The pretty girl in the short skirt…

Ram was the perfect Casanova. In a span of five years, he had changed seven jobs, all for his habit of falling prey to good looking women. He just couldn't resist getting into flings and things got worse every time when his multiple affairs affected his professional life. Monday morning was another interview at a multinational company for the post of marketing manager.

Ram was hoping to make it big here…not in terms of work but for some sparks to fly, for his friends had told him the office was full of pretty girls. Ram was hoping to get lucky!

Dressed his best, topped with a dash of the perfume that made his ex girlfriends drool, Ram reached the company headquarters. As he entered the elevator, he saw the only companion in his ride to the 21st floor – a pretty girl! Her short skirt and long hair immediately shortlisted her to Ram’s to do list and he took it as a good omen. Not wasting any time, he threw his pick up line, “you too here for the marketing manager interview?” She gave him one top to down look, gave a sweet smile and said, “I work here…you will see me more when you join our department…” Ram quickly bragged about his premier B school degree and the last premier organization he worked with, not leaving any chance to strike the perfect first impression.

The elevator doors opened, and as she was about to get out she stopped, turned back and said, “turn right from the reception and the first conference room is your destination. All the best! We shall meet again!” Ram’s heart went racing and within a span of 30 seconds, his imagination took him to great lengths. He quickly raced past the reception and landed himself at the Waiting room near the conference room as told by the girl.

Ram was pleasantly surprised by the crowd waiting with him, for they all seemed less experienced than him. He couldn't find one face more charming and confident than himself, and he was all set to make the killing. For the next 30 minutes in the Waiting room, he was lost in dreams of the pretty girl. He imagined how he could ask her out for dinner and charm her with his ways once he got the job. Just then, a voice interrupted his dreams, “fill this form”, the fat HR lady said. As Ram took the form, he sensed something was not right, the form mentioned the question, “Why do you feel you are suitable to work as sales executive with us”. Shocked, he immediately questioned the HR lady, only to be told this was the interview for the post of sales executive.

Ram’s heart skipped a beat. He realized that this time, he had fallen prey to false charms. He should have inquired at the reception before blindly following the girl’s instructions. As he rushed towards the reception, he saw the same pretty lady talking to the receptionist and leaving before he could reach and question her. He asked the receptionist, “where is the interview for the position of marketing manager?” The receptionist said, “Conference room no. 5 but the interview is already over.” Ram was irritated now, “How can the interview be over?” The receptionist said, “Sir, there were just two candidates called for the interview. The first one didn't arrive and so the second one was shortlisted. You saw that lady who just left? She was just selected.”

Ram could feel his heart beating fast. All his plans of making it happen were foiled by the same pretty face he had been dreaming about. The ugly side of beauty had taken him for a ride…

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

From separation to jubilation

The last few days saw a very irritable and dead side of me. As if life had become a boring pendulum that oscillated between office and home. The mind went on an auto mode with this mundane routine. I didnt feel any zing when I woke up in the morning and the day didn’t offer anything to look forward to. Evenings too, became a routine affair. While my colleagues would be happy, calling a day off and discussing their evening plans, I would simply sit back and immerse myself in work.

Perhaps, all this was to escape the horror of staying away from my passion – blogging. Once a blogger, nothing gives you more joy than sharing your views with others and nothing gives more pain than an inactive blog and dipping page views.

My laptop, which was my window to the world of blogging, gave in to senile decay. Often, in the middle of blogs, the laptop would heat up and black out, making me pull my hair in frustration. I tried to blog through the tab, but old habits die hard and my fingers yearned for the keyboard. Every day, I would read blogs by fellow bloggers and wish when I would strike back. I almost stopped looking at blogging contests and book review offers, for better to make commitments when one can fulfill them. Movies and outings no longer seemed enticing, for I could no longer blog about my experiences.  After few days, the helpless mind too, stopped buzzing with ideas.

While I didn’t cry or crib, for I knew our busy schedules, Mr. Hubby noticed the frustration in my silence and this weekend, decided to take things in his own stride. He took the laptop to the service center and the technician gave it a fresh lease of life. When he surprised me in the evening with the news, I was all elated like a lover reunited with his lost love!

