating real estate price makes this one of the few viable options for many a Delhite.
The husband even in his penniless stage was very sure that he will never buy one of those staid flats. Gurgaon with its promise of high end living and picturesque complexes beckoned to us. So when it was finally time to buy our own nest we happily settled for the Millennium city. The artistic impressions of our complex circulated by our builder had me excited and I couldn’t stop gushing about it to my friends. We had booked a condo on the 7th floor. I got a lot of positive feedback on the pleasures of staying up north; a mosquito free, dust free existence, cool breezy evenings and amazing 360 degree views. I was in “seventh heaven”. Only one of my friends expressed a grave concern, what happens if there’s an earthquake? We may die a crushing death, but at least we’ll have fewer floors on our head, the husband had retorted.
We finally shifted to our own pad. The views were stunning, the rain never looked better. Having a cup of tea in our balcony to the sounds of birds with the soft breeze caressing our face was sheer bliss.
I was sporting a new look, the windswept look. Our complex for some mysterious reason is extremely windy. Initially it was charming; the constant tinkling of wind chimes, having to hold on to your dress for your dear life. But imagine hot, sultry, 42 degree Celsius afternoons to the sounds of whoo whoo and constant rattling of windows! It was eerie and depressing. And when it’s summers can ACs be far behind? 16 ACs (one for each floor) dripping water on top of each other in unison is definitely not music for the ears especially when you are trying to sleep after a hard day’s work. Two years back we installed split ACs and finally put an end to our agony. The installation process on the other hand was one horrific story, fodder for another post perhaps?
The husband even in his penniless stage was very sure that he will never buy one of those staid flats. Gurgaon with its promise of high end living and picturesque complexes beckoned to us. So when it was finally time to buy our own nest we happily settled for the Millennium city. The artistic impressions of our complex circulated by our builder had me excited and I couldn’t stop gushing about it to my friends. We had booked a condo on the 7th floor. I got a lot of positive feedback on the pleasures of staying up north; a mosquito free, dust free existence, cool breezy evenings and amazing 360 degree views. I was in “seventh heaven”. Only one of my friends expressed a grave concern, what happens if there’s an earthquake? We may die a crushing death, but at least we’ll have fewer floors on our head, the husband had retorted.
We finally shifted to our own pad. The views were stunning, the rain never looked better. Having a cup of tea in our balcony to the sounds of birds with the soft breeze caressing our face was sheer bliss.
I was sporting a new look, the windswept look. Our complex for some mysterious reason is extremely windy. Initially it was charming; the constant tinkling of wind chimes, having to hold on to your dress for your dear life. But imagine hot, sultry, 42 degree Celsius afternoons to the sounds of whoo whoo and constant rattling of windows! It was eerie and depressing. And when it’s summers can ACs be far behind? 16 ACs (one for each floor) dripping water on top of each other in unison is definitely not music for the ears especially when you are trying to sleep after a hard day’s work. Two years back we installed split ACs and finally put an end to our agony. The installation process on the other hand was one horrific story, fodder for another post perhaps?
Friday, April 9, 2010
Are we an English obsessed nation?
The two largest English speaking countries in the world are India (350 million) and United States (300 million). In the next decade more than half of the English speaking population on Earth will be Indians. We will determine how the language will be spoken. Feels good, but I have a question – will Mamata Banerjee’s spoken words qualify as English too? She could be speaking in Hindi, Bangla or English – to me it comes across as a strange, uniform version of Esperanto.
A recent survey has officially established the Queen’s language as India’s lingua franca. That comes as no surprise. We as a nation still suffer from a massive colonial hangover. In school we are essentially taught British. Mushrooming BPO s promote the Yankee version. Our children end up speaking a bastardized version. Texting has made it worse. Address is now addy, afternoon afty, vacation vacays...kids are playing around with the language, which may not be such a bad thing. Why waste time on silly things such as spellings and sentences? It’s so not cool.
The non-NextGen Indians on the other hand love their English, more than even the English. Nowhere in the world are people so particular about diction and grammar. Maybe it represents much more than just being particular. How one holds forth in English often reflects schooling, social background. Pepper your conversation with a few tricky words and you are qualified to fit into certain elitist circles. A rather superficial way of slotting people, yet most of us succumb to it.
The world over, English spoken with a foreign accent is considered exotic. Did any one of us snigger at Penelope’s Oscar acceptance speech? But dare anyone in our country say yem yen square, we make that person the butt of our jokes for the rest of his unfortunate life. We are a lot more tolerant of incorrect Hindi.
