It was a long weekend. So I went away. I got on a bus and left the echoing booming of Jamal Bhai's voice behind. It's been rattling in my brain.
So, this return (the third consecutive blog entry to herald my return) is official.
Rest assured, I still view you with utmost contempt and think of you as the puny maggots that you are. But there's something I want to address before proceeding further.
The gloomy, dark and depressing turn of events on February 25, the weekend that had everyone in Bangladesh gripped, shocked and stunned had a major hand in the temporary shutdown of this blog. I'll say no more, as I don't feel this is the appropriate forum to talk about that.
Immediately after that, it seemed wrong for me to post on a blog dedicated to the light and humourous treatment of the darkness in my heart. I stayed away, giving myself time. That weekend unfolded and we heard stories and saw images that shook us to the core.
Slowly, life started going on. As it must. Don't forget, but don't let darkness drag you down.
It started raining on the bus back into Dhaka. It feels like months since it's rained. Maybe it has been months. But it seemed like a sign. Wash the bad feelings away. At the risk of sounding callous, I am moving forward, and back into my little world of petty bitching.
I got off the bus and a car almost drove over my foot.
I have returned.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Return of the King
Yeah, so after coming back from my last break, I went on another break.
But the long-awaited next post is coming...in the next few days.
Stay cool.
But the long-awaited next post is coming...in the next few days.
Stay cool.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Pintu Returns (And Still Hates You)
I am back. It was time to take a little time away, clear my head.
In my last post, I wrote about perhaps experiencing a rare calming moment. Then a bird shat on my face.
If you've missed me, good for you.
What's that, I hear you ask: have you missed me, Pintu?
If you're slowly roasting in a burning hell for two weeks, do you tend to think about peanuts?
By now, you're well acquainted with antics at the office. Now my co-workers are chirpier and more determined to succeed while simultaneously annoying the living shit out of me. It's like walking into a circus for over-achieving orangutans every morning. Nothing's changed. I drink my tea, smoke my cigarettes. Bang my head on the desk.
The days are taking their toll.
I open my eyes every morning but all I see is fog. Constant thick fog, like some thick soup, if soup were a fog. There's no sunshine. When I walk, it's like those cartoons where a single black cloud hovers over one person's head. It's only raining on me. Because Jamal Bhai and co. are certainly basking in the sunlight of stupidvideos.com. I just hope some raindrops from the cloud on my head spills over onto his computer and short-circuits it, so that I could get some peace.
Spring is here. I light a cigarette and watch the world hurtle mindlessly forward.
A small child cries, and I think: good, better you learn how it is now.
A rickshaw gets rammed in the the back by another rickshaw. The passenger flies off, falls on the ground and gets up angry and covered in dirt. There is yelling. I smile.
A mosquito wildly miscalculates and flies straight into my clap of death. The resulting mess in my hands is bloody, but satisfying.
Everyday brings new challenges. Almost always they are...WORST.
In my last post, I wrote about perhaps experiencing a rare calming moment. Then a bird shat on my face.
If you've missed me, good for you.
What's that, I hear you ask: have you missed me, Pintu?
If you're slowly roasting in a burning hell for two weeks, do you tend to think about peanuts?
By now, you're well acquainted with antics at the office. Now my co-workers are chirpier and more determined to succeed while simultaneously annoying the living shit out of me. It's like walking into a circus for over-achieving orangutans every morning. Nothing's changed. I drink my tea, smoke my cigarettes. Bang my head on the desk.
The days are taking their toll.
I open my eyes every morning but all I see is fog. Constant thick fog, like some thick soup, if soup were a fog. There's no sunshine. When I walk, it's like those cartoons where a single black cloud hovers over one person's head. It's only raining on me. Because Jamal Bhai and co. are certainly basking in the sunlight of stupidvideos.com. I just hope some raindrops from the cloud on my head spills over onto his computer and short-circuits it, so that I could get some peace.
Spring is here. I light a cigarette and watch the world hurtle mindlessly forward.
A small child cries, and I think: good, better you learn how it is now.
A rickshaw gets rammed in the the back by another rickshaw. The passenger flies off, falls on the ground and gets up angry and covered in dirt. There is yelling. I smile.