This morning became so special…

I woke up to a hyperactive mind, buzzing with ideas. It didn’t even wait for me to finish the bed tea or catch up with newspaper. Finally, I had to jot down the ideas which would fuel my blog for the days to come. When I saw my blog after so many days, it welcomed me with open arms and surprisingly, there was increase in page views too. They say it is separation that makes us realize the value of something, and this separation has been tough for me. But, it feels so good to be back since I can share my feelings, views and experiences once again on my blog, and connect with the awesome friends blogging has gifted me!

Five reasons why I miss Delhi Winters

Winters are here! Ironically, I ain’t feeling an inch of it sitting here in Mumbai. Its perhaps the first time in 3 decades of my existence that I am sitting on December 7, 2014 with fan on and no sweaters! In Delhi, I have always cribbed about winters, preferring to snuggle in my velvet rajai than to wake up on a chilly morning; the torture of taking that morning shower; it was the favourite season of maids when they would cash on their worth. So, now, away from the winters why am I missing the love hate relationship?

Here are my 5 reasons for missing Dilli ki sardi

1.    Weddings

Come winters and wedding invitations start pouring in. If it’s a family wedding, it makes for a double treat. Cousins gossiping overnight on the terrace while munching on mungphalis and gazzak, and pre wedding bashes in huge lawns with bonfires! We Dilliwallas like our weddings big, fat and truly dhinchaak! While summers make it tough to carry heavy makeup and costume, winters make it all easy. The style divas love to flaunt their deep cut and backless blouses despite the chill.  And for those, who still feel the chill, a peg of Black Dog and dancing non stop does the trick.

2.    Winter brunches

Sunday mornings become party time, with moms preparing yummy delicacies (sarson ka saag, make ki roti, bajre ki khichdi, tikkas etc.) and the whole family enjoying the fare on sunny mornings at the terrace. Food lovers also go gaga over the winter brunches offered by the city hotels. I particularly miss the winter brunch at the American Diner at India habitat Centre, Delhi.

3.    Lodhi garden

No matter how much we run away from the suraj chachu in summers, winters do the patch up act. Even the annoying dhoop becomes “Makhmali”. Being away from Delhi, I can vouch there is no experience better than spending a winter morning in Lodi Garden, the Central park of Dilli. Kids flock to the garden to enjoy their favourite spot, while lovebirds leave no opportunity of getting cosy; on a lucky day you might even spot a painter sitting on the grass depicting the nature on canvas. Amateur photographers satiate their lenses with views of various migratory birds, even local. Have often seen squirrels being bribed with peanuts to strike a pose! How can we forget food here? Every Sunday, you can spot umpteen brunch gatherings in the garden.

4.    Winter shopping and discounts

Weddings and winter sales give Dilliwalas enough reasons to stuff their shopping carts. With fests like the CP shopping festivals and the big spacious malls organizing exclusive events, shopping becomes a joyful experience. And when the newspapers announce the end of season sale, Dilliwallas flock to their favourite stores to steal bargain on their long desired winter overcoats.

5.    Barbeque evenings

Fun, food and friends sums up the idea of a perfect evening for any Dilliwalla. Winters give just the perfect excuse, and Dilliwallas love to flaunt their barbeque skills on evenings with ghazals and old pals!

It is said we realize the value of something only when we are away from it. While I have been told winters will show us a small trailer here in Mumbai, I am yearning to rush to my Dilli to savour the magic of Dilli Ki Sardi! 

What all do you love about Delhi winters? I am all ears..:)

The Ugly Truth

Pic Courtesy:Google Search

I looked at her she looked at me

She looked like a reflection of me

A reflection I detested for its existence

It was hard to cope with my heart’s resistance

She gave me a friendly smile
I had been ignoring her all this while

Thoughts of killing the common link came to me
But it was too late now, the result I could see

Last night could not be reversed

Why did I do it? My sorry self, I cursed

What was mine was no longer just mine.

Non stop sulking inside, I could no longer be fine

This was a face off, my heartbeat increased.

What if someone saw us together? The thought made me freeze

I got up to walk away, to bury the ghost of a wrong decision in the past.

Wanted to end the embarrassment fast.

Her look said the hatred was mutual, we finally came close 

She gave me a scan as if hating my existence, I just froze

She smiled and said "Same day! Same dress!"

"Ya, fashionista sale last night!" I said. My face got pink!

We women leave no opportunity to catch a good sale. We want to get the best bargain and at the same time, want to own the stuff no one else owns. What happens when we bump into someone equally intelligent, wearing the same outfit? This poem was written during the coffee break when I bumped into a girl who was equally embarrassed since we wore the same Kurtis and looked like twins!

