From right to left: Her reactions as she walked in. The poster was literally over his face when she first came in. Yeah, poor Shonali’s face has been digitally altered to protected her identity, on request! He he! *evil grin*
If you don’t know what this all about, read the post below!
If you don’t already know, we have a notorious record of bullying her.
We in fact, once made her talk to John Abraham.
A week before her budday:
We were keen to play a joke on her budday. Though it would have been a cakewalk if we used another personality, we wanted to challenge ourselves. How about making her believe she’s going to meet John Abraham again. And on her budday.
Why would she believe it coming from me? Or from anyone if it involves John Abraham?
Thursday evening:
We took boss into confidence and told him about our plan of creating an assignment for Shonali on her budday. We ll print the invite for the interview with John Abraham on a letter head of some PR firm, we said. Get a real PR firm to give us their letter head, he suggested.
We then called S from PR firm Pratika. S was a friend, she knew Shonali too. She was more than game. And excited too. I’ll get working right away and fax it to the Deputy Ed by noon tomorrow she said.
Fast Track and Castrol were products he was endorsing but he could also be in town for promoting Taxi No. 9211 we told her. Details are necessary because a journalist always does homework before the interview.
Friday, a little after noon:
S says she’s faxed it.
We tell boss and he says maybe we have to make it more believable now. He would assign it to Shonali’s colleague M and she would turn it down on the excuse that she has someother work and pass it on to Shonali to cover.
So we took M into confidence. Now, M is one of Shonali’s very good buddies and sits right next to her. “She hates surprises. She’s gonna be really hurt,” she said. “Too bad, the plan is on. The trap is set. You have to do this,” we told her.
M and Shonali are in meeting with Boss when Boss hands over the fax to M asking her to do it. M we heard was a brilliant actor, turning it down saying “For once, you’ve given me a good assignment but I can’t do this because Im going to Pondy. Let Shonali do it,” she said.
It turns out that Shonali didn’t want that extra assignment on her budday since she already had one in the evening. But then, this was John, so maybe she was secretly thrilled because she didn’t show it out.
As Boss told us, “She didn’t seem too keen in the beginning, maybe because she was second choice.” But her sister, who also works with us, assured us that she probably was just a little bummed about having to work a little more on her budday.
Friday evening:
S messages us saying Shonali has fallen for it. “But she asked why Barista, Khader Nawaz Khan Road? Won’t he get mobbed?”
Maybe Shonali was getting suspicious. And soon enough, she called me. Before I could take it, she cut the line. A few minutes later, I called her back. Engaged.
Did she find out?
So I message her: “Happy Birthday Shonali. Almost forgot.”
She calls back in a coupla minutes. “Idiot. Is this how you wish people for their budday?”
“No, I tried calling, it was busy.”
“Ok (laughs) my Budday is tomorrow anyway,” she says.
“Oh! I thought today was 4th.”
“No, it’s tomorrow.”
“Ah!”
“Okay, tell me what is John Abraham doing tomorrow?” she asks.
“John? You mean Abhishek (given that I made her talk to Abhishek last time around making her believe it was John Abraham)… He has some Ad Club awards tomorrow (the awards were only on March 9 but how would she know)”
“No, idiot. I’m meeting the real John Abraham tomorrow,” she says.
“Yeah right”
“No, seriously, listen. Im doing an interview,” she beams.
I’m grinning, but that, she cant see over phone. We announce it to everyone at work.
Saturday
Shonali tells every single person who’s called to wish her from 12 that she’s meeting John Abraham.
“I thought it was destiny,” she told us later at Barista. “That John was coming down for my birthday.”
As she leaves home, her Mom tells her: “You are going to meet John. Dress up” (Yeah, even the Mom knew)
She asks the photography department to send a photographer for the interview (Yes, we took the photography chief into confidence too!)
She calls S from Pratika to check if the interview is on. “Yes, it’s exclusive only for you. They don’t want any other media. So please don’t tell anyone,” says S.
Half an hour before the designated time:
I message Shonali asking where the assignment was taking place. “N wants to do an interview for the Times. When and where are you meeting John?”
Shonali calls back to yell at me: “You idiot… Why did you have to tell N. It’s an exclusive interview only for us. M came to know about it somehow and asked me to do it.”
“Oh, Im sorry. I’ll tell N you didn’t reply back,” I say, picking up the John Abraham poster at Archies, still grinning. I meet a coupla friends there and tell them about the prank. “Oh yeah, she was bragging about it this morning,” says one. “Awrite then, come over to Barista,” I say.
