tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42840457354107794422024-02-06T22:29:47.645-08:00DOODLES OF A DEMENTED DASH/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-46590601641166523832013-04-04T03:22:00.002-07:002013-04-04T03:24:03.527-07:00Template Poems #2: For that long awaited meet-up <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I happened to see a vessel,<br />
far out in the sea;<br />
it queerly caught my attention,<br />
for reasons I couldn't decree.<br />
Its presence though distanced,<br />
like a spirit it roamed free…<br />
finally reached ashore one day;<br />
then I heard a cry "Yippee!"<br />
for when I saw its name,<br />
it all made sense to me.<br />
<br />
"Friendship".</div>
/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-78794472757221762542013-03-06T12:03:00.002-08:002013-03-06T12:04:52.231-08:00Template Poems #1: Long and pretty locks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I once saw a girl<br />
with really long hair;<br />
Till her knees it stretched<br />
No kidding I swear!<br />
<br />
Like banks of rivers,<br />
Like stems of vine,<br />
Like skilled work of weavers,<br />
Her pony tail did intertwine.<br />
<br />
When she took a stride<br />
like a wave did it bounce...<br />
her mane flaunted pride,<br />
and others gaped in trance.</div>
/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-79458928319312306632013-02-18T14:48:00.000-08:002013-02-18T14:49:57.964-08:00The Hypocrite<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
He held his pipe,<br />
<div>
For the usual smoke.</div>
<div>
Out came no puff,</div>
<div>
He gave a long sulk.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The shank was blocked-</div>
<div>
out came the filter;</div>
<div>
with a stick he probed,</div>
<div>
the mass causing halter.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The bowl was filled,</div>
<div>
with lots of black goo.</div>
<div>
With disgust he cringed;</div>
<div>
(And) disposed it without ado.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A stench it possessed,</div>
<div>
that ceased leaving the room.</div>
<div>
So nauseating it felt</div>
<div>
he plunged into gloom.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"'Dis what I smoke?"</div>
<div>
Popped his angel and demon;</div>
<div>
"I warned you so!!!"<br />
The angel gave a sermon.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He nodded obedient, and</div>
<div>
a promise was to constitute.</div>
<div>
"I will never smoke!</div>
<div>
And others will follow suit!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He polished the pipe,</div>
<div>
for one last while.</div>
<div>
On looked the demon,</div>
<div>
not causing any rile.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"I deserve one puff,</div>
<div>
for old times' sake."</div>
<div>
The angel scowled in vain,</div>
<div>
unable to prevent his take.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He put the tobacco,</div>
<div>
and lit it slowly;</div>
<div>
Took one long drag,</div>
<div>
that hit him instantly.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He reclined in bliss,</div>
<div>
the angel broke his halo;</div>
<div>
the demon gave a smirk</div>
<div>
who made an exit, mellow.</div>
</div>
/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-50376714137163955502012-04-30T03:40:00.002-07:002012-04-30T03:42:38.811-07:00Mulla<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
What it means is an Islamic cleric. It was also the name of
a feared childhood friend. Trust me, for what he was; even clerics would have
been afraid of him.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I saw him for the first time in the 6<sup>th</sup> grade. He
was already a legend, and he was repeating his term for a second time with us.