Do you have a similar experience to share? Comments are welcome!

Room with a view

This Mumbai Mayanagri never leaves an opportunity to amuse me, be it for the simplest of things. You all will find the incident I share today really funny, especially if you are from the North.

Well, if I ask you what is the meaning of the hindi word “kamra”, what would your answer be…A room, right? You must be wondering I have lost it today!

Wrong answer if you are in Mumbai for here, "kamra" signifies a full flat! Can you believe it?

Even I couldn’t digest it the first few times I heard this rather funny usage.

The first time was when Mr. Hubby and I were on the lookout for a house. While we were clarifying our concerns of adequate water and power supply, security etc. our landlord suddenly mentioned, “Don’t worry, you will really like your Kamra!”

For a moment, I felt like the passenger who has been downgraded from business class to economy at the last moment and whispered to Mr. Hubby “What is he talking about? He thinks we will shell out this much money just for staying in one room?” Mr. Hubby then explained to me the Mumbai version of Kamra!

I was still not convinced. “It might be some old school of thought.” But my myth was broken as soon as we shifted to our house, for everybody from the milkman to the neighbors had the same reaction, “So you have shifted in KAMRA number …?” Always put off by their questions, I replied “Yes, FLAT number…”

And the usage is not just confined to verbal mention. I found several flats in my society mentioning “Kamra no. …”on their name plates!

We Dilliwallas are used to living king size, so a house is usually a kothi, a flat is a 2/3/4 bhk and a kamra usually indicates a single room. But here kothi becomes a bunglow, and flat straightaway gets downgraded to Kamra!

Anyway, I have undivided love for all the Kamras in my flat. But yes, I miss the spacious balconies, terraces and gardens Dilli has to offer.

No matter how much I may have cribbed about my city, the long distance relationship has its own charm, for distance deepens the bond of love. So my big city with a big heart, I miss you!

How to board an auto in Mumbai!

We Dilliwallas are famous for being rash and rowdy. Ask a Dilliwalla to stand in a queue and you are sure to invite an unpleasant conversation. I recall many instances of women calling each other names in Delhi metro just because one woman asked another to be in a line and the other asked her to mind her business. 

Though I am yet to experience the peak hours in Mumbai local trains, a recent instance made me familiar to the advantages of being patient in a queue.

Yesterday I was trying to board an auto near one of the local train stations. First things first, in Delhi we have rickshaw and autos. But in Mumbai, there are only autos, which Mumbaikars call Rickshaws. And if someone asks you if you came by Rick, don’t be surprised, for rick or rickshaw or auto are all the same! Now Mumbai autowallas are much different from the ones in Delhi (and unless I dedicate a separate post to them, I won’t be doing justice). As I tried to stop autos, none even bothered to slow down and even listen to where I wanted to go. Ignored and dejected, as I wondered and worried, my eyes fell on a long queue at the roadside. Some 15-20 people were standing in a queue like disciplined school kids waiting for school bus. Hullow, we weren’t even that disciplined as school kids and the moment bus used to come, we used to get into junglee mode!

Confused and curious, I thought of asking one of them, ‘’aakhir maajra kya hai’’ then my eyes fell on the umpteen autowallas that stopped near that line. So what did they have that autowallas stopped for them and not the others?

Eureka! In Mumbai, they have a line for boarding autos!!!

I looked at the auto and the last person in the queue who I had to join in case I wanted to be considered for auto. Being a rainy day, the size of the queue got me thinking. I have broken queues at several places in Dilli…my training ground being my school canteen and then the queue for college U Special. The rule is simple, survival of the fittest. But here, there wasn’t any scope of breaking queue. Unlike local trains, people maintained utter discipline and I didn’t want to come in the limelight as being an eager rule breaker!

So I went & stood in the long queue. The old uncle in front of me was a super friendly person and could make out from my looks that I was a newbie in the city. The tensed me was assured the line would move fast as most people going the same side share autos. He was right, for the line moved really fast, and soon I was in the front. As an auto came, the uncle smiled and said “Ricksha thaamba!”

I soon realized the advantage of these auto queues. The autos that stopped here didn’t refuse to commute on your desired destination. Discipline pays at times.

