Pehle kuch bano Santosh.
Duniya mein tumhe kitne log jaante hai???
Paach sau? Hazaar?? Bus itne hi??
Tum yahan kya likhte ho, kaun padhta hai aur kisse pharak padhta hai???
Kise bewakoof bana rahe ho yaar? Sirf apne aap ko??
Jaao Aamir Khan ke blog ko padho. Sirf 10 posts aur 10 hazaar comments.
Tumhare blog se tum kya ukhaad rahe ho?? Sirf ek mazaak bana ke rakha hai.
Apne aap ka!!
Chalo ab log out karo! PC switch off karo!
Kitaab kholo. CAT ke liye padho. Pareeksha mein acche number laao.
GD/PI mein excel karo.
MBA karo. Top honours ke saath graduate karo!!
Successful bano! CEO bano!!! Kuch toh bano pehle!!!
Phir blog karo!!!!
Aur phir dekho ... phir dekho ki kitne comments milte hai.
Chal shuru hoja.
Abhi se.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Hair today gone tomorrow ... concluding part
Read below post before reading this one.
The First of November.
This was the day when I was going to begin my battle against the wanton destruction of my follicles. The plan was that I would meet up with my benevolent benefactor after work and he would lead me towards this miracle man, this doctor who gave people like me hope.
The day had started out well but by evening time the sky had grown dark. Huge rain clouds were gathering and the early droplets started pelting my head when I got down from the office bus. As I met the benevolent benefactor I could sense the change in his mood. He was worried, tensed about something. For some reason, the thought of visiting this doctor had robbed him of, temporarily at least, the desire for conversation. After a few futile attempts I stopped making further attempts at chit-chat and gazed out pensively from the rickshaw which was taking us to our destination.
The clouds had completely enveloped the evening sky in a deathly embrace and bright, livid flashes of lightning scarred the dark sky. It was as if the Gods had gathered to witness this epic battle against hair-loss that was about to begin. And were clicking snaps to commemorate the occasion.
When we arrived at our destination, the building that loomed before us further heightened my sense of apprehension. It was the infamous Laxmi Chhaya Apartments of which, just a few months ago, a wing had collapsed and killed at least 30 people. The clinic was apparently located in one of the undamaged wings.
When we entered the receptionist handed us a token. It said #13 on mine. Funny number to get, I mused. Especially since I could see just 3 other patients in the clinic. We sat down to await our turn. Since the benevolent benefactor still didn't display an inclination to converse, I whiled away the time checking out the other patients. Two of them were aunties and the third a hot chick, sitting next to the receptionist's desk.
I wondered what she was doing over here. She certainly wouldn't have come for the same reason as I did. Could she? I tried to ascertain it. She had long luxuriant hair of which a single strand was tentatively hanging in front of her lips, and ever so often she would blow it to the side. But the strand of hair had the same idea that I did and it would swing back to the front of her lips.
Of course, the close attention that I was paying to this drama unfolding in front of me did not go unnoticed from the eyes of one of the more sterner looking aunties and she immediately called the girl towards her. Her mother I realized to my discomfort. The look in the mother's eyes said it plainly. Don't you dare stare at my daughter you balding buffoon! Or I'll make sure that you won't be left with any hair for the good doctor to save!! I'm sure this was what she was thinking.
Taking heed, I immediately started staring at an extremely interesting speck of dirt on the marble-tiled floor. "#7", sang out the receptionist. We all looked around. After 5 seconds, she sang out again, "#8!". She looked at me. I was sure that my expression must have carried the message to her. "How can #7 and #8 be expected to exist when I the fourth here am no 13!!!"
The call for #9 came soon enough.
Half an hour passed by and finally my turn arrived. I followed the benevolent benefactor into the doctor's chamber. Immediately all his previous truculence left him and the benevolent benefactor and the doctor started conversing in their native Gujarati. Two minutes passed before they noticed the embarrassed odd man out over there and the benevolent benefactor explained, "Doctor! He is here for the same reason as I am."
