Satoma Asadgamaya

In Memory

Migrated Datasets


Friday, August 26, 2005

Flat on the Mat

Usually, great people hide their shortcomings and their failures from the public eye. I, on the other hand, think along different lines.

What was that di**head ? I'm not great? Are you out of your freaking mind, I mean, your freaking di** ?

That I AM great is a universal truth. A UNIVERSAL TRUTH. Like you know : the sun rises in the east. My greatness is independent of me and my actions and indeed, this pathetic universe. It just exists. In ineffable grandeur and in inviolate magnificence. It's undeniable and it's indisputable.

Having cleared that point, let me theorise on why then I choose to let you plebeians know what you're not entitled to -

a) Neither do I have any accomplishments nor do I have anything else to talk about. Other than my greatness, of course, which is too a great a matter to be presented to all and sundry. But I'm bored and I do want to talk so I'll just talk about my failures.

b) The big fan of Chandler Bing that I am, just like him I invariably keep rubbing people the wrong way, inspite of having good intentions. Some even wrongfully accuse me of arrogance. Everybody who knows me, knows me to be down to earth, unlike some peeps I know who (think they) ’re up so high that nothing less than the Hubble space telescope can spot them. Is there any arrogant soul on the third rock from the sun who'd talk about his failures?

I'll start off with something seemingly trivial, something which is not taken lightly by me though. My steed. Yes, my steed. Like all great champions, I’ve a steed - that wondrous piece of indigenous engineering - the Bajaj Pulsar DTSI 150. I'll talk about the times I cut a sorry figure , whenever I was thrown off my steed.

Now, even legendary warriors like Karna and Bheeshma were thrown off their chariots. Therefore, it’s not much of a surprise when one as legendary as they were and perhaps more is thrown off his mighty chariot. It’s all part of the war and the important thing’s in getting up again.

Let’s get going without any further ado.


Place: Venkatanarayana Road,T.Nagar

Date: Republic Day, 2004.

Objective: To reach Aminjikarai.

Observations: Mental Baba sees a hot chick on the road, walking towards him from the opposite direction. Hot chick makes eye contact with Mental Baba. Mental Baba’s right hand starts working independently of his left-handed brain. It decides it’d like shake hands (and more) with the chick. Instead it shakes hands, rather vigorously, with the disc brake(which doesn’t seem to be too amused). Before Mental Baba’s vocal cords can say "Mamma Mia!", Mental Baba is FLAT ON THE MAT.

Duration on the mat: 30 seconds

Results (in chronological sequence):

# Mob gathers.
# Hot chick puts Mental Baba’s head in her lap and tenderly tends to his injuries (NO, THAT’S A LIE).
# Hot chick vamooses from the scene of her crime.
# Mental Baba reaches hospital instead of Aminjikarai.
# A not-so-hot nurse tends to Mental Baba’s injuries.
# Mental Baba’s steed reaches garage instead of Aminjikarai.
# An ugly mechanic tends to his heavy injuries.
# Mental Baba discovers that his featherweight bank balance is now lighter by Rs.1400.

Inference: Hot chick to blame. Should be arrested and sentenced as a public menace.


Place: ECR

Date: Sometime in September 2004.

Objective: To do a speed run.

Observations: Mental Baba‘s smoking the tyres @ 105 Ks an hour. Mental Baba sees a herd of cows crossing the road up ahead. He respectfully slows down to a crawl @ 20 Ks an hour. A hefty cow suddenly decides that she has a crush on Mental Baba. She breaks out of the herd and crushes both Mental Baba as well as his worthy steed. Before Mental Baba’s vocal cords can say "Holy Cow!", Mental Baba is FLAT ON THE MAT.

Duration on the mat: 120 seconds

Results (in chronological sequence):

# Nobody gathers.
# Cow puts Mental Baba’s head in her lap and tenderly tends to his injuries (THANK GOD THAT’S A LIE).
# Cow looks at Mental Baba with love in her large brown eyes.
# Cow then vamooses from the scene of her crime ?!
# Mental Baba limps back to his feet and licks his wounds.
# Mental Baba discovers, to his horror, that his steed’s fork is twisted.
# Mental Baba abandons his speed run.
# Mental Baba discovers that the cow’s affection cost him 400 bucks and a stitch.

Inference: Cow to blame. Should be arrested and served as beef. (And I used to be a Brahmin!)


Place : 2rd Main Road, Kanappanagar, Thiruvanmiyur

Date : Sometime in November 2004

Objective: To reach my aunt’s place.

Observations: Mental Baba’s driving safely, minding his own business, @ 40 Ks an hour. Before Mental Baba’s vocal cords can say "What the f*** ?!", Mental Baba is FLAT ON THE MAT.

