Aditya Kulkarni

Himachal

Aditya — Sun, 16 May 2010 13:50:25 +0000

Nights in Himachal are pitch dark, not even the smallest ray from a 0 watt bulb. That sort of darkness always puts the imagination in fast forward and you start thinking of boogie monsters, giant brain sucking wombats and most horrible of all, a woman ghost. I am ill prejudiced towards the female gender of that particular community mostly because of the horrible make-up, creepy high pitched wails and the zocked out looks, their long hair flying in the moonlight is just about enough to freeze a fellow with a weak heart.

We were expecting some furniture late at night, and were up late debating about the magical powers of evil spirits and their irritating habit of getting photographed and giving us humans the goosebumps. The furniture arrived after midnight and being the strong, young and genX fellows that we were, volunteered to haul it all in. Our chappals were near the courtyard door and we suddenly realized that we had to pass one of those pitch black corridors to get to the other side. We huddled together like Charlie’s Angels and slowly began feeling our way towards the sliver of light on the other end. Around half way forward, we heard a strange scratching and quite suddenly, a gurgle and loud barks.

Three screams pierced the peaceful air and abandoning all pretence, we bolted towards the start, pushing anyone who was unlucky enough to be in our direct path to the side and towards the front yard which was endowed with bright yellow halogens and kept screaming our lungs out. The lights were switched on in the neighbouring homes and everyone started giving us the confused look, wondering the reason for our banshee like yelling and the crazy barking of the pet dog.

Space Beer

Aditya — Tue, 05 Jan 2010 17:02:12 +0000

Jeeez, they are selling space beer now for around $115…For those of you not in the know, it’s brewed from barley grown in space. I consider it my duty and responsibility to forewarn you people about the evil plan being hatched here.

The barley was grown in space and the mad, evil Russian and Japanese scientists exposed it to floating space microbes. These microbes (i’ll call ‘em mikeys) were thrown in space by a dying planet gone kaput. During this whole time, they have perfected the art of breeding and rapid evolution. According to my detailed and in-depth analysis, each grain of the ‘space barley’ has at least 1 baba mikey and 1, ummmm….babi mikey who have waited millions of years for a oxy-co2 rich planet and favourable conditions to regenerate their populace.

Once a person drinks the beer, the mikeys are gonna breed and evolve and breed and evolve and first eat up that person from the inside. Then they’re gonna wrap their bodies real tight and use the human skin to go shopping in big bazaar and D-mart (like those aliens in MIB). Finally, they will assemble an army of evil blood sucking wackos and start the war in their quest for world domination!!

Coke and Mentos

Aditya — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 15:08:59 +0000

My version:
I was walking around the inside of Vashi station with friends. We bought tickets and headed towards the track. I wasn’t hungry so I had a ‘fountain coke’ while the others ate. I was addicted to chewing gum and used to ruminate like a cow all day long. I put a mentos in my mouth and began churning.

All of a sudden, I couldn’t draw breath and started choking. My brain started to have this burning sensation which I couldn’t get rid of. I spat out the mentos. It’s funny what dying can do to you, even thinking about it changes your perception towards life and all the wonderful things that come with it. I thought I was gonna die, but didn’t want to end my life as a goldfish gasping for breath. So I started hitting myself in the back to dislodge whatever it was that was blocking my air pipe. I could see a bunch of people surrounding me, but no one came forward to help.

A fellow was running at full speed to catch some train. As he was the nearest, I decided to ask for help. I caught him with my hand to stop him running. Turns out, he was pretty determined to board the incoming train, so he somehow got out of my grasp and went away. I was scared as a chicken, but still kept hitting myself. Finally, I managed to dislodge the thing in my wind pipe because I could breath again!

Their version(s):
We were walking towards the exit on the railway station when suddenly, Adi started making weird, retching sounds.

“Screwing around, as always…”

Then he started hitting himself and doing this scary dance which scared the shit outta me.

“A ghost has possessed Adi!! Shit maaan, first time in my life…first time…”

I was numb, scared and confused and didn’t know the spell to cast away evil spirits.

“First thing that am gonna do after this is go to a tantrik and learn that friggin’ spell! okok, concentrate…”

What happened next was beyond my imagination. Adi held some poor guy by his neck and began squeezing it hard. “Jai hanuman gyangun sagar, jai kapish…”

We tried pulling him away but the ghost was strong and wouldn’t let go. We finally managed to pry them apart. The fellow was scared as hell and he made a dash for it, as far and as fast as his shaky little legs would allow.

