I was reading some blogs and asked myself, what’s with me. Why can’t I write deep, reflective, non-vulgar, mature blog posts? The truth is I may try. I may struggle in my head to get out those calm, unruffled, deeply philosophical stuff. Such as a woman reflecting on the quality of life whilst sipping her chamomile, being a woman in a man’s world and such. A man writing on corporate resource allocation and sustaining successful businesses in economic downturn. Or vice versa. Being a man in woman's world sipping whatever...you get the drift.
When I write, only nonsense tumbles out. Petty observations about people, cheap humor and the disorderly tragi-comic way of the world in general. So that’s my voice then. Of a vulgar writer. And on that note, let me share a petty account of a conference on road safety I recently attended in Delhi.
At the thinly attended winter-morning, inaugural session, the only moment of excitement occurred when the young usher’s sari almost caught fire during lamp lighting. As the entire auditorium looked on in anticipation for her sari to unravel, some backstage boys quickly carried away the damsel in distress. In utter despondence we focused on the conference, that began with deep discussions on the dismal state of road safety, by Indian and international presenters in bad accents.
Before the tea break, an eager beaver asked – “So when can we expect central funding on road safety?”
“I hop soon,” said the speaker from the stage gravely. Ignoring his hop, people wrestled each other out for tea and pakodas.
As the following session presumed, a man in the audience dropped some pamphlets that were balanced precariously on both his thighs. The papers from thigh no 1 fell and spread silkily on the carpet. The man (presumably lazy) didn’t wish to spare the effort of bending and picking up the papers. Innovatively, he tried to pull the papers closer with one foot. As he stretched his leg forward to gather the fallen sheaf, the other pamphlets resting on thigh no 2 slid and fell. All the participants across the aisle and others, by craning their necks, focused on this welcome distraction. As the speaker on the dais droned on, all eyes eagerly waited to see the lazy man’s next move.
Now with all papers on the floor and both thighs freed, he stretched both the legs in a synchronized effort to pull the papers closer. With the effort, his right shoe gave away and lay footless on the papers. It was clearly not his day. Now he stretched his left leg clumsily to bring the papers closer. The truant papers shifted position and went hiding under the chair of a beautiful woman to his left. Keen to help her struggling neighbour, the beautiful lady asked ‘Shall I spread my legs?’ She was not just beautiful, but was generous too, I noted.
The lazy man nodded solemnly and said ‘Yes please. I need those papers.’ (like those old jokes where a man attempting to mount a camel out of sheer frustration, saves a naked woman from a demon, and when the woman offers her booty in return, the man says – just hold the camel for me). With the papers finally collected and the generous neighbour’s legs closed, the audience tried to focus on the graph on the screen yet again. Finally a dapper presenter headed to the stage and started by saying ‘Relax I don’t have a presentation.’ As we were starting to clap and walk away, he launched into a diatribe on road safety audits, the various stages it needs to be done in and the types of audits. He spoke for 45 minutes sans slides and breath.
The post lunch session was a pure torture with soft paneer and succulent mutton rolling in our bellies. The wily organisers had kept the torturous ‘exhibitor sponsor session’ post lunch. Foreigners from Europe, Australia and Norway came and spoke relentlessly on new technologies for enhancing road safety, in an effort to convince the govt. departments to buy their solutions and consultancies. The govt reps on their part slept peacefully in the front rows, displaying their cavities to the world, from where flowed rivulets of drool.
A speaker from Norway was pointing enthusiastically at the screen and saying, "Lukh at z line on z graph in z sthatisthics representhing z road inzury data percenth over z last thwen years". Zzzzs was all he got from the audience. In my immediate neighbourhood, an older man and a big eyed girl were getting to know each other in hushed tones. They whispered about their lives, their growing up years, joys and sorrows, likes and loves. The older man spoke about his successful career and the big eyed girl about her father’s contacts and money.
The man then asked the girl, “So has your father retired or does he work somewhere?” The girl gave it some thought and said “No no, he hasn't retired, he works somewhere.” Sadly the balance conversation was drowned, when the Norwegian raised his pitch in a passionate rendering which went like - “The TC 226 is in charge of the European normalization concerning the road equipment markings...."
Somehow the hours passed, they seemed like days and months. Finally came the valedictory session where everyone individually thanked everyone else and their great grandfathers. In his vote of thanks, the chairperson alternated between calling the sessions valuable and invaluable. Some awards were given out where the awardees hung precariously near the edge of the stage, since flower pots occupied most part.
Finally at 6 pm, people wriggled out the hall with bloodshot eyes characteristic of disturbed sleep. As I made way to the washroom pushing through the crowd that was clutching the free conference kits like family jewels, the beautiful woman (of the spread my legs fame) walked slowly in front of me.