Soon, we are at Barista. Abhishek, who’s now so used to being called John (I’ve saved his number in my phone as John Abraham, just to use it as a readymade prank on strangers), is ready with an issue of Filmfare that says: “How to proposition John Abraham” on the cover. The poster was his idea. There it was, this topless picture of John, all sweat and muscle.
John also got a cake ready for her. I made a last minute Book of Ugly Pictures album with the junk photographs we get at the office of ugly celebrities, wannabes and criminals from the Police reporter’s beat. Another colleague S got her a birthstone. We put all our gifts into a pink bag and waited.
Soon, the photographer walked in (courtesy Chief of Photography) thinking John was showing up. He had even seen the movie and was so keen to meet John. He couldn’t believe it was a prank. But we told the Chief, we explained to him. Apparently, the chief was in a good mood to send a photographer to cover Shonali’s surprise.
So there we were, all ready. Shonali was delayed by Boss as they made her cut a cake and her immediate boss offered to have her dropped at the assignment venue because she was late. Shonali was nervous. She was late, she couldn’t prepare enough because she was dragged in to cut the cake at Boss’s room.
As soon as she got out of the car, she ran in to see S from Pratika waiting at the door. “Is he here,” Shonali asks anxiously. “Yes,” says S ushering her in.
Shonali walks in. We sing. Abhishek is wearing that John Abraham poster on him.
Slowly it sinks in, she’s embarassed but smiling so wide you can’t see her eyes. She walks over to John’s poster and covers her face, still laughing. She then playfully keeps hitting Abhishek before going on to give him a hug. We make her pose for pictures. “You know where this is going,” I tell her.
Yeah, here.
A few minutes later, M walks in to apologise. And then Boss. Our photographer was such a sport, he kept clicking endlessly… some 31 pictures in 30 minutes. Too bad Shonali doesn’t want them here. Can we have some public demand please.
So to further embarass her, we sing Happy Budday three times during our stay there and each time specifying “Happy Budday Dear Shonali Muthalaly of The Hindu”…
“This is better than the real John Abraham,” she said, despite her embarassment. “I wasn’t really prepared. But I came ready with questions. What actors ya, all of you.”
How can you even think John’s coming to town exactly on your budday? “Well, I knew I couldn’t trust this one (pointing at me) but how did I know I couldn’t trust my Boss,” she said.
“I thought it was destiny that John and me meet on my budday.”
Destiny indeed. To be fooled twice. This time by the “real” John Abraham.
I fell off the chair laughing reading this take on Zinda. The best review I’ve ever read, thanks to Spotboy.
Also, the He Says She Says column has been updated finally with the last three episodes that we missed out to post earlier.
Sagaro brought to my attention this new blog that deserves to be read.
He was the shoulder. Not the doormat. He knew the difference. But sometimes, it’s easier to be the doormat.
Like this time.
When people around him very busy falling in and out of love, getting married, separated, raising kids, aborting them, he lived a life in thought bubbles.
The bubble was the home he built for his future with the most perfect girl he had brushed shoulders with. She was perfect, or at least, he thought so.
The right girl, in all the wrong situations.
Distance, for one. And, there was ex-boyfriend baggage.
He liked even the fact that she still liked the ex-boyfriend. Imagine how much love she had with her to give even after someone didn’t really need it badly enough.
So he remained the shoulder, feeling protective. Feeling like a warrior who can handle anything now that he had what he wanted to keep him going, right by his side. He felt stronger. The more the weight on his shoulder, the stronger he felt.
She became his armour.
There were of course the periodic spells when he would lose that armour and feel weak but he understood that she needed her space too.
She loved her ex-boyfriend. It was her true love. She couldn’t stop loving him, even if he wasn’t strong enough to love her for what she was. Even if the situations were all wrong. And every time reality hit her, she would retire back to the shoulder. She would return to be his
armour.
And one day, the ex-boyfriend got married, forced into it by the system. No fault of <!– D([“mb”,”weakness that required strength, a whole of strength enough to give up
on the love of his life.
Ashamed of himself, he pleaded to her, hopelessly: "Anybody, but the
warrior. He\’s a thief. He gave you his shoulder just to put his arm
around"
"It\’s none of your business," she told him.
And, she returned to the shoulder again.
But then, she told the warrior: "He didn\’t love me enough to fight for me. But
it is true that I love him. I realised how much I loved him only when
I lost him. I will love him forever."
The warrior was heart-broken, of course. But he said, "It\’s okay. You
can still have the shoulder." He wasn\’t being a saint, he was plain
selfish. He needed the
armour.
