Jay Rege’s Blog

On a lazy Wednesday morning when I answered the ringing phone, the voice on the other end of the line shrieked with enthusiasm “Heyyyyy, What’s Up Dude !”. The accent was American but the caller was very much Indian. I was almost certain that the call was a ‘wrong number’, but before I could hang up on who I thought was some kid with a call-centric accent, the voice in all excitement yelled again “Hey Jay, it’s me dude. ..Andy”. Now I didn’t know who Andy was, but al least the guy had got my name right. And before I could ask ‘Andy..Who?’, Mr. Andy reintroduced himself “Andy Banerjee…from college”.

The words Banerjee and college brought back memories, and it didn’t take me long to realize that the caller was none other than my college friend Anand Banerjee. The last I had spoken to Anand was about a year ago before he had moved to the US of A on an assignment. That probably explained the ‘Andy’ and the accent, but why was he calling me ‘Dude’? I am not ‘Dude’ and I don’t like ‘Dude’. For me the character ‘dude’ resembles an image of a punk looking guy with body piercings, tattoos, and highlighted hair, with jeans hanging low enough to show off the tags on the underwear and cover most of socks and shoes too. And I am nowhere close to that. I don’t have any part of my body pierced or tattooed and I would any day prefer people noticing the tick mark on my shoes rather than them getting a sneak peak into my VIP status.

After a short conversation over phone, Andy and I decided to meet up at a local bar that evening. On my way to the bar I was trying to imagine the transformed Andy but thankfully at a physical level he was still the same. There was nothing Americanized in his appearance, accept for the few extra pounds (he insisted on calling them ‘extra pounds’ and not kilos or fat) that he had put on. But his accent had changed. I had no issues with that actually. I can comfortably follow American Accent and even Indian English (and Hindi too) spoken in a phony American Accent. (And just for the record, I can even follow English spoken with a Chinese accent). So when Andy told the waiter “Khaan I get a battle of Wataah” and the waiter had a confused look on his face trying to figure out what drink is the ‘Wataah’, I was prompt enough in clarifying that all he needs was a ‘bottle of Water’.

My only problem with Andy was his referring me as ‘Dude’, and he was doing it more often than was necessary. Every second sentence had the word ‘Dude’ in it. I was almost tempted to tell him “Stop calling me Dude”, but after a while I kind of started enjoying the attention. I thought ‘Maybe I look ‘Dude’ish’. So what if I wear my jeans at waist levels, so what if I don’t have any punctures or tattoos on my body, so what if I don’t even have little sprouts of beard growing under my lower lips, I still got style of my own. I can be ‘Dude’. I always knew Andy considered me a friend, philosopher, guide and confidante, maybe he now thinks I am upbeat and trendy too. I could see that in his eyes. Maybe Andy thinks I am cool. Yes I am cool. I am DUDE.’

Vodka served with an overdose of ‘Dude’ can have an extremely ego gratifying effect on a person like me, is what I found out that evening. The ‘Dude’ effect was indeed flattering. Although my looks were still the same, I thought I now had a changed outlook. I was Dude. That evening as I passed by the mirror in the bedroom I paused a bit, to have a good second look at Dude Jay.

PS: For those who are wondering what a lazy Wednesday is, well its just a Wednesday on which I have either nothing much to do or too bored to do anything. And if by any chance this article has raised even the slightest doubt in your mind about my sexual orientation and preferences, then just shrug it off. I just want to clarify that I am very much a Straight Cool Dude -:)

Dear M – This ones dedicated to you -:)

It all started a couple of years ago during an online conversation with this young lady over gtalk. The nature of our conversations was professional in nature. One fine day during such a conversation she said ‘BRB’ and then there was a long pause from her end. Earlier too she had used terms like LOL and some characters like :D, :P and other combinations of symbols like :, :, > and characters, that I didn’t understand much, but I always chose to ignore them thinking that those were just some expressions she used. But when BRB happened, I started wondering ‘What could ‘BRB’ mean?’, That was the first time I had hear the term and I thought really hard. I tried various combinations from my vocabulary of words beginning with B and R and the eureka moment fortunately was not far away. I soon figured out what it meant. BRB means ‘Bath Room Break’. Yes, that’s exactly what I thought :-) and I was happy I could figure it out. Sounds funny now, but yes its true. That’s what I thought it meant :-)

But it sure did puzzle me a bit. ‘Why did she have to tell me where she was going?’ I wondered. I mean she could just say she had to go somewhere or just say something else. Why did she have to be so honest? But then I thought maybe it was just her age factor or then maybe her inability to think under ‘pressure’ :-) - that she could not think of something else to say under those circumstances. Well my thought process was interrupted by her message, ‘I am back’ and we continued our discussion from where we had left before the break.