A recent survey has officially established the Queen’s language as India’s lingua franca. That comes as no surprise. We as a nation still suffer from a massive colonial hangover. In school we are essentially taught British. Mushrooming BPO s promote the Yankee version. Our children end up speaking a bastardized version. Texting has made it worse. Address is now addy, afternoon afty, vacation vacays...kids are playing around with the language, which may not be such a bad thing. Why waste time on silly things such as spellings and sentences? It’s so not cool.
The non-NextGen Indians on the other hand love their English, more than even the English. Nowhere in the world are people so particular about diction and grammar. Maybe it represents much more than just being particular. How one holds forth in English often reflects schooling, social background. Pepper your conversation with a few tricky words and you are qualified to fit into certain elitist circles. A rather superficial way of slotting people, yet most of us succumb to it.
The world over, English spoken with a foreign accent is considered exotic. Did any one of us snigger at Penelope’s Oscar acceptance speech? But dare anyone in our country say yem yen square, we make that person the butt of our jokes for the rest of his unfortunate life. We are a lot more tolerant of incorrect Hindi.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
550 Days Of Summer
The sinking feeling starts towards the end of February; just when the season ending sales start. Don’t get me wrong. I love sales and love stocking up on stuff I won’t need for another eight months. The chill in the air starts waning, the sweaters come off and you discover you have acquired an extra tyre (damn those sinful pralines). The final nail in the coffin is Holi. Spring makes a blink- and- you- -will- miss appearance and sooner than you can let out an anguished aah, you are face to face with the longest, harshest season of the year, summers.
Whoever sang “Those were the lazy, hazy, crazy days of summers” was not an Indian and definitely not a Delhite (actually it was Nat King Cole). The season makes you lazy and robs you of a social life. The sun is out, bright and shining 6.30 in the morning, the afternoon heat is scorching and the evenings are no better. You sweat, you curse. The humidity makes it worse, it saps you of energy, makes your tresses look like Jimmy Hendrix on a bad hair day and your face like an oil smeared pan. (Imagine Mamata Banerjee on an election campaign).
Granted, you get to wear pleasing summery dresses. It’s a nice excuse to shop, check out the new season collection. Your limbs are out for airing. As long as you are in air conditioned environs, it’s manageable. Try an open air rendezvous. It’s a lost battle. Within minutes you manage sweaty patches on your pristine white outfit and your face starts looking like an overheated tomato. You look hot, but of a different kind.
Whoever sang “Those were the lazy, hazy, crazy days of summers” was not an Indian and definitely not a Delhite (actually it was Nat King Cole). The season makes you lazy and robs you of a social life. The sun is out, bright and shining 6.30 in the morning, the afternoon heat is scorching and the evenings are no better. You sweat, you curse. The humidity makes it worse, it saps you of energy, makes your tresses look like Jimmy Hendrix on a bad hair day and your face like an oil smeared pan. (Imagine Mamata Banerjee on an election campaign).
Granted, you get to wear pleasing summery dresses. It’s a nice excuse to shop, check out the new season collection. Your limbs are out for airing. As long as you are in air conditioned environs, it’s manageable. Try an open air rendezvous. It’s a lost battle. Within minutes you manage sweaty patches on your pristine white outfit and your face starts looking like an overheated tomato. You look hot, but of a different kind.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
An Egg-alitarian Society
Young women take to selling eggs. On a leisurely Sunday, sipping my morning cuppa, this headline grabbed my eyeballs. Selling for as high as 50 grand! Where, when, how, can I too? I was all agog until I finished the entire sentence (Patience is not a virtue that I possess). Women are now selling their own eggs and the moolah depends on their looks and qualifications.
Ok, now I am too old to make a killing vending my eggs. But what a colossal waste of years I spent slogging, stressing and ranting over a job when I could have simply shed my inhibitions and eggs and led a carefree life.
Will people be now shopping for eggs, albeit of a different kind? One egg please, 5.6 ish, fair, convent educated, with an IQ higher than 120. Or can I have a homely egg, with creative inclinations. Imagine a world where eggs are tailor made to perfection and a happily ever after future with a genius of a baby.
Ok, now I am too old to make a killing vending my eggs. But what a colossal waste of years I spent slogging, stressing and ranting over a job when I could have simply shed my inhibitions and eggs and led a carefree life.
Will people be now shopping for eggs, albeit of a different kind? One egg please, 5.6 ish, fair, convent educated, with an IQ higher than 120. Or can I have a homely egg, with creative inclinations. Imagine a world where eggs are tailor made to perfection and a happily ever after future with a genius of a baby.
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