A Tale Of Two Erections !!!

Statutory Warning: This blog may contain references that may not be suitable for all age groups/ audiences
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He: Sir, I have just got a new erection!!!

Me: (to myself) what the hell? Why would anyone want to come to me with a situation like this, is he looking for a half day leave or more worryingly an interim loan to deal with the situation... is there a limit to the excuses one can think of for these (In a slightly more audible tone) New Erection?? What did you do with the old one???

He: (with a smug smile) offloaded it on to the head of our new receptionist …

Me: (to myself) OMG!! (To him) and how did you manage??

He: Simple… I walked up to her … took it out and showed it to her …I asked her if she wanted it with the rubber sheath that I had put on it … or if I should take it off …

Me: and???

He: She said though the thing would look more desirable without the rubber on it, for safety purposes she preferred it with the rubber …

Me: Sensible Girl … and then?

He: well what is there to ask in that? She took it in her hands … played around a bit and then slid into her purse…

Me: Purse? Is that what they call it these days …?

He: Why? What else would they call it … she has a nice and compact pink coloured one I must add …

Me: Nice! Compact!! Pink!!!

He: Exactly … Seen a few women with huge, black, elastic ones you know what I mean … no matter what you stuff into them, it is never full…

Me: not too sure … and then..??

He: …what then … oh the receptionist story …

Me: Uh…. Umm… yes

He: She deftly moved the flaps of her purse, slid it in and out and could not stop screaming for joy, telling what a perfect fit it was ….

Me: Stop that now… or else I might end up having an erection myself…

He: Not a bad idea Sir, I can help you get one …

Me: Thanks but No Thanks … I am not that type… I am surprised you managed all this during office hours … even more shocked that she was okay with it…

He: Not just okay Sir, She was so thrilled, that she even paid me, though I insisted that it was my pleasure

Me: She paid you for that!!!

He: Yes Of course … but forget that, I came to talk about my new erection… you want to have a look?

Me: (to myself) How Gross! What the hell do I look like to him? (To him) I am sorry, I think, I told you, am not the type….

He: But sir … why so serious … just look at my trousers can you make it out??

Me: I am not looking anywhere in that direction, I told you I am not the type …

He: Well sir, you might as well look … this one is smaller in size and cannot be seen over as easily as the one earlier, which was rather huge ….

Me: The one you gave the receptionist …

He: yeah the same one …

Me: No wonder she thought it fit to pay you …

He: Anyone would have paid for that one sir… but why don’t we come back to my new one

Me: Why don’t you go back to her with it …?

He: I showed her already …

Me: (Is this guy for Real??) and what did she think of it …

He: She said she would have taken this one gladly if not for the earlier one…

Me: despite the smaller size?

He: Believe me sir, size is not what really matters to most women, or even men for that matter … it is what is packed into the size that matters

Me: Are you sure? I recently read in a Woman’s Mag that “size does not matter” is a myth being propagated by men who don’t make the cut …

He: Well at least the women I knew always told me so …

Me: Maybe it’s a case of … A small erection in your hand is worth more than a large one in someone else’s bush

He: Bush... What bush??

Me: Maybe not everyone has one… but the proverb still holds… if need be change the Bush into Purse …

He: Whatever … Sir I insist you have a look at mine…

Me: I insist, I don’t think I am the type …

He: I don’t care what type you are, you still have to have to look… don’t take it in your hand if you don’t like but you sure need to see it … I am sure the moment you see it, you will want it in your hand though …

Me: What arrogance … this is office and you are my junior… if anyone shows anyone anything that will be me showing you …. And not vice versa

He: But I have already seen yours …

Me: What? When?? Where????

He: On several occasions … even as recently as late last evening… while you were showing it off to Radhika Madam…

Me: OMG … what the hell were you doing in the office at that time… I thought there was no one else here other than her and me …

He: Well, Sir you can never be sure can you …

Me: I hope you will not go around talking about that though ….

He: Not if you agree to see mine …

Me: (You deserve this for been so careless) Uh… Umm ... Okay … just the one time … you will be across the table and two feet away from it … and will stay there till you put it back in…

He: It’s not explosive …

Me: Why am I not too sure about that …?

He: Whatever … I am sure you will want to take it once you see it

Me: I am not too sure about that too … why we don’t get this done with … I have other things to do …

He slowly slides his hands into his trousers and pulls out a brand new phone …

Me: Hey...That’s the new Ericsson ….

He: That’s exactly what I said … a new Erection!!!