While Mumbaikars reading this are all smiles, my Dilliwaale bhai bandhu need not worry as my notion of discipline was wiped away clear the day I went to drive on the streets of Mumbai! Post coming soon… 

Letter to my smartphone

My Dear Smartphone,

It’s been 3 days since you went on that sick leave, and my life has come to a standstill. I wish I could rewind and edit the scene when you fell on the floor and broke your lovely shining screen – the beautiful 5” screen that meant so much to me. It was like a paralysis attack, you immediately stopped sensing any touch, although I know all my memories, emotions and must haves are still safe in your heart. After all, my relation with you is that of expression and perhaps that’s why the gap hurts so much.

But accidents in life come unannounced and change the dynamics of our existence. For sometime, I was in a state of shock and carried you everywhere normally since you are my constant companion. Do you know, immediately after you fell, everyone was so concerned. Friends, family and even office connections were clueless why I went passive and didn’t answer their calls. They were unaware that even though I could see their calls, I could do nothing, for the screen had broken! It took me sometime to pass on the information that I would be unavailable for some time and after hearing about the accident, my well wishers were full of sympathy and prayers for you and my wallet!

We had just celebrated your first Birthday, I had even got you a new screenguard as those scratches on the previous one had to be done away with. Black, shiny, intelligent, efficient, you were my best buddy throughout the day. Whoever said Diamonds are a girl’s best friend didn’t have a smartphone!

The usual happy go lucky me, now wears a sad look while commuting to office. No longer can I listen to music, read news, or read articles on my way to work. You even doubled up as a mirror when I wanted to check the look when out. Encouraging the budding photographer in me, you also catered sportingly to my Selfie obsession! The other day I saw these beautiful birds in the evening and I lost the opportunity to click and blog about them and I cant tell you how much you were missed. I am somehow managing with a step phone borrowed from mom in law till you get treated, but honestly, nothing compares to you.

You ensured discipline in my life by instantly notifying me of any mail or update on twitter or Watsapp and showed me the value of timely reverts. It’s a torture now as I can only check these once a day, after I come back home. Unable to find me on Watsapp, my friends began to think I suddenly went on a holiday without informing them, only later they came to know, that the break from Watsapp jokes and juicy gossips is a forced one. With the screen gone, the temple run guy is also enjoying a forced break as I no longer ask him to run every morning!

Most importantly, my favourite activity is the worst affected - . I can no longer read and update blogs on the go. Imagine an idea coming to you in the morning and having to wait for the evening to blog whatever little is left in the memory.

Mr. Hubby asks me to chill and says you are just a phone. Gosh, when will these guys understand the difference between utility and affection! All I can do is helplessly stare at your lifeless, broken face every evening and wonder if I could have been more careful that day.

Although Mr. Hubby has promised he will take you for a surgery this weekend, let me tell you that until then, every minute is like a year to me. 

I feel cut off from the world and my favourite pastimes have become a thing of the past. Wish you have a speedy recovery and we can again enjoy our days like before.

Love,

S

Shaadi ke side effects

I know the title would make all the married folks smile, for the one who takes the plunge knows it all. But, for all you married and single readers who are hoping to get some masala on the nuances of marriage, you are in for some disappointment. For this post is not about the side effects of marriage, it is about the side effects of attending a big fat Indian wedding!

Recently, we had to attend a relative’s wedding. But what seemed like an occasion to unwind and catch up with juicy family gossip turned out to be a comedy of errors. So, without wasting any more time, let me just take you through the countdown to the wedding.

2 days before

Just like the bride’s beauty regime begins days before the D day, the guests too take pains to look their photogenic best. Mom in law ordered me to arrange for her hair color to ensure not even one white hair escapes untouched! I requested my salon lady for a late evening appointment for her “special” glow facial. What usually is a relaxing activity for me became a substitute for lullaby since an exhausted me, after a day full of meetings virtually got the facial etc done in a sleep mode. Poor lady had to wake me up frequently to save the facial cream from smudging on the salon chair.

The Clothes

This is the focal point of the preparations, for any slip here invites horrible photographs and secret discussions among the ladies groups. While I prefer to plan the look in advance, mom in law always comes up with a lazy “I will pick up anything that day” answer. However, in this department, I am the boss, so I insist upon selecting the attire, jewelry, accessories etc and even give strict directions not to make any last minute changes on her own. Seemed my foresightedness worked for we realized we had added few more pounds since the last wedding we attended and an emergency visit to the tailor was called for.

