How to write a perfect Cover Letter...

And so it all started as just another day and ended up like this... I always knew I had a part of my ass inside my head so it always felt a bit larger than the rest of my body... anyway, what’s the use cursing myself when I have ‘do the do’...

So I had a career day at college today and companies came to sell themselves to us... can you imagine how much the poor career cell head would have had to slog to get even those 4 companies on board in this time of recession... I mean it’s the worst kind of profile in these tough times... to try and get a bunch of dopey looking-‘trying to act smart’ type-college ruffians, some work to do...

Anyway so one particular guy who had come from one particular company was acting particularly cool and I went up to him at the end of the session to ask one particular question “If I send you my cover letter... do you want me to be brutally honest or painstakingly diplomatic?” and he confirmed in favour of the former... So here goes my Cover-Letter to him...

Dear XYZ,

You have seen me already so you know I am of slight disposition but of towering claims...

I was born and brought up in a small town with a bunch of morons for siblings and an activist for a father. He thought he was save-guarding my human rights by keeping me off all men except the three in my family... So the first thing I did when I got my first salary check was to call my dad and tell him “Hey dad! I am independent now and I have a boy friend... Oh! By the way he is Muslim...”

I guess by now you must have gathered how much of a free, sovereign mind I have and oh! Also a self-starter... did you not use this specific word when you were selling your company?

Anyway... about being able to work in teams... let me carry forward the theme of my boy-friends to explain how I truly am an adjusting person. I have made a record number of 7 boyfriends in my life so far of which 2 were Muslims (one Shia and the other Sunni), two Christians (Protestant and Catholic... the latter asked me to convert and I showed him my back side...), then there was a Sikh and one nonbeliever... one of them spoke a lot about his car and his father’s money so I never got to figure out his religion, though he was a good kisser... So that’s the story of my national integration sealed with a kiss... At the end of which, I have prudently adjudged a settlement over a south Indian boy as that part of the nation was hitherto unharmed by my manoeuvres. Believe me when I say that I have the ability to integrate teams...

Once the team work issue is resolved I would like to touch upon my hard working abilities... well you see I have been born and brought up in a third world nation. The phrase “working like a dog” that Beatles so cunningly added to their famous lyrics... came from my side of the fence...

Ah! and I forgot to mention my organisational and planning skills... Ok so here’s a lesson for you... never ask a woman this question... There’s no species better at planning and organising than Lady-dom and hence, it’s always a man who gets perfect surprises and it’s always a woman who is left only dreaming of them...

About my intellect, I’ll tell you a thing or two... I am smart, young and I look good... that’s half the battle won... I’m sure you won’t pay me more than what is worth winning half a battle for anyway...

Finally coming to the question of having the writing skills... if you’ve still not figured out then you will never figure out...

I hope I have satisfied you completely and now I hope to hear from you soon so I could exhibit my linguistic skills as well...

I was a woman in an electronics store!!

What does it take to be a woman in an electronics store? Ensure that you know nothing...

I experienced the bitter-sweet brainlessness of my own today at an electronics store...

Sumeet (my partner) and I went to buy an iMac at the world’s largest Apple store (well this is the only thing I can boast I know... doesn’t take too much brain for this though). Now this is a system that Sumeet has been lusting after, before I entered his life and so I was spared the embarrassment of having to see him stand outside Apple stores with his horns sticking out. But today he almost hit me with one of those very horns man! The reason being my shameless womanhood...

So here’s the scenario. At half past three Sumeet and I entered the store fully loaded with cash and my student ID card since King’s College students get 12% discount on the machine we were buying... Sumeet’s mouth was dripping with longing for the iMac Quad-core (Oops! I was just about to write Quad-pro... save me man-God!!)

The store assistant (SA) positively-certainly confirmed that they only have the Dual-core and the one that we want is out of stock... I shot my first question...

Me: What’s a Quad-Core any way? (After trying myriad ways of explaining to me and failing... here came the master stroke that did it...)

SA: It’s basically a man with a multiple personality disorder...

Me: And what’s this RAM thingi?? (By now the assistant had entered my brain and was sitting inside comfortably)

SA: It’s like a re-usable plastic bag.

Me: And how much can it contain?

SA: Near about 4000 potatoes and you can pay some extra bucks and buy a bigger one that would carry 16000 potatoes...

Me: Wow! That’s a lot. I’d never be able to use that much space... but then if I have this plastic bag then why do I need this 1-tera byte Hard disk crap?

SA: Oh! Well you’d need to keep your vegetables safe in some place right... so it’s like the Refrigerator...

Me: Ok I promise this is my last question or Sumeet will kill me... What the hell is this damn Graphic card that one has to pay 200 quids for?