World Wide Web

Not too sure how many times the needles of the clock on the wall met each other and parted ways since I began staring into roof of my bedroom… actually into infinity … I want to reason but logic defy me … I want to make sense of it all, but can a mind so fickle, so feeble comprehend the truth??? This is ‘Maya’ … what Krishna refers to in his sermon to Arjuna … its gotten more complicated, than it was during their times though …we have developed … humanity has … developed into a large complicated swamp… quicksand… a web so intricately woven around me that I am not too sure if I can ever be free….

I am a function of my desires… the most primal one being, the desire to reach the next level, the level that will give me satisfaction… that will help reduce my pains, my sorrows and make me happier and contended about myself … it is just that one level away and it has been so, from the time I remember … as a kid, I always wondered when I will get out of the misery called school … the fellows in college seemed to have a fascinating time …. At college it was the desire to start working … start earning … being a master of my own life … not having to justify to anyone else in the world how and why I spent my pocket money…. When I started to work it was the earnings … a little more than what I earn today is what I need for a comfortable life …

How I yearned for an upgrade from my second hand Hercules cycle (passed on by my dad to me) to a bike …. Fantasized about riding something more ‘manly’ than the four stroke 100 cc bike… lost interest in my two stroke Kawasaki Bajaj no sooner than a year of riding it … starting to realize that… Owning a four wheeler was the best thing that could happen to a man…. But small car is never as comfortable as a sedan… the sedan I drive is trifle below the demands of my current job portfolio… if you can understand what I am saying here …. Isn’t what you arrive in, almost as important as what you arrive for, if not more??? I need a vehicle that I don’t mind being seeing in … that carries a badge that does not have its origins from the South East of Asia … Japan would do, Europe would be preferred!!!

And then suddenly, here I am looking at my past rather remorsefully … trying to come terms with the fact that maybe I had past that was far more contended than the present that I live in or maybe even the future that I will be in… the lyrics of Jagjit Singh’s soulful rendering of the Ghazal that starts with “Yeh Daulat Bhi Le Lo, Yeh Shohrat Bhi Le Lo” rings loud in the mind… it was the childhood that I wanted clearly wanted to escape … it was the adolescence that I strongly abhorred… that I now desperately yearn for “…Magar Mujhko Lauta Do Bachchpan Ka Saawan… Woh Kagaz Ki Kasthi, Woh Baarish Ka Paani…”

I grew up watching TV at a house in our neighborhood, which can be best described as within walking distance from my home …. Since there was only one channel there was no fight for the remote, even though, there were more than 40 of us gathered in front of the TV set that looked like a decent sized bookshelf, complete with shutters and locks … oh yes … there was no remote either!!! I eagerly watched 'Krishi Darshan' that was telecast from the Delhi Studio of Doordarshan, not that I was the least bit interested in growing cash crops for the coming Kharif season, no not even the Rabi season, but then there was nothing else to watch, there was optimism…. the excitement of anticipation though … once this gets done with and the two news bulletins (English followed by Hindi or was it the other way round, that literally carried the same news and for most part was dedicated to what the Prime Minister did during the day) were over, there would be the top 20 countdown of film songs in 'Superhit Muqabala' …

Sometimes I did not want the program to start… ask me why? Because once started it would come to an end in an hour’s time and then one had to wait for it until the next week … ( let me digress a little here, I still get a similar feeling on Saturday afternoons … I am wary of Sunday mornings .. for it invariably leads to Sunday afternoons, then Sunday evenings, nights and then to Monday mornings… not too sure if anyone else feels that way) … How I wished there were more film music programs on TV … How I wish there were more quiz shows, more cartoons/ comedy shows, more movies, more serials…

Today, I have access to two television sets at my home, each with 100 plus channels … several with programming dedicated to the above mentioned genre, airing them 24/7, 365 days a year … but why am I not happy as I used to be with the sloppy DD and the “Rukhawat Ke Liye Khed Hai” / “Sorry for the Interruption” slides… the cardboard backdrops of Hum Log and Buniyad have been replaced by towering mansions of “K” serials … but why is it that they don’t hold my attention? The advancements in technology and digital mastering have created new avenues for musicians but why is it that I can’t fall in love with songs of today like I did with those of yesteryear..?

I grew up without internet or mobile phones… but I was more connected with people then, than I am today … the journeys took a longer time, but I was never rushed … My monthly earnings today, is twice as much as my annual earnings when I started out to work… yet there are much more commitments to honor… the month ends are ever so similar… the apartment complex in which my home is, has a 24 hour generator back up, so when there is a power failure, unlike during my childhood days, I can still have light around me … but what about the darkness within me???

