Jaane jaan, dhoondta phir raha .
You guessed it. I was moving from tree to tree, searching for it, singing the beautiful number from Jawaani Deewani. The only thing that was missing was a Randhir Kapoor triple chin.
Now, let me clarify. Contrary to my usual propensity, I was not searching for a good-looking female. And no, I wasn't searching for a bad-looking one. And before you start having doubts about me, let me clarify that I am not Karan Johar. I am Raj. Raj Lalwani aka Harry Potter aka Nikamma, who was desperately searching for a topic to write a review on. Review # 75.
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Sadhu Agashe samaaj ka kachra saaf karta hai, main MS ka kachra . hoon. My review count: Ab tak 56 nahin, Ab Tak 75.
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I am not the biggest star of MS, which is why I do not borrow or steal reviews. Since I look too good to beg(and pigs fly as well, for that matter), I decided to shop for a review.
I entered Shoppers' Stop and stood still at the entrance. After all, shoppers were supposed to stop here! But then, I remembered the gravity of my search and strode in, promising myself that would write an apology letter to the Shoppers' Stop management for not stopping .
The first thing that caught my attention were the life-size advertisements. So, while I saw Katrina Kaif's blowup(er, no pun intended) displaying the Himalayas, Gurdeep Kohli's amazingly cute smile literally made me fall down the stairs. As I rubbed my sore cranium, sitting on the last step, I remembered my mission again. I even removed my shirt and start singing, 'Koi humse better review nahin likh le, chale chalo, chale chalo.' I then decided to ask the various salesmen for a nice review. Their variation in their personalities and attitude was striking.
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'Squeeze, er, excuse me, I would love to see you again, which is why I want a re view.'
The first category includes the gorgeous bimbettes who look right out of FTV, whether it's their walk, put-on accent, laughs that make Aishwarya Rai's shaking laughter seem like a mere tremor and clothes, er, no, no clothes .
Their IQ level may be negative as they take an hour to decide how much a mobil refill worth 525 bucks costs! Yet, their beauty is enough for you to forget about your own IQ. This variety is highly dangerous as these hypnotizing fairies force you to buy anything by merely flashing their thirty-two pearls.
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And then, we have the encyclopedias. Make a casual enquiry about the product and they will rattle off the product's history, geography, economics and civics.
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Then, we have the Hyperbole. No, I am not talking about curvaceous girls. That is hyperbola. Hyperbole's specimens specialize in telling you about the astounding qualities of a worthless product.Such are their amazing convincing powers that they may even force you to buy a VCD of a certain film about how a parrot fell in love with an animated dog, with two Prems and a bicycle, fitted in the middle. Na neye naa naa no!
Go to buy a cricket bat and they claim that Tendliya used it when he was young. Buy hair oil and the salesman claims that it would turn Vinod Kambli's plate into Jason Gillespie's. Buy a pen and they claim that the pen will continue to write until Alok Nath stops smiling, which is probably merely 101973920 years away!
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The fourth category's specimens look down upon you as if you are Tusshar Kapoor. Instead of describing their shop's products, they prefer pointing out the innumerable zits on your visage and how your seemingly posh attire is from Chor Bazaar. It's no wonder that the audio systems in such shops usually play the song'I'm the best'!
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The fifth variety is polite. And so is Glen Mcgrath, for that matter. They spew abuses even if you merely touch the product.'Haath nahin lagaane ka' is their constant motto and if you do not buy an item within five minutes, they tell you to get lost.
The other day, while I was at Planet M, one salesman told me to get lost when I asked him if I could buy Britney Spears' album only for the inlay photographs and not take the cassette. I retorted that I couldn't get lost as Planet M was too familiar to me .
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Then, there is the famous'despo'. Persuasion takes a new meaning as these fellows even force combs into Alok Nath's hands! If you enter a footwear shop, these fellows cling on to your feet and force you to wear the kind of chappals Govinda and Harish(don't remember her?!) wore in Coolie No. 1 ( translated as'It's cool to urinate')
I wonder how these desperate salesmen behave in lingerie shops .
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Wash your hands as there is the'chapparganathi' kind, too.
Now, don't ask me where I got that word from. The word'chapparganathi', which means'filthy' was first used by my history teacher in school, when she was talking about a certain fellow called George W Bush .
Has anybody heard the Oasis' song'Fin' by the BUSHes'?
But these kind of salesmen are usually busy. Rather, their fingers are busy. Busy exploring their nostrils. The fingers compete with each other as to which one can dig further, and when the nose is completely explored, the fingers move on to other unmentionable regions.
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And finally, I came across this variety of salespersons. The typical example of this category goes by the name of'nikamma', which for the record, does not refer to Nick Carter's mother(amma).
He writes so amazingly that the readers fall off their chairs. Does that mean that he writes brilliantly? No. It just means that the furniture has rotted, time to buy new chairs. Or perhaps, the readers fall off in frustration: frustration on reading 75 review, dripping with nikammaitis, whatever the term means.
So, you still reading and even plan to leave a comment?! I love you guys. Thank you for bearing. Now, what on earth are you waiting for?! Ab Tak 75 reviews . I need at least 75 comments!
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Ae khuda haafiz . shukriya, meherbaani .
(Don't throw parties, Harry does not plan to leave. Just singing a song from Yuva .)
