Tag Archives: Facebook

NaMo TRAVELS TO MARS….

WHEN NEWS OF MARS’S WATER BROKE..

The reported signs of water on Mars has led to fountains of joy erupting across the globe.

In India and outside of social media, the 5 am and 12 midnight firecrackers otherwise meant to wake up toddlers and ailing senior citizens during Diwali and Ganpati festivals, lit up Earth’s sky as news of Mars’s water broke.

The Ministry of External Affairs went into overdrive, looking pretty spaced-out though.

How could a planet highjack attention from the Great Leader who had just concluded his meeting with the Zuck? The thing had actually dropped out of the sky – and that too from a planet that had chosen to be red when it could have been saffron.

The Great Leader however was nonplussed. Outer space begone, this could be turned into a gimmick in the social media space.

Loosening his sweaty  grip and jaado jhappi on Zuck and deploying the full force of nasal passage, he intoned, “It is auspicious. This discovery on Mars coincides with my rediscovery of Mar(k)s.”

On cue, the crowd of 43 NRIs, photo-shopped to look four million, chanted NaMo, NaMo across made-in-China TV screens worldwide. The photoshopper wanted to include a few Martians in the crowd too, but decided otherwise because those darned Martians look green.

NaMo paused, stared into the cameras, wiped three branded tears on his Crocodile kurta and promptly told his team to cancel all forthcoming 18 foreign trips. “I want to go to Mars,” he announced, adding softly from the side of his mouth, “before the Patels get there.”

His crack social media team swung into action, launching (faster than ISRO could say Mangalyaan) the twitter handle NaMoMa (NaMo on Mars). The Great Leader has since then tweeted that part of the funds of the Clean Great River campaign will now to diverted to cleaning up the percholate-y, briny stuff passing off as water on Mars.

He has followed that up with another tweet: Not just funds, but H2O too will be diverted from the Great River to water the slopes of Mars.

The Make in India team has gone into overdrive as well. A crack team has been assembled to build a pipe to carry the water that will go from India to Mars. The pipe, cheap and hardy as all good desi products are, will come from the godown of Indian Pipe Dreams Co.

Congress, on the other hand, is up in arms. Its spokesperson, has just made a daring revelation that the Grand Old Party was the first to discover life on Mars. The Cong spokesperson declared that when the party’s heir apparent RaGa had disappeared and everyone knew not where, he had actually gone to Mars.

Twist in the tale: A revered saint from hinterland has poured water over everyone’s plans.

Mars, he says, is Shani. Which brings bad luck. “Mars jaogey to mar jaogey,” he has warned.

Last heard, our own DeFa has banned the use of the word Mars from all conversations.

In sharp contrast, the local alliance partner of this bad political marriage which also heads the BMC , has moved a resolution to rename Mars.

Meanwhile, NaMo’s teams are busy preparing visa documents for other available ‘auspicious’ planets.

RaGo has asked his distribution team to check if TiNo network will be available in Mars too.

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Life in a Real Concrete Jungle:)

 

What do I do with my son, the moment he wakes up, he says I want to go home, a young mother was complaining, of her seven year old.

“Going home? Doesn’t he live at home with you?” I asked her. Oh no, she said. The moment he wakes up, he clicks his laptop on and, gets into facebook. Farmville. Buys farms., trades animals . “That is his new home”.

Far from the  Madding Crowd.

On a bright and busy Monday morning, my eureka moment had arrived.

Enough of the urban chaos I said to myself. “I am going home too ” I muttered,  loud enough to convince myself. 

It is time I bought myself a farm and traded animals. Since I could not afford it in Gandhi’s India, Farmville and facebook was my new destination.

The space, the privacy, the non intrusion of familiar names seemed far sexy an idea to resist.

 

 

I picked up my headphones,  switched on my laptop and, stepped into the world of Facebook.

I want peace, I said to myself. I can easily find myself some corner where I can sit, catch forty winks or just hum a song. No intrusions.

Facebook, I was told, has hundreds of such corners where I can crawl into.

I opened the facebook door.

Ketan stood there, with a morose look. “Kafan to hain chehre par, lekinj kambhakht maut nahin milti….” (Am shouldering a coffin, in wait, but, death eludes me).

Not a great way to begin, I told myself.

 “Is there an explosion outside Delhi High court”?? frantically questioned Sanjay. I didn’t have the answers. Even if I did, I was running away from people. Wanted space.