No, don’t get me wrong, I am not blaming the mobile phones or internet here, nor am I suggesting that the coal gobbling, smoke spewing black engines of trains should not have been replaced with electrically operated ones…. I know they are not the basis for my discontent… my emotion has only to do with me …. Somewhere deep within me... not too sure where exactly … when technology develops further will there be a Google application to search yourself… will I be able to type “soul” and find the relevant link that will lead me to it?? Or will I have to shun technology and go back to the good old days of Krishna and Arjuna to find my soul???

Am I romanticizing? Do I think it is fashionable to be in love with the good old days?? Isn’t the right approach to think that the past is past and future is uncertain, so live in the present??? Easier said than done… will I ever be able to disconnect from my past or for that matter not think of the future … what am I without my past or future…. Will I be me if not for what I was…? Will I be me if I do not have aspirations about what I want to be…? I do not envy those who say that they live for the moment; I do not envy hollow proclamations or is it a classic case of grapes gone sour…?

Not sure how many times the needles of the clock on the wall met each other and parted ways since I began staring into roof of my bedroom… actually into infinity…

Woman, you’ll never cease to surprise me…

The following is something that I wrote a few years back published on another site… It’s the first in the series of few blogs I plan to relocate to this space…

Ever since Adam and Eve chose to take a bite of the “proverbial” Apple and lose the “proverbial” (is it?) Cherry, man has been searching for that one thing, which when found will unlock the mysteries of the female thought process. His search is still at the place where it began a few hundred thousand years ago. So if you are looking up this blog to try to get a few concrete ideas for a gift, with which you can floor your wife, well, you may be a trifle disappointed. I too am a mere man you see. The characters in this blog would love to be seen as fictional and resemblance to any person living or dead is purely because it was inevitable.


Many a times, I have been told that it is not the “gift” that matters it is the “thought” behind the gift that does. Like hell it does. Try explaining this funda to your wife who is chasing you down with the brand new fluorescent green high heeled shoes ( How could you have believed that doe-eyed sales girl at the shoe shop when she said that this was the ‘in thing”… ), that you bought it for her with a lot of nice thoughts. Try explaining it to your wife that She should not judge the value of your gift by the thickness of the “zari” (three and a half inches) on the “Kanjivaram” silk sari that you just gifted her (which incidentally is quarter an inch lesser than the one your neighbor’s wife’s sari). Instead, she should be judging it by the fact that your love for her is at twice as much as it is for the neighbors wife (I mean the love your neighbor has for his wife).

So one fine morning I looked at the date and quite accidentally remembered that it was my wife’s birthday, I got that familiar feeling in my stomach. “Oh my God another nerve wracking day of deciding a gift….”


I decided I would ask my friends for some advice. Isn’t that what friends are for… advising.

First one was my closest pal at work. He was a bachelor (lucky dog). He immediately said why don’t you cook her some good dinner. I was stumped. How do I tell him that, that is what most husbands do every evening irrespective of whether there is an occasion or not? He is after all someone who has high hopes from life. Then I did, I told him. He took it rather philosophically, I must admit. Why don't you make this one special; Candle lights, soft music et al… I could not help laughing at this one…due to the constant power trouble in my locality, most dinners we have are candle lit; more out of compulsion than out of choice. Without power there is no soft music, except for a possibility that I sing…and I can’t eat and sing at the same time (to be honest I can’t sing even while not eating). So that option is also out. He nodded and started “Then how about ” I was already on my way out thinking that this guy is of no use a very good friend might be but he is a bachelor let me try some married ones. As I was walking, something struck me, how about bribing the local authorities at the electricity office and ensuring that there will be power and maybe we could have one of those rare “CFL” dinners. It suddenly occurred that, for the money I spend bribing, I could probably buy her some diamonds , after all they say diamonds are a woman’s best friend (what are men then...?). I went in search of my next counselor.

This one was a married fellow. He looked harassed (sorry that I repeated the sentence). We looked at each other, the way two goats at the butchers would. There was empathy in his… I do not know what he found in mine. At best, it would have been confusion. I assessed his mood; he looked worried (the best a married man could look). Therefore, I decided that I would ask him before his mood changes.