She was happy, as happy as possible, given the situation.
He was happy too, as happy as possible, given the situation.
The warrior\’s friend found this ridiculous. "You\’re selfish,"
he told her.
That shook her up, totally. He knew it wasn\’t true. He needed her as
much as she needed him.
"I must leave," she told the warrior.
"I\’ll wait," he said.
"Don\’t," she said, never to return ever again.
With the armour withdrawn, the warrior saw himself facing the brunt of
the battle he had called for, all upon himself.
Years passed, the warrior lived on. His wounds healed.
His hair turned a lil grey. He was wise now, or so he thought, often looking
at his scars, smiling to himself.
Over the years, he had lent his shoulder to more damsels-in-distress
too, knowing pretty well that they would all be gone, even before he knew
it. They always left.
He would make stories out of them, just to distance himself from the
episodes and laugh heartily recollecting the good old days.
"A shoulder for that many years?? Will you do it again," asked a little boy.
“,1] ); //–> his, except for his weakness. But this was a weakness that required strength, a whole of strength enough to give up on the love of his life.
Ashamed of himself, he pleaded to her, hopelessly: “Anybody, but the warrior. He’s a thief. He gave you his shoulder just to put his arm around.”
“It’s none of your business,” she told him.
And, she returned to the shoulder again.
But then, she told the warrior: “He didn’t love me enough to fight for me. But it is true that I love him. I realised how much I loved him only when I lost him. I will love him forever.”
The warrior was heart-broken, of course. But he said, “It’s okay. You can still have the shoulder.” He wasn’t being a saint, he was plain selfish. He needed the armour.
She was happy, as happy as possible, given the situation.
He was happy too, as happy as possible, given the situation.
The warrior’s friend found this ridiculous. “You’re selfish,” he told her.
That shook her up, totally. He knew it wasn’t true. He needed her as much as she needed him.
“I must leave,” she told the warrior.
“I’ll wait,” he said.
“Don’t,” she said, never to return ever again.
With the armour withdrawn, the warrior saw himself facing the brunt of the battle he had called for, all upon himself.
Years passed, the warrior lived on. His wounds healed.
His hair turned a lil grey. He was wise now, or so he thought, often looking at his scars, smiling to himself.
Over the years, he had lent his shoulder to more damsels-in-distress too, knowing pretty well that they would all be gone, even before he knew it. They always left.
He would make stories out of them, just to distance himself from the episodes and laugh heartily recollecting the good old days.
“A shoulder for that many years?? Will you do it again,” asked a little boy.
<!– D([“mb”,”
"No," he smiled. "I\’m too old for this. Besides, there are too many
people in this world who can use this shoulder. I cannot afford to
waste that much time on one person anymore," chuckled the warrior.
And one day as he straddled around the world, a princess who had heard
of him, came over to see him..
"May I have a word with you," she asked.
"I must be dreaming," he muttered to himself. "Get lost, you\’re an
illusion," he said.
She went away, knowing little that she had carelessly left her ear-ring behind.
He woke up to see the ear-ring. He realised what he had done. He
actually sent away someone who wanted to talk to him.
Months later, he saw her again. He gave her ear-ring back. They spoke.
They enjoyed each other\’s company.
Life was good.
The shoulder had a new occupant. The warrior had a new armour.
The ghosts came back. She had an ex-boyfriend too. She lived far away too.
What would he do?
He smiled, put his arm around her, willing to fight the world.
All over again.
“,0] ); //–>
“No,” he smiled. “I’m too old for this. Besides, there are too many people in this world who can use this shoulder. I cannot afford to waste that much time on one person anymore,” chuckled the warrior.
And one day as he straddled around the world, a princess who had heard of him, came over to see him..
“May I have a word with you,” she asked.
“I must be dreaming,” he muttered to himself. “Get lost, you’re an illusion,” he said.
She went away, knowing little that she had carelessly left her ear-ring behind.
He woke up to see the ear-ring. He realised what he had done. He actually sent away someone who wanted to talk to him.
Months later, he saw her again. He gave her ear-ring back. They spoke.
They enjoyed each other’s company.
Life was good.
The shoulder had a new occupant. The warrior had a new armour.
The ghosts came back. She had an ex-boyfriend too. She lived far away too.
What would he do?
He smiled, put his arm around her, willing to fight the world.
All over again.
He says:
“No man can be friends with a woman whom he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her,” said a wise man called Harry Burns when he met Sally Albright.
“Yes, that’s right, they can’t be friends. Unless both of them are involved with other people, then they can,” Harry explained.
