This Blog was written in facebook when I was in Kolkata Customs… What did I learn after spending so many months in Kolkata? IS IT…. There are more fish varieties in Bengal markets than in Bay of Bengal? SC Bose alone got us freedom? Ganguly is the only cricketer during his era and sachin, dravid used to be water carriers then? Bengal is the sweet capital of India? No..  I learnt in how many ways my stomach can be infected!!?           My stomach has been inhibited by variety of viruses and bacterias and they live in colonies. Now they have started their unions as well. My stomach problems continue like Hanuman’s tail. For the last week or so, It again adopted the strike culture of Bengal and refused to work like Govt employees. The strike was followed by slogans and sounds. Heavy riot followed. I can’t digest this any more!               Advices started to pour in from all ten directions?!! Top and bottom directions included. Eat banana, bread, drink black tea, do regular exercise, do yoga and take homeopathy medicines. I liked the first 3 only as it involved eating. My family doctor gave me a list of medicines. When I asked him “Is it before or after the meals? He scornfully looked at me and said “for meals”.              Well nowadays I purchase medicines like groceries. Some pharmacists treat me like their new competitor who is going to open a shop, some give me royal treatment. They give me ‘festival offer’, special discounts and compliments. Nowadays whenever a new medicine comes including gynaecology tablets, they inform me.                I could withstand all ‘pressures’ except seeing my peers slurping 3 course meals with 4 course non-veg items. In Haldia we have our mess and they serve non-veg, 3 times a day. Daily we eat a fish variety excluding blue whale and penguin. Haldia market is small one. So we don’t get them here. Ever since I told my friends that I should not take non-veg, their appetite seems to have grown manifold. They indulge in fingerlicking monoactings in front of me to augur my agony. I had to change my meal timings.               Will any Indian invent a stomach with less tubes for “stomach transplantation” please. Do you think, we can’t? Though Phone and sim were invented by others, We are the ones who invented ‘Missed Call’. Isn’t it? We can.  smile emoticon

How to remember your wife’s birthday, anniversary and other important dates. Five easy steps to be a successful husband 😜 1.   Branded showrooms and big shops are asking to fill our anniversary dates and spouse’s birthdates.      Write one day prior to the actual dates.      Nowadays they are reminding us by sending wishes and we won’t miss an occasion. 2.  Use social sites like fb, way2sms to remind the dates. You can set future smss alongwith time here. 3.  Sit one day and store all these evil dates in your cellphone to keep a reminder. 4.  Bribe your children to remind the dates diplomatically like “If You can remember and tell me one day before mother’s birthday then I will gift you a brand new watch” (whatever).  Our life is more precious than the cost of watch. 5.  If nothing works, then forget your wife’s birthday once. Then you will never forget it again in your life time. (Issued in husbands interest)

When Indians complete air travel, Why do they never remove the baggage destination tag till reaching their remote hometown? Do they ever remove it or always carry them around till it wears off? Why do we celebrate the Indians who achieved some thing big in a foreign country, when they had already left Madame India, obtained foreign citizenship and settled elsewhere? Our press finds out that their father’s 2nd grandmother was Indian. If plucking a white hair from the head produces more white hairs, Will plucking a black hair prop up more black hair? The Impending fall of low hip pants is more dangerous to the wearing men or watching women? No. of women in a house is directly proportional to the amount of hair in the comb. Still men have to clean it. Invariably ‘Lawyers’, ‘Police’ stickers are pasted in their vehicles, is it to show the power?! Does anyone who thinks “Time is gold” feel  free to exchange the gold with my time? 

              Saloon is the a place where a man learns to know the meaning of Patience. It trains a bachelor to become a patient husband and a patient husband to become a saint.               Yesterday I went to my regular Saloon for a simple haircut. I had to wait for my favourite hair stylist who was busy over the head of another customer.  As I was next, I opted for completion of the rituals on his head. The person was weighing around a century and resembled a bear. I started to browse from the day’s newspaper and continued upto 15 days backwards. Shaving followed the haircut. When I thought of occupying the chair at the finish, my nemesis opted for head massage. I started to bite my nails and just continued to stare at him. I was scolding him in my mind with a lot of ****           The hairstylist poured oil and started to hit, tap, knock and roll his hand. In spite of my simmering, I couldn’t control my smile by seeing his face. His face was contracting and twisting and visibly was lost in seventh heaven. At last when the beautification came to the illogical end, I could only laugh when he opted for facial. He discussed facial creams elaborately with the stylist and settled for fruit cream therapy. Was he going to eat? I got frustrated and asked him directly if he had anything else in his mind. Now welding and polishing his face went on. As it is no use of leaving after wasting one hour, I continued to watch the work.  Another two, three sittings like this, I shall be qualified to join the saloon as a stylist! When the cream was removed I was hoping to see a hollywood actor. Alas! The same hippopotamus emerged amongst the cream and trampled past me with a smile as if to receive the “Miss Universe” award. I could only curse that his wife and family fail to recognise him entirely and disown him for the rest of his life.  

