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Saturday, January 21, 2012

Sorry Anna Hazare, this new year I let you down.


Hello folks,

Disclaimer: I swear by Arindham Chaudhary’s literary skills that I won’t talk about my job, given the fact that I crib about it almost every day on facebook.

Okay I know I am 22 days late but as they say better late than never and since this is my first post in the new year so Happy New Year people.

One thing that amazes me about New Years is the way people make a lot of hue and cry about the New Year resolutions and then with most of them (Me included) it fades away in no time. You can attribute various reasons to it but I ‘m sure you would have never heard of what follows:

Of how my new year resolution parted ways with me even before the sun of 1st of January could rise.

First let me tell you what it was all about. Okay we all saw Anna Hazare’s antics the previous year and though I do not totally abide by what he preaches but somewhere within me it did raise questions of contributing my bit to remove corruption from the day to day incidents that I face and so, wearing the metaphorical  “Anna Topi”, I vowed never to bribe anyone for whatsoever reasons.

Act 1 Scene 1, 31st December Night, Chandigarh

After yet another hectic day out in the field in Jalandhar (no not the paddy fields ofcourse), I set out to go to Chandigarh to meet other friends and to be in some company while embracing the new year. It was while I was on my way to Chandigarh, sitting in the erratic Punjab Transport bus going through the bumpier-than-Vidya-Balan’s-body road, that the Anna in me spawned and hence I too had a NYR (Read: New Year Resolution).

After reaching Chandigarh and after meeting  my long lost friends  we had an uninterrupted bashing session which comprised of bash-your-boss and bash-your-job and praise-the-other-guy’s-job-grass-on-the-other-side-greener session for close to an hour and then started the usual booze session. With my pace that night I knew I was up for something really big. I disclosed my NYR with others and they mocked at me and my NYR as if I had told them that my favourite actor in the whole world was Tusshar Kapoor. While others had just got a hang of the booze, I was already on another world by then but still consistent at my pace just like Vinay Kumar’s bowling. At that time I mentioned my NYR again, still not sure if I could actually convey what I wanted to, given the state I was in. At that moment,  we decided to go for a drive in a friend’s car inspite of being alerted by a phattu-friend that it is Chandigarh and full of Police checkposts at night (yes, we guys have this stupid ego of teasing the ghost).

Act 1 Scene 2, Driving through Chandigarh.

We could see a check-post at a distance from inside the car and at that very instance, the song Sadi Gali  started playing. I had carried my bottle inside the car and by then was as normal as Rakhi Sawant is in her interviews. Seeing this, one bastard of a friend threw a gauntlet at me challenging me to get down  of the car when we get close to the check post, show some newly learnt Punjabi dance moves and tease the policemen and come back.

Men will be men.

I was no less a man. Seriously. Question of my ego. I grabbed the challenge with both hands as any batsman in the world does when Sreesanth comes to bowl. The car neared the post. I got down. Went a step ahead. Showed my Bhangra Moves and just when the policeman threw his danda @ me, ran back to the car which had already taken a u-turn by then and got into it thereby showing a middle finger to the policeman(still don’t know why) and we got back, me feeling proud of my achievement and others hilariously laughing.

As we were going from a god-only-knows road, we saw another check-post at a distance.

Instantly and unanimously it was understood that we had to do the same act here too.

Now I hate Marconi, yes the Italian son of a bitch who invented wireless.

We were unaware of the fact the the drama at the previous checkpost had led to the policemen transmitting the message at every other posts alerting them of the colour,make and number of our car.

But by that time, I was as lost from my senses as Mayawati is in the parliament. I took it as an unsaid responsibility on me to repeat my act and just as we could get close to the post, we played Sadi Gali again (Somehow this song just pumps up my dance hormones or should I say used to pump up). I got down. Went ahead, this time a bit more ahead without realizing and started my antics. Before I could understand, there were policemen running from all directions towards me. I ran towards the car which was running ahead of me (buggers realized that it was a trap and were leaving me and running away).

All of us got caught. 

After a slur of MC and BC used as salutation purposes to refer to us, we (being the sales guys we are, oh sorry somewhere I had to mention my profession), taken to the police chowki and on the verge of getting behind the bars, somehow managed to convince the cops by bribing the eight of them a sum of 20 grands.
Half of which had to be shelled out by me, partly because no one else had that much then and partly because I was playing the protagonist.

We returned back home and no one spoke a word again about mine or any goddamn NYR.

I feel sorry for my younger brother who will have to wait for yet another month to get his new handset.

Last but not the least, I am sorry to you, Anna Hazare for letting you down.

P.S: The above narrated incident is a figment of my imagination and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely co-incidental. I also want to use this very occasion to claim that I have been abstaining myself from alcohol and that actually is my NYR.