As days passed I noticed that the frequency of her BRBs gradually increased. At times I was really tempted to tell her not to update me on her every single break. If she has to go, just go. Don’t tell me, just go. She need not be so honest either. At times, especially on days when she had many BRBs, I was also tempted to tell her to seek medical advice on her frequent breaks. But as I said before, the nature of our relationship was purely professional and I didn’t know if she would take offence to my recommendations. So I just kept shut, waiting patiently for her to return from her breaks, only hoping that all was fine with her.

It wasn’t until the day she typed ROFLMAO that I actually figured out what a BRB meant. During a conversation she typed ROFLMAO, and it was actually too cryptic an acronym for my brain to figure out. So when the eureka moment didn’t come even after racking my brains for a long time (and I didn’t want to show my ignorance either by asking her what it meant), I sought assistance from Google. ‘Rolling On Floor Laughing My Ass Off’ was what it meant according to a website on Urban Acronyms and Chat Lingo. Now just out of curiosity I started browsing through the website, trying to update my knowledgebase when I stumbled on BRB there. ‘Be Right Back’ was all it said.

The truth shall set you free. That’s exactly how I felt when I read that. I frantically searched other sites for BRB, but there was no reference of the bathroom anywhere. I was happy that this lady didn’t have a medical problem, and was relieved that her breaks were not actually to relieve herself. I was happier that I was saved from what could have been an embarrassing situation had I actually discussed my concerns on her honesty and her health with her. It would definitely have sent her off doing a ‘ROFLMAO’.

Nevertheless, I think I have a graphical imagination. So when somebody says a ROFLMAO my brain invariably tries to imagine them doing that. So please while talking to me stick to the normal ‘ha ha’ or at the most a ‘lol’ (which by the way, I had figured out that same day that it meant ‘Laughs Out Loud’). I don’t want to imagine you rolling anywhere or running away to take your breaks :-)

Out on a date at a fine restaurant, with a fine lady, we ordered momos for starters. Now if you are wondering what a momo is, well it’s a Tibetan/Nepali delicacy made out of minced meat (pork or chicken), wrapped individually as a dumpling and steamed, served with a special sauce/chutney and soup. (If you are still interested in finding out more about the momo, you can Google it out). And just in case you are wondering whom was I out on a date with and when and where and etc etc.. then ..Nah, I am NOT telling you anything more on that, so just get over it and continue reading.

So after a while the waiter arrives with a plate of hot, steaming, yummy looking momos and what do I notice ‘Oh Oh.. there are 7 momos on the plate’. Now how much I hate being in such an ‘odd’ situation. I mean, how could those restaurant guys do this to us? 2 people and 7 momos?? Do they not understand that 7 is a number that is not divisible by 2? Could they just not make it 8 momos? Or maybe even 6 (but nah.. considering what they were charging for a plate of momos, I think I would rather go with 8 than 6). Anyways without the slightest display of anxiety or panic, we continued our conversation, savoring our way though the momos - one momo at a time. But as anticipated, I soon faced the situation I had dreaded. We were down to that Last Momo on the plate.

It’s a tough situation I tell you. On one hand you really want that momo, but then you don’t want to make it look obvious either. You have an image to protect (I think). In such a situation, carrying on with the conversation and acting as if you are paying attention to what the lady is saying and enjoying it too, is a real challenge. Because the only thought that’s hammering you in the head is ‘Who’s gonna eat that last momo?’. But I think I was still doing a fine job at acting normal and enjoying the conversation, and I doubt if my date had realized that I had lost her to that last momo a while ago. And that’s when she uttered those golden words. She said “Go ahead, finish that momo”.

It was a moment of ecstasy. It was bliss. Without the slightest hesitation whatsoever, I dug the fork (which I was all the while still holding in my hand) into the momo, dipped the momo in the sauce and gulped it down. I thought I had done this as gracefully as I could, without revealing the euphoria I was experiencing as the momo found its way into my stomach, caressing my soul on its way down; but a look at her face, didn’t take me long to realize that I was totally wrong. I don’t know what exactly gave me away. Maybe it was the haste with which I gulped down the momo, or maybe it was the look and love in my eyes (for the momo of course), or maybe it was the broad grin on my face; but whatever it was, it was enough for me to understand that along with the momo I had gulped down on the little ounces of chivalry that I thought I was carrying along all this while. Well no issues. Chivalry and I were never on good terms anyways. So no regrets on losing it :-)

But I am not the type who would give up that easily. I tried to justify my actions by arguing that it was she who had offered me that last momo. I even asked her “Had I offered you that momo, would you have eaten it?“, to which she replied “Of course I wouldn’t”. “So fine, then what’s the complaint about?” was my reaction. But apparently things were not as fine and simple as they should have been. I wanted that momo and she didn’t want it; she wanted me to display a little more chivalry and I guess I didn’t have it.

