Skip to main content

The intimidation

Now this is getting out of hand. Do people really feel intimidated by the thought of me blogging about them? Here's an exchange via email. The extracts are verbatim and I'm leaving out the sickly '[sic]':

Friend:
HI U WANTED TO SEE MY PHOTO I AM SENDING MY PHOTO WITH MY WIFE
Me:
Man, could I put up the photos on my blog? I wont be upset if u say NO!
Friend:
SURE
BUT U WRITE SOMETHING WHICH WILL NOT HURT ME

Me:
When did I write something that hurt you?
Friend:
IT IS UR HABBIT OF WRITING SARCASTIC THINGS
Me:
Really? So people are actually scared of my writing!
Friend:
YES AND U SHOULD WRITE IN NORMAL ENGLISH I AM NOT HAVING ANY DICTIONERY IN MY OFFICE

Comments

Anonymous said…
Shail (from Sec B) was at my place for a few days an he was telling me that they all were very cross with you when you had written your views about the accident that Manna and Seth had met with.

And as you are an epitome of incorrigibility, I know pretty well you will not budge an inch even if a mahout were to sit on your head and goad you for the rest of your life.

Atleast, react to this comment a bit mindfully. You never know, someone form his group might be reading this blog and may come barging at your doorstep.
Deepanjan said…
I'm exceptionally tolerant. The problem lies in people's level of endurance not being commensurate to mine (I don't expect it either)...and being mindful and outrightly antagonistic when they perceive anything even mildly challenging.

You've heard one version of the story and extrapolating it into the whole incident. There could be serious abberations in such an assumption.

I seldom retaliate. And believe it or not, I've not been as vociferous in my blog as I would have like to be lest the heckles of many be raised!

I'll remain muted, just as I've been for so long.

Popular posts from this blog

The year that was

I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still ...

The sting operation

There was a guy in school named Subroto Giri, who, we all agreed, was the world's most accident prone person. All the world's ill luck would strike him first before affecting others. We sympathized with him, though we couldn't help occasionally taking a dig at the poor guy. I guess Murphy's law of averages has finally caught up with me. It's now my turn to be the butt of the jokes of my acquaintances. I went to HDFC Bank to sort 2 issues. One was sorted, the other had to wait. It was during my trudge back to my office that I made the mistake of putting my left hand into a hip pocket. Unknown to me, a bee had conveniently lodged itself there. No sooner had I made the intrusion than the bee stung me! My thumb, to be more precise. It felt like my thumb had been amputated. I did the obvious and withdrew my hand with a jerk, not knowing what had hit me. Getting a semblance of what had just happened, I realized to my consternation that the sucker could still be 'in...