"Ohhh ... Whale whale whale!" the doctor started. "Late us see weight we cane do!"
He told me to pull back the hair from the front of my scalp and made a sympathetic clicking sound, which made my stomach sink.
"Whale Whale ... So Mr. Butt! Err you mayreed?"
"Excuse me? I'm sorry doctor but I didn't get your question."
"He is asking if you are married?", explained the benevolent benefactor helpfully.
"Oh .. er.. No", I stuttered.
"Do you wees to gate mayried, no?" said the doctor again, smiling genially.
"Er yeah sure", I stuttered again. I wondered where this line of questioning was going. Was he a doctor cum matchmaker? Or did he just find me to be the perfect groom for his daughter?
"Whale if date ease yore wees then we bater do something about yore hare foal quickly."
I gulped. I had always known that it was bad but I never knew that the situation had become so serious. My marriage and the continuation of my line was all dependent on the outcome of this battle. This battle to which I had arrived after it was almost all over.
But Herr Doktor smiled genially again and wrote me a long list of medicines on a sheet of paper. I glanced down at it but I could make no sense out of the illegible scrawl on it. All doctors should compulsorily be made to attend a cursive writing course in school again, I swear! I hoped that atleast my chemist would be able to understand it and would give me the right medicines, instead of wrongly giving me a laxative or something.
He continued, "These 3 ease after brakefust, These 3 ease after lunch, These 2 after evening snakes and last 3 ease after deaner."
He continued smiling and patted my shoulder, "Don't worry!"
And the session was over. And I was soon light by 500 bucks.
Yeah right! Not to worry! After you made me realize that my future marriage was at stake over here.
The tale of how I bid adieu to the benevolent benefactor, stumbled to the nearest chemists shop, acquired the latest medicines and finally made my way home, I myself remember hazily.
I have started the medicines in full earnest. Daily I ingest about half a dozen tablets and capsules. Whether I do win the battle and manage to spawn a new generation ... of hair, only time will eventually tell. I just hope that finally I am well equipped with ammo.
This is Santosh Bhat, making his last report from the battle, taking yore leave... err...taking your leave!
The First of November.
This was the day when I was going to begin my battle against the wanton destruction of my follicles. The plan was that I would meet up with my benevolent benefactor after work and he would lead me towards this miracle man, this doctor who gave people like me hope.
The day had started out well but by evening time the sky had grown dark. Huge rain clouds were gathering and the early droplets started pelting my head when I got down from the office bus. As I met the benevolent benefactor I could sense the change in his mood. He was worried, tensed about something. For some reason, the thought of visiting this doctor had robbed him of, temporarily at least, the desire for conversation. After a few futile attempts I stopped making further attempts at chit-chat and gazed out pensively from the rickshaw which was taking us to our destination.
The clouds had completely enveloped the evening sky in a deathly embrace and bright, livid flashes of lightning scarred the dark sky. It was as if the Gods had gathered to witness this epic battle against hair-loss that was about to begin. And were clicking snaps to commemorate the occasion.
When we arrived at our destination, the building that loomed before us further heightened my sense of apprehension. It was the infamous Laxmi Chhaya Apartments of which, just a few months ago, a wing had collapsed and killed at least 30 people. The clinic was apparently located in one of the undamaged wings.
When we entered the receptionist handed us a token. It said #13 on mine. Funny number to get, I mused. Especially since I could see just 3 other patients in the clinic. We sat down to await our turn. Since the benevolent benefactor still didn't display an inclination to converse, I whiled away the time checking out the other patients. Two of them were aunties and the third a hot chick, sitting next to the receptionist's desk.
I wondered what she was doing over here. She certainly wouldn't have come for the same reason as I did. Could she? I tried to ascertain it. She had long luxuriant hair of which a single strand was tentatively hanging in front of her lips, and ever so often she would blow it to the side. But the strand of hair had the same idea that I did and it would swing back to the front of her lips.
