www.judgepeople.com

370b303e1460d2691d353ec28f613396.jpgSo apparently just like you are asked to rate your Ola/Uber drivers..they are expected to rate you too.

The desire to be liked is so strong that I found myself shamelessly peering over my driver’s shoulder to see what rating had he given me and I must admit feeling very relieved to have gotten a five star rating. He probably gave that to everybody but the whole episode got me thinking – How many people are rating me ?

My grocer? My gardner? My hairstylist?

What do they write in the additional comments ?

Talks too little.

Does not receive phone calls.

Does not dress Indian enough.

Loves Methi (Fenugreek). Hates Pumpkin.

 Gets too impatient when late.

Wrinkles up her nose if the cab smells stale.

(Actually I also look closely at the cushioning – ONCE I FOUND BLOOD STAINS  which got my head caught up in a tornado imagining dead rotting bodies in the boot and what not)

Anyway I digress.

I imagine all the star ratings and comments going into a giant database that tells you a little something about a billion people.

In the future you could look for partners like you look for hotels. Log in to http://www.judgepeople.com (I checked – the domain name is available) and type in your requirement. Add the number of minimum stars four or five. Select criteria like patience. Generosity. Loves kissing in the backseat of a car. And press search.

And you have your perfect match.

Not choosing people solely on their profile pictures and their self commentary but actual ratings by actual people that they deal with every day of their lives.

You could choose someone based on your mutual love for cinema hall popcorn or karela as reported by the vegetable vendor on the app. Or computer games as reported by the techie guy.

If someone is good to the taxi driver I bet there is a high likelihood of him being an overall nice person.

I know one thing though. I am not letting my auxiliary staff get onto that app whenever that is made. I’d be in negative within three minutes.

On the bright side  – everyone would try to be their brightest sweetest best everywhere they go in the hope of a good rating.

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National Threesome Day

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Over the years it has become increasingly apparent that Independence Day is a day of formalities,reiterations and make believe. And we have all learned to continue the farce of patriotism while stabbing our fellow nationals in the back in the self righteous name of religion, caste and food habits. Yet I am at the end of the day an idealist and still continue to hope for the best which every new decade promises.

So instead of delving deep into our Indian inadequacies I prefer these days to focus on the quirks.

Because the quirks – oh the quirks –  they define us.

They are not only highly entertaining but wonderfully stupid making us almost lovably psychotic.

Have you ever noticed (at least it holds true in the city I live in)that all through the year the average motorbike capacity is 1 or 2 people ( or at the most maybe a kid )seated sanely heads down? The head down position is mainly to avoid eye contact with the police since the rider is mostly helmetless. Unless the helmet is being carried by the pillion – in which case the rider is proudly riding chin up and the pillion slips the helmet on and off at every traffic light.

But I digress.

Suddenly on 15th Aug (and on 26th January) the rules of the average 2 wheeler capacity change. Independence day is suddenly a day when 3 guys are on a bike.

Like the day implies independence in all forms.

No judgements to be passed.

Explore the limits of your fantasies.

And apparently the fantasies of adult Indian men include unnecessary flag waving, yelling like maniacs, whistling, littering but most important of all – RIDING THREESOME.

2 boys can’t be friends on National Threesome day.

It has to be an odd number.

3 or 5 or 7.

Thus ensuring 1 out of every 2 or 3 bikes you will see is laden with 3 men. Yesterday I actually counted 40 such combinations. I kid you not.

And you are welcome. I do my bit for the country. Taking surveys of madness is also a service before anyone objects to my pastime.

The excitement in their voices. The glee in their eyes. The glow on their faces.

I tell you – 1 day patriotism does more for their complexion than all the ‘Fair and Lovely’ creams in the world.

Patriotism is like a drug with all the high and absolutely no dependence whatsoever.

You can indulge in it on 1 or 2 days of the year and float blissfully through the rest of the year without a freaking care in the world even if the country is falling apart.

And it is Free.

Free.

Free.

No wonder they play the National Anthem at every cinema hall. It does pep up our mood thus making sure people get through third degree torture like When Harry met Sejal without killing strangling the person beside them.

In fact if cinema hall owners have a house full movie or trains/flights are overbooked and they want to accommodate more people I suggest they play the national anthem 3 or 4 times and distribute the national flag.

The patriotism might motivate people to sit 3 in a seat in a patriotic threesome.

Happy Threesome Day everyone.

Completely random thoughts 

We vent on Facebook. We tell stories, we confess, we argue, we cry, we reminisce, we forgive, we declare relationship statuses and we sob when they change, we outline our lives from childhood to date, we even express our suicidal intentions. It just occurred to me – Facebook is the new age shrink. Minus the quintessential sofa and the low soft voice mouthing the hackneyed line “How are we today?”

Whaaaat ? 1

This is a new series.

Short accounts of things I have seen or have happened – things that surprise me or shock me or make me say – whaaaaat?

Some of these things happened ages ago – some I have already posted on Facebook – or scribbled somewhere and found them recently.

So this is from 2012

“Just watched a guy go down in one knee, slip a diamond ring on the girl’s finger, plant a kiss on her cheek and then say nonchalantly ‘ Happy Birthday’. Am I missing something or what? That gesture used to mean a proposal in the good ol days – when did it turn into a teenage surprise BUDDAY gift idea? “

Money Money Money

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I was chatting with a friend of mine about money. About how much is enough and how our entire lives are about earning to get rich or to get richer, whether the hours we work are justified and what kind of savings we have.

Anyone telling you that they work 20 hours a day at a corporate ONLY because they love the job and not for the money need a drum of hot coffee poured on them to wake them up from their delusions.

The only way to tell if you really love your job – is to be working merrily at a place where you don’t get paid or get paid peanuts.

I don’t get most people’s idea of wealth anyway.

To me – There is only one type of true wealth – and you can tell by one question.

If I absolutely want anything now – could I potentially buy it?

Literally anything. A helicopter. A Private island. A trip to the moon.

Anything less than that is not wealth.

It’s just money.

500 and 2000 rupee notes. That is all it is. 

Your so called wealth could be demonetized in a day if Modi gets a second wind.

So 10 lacs or a 100 lacs doesn’t matter.

That’s just mildly well off.

Anything short of a billion is ho hum.

And even a billion – if it means that you have to go in to work every day  – is still just money. 

So simply by this theory of mine – we are released of all obligations to try to attain wealthy status. Because we can never do that unless you turn out to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. At least not wealth in the conventional sense of the term.

So there may be another kind of wealth that we can aspire to.

The abstract kind.

It is made up of dew moistened grass and smiles.

Of chaotic colors and first rains

Of ripe mangoes and mildewed memories

Of tone-deaf singers and kulfi hawkers

Of unattainable mountains and insane mountaineers

Of dried flowers in diaries and giggles

Of unforgettable words and haunting movies

Of horizontal tangos and midnight snacks

Love.

Longing.

Dances and Foolishness.

Yes.

That’s the kind of wealth rat race I can get on board with.