It’s been 17 years since he said that and yet women don’t seem to have really got the hang of what he means. They actually believe that the guy who calls every single day and goes out of his way to help her is “so sweet” and (wants to be) just friends.
Oh! Please! Men surely have better things to do than play guardian angel. Like it’s their new full-time job or mission statement for life.
Now, let’s consider for a minute the profile of these guys who do that.
a. He is single. Obviously, otherwise, he would be running around to get his own girl to like him.
b. He is not her type. Because, if he was, she would have seen through his desperate attempts to woo her.
c. He has friends who believe, or in some cases, KNOW that he likes her more than a friend.
d. He does not have another girl that he finds attractive as a friend. Because if he did, he would be doing that for her too.
e. He is the initiator… the guy who takes the effort to make conversation, at least most of the time.
Is that some sort of a co-incidence now that they somehow meet all those traits?
Fat chance. The truth is women like the attention they get, they don’t want to say `No’ to it or confront him because they don’t want to lose the benefits. Besides, till the guy has said it, you can always just be “friends”.
It is high time these do-gooder gentlemen woke up to see that if she hasn’t seen his love in all that he has done for her, she’s probably blind. Or plain dumb.
She says:
And men, of course, are assuming that women are really taken in by the `let’s be friends’ gag?
`Friendship,’ my poor misguided young male puppets, is sometimes just a convenient way for women to make cow-eyes at you over canteen Cokes, or three course dinners. You might think you have the upper hand, but you’re just being checked out to see if you are date worthy.
Because when a women is `just friends’ with a guy, she gets a sneak peek at how he really thinks, behaves and relates to other people. (Pssst. A word of advice. Act snotty with the waiter and you’re out in the cold.)
More important, being able to say, “we’re just good friends, ya” lets you off the hook, when nosy friends start prodding you for details, and your mother begins to plan a June wedding in her head.
In fact, Indian ingenuity has come up with an even better way of concealing a relationship that’s too young and unsteady to announce. The “He’s like my brother,” and `She’s like my sister’ story makes it so easy for all those totally unrelated siblings to watch sunsets hand-in-hand with nobody getting suspicious and tracing family trees. But, please remember, it doesn’t work this way with everybody. Of course, men and women can be friends. Otherwise, imagine what a warped world this would be.
Men need their women friends. For one, men have terrible taste when it comes to picking out clothes or solitaires for their girlfriends, and can always do with some female guidance. Besides, female company keeps men civilised. Look at what happened in William Golding’s “Lord Of the Flies”, where a bunch of boys abandoned on an island began to eat each other!
And yes, women need their male friends too. They give us a man’s perspective on life, making it easier to understand boyfriends. They are generally completely chilled out, which makes them easy to hang out with. And they’re useful at times when you need someone to carry your shopping, help you move furniture into a new house, or get rid of an over zealous admirer.
Boyfriends are nice to have around, but guy friends are essential.
He says:
Who’s scared of commitment?
Women. At least, initially.
And, only after women get over that phobia do men catch it.
Because, being all heart, men like to dive head over heels into romance. They love the courting period. The honeymoon phase when she dresses up for him gives him his space and does not ask too many questions. In fact, she doesn’t want to label it anything.
It can’t get any rosier than this with an unlimited supply of love, no strings attached.
You ditch your buddies to spend time with the girl and suddenly, you’re not one of the losers at the bar. The girl’s friends want to get to know you too and before you know it, you’re a stud. You like it when she actually blushes when her friends talk about you to her. You are always at your best because you’re trying to make her fall in love with you everyday. It’s easily the best phase of romance because it is unconditional love.
Fast forward: A few months later.
She stops dressing up, wants to know where you are every time she calls and why you didn’t take her call in the middle of the night, while you were sleeping. She thinks getting a gift from you is too routine and soon enough, you realise the futility of pampering her. You are taken for granted.
Her life completely starts revolving around yours. She loses touch with her friends because they are busy trying to keep their respective boyfriends on a leash. So much so that now you have to ditch her if you want to spend an evening with friends and if you don’t, you become a hen-pecked loser.
A serious relationship mostly spells the death of freedom for men. Maybe that’s why they turn commitment-phobic.
For the same reasons no one wants to go to prison.
She says:
The thing is men are a little like cell phones.
As soon as you settle for the best looking model in the market, a nicer one comes along. It even has many more features than your old model. And before you know it, you’re thinking of trading it/him in. Especially when the old one starts to malfunction (i.e. It stops bringing you flowers and starts walking around in sloppy old T-shirts).
No wonder commitment is so difficult. For women.
