Thursday, December 13, 2007

'Men'strual Trouble

"I think I am having my PMS." My over-macho, hairy-as-a-cave-man friend declared to me a few days ago, while he was driving me back home. I was not surprised. It was high time that a man admitted having the Pre-Menstrual Syndrome. But I would rather call it Psychotic Mood Shifts.
"I have it every month you know," he continued. I looked into his eyes and the conviction in them made me believe that he must be marking his calendar. And I was right. "My date is 28 th of every month," he said. "What's yours?" he asked with child-like innocence.
Now this was no giggly girl talk. I got suspicious. This was the perfect way to get close to a woman. All a woman needs is a man who understands her. And a man who claims that he has PMS, and that he knows what a woman has to undergo during that period, is like the sapno ka rajkumar for every woman.
"What are you getting at?" I asked him suspiciously. I knew no man would ever admit that even he is prone to psychotic mood swings. Nothing in the world would make me reveal the details of my reproductive system to a testosterone-fuelled beast. "You really think I'll believe you? No matter what you say I am not going to tell you about my date," I warned.
His face drooped. He looked like the street mongrel that had been denied food. "It is the truth. I do have my PMS and I am having it right now!" he cried. I would not have believed him until … "Sister F*****," he spat, looking out of the window. It made me jump out of my skin. "Who the f*** has given them a license?" He hurled a slew of MC-BC abuses to the man who overtook his car from the wrong side. The man was obviously oblivious to my friend's wrath.
So was it a part of his PMS? I thought. Maybe not... All men are in a bad mood when they are driving. "Someone ought to kill these people. How can anyone call this place the national capital?" he said. "All I need is a gas chamber."
There… he said it. Did Hitler have PMS too? Was the World War II a resultant of Hitler's PMS? Hitler surely did not have PMS… but he was one crazy man. I let my thoughts wander. I thought about Hitler and how he must have kept track of his monthly cycle. I don't think he did a good job. It is better suited for a woman, I concluded. By that time my cave-man-like friend had pacified.
"Do you want to go for a movie?" he asked. I had not seen one for a while. I agreed. But I wasn't really destined to watch a movie. This, I should have understood the moment we entered the theatre complex. It looked as if all the Dilliwaalahs had descended at the theatre. A long queue outside the counter made things worse.
My friend decided not to stand in the queue. I braved the crowd and joined the gang of 'uncivilised' people who like standing in queues. My friend was chivalrous enough to stand beside me. "Is it the night before a holocaust or something? Is today the last day of their life? Why is this place crowded? I don't think I deserve to live among all these people. I think I should go to the Himalayas," he kept on muttering under his breath.
"You know you don't really need to stand here. Go sit somewhere. I'll be back with the tickets," I said. I should have known that this was probably the biggest mistake of my life.
"Then you'll say you had to do all the work. Does anyone care about how much I work? I am doing a thankless job. I never get credit for my work in office. I am under-paid and over-worked. But does that bother anyone?" He walked off. I followed him. My dear friend was having his PMS and I knew exactly what to do.
"Chocolate?" I held out a piece of Toblerone for him. He took it from me. His eyes welled with gratitude. He was about to cry. But he didn't. "I think we should go back now. I will be okay after a few days," he said as he gobbled up his chocolate and took another piece.
I was confused. I went back home and asked my father. "Do you feel cranky during a particular time of the month?" I asked."Yes… the 28th," he said grimly. "Your mother finishes off all my hard-earned money by that time." Ah! I think I got a clue.

Friday, May 04, 2007

I Spy

Caution: The content of the following story may not be suitable for all good-looking bachelors.

I really really wish that this paper does not reach my prospective husband. Not that I don’t want my newspaper to sell (no way… it’s my bread and butter), but I just don’t want him to know about my evil plans in advance.
After 10 years of marriage, I am planning to hire a detective agency to keep an eye on him. Boy! Wouldn’t it be fun to catch him red-handed, hanky-pankying with that stupid bimbette? Aah! The joys of a bad marriage!
Being far-sighted is not a bad idea at all. Though I may not have a very satisfying answer for my next employer, when he asks me that ‘how-I-see-myself-five-years-from-now’ question, I definitely know what my life would be after ten years of marriage.
So I have already talked to a few detective agencies in advance. And believe me, it was not that difficult.