Needless to say, that when the bill arrived, and she offered to pay, I obliged to her request and let her do the honor. Anyways I had lost grace. Let me not lose my money too - is what I thought :-). Yup, I know I can be smart at times :-)

PS: Just for the record, I am planning to file a PIL (Public Interest Litigation) against all restaurants serving odd number of starters to a party of two. Anybody willing to join me in this noble cause?

“Well, I think, we should go in for a second opinion” was what my uncle said when the doctor recommended a minor surgical procedure as remedy to his ailment. No this is not what he told the doctor; this is what he told us. But on second thoughts, knowing my uncle, it wouldn’t have surprised me, had he told this to the doctor too. Yup, bluntness (or rather lack of tactfulness) runs in the family. Anyways, coming back to the discussion on ‘second opinions’, well I have nothing against second opinions. But what amuses me is how somehow for many, the ‘second opinion’ seems to be more believable than the first.

When it comes to opinions, the second almost always beats the first one hands down. The second doctor somehow is always right-:) I just at times wonder, if that’s the case, why do people not consult the second one first? Why is he second? And this rule applies to almost every professional advice, not just doctors. In fact at times the ‘second opinion’ is so powerful, that it is valued even if it does not come from a qualified professional. Being ‘second’ is all that matters. I have seen people chuck away a doctor’s prescription just because a stranger they met in the bus suggested an alternate remedy. That’s the power of the ‘second opinion’!

But I should admit, whomever it comes from, it’s rare for opinions to coincide. The second has to invariably differ from the first. And in this world of varying opinions, where everybody is entitled to one, I try to stick to mine, secretly hoping that mine happens to be the ‘second’ one.

PS: I am NOT ‘opinionated’. Its just that I am always right -:)

(please read the earlier blog on the ‘the Papaya Factor’ before this one)….coming back to the discussion on food in cosmetics, I think the credit for being a pioneer in this arena goes to our good old friend the ‘lemon’. I remember as a kid, when the lemon swiftly made his move from Limca to Lyril (that soap with a strong lemony fragrance). That was definitely a path breaking move. I am now told that Limca contains ‘no fruit juice or pulp’, and I wonder if the Limca guys decided to put that disclaimer after the lemon left them to shower with the dancing girl under the waterfall (remember the Lyril ads -:) ). But never mind, it doesn’t matter now. The lemon is still a hero. Some might argue that the ‘clove’ beats the ‘lemon’ in the ‘food in cosmetic’ race, as the clove was the first to feature in a toothpaste - remember the ‘Promise’ toothpaste we had back then. But frankly, for many including me, the toothpaste is still a semi-food item and not a cosmetic. It goes in your mouth and traces of it might accidentally end up in your stomach – like the chewing gum. Nevertheless I still credit the lemon as pioneer for bringing about a revolution in the ‘food in cosmetic’ industry.

For a while, the lemon was on a roll. He made his presence felt everywhere from beauty soaps, to shampoos, to shaving creams and even the talcum powder. But then somewhere down the line he lost it. The lemon’s biggest mistake, I think, was he became over ambitious and accepted offers from even the non cosmetic guys. The lemon was everywhere. You could find him in dishwashing soaps, air fresheners, and window cleaners. That’s when the cosmetic guys knew they needed a new fruit and the lemon lost his charm.

The crush of the lemon led to the rise of the orange, banana, papaya, peach, green apple, avocado, and others. The rules of the game were simple. If you needed a place in cosmetics, you need to be photogenic and you needed to sound exotic. Taste didn’t matter. Hence the jackfruit never made it. I feel sorry for the ‘chikoo’ too. But the one who undoubtedly created a sensation in the industry was ‘Aloe Vera’. The guy just rocked the cosmetic world. He was like “Wow!” I mean the guy had the looks and even had a first and last name. That’s so very hep! And most important, many people didn’t know what an Aloe Vera was (many still don’t). That gave him an added exclusivity making him even more desirable.

Hopefully Aloe doesn’t make the same mistake as the lemon did, and keeps a close eye on Jojoba. The Gillette guys already have Jojoba in one of their shave gels, and I don’t think it would take the Jojoba long to catch up in the race. But fortunately, thanks to food lovers like me, I am sure there is enough room for both the Aloe and Jojoba (and a few more are welcome too) in our shampoo bottle and our shave gels.

PS: When is Lifebuoy coming up with an Aloed version? I think the red soap is a little harsh on my delicate and sensitive skin :-)