What’s up with the climate? It’s cold one day and warm the other day, and sometimes during the day it gets suddenly hot. The company annual day went very well. There was a dance show called “Nach Baliye” in the television reality show mode complete with judges and a rather feisty compere. Here’s one of his jokes:
Gujaratis are so well-mannered and soft spoken. A Gujarati was travelling on a plane and a man came and occupied his seat. The Gujarati came back, saw the man, and didn’t fly into a rage immediately. He sat in the seat on the other side, asked the man his profession, his native place, and his name. “Mel Gibson” the other man said proudly. “Par ha tho Mel Gibson ni seat nathi che! Ha tho Babubhai Parekh ni seat che!” The Gujrati told him ever so nicely. “But this isn’t Mel Gibson’s seat! This is Babubhai Parekh’s seat!” How sweet!
Well jokes apart, the staff did admirably well and danced like there were no tomorrows, bathed in the pale glow of strobe lights, and laser luminescence. The chairman was so happy that he awarded all the participants of the dance around 20 k each. Oh, misery, misery when wilt thou forsake my shadows! Imagine 20 k in my pocket for just shaking a leg. Why didn’t I shake a leg and collect that amount? Sure thing, I wouldn’t mind being laughed at for that amount. I didn’t even have to win, just participate. Oh, another thing, who would dance with me, eh? I know I can shake a leg when it come to “freelance dancing” but any form of organised dancing has me “all toes.” Is that the right expression?
A colleague pair moved so gracefully and effortlessly that I was envious. I guess the wonders of this world would never cease. My mundane colleagues were transformed with some make-up and some flashy dressing into the likes of Bollywood heroes and heroines. Well, it’s not your stuff Johnny-boy, you are too old for that sort of thing.
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