Bright sunflowers adorned her yellow sari. Two large flowers sat snugly on her bum. I wondered if I should race with her before the sunflowers hit the pot. To my good luck, she stopped momentarily and stared at the men’s door. She seemed confused, tempted probably...it had been a long day. I took advantage of her indecision and raced ahead by elbowing her. The day was finally over, I could whistle.
Serious note: This, like everything else, is written in jest. To those that sponsored my visit to the conference, I attended not one but all three days, in all earnestness and took copious notes (some of which have found their way into this). Please do continue to send me to future conferences.
When I write, only nonsense tumbles out. Petty observations about people, cheap humor and the disorderly tragi-comic way of the world in general. So that’s my voice then. Of a vulgar writer. And on that note, let me share a petty account of a conference on road safety I recently attended in Delhi.
Before the tea break, an eager beaver asked – “So when can we expect central funding on road safety?”
“I hop soon,” said the speaker from the stage gravely. Ignoring his hop, people wrestled each other out for tea and pakodas.
As the following session presumed, a man in the audience dropped some pamphlets that were balanced precariously on both his thighs. The papers from thigh no 1 fell and spread silkily on the carpet. The man (presumably lazy) didn’t wish to spare the effort of bending and picking up the papers. Innovatively, he tried to pull the papers closer with one foot. As he stretched his leg forward to gather the fallen sheaf, the other pamphlets resting on thigh no 2 slid and fell. All the participants across the aisle and others, by craning their necks, focused on this welcome distraction. As the speaker on the dais droned on, all eyes eagerly waited to see the lazy man’s next move.
Now with all papers on the floor and both thighs freed, he stretched both the legs in a synchronized effort to pull the papers closer. With the effort, his right shoe gave away and lay footless on the papers. It was clearly not his day. Now he stretched his left leg clumsily to bring the papers closer. The truant papers shifted position and went hiding under the chair of a beautiful woman to his left. Keen to help her struggling neighbour, the beautiful lady asked ‘Shall I spread my legs?’ She was not just beautiful, but was generous too, I noted.
The lazy man nodded solemnly and said ‘Yes please. I need those papers.’ (like those old jokes where a man attempting to mount a camel out of sheer frustration, saves a naked woman from a demon, and when the woman offers her booty in return, the man says – just hold the camel for me). With the papers finally collected and the generous neighbour’s legs closed, the audience tried to focus on the graph on the screen yet again. Finally a dapper presenter headed to the stage and started by saying ‘Relax I don’t have a presentation.’ As we were starting to clap and walk away, he launched into a diatribe on road safety audits, the various stages it needs to be done in and the types of audits. He spoke for 45 minutes sans slides and breath.
The post lunch session was a pure torture with soft paneer and succulent mutton rolling in our bellies. The wily organisers had kept the torturous ‘exhibitor sponsor session’ post lunch. Foreigners from Europe, Australia and Norway came and spoke relentlessly on new technologies for enhancing road safety, in an effort to convince the govt. departments to buy their solutions and consultancies. The govt reps on their part slept peacefully in the front rows, displaying their cavities to the world, from where flowed rivulets of drool.
A speaker from Norway was pointing enthusiastically at the screen and saying, "Lukh at z line on z graph in z sthatisthics representhing z road inzury data percenth over z last thwen years". Zzzzs was all he got from the audience. In my immediate neighbourhood, an older man and a big eyed girl were getting to know each other in hushed tones. They whispered about their lives, their growing up years, joys and sorrows, likes and loves. The older man spoke about his successful career and the big eyed girl about her father’s contacts and money.
The man then asked the girl, “So has your father retired or does he work somewhere?” The girl gave it some thought and said “No no, he hasn't retired, he works somewhere.” Sadly the balance conversation was drowned, when the Norwegian raised his pitch in a passionate rendering which went like - “The TC 226 is in charge of the European normalization concerning the road equipment markings...."
Somehow the hours passed, they seemed like days and months. Finally came the valedictory session where everyone individually thanked everyone else and their great grandfathers. In his vote of thanks, the chairperson alternated between calling the sessions valuable and invaluable. Some awards were given out where the awardees hung precariously near the edge of the stage, since flower pots occupied most part.
Finally at 6 pm, people wriggled out the hall with bloodshot eyes characteristic of disturbed sleep. As I made way to the washroom pushing through the crowd that was clutching the free conference kits like family jewels, the beautiful woman (of the spread my legs fame) walked slowly in front of me.
Bright sunflowers adorned her yellow sari. Two large flowers sat snugly on her bum. I wondered if I should race with her before the sunflowers hit the pot. To my good luck, she stopped momentarily and stared at the men’s door. She seemed confused, tempted probably...it had been a long day. I took advantage of her indecision and raced ahead by elbowing her. The day was finally over, I could whistle.
Serious note: This, like everything else, is written in jest. To those that sponsored my visit to the conference, I attended not one but all three days, in all earnestness and took copious notes (some of which have found their way into this). Please do continue to send me to future conferences.