Rumours about his evil had done their countless rounds, even before he made his
first appearance in class. They were nerve-tingling scary; he had slapped an
Indian kid for not showing him the answers in an exam – some claimed the kid’s
left cheek turned blue. Stories like that helped in concocting a fierce image,
perhaps a fiercer image than he actually was – a burly 6 foot 2 inch dark
monster bearing flaming eyes, fire-breathing nostrils, and walking with footsteps that liberated a gut-wrenching
noise. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Except that when we saw him, he was exactly what we had
envisioned. Minus the fire from the nostrils, of course. Our disbelief caused
his movement to appear in slow-motion, accompanied by some crappy death-metal
music playing in the back of my head. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was from a troubled family, and this reflected in his
attitude and in his studies. Our school tried numerous methods to mend him; extra
attention from teachers, photocopies of their notes, appointing him as a house
prefect (in the hope that a little responsibility would change him for the
better), etc. But he was as stubborn as a dog’s curly tail could be, and his character
improvement plot made little or no progress. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Until one day my class teacher came up with an ingenious
plan – “to make Mulla sit with the topper of the class, so that he may watch
and learn from his traits, which will be of utmost benefit to him.” Okay, it
may seem like I’m gloating here, but being the one bestowed with this coveted
opportunity wasn’t exactly the reward I was looking for. How did I feel when I
first heard it? Similar to what Frodo Baggins would have felt if Gandalf asked him
to go for a picnic with the Witch-king of Angmar.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was infuriated at leaving my friends to sit with this illiterate
and immoral creature. The very thought of sharing my notes with him disgusted
me. I felt he just wasn’t worth all the effort - a person not up to the
standards of begetting my friendship.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
First few days went without any incident. I would stare
longingly at my previous place, and my neighbours having a good time. Then
there was the occasional bullying – he would simply push my chair forward in
order to make himself space to move out (C’mon, he was 4 years older and had
the strength of a horse – If I was of his size I would have moved the chair
myself). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would be blamed for his disappearances between classes; so
at this one time I showed the futile courage of not budging when he tried to
escape. When you know you are going to get hit, your eyes attain a supreme ability
to multi-function. I was looking at his eyes, yet I could notice the
micro-movements of both his hands. Surprisingly he grinned – this was the
ice-breaker. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We got along pretty quickly after that. People were now
cautious with me –I had the dubious privilege of anyone getting beaten up if
they messed with me. I too thought the same, until one day I was given a task
to prevent students from buying from the old canteen (as their tender had
gotten over). There was this Arab dude, similar in stature to Mulla, who was a
regular buyer. One day I asked Mulla to have my back when I confronted him. I
blocked that dude from reaching out to his food. “No it’s against the rules,
you can’t have from here.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
FWWATISH!!! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Yes, I it was this very filmy sound. I remember clearly ‘cos
it echoed a good number of times in my ears after the impact)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was slapped to the ground. You know how cartoons depict
birds hovering around a head after a bad bump? Well the experience was almost
similar; except in reality it were the floaters in my eyes that were twirling. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I shook my head and opened my eyes hoping to see Mulla have already
beaten down that hooligan to a measly pulp. Sadly I was mistaken…they were chuckling
together! I got enraged, unmindful of the slap I had just received and the
harder ones that could follow, I stood up to Mulla and yelled,” You should
learn to stick to your word, Mulla! I thought you had my back!” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To which he replied,” Yes if you hurt, I call nurse.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You could have told me that before I stopped him na?!!” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We fight own battle, we win, we feel like strong man…” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I didn’t have a reply; on the contrary I mellowed down (like
I had a choice!) and had a good laugh with both of them. It wasn’t only my
sensory nerves, but also my ego that had taken a resound beating. Looking back
at those six months which were meant to improve him, it had in fact improved me
to an elevated level of maturity. Everyone now was an equal to me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Teaching him was a jolly good exercise. Once he had gotten
on my nerves for some reason and kept on provoking me. He asked, “How you study
like this? How you remember all these big-big answers?”, to which I retorted
this nonsense, “Stare at the book for 5 minutes and then look up.” The entire
class, including the teacher, heard this dialogue, and watched him in silence
as he did exactly what I told. He looked up and exclaimed “Oh I see the
answers! There on the ceiling! Now I know your secret, hah!” This got everyone
into splits.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He passed that year, but unfortunately he dropped out of 7<sup>th</sup>
grade, and he was never heard of since. I sincerely hope he’s doing well
out there somewhere (not as a henchman or a drug-lord!), ‘cos he was the one that
led me to believe that whatever element, good or bad (however you perceive it),
if experienced in the right way, invariably lends us a lesson to be learnt.</div>
</div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-56380898812229306082012-04-13T03:04:00.001-07:002012-04-13T03:11:23.957-07:00Unearthing (another) meaning of Apocalypse<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
(This is probably the most meaningless post I’ve ever
written, and I mean it. ‘Cos I’m just trying to do a Harold Camping here,
making nonsense out of well… nonsense. I know the frenzy he created has fizzled
out, but we should remember him for convincing people to do some literally
crazy sh*t. Who else today can make people waste their life savings in the name
of a ridiculously hypothetical disaster? Well if people are so jobless, they
might as well spread the truth through the ‘conspiracy’ I’m bound to create.)<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Disclaimer: I’m tired of doing this again and again, but if
I don’t, them Christians might actually start their own version of <i>Fatwa</i>…perhaps calling it the <i>Holy Assail</i>. I wish I could do a Dan
