Idhar Udhar Ki Baat

      “Your new boss is an a**hole,” my friend announced the moment he walked into my office.      “Why do you say that?” I asked.       “He never grades anyone as outstanding. He’s kaan ka kaccha  (gullible). This is your grave.”      “I’ll manage,” I said. “Don’t worry.”      “Yes, yes, you’re one hell of a smart alec. How do you do it?”       “Not difficult,” I replied. “One boss was convinced I had a relative who owned a mango orchards. Another believed my cousin had an apple orchard. A third was sure my brother-in-law controlled duty-free shops. And then there was a tough one—so I made his wife believe my family was in the diamond trade.”     “That’s pretty unethical.”     “What?”      “ C h*t* ye ko Ch*t* ya banāne mein kya galat hai? (No harm in making an idiot out of an idiot)” I shot back. “If a man doesn’t know that apples are not h...

     “ मूली दे परांठे खा लिए जाएं आज ?” — मैंने बड़े प्यार से कहा। पत्नी ने जो डर्टी लुक मारी , लगा जैसे मैं   परांठे नहीं , सोने का गहना मांगने की बात कर रहा हूँ।      नौकरानी नहीं आई थी , तो सोचा चुपके से किचन में जा कर कुछ कर दूँ ताकि पत्नी की   मदद हो जाए ।      तीन स्ट्रोक में पहली उंगली कद्दूकस , खून नहीं निकला तो जारी रखा। तीन और स्ट्रोक — दूसरी उंगली भी शहीद। धीरे से बैंड-एड लगाया , ताकि वो न देख ले।      अगर देख लिया होता तो पूरा   ऑर्डर आता — “ निकल जाओ मेरे किचन से बाहर!”      फौजी हूं , इतनी जल्दी हार मानने वाला नहीं। सोचा — “ग्रेटर की जगह मिक्सी क्यों नहीं ?”       मूली काटी , जार में डाली , पाँच मिनट बाद देखा — मूली के बड़े बड़े टुकड़े थे परांठा तो नहीं बन सकता था।        फिर मैंने मूली को छोटे जार में डाला और घुमा दिया मिक्सी को मूली का स्मूदी बन गई। परांठा तो नहीं डोसा शायद बन जाये।   चुपके से मूली की स्मूथी को पॉलिथीन में डालकर डस्ट...

  'Dirty look' I got from wife as I suggested having mooli ke pranthe on my sixtieth birthday. The maid was not coming. I in my wisdom decided to help and sneaked into the kitchen. Started grating the mooli. Three strokes and I grated my finger. Not much as no bleeding, so continued. Another three strokes and another finger grated with some blood oozing. Surreptitiously I placed a band aid. I didn't want her to know because she would have shouted "Get out of my Kitchen". Didn't want to give up. So thought of better way of grating mooli. Why not use mixie. Chopped it and put it in jar. After a prolonged grind I opened the jar. Half the mooli was perfectly shredded; the other half was mocking me in big chunks. Certainly not fit for the paranthas. Shifted the mixture in smallest jar. A few minutes later I found a fine smoothie. Could make  a dosa but certainly not a parantha. So, quietly poured the *batter* into a polythene bag and dumped it into the dustbin. My ...

“Look, Khazana Babu is being punished,” said a soldier, pointing towards Sepoy (Clerk) Khazan Singh crawling near the unit’s Gurudwara. The others laughed as it was odd to see a clerk undergo physical punishment. Khazan Singh knew they were mocking him, but instead of anger, he smiled. He wasn’t repentant for what he had done. The punishment — seven days of rigorous imprisonment — felt light compared to what he could have faced. After all, he had taken his revenge and gotten away with it. The victim hadn’t exposed the theft, and the Head Clerk had promised to ensure the punishment wouldn’t appear in his service record. As he crawled, Khazan drifted into his thoughts, silently thanking God for always blessing him. Khazan Singh was the eldest son of an army man from the rugged broken lands of Tanda, in Gujarat District (now in Pakistan). His father, Ganga Singh, had wanted him to become a granthi (scripture reader) and got him admitted to the Gurudwara. His younger, more handsome b...

Maa darc**d Munir will again start a war and increase mehangai (inflation) in India. Thus,   making our life hell,” remarked an old man. I tried hard to understand the context and then realised he had got it wrong. The news he was reading on the TV was about the threats made by Munir in the current Af-Pak situation. I was still surprised when another man added, “Aaho (yes).” This was the kind of conversation one hears in the waiting hall for attendants whose relatives are admitted to the general ward of a hospital in Punjab. I realised that people here are so conditioned to the idea of war with Pakistan that they can’t imagine a situation where some other country can have a problem with Pakistan. They don’t know that someone has managed to convince Afghanistan that their real enemy has been in disguise. But my own disguise gave way when an old Sikh gentleman in an immaculate white pyjama-kurta smiled and said, “Saab ji, chaa piyoge? (Saab, will you have tea?)” “I’m no ...

" माद * चो * मुनीर फिर जंग छेड़ेगा और भारत में महंगाई बढ़ा देगा , हमारी ज़िंदगी नर्क बना देगा ," एक बुज़ुर्ग आदमी ने कहा। मैंने समझने की कोशिश की कि बात क्या है। फिर पता चला कि उसने टीवी पर खबर ग़लत समझी है। खबर तो अफगानिस्तान को मुनीर की तरफ से दी गई धमकियों के बारे में थी। मुझे हैरानी हुई जब एक और आदमी ने कहा , " हाँ , बिल्कुल। " यही बातें पंजाब के किसी अस्पताल के जनरल वॉर्ड के अटेंडेंटों के लिए वेटिंग हॉल में हो रही थीं। मुझे समझ आया कि पंजाब के लोग इतने जंग के माहौल में रह गए हैं कि वे कभी सोचते ही नहीं कि पाकिस्तान का किसी और देश से भी झगड़ा हो सकता है। उन्हें नहीं पता कि अफगानिस्तान को किसी ने यकीन दिला दिया है कि उनका असली दुश्मन तो रूप बदलकर उनका दोस्त बनकर बैठा था। पर मेरा अपना नकली भेष भी उतर गया जब एक बुज़ुर्ग सिख आदमी ने , मुस्कुराकर कहा — “ साहब जी , चाय पियोगे ?” मैंने हँसकर कहा , “ मैं को...