Shreyansh had occupied  another window seat. “Groan. I have an upset stomach. Loosies. Groan”.  Deeksha and Siddhartha “liked” it.  Sadists, I muttered.

“My legs, my torso, my legs are all travelling in different directions. Crocin, do your thang”, Mansii was  pleading.  Nobody seemed to care.

I didn’t want to either.

Move on, I told myself. Amrita stood in the next corner. Just smiling. Maybe she was in love. Or maybe out of it.

The next corner I saw Naiji, a close friends sister. “Naiji is building a livestock  pen” She needs woven wire. Help her you will be rewarded. Whets got into Naiji, wasn’t she happy in  her IT job?

Why should I help? Help me, I said to myself.

Even before I could move on, I saw Naiji screaming for help again. “Needs soap dishes for her shower”. Move on, my sixth sense told me. This is getting too personal.

Guys really look way way way hotter with beards, Shilpa was crooning. I looked at my clean shaven chin and the thick greying mouche and wondered if she was taking a dig at me. Move on fast, this corner s not for you either.

In the next cove, Sheetal was looking for more bushels in Farmville and Sanjay was busy wooing Aroona, ‘Happy birthday dear Aroona, Long time no see no hear no do.’

 NO DO?? Wonder what he meant by that!!

Shweta was busy adding a smoke free badge to her profile. There were ten who ‘ l”liked” ‘ the way Sanjay was “Doing” Aroona but hardly any takers for a smoke free city.

Blogger Kiran was an enraged soul in the next lane. “Femina steals a story and uses it without credit”, she  howled. Bloggers of the world unite. Holy shit, said one. I knew they would do it. Said another. Take a chill pill remarked a third.

Somewhere further down, more hell was breaking loose. “My hotmail account has been hacked”, Parsa complained. Don’t write to me on that account.

Suddenly, someone ‘poked’ me. For a moment, I felt I was travelling in a packed-like-sardines all male local train somewhere and had reached Bandra. I dared not ‘poke back’.

I was beginning to worry. For myself. And  whether I would find any space for myself here. “I lost my pet poodle” cried Anamika. Eight people ‘liked” it and three people said. “Oh”, “Where” and “So Sad”.

I began walking faster. Someone had announced he was  married. Two others announced break ups. Many joined the fun.Break-up or Marriage. For facebookers, it was the same.  Liked. Disliked. Comment.

 

Amitabh said he was checking into the Taj lands end. Wondered  whether it was a proposition. Hint hint.

Here I was running away from the concrete jungle. Hoping for a peaceful corner. Round the bend, bumped into  Priyanka seeking donations for  her Jungle habitat in City ville.

Send a donation, and you will win an animal, she was telling the world.

Am I crazy? I have enough auto rickshaw-wallahs of my own to deal with.

“I don’t have a problem with myself. If you have, that’s your problem,” Vivek was shouting. A dirty, I-know-it-all grin on his face.

Somehow, I felt, Vivek’s was trying to tell me something. I had a problem dealing with chaos in the city and was running away from it. Escapist? Maybe. I had to deal with it. Face it. Not Facebook it.

Be a MAN, I told myself.

The chaos within the virtual world was way too deafening then the world outside.

I ‘Power-offed’ my laptop.  It took a few seconds to refocus. I was back in Aamchi Mumbai.

Ugly hoardings of uglier politicians smiled back at me. Loser, they seemed to say.

 

Got into the car. Rolled down the windows. The stench. Suddenly it felt so good to breath real stench. Compared to the virtual confusion.

 I Drove onto the main road. I did not have to ‘join’ the traffic snarl. It was everywhere. “You XX###@@$$” screamed an auto wallah. To another. I smiled.

Honk honk went the bus driver. I smiled. Again. In an attempt to miss the bus, I almost crashed into a pole. My car missed the pole. But not the pot-hole.

The two-hundred meter drive had taken me 45 minutes, a few abuses and a big gash to my car. And a grubby sweating me.

But emerging from the car, I felt  like a Gladiator.  Having battled a real war. Real people. Unlike the moans groans and drones of the virtual world.

Opened the newspaper. An ‘Adarsh’  Chief Minister had disowned his mother-in-law . All because of a flat. A national leader’s politician daughter had been beaten up by her businessman NRI hubby.  An IAS couple had amassed hundreds of crores through corruption. An actor had been charged with rape.Farmers had been beaten black and blue by political goons.

Thank gawd nothing had changed here. The concrete jungle seemed so human.

It is so good to be back home.:)

ends