Bloody Indians in Vegas

As mentioned in the previous post, here’s another twisted tale of telephony.

First, the disclaimer: Unlike other incidents on this blog, this one is not autobiographical. It happened with three guys whose identity shan’t be revealed. Being trustworthy has many benefits in the long run.

Three twenty some-things, born and brought up in India, gathered in Las Vegas. Let’s name the three characters as LK (Logical Kamina), CB (Confused Bhola) and DA (Devil’s Advocate).

LK stays in India and was on a three-week business trip to California. LK and CB had studied together in a reputed institute of India while DA and CB were doing their MS degree together in a reputed institute of USA. CB was the common friend and it was he who planned the two-day trip to Vegas in honor of LK’s short visit.

Apart from having good-natured fun, adventure and gambling in the sin-city, the idea (as must be expected given the group’s demographical attributes and the geography they were in) was to do something “sexy” (a refinement of their terminology; they called it chamdigiri).

LK is a pompous fellow and had already announced to the world that he was going to Vegas. Everyone in his circle naturally assumed that he would at least visit a strip-bar and so it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. It would have been foolish, according to LK, to take the blame and still not commit the crime. You have to hand him some points there. But let’s also keep in mind for the rest of the post that LK has been brought up quite well in a very traditional family.

CB, like most of the engineering student, was still a virgin and not very proud of the fact; however he was a good boy with a good heart. He has a wavering mind and can get carried away in his weak moments.

I don’t know much about DA apart from his role in this episode and hence the name. He was single mindedly focused on getting laid in Vegas and that was the reason he was on the trip, despite not being a close friend of LK.

Let’s jump straight to their hotel room when they were about to plan that something “sexy”. Of course, they have been discussing and researching it since days, but now was the time to act.

“We have three options: 1. Go to a nightclub, patao drunken girls, do some grinding and may be more. 2. Get a Lap-Dance in a Strip Club 3. Call a hooker.” LK summarized the problem efficiently.

“Let’s do 1 first and then we’ll do the third” DA was in the mood to live life to the fullest. The reason for him not including the second point was the budget constraint put on the "sexy" task before the trip began.

“I can’t do point number one. 24 saal me ek desi to pati nahi, ek raat me gori kahan se pategi” CB was brutally honest here.

“I agree with CB. Mujh se bhi nahi hoga point one.” LK had no delusions either.

“Ok, then let’s call the hooker. No point wasting time.” DA didn’t like the structured approach taken for the purpose.

“Naa. Raani nahi yaar. We’ll just take a Lap-dance and that’s it. Full-fledged thoda jyada ho jayega” the traditionally brought up LK voiced his reluctance.
(“Raani” is an intentional typo here. Call me a hypocrite if you will, but to me, expletives and swear-words in Hindi sound much more horrible than in English.)

“Who is going to know? What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” DA tried to persuade using conventional wisdom. He was distraught at the stand being taken.

“I agree with LK. Having paid-sex doesn’t feel right. Lap-dance is a good compromise” CB continued with the analytical tone.

“Majority wins. I am going to bathe and then we’ll all go to the “Rebecca’s Palace” across the street for the Lap-dance.” LK was relieved at CB’s support, and closed the discussion.

As LK finished his bath and walked into the room, he saw the pale face of CB and a nervous smile on DA.

“He called the hooker. Teeno ke liye ek hee mangaayi hain” CB was quick to offload the guilt. Clearly DA had attacked the still-a-virgin weak point of CB and got him to agree in LK’s absence.

“Abe, why did you agree!! Aur TEEN ke liye EK. Imagine how we would do it. Taking turns into the room ?? How filthy can you get!!” LK was extremely annoyed.

“Per-head one was getting out of budget constraint.” said CB.

“I don’t care. I am not participating. I am going alone to Rebecca’s. You two do what you want to.” LK made his point clear.

Within minutes, CB was back on LK’s side. DA couldn’t afford the cost alone. So they decided to call it off. So as to not bruise DA’s ego further, it was decided that CB would have to call up the agency and cancel the service.

“Do it quick. She would ask for money if she gets here” LK was strict on CB.

“Kya bolke manaa karun?” CB posed a valid question; not many have any answers to it. For an inexperienced bunch in a foreign territory, it was all the more difficult.

“You just call and say whatever comes to your mind at that time” LK, the wisest amongst the three, said.

CB rang up the number and came up with this gem “Hello! Actually our parents are also coming here. Please don’t come.”

LK and DA were in tears within seconds. Only a true son of soil, from the land where once Shravana was born, could have come up with that excuse.

CB didn’t lose his virginity that night, but all three had great fun at Rebecca’s. More importantly, they have ensured sound sleep without any worries for Indian ladies whose worse half would be traveling to Vegas. By now the word must have traveled through the escort services there and all the Indians must have been blacklisted.

The Twisted Telephonic Tales

Rain Gods, all over the world, have developed quirky little sadistic tendencies in response to the Global warming. But those in Bangalore seem to have lost the touch this year. Right up to 2008, it used to rain heavily exactly between 6 and 9 in the evening. Those who have suffered know how cruel that timing is. This year however, it rains when the city sleeps (siesta time included) or after 9 at the worst. I am not very pleased with the situation though. Life has taught me to be wary if someone naughty starts behaving like an angel.

Anyway, here’s an entirely hypothetical question. Would you pick up your expensive mobile phone from a shit-pot (clean and western style, to make matters clearer), back in 2002, when recession was still very much there and incoming-calls were still not free? If yes, would you tell that to the world?