I had not finished the question and he was up on his feet, yelling at me asking me to leave his office. I was taken aback, but I persisted, trying to calm him down. He refused to listen to me and started getting abusive. I had to count upon all my years of experience as a husband to stay calm. I was not going to leave him there, without knowing what was in his mind (after all, he is not my wife, is he??). My persistence paid off… he calmed down and came back to the “best that a married man can be” mood. Somewhere in the last month was his wedding anniversary. He shopped in the most expensive of malls and came home with a bag full of expensive and fashionable stuff. His wife who initially went gaga over him, slowly started getting annoyed, the sari was of the same shade as that of a churidar, she already had, the perfume – she found it too subtle, the lip stick was a shade too dark, why even the kajal was blacker than what black she used. For every gift she unwrapped, what started off as mild jibes grew in force and by the time she was getting to the last few, our man had already been hit by a couple of ‘make shift’ missiles (consisting of a few of the newly purchased gifts). There ended their anniversary celebrations. He has not talked to her since (now hey that is not a bad idea, said the mean mind in me). As I offered my condolences (what else can a married man do) and got up to move, he said in a prophetic voice “whatever you decide upon just see that you don’t buy anything even remotely related to clothes or fashion”.


My last counselor was a man who was married for more than 20 years. He looked peaceful. They say marriage troubles you only in the first few years after that you get used to it. I asked my question. What he said shocked me. He said he never bought gifts for his wife on her birthdays nor did she buy for his, instead they went out and bought themselves a gift on the other person’s birthday. Must have been the expression on my face, he asked son why would you buy a gift. After a couple of guesses, I got the answer, “joy”. Then he asked what would make you extremely happy, now this I answered at the first attempt; seeing my wife happy. To this, he said that is exactly what I was saying. On my birthday she goes and buys herself what she wants, she is happy and when I see her happy I am also happy and vice versa. Logical as it sounded, it also sounded a bit scary to try. Therefore, I just thanked him and went my way.

On my way home, I thought I should at least pick her a card. At the card shop, I found an inexpensive stuffed toy and remembered the day I had come there with my wife and her looking at this toy with some interest. I took a chance. I picked up the toy, a card and couple of red roses. I offered a small prayer in the Ganesh Temple at the street corner. My wife opened the door, with a foolish grin I said “Happy Birthday Darling” handing over the toy, the card and the roses (I do not remember the order). She seemed thrilled. She hugged me and said something like what a wonderful husband I was. I kissed her on her forehead and said “I LOVE YOU” and she whispered into my ears “that’s the most cherished gift you can ever give me”.


Woman, you’ll never cease to surprise me…


Ps: The author likes to believe that no wives have been hurt during the writing of this blog.

An Ode to the Faceless Soldier

What is common to?


Seetharamiah – a small scale farmer in Ongole

Muniraju Reddy – a wholesaler at Rajahmundry

Alex Mathew – a Sales and Marketing Professional covering Southern India

Gopal Rao – a successful dealer having is network across Karnataka

Shaikat Ahmed – a Pan Shop vendor at Bangalore

And Me …

If you say Nothing at all … well think again... not just these six odd people, but in fact several lakhs of people around the country are connected through an intrinsic network… the tobacco that Seetharamiah grows reaches ITC factory in Kolkata and Bengalooru through Muniraju’s trading company. Alex Mathew the enthusiastic head of sales chasing his monthly targets at ITC, channels the finished cigarettes into pan shops like the one that Shaikat operates, through dealerships like the ones run by Gopal… and that’s where I get my daily dose of nicotine from.

The chain is very feebly represented here... it consists of several other players in its fold... the logistics that helps the tobacco from its place of origin to the gentle grip amidst my fingers, the middlemen who negotiate rates and cuts, the factory workers who give the ciggies its perfect blend and its finest finish, the entire corporate structure at the tobacco company… the list is quite extensive … but I guess you get the drift ….

Every time a smoker lights up, he is contributing to the livelihood of many of his countrymen … literally lighting up the lives of many fellow countrymen and women too (I am reliably informed that the beedi industry in India is driven by rural women folk, who have made crafting beedis their livelihood and yes a thriving cottage industry, data given below) … not just directly by what he pays for the cigarettes but also through the taxes and duties …that's used in "National Interest" as detailed below

I know most of you are averse to chewing tobacco, so here are some figures I would like you to chew on...