Duration on the mat: 20 seconds

Results (in chronological sequence):

# Nobody gathers.
# Mental Baba extracts his steed from a pothole so thoughtfully and strategically placed by the Chennai Corporation.
# No bruises except for a few scratches.
# Aunt puts Mental Baba’s head in her lap and tenderly tends to his injuries (Yikes!!! That's NOT a lie).

Inference: Amma to blame. Should be arrested and forced to fill up every pothole in the city.


Place : Venkatanarayana Road,T.Nagar (Not again)

Date : Sometime in January 2005

Objective: To reach Abhiramipuram.

Observations: Mental Baba’s driving safely AGAIN, minding his own business AGAIN, @ 40 Ks an hour AGAIN. An auto-driver thinks that Venkatanarayana Road is in fact the Circuit de Cataluyna. He makes an amazing attempt to pass between Mental Baba and a Santro in front of him – one that would have made to Ripley’s Believe It Or Not or The World’s Most Amazing Videos. Before Mental Baba’s vocal cords can say "O Venkatesa !", Mental Baba is FLAT ON THE MAT.

Duration on the mat: 10 seconds (the mob was real quick, I tell you)

Results (in chronological sequence):

# The Santro gets a good kick up its ample backside.
# Mob gathers.
# Auto-driver gets beaten up.
# Mamas join the action.
# Auto-driver gets beaten up again.
# Mental Baba’s steed escapes with a few scratches.
# Mental Baba escapes with a torn jeans and a torn elbow.

Inference: Auto-driver to blame. Should be arrested and beaten up again.


Place : Some road, Dasarathapuram, Vadapalani
Date : Sometime in February 2005

Objective: To drop his friend home (Clarification : friend != girlfriend).

Observations: Mental Baba’s dead drunk. He zipping the city roads, late at night @ 100 Ks an hour, navigating to instructions from the pillion. He tries to do a Rossi at a turning. Before Mental Baba’s beer-belly can say "Belchhh!", Mental Baba is FLAT ON THE MAT.

Duration on the mat: 10 seconds

Results (in chronological sequence):

# Nobody gets hurt. Mental Baba's under the protection of magic.
# It has no effect on Mental Baba. He gets up and keeps going.

Inference: Mental Baba to blame. Should be arrested and sent for psychiatric evaluation.

Management Class : Meandering thoughts of a fickle mind

mental baba 2:36 PM | pathar ka lakeer | 0 baba ka katora |

Friday, August 19, 2005


Connect: The Trishul. The Brahmastra. The Gandiva. Little Boy. AK-47. Scud.

Now, I'm not really trying to check out your knowledge quotient or something but I don't think it requires a George W. Bush to get this one right - WMD. If you belong to that species that's politely referred to as...well…average, let me S.P.E.L.L it out for you buttheads - Weapons of Mass Destruction.

I have something to say about this whole thing. This list is crap. I mean the biggest and the baddest WMD of them all - one that'd make this entire lot look as sorry as Saurav Ganguly after a Shoaib Akhtar over - has been omitted. Dada, nothing personal man. If you want, we always can change the simile to Mental Baba after his monthly heyday (on second thought, make that payday).

It's the...the...the Ra....the Raa....the Raaaa.....the Rakhee. Damn. I can't even bring myself to say the word. Let me hereafter simply refer to it as WMD. What ? Are you people buttheads or what ? How many times do I have to f***ing S.P.E.L.L it out for you - Weapon of Male Destruction. The Ra....The WMD - that freaking weapon of male destruction.

Somebody, please! Somebody do something! Call the UN. Call Superman. Call Dubyaman. In the name of truth, peace and justice, somebody call somebody!

But I must say that you peeps have a lot to learn from me. I'm quite a bit of a role model. Because I have an amazing record. In 25 years, I have been the victim of this atrocity only once. Only once. What ho! What do you say to THAT? Some say it's my ability to be as slippery as an eel. But I think it's just my J factor. Now the J factor is something on the basis of which peeps have earned their doctorates. I don't intend to do another thesis right here. Let me just say that in the hallowed precincts of the most venerated engineering college of India, J = Juice.

Name J Factor

Laloo Prasad : -7.4
Amelie Mauresmo : 0.1
Marat Safin : 9.2
John Abraham : 9.4
George Clooney : 9.5

You get the drift ? Well, I didn't know you were THAT slow on the uptake. I think it's about time you turned on the optimisation flags on your pathetic compilers. Do it and then compile :

float get_j_factor(string input)
float j_factor;

if (!strcmp(input,"Mental Baba")){
j_factor = 10.0;
WHERE NAME= :input ;

if (j_factor == 10.0){
printf(“Not so fast, son.\n”);
j_factor == 0.0;

return j_factor;

In effect, this is what happens. It’s only those women who've had their neural fluid vaporised (thanks to the frequent application of the hair dryer), who come to rakhee me. Now this hair dryer thing is actually something that most people don’t believe in. Idiots. In fact, it’s one of the reasons why I shed my hair. I prefer neural fluid to wet hair. I’ll be out with that thesis soon enough. Now, coming back to the matter at hand. Yeah, they come try to rakhee me. Then the full blast of J factor (the perfect 10.0 J factor, if I may add) hits them right on their pretty faces. It doesn’t take long for them to exchange their rakhees for coupons (you know, the kind Joey liberally dished out in Friends). Hah!