The leave

No matter how much work life balance we working women maintain, we are always expected to take leaves whenever there is something to do with relatives. Be it a relative dropping in for stay over, or a function at a distant relative, my father in law always tells me “the organization won’t stop working if you take a day’s leave!” I somehow manage with a “I will come early” promise, and by now, everyone has realized my leaving early from work means leaving half an hour early! Still for them, something is better than nothing!

The D Day

It was the day of the wedding. While the relatives had summoned me to be a part of some rituals to be performed by married women of the family that day, my super supportive mom in law made up for my absence with a perfect excuse. Praying for not getting any last minute meeting invite, I rushed for home.

The moment I stepped in, I was welcomed by shining faces with smiles. Everyone but me, had spent the afternoon getting ready at their leisurely pace. Now only I was left. Mom in law asked me to get ready in 10 min. “Getting ready in 10min for attending a wedding?” My eyeballs almost popped out of the sockets!  “Ya, you can just get the basic thing and remaining can be done on the way. After all the venue is far and there will be traffic jam” she said. I realized arguing would have wasted even those 10 min so I smiled and took my time in getting ready (well not just for myself, coz in between I also helped MIL with her saree, makeup etc. which ensured my extra time went unnoticed).

The Oh so pleasant lo..ng drive!

We just sat inside the car when Mr. Hubby realized we had forgotten the most important thing…the invitation card! For it had the address of the venue! MIL and I grumbled as we had to repeat the process of unocking and locking the house just to get the invitation card! “Couldn’t the men have kept it in their pocket while they watched the IPL repeat telecast?” we grumbled.

The wedding was in at the fag end of an NCR location, and as I struggled with Google navigator to help Mr. Hubby with the route, father in law kept cribbing we would be late and miss the function (though I kept on convincing him that going by the time Baraats (wedding processions) arrive these days, we could watch all prime time shows, leave for the venue and still be early!)

8:30pm

Since FIL was concerned about missing the action, we landed up at the wedding venue directly instead of the Baraat assembly point (we were representing the groom’s side). However, the scheme of things there took me by total surprise. At 8:30pm, the venue wore a deserted look, with some strange faces roaming around. These were people from the Bride’s side and were warm enough to welcome the early bird Baraatis!

Since we were the only people at the venue from the groom’s side the stewards flocked to our table like honeybees on flowers and after 2 rounds I, embarrassed with the extra attention, asked them to focus on serving the bride’s relatives as well!

The 2 main questions

Now there were 2 big questions for the evening –

     1.   When would the Baraat arrive? (For then only we would be able to hand over the gift and leave)

     2.   How to pass time till the Baraat arrive?

9:30pm

One hour had passed since we came. There was no sign of Baraat. Father in law got excited everytime he heard the sound of Dhols and trumpets, only to find that the Baraat belonged to another venue! Everytime he called up the father of the groom, he got the same “we are reaching in 15 minutes” reply. “Their 15 minutes never seem to get over” mom in law revolted, for sitting idle in an open lawn on a sultry summer evening wearing heavy saree, makeup and jewelry  was testing our patience levels.

10:30pm

Thankfully, the venue was decently filled with people now, majority belonging to the bride’s family, for the 15 minutes were not yet over. There was no sign of Baraat. Many from the groom’s side like us had dropped in the venue too and I empathized with them as they inquired about the whereabouts of the Baraat. Most women took the delay as a chance to take rounds of the venue and flaunt their sarees, makeup and jewelry. The teenager girls sensing competition, took to the dance floor and their almost perfect imitation of popular Bollywood moves ensured a lot of attention from the male fraternity!

Mom in law and I killed time by discussing the sarees and jewelry of the women who passed by but that too didn’t help us for long. I was beginning to feel sleepy and tired by now and felt like hitting the sac, for I had to go to work the next day. So mom in law suggested we have dinner and hopefully by the time we finished, the Baraat would have arrived. Sounded like a good idea.

11:30pm

We had relished the dinner and the desserts but the Baraat was still nowhere to be seen. “Have they demanded dowry and decided to call it quits?” I winked and asked mom in law! “Shhh…don’t talk inauspicious things” came the reply. I was almost asleep with head down on the table when mom in law noticed the groom’s sister in law. As if she spotted an angel, mom in law rushed to her with the gift in hand. From a distance I could see her share a few pleasantries, hand over the gift and come back. “Lets go, we are done”, mom in law said.

