While I’ve written about all things from potty-susu to relationships on this online space, more often than not about matters inconsequential than personal, I think it’s about time I also write about things and people who matter. The family has often received a bit of a mention every now and then, but mah homies haven’t received as big a mention as a few of them rightly deserve. Here are a few special ones, who matter more to me than a plate of Dal Makhni with sirke wale pyaaz. And, who have been hoping I would do a post on them on their respective birthdays, but I never have. Bleddy, all of them want some popularity while none of them have the slightest idea about how over-estimated this site’s stats are.
As a disclaimer, this list is not exhaustive, so please do not kill me if I haven’t mentioned you here. If I’ve ever been romantically involved with you, you’ll probably be featured in another such anthology after all the romantic interests have married, have also attended my wedding, and have accepted themselves as Bua’s to my lovely children, whenever that may be.
Here goes, in no particular order.
Rahat Chhabra
If Bollywood clichés were true, every love story begins with the protagonists hating each other. Ours began with a wild proclamation, “Aaj se Sarthak Ahuja hi mera sabse bada dushman hai”. Except, picture that being said by a six-foot tall Pillsbury Doughboy, who later fell in love with S-Man because the latter is so cool. A friendship that developed over geographical proximity and mutual love/hatred for women-kind in Rajendra Nagar has transcended all limits and led to fist fights over a game of Monopoly on New Year’s Eve, and has stood the test of evil girlfriends trying hard to break this bond of louu.
To add context, Rahat and I went to the same school, where we hardly spoke despite being in the same class for years. Our friendship developed over finding Math tuition teachers as well as women we could play our faux charm on in Rajendra Nagar. A Math teacher came, but the women didn’t (that’s what she said). However, the friendship developed deeper and stronger (that’s what she said) during our outings to various inter-school Ad-Mad competitions, where Mr. Chhabra would agree to play the role of a 250-pound Silk Smitha under Ahuja’s able direction.
He’s my bro from ano’ mo’, and the biggest threat to the women in my life. This is not just because everyone else in my life competes with the kind of attention this big boy gets, but also because all the heartbreaks I’ve ever had have been followed by a dream this gentleman has had about my break up. Why he can’t dream of his own shenanigans with the ladies, but only of my break ups whenever things in my life seem to be going well, is beyond me.
His professional competence lies in impressing uncles and aunties over the age of fifty and lending them an ear while I stand aghast by his side wondering how fun-filled our daily evening walks turn out to be. He’s the Sautan to mah Saheli’s and the guy I plan on buying a weekend house with to escape the moroseness of our married lives. Hoping that someday our children will be old and likeable enough to have this dosti turn into rishtedaari, and I can narrate to them the story of the time Mr. Chhabra looked at a Jaguar XF and exclaimed, “Yaar, Puma ki cars bhi aane lag gayi hain!”
Anirudh Bajaj
Bajaj and I bonded over making filthy podcasts in the 9th grade. Except, he would be the techie and take care of all the recording and mixing while I used to be the voice for all the filth. Such was his smartness that if we were to ever get in trouble with school for all that was said in those podcasts, this guy would walk scot-free and I would not have lived long enough to document this.
The man is as smart as he is socially awkward. Having shunned away the best of the fairer sex from Springdales and Carmel Convent at the school bus-stop, this guy went on to join one of the few premier engineering colleges of the country. And we all know how much Engineers like to shun women. Mr. Bajaj has since then dated women who have uncanny resemblances to me, except for the receding hairline and bushy eyebrows - which goes on to show how much the man loves me. The ladies in his life and yours truly, a set not necessarily mutually exclusive, has contributed immensely towards making Mr. Bajaj a more socially pleasing person to be around. It is evidenced from the fact that he now greets both Rahat’s as well as my parents whenever he meets them, and does not just barge into our rooms during his once in a blue moon visits to our respective houses.
Also, he owes his love life to me because he's gotten action in life only after the S-Man has sent love messages from his phone to a few lovelies. He will tell you that I'm adding masala to everything I say here, but who is he trying to fool; I have a reputation for being honest.