Brown, you know, do an extensive research and write an actual book on my
findings someday. But just so it becomes a national bestseller, I don’t want it
to be adopted by Bollywood….Hic! I think I did so much of soul-sucking that I
actually choked myself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
[Inspired by Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal on Conspiracy
theorist, DO CHECK THIS OUT! <a href="http://www.smbc-comics.com/index.php?db=comics&id=2240#comic" target="_blank">http://www.smbc-comics.com/index.php?db=comics&id=2240#comic</a>]</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well…here goes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are advices or statements that need to come with
exceptions. (<a href="http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/2Exa5M/www.cracked.com/blog/the-6-most-quoted-pieces-advice-that-are-usually-wrong/" target="_blank">http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/2Exa5M/www.cracked.com/blog/the-6-most-quoted-pieces-advice-that-are-usually-wrong/</a>)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For example, never lie.<br />
Exception? When you say “I do” as the groom.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here’s another one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Always stand up for yourself. Never back down, or take sh*t
from others. If they screw with you, show them the finger. <br />
Exception? In an encounter with a hijra.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was travelling in an auto(rickshaw) watching a random audition
of Roadies. They were bullying this guy for being a coward. I got that temporary
feeling of buffing up your chest and saying to yourself,” No one’s eva gonna f*ck
with me. Eva!” till when the auto halted all of a sudden. It was a long traffic
jam. I put my mobile back into the bag and dozed for a while. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Snap! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was woken by a slap on my thigh by a couple of hijras. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The usual “Give 10 rupees!” followed. Very, very and very unfortunately
I only had a 100 with me. I asked the auto-driver to donate now and that I
would include that in the payment later. To which he said “No change”
(Really??? The whole <i>I’m-not-so-
cheap-to-have-change-although-I-drive-an-auto</i> act? In these dire moments of
distress?) </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They continued harassing. I was getting angry and nervy at
the same time, and that too not in a metastable state. I was behaving like
Vikram in the climax of ‘Anniyan’, yelling at them to go away while also
pleading for mercy when they made their ‘advancements’. The signal changed
colour, and the auto chugged into motion. I heaved a huge sigh of relief. But during
that process, one of the hijras’ heads received a slight bump. He/she yelled
something out of rage at the driver, to which he too got really furious (Notice
how usage of pronouns become easier when different, err mixed genders are
involved). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He chose to retaliate, and stopped the auto near the
pavement; a heated conversation in Kannada commenced. I could make out “You
deserved this for harassing my valuable passenger!” Then the worst that one
could ever imagine, happened. No, I take back what I just said; NO ONE’s insane
enough to imagine that. Not ready to lose, the hijra proceeded to his/her
‘Fatality’ move (Mortal Kombat fans, anyone?). I moved my head away and asked
the driver to leave the whole damn thing. To which the auto driver too started
unzipping! I shut my eyes and covered myself with my bag. Ever had those
moments when you wanted to prevent your mind from forming horrifying mental
images but you became tragically late in doing so? This was one of them. It was
also one of those rare moments in life when you are better off checking out
Medusa and turning into a statue. It was like Judgment Day; I was ready to come
clean and ask God for forgiveness from all the sins I’ve done, anything to save
myself from the ongoing atrocity.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wait a minute!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were striking inferences to be made from the whole
situation. For once, I finally realized why the Book of apocalypse itself was called ‘Revelations’.
Camping hated all people who weren’t straight, as he felt they were morally
responsible for Judgment Day. The world isn’t new to nude LGBT (<span style="color: white;">lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender</span><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">) parades. The
day when such a worldwide parade happens, involving every non-straight gender
alive… that would be the true Apocalypse - (insert Mallu accent) the real hell!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Word of advice - Don’t form mental images of the incident.<br />
<br />
Oh yea, I did leave unscathed. Loud honking forced the driver to come back to
his auto. This would be the one and only time when I appreciated Bangalore
traffic; well God does take different forms, doesn’t He?</div>
</div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-56919430697542483172012-04-13T00:15:00.001-07:002012-04-13T00:39:03.886-07:00Here's an idea...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8O7LBGNTw0r_KD5grTIZUmWyaRyDo6MkwcCL8QjNHO7oXUaLcToDQTfUDTIiaARlfiIyZnWSOtoyF2M76m5tg-TMRVjLz-2G4PUEsPD-Ta9A9P6JQmA_i2DLj3XM9oWdeJLapdEfmI02q/s1600/Untitled-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8O7LBGNTw0r_KD5grTIZUmWyaRyDo6MkwcCL8QjNHO7oXUaLcToDQTfUDTIiaARlfiIyZnWSOtoyF2M76m5tg-TMRVjLz-2G4PUEsPD-Ta9A9P6JQmA_i2DLj3XM9oWdeJLapdEfmI02q/s640/Untitled-4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-45900137115266582222011-12-25T06:58:00.000-08:002011-12-26T16:05:12.713-08:00Bahrain and 2012<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Didn’t it feel so good to be back? Duh!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It felt so darn good
to be back that I stepped outside my new place at Budaiya, stretch out my arms,
look up in the sky and say “It feels so good!” Bahrain was moved, and it
answered my display of immense ecstasy with a couple of tear gas shells. I
guess Bahrain wanted me to cry along. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, mom had other plans. She yelled at me to come back and
help her tape the edges of windows and doors. I gasped at the amount of masking
tape we had in stock, much like how they stack up toilet rolls in hotels. I
looked out and saw kids and adults rushing to their homes; shouts of
“INCOMING!” (Call of Duty, Unreal tournament, and the likes) flashed across my
mind.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In case you are rejoicing with the fact that I’m living
dangerously and my days are numbered, nyaa…I stay in a secure compound with a
huge fencing and two guards. But being a demonstration-prone area, tear gas shells
are as regular as the movies on Set Max. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I looked at the thick wads of smoke entering the compound walls.