Of course, the close attention that I was paying to this drama unfolding in front of me did not go unnoticed from the eyes of one of the more sterner looking aunties and she immediately called the girl towards her. Her mother I realized to my discomfort. The look in the mother's eyes said it plainly. Don't you dare stare at my daughter you balding buffoon! Or I'll make sure that you won't be left with any hair for the good doctor to save!! I'm sure this was what she was thinking.
Taking heed, I immediately started staring at an extremely interesting speck of dirt on the marble-tiled floor. "#7", sang out the receptionist. We all looked around. After 5 seconds, she sang out again, "#8!". She looked at me. I was sure that my expression must have carried the message to her. "How can #7 and #8 be expected to exist when I the fourth here am no 13!!!"
The call for #9 came soon enough.
Half an hour passed by and finally my turn arrived. I followed the benevolent benefactor into the doctor's chamber. Immediately all his previous truculence left him and the benevolent benefactor and the doctor started conversing in their native Gujarati. Two minutes passed before they noticed the embarrassed odd man out over there and the benevolent benefactor explained, "Doctor! He is here for the same reason as I am."
"Ohhh ... Whale whale whale!" the doctor started. "Late us see weight we cane do!"
He told me to pull back the hair from the front of my scalp and made a sympathetic clicking sound, which made my stomach sink.
"Whale Whale ... So Mr. Butt! Err you mayreed?"
"Excuse me? I'm sorry doctor but I didn't get your question."
"He is asking if you are married?", explained the benevolent benefactor helpfully.
"Oh .. er.. No", I stuttered.
"Do you wees to gate mayried, no?" said the doctor again, smiling genially.
"Er yeah sure", I stuttered again. I wondered where this line of questioning was going. Was he a doctor cum matchmaker? Or did he just find me to be the perfect groom for his daughter?
"Whale if date ease yore wees then we bater do something about yore hare foal quickly."
I gulped. I had always known that it was bad but I never knew that the situation had become so serious. My marriage and the continuation of my line was all dependent on the outcome of this battle. This battle to which I had arrived after it was almost all over.
But Herr Doktor smiled genially again and wrote me a long list of medicines on a sheet of paper. I glanced down at it but I could make no sense out of the illegible scrawl on it. All doctors should compulsorily be made to attend a cursive writing course in school again, I swear! I hoped that atleast my chemist would be able to understand it and would give me the right medicines, instead of wrongly giving me a laxative or something.
He continued, "These 3 ease after brakefust, These 3 ease after lunch, These 2 after evening snakes and last 3 ease after deaner."
He continued smiling and patted my shoulder, "Don't worry!"
And the session was over. And I was soon light by 500 bucks.
Yeah right! Not to worry! After you made me realize that my future marriage was at stake over here.
The tale of how I bid adieu to the benevolent benefactor, stumbled to the nearest chemists shop, acquired the latest medicines and finally made my way home, I myself remember hazily.
I have started the medicines in full earnest. Daily I ingest about half a dozen tablets and capsules. Whether I do win the battle and manage to spawn a new generation ... of hair, only time will eventually tell. I just hope that finally I am well equipped with ammo.
This is Santosh Bhat, making his last report from the battle, taking yore leave... err...taking your leave!
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Hair today Gone Tomorrow
I have been having steadily for the past 3 years going bald.
Everyday my pillow is a battlefield strewn with the bodies of my dear departed follicles, follicles who were once proud regal upright untamed beasts residing in the forest of my scalp. But pollution and the ravages of time have laid to waste these noble warriors. I dutifully collect them in the palm of my hand and say a prayer for these old friends and companions of mine before i deposit their bodies respectfully into the waste bucket.
My forehead has a singular mission in life, its lakshya so to say. It is in the tradition of great conquerors of the Napoleonic era, bent on conquering new lands and new territories and it's eventual goal is to extend its kingdom to the back of my neck. Or at the minimum it wants to win the game of oneupmanship against Anupam Kher's scalp.