Today, Mr. Bajaj is a smart as frig man, showering in the money-money and constantly striving towards changing the world for the better. He's the next Elon Musk, if you ask me. He has made all those who know him proud on several occasions, and we’re sure the trend will only get better.
Sargam Sardana
Y'know, how there are women you're both sad and happy about being bhai-zoned by? Except, Sargam Sardana has didi-zoned me, where she not only strips me off my macho persona with her case-taking sprees but also keeps giving me a reality check about keeping my awesome in place.
We bonded over consoling each other over failed relationships that had begun at the same time. And then this wonderful lady accepted me into the college dance society despite my two left feet, making me wonder how a friend could do so much just so that I was surrounded by some of the prettiest women in college, all of whom were dancers. Reality struck when I figured I was invited only to do a drag act at every college fest and dance to Choli ke Peechhe Kya Hai, dressed in sequined harem pants and a dupatta with so much glitter, it hasn't completely gotten off my bed even after 5 years.
Sardana is a Sardarji sans joodi. Her PJ's are as lame as high is her spiritual-consciousness. She has been the bouncer to the shady dance club that has been my love life, where no lady walks in without her approval.
Possibly the only woman I’m as protective about as my own sister, I hope she reads this and realizes how long it's been since she last met me. For all marriage proposals for Sardana, kindly direct your Bio-Data directly to me, and we’ll see how that goes.
Navkaran Chadha
While I grew up on the idea that Sardar ji’s had a tough time convincing ladies to marry them, my time in college put me around such good looking macho Sardar’s that I could not help but wish that I were one myself. The biggest reason was how a turban is a more fashionable alternative to a hair transplant. But, a close second was the company of Mr. Navkaran Chadha, who is such a stud-muffin that I’ve been crushing over him since the first day I met him.
Navkaran is a junior from college, but much senior when it comes to entrepreneurial experience and being Punjabi – to the extent that he is fashionably late to his own parties, which he throws around multiple times a year in Rajouri Garden. He is the guy I’m really proud to be associated with as a friend, Chartered Accountant, financial consultant and general pair of ears for his innumerable start-up ideas.
Here is one guy who is passionate about everything he does, from leading clubs in college to discussing MBA college essays. However, his biggest passion is not keeping a secret. The world champion for being the Grandest Janaani ever, Mr. Chadha has a stomach that immediately digests Chaar Botal Vodka and Teen Plate Chicken Tikka, but cannot even wait for gossip to slide down his food-pipe before it’s all on the dance floor.
This gentleman is the real deal if you’re a young beauty pageant winner looking to get married. It’s a different thing that he wants some relationshipy experiences before he ties the knot at a Sunday wedding, where he will again be fashionably late. But seriously, line mein lago. It’s having friends like these which made me believe that my Ahuja Aunty ke Rishtey hi Rishtey idea would work wonders.
Nanditha Jagadish
There are four characters in every Tamil movie: the hero, the heroine, the comedian and the villain. Nanditha Jagadish is the perfect mix of all four, but in a Punjabi setting. She smiles with her big eyes like the gajra-wearing lady, jumps around clumsily like a Dravidian clown and then beats the shit out of all Tam-Brahm stereotypes like she's Shivaji The Boss.
Nandu and I became friends during a train journey to Ahmedabad, when we were a team against an elderly couple in a game of Antakshari. The following week at the IIM's college fest in 2011 witnessed Nandu-Boy sitting through hours of foot-stink and then finally going all: Oh God, your feet stink so much, it hurts! That was the point when it all moved from friendship to BFFFFship. So much so that just two days later, I found myself waking up in the girls' hostel with Nandice greeting me with a good morning. I was later told that I had such high fever that I had passed out and even missed out on some cat-fight that happened in that hall full of fifteen women that night. So much for spending a night at the IIM Ahmedabad Girls' Hostel.
Most people who know us readily agree that we're Jumping Jacks of the same category and I can pass off as Nandi with a wig of curly hair, nicely done upper-lip, snipped off eyebrows, a dusky shade and lots of plastic surgery.
Nandice-Jay and I are perpetually giving each other hope that love overlooks vanishing hairlines and expanding waistlines, and that things will eventually fall into place. She has been a constant since final year of undergrad and I would hope she remains so for years to come. She will travel the world, live independently, love like there's no other and then whine about life mein no excitement. How could there be, when all the excitement lies in herself!