* The cultivation of Tobacco is restricted to 0.3% of the total cultivated area

* Tobacco cultivation and processing provides employment to more than 60 lakhs people

* The beedi industry provides employment to around 44.00 lakhs essentially unskilled rural folks mostly women

* The export figures for 2007 -2008, shows that for tobacco both processed and unprocessed the value is 2022.78 Crore (502.67 M US$) and for the period from April to July 2008 for tobacco totals up to Rs. 982.87 Crore (233.8 M US $)in terms for foreign exchange earnings

* 55 per cent of the price of cigarettes in India represents excise. On the whole cigarette is taxed at around 132% of the value of the product (ex-factory price net of taxes)

* Cigarettes contribute nearly 10 per cent of total excise to the exchequer

* The branded cigarette industry in India is valued at Rs. 15000 Crore (Year 2007)

And a small portion of this huge tax collected and foreign exchange earned does percolate to Nation building ...I say a small portion because quite of lot of it goes into important matters of governance ... like for example:

* paying up the expenses for the high powered committee to Bahamas to study the plight of Indian fishermen

* cost of running 18 ambassadors and 6 contessas in the name of Z category security for a single VIP, while the rest city gets jammed (with the car and bike engines kept purring, if I may add) waiting for the cavalcade to pass

* the print and media campaigns that proclaim the existence of a government and its so called successes ... remember “UP mein dum hain... kyonki Crime yehan kum hain" (Whoa! Would I love to meet up with the marketing team that coined that one ...) or for that matter the “India Shining (While Indians are whining)” campaign

* the lakhs that are spent on the chief ministers’ aerial survey of flood hit areas (forget the fact that the same lakhs could have been used to procure relief to the victims on ground or is it neck deep in water)

... I am not even beginning to talk about the share that gets looted along the way... which goes into building the personal assets of those in power and their cronies in bureaucracy...

You must be wondering did I come here to read all this gyaan.... I was expecting something else based on the title ... An Ode to the Faceless Soldier ... err Smoker ... well in my opinion a smoker is a soldier in his own right ... what else do you call a person who puts his/her life on the line to help sustain a nation ... its people.. its economy ... a person who readily sacrifices himself / herself for the sake of the Seetharamiahs , Muniraju Reddys, Alex Thomases and the Shaikat Ahmeds of the world ... a person who is prepared to die for his/her fellow citizens ... a soldier right? A person directly contributing to the aforementioned Rs.150000 Crore economy by p(l)aying with his/her life and indirectly to an economic process that cannot even be realistically valued ...But is he/ she ever given his/her due? In a country where its real soldiers are seldom remembered , I understand fully well that it’s too naive to expect its smokers to be valued....


The nation has always looked down on smokers, smokers have been always given a raw deal, but the latest ban is sort of the last straw... What the government is effectively telling the smoker is that, we will allow people to grow tobacco and it’s perfectly legal to process it, manufacture it and sell it. If you as a manufacturer are smart enough, we will also allow you to advertise it (so what if you make a rather a poor attempt to camouflage it as a lifestyle clothing range or try and hide behind a bravery award campaign). Whether or not March follows February, each year we will religiously hike the taxes and duties on tobacco, as a consumer you can even buy it wherever or whenever you want it ... but hey! you can’t smoke respectfully ... you can do so, in hiding or bribing the law enforcement authority (as if, they did not have enough avenues to make a buck or two on the side)


I can hear the Ministry Of Health argue, you enjoy your smoke why would you call it a sacrifice or expect to be rewarded for that ... well that is akin to asking a professional you enjoy your job why do you want to be paid for that or why would you seek a promotion ... in any case I am not advocating sops for smokers ... I am not fighting for reservations for smokers’ kids in engineering colleges, nor am I asking for discounted railway tickets or a vishisht seva medal (though I would think the smokers deserve a AVSM, at least posthumously if not during their lifetime)... I am just wondering why you can’t let smokers be... Oh we care about your health is the next line of defence...


Well if you are so concerned about my health, why don’t you ban the cultivation of tobacco, the manufacture of cigarettes and beedis and their sale? Why would you treat the symptom, rather than removing the cause? Aww well you need the money... you need to make your bi-yearly foreign trip and once in 5 years TV campaign to list out your achievements, if there is a distinct lack of achievement during your tenure, you at least need it, to fund a bailout package in the election year for the farmers succumbing to the threat of loans....

Well, the smokers of this country will magnanimously bear this assualt too, like we have been silently suffering for decades now ... for your sake Minister of Health, we will not smoke in public places and yes! for you Minister of Finance, we will still strive to keep your coffers chiming, So what? if we have to get on to the road in that pursuit.... that reminds me, a well wisher during college days had once told me, quit smioking or you will end up on the roads... how very prophetic!!!


Overheard: The Health Minister to the poor smoker “Come on child; let me help you, kick your BUTT”



PS: This write up is purely a work of satire; the author respects the Indian Soldier or for that matter any soldier, who puts his life on line, so that the rest of the country can go about their normal day to day life in peace...