Tag Archives: Punjab

Jugni Rehndi Sector Char or How NOT to Party in Chandigarh

12 Mar

The Husband and I finally figured out that we’re a far cry from ever being invited to the cool parties in Sectors 9 & 10, where you will find the oh so de rigueur Mercedes (pronounced Marsadee!) or Audi or Beamer parked ass to elbow in every drive way. So we decided to make our own partaaay tracks in the Chandigarh party circuit by becoming frequent patrons of the hottest hot spot, wait for it, S-Lounge.

Haha. And I say haha first of all because S-lounge is actually an offshoot of Swagath South Indian Restaurants of Defence Colony fame. The second reason I say haha is because when you actually get to SL you find it populated with the likes of Bliss Chadha and Bunny Bhullar. Bunny’s real name is of course Gurnimram or Nimpreet or your-guess-is-as-good-as-mine-Deep/Preet/Jeet. Bliss unfortunately, is just Bliss. As are Lovely, Great and Baby.

The third reason I say haha is because both Bunny (who is a girl in this case) and Bliss (who is not a girl in this case) are effing drop dead gorgeous! You look at these people and you feel like you’re lacking a vital chromosome.  The men and women that I have noticed in Chandigarh are by far the most prime specimens of the Indian race that I have ever seen.

The Husband’s explanation for this is that Chandigarh is the locus for all the best looking North Indian strains in Punjab to congregate and proliferate. So, in short, you have the cream of the crop, Mughal Invasion Residual Genetic Legacy Heir-Apparents, generally hanging around doing their thing.

Being a piddly little Parsi from Vidarbha, where most people look like dried up licorice sticks, I thought that the Husband in all his Punjabidom, his Peshawari Potency,  his Rawalpindi Raw Sex Appeal, his Mirpur Khas Machismo,was the cat’s pajamas. Not anymore. The Husband is but a drop in the vast ocean that is 3rd Generation Post Independence Punjabis.

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Alea Jacta Est

17 Feb

There is one signal in Chandigarh which runs for 120 seconds and plays “i’m blue abidiabada” in the background while some nice punjabi lady lilts out traffic rules. In office, if you take off your sweater someone is bound to say “tumne to summer declare kar diya hai”, not a bad idea for meteorologists who anyway don’t have a clue, just keep putting sweaters on and pulling them off, open up an umbrella, wear a banyan, and just stand there.

One the train from Delhi I was hit on by a real life rocket singh, who was nice enough to clear away my tray when he thought i was sleeping and help me with my suitcase which was filled with old pictures of the wadia family. One of the best things about living in Chandigarh is the Kalka Shatabdi to and from Delhi. If you dont actually meet anyone, you always get to overhear interesting stories. Like twin sisters who got married on the same day at the same time, or rocket singh, or a gentleman who used to design cars.

Another fun thing about Chandigarh is driving to places nearby like Amritsar to see the golden temple, and attend PTC Miss Punjabi, judged by Harbhajan Mann and Divya Dutta and treated to the musical samplings of Gippy Grewal  brawling out tracks from his hit album, The Gabru 2.  Yet another fun thing about Chandigarh is going to alliance francais and being taught by feisty little Sardarnis like Mrs. Grewal who can converse equally well in Punjabi or French (and actually uses Punjabi to explain French sometimes), looks like a sparrow but is actually more like a miniature pinscher.

I have to say that i never liked North India very much, being born and brought up in Nagpur, but you can’t hate the Punjab. The Punjab is awesome. Imagine all the anachronisms of the world being stuffed into one tiny little shoebox, and powdered with a lot of manners and money.  Kind of reminds me of my Parsi relatives living in decrepit mansions called The Mount or Daisyville or Sillville. But that’s material for another blog.

Yes I do like the Punjab, the tandoori chicken portions are enough to feed a Maharashtrian family of five, the Sardarjis are very courteous and flirtatious. Not to mention sooooo tall and good looking. One little Marathi Manoos would be lost in the forest of Surds. I mean I used to think that i lucked out marrying a man that’s 6’2 but that apparently is par for the course here in Punjab. The women also, I used to think Delhi had good looking women but you have to see the ones here. True they all look like they came out of a Yash Chopra Mohabattein factory, but still very pretty.

I’ve started to kind of like Delhi too, I think it’s become more interesting and safer for women. Plus a lot of the safety issues are just hoo-haa created by paranoid daddies who dont want their gudiya rani to pop her cherry before marriage. Three words- Hymen Replacement Surgery. Let gudiya get a life and you get one also.

But there is a lot to be said about the Punjab and I will be saying it, if I dont wither out and give up first.

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