Vikram Khanna
On the very same trip to Ahmedabad as spoken about above, Khanna and I happened to confess our feelings for the same woman to each other. And then were willing to give up on our respective love for the benefit of the other. Even more eagerly so when just hours from this 4 am confession, both of us realised how much of a bimbo-in-a-limbo the lady was. And thus started our praa'ness. Talk about Bros before Hoes.
They say lawyers are prone to behavioral side-effects of their profession, but no one talks about how crazy consultants can get. Any question asked to this McK-IIM-BCG consultant is broken down into causes and effects and pros and cons before he'll give you a convoluted answer that sounds easy, but isn't because the answer always leads to you-have-the-free-will-to-choose-what-you-want-and-define-your-life-experiences.
The man is so sorted in life that he gives the best relationship advice without having been in one. The one he was once in doesn't count. This gentleman is so sorted in life that he's the one who carries shagun ke lifaafe for everyone going for a wedding. With a glitter pen to put your autograph on the lifaafa with!
He anonymously comments on my blog posts, constantly urging me to write about deeper issues than the ones addressed here. Hoping he will find this post personal enough for him to see I'm trying to break away from my mould, when I clearly am not.
Vinit Aggarwal
Here’s an Aggarwal who rightly spells his surname with a double-G and not in a fancy ass way as “Agarwal” or “Agrawal”. This not just shows his affinity towards mithai, as is evident from his paunch, but also that he is a man of no bullshit.
Vinit and I have been friends since 2012, and almost everyone who has seen us together has exclaimed that we look like brothers, and over forty years of age. He takes this comment to be a compliment, disregarding the addendum to the part about being my doppelganger. We met at a random seminar, where we bonded over not having anyone else to speak with. It led to a chance meeting a couple of months later, and we decided to work on a little project called Career in Commerce.
Several unexecuted business ideas older, we’re now recreation partners. He’s the person I take rounds of Lodhi Garden with every Sunday morning while simultaneously narrating stories of “Ex”-Mas Past in a made up girl voice – often earning stares from the other morning walkers. Our discussion topics include: how to differentiate between desi ghee and butter; the kind of bahu he would want for his parents; why the VC funded, loss making start-up fad will someday burst; and desi-nuskhe to arrest hair fall.
A Financial Research Analyst and a connoisseur of all things laden with desi ghee, he’s the perfect catch in the high-yielding baniya marriage market, and I would hope he will love his wife as much as he loves his Honda City.
*Slowly hating the fact that all my friends fit the bill of the perfect marriage bakra’s, and it’s sad how everyone is marriageable age already*
I still remember the day I signed up for a post CA course on International Taxation. Little did I know that I would walk into a room full of a hundred and twenty Chartered Accountants with an average age of fifty. As the youngest in the group, my eyes scanned the refreshment area for a person of the same generation, and I noticed an impeccably dressed man in a grey-beige suit munching on a leafy-salad while the remaining CA’s gobbled down plate bhar samose with imli ki chutney. One of those ignorable samosa lovers was this fella’ Ankur Ahuja.
What started as an association with a selfish intention of Ankur wanting to be friends with me only so that he could have access to my study notes, went on to Karma slapping this boy on the face because neither did I ever get down to making any notes, but I also broke my personal best score at Candy Crush Saga while he tried to concentrate in class by my side. Talk about a deceptive string of multiple educational qualifications. Muhuhahaha. *cough* Cocky! *cough*
The friendship grew deeper over enjoying the weekly splendid buffet lunch at the Country Inn and trying to find female company that we could set this boy up with. Out of all those who wanted to marry him, Sarthak Ahuja topped the list. And then there were none.
As some beautiful women have come and gone in this naughty boy’s life, none have gotten the kind of attention I do from this macho man. He’s my darling with six pack abs and possibly the closest CA friend I hold. We’ve lunched together at fancy places and then hogged on Lajpat Nagar Chinese on his rickety, half-broken bed. He’s the go to guy if you want muft-philosophy in life, and a friend you’d never want to lose.