Anyway, the only time I was caught unawares was by my younger bro's classmate. But since she was six years younger than I was, I kind of turned the J factor down and chivalrously accepted it .But wait a minute. How did she come to her classmate's house and rakhee his 7.0 J older bro AND then conveniently forget to rakhee the 0.5 J younger bro ? Hello? Bro? Hello? You there ?

So you see that it's quite an impressive record. I'm pretty proud of it. When I see unsuspecting guys being surreptitiously shackled by unscrupulous girls, I feel bad. I mean, once they're done with it, it's like the guys're done in. On top of that, they got to PAY the girls for being done in. And then, advertise their disastrous loss on their wrists for the whole world to see. Whatever happened to truth, peace and justice ? What in the name of the Holy F*** is this world coming to?

Like I was saying, I'm good. Other guys, they walk up to me and ask for fundas. Philanthropist that I am. I thought I'd share some of my knowledge for free. The first principle is pretty simple really....

Hey, hang on a minute. Does that girl actually have a rakhee in her hand?

50m. No, that's not for me. No way.
25m. Piece of cake. The J Factor.
15m. Everything's under control dude.
10m. What the ?!
5m. Hey, what the hell’s going on in here ?!
2m. Holy craparoni! I'm outta this place.

But the less dim-witted of you have probably observed that I've never given Asafa Powell or Justin Gatlin sleepless nights.


I can't believe this happened to me. Me, Mental Baba. Me, the Great Eye. Me, the Morning and the Evening Star. Why me?

Rakshabandhan? I think it's the guys who need some raksha.

Management Class : Meandering thoughts of a fickle mind

mental baba 3:01 PM | pathar ka lakeer | 0 baba ka katora |

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

National Economy

Being the public-spirited soul that I undeniably am, contributing to National Economy has always been a top priority of mine. As part of my selfless drive to boost the meagre inflows into the national exchequer, I've always tried my very best to maximize my outflows. I don't have to try too hard really - it sort of comes naturally to me. But for me and my kind (and I tell you that we're close to extinction), the Reserve Bank's reservoirs would have been as bountiful as water in the Atacama desert (on second thought, just make that Chennai). Public spending - for the greater good. That's my mantra.

To this noble end, I've been relentlessly engaged in patronizing the likes of Domino's, Pizza Hut and Smokin' Joe's for long. "Why ?!!"

Well, I didn't know you had to be an Einstein to figure that out, bum. No, make that di**head, di**head.

a) Menu says 100 bucks -> Customer pays 120 -> sales tax -> NATIONAL ECONOMY
b) The phone calls -> the monthly bills -> the telecom companies -> corporate tax -> NATIONAL ECONOMY
c) The delivery boys -> the petrol -> the oil companies -> excise / corporate tax -> NATIONAL ECONOMY... (and indeed, if I may say so,...-> the Arab world -> world peace)
d) Tomatoes, Capsicums, Onions, Mushrooms, Olives -> the poor Indian farmer -> the rich Indian farmer -> income tax -> NATIONAL ECONOMY
e) The cheese -> the poor Indian milkmen -> the rich Indian milkmen -> sales / income tax -> NATIONAL ECONOMY
f) The dough, the breads -> the poor Indian bakers -> the rich Indian bakers -> income tax -> NATIONAL ECONOMY
g) Chicken, lamb -> the poor Indian butcher -> the rich Indian butcher -> income tax -> NATI

And here I must put my foot down. Where are the freaking fish pizzas ? Spare a thought for the poor Indian fishermen. Who'll give them a chance to contribute to National Economy ? I mean,seriously, is this a democracy or what ? Do these guys have any rights or what ? Whatever happened to The Right to contribute to National Economy? Di**heads.

h) The delivery boys, the chefs, the waiters -> national employment -> NATIONAL ECONOMY

Hell, it sure isn't all about loving your parents. Karan Johar, you di**head. It's all about NATIONAL ECONOMY, you freaks. Di**heads.

All roads lead to NATIONAL ECONOMY. So you must be an intrepid voyager, unafraid and daring, who may boldly go where no man has gone before - to the top of that majestic pinnacle of NATIONAL ECONOMY.

As part of my efforts towards realising this long-cherished dream of surmounting this unconquered peak, I decided to take the pizzeria trail. And I called up Domino's.