In my 3 year old mobile, the received calls’ duration is 320 hours while the dialed calls’ duration is 405 Hours. That ratio used to be 1:2 once upon a time; now it highlights the behavioral shift. Also, I am not very proud of the nearly 45 minutes/day blabber that these statistics indicate; though there are a few excusable reasons. There have been quite a few interesting minutes in those 725 hours. For example, two weeks ago, I received a call:

“Hello” I said, following the usual protocol. The number displayed on the mobile screen was unknown. There was a pause and the call was disconnected. It was midnight. My mobile beeped again a couple of minutes later with the same number and I picked up the call without speaking a word.

“Hello Priya !!” a nasal voice from the other side. He was probably drunk too. I disconnected with a succinct “Wrong number”. Phone beeped again.

“Hello, who are you?” we both said together and then he repeated it without the “Hello” and then I did the same.

They taught me at the school that the one who calls must first introduce oneself; I agree with the principle. I also find myself putting chewing-gum wrappers or any other paper in my pocket if there is no dust-bin around. However, the worst suffering is inflicted by the habit of turning up on time. Damn those manners, but now they are wired into me.

Coming back to our caller, let’s call him Ranjha, since I still don’t know his name. He told me to give the phone to Priya. I gathered that he was expecting her to pick up the phone when he called. I didn’t tell him that there is no Priya here; just me and my..errr..thoughts. He kept calling and I kept disconnecting after a few seconds, allowing him to scream “Priya” everytime. Apparently she must have been sleeping with me.

Later on I got bored of him and put the mobile in silent mode. There were 28 missed calls by the morning. I was pleased with my enviable status and saved his number as, guess what, Ranjha.
Ranjha called me again next night while I was surfing around and the last night’s pattern followed. I was now in no mood to clear the misunderstanding. On the third night I was ready for him and when he called, I let him listen to the “Bheegey Hont Tere” on my laptop. Man, how he swore.

Next he called me during the day time. When I picked up the phone, he realized, probably for the first time, that the phone number might actually belong to me or maybe I keep Priya’s phone always with me. That should have given him some respite and he should have logically concluded that it’s not wise to infer Priya to be with me during the nights if I pick up the phone always. I can’t say for sure whether love is blind, but Ranjha is definitely dumb.

Ranjha started flooding my mobile with SMS’s now. The plan was to irritate me by flooding the Inbox and force me to call and talk to him. Little did he know that my flat-mates used to call me “Baba” not for nothing. Scratch your nails on the table and I shall smile. Serve me the food of your canteen and I shall gorge. Turn off the fan and I won’t mind. Ranjha must have wasted at least Rs100 that day even with the best of the postpaid plans.

He still calls me sometimes and gets ignored mostly. Once in a while, I experiment if I am in the mood. Till now he has heard the spoon hit against various plates and bowls in my attempts to create music, the flush of the toilet and my futile whistling attempts.

I am not planning to let go of this toy soon, but let me announce the way they do it on Radio “If Priya is reading this blog and her number ends with something similar to 26267, she must contact me to claim a jealous, confused and by now definitely broken-hearted idiot.” Till she contacts me, I would take your requests and suggestions to torture him further. Suggestions like “get a life” would be courteously ignored.

Of course, his misery comes to an end if he introduces himself politely instead of demanding to know who I am and the same has been conveyed to him. But he refuses to learn those basic manners. He should have studied in my school.

Coming up two more tales of the phone in the next post:
1. The one who knew why you called.
2. Bloody Indians in Vegas.

Let me finish with a small incident while I used to stay in Gurgaon. My phone rang and the voice at the other end said “Hello Prashaaanttt” in a typical Delhi accent. I was expecting an invitation-for-Diwali-dinner call from my friend’s mother that day and I eagerly replied with an obedient “Namaste Aunty”. She clarified that she was calling from a bank and so I apologized, as sincerely as I could, while friends around me laughed aloud. She wanted me to have a personal loan from her bank, but by then she had lost the conviction in her voice.

Vagina Monologue

Younger Bro bought an expensive mobile against my pragmatic advice. As is often the case, big brother was right. The mobile would sometime allow only one way communication; that too intermiitently during the same call.

So on the day when this problem surfaced, conversation followed this route :
Bro : Sunaai aa rahan hain terko?? Mujhe nahi aa rahaan but tu bolte rahan.
Me: Ok, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 ..
Bro : Haan aa gaya. ( Then we continued our talk until next intermission happened ).

As the frequency of these interruptions rose, the "filler" sentences evolved from just being enumeration (1,2,3..). Following are some of them :

1. Ek gaav me 2 machuaare rahte the; wo dono Gay the. Fir diploma karne ke liye...
2. Tuwinkal Tuwinkal Littul eeStaar, Haau I vhonder vhaat u aar..
3. Aaj Khali ka dangal hoga vishwa-vijeta Undertaker se. Khali jo ki 7 feet...
4. John , Suprabhat. Machlee pakadne ke liye kitna achcha din hain...(Discovery in Hindi).
5. You got real big brains but I'm looking atchyaa...

This became a part of daily routine. One day Bro had a bad day and to further irritate him , I lied "Awaaz nahi aa rahin". Frustated, he produced the gem :
Bro : Abe Yaar !!! Ab fir shuru karna hogaa Vagina Monologue.