A mosquito wildly miscalculates and flies straight into my clap of death. The resulting mess in my hands is bloody, but satisfying.
Everyday brings new challenges. Almost always they are...WORST.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Further Proof of Crapness of Life
By some amazing coincidence, I got to enjoy a bit of sunshine yesterday. I managed to get out of work early.
The weather was pleasant. I felt calm.
Hang on, I hear you say. This is unsuitable material for this blog.
Oh, but wait.
As I looked up at some tree, a giant fat crow took a huge dump on my face.
The weather was pleasant. I felt calm.
Hang on, I hear you say. This is unsuitable material for this blog.
Oh, but wait.
As I looked up at some tree, a giant fat crow took a huge dump on my face.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Chickens
It's only inevitable that a Dhaka-based blog called "Worst" will eventually mention Dhaka traffic.
I commute. It's like being kicked in the head with steel sandals. In the morning the lines are longer than the waiting lists for BTNT phone numbers in the 90s. Crammed in with a random elbow in the face, hardly moving while breathing in special fragrances that smell like the lovechild of a sewer and a coal factory.
Inevitably someone accidentally steps on someone and that someone takes offense and starts yelling SHALA DEKHTE PAROS NA? But what are you going to do when it's so crowded. Once a guy apologized to someone on a seat for daring to be thrown back by the driver braking hard. The response was "SORRY BOLE KI HOBE? JA HOBAR HOISE." Then of course some know-it-all Modon Kumar will join in as judge and jury, engaging everyone in a bus-wide debate about the merits and demerits of
And you'd think with the bus engine and the honking outside people would have a hard time being heard. But oh they manage to yell just fine. To me it always sounds like chickens. It's all just :
(exchange between two people)
-- POKPOKPOKPOK POKAWWWWWKKK POKPOKPOKPOKPOK
-- pok. pokk paaaaaaaaaaaaawwwk.
-- POKAAAAWK!!! POK POK POK PAAAAAWK.
-- POK!?!?!?! POK POK POK POKPOKPOK!!!! POK PAAAAAAAWK!!!
(random guy joins in as "voice of reason"/"showoff wise-man"/"nosy dude")
-- Pok. Pok pok pokpokpok. Pok Pok.
(first guy takes offense)
-- PAWWWWWWWWK! PAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKA!!!
(nosy dude also gets incensed)
-- POKPOKPAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWKKKKKKK!!
All out battle.
And then its POK POK POK POK POK POK POK all over the bus.
It's around this time I realize it's only been ten minutes. Traffic's barely moving and there's about an hour and a half to go.
I commute. It's like being kicked in the head with steel sandals. In the morning the lines are longer than the waiting lists for BTNT phone numbers in the 90s. Crammed in with a random elbow in the face, hardly moving while breathing in special fragrances that smell like the lovechild of a sewer and a coal factory.
Inevitably someone accidentally steps on someone and that someone takes offense and starts yelling SHALA DEKHTE PAROS NA? But what are you going to do when it's so crowded. Once a guy apologized to someone on a seat for daring to be thrown back by the driver braking hard. The response was "SORRY BOLE KI HOBE? JA HOBAR HOISE." Then of course some know-it-all Modon Kumar will join in as judge and jury, engaging everyone in a bus-wide debate about the merits and demerits of
And you'd think with the bus engine and the honking outside people would have a hard time being heard. But oh they manage to yell just fine. To me it always sounds like chickens. It's all just :
(exchange between two people)
-- POKPOKPOKPOK POKAWWWWWKKK POKPOKPOKPOKPOK
-- pok. pokk paaaaaaaaaaaaawwwk.
-- POKAAAAWK!!! POK POK POK PAAAAAWK.
-- POK!?!?!?! POK POK POK POKPOKPOK!!!! POK PAAAAAAAWK!!!
(random guy joins in as "voice of reason"/"showoff wise-man"/"nosy dude")
-- Pok. Pok pok pokpokpok. Pok Pok.
(first guy takes offense)
-- PAWWWWWWWWK! PAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKA!!!
(nosy dude also gets incensed)
-- POKPOKPAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWKKKKKKK!!
All out battle.
And then its POK POK POK POK POK POK POK all over the bus.