Which makes you wonder why every other man you know seems to be whining about how his girlfriend is getting obsessive.
Take a case study. An average man will walk around for weeks with a face as long as a horse, begging for an introduction to some girl he’s probably just heard about.
Once he meets her, he goes overboard, gushing about how wonderful she is, sending her flowers, ringing her up twenty times a day, introducing her to all his friends and insisting on meeting all her pals.
If she stays cold and aloof, that’s wonderful. He’ll climb every mountain, search every stream, and follow every rainbow till she gives in. But, if she’s stupid enough to admit she likes him, puts his number on speed dial and starts treating him like a boyfriend, that’s the end of the relationship. (Ever wondered why `playing hard to get’ is every woman’s favourite game?)
But just as things start working out, he’s walking around with that hangdog expression again, complaining about being “tied down” and calling himself a hen pecked loser.
A guy like that’s a loser all right, but it has nothing to do with the `hen’.
And it’s exactly at that point his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend starts her market research again.
Something every woman is forced to keep doing till she finds The One. And, the thing is, he may not really be the richest, or the smartest, or the funniest man she’s ever met.
But if he’s grown up enough to realise that freedom is just a state of mind, and that he’s found a relationship he’s happy enough to stay in, that makes him an irreplaceable model. One that never gets outdated.
And that’s something even Nokia can’t top.
He says:
Which girl will actually go on record and agree `Diamonds are a girl’s best friend’? It’s another thing that she will feel on top of the world when you get her that stone. And proverbs do not happen for no reason unless there’s some universal truth attributed to it over the ages. Whether they agree or not, women do have sophisticated, exquisite (read expensive), classy taste. Some are good at concealing it, some aren’t as smart.
But seriously, there is nothing wrong about it really. It’s completely ok to admit you have classy, sophisticated, exquisite taste. After all, if they did not have a refined sensibility, why would they go out with men in the first place? A man, on the other hand, does not really need a diamond for a best friend. He will be equally happy if you buy him a beer or better still, if you just give it to him in any other kind. The kinder the better, actually (wink wink). Yes, it is much easier for a woman to please a man than it is for a man to please a woman. Men are happy with the simplest of things.
Whether it is a thoughtful SMS in the middle of the night or even when they are pulled up for coming late or returning her call late. They feel good to be wanted. To be loved. The smallest of gestures are enough to make him happy. The question, however, still remains as to why do men move heaven and earth to please the woman? Because, men remember that wonderful credit card campaign: One five-star dinner: 1,000 bucks. A diamond: 10,000 bucks. The smile on her face when you give that to her: Priceless.
She says:
That’s a totally untrue — not to mention appalling — statement to make. Diamonds are certainly not a girl’s best friend.
There’s also platinum. And antique gold jewellery studded with rubies and emeralds. Oh, and we mustn’t leave out designer crystal necklaces. Or… gasp… shoes. Stylish sneakers for the day. Strappy red stilettos for the night. Handbags for lunching. Evening bags for clubbing. That 12th pair of must-have pink Capris…
To reduce it to diamonds just seems so insincere.
Yeah. Yeah. I know that at this point I’m supposed to sigh endearingly and say the material world just doesn’t matter. And a woman is only interested in the heart that beats under that Tommy Hilfiger shirt, not the wallet that accompanies it. Gag.
But honestly, a man who believes that probably reads Mills and Boon romances in his spare time, even as he waits patiently for a `demure rose’ to flutter her eyelashes at him across a cappuccino bar someday.
The thing is every Rose, Renee and Reenaa sipping a low-fat caramel macchiato in a coffee shop is waiting too. But they’re looking for the `complete man’ and any old thing with a warm heart and last season’s trousers just won’t cut it.
That’s what happens when you have sophisticated, exquisite (read expensive), classy taste. (By the way, the Bluebeards among us needn’t start popping open their Moet Chandon just yet. A nice guy with a skinny bank account is still far more attractive than a shallow, mean or nasty man with a yacht.)
Sure, women are materialistic. And most men, I must admit, aren’t. Give a guy a two-paragraph limerick for his birthday and he’ll be thrilled to bits. Try passing that off on a woman and you won’t remember what happened after her Prada handbag crashed through the roof of your skull.
The good news? Today’s girls aren’t really waiting for you to wrestle open your wallet and start buying solitaires. They buy their own diamonds. And platinum. And cars. (Mostly because they don’t trust your taste).
You just need to stand around looking stylish and reasonably rich. Now that’s not too much to ask, is it?
(A fortnightly column on the battle of the sexes.)
MADRAS INK. 