“But, w..where the hell (actually I didn’t say hell, though meant it!) is the baraat we have been waiting for?” I asked.

“She says it’s on the way, the people are still dancing” mom in law explained.

Still dancing? I was wondering.  Didn’t they know they had invited guests over who had been waiting for more than 3 hours? In a country where guests are considered Gods, here were some people who preferred to keep the Gods waiting while they danced and made merry. Didn’t for once they think of the bride who would have been waiting in heavy clothes, makeup and jewelry since evening, practicing the prefect smile to pose for the shutterbugs? It has been a trend at many weddings for the groom’s side to keep the junta waiting and arrive late for this makes them feel like celebs. But let me tell you that just by wearing flashy clothes and sitting on a horse, one doesn’t become a celeb….one becomes a celeb by his deeds and traits. What is the use of printing false timings on invitation cards then? People should at least respect others’ time.

We left without any further wait for the Junglee Baraat (as I named them)..:)

I felt a sudden impulse to slip a note for the groom’s father

“Dear Uncle,

Had we known the 15 minutes would never end, we would have struck a deal like they do with Pizza delivery boys…15 minutes or free…well, since the food is anyway free, the deal would be that if the Baraat doesn’t arrive in 15 minutes, they would be welcomed by a deserted venue!”

Being the sanskaari bahu I am, I obviously didn’t leave any such note.

The Hangover

Yes, the half wedding we attended also gave me a return gift. I was down with food poisoning the next day and red rashes all over my face (wished we would have couriered the wedding gift instead!)

So, for all of you who though only being married has side effects, even attending weddings has its own share of side effects!

Stubble made him an uncle

It happened on a chilly morning in January 1992. Groom hunting for Misha didi was at its all time high. Every Sunday, ma and papa would scan the matrimonial section of newspaper to filter out the groom with the right age, profession, caste & looks (the height weight mentioned in ad). Internet was an unknown feature those days. Meeting the boy himself, or waiting to receive a studio made pic via snail mail were the only options available.

In this case, Ma and pa opted for the blind date. On the designated date and time, we reached the coffee shop. Sharma family and white Maruti were the only details I knew and with that I began looking for any and every white Maruti that passed.

After sometime, a white Maruti stopped. Out came an aunty, and a man with thick glasses, tall, thin frame and a healthy crop of unclean stubble. As they drew nearer the designated spot, I became anxious, for we were supposed to meet the groom and his parents; not “just parents”.

“Smart Alecs, they wanna meet the girl first without showing the guy”, I whispered to didi. “If the father is like this, I don’t have any high hopes from the son either. Look at him, I hate that unclean stubble. A girl wants basic grooming atleast! What if the son follows his father’s trend?” Didi sounded very disappointed.

Within seconds, the lady walked up to papa and said “Namaste bhai sahab, this is my son, Akhil”

My face turned red, “Oh, so this uncle is the prospective groom? Look what an unclean stubble has done to a 26 year old!”

Protest Against Unclean Stubble Activity in association with BlogAdda.

The wave of change

This is the story of the youth, the power of We, the people, and the magic of staying connected!

Pallavpuram was just another sleepy town where corruption ruled. The local MLA Duryodhan Bhaiyya with his goon power, had a record of winning 4 consecutive polls from that constituency. Welfare was confined to a mere joke. The funds allocated by the centre were siphoned off midway by team Duryodhan before they reached its due recipients.

People suffered and hoped their plight would improve someday…

Perhaps this time, their wait was about to be over...

Shravan Kumar was the son of an honest police constable. Having grown up in Pallavpuram, he had been a witness to the atrocities of team Duryodhan and others. A Gandhian by thought, his only dream for his town was to get justice the non violence way.

He followed the election commission on twitter and facebook to know the various initiatives being taken for the upcoming general elections. Having completed his masters in IT, he volunteered to join the Ahimsa party as its technology head. It was not easy to expose team Duryodhan, for their connections ran up high till the centre. Shravan knew that the election commission was a neutral body. The right guidance to voters and fair elections would ensure a change of power in the general elections.

Duryodhan bhaiyya often lured the youngsters by free liquor and other freebies. They in turn, carried out booth capturing and fake voting for his party and also lured others.