It's around this time I realize it's only been ten minutes. Traffic's barely moving and there's about an hour and a half to go.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Paperwork is for Winners
After a short break mostly spent sticking my head in a pillow and screaming, I'm back.
All of last week could be described in the following manner:
Moronic Co-workers:
"We're going to hop, skip and jump into the office ready to catch up on all the work we neglected to do last week while we acted out our hidden tiger fantasies. Having secured a dubious victory in what basically amounted to the saddest display of the loss of our youth and our souls, we will walk about as if we've just won the World Cup. Thrice. While blindfolded and jumping on only one leg.
As a result we'll be elated at the prospect of long hours, no overtime and very little sleep for the next week.
Our overbearing sense of team spirit will not, however, be enough to actually get us to work more efficiently. But it will ensure that we go about every single activity with the maximum amount of !!!ENTHUSIASM!!! possible. Be it stapling printouts or rehearsing, practicing and executing a victory dance in one of our conference rooms."*
Jamal Bhai:
"Having displayed leadership skills and athletic ability on the football field, for my encore I will watch twice as many stupidvideos at double the volume. Since I am in higher spirits my laughter will be louder and more booming, at a special frequency that threatens to destroy Pintu's hearing and sanity."
Raju Bhai:
"I walk the earth as a sort of warrior priest with the spirit of a tiger. When I walk I leave footprints of fire. I am happy to be what I believe was the main drive behind our recent football glory, despite scoring no goals and almost causing serious mob violence. I am also happy to talk to you about my pivotal role in the game, whether you want me to or not.
Belal:
I now truly believe I am a tiger. When I greet people I ROAR a little. Of course it catches on really fast and before you know it, the office is filled with little moments met by someone going "RRRROOOOAAR!" and everyone else "roaring" in laughter.
Oh,
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHA
HA
HA
HA
Pintu:
"Worst, in a particularly worst way."
* yes, this really happened.
All of last week could be described in the following manner:
Moronic Co-workers:
"We're going to hop, skip and jump into the office ready to catch up on all the work we neglected to do last week while we acted out our hidden tiger fantasies. Having secured a dubious victory in what basically amounted to the saddest display of the loss of our youth and our souls, we will walk about as if we've just won the World Cup. Thrice. While blindfolded and jumping on only one leg.
As a result we'll be elated at the prospect of long hours, no overtime and very little sleep for the next week.
Our overbearing sense of team spirit will not, however, be enough to actually get us to work more efficiently. But it will ensure that we go about every single activity with the maximum amount of !!!ENTHUSIASM!!! possible. Be it stapling printouts or rehearsing, practicing and executing a victory dance in one of our conference rooms."*
Jamal Bhai:
"Having displayed leadership skills and athletic ability on the football field, for my encore I will watch twice as many stupidvideos at double the volume. Since I am in higher spirits my laughter will be louder and more booming, at a special frequency that threatens to destroy Pintu's hearing and sanity."
Raju Bhai:
"I walk the earth as a sort of warrior priest with the spirit of a tiger. When I walk I leave footprints of fire. I am happy to be what I believe was the main drive behind our recent football glory, despite scoring no goals and almost causing serious mob violence. I am also happy to talk to you about my pivotal role in the game, whether you want me to or not.
Belal:
I now truly believe I am a tiger. When I greet people I ROAR a little. Of course it catches on really fast and before you know it, the office is filled with little moments met by someone going "RRRROOOOAAR!" and everyone else "roaring" in laughter.
Oh,
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHA
HA
HA
HA
Pintu:
"Worst, in a particularly worst way."
* yes, this really happened.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Tiger vs. Tank - Part II
Click here for Part I.
10:45 a.m.
The game begins. The crowd roars with anticipation as I settle down on the sidelines and watch with a bit of disinterest. I really want a smoke.
Royal Bengal Raju's started yelling for the ball right off the bat. Jamal Bhai, actually quite a skilled player, is doing his best to ignore him. He's in possession of the ball; he sees a chance and takes a shot. Their keeper deflects it and a defender clears it, but we've put the pressure on. Bagher Bachcha Raju begins his complaining "you should've passed to meeeeeee" nonsense.