For the past few years I have been a mute witness to this carnage. It has greatly saddened me no doubt, but I took it philosophically as terminally lazy people are oft to do. I was maybe hoping that everything would automatically be all right. People whom I consulted in the matter, namely my mother and my father, assured me that I was worrying about nothing. This was not a genocide of follicles that I was witnessing, merely a culling of some of the more unhealthy ones among the general population. They assured me that at the end of it all I would be left with a strong but still numerous batch, ones who deservedly remained.
Thus I managed to still the malignant doubts and fears in my heart up unto now. But the mirror never lies. It showed the pain, bald truth from all vantage angles and finally at the end of three years of being a non-combatant I was finally ready for some action. To quote Bill Pullman who played the President of the United States in Independence Day:
"We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. Perhaps it's fate that today you will once again be fighting for our freedom... Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution... but from annihilation. We are fighting for our right to live. To exist. And should we win the day the world will declare in one voice: "We will not go quietly into the night!" We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day!"
(Hear original speech here)
Suitably inspired I contacted a dear friend of mine who had been undergoing the same problems, who had decided to battle against it and who ... atleast according to him ... was beginning to win. I will not name him over here. I will simply refer to him as my benevolent benefactor.
I had heard strange rumours come out from the more well-known purveyors of anti-hair fall treatments ... The Batras ... of immense fees and prolonged treatment periods ... and I willingly followed my friend to a place which he assured me would treat me quickly and effectively.
My benevolent benefactor took me to a see a doctor two evenings ago, one who had supplied him with the necessary ammunition he required to win back his lost territory. And what a strange evening it turned out to be...
(To be continued ... )
Everyday my pillow is a battlefield strewn with the bodies of my dear departed follicles, follicles who were once proud regal upright untamed beasts residing in the forest of my scalp. But pollution and the ravages of time have laid to waste these noble warriors. I dutifully collect them in the palm of my hand and say a prayer for these old friends and companions of mine before i deposit their bodies respectfully into the waste bucket.
My forehead has a singular mission in life, its lakshya so to say. It is in the tradition of great conquerors of the Napoleonic era, bent on conquering new lands and new territories and it's eventual goal is to extend its kingdom to the back of my neck. Or at the minimum it wants to win the game of oneupmanship against Anupam Kher's scalp.
For the past few years I have been a mute witness to this carnage. It has greatly saddened me no doubt, but I took it philosophically as terminally lazy people are oft to do. I was maybe hoping that everything would automatically be all right. People whom I consulted in the matter, namely my mother and my father, assured me that I was worrying about nothing. This was not a genocide of follicles that I was witnessing, merely a culling of some of the more unhealthy ones among the general population. They assured me that at the end of it all I would be left with a strong but still numerous batch, ones who deservedly remained.Thus I managed to still the malignant doubts and fears in my heart up unto now. But the mirror never lies. It showed the pain, bald truth from all vantage angles and finally at the end of three years of being a non-combatant I was finally ready for some action. To quote Bill Pullman who played the President of the United States in Independence Day:
"We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. Perhaps it's fate that today you will once again be fighting for our freedom... Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution... but from annihilation. We are fighting for our right to live. To exist. And should we win the day the world will declare in one voice: "We will not go quietly into the night!" We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day!"(Hear original speech here)
Suitably inspired I contacted a dear friend of mine who had been undergoing the same problems, who had decided to battle against it and who ... atleast according to him ... was beginning to win. I will not name him over here. I will simply refer to him as my benevolent benefactor.
I had heard strange rumours come out from the more well-known purveyors of anti-hair fall treatments ... The Batras ... of immense fees and prolonged treatment periods ... and I willingly followed my friend to a place which he assured me would treat me quickly and effectively.
My benevolent benefactor took me to a see a doctor two evenings ago, one who had supplied him with the necessary ammunition he required to win back his lost territory. And what a strange evening it turned out to be...
(To be continued ... )
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