There are many adventurous activities. I want the World Sports body to recognize ‘bus travel in Kolkata’ as one such activity where there isn’t any paucity for thrill, grill and drill. You have to cling on to your dear life till the end.                Overcrowded or jam-packed is an understatement. Friends, you can help me here with an apt word. The word must pack enough pain similar to being crushed by an elephant or grinded by wife! Bachelors will never know.  The buses come so crowded and it will be hardly visible. People will be sticking to it like in Fevicol add. Buses will stop anywhere and everywhere except bus stop. Even if you stifle a yawn with outstretched hands, the bus will stop. But still it won’t be possible to reach the bus as two wheelers and autos cross it on both sides. You have to shout at the conductor like Hindi film heroine who is kidnapped. When the bus stops, some people are ejected and you can see the new found freedom in their faces. An half an hour journey exhausts 750 calories which is equal to 1 hour work out in gym or washing of a week’s family clothes by married men on Sundays. If you board the bus with apple, you will get down with apple juice, without any added preservatives, of course. If you carry coconut, you will get down with coconut oil. If you carry a baby, now don’t imagine things. You won’t get baby oil. Daily I travel a few kms hanging on the bus on some one’s foot or shoulder till I reach the first step. And then I will be sucked inside the crusher.              You don’t have to worry about climbing the bus steps. You will be transported in escalator style. If you land in dark place, then you are in the ladies side, with all that free flowing hair. You have to comb through them as they hate to control the hair. If it is red, then you are in men’s side, with all that paan and black teeth, some people can kill the snakes with single bite. Poor dentists. While ladies compete with each other in eating, men are busy competing in spitting like titanic couple. Actually we must get patent for spitting. I never sit near the window as my seat sharer will eventually spit across my face. I graciously spare the window seats. For that matter I never get seats as the bus owner seems to be hiring people to prevent me from sitting in the bus.              When we ache for air inside the bus like fish out of water, the conductors always shout “Andhar kaali hey”. They must be meaning our heads, for travelling in their buses. With all that sweat, congestion and smell, bofar’s gas will fall on its knees and beg not to pollute it. But we are gas proof.  Tickets are printed on papers taken from shredding machines. Re-recycling, you see.                Buses move at snail pace. You can occasionally drop down for a cup of tea and catch the bus again. Drivers ply the buses like auto, with lots of jerks and rapid turns missing other buses by millimeters. He is the chief trainer who helps to build our muscles by compelling us to hold on. The side effect is we always bulge at the wrong places.                Buses are like chariots. Half of them wooden. With so much daily load, they still move. Now you believe in God, Don’t you?                  I learnt of some conductor vacancies. If  you want after this, forward your resume to me. After all what friends are for!

This was written when I was in Kolkata Customs. 1.    Names are easy to remember (!) here. Half the persons are Bose/Das and  the remaining are Banerjee/Chatterjee. 2.    Foot path is for hawkers. If possible, you can walk also. 2 lakh people are boarding and lodging in the foot paths. No rent, no power, no free space and no hygiene. If you dare to ask them what is hygiene, they will tell it as a new brand of jeans. 3.    Buildings are as old as Santa Claus. Seriously if an earth quake epicenters in Kolkata, half the city will be wiped out in seconds. I am planning to move to foot path. 4.   All trees are occupied by Chai wala or Kali madha. Here tea is served in mud pots. When I asked a chai wala about it, he explained me for five minutes why it is hygiene and how it will not burn my fingers. He was right. I burnt my lips. 5.   State hobby is spitting. They spit, Spit and SPIT. You must wear a rain coat while crossing buses. If fine for spitting is implemented,  Mamta Ma’m can give loan to Centre. 6.   Offices start as early as 12 pm. Some people come early at 11.55 am. Besides talking about foot ball and politics, if possible, they work also. In between 4 tea breaks and 3 snack breaks are the order. Each office has 3 to 4 unions and elections are conducted every year for 11 months. 7.     People eat sweets for food. If you know to make rasagulla and jilabi, come here. you can make a killing. 8.     As the British forgot to take the Tram, its is still running on the roads without passengers. 9.    When people gets bored, they hold a festival. I am seeing 10th pooja in my 5 months stay. Some one is always sitting on the trees to tie and untie the speakers. 10.   ‘Mangal Sutra”, the instrument in which the south film industry hangs on, is not found here. I enquired one of my bengali friend. From that day he is not talking. Curiosity killed a friendship. 11.   Jasmine and Kanahambaram are not seen in this part of the earth. No lady seems to wear any flower. For that sake, they don’t tie the hair even. 12.   People talk, talk and talk. I wonder how they remain without talking for one and half years after birth!   In talking, My friends here can beat women with hands down. 13.   They talk so loud, I am getting echo now a days. Once I told my boss not to tell me twice. 14.    Last week, When my colleagues were discussing some secret matter slowly, I attended a phone call from my wife. My wife immediately asked me “What are you doing in the railway station?” 15.   Roads are always crowded. Every one on the road runs literally. If you have to ask for direction, you have to jog alongwith them. I don’t know why they could not produce good athletes. 16.   People’s G.K is very good. When I asked for direction to East, twice they sent me towards west. As they are aware that the earth is round, They were sure that I will reach east invariably. 17.   They are very proud people. When they collide with you on the road on step on you in the bus, they will never tell sorry. They feel it is their fundamental right. 18.   My working area Kidderpur is famous for pick pockets.   If I happen to touch hands with others, I count and check my fingers. 19.   Any how Kolkata changed my selfish nature. Earlier I wanted to work in Tamil Nadu alone. Now I am ready to work any where other than Kolkata!

