Life with Hugo Baxter

He’s tall for his age, just the right shade of dark and oh-so-very handsome. Plus, he’s taken. So lay off. He’s mine. Not, the veritable prince charming, but my dog – Hugo Nawab Baxter.

He's been named after Victor Hugo of the Les Miserables fame. But for all the literary value he intones he might have just been named after the local perfume brand. But I must agree, he does have a taste for literature. Especially, if it is hard bound, expensive and chewable. Trust me, I’ve learnt it the hard way.

How did this enigma end up in my family’s orderly lives? Just a month back, we were your ordinary peace-loving, pest-free and very much dog-less family. But there was something amiss. The missing something was a creature we could fondle, love, pet and treat with much love and care – a dog. Ours has been a dog family as far back as I could recollect. We’ve had the typical Pomeranian, a pair of impish black Labradors, a bratty golden Labrador, a grandpa Bull-dog, a shaggy Lhasa Apso and what not.

So, in my aim to get ourselves one of those man’s best friends, I just happened to go ‘like’ an animal shelter’s picture on Facebook. (And texted the number given. Kept frantically calling up. Went to the shelter on the same day. Stalked whoever’s number was provided.) And ended up with Hugo in my lap in an auto headed back home.

All dog-lovers can identify with the sloppy symptoms of being dog-struck. The world suddenly loses all significance. Owning chappals, earphones, telephone wires, pillows, furniture and all those materialistic/chewable things mean nothing. All of a sudden, guests who don’t like dogs are as unwelcome as the fleas. Being covered in dog-hair becomes the latest style statement. Vet visits leave one with a certain distaste when the Doc pricks the poor babies. But the dog-biscuits (strictly for the dogs) make up for the forgettable shots.

After a month of Hugo-ness and crazy tug of wars involving disputes over property rights (he imagines all things within his reach to belong to him, which necessarily might not really be true), life suddenly smells better. That first time I met him, I scratched him and he even scratched me back. It was definitely love at first sniff.

Reasons Why I Dig the Night Life at Work

(The following reasons are as much a figment of my imagination as the monster under the bed is yours. Please tread with care. Yes, tread. Read, however you want.)

* I'm an insomniac. 24/7/365

* I'm not getting younger. Hence, all the more reason for me to get in touch with my lesser known dark side.

* The back pains make me thankful I (still) have a back.

* I love copy pasting the entire edition. Which, FYI, is already available online on the net. I excel in obsolete work.

* I don't get to see the sun much. No fear of getting sun burnt. Hence, you will never catch me asking the sun to 'take a chill pill' or making any other such lame remarks.

* I also save up on my sunscreen. Ways to save up money which I will need to spend on my deteriorating health.

* Lesser people at work. More A/C. Wait... They switch off the air conditioning at the night time.

* I love the Delhi night lyf. I see so much of it on my way back home at 2 in the night.

* I save up on dinner. Don't have tym to eat it, so crash dieting it is!

* I get to use the 17th floor loo because, of course, my floor's ladies loo is closed for work. Or better still use the men's loo... (Strains of "Where no woman has gone before...")

* I wanna partake of the disability quota. Why be partially blind when I can be fully optically challenged?

* I lyk the 'shorter' shifts. Means double the amount of work packed in half the allotted tym. Wheee! What fun!

* I don't wanna die peacefully in my old age... In pain and at the ripe middle age of 25 is more lyk it.

* The lifts are empty. So is the entire 17 floors building.

* Out of the 6 lifts, waiting for that one functional lift to come to your floor.

* It's so fruitfully exasperating when the software doesn't work. Gives ample scope to your imagination to form the latest of cuss words.

* The 'actual' element of surprise when you wish someone a happy birthday and then they realise you are at work. The pity, sympathy, empathy... I dig it all.

* The prude-like attitude when I get to throw around facts like I work nights. Makes me sound all cool. In a call centre like manner. Or not.

* The satiated feeling you achieve when you look back and realise you have clocked about two months of night shifts at work.

Why Rowdy Rathore is such a hilarious flop

*Someone needs to tell the director, unrelated worst-of-Tollywood scenes do not a movie make.

*Prabhu Deva can dance. Only if you lyk the cat-on-the-hot-tin-roof type dance movies. 'Superstar' Suraj is known only in Tollywood. Someone please get him a better designer/wardrobe.

*Not so comely Sonakshi Sinha. She really needs to work on those curves/tyres. Not everyone is a Vidya Balan. But then, I guess, Rowdies are known to fall for chubby waistlines.

*Pities Akshay Kumar who hates kids and still is straddled with a ready-made one to take care as his own.

*The scenes where Mumbai's rains act as Kryptonite for the fighting hero and works wonders on headaches/migraines/killer-diseases. Must be the depleted Ozone layer.

*Mishter Rathore lives in an antique shop. Complete with third-hand stuff.

*Overdose of the "Thakrele hai" act. P.S. - Fullhouse was also very much a flop.

*Ek aur set of twins? Majhra kya hai, boss?

*Aila! Haven't the villains heard of the killer Mumbai monsoons?

*The movie should have been made in 3D. That way the blood and gore would have looked even more gruesome.

*I have been wondering, how in the wide world do the Gaowalas from mid-Maharasthra speak Bihari? (Do not try the displacement/migration card with me.)

*Everytime Akshay Kumar opens his mouth he maarofies lines such as, "Are you comedying me?", "Don't angry me!" or Arnold Schwarzenegger typish "I'm back!" the full theatre erupts in whistles, claps, catcalls and what not. None for Sonakshi 'babyfat' Sinha, but.*BTW, one of the baddies (the Baldie) resembles someone from OhFish. Exact Caaapy!

*Akshay Kumar pulls off the pink flourescent pants with "Aflatoon'

*The word 'jhaangi'. First attained fame in Damini. Now repeatedly yelled in Rowdy Rathore. For translation use Google.

*Police beating baddie* (mind you, not a single drop of blood)AK - "Bund kyun kiya? Aaj Sunday hai?"

*Sonakshi Sinha's one dialogue - "Saand ke bhaesh me kukkar."

*Chinta Cheeta Cheeta. Chinta Cheeta Cheeta.*Vigorous hand-movements with the beats.

*And not to forget, Big Boss baniyans ka full-on advertisement courtesy AK.

Thou art forewarned.