Belal's going ballistic in his tiger outfit. At one point he walks on all fours while roaring into the air. I'm sure this makes him feel like a tiger but it looks more like an overgrown toddler in a banana suit.
11:00 a.m.
Jamal Bhai scores a goal and we we're in the lead.
As soon as we score, Belal the dancing tiger claws menacingly at the air in front of Company Y spectators. It's like watching a yellow chingri mach dancing. Company X cheers him on, curling their hands into claws and imitating tiger roars. With all of them together they sound like a giant vacuum cleaner.
It's like a whole crowd of people going like this:
And then, of course, there's Belal:
RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!!!
In fact everyone's more into roaring and the inevitable chant of KILL EM ALL KILL EM ALL. We're corporate football heavyweights, leading not only in the game but clearly excelling in Moronic Team Spirit Olympics. I don't know whether to laugh or to cry.
11:07a.m.
Apparently at some point someone from Company Y decided that they needed to outdo Belal the Tiger Mascot.
So about FOUR OF THEM actually went home to work on making their own mascot THERE AND THEN. Word on the street is that this was under direct orders from their CEO.
Their mascot arrived late, but oh boy, was it with a bang.
Made of cardboard, it looked a little something like this:
With the big words BLOW 'EM UP painted on the side.
They went ballistic chanting BLOW EM UP BLOW EM UP and imitating explosion noises. One guy kept miming throwing grenades, another was pretend-firing a machine gun.
In a way it was a pure expression of the suppressed raw, bestial, violence that lurks deep within the hearts of men.
In another way, it was totally retarded.
Belal, sensing the falling morale of Company X puts in a valiant effort to raise spirits, but in vain. Company Y are on fire.
11:14 a.m.
Approriately, their team scores an equalizer just before...
11:15 a.m.
Half time.
Players drink some water and sit around. Jamal Bhai announces some substitutions and does his best to ignore Raju Bhai harping on and on: "if you just pass to me I would ensure optimum goal."
I'm playing in the next half.
11:30 - 11:58 a.m.
I tackle someone. Someone tackles me. It's a game. It's enjoyable enough. After a while one even learns to filter out Raju Bagh's voice. Although seeing a tiger and tank facing off in the corner of my eye and hearing people chanting to kill and blow up everyone reminds me that I want to be gone from this place soon.
11:59 a.m.
Right before the final whistle Jamal Bhai puts the ball in the back of their net. The tigers roar behind us. But the Tanks start protesting - apparently we'd just committed a foul and this goal wasn't valid.
Note to future corporate sports event managers. When you plan and budget everything out, include a referee that doesn't work at one of the competing companies.
The referee was our very own Fahim.
A dispute starts on the field, as it does in situations like these.
And then comes Genghis Khan himself, Raju Bhai. Into the faces of the other team. He's an annoying fat prick and we hold back because we work with him. One of their players, a large burly beast, does not work with him and does not hold back. He shoves Raju Bhai really hard, which is a sort of delightful sight for me. Raju Bhai gets up roaring like a...well, like a tiger and is yelling at the top of his lungs:
"Do you think this is game!? Huh! Bloody shit! Do you think its bloody game?"
Yes. Everyone kind of thought it was a game.
Raju Bhai lunges forward but we hold him back. The crowd starts to get fired up, too. KILL 'EM ALL KILL 'EM ALL BLOW 'EM UP BLOW 'EM UP!!!
Genghis Khan Raju breaks free and starts to rush towards his opponent who reacts swiftly. He puts all his weight forward and shoves Raju back. He lands on me and we both fall over. I get a bruise on my arm from falling. Ouch.
It's at this point that a mini-riot almost breaks out. It starts with Belal the Tiger putting his fist through their tank mascots costume, destroying it. Then escalates with Tank-Man pulling off Belal's mask and stomping on it. People start getting up from where they're sitting, chests out and noses flaring. Fingers point aggressively, and there's lots of "HOI HOI HOI OYE BETA OYE BETA CHUP KOR SHAAAAALAA!!"
I nurse my hurt arm, and in my head I hear 2 million voices chanting KILL 'EM ALL. Looking around its like everything's moving in slow motion. Raju Bhai still being held back, threatening to chop off his opponent's balls, the guy from their team yelling back with his veins and eyes popping out with unsuppressed rage. Belal and Tank-Man almost in tears as they nurse the tattered remains of their costumes.