Airport corner Yesterday there Was an accident in my house. Not literally.While having dinner, absentmindedly I called “Praba, oru Idly kudu.” My wife came out from the kitchen and asked “Who is Praba?” Then everything went topsy-turvy. Either I should stop calling our airport food server “Prabakaran” as “Praba” or my wife as “Praba”. Well the Idly never came. I was never good at bargaining or marketing. After commanding, advising, cajoling and pleading with the passengers to pay duty for TV in airport now I am trained enough to sell elephants to every housewife.

“Shocking” news… I was in Airport Exit gate collecting Customs declaration forms which is to be submitted by all International passengers on arrival. When I collected the form from a person we both were literally electrocuted. We jumped and stared in utter disbelief. I know I am an electrifying personality but how can this happen? Later My Boss explained that it was static electricity that a body develops during the flight. When they walk without touching any thing I.e busily abusing the dirty airport, incapability of staff etc., they carry their pride and electricity with them and discharge it on the hapless person who comes into contact. Unfortunately that was me on that day. That day I got shock four times. In white uniform Whether I look like a tube light or pole is any body’s guess!? Everyone seemed to be bringing the energy and discharging it on me. I had developed a lot of positive energy. I tried collecting with my left hand, right hand and tray. Not with mouth of course. My Boss mocked “I told you to conduct good and not to be a good conductor”. At the end of day, I had enough electricity to light a bulb. As I would hate people use me for a “mobile charger”, I intend to go like a bomb squad detector in full suit hereafter! It happened on the next day as well. May be this is the reason why I am getting darker daily. At this rate I may soon become a ‘powerful’ man and start attracting people like a Magnet.

winging personality Customs Officer…. At 7 pm –  Feel like a teen while entering the airport.At 11 pm –  Feel like a man on mission while performing the duty.At 3 am   –  Feel like a drunkard while watching the people hurrying.At 7 am   –  Feel like a saint while leaving the airport bereft of any emotion.No need for Sanyas, Bothi tree to attain nirvana.Come, It only takes 12 hours to attain sainthood.

Part I First Night… This was the first year I remained awake for the “Maha Shiv Rathri”. Not of any Nithyananda’s bakthi movement but due to my customs duty. I am posted at Anna Int. Airport and it was my First Night Duty!! I thought of catching one or two smugglers and going to sleep. But in reality, people were vacating foreign nations and returning in my shift. So It turned out to be a nightmare in broad light. Forbidding me from drooping the eyelids for a sec is like forbidding Salman Khan from removing his shirt . I have been a “sleeper cell” with ample sleeping prowess from my childhood. My first fuse invariably goes off the grid around 9 pm. So when I stifled a yawn at 9 pm, My Supdts were shocked and enquired my physical health like “Would I need an ambulance to return?” I countered “Why sir, will the glass panels fall on my head?”. He replied “May be, It always fall at the empty spots.” I could see people of ‘various’ sizes and colours buzzing around. I was the only zombie ‘walking around’. After monitoring at the scanner for sometime, I automatically started to see everything in “Ultraviolet image”. I drank coffee and tea for water and was gliding like “Tom”. In between I had to check some suspects’ bags and underwares!!. These people’s unwashed linens had a worse stench than unwashed toilets. I literally had to run my fingers through them. I am worried of the day, when someone will be handed over to me for extraction of gold which would be in his stomach. Time for baby shitting?! I tried all tricks. Loitered like a pregnant lady every where. Whacked my face. Laughed aloud. Ran on the same spot. Then I went into the office and jumped and jumped like a Penguin. Suddenly my Supdt entered laughing and told “Arey yar, this is a good idea, I try only fast walking”. I washed my face and went to my colleague to know how to remain awake. But he was snoring sitting in the chair. So I went to another one. He asked “Neendhu Aarah?” I replied “What time?” thinking it’s the next flight. He stared at me and told “Go for a walk”. I slowly strolled and woke up all the passengers who were sleeping in their chairs! I talked with the security men, Air hostesses and statues. After 3 am, it was impossible. I felt totally blank and numb, bereft of any thinking or emotion. Why did Buddha waste so many years to achieve this state? I remembered a King who used to sleep with his eyes open. I surfed to find how to get somnambulism ? At 6 am, brain started to function a bit. It was like a year inside the Airport.  After my Kolkata struggle, this must be the time for ‘Zombie walk’. So It’s time to learn either sleepwalking or sleeping while sitting.  Till then…It’s Good Night to the world and Bad Night for me.