Its your thing

Let me use my five minutes of fame to speak from my soapbox about the personal attacks directed at me.

I use my blog to talk about things that do not need to be on a forum for uninhibited discussion.

I started writing PhatPhatiya posts in RangRasiya India Forums as my way of enjoying the show. A group of my friends from Iss Pyar Ko Kya Naam Doon days started watching Rangrasiya. A quintessential Sanaya fan that I am, it did not take much convincing to start watching the show.

Then Ashish Sharma appeared smoking hot in his dashing moustache and I was a gonner! Can you believe my joy? I had two very beautiful people acting opposite each other, what more could I ask from the Gods of daily soaps? I am no stranger to Sanaya's acting prowess but Ashish proved ac complete surprise package, providing an excellent counterfoil to Sanaya with his own turbocharged acting. I knew I had found my new source of Desi entertainment.

I did not begin writing PhatPhatiya posts (PPP) to cater to a segment or a type of people. I certainly did not write it expecting either Ashish Sharma or Sanaya Irani would read it. I began writing them for my writing pleasure and for sharing it with a few friends with whom I share a long history on the forum.

It was an honor and surprise when I came to know that Ashish reads the PPP and found them hilarious. He was even kind enough to make a mention of it in one of the IF vid-segments. I would be lying if I don't admit that it got me excited and left me pleased that I could bring a smile to a hardworking actor. It meant nothing more or nothing less. It didn't change my paycheck, nor did it get me a promotion.

If Ashish or Sanaya stop reading my posts tomorrow, I am not going to stop writing. I am not changing my style to cater to anyone's sensibilities. I would have gladly changed what I write, were I getting paid to do this work or had Ashish or Sanaya requested directly to me. I would have honored their request as a matter of courtesy and as a show of my respect for the actors. But they haven't and they won't because they have better things to do.

Frankly, they are very different people from me, we belong to different age groups, we live different lives on different continents, and most certainly hold different value systems. While some of these values, ideals and thoughts may intersect, I have no trouble sleeping at night knowing that Ashish or Sanaya do not enjoy one or all PhatPhatiya posts. More importantly, that knowledge does not reduce my enjoyment of watching the show or writing PPP. Most importantly, it does not reduce my absolute respect and love for the two actors and their good work. I will continue to admire them and follow their shows for as long as they produce great work. 

So, here is my appeal to those who resort to personal attacks for my writing -  Quit worrying about my Five Minutes of Fame on the forum. I could not care less about it. I do not visit the forum thinking its going to make me famous and get me truckloads of dollars. Its how I kill time between work, school, personal business and family. In fact, I hate myself for even writing this piece in my blog, because its giving too much credence to a handful of irritating detractors. 

If I can continue to bring a smile to Ashish or Sanaya, I'd be happy but I would not sweat over what they think about me or my posts. Just as the characters that Ashish or Sanaya portray do not define who they are in real life, my writing does not portray who I am in real life. I could be a Starbucks Barista struggling to make a living or a Senior Manager in a Fortune 500 making a six figure salary. There is no telling.

I have a fairly strong appetite for off kilter humor, which you may not have in common with me and that is fine. I follow David Chapelle as comedic icon, that tells you something. If you see one of his shows, you either come out scandalized or become a fan forever.

I have had a great time in India Forums, with some silly, goofy, funny posts and some old and new friends, whom I will continue to cherish more than any celebrity endorsement. I am certainly not fishing or posing for any compliments from famous personalities. At the same time, I will be honest, if they do enjoy my quirky pen, it makes me happy. 

However, none of this is a life changing event or a reward in itself. The true rewards in life are found when you do something meaningful for those around you. I find solace and peace in volunteering at the local soup kitchen or helping a struggling disadvantaged college student with his resume. None of what happens on Rangrasiya, or its TRPS have any bearing on my real life. None are causative or solution to my daily challenges and rewards.

Have fun, do your own unique thing and go about enjoying your life. God bless.

Its your thing, do what you wanna do...

Chapter 1 - The landing

The white uniform was killing Ram Gopal. The heat of April coupled with the stress of the arrival of a new boss did not let up any pressured on him. The murky loudspeaker announced a garbled message declaring the arrival of JanJeevan express - a good three hours late. Ram Gopal wiped his forehead and snapped to attention.

"Abbey, keep an eye out for officer, I will look in this direction and you look in that direction." he barked at the Coolie, who was squatting on the ground waiting for the new arrivals.

The massive steel and chugging body of the train engine slowed into the platform. The army of vendors on the station began their sing song advertisement of diarrhea inducing snacks and foods. The coolies ran along the train peeking into windows to trap potential customers. The train halted with labor and puffed out a sigh of relief in form of freshly burnt diesel smoke.