Many of these people are supposedly the best and brightest in our country. They've studied at top institutions, some at home, some abroad. Everyday they make decisions that somehow, directly or indirectly, affect the lives of millions of people - consumers, labourers, whatever - and this is what it comes down to. Everyday, I witness grown men and women showing themselves for what they truly are - incompetent morons.
12 p.m.
Final whistle. Before the issue resolves, or blows out into full-on violence. Clearly someone just wanted it all to end. The Tigers roar WE WIN WE WIN WE WIN and the Tanks keep yelling DRAW DRAW DRAW. There's lots of booing all round. We have to sit around for the final ceremony. I'm still not certain if our last goal was allowed.
I nurse my bruise.
Our CEO speaks and he's all about how it's not about victory but about team spirit. How togetherness and drive can accomplish anything. I glance over at Belal with his broken mask, a deflated spirit if I ever saw one. Then their CEO gets up and talks a bit more about translating the same passion that we displayed today into the workplace and into the continued distribution of crappy cheap products at highly marked-up prices. That was the gist of it.
There's still half an hour to go before all the medals, trophies and self-congratulatory back-patting speeches.
But there's only one thing anyone needed to hear. And it's their CEO as he announces that the official decision has been made to allow the last goal.
The roaring is defeaning. I wonder if they can hear the chants of KILL 'EM ALL on the moon. But the blood fails to rush to my head, the adrenaline fails to pump through my veins. Everyday I make the motions in a game I have no stake in.
Yes, we're winners. But we're winners in a game of football between two corporate companies. Because we're winners we have to go in and work harder next week. And the week after. And the week after. And we're supposed to like it. The thought leaves me drained, exhausted.
10:45 a.m.
The game begins. The crowd roars with anticipation as I settle down on the sidelines and watch with a bit of disinterest. I really want a smoke.
Royal Bengal Raju's started yelling for the ball right off the bat. Jamal Bhai, actually quite a skilled player, is doing his best to ignore him. He's in possession of the ball; he sees a chance and takes a shot. Their keeper deflects it and a defender clears it, but we've put the pressure on. Bagher Bachcha Raju begins his complaining "you should've passed to meeeeeee" nonsense.
Belal's going ballistic in his tiger outfit. At one point he walks on all fours while roaring into the air. I'm sure this makes him feel like a tiger but it looks more like an overgrown toddler in a banana suit.
11:00 a.m.
Jamal Bhai scores a goal and we we're in the lead.
As soon as we score, Belal the dancing tiger claws menacingly at the air in front of Company Y spectators. It's like watching a yellow chingri mach dancing. Company X cheers him on, curling their hands into claws and imitating tiger roars. With all of them together they sound like a giant vacuum cleaner.
It's like a whole crowd of people going like this:
And then, of course, there's Belal:
RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!!!
In fact everyone's more into roaring and the inevitable chant of KILL EM ALL KILL EM ALL. We're corporate football heavyweights, leading not only in the game but clearly excelling in Moronic Team Spirit Olympics. I don't know whether to laugh or to cry.
11:07a.m.
Apparently at some point someone from Company Y decided that they needed to outdo Belal the Tiger Mascot.
So about FOUR OF THEM actually went home to work on making their own mascot THERE AND THEN. Word on the street is that this was under direct orders from their CEO.
Their mascot arrived late, but oh boy, was it with a bang.
Made of cardboard, it looked a little something like this:
With the big words BLOW 'EM UP painted on the side.
They went ballistic chanting BLOW EM UP BLOW EM UP and imitating explosion noises. One guy kept miming throwing grenades, another was pretend-firing a machine gun.
In a way it was a pure expression of the suppressed raw, bestial, violence that lurks deep within the hearts of men.
In another way, it was totally retarded.
Belal, sensing the falling morale of Company X puts in a valiant effort to raise spirits, but in vain. Company Y are on fire.
11:14 a.m.
Approriately, their team scores an equalizer just before...
11:15 a.m.
Half time.