Mission Possible
For me, the magic number is 22222222. Just Dial has always been my oracle for digging out phone numbers. They virtually have everyone’s number except Santa Clause’s
(I had asked for his number when I was 12). I called them up and asked for phone numbers a few detective agency’s in the city.
“Ma’am what kind of detective agency are you looking for?” cooed a chirpy voice from the other side.
I was surprised. “They even have different kinds of detective agencies?” I asked.
“Ma’am, detective agencies offer different services. What kind of a service are you looking for?” she chirped again.
Now, that was a difficult question. I simply couldn’t tell her that I was looking for a detective to spy on my husband, who by-the-way, is still happily unmarried and doesn’t even know me. And yes, I would hire them after twelve years.
“Can you just tell me the services they are offering?” I asked.
“Ma’am there are agencies that specialise in frauds, corporate frauds, cyber crimes, marital discords…”
“Marital discords,” I cut her short. “Yes that’s what I exactly want. What are the numbers?”
The chirpy voice told me that I would shortly receive an instant SMS with this information. And so it happened. Soon I received an SMS with all the phone numbers. Long live Just Dial!

Search Begins
They sent me a list of seven numbers. And I chose the ones with the most interesting names. Morpheus Detectives was my first choice. I kept calling but the phone was busy. So I chose to call the agency with the second-most interesting name: Fireball. The concerned person at this agency was a woman called Sunita. I imagined her to be someone like Mata Hari and excitedly dialed her number. Alas! It was switched off.
I was third time lucky. The investigator Gautam Kumar of the third agency, C Three India Detectives, answered the call (and my prayers). And I decided to get down to business. I told him I wanted a detective who could keep an eye on my husband.
“You see I am working in a multinational company and I hardly get to spend time with my husband and on weekends when I finally have the time, he flies off to Mumbai on the pretext of some official work. But you tell me, can anyone afford to work during every weekend?”
“Hmm,” he said understandingly.
“And this has been happening for over six months. I think he is having an affair,” I literally sobbed. “Can you help me out?”
“Yes, madam, the best way to do this is through physical surveillance,” he replied graciously and furnished me with his charges.

The Calculative Wife
Infidelity is easy but a fidelity check is costly. A fidelity check is the technical word for keeping an eye on a cheating spouse. A physical surveillance would cost me Rs 3,500 per day and if my detective had spy on my unfaithful husband after nine then his rates would shoot up like the autowaalahs of Delhi. “If we have to follow him after 9 p.m., we will charge you at a rate of Rs 460 per hour,” Kumar informed.
“And if you had to follow him after midnight?” I asked.
“Then we’ll charge Rs 4,500 for entire night,” he enlightened me.
He told me that if had to follow my husband to Mumbai, then his rates would go up to Rs 5,500 per day and that does not include his air fare and accommodation.
As soon as I hung up I took out my calculator and worked out my budget. I finally arrived at his conclusion: A 24-hour physical surveillance for five days in Delhi would cost me Rs 40,000 and if my spy follows him to Mumbai the next two days, it would go up to Rs 11,000 more which amounts to a total of Rs 51,000 (not including the air fare and accommodation).
With an inflation rate that’s currently above six per cent, I can imagine how much I have to pay after 12 years. But wives who are from well-to-do families and are working in big companies don’t mind shelling out this amount of money.
“More and more wives are coming to us with such cases. In fact, 60 per cent of fidelity check cases are lodged by women,” said Sanjeev Kumar from BLS Detectives, whom I had called as a journalist to get the real stats.
Money problems don’t worry me. I would get reimbursed with the fat alimony that I’ll receive after I file a divorce against my husband on the grounds of infidelity. I may become a rich divorcee some day. Amen!