"The A/C car is in that end. Hurry up." Ram Gopal informed the small group of khakhi clad office bearers who had all come to welcome their new boss. The small attachee ran with renewed purpose to make their fresh impressions.

The Ticket Master opened the door to the A/C compartment. One of the more ambitious khakhi clad lad named Sohan Badkul jumped in for the treasure hunt. As the reception party milled around, garland and cameras in hand, a portly commanding woman dressed starched cotton saree draped in Gujurati style bobbed her head out of one of the windows.

"There's Madamji!" some one shouted as the group rushed to the door and signaled Madamji to come out. The chubby cheeks of the woman bunched in a smile as she nodded. She was now at the door as the group took turns to touch her feet, cameras clicked and welcome serenade poured. She folded her hands in namaste and smiled at the crowd as she got down the train steps. Garlands piled around her short fat neck, mostly hiding her chin. She took the over her head and spoke, "Dhanyavad, Thank you, for the kind welcome. Khushi is behind me. You may want to resuse these garlands to welcome your new District Collector, Khushi Kumari Gupta. She is my neice you know." She handed them the garlands back with a cheeky smile.

The embarrassment was evident. Someone grabbed the garlands to put them to better use as another figure emerged from the door. Ram Gopal's jaws dropped on the floor.

He had never seen a girl so beautiful. For she was a girl, no more than 25 and he had never reported to such a young female boss. He realized his mouth was hanging open when a railway station fly sat on the edge of his lips, hoping to pick the fresh pan from his teeth. Sohan was visibly excited, thanking his MatharDeo (Shiva) for sending in such a beautiful sight for his sore eyes. The small village of Sarnapur could use a lovely breath of fresh air.

Khushi smiled at the small coterie. Her mind was dreading the stay at Sarnapur, far from civilization, far from New Delhi, far from Karan and far from her parents. The motley crew standing to rapt attention on the platform filled her with a distinct desire to turn back and run straight to New Delhi.

Oh, Crap! Subserviance and chamchagiri! Small mindedness, illiterate people. Do you know how bad its going to be? she remembered screaming at Karan, when she had found her posting to Sarnapur.

Think of it this way. You will be the boss, power, glory and complete control of the administration. Karan had reasoned.

No way! They barely get phone signals and of course, I want to serve the nation but can't I do that in some urban area? 

Nope, my love. Villages are the heartlands of India. Start at the bottom and you will know what India is.

Karan had a way with words. Khushi didn't have a choice, even if she wanted to. As a recent graduate of Indian Administrative Services (IAS) she had the choice of being an assistant district collector in a big town or run a smaller district will complete ownership. Topping her class of IAS gave her the choice and she took up Sarnapur, without thinking. This was her first real posting and as the impending events unfolded, she just wanted to hide under covers of her comfortable Rajai in the Delhi apartment of her parents. She looked at the group and her heart sank. The pan crusted teeth, sweaty faces and illiterate smiles killed her.

Buffoons! 

"Madam, ji welcome. Hope you found your journey comfortable. Please!" Mangal Singh, one of the head office clerks stepped forward, stealing the thunder of Sohan who had just emerged from the train wagon trying to locate Khushi.

Khushi stepped down and extended her hand to shake hands with the man. He folded his hands instead and she cringed at her faux pas. She folded hers in a "namaste"

"I am Mangal Singh, your first office secretary. This is Sohan Badkul, head peon and this is Ram Gopal, your driver. This is...." and so the introductions went. Each member tried to garland Khushi and each time she just took the "mala" in her hand. Sohan wanted to shake hands when she did Namaste, while Ram Gopal wanted to do Namaste when she figured she should just shake hands. The confusion was completed and Khushi felt the urge to drink water.

"We ran out of water..." she didn't complete the sentence before one of the strapping young man dressed in polyester shirt and pants ran to the nearest stall and grabbed a few bottles of mineral water.

Khushi fished her purse to pay the vendor, when the polyester man stopped her, "No, Madamji, he wont take money. Don't worry. You are our guest. Let it be"

Khushi insisted but her protest was drowned by the loud burp of the train. As the train signaled its intent to leave the station, Khushi turned to Mangal, "Our luggage?"

"All taken care of Madamji" he smiled under his thin linear moustache that ended in symmetrical short upward curves on either ends. She found her aunt, Madhumati directing the Coolie and getting the luggage carted to the exit. Madhumati loved the role of running a bevy of household help and domestic servants. She' immediately found her niche, khushi smiled.

The train pulled off the station as the reception party made its way to the station exit. Khushi glanced back at the leaving train.

My life is going to be hell. Sarnapur, here I come