“Holy cow, he’s hitting himself again! Do I call the Ambulance? Mental Hospital?? Tantrik? Nooono, the first thing would be to catch him before he reaches for anyone else’s neck…yeah I know how it’s done, they do it on animal planet all the time…”

We surrounded him from all sides, grabbed his head so he wouldn’t bite, then brought him face down on the floor and pinned him wwf style!! We finally managed to subdue him by sloshing lots of water and swearing loudly at the ghost in between bouts of violent thrashing, until it left.

Moral: Coke and Mentos combo, baaaad idea! But if done right, it can turn out to be deadly, untraceable and a downright awesome weapon against your arch enemies…

Mumbai Local

Aditya — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 06:01:26 +0000

My first real experience of the ‘Mumbai Local’ was travelling with my brother to Chembur some years ago. While coming back when the train arrived at Vashi, I was half asleep and at the door, waiting to alight. Da said “chal, we get down here”, so I did. I stepped out, but evidently forgot to notice that the train was still moving. I remember rolling over quite a few times, and when I had finally stopped, everything around was still shaking. The shocked and confounded expression of Dada’s face was something to look at. I got away with a fractured hand, and Da carried around that harrowed expression for the next couple of days.

I spent my college years travelling on a bike, so my first week at Wcities was a real eye-opener. I noticed that the only difference between the first and second class is the occasional waft of deodarant instead of sweat. The level of gossiping and bitching is certainly on par with the women’s compartment, if not more. For the first few days, I had to stop and ask at least a dozen people before taking any overbridge or boarding a train, more so owing to my confusion over similar sounding names like Govandi-Bhivandi and Gurgaon-Girgaon-Goregaon.

It’s also pretty irksome to have a window seat. The once on, once off strategy played by the rain means that I have to open, shut, then again open the window for the whole route. To avoid that, I put on my earphones and play dead i.e. act as if I am fast asleep, with sound effects. And it works most of the time…Hell Yeah! Being a regular commuter now, I have also developed a seventh sense, which is the art of gaining a place to sit in a crowded train. It basically involves the following 4 skills:

1) Observation: As soon as you enter the compartment, pick a corner where the probability of people getting off at the next few stations is high. This takes around a week’s practice but in the end, it’s all worth it.
2) Judgement: Observe and deeply study the body language of the people sitting. They tend to get a little shifty before getting up, maybe because they had worked hard to sit down in the first place. Also, they either start looking for their bags or an empty gap between the crowd, big enough to slip through.
3) Persuasion: Once your target is locked, stare at the person shamelessly and persistently until he/she relents and gets up.
4) Reflexes: Quickly step up and try to wiggle into the half empty space. Never wait for the fellow to stand fully as you may lose the opportunity to a more enterprising person.

In case of an argument, some people are really hesitant to throw punches and get into a fight, so to protect their honour, they get into a duel and start verbally abusing each other until one of them gives up or alights at a station. The other fellow is then the clear winner and begins ranting about his karate skills (relieved that it didn’t end up as fight club). But occasionally, you do get catfights which keep the whole compartment entertained for a good 15-20 minutes. Last week, a fight broke out at Kurla because one fellow accidentally poked the other in the face while boarding. I found that particularly funny becuase Kurla reminds me of stampeding cattle and there’s no way you can get in the train doing gentlemangiri. The fight calmed down, but not before one guy slapped the other in the face. After 10 minutes of calm silence, the other guy realized that he had been slapped, so he jerked his head, gave a loud hysteric war cry and charged like an angry bull. He was restrained by the others, but still kept shouting at the top of his lungs and finally, the Railway Police had to intervene to sort it out. Now that’s definitely better than reality TV.

Nowadays, I occasionally jump out of a moving train without fracturing my body parts. Travelling by the ‘Mumbai local’…it’s fast, it’s fun and highly addictive, once you get used to the brazen madness.