SA: Ok tell me when you want a complete face-lift and when you’re in a mood to look perfect what is it that does the magic?

Me: Oh! I could just visit a nice Salon on strand and spend hours getting a facial and some steam treatment done... to look bright, clean, fresh and young!!

SA: So this graphic card does exactly that to the graphic images on this machine... so now do you think all this money would be well spent?

Me: I guess this is the only way for me to feel that I am benefitting from my education... I mean getting a discount on the student’s card... so maybe yup! Makes sense...

By now Sumeet was dying to drag me out of the store cos I had embarrassed him and amused the passer-by’s enough for a day... or maybe a year... but I still had my House-wife-ly questions... like a pond that would never die!! I started to pour myself out, outside the the store.

“Baby if this is a desktop computer then where the hell is that phallic looking CPU”, I implored.

Possessed with anger yet restraining Sumeet: Sweetheart it’s in there... for once it’s not sticking out you see...

A lonesome night!!

It was simply mind numbing last night. Sumeet (my partner) was off to Germany for 2 days and I had to sleep alone... sleeping alone is like having to go partying alone... it’s so irritating...

I spent half the night staring at the walls and the rest of the half thinking since have nothing better to do so I might as well just keep staring at the walls...

Thoughts and sounds came flooding in... even the air walking in and out of my room seemed to disturb me and I freaking wanted it to shut-up... and then I started to think of this best friend of mine... now she is a TV actress back in India and she is really hot. But being hot had nothing to do with the creatives of the show deciding to put her as a vamp in the soap, and a terribly ugly one at that...

In essence a woman who looks like Denise Richards ends up looking like Donald Rumsfeld... so you see what make-up can do to people... and when such an ugly face enters the realm of your painful solitude... you just wish you had died or something.

So before I could recover from my self immolating thoughts... the vamp started to light a match-stick, just like she did in one of the episodes, and she dropped it on her greasy-shiny dress... I so wished she would just burn that ugliness but she instead started to call out for help...

I gasped... I jumped off my bed and shouted... cos I remembered that’s exactly what she did in one of her shows... and then the family came running to her rescue and the self victimised vamp won their sympathy...

Damn! I remembered how this particular episode had inspired one of my neighbour’s kid back in India. The moron went ahead and performed the same scene in front of his own family. I wanted to slap him tight when his mother came and told this to my mum... who is some sort of a social worker. She wanted us to talk to his son and show him the better looking, the real side of my best friend... so he knew that reality is nothing like fiction...

Ironically, the only picture of Anu that I had at that time was of her in a bikini... one of her portfolio pics... I moved to the UK a day after this event...

God knows what that lamp-brain would have done to himself after seeing his ideal and my best friend in a bikini...

 

Attention!! or Stand at ease!!

Today I took a record 5 hours to read a 32 page article man!!... It could mean 2 things... either the author was a total nincompoop who actually came up with such a whole lot of randomness or that my attention span is that of a fish... I can go round and round a million times and still find the same point new and novel... or it could mean both at the same time.

Either ways... I so I wish I was a fish in an aquarium... it’s a simple life really... someone will change the water for you, feed you and stare at you for hours so you never let your vanity rest. All you need to do is look pretty and not feast on the plastic pieces that kids like to drop into to the aquarium under the eyes of their parents...

I can’t stand such wicked kids... they remind me of George Bush in his nappy pads... not that I ever saw him in them but I’m sure he still has to wear them... considering how easily he’d get wet at the mention of the word “oil”...

I sometimes wonder what would be of the world if all men were to be so effortlessly excitable... All the top positions would be held by women cos the men would be home, running their pants through a dryer...

But if dryers were to run all the time, it would dry up our energy resources faster than the pants themselves... what will become of Obama’s ethical war against Climate Change...

Ah! That explains why he allowed Shell to dig oil and gas fields in the Arctic... now even if it’s a ghastly step away from his Ethical War... it sure helps him keep his pants dry... After all the odds of not allowing so were almost as bad as a Black-Male... I mean blackmail.

Oh! But I was talking about a 32 page article and look where I’ve come... attention crisis is it!!

When your ball gets tired... your brain starts functioning!!

Not very long ago in time... the Neanderthals lived by the rule of daggers and axes... the spill-overs of those in this sophisticated age and time now fancy the use of brain for a change... Beware of them, cos they always move around in groups for fear of attack from the superior race. They are called Shiv Sane-Dicks and they are so obsessive about guarding their autonomy, their existence, that they shun parting from anything that has to do with them... every bit of them is precious... even their faeces and so they don’t let it drain... they carry it around in their brain... explains why their heads are so full of crap.