Hungry Kya? No, I wasn't but I did it all for the selfless sake of NATIONAL ECONOMY.

A tear runs down my face as the heady words blitz through my head : Everything I do, I do it for you. Look into my will see...what you mean to me...


Sentimental me. Sentimental me...please don't let it be...I'm in love with're in love with me...National Economy.

Anyway, back to Domino's - that most magnificent of all pillars supporting National Economy.

Domino's : "Hi. I'm $#@head. How can I help you ?"

Mental Baba : "You help me by helping me help National Economy."

Domino's : "Sir, we live to serve all those who serve National Economy."

Domino's : "Would you like the poor butchers or the hapless farmers to assist National Economy?"

Mental Baba : "Allow me to do service to the hapless farmers. Neither do they have free electricity nor do they have subsidized loans. I'd like to offer the regular assistance."

Domino's : "Come now, sir! We have medium as well as large assistances available. Surely a personage as worthy as you would not deign to offer regular assistance. Think of the poor farmers. They look up to you and only you. "

Mental Baba :"Make that a large. From the Farmhouse."

Domino's : "O Magnanimous Sire! What of the humble bakers who wait patiently to succour National Economy with their nourishing garlic toasties ?"

Mental Baba : "Yes, Them too."

Domino's: "O Mighty Knight! We've just been informed that the loss-making cola companies are planning to lay off their employees for want of avenues to benefit National Economy in a befitting way."

Mental Baba: "Yes, I shall help the downtrodden cola employees pay obeisance to National Economy."

Domino's : "Thank you for letting us help you help National Economy. May Economics be with you."

I'd plonked myself on the bed and was waiting for precisely 28 minutes when somebody rapped my door. Ah, there he was - that faithful servitor of National Economy, dressed in national colours.

I thought of the farmers and the bakers and the cola employees and the millions and the millions of my fans who look to me as a role model in search of truth, peace, justice and, oh yeah, inspiration. The feeling of chivalry swamped every cell in my body. I rolled my shirtsleeves up, rolled my intestines in and got down to the hands-on service of National Economy. Now, I don't mean to be a Gascon or anything but I've been told that I rather resemble the Mahatma - both in thought as well as in coutenance (not speak of patriotic fervour). I did it all for National Economy.

And then I did more.

i) The Delhi-belly -> the pills -> the pharmaceutical companies -> excise /corporate tax -> NATIONAL ECONOMY.

Look at me. It doesn't end there really.

I woke up this morning and decided that taking French leave once in a while wouldn't do my appraisal rating any harm. I mean, they don't have negative rating, do they ?

My PL calls me up : "Woher bist du?"

Mental Baba : "Ich habe delhi-belly."

PL : "Just drag your ass and your delhi-belly down to office. We got work to do."

Mental Baba : "No way. I'm sick."

PL : "Global Top 10 Company -> professional tax/corporate tax/income tax -> NATIONAL ECONOMY."

Did you just ask me why I'm here, di**head ?

"May economics be with you."

Management Class : Meandering thoughts of a fickle mind

mental baba 3:32 AM | pathar ka lakeer | 0 baba ka katora |

Monday, August 01, 2005

The Land

The great river gurgled o’er ancient rocks,
Foaming joyously pasts banks of white sand,
Sprinkling blessings on shaven heads and matted locks,
In mythical Devbhumi – they said it was holy land -

Abounding in answers that every man seeks.
In the east did erupt the first rays of the sun
As I stood in the midst of majestic peaks.
If ever there was a sight – it was the one.

It was so unreal: that magical shaft of light.
Lo! The snowy tops were kindled to a blazing fire,
One that burnt an indescribable pure white.
The mountains be high, I felt something higher.

Surrounded by the mighty Himalayas, in the vale,
I gazed spellbound upon that resplendent white crown.
Of a forgotten King, perhaps, it seemed to tell a tale.
I listened awhile: by and by disappeared my frown.

I inhaled deeply the elusive breath of life
Shepherded down the slopes by boisterous winds.
It cut my disease away like whetted knife.
And whispered, “Thy death sentence, the King rescinds.”

I felt my soul unburdened: then was I glad.
Tranquility descended at the faraway ringing of a bell.
It was everything that I could have hoped to have had.
How I wished, that there, I might evermore dwell.

Where the dale welcomes dancing grey waters.
Where the white mountains soar up to the blue sky.
Where fragrant flowers are the earth’s fair daughters.
Where all creation is pure, noble and high.

The great river gurgled o’er ancient rocks,
Foaming joyously pasts banks of white sand,
Sprinkling blessings on shaven heads and matted locks,
In mythical Devbhumi – the holy land.

Management Class : Idylls of the Wannabe

mental baba 10:40 PM | pathar ka lakeer | 0 baba ka katora |