Rehab program for people who missed Chris Martin's gig

Friends, after the previous article, I just came across this...

Rehab program for people who missed Chris Martin's gig  Shashank Tiwari | Jul 3, 2015, 01.36 PM IST

People of Delhi were recently left disappointed and surprisingly it had nothing to do with the Aam Aadmi Party. Chris Martin, lead singer of popular band Coldplay, paid a secret visit to the bar in Delhi and played an impromptu acoustic set.

As soon as the news spread, people cursed their luck and displayed their frustration on social media. Even guys who had never heard of Coldplay jumped on the bandwagon to garner attention. To restore normalcy, Delhi government is working on a rehabilitation program for the heartbroken fans.

"If the Aam Aadmi Party is really so concerned about the welfare of the common man, why was not anyone informed about the Chris Martin gig. Every time there is a stupid dharna or some rally, it is publicized through TV, radio and newspaper. But not a word was let out about Chris Martin's performance," said an ardent Coldplay fan who had to be rushed to the nearest rehab centre.

Another heartbroken fan who shared his favorite Coldplay song with us said, "You know that song about the death of a parrot which goes like, "parrot parrot parrot dies" gives me goose bumps every time I listen to it." It took our Mocktale reporter a while to figure out that he was talking about the song "Paradise."

The rehab program will try to fix people who have gone almost crazy by repeatedly playing Coldplay's famous song "Fix you."

Chris Martin was impressed to find out that he had so many fans in India and said every one should buy tickets for his next show to watch him perform. People of Delhi including die-hard Coldplay fans who have become so accustomed to free stuff under Kejriwal's government showed no interest in the news.    

Excuse me but aren't you...? [Click To Enlarge]

Jul 05 2015 : The Times of India (NaviMumbai)

WHY SO SER1OUS - Excuse me but aren't you...?

Vikramjit Singh(The writer is a stand-up comedian )





New Yorkers often talk of how often they enter a coffee shop and spot people like Woody Allen working casually . Or an A-list Hollywood star joining a street performer. Things like that don't happen in India. We hardly ever see celebrities in their natural habitat. 

We don't go to Juhu beach and spot Amitabh Bachchan enjoying a gola. Which is great for Amitabh Bachchan, because otherwise, he'd have to answer a lot of questions. “Sir, how to get so tall, sir? Bless my son, sir“ “Sir, do you and Abhishek Sir and Aishwarya mam sing Kajra Re everyday? Tell na, please“ everyday? Tell na, please“ You get the drift.

Even so, a great thing happened at a Delhi bar last Wednesday . Chris Martin, the lead vocalist of British band Coldplay , performed for about 50 unsuspecting listeners on a whim, making them the most hated people in the country . The crowd grooved to acoustic versions of Coldplay's greatest hits, while the bar owner grooved to the sound of free publicity .
 Delhi people who weren't there cried at the missed opportunity of a selfie and a facebook checkin.
Bombay people who weren't there cried at something cool happening in Delhi, “of all places“.
  Bangalore people who weren't there were, umm, okay: they've never been anywhere post 11pm.

City clichés apart, it surely was a sign of changing times that so much noise was made in India over international music.Because otherwise, our countrymen have the endearing quality of walking up to a dubstep DJ and going “BHAI BOLLYWOOD BAJA NA!“ More importantly , the fact that there have been no reports yet of a Delhi guy going “Perform at my farmhouse, Chris, I pay double. Otherwise I shoot“, tells us that we might finally be learning how to behave with famous people. Because traditionally , we never have. We could be anyone, but show us a celebrity and we go crazy .

I remember this time I was stuck at Hyderabad airport after a delayed flight and I heard some typically angry comments. “ Airline sucks. Airport sucks. Government sucks. Country sucks. You suck.“ Until someone saw a familiar face and shouted “OH MY GOD, LOOK! RAJPAL YADAV!!“ and the delayed flight became the best thing to have happened to everyone there. No celebrity is ever too irrelevant to get excited about.
But this whole Chris Martin episode sets such a good precedent. The bar has been raised. Now if I don't see important people in unexpected places, I'll be very disappointed. Like, politicians in the parliament throughout the entire session. Or, Virat Kohli in a Vipassana course.So cute! I dare you not to go `Aww' in a squeaky voice, even if you're the most macho bouncer in a Gurgaon pub.