Their last survivors are scattered around pockets in Maharashtra where they have spread havoc by applying rules from their era... no one can kiss in public areas, Bihari population is not allowed entry into what they call their domain and this one is especially interesting... they are trying to champion the Hindi Language... all shops, offices, public and private places have to have their names engraved in Hindi along with their English counterparts....

So the other day I came across a particularly interesting Hindi version of a book shop’s name... Lundmark (Dick-Mark) for Landmark... explains why a man called Ball-Thak-Re (literally translates to “Balls are tired”) would have suggested this absurd rule. So tired of using his balls that he prefers using his brain over them... god knows how his poor wife manages...

But that’s exactly what a highly accomplished journalist asked him once on a highly accomplished TV show...

Journalist: So Mr. Ball Thank-re (BTR)... what does your wife do?

BTR: She doesn’t have to do much... I have an entire Sena (Army) to do her... Oh! I mean to do for her...

Journo: So what does your Sena do when it’s not doing your... I mean, doing for your wife...

BTR: Oh! Then it’s doing those who are doing out in the open.

Journo: Oh but Ball you should atleast allow people to do out in the open on Valentine’s Day... it’s a day of love...

BTR: We don’t stop anyone from doing... we just ask them to keep their eyes open while they do... our Sane-Dicks could be round the corner... Besides, we did a Dick-Stick survey and we found out that our policies are widely accepted...

Journo: One of them being you hatred for the Biharis... What do you have against them?

BTR: I don’t have anything against them. I just don’t like the balls of their Hairy-eared leader... they are like amoeba man! He’s produced 9 off-springs through them and they are still going strong.

Journo: Oh! So it’s really about the Balls at the end of it... explains your interest in cricket... I heard you recently wrote an open letter of discontent to Sachin Tendulkar condemning his statement “I am an Indian first and a Maharashtrian later...” must have been hard-on you to take this nonsense...

BTR: Oh! By the grace of Shivaji, I am never subject to hard-on (s). It was a common place matter and I wrapped it off by warning him to keep his balls confined to the cricket field...

Journo: Well played sir! Thank you so much for this enlightening talk. I’m sorry I can’t get up... my balls are stuck to the seat...

BTR: Bollocks!!

Life after marriage

Life after marriage has wicked ways of getting itself noticed. You'd read about it in places but you won't notice it until you're in it... like the billboard for a Russian Play at the Eastbound Circle line platform at the Liverpool Street Station... I really never noticed it until I actually started to learn Russian...

And now I am one of the privileged majority that surrenders itself for the cause of humanity... privileged cos I have the power of knowledge... and how I use this knowledge is by warning those who haven’t as yet done the deal. But I know I fight a fallen battle...

Life after marriage is like gulping a spoonful of English Mustard... there’d be lots of those who’d warn you against it... including myself.... but that will only bolster your courage to try what it really is...

Believe me it blows your nostrils and it enters your system with such gusto that you won’t have time to turn back time. It will blind you, make you the extreme opposite of immobile, the bitter repudiate of insouciance, the culpable antithesis of ecstatic, the antonym of every antonym... and the first antonym you will most relate to after marrying... or eating a spoonful of English Mustard... will be that of “LOVE”

Life after marriage is the process of being shaken out of inertia... it’s almost like the quick fix change of an age old authoritarian regime to a democracy... look what happened to India when the British left us suddenly... there was chaos, a civil war, lots of deaths and a divided nation... do you remember the rampant looting in Iraq when the Saddam Regime was toppled... Oh! How would you remember... neither were you present there... nor are you an International Relations student like me... who’d care for such news... Anyway! The point is... Life after marriage kicks you out of subliminal reveries of singlehood and makes you an amaranthine temporal asinine... an everlasting materialistic dim-wit is what I meant to say in simple English...

It changes everything you ever believed in... Especially this one... almost all of us grew up under aegis of good parenthood that taught us to share everything. So we started off by looking for someone we could share our love with... in the life after marriage... you want to suck back all that love out of that same person... so you feel like the death eaters of Harry Potter...

Conversations change from:

A: Baby I love...

B: But baby I love you more...

To

A: Baby I still love you...

B: But I’m not so sure...

Strangely, rhyming... but that’s how life after marriage is... it takes you go round in riddles... and you pay a heavy price for this ride...

But don’t believe me... cos it’s really not all so bad... and after all I don’t want to be the one to be blamed for your screwed up barren-land of a life...

I just had an argument with my sweetheart over who will wash the utensils and he finally succumbed to my pressure... now that I have nothing better to do with myself as I sit pointlessly in front of this godforsaken laptop... with whom I spend more time than with my husband... I just feel like writing rubbish and that’s what I just did...