Players drink some water and sit around. Jamal Bhai announces some substitutions and does his best to ignore Raju Bhai harping on and on: "if you just pass to me I would ensure optimum goal."
I'm playing in the next half.
11:30 - 11:58 a.m.
I tackle someone. Someone tackles me. It's a game. It's enjoyable enough. After a while one even learns to filter out Raju Bagh's voice. Although seeing a tiger and tank facing off in the corner of my eye and hearing people chanting to kill and blow up everyone reminds me that I want to be gone from this place soon.
11:59 a.m.
Right before the final whistle Jamal Bhai puts the ball in the back of their net. The tigers roar behind us. But the Tanks start protesting - apparently we'd just committed a foul and this goal wasn't valid.
Note to future corporate sports event managers. When you plan and budget everything out, include a referee that doesn't work at one of the competing companies.
The referee was our very own Fahim.
A dispute starts on the field, as it does in situations like these.
And then comes Genghis Khan himself, Raju Bhai. Into the faces of the other team. He's an annoying fat prick and we hold back because we work with him. One of their players, a large burly beast, does not work with him and does not hold back. He shoves Raju Bhai really hard, which is a sort of delightful sight for me. Raju Bhai gets up roaring like a...well, like a tiger and is yelling at the top of his lungs:
"Do you think this is game!? Huh! Bloody shit! Do you think its bloody game?"
Yes. Everyone kind of thought it was a game.
Raju Bhai lunges forward but we hold him back. The crowd starts to get fired up, too. KILL 'EM ALL KILL 'EM ALL BLOW 'EM UP BLOW 'EM UP!!!
Genghis Khan Raju breaks free and starts to rush towards his opponent who reacts swiftly. He puts all his weight forward and shoves Raju back. He lands on me and we both fall over. I get a bruise on my arm from falling. Ouch.
It's at this point that a mini-riot almost breaks out. It starts with Belal the Tiger putting his fist through their tank mascots costume, destroying it. Then escalates with Tank-Man pulling off Belal's mask and stomping on it. People start getting up from where they're sitting, chests out and noses flaring. Fingers point aggressively, and there's lots of "HOI HOI HOI OYE BETA OYE BETA CHUP KOR SHAAAAALAA!!"
I nurse my hurt arm, and in my head I hear 2 million voices chanting KILL 'EM ALL. Looking around its like everything's moving in slow motion. Raju Bhai still being held back, threatening to chop off his opponent's balls, the guy from their team yelling back with his veins and eyes popping out with unsuppressed rage. Belal and Tank-Man almost in tears as they nurse the tattered remains of their costumes.
Many of these people are supposedly the best and brightest in our country. They've studied at top institutions, some at home, some abroad. Everyday they make decisions that somehow, directly or indirectly, affect the lives of millions of people - consumers, labourers, whatever - and this is what it comes down to. Everyday, I witness grown men and women showing themselves for what they truly are - incompetent morons.
12 p.m.
Final whistle. Before the issue resolves, or blows out into full-on violence. Clearly someone just wanted it all to end. The Tigers roar WE WIN WE WIN WE WIN and the Tanks keep yelling DRAW DRAW DRAW. There's lots of booing all round. We have to sit around for the final ceremony. I'm still not certain if our last goal was allowed.
I nurse my bruise.
Our CEO speaks and he's all about how it's not about victory but about team spirit. How togetherness and drive can accomplish anything. I glance over at Belal with his broken mask, a deflated spirit if I ever saw one. Then their CEO gets up and talks a bit more about translating the same passion that we displayed today into the workplace and into the continued distribution of crappy cheap products at highly marked-up prices. That was the gist of it.
There's still half an hour to go before all the medals, trophies and self-congratulatory back-patting speeches.
But there's only one thing anyone needed to hear. And it's their CEO as he announces that the official decision has been made to allow the last goal.
The roaring is defeaning. I wonder if they can hear the chants of KILL 'EM ALL on the moon. But the blood fails to rush to my head, the adrenaline fails to pump through my veins. Everyday I make the motions in a game I have no stake in.
Yes, we're winners. But we're winners in a game of football between two corporate companies. Because we're winners we have to go in and work harder next week. And the week after. And the week after. And we're supposed to like it. The thought leaves me drained, exhausted.
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