Shravan knew if he was to awaken people, first the youth power had to be unleashed. For, the youth had the energy and guts to sweep away any tyrant from their town. He began connecting with the youngsters on facebook and twitter. Around the same time, WeChat a recently launched voice messaging service had become a rage with the youth of the town. They would spend hours sending each other voice messages and funny emoticons. Shravan and his party decided to make the best use of this opportunity.

They began sending voice messages to the youth about the state of things in their constituency and how they could exercise their right as voters to bring about change. The youth who had been till now, happy with Duryodhan Bhaiyya’s free liquor were beginning to realise they were losing much more in lieu of a cheap bottle of liquor.

Soon, the area heads of Shravan’s party formed online groups and communities on facebook and WeChat and shared the problems faced by the people. They shared articles on the rights and duties of voters; the various funds that the centre had allocated for the town. Every Friday, the area heads organised group chat sessions on WeChat where the youth discussed how they could exercise their rights and bring about a change. There were separate chat sessions for first time voters, and they were educated about their rights and duties.

The spark which Shravan lighted had by now transformed into the flame of justice.

Duryodhan bhaiyya and his goons were restless. Being used to their old violent ways, they never knew the power of social media. They hired a professional hacker to hack and disrupt the efforts of Shravan’s party, but failed.

A day before elections, the election commission also brought a secret gift for team Duryodhan. Every polling booth was fitted with surveillance cameras.

However, on the polling day, Duryodhan Bhaiyya’s goons tried booth capturing on few polling stations. While the surveillance cameras caught their act, few youngsters standing nearby caught their act on their mobiles. Within seconds the videos of Duryodhan’s goons went viral on Facebook, Twitter and WeChat.

This further awakened the people who had decided to sit at home for the fear of booth capturing. Knowing they were safe now, they happily came and exercised their vote. The old Mausi who could barely walk to the polling booth, gave a toothy smile to the media persons who had rushed after seeing the booth capturing video. “This is a day of change for Pallavpuram”, she said.

By evening, the booth capturing videos had crossed 1 million hits on Youtube. Duryodhan bhaiyya and his goons were nowhere to be seen. Finger print scan of every voter ensured there were no fake votes.

A day before the results, an online and sms poll signaled that the state of affairs seemed to change for good.

The poll results day was celebrated like a festival in Pallavpuram. Shravan’s party had won by a clear majority, breaking team Duryodhan’s winning spree. Within hours of the results being declared, Shravan crossed 100000 followers on twitter!

As the media persons rushed to interview the new youth icon of the country, Shravan thanked the voters in his online address and said, “Even the non violent have the courage to win. This is the victory of We the people and technology! Justice, Liberty, Equality and Fraternity are our rights and I am glad the youth have helped us bring about this revolution”

This post is written for Indian General Elections 2014 with Social Mobile Appscontest by WeChat and Indiblogger. #VoteForIndia

UnJaani Dushmanee with stubble

It was the wedding day of Bhola, the local hero and Champa, Thakur’s daughter. Sadness surrounded the decked up haveli. In last 3 months, 4 brides had lost their lives to the secret monster. His target – brides dressed in red. 

A night before wedding, the monster played his trick. He possessed Bhola’s body before the wedding rituals. Waiting for the kill, all it could do to Bhola was to grow ugly stubble on his face.

Everyone was shocked. But since Bhola had just been back from a trip to town, everyone thought stubble was the new fashion in town.

The procession reached Champa’s haveli. Dressed in red, Champa walked in. As she looked up to see her prince charming, her eyes opened wide in shock. The smooth and well groomed Bhola was sporting ugly stubble!

“Bhola, what have you done? This is not the look we decided. I hate that unclean stubble.” Champa fumed. “Bapu, I can’t marry him. Marriage happens once in life, I can’t spoil my photu album with this ugly look”, she said.

The monster hiding inside Bhola’s body, couldn’t take any more insult. “I will show her what can I do”. Within minutes the stubble grew to an ugly beard and the monster pounced at Champa.

Just then, Swamiji, the village priest threw Gangajal on him. The monster soon left Bhola’s body and Bhola became normal.

“Beti, how did u know he had changed?” Thakur Sahab asked. 

Champa smiled, “Bapu, when I met Bhola the first time, his simplicity and clean shaven look bowled me over. I knew Bhola would do anything but would never sport stubble, coz he knows his Champa hates that unclean stubble”

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