And I hope this pleasure isn't restricted to just a certain strata of the Twitter-ized, bar hopping, iPhone owning strata of the society . We've got to let the benefits seep down to the deepest levels. I look forward to the day autowallahs and migrant labourers call for a strike because they just found Altaf Raja singing at a chai stall. Never mind the awkwardness Bangladeshi workers would feel on hearing `Tum toh tthehre pardesi'. It'll be a great vibe, and I hope we become the kind of country where people break into unexpected jigs and states of trance at will.

Into that heaven of freedom, my father, let my country awake.

When You Have A Mouse In Your House...

3rd day of May 2015, Sunday night.

 

I came home from a long, lazy dinner at Tawa with cousins. The trash bins were open in the society afflicted with as bad a smell I ever smelled. We ran into the lift but the odor had left us tongue-out-of-mouth. We watched the T.V. for a while and slumbered off on the sofa. My sister, being scrupulous, waked my brother and me up and directed our way into the bedroom.

A sudden thirst clenched me. In a sluggish manner, I drank plenty of cold water from the fridge. In the darkness, I saw the kitchen platform as I drank, a cute round beetroot stared at me—I smiled back at it. In a blink, it disappeared—I thought……nothing. As I resumed my way, I heard some rattle in the fridge, I stopped—some more cute chik-chik kinda sound— I, being in the dream of cheering Rohit Sharma, became fully aware and had an urge to look in the fridge. I opened it deftly. Due to bright light, I could see some round shape. I said to myself,”Ooohh!!! Prachi, tis the beetroot, nothing else.” 

 

  Slowly, I realized the beetroot had a very long tapering root, two big leaves at its top….. ”Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrr…” The beetroot threw the hollow tomato at me, jumped over me as I ducked and hid somewhere.  By this time, I must have awakened the whole society. In a flash, the house became well-lit and my parents and cousins rushed with horrified, aghast faces with deep Vs on their foreheads. I, the fool, shouted again seeing them with such expressions. I ran and climbed the sofa, others stood confused.

 I said,”bbbbeetroot…..beetrat…huh?....rat!!!”

“What, Rat!!” yelled my cousin sister, brother and mother in unison and came towards the sofa.

My father never misses such chances where he can flaunt his courage, especially when others in the family back out. 

He said, “I see… where it is—the creature—it cannot run away from me…”

He, at once, took the broom and set in the kitchen—filled with utensils—all alone.

Here, we three looked at each other. The people outside were furious.  We could hear their chatter. One of them rang our bell. Startled by the sound, the mouse came from under the computer table and went behind the wooden case.

We told my father that the mouse has come into the drawing room. He smashed at some vessel and the jingle and ringing of the steel vessels echoed in the silence. The mouse quickly came and hid under the book shelf. ….So, there were two of them—the tenacious, obdurate, senseless, fanatic creatures.

My parents apologized the neighbors and told what had ensued. They went to their home—sweet home, having no rats. My father again took to the broom and did some weird things like making us jump so that the mice can come out, or taking a big utensil and using it as a trap or shaking the book shelf.

My sister went and opened the balcony door so that we can put the mice out anyhow.

I took the hit spray and my brother brought a fresh tomato. I sprayed it nicely on the tomato with an evil smile on my face. My mother brought some biscuits and bread pieces. We respectfully offered these with the tomato in the center of the plate and biscuits decorated in a circle around it.

We waited for an hour in my parents’ room and about 3:00 am, we woke up.

We saw that the biscuits and bread was eaten but the tomato was left unharmed. The direction of the crumbs and their little footprints were in the way of the balcony.

So it could be said that they were out of the house.

 

Next morning, I learnt that the two boys staying in the room very next to ours, did not even get up during the incident that happened that early morning. I wondered what these lazy boys would do if there was some fire or some earthquake….or if the two mice were dancing over them in the night and partying in their house.

The two came to us in the afternoon and said, “There were two squeaky mice in our house this morning while we’re getting ready for college. They ate our sandwiches…..”