A year ago the same wad of smoke would have had me screaming, “Yea baebay!
Hookah round the corner!” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KFI1KkYutrXKASE-slLO1tKrX_TxqsboheNLQ_76yk1icET6meZsfg2VvQcZczebuQoQ2qWwi3LIid8rMRffLW8FQuKh7dq2hAwUhc60lNZk95x_c3-AgCEZULPTKtOw-atRRzI9ZFAd/s1600/IMG_8080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KFI1KkYutrXKASE-slLO1tKrX_TxqsboheNLQ_76yk1icET6meZsfg2VvQcZczebuQoQ2qWwi3LIid8rMRffLW8FQuKh7dq2hAwUhc60lNZk95x_c3-AgCEZULPTKtOw-atRRzI9ZFAd/s400/IMG_8080.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
This is an entirely new experience in my surrogate
motherland. Gone are those days when the only thing you had to fear while
venturing out was stumbling across Mr. Vinod* Sir. And those crazy Saudis
driving drunk through the streets on the weekends. (*FYI He’s a person who
plays with your sense of touch.) Being in Bahrain now is like sitting in a boat
with no oars. Already there’s nothing to do here…just plain nostalgia. Even
that’s off boundary now.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hey but don’t mistake Bahrain to be in as much chaos as in
that Linkin Park’s <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YLHpvjrFpe0">From the Inside</a> video. Just that I happen to stay right in
the middle of where they love to riot. My folks moved here right in the nick of
time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But no worries, I’m having my sort of weird fun anyways.
Yesterday I did my age-old ritual of sneaking out two pegs of dad’s scotch (Nine
years, I kid you not!). As soon as I downed it, there was a Boom! sound
and the vapours of tear gas started filling up my bedroom. Now you might have
heard that Kathakali dancers can laugh and cry at the same time. Trust me, that
sh*t ain’t easy. This could be the hard yet short-cut technique of learning it
though.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m slightly perturbed by the fact that this is a memory of
Bahrain I’ll have to etch in my mind, but hey, at least the tear gas helped me
get back at writing (I don’t even want to think what would jump-start the next
writing spree, tomahawk?!) ‘Cos I’m an
optimist, I always see the glass half-full, especially when it’s filled with
scotch. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So here’s wishing you all a Merry Xmas and a Happy New Year!
(Sincerely hoping that the Boom! I hear on New Year’s is of fireworks :P)</div>
</div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-91043951285674572222011-09-16T01:58:00.000-07:002012-04-13T00:39:43.288-07:00Bah...needed an update!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigopRYagKNpz_bQYO7_9xpBa5IrXtcMXWnppbEfcB9FYOp23MKjgMnQf6yotM8Glj_SUMB3-tDZzkl07Bl7cNsu0HL7mtB04XdWBCnrFG_rLZKTdRmerNu3F17WP6wZ6711T1vmeVxr0ZY/s1600/Untitled-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigopRYagKNpz_bQYO7_9xpBa5IrXtcMXWnppbEfcB9FYOp23MKjgMnQf6yotM8Glj_SUMB3-tDZzkl07Bl7cNsu0HL7mtB04XdWBCnrFG_rLZKTdRmerNu3F17WP6wZ6711T1vmeVxr0ZY/s400/Untitled-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-28573545070729592762011-06-27T07:08:00.000-07:002012-04-13T00:40:55.269-07:00Another bus story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">(P.S.: The following note may contain explicit comments that are used in day-to-day life. Uncorrupted minds, please don't report this!)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I was travelling once in a double-decker bus in China. It was a long ride; I fished out a novel to kill time. A few stops later, four kids