Career choices

Aditya — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 14:38:38 +0000

The current employment opportunities got me thinking of alternative career choices. The two listed here are challenging, have tremendous revenue potential and scope to grow into something much bigger than I can imagine…

Production and Manufacturing:
Rabbit cultivation seems like a nice money spinning venture. Come to think of it, I’ve even heard of the term ‘breeding like rabbits’, so supply of the meat should not be an issue. They don’t do much except hop around eating food (grass mostly, haven’t come across the non-vegetarian types yet) and pooping all over the place. Yet, they have an amazing self-defence mechanism. They don’t put up much of a fight but rather give you the ohh-cho-chweet, cute look which melts the heart of the predator straight away. It would be more gratifying if they were a wee bit bigger with evil eyes and sharp nails that could tear you open if you tried to get near them, a devilish tail, large crocodile teeth or better, venomous fangs…and a wicked grin to go along. It wouldn’t be so danged hard to kill the creature then. Guess I would need to hire a sadistic fellow seeking revenge for his allergy to bunny fur to do the dirty work. And the manufacturing part? Purses, soft toys, shawls…you name it!

Organized Sector:
Although facing stiff competition from begging syndicates, am still hoping to earn some respectable revenue from this one. BAI (Beggar’s Association of India) will have branches all over the country (no reference to Mr. Shiney Ahuja, no pun intended). A city like Mumbai easily has around 500 traffic signals (people give alms to feel good about themselves here), 20 railway stations (here, people are in a hurry and don’t pay much attention to what they are shelling out) and 1 airport (lots of firangs and sentimental NRI’s, will earn in dollars) where a constant income can be guaranteed. It has the potential to make around Rs. 51,500 per day or Rs. 15,45,000 per month. Heck, am gonna be super rich by the time this becomes a national level organization. I could then start my own college (BAI college of engineering and varied arts) or a university even! And it will be like a hands-on MBA that will get me competing with the likes of Warren Buffett and Bill Gates …

Dinner in Belapur

Aditya — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 09:44:01 +0000

Since we (me, RK, Kunal and Gaurav) had nothing better to do, we roamed around in circles in Vashi. Then someone suggested a place in Belapur where you can get all the chicken and drinks you want for less than 150 rupees. Kunal had his Activa but no license…and RK had a license, but no bike. Common sense prevailed and it was unanimously decided that RK would drive the moped and I would drive the bike. Gaurav and me were trailing behind the activa, the logic being that if the ‘pandu’ pulls them over for not wearing a helmet, then we could zoom past and act as if we didn’t recognize the offenders, or just take a swift U-turn. Kunal was mesmerizing the traffic with his performance…yawning and stretching as if he had just woken up from a long night’s sleep, then showing RK the real estate on the side of the road, stretching his arms left, right, then left again, to hell with the cars behind who were honking crazily and dancing all across the road to his weird orchestra like conducting…

Everything intact, we finally reached the place. Riya Sen was dancing to some song, so we sat in front of the TV. I guess the waiter thought of us as some lukkhas, as we were the only ones wearing three-fourths and looked lost (engineering does that to a person). For some time, we stared at the right hand side of the menu, then decided that starters would suffice for dinner. The waiter recommended some weird sounding dish for starters, said it would be perfect for four, so we agreed. After much debate and speculation, integration and derivation, we concluded that they were gonna bill us 500-600, minimum. We checked our pockets and pooled, but it didn’t add up to that much. Uhh-OH!! Then began a plot, so daring and complex that it would’ve put George Bush to shame. We would ask for the washroom and leave one by one. At the end, that would leave Gaurav at the table as he sat blocked on one side by the wall, and on the other by Kunal. After much shouting, mostly from Gaurav, we decided to stay, feel the spirit of adventure and get beaten up together…After a reeally long time, the starters arrived. Dang, it looked like a puppy dog had been cut, roasted, burnt up and served. I complained to the waiter, but he didn’t pay heed (RK and Kunal eating the stuff with relish didn’t put much weight to my argument). We then forced him to eat a piece of the pup…still nothing! We then got up to talk to the manager, but the waiter blocked the door and said the manager was on leave. We made our way down and complained to the fellow on the desk…the pup was brought down and everything went smooth after that (not so much for the waiter though)…Yikes!! We just got off getting beaten up by the restaurant goondas and washing dishes…

Moral(s) of the story:
1) Vada pav or Sev puri tastes better than a half-roasted pup.
2) You can always get some decent chicken without leaving Vashi or burning a hole in your wallet.
3) People contributing outrageous suggestions (like chicken and drinks for less than 150 rupees) should be kicked, and have vile stuff thrown at them…

O Sweet Girl

Aditya — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 07:56:57 +0000


You look like an angel, you look like a star

Crap! Think I've gone too far...

You visit my dreams, eat crabs and mice

Whee..woo...now ain't that nice!
Far in the city, deep down the drain

It's that time of the year, again

When you drink n fall into the watery sludge

You guessed it right, I had a grudge...
Talk to me, of the night we met

When I'd come over and bit ur pet

None cud've guessed wht happened then

Ooh my, the dog held a pen!
And now as I sleep writing this absurd song

Think of you, all night long

You visit my dreams, now dressed as a witch

And your pet still talks of the next door bitch!

Swine Flu – A poem

Aditya — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 17:26:58 +0000

Swine’s coming at your place
Dude, better give chase
Keep running from the pinky pork
Or take revenge, bring out your forks

All you folks out there, beware
Of the ruddy, jolly things we share
A mutant strain of chicken flu
Oh horrors! the things it’ll do to u…

Eyes pop out, your blood goes black
It’s time to hit the sack
Never before was it so bad
Not eating pork makes me sad

And now the world’s at an end
Near n far, dying’s a trend
Gonna make humanity pass out cold
And the chicks n porks are gonna rule da world…

IPL match

Aditya — Sat, 13 Jun 2009 08:05:52 +0000

I went to the stadium with RK, Mohit and the rest. They were all super excited to see the inagural match between Mumbai Indians and Delhi Daredevils and had tagged me along. I wanted nothing more than to eat some chicken and sleep for 6 hours straight.

A crowd was gathering at the entrance gate. Mohit and RK were discussing excitedly (abe Tendulkar buddha ho gaya hai ab…Mumbai Indians should’ve got Dhoni instead). Think they were expecting a fight (with chariots and horses, swords and half-a body armour, like they used to do in ancient Rome). People were blabbering all over and I was still longing for my chicken…

We got through the security checks and voila, the great colloseum! We got the teeny-weeny burgers and the overpriced water, then headed for our seats. Yay! The cheerleaders were exactly in front of us…Lucky lalit modi came up with that one brilliant idea of importing firangi gals in the stadium. It gives a non-cricket guy like me some initiation into the game and helps generate interest.

Met Karthik and his RayBan there after a really long time. He was clapping, RK was cheering, Mohit was whistling, and I was trying veery very hard to figure out what the heck had just happened. Apparently, the tiny GI-Joe type figure in the middle was Ravi Shastri, examining the pitch. After that, it was all blurry…It was too difficult to find out who was bowling, who was batting and where the heck was the stupid white ball. Finally, I decided to follow the market trend, so I cheered with full enthu when Mohit whistled, clapped when Karthik started shouting and cried out foul words when RK swore. It was starting to get fun…We also started to form waves in the crowd, shouting and waving in equal measure. Then somebody shouted ‘we won’, so I jumped on the chairs. We started to tapori dance, wave and shout some more. And we had chicken biryani after that to celebrate the win…

Changing face of Indian news channels

Aditya — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 18:31:55 +0000

A hot chick looking directly at the camera and reporting the latest news with the utmost sincerity and dedication. Aah, those were the days…News channels tend to forget the very purpose of their existence these days. I think they get a kick in broadcasting useless stories with pathetic punchlines…and of course the extra moolah they earn for advertising helps. There was some actor making a milkshake on prime time. Then, there’s always the inventive India TV, showing THE God’s chappals, THE physical ‘Stairway to Heaven’ (not to be confused with Led Zepp) and THE blooming love between two chickens, grossly sensationalized.

The other day, I just wanted to see the if the AWACS had been inducted by IAF. It got frustrating when I started to browse all those channels. Most of them were happy to broadcast the same thing all day long. IBN7 was showing ‘Balika Vadhu’ and cribbing about how the girl got herself pregnant…and the sound effects didn’t help. Star News showed Kareena Kapoor at some event with a bold title ‘baccho ke saath kareena’…and the gal herself looking nowhere else but at the cameras the whole time. And CNN-IBN was showing 2 dudes dancing with pompoms…they just needed to wear skirts to be roped in for some gay horror flick. Am sure somewhere veeery very deep inside ‘Dos and Donts – TV Channel’s Guide to Broadcasting News’, it constitutes a gross violation of the law and our fundamental rights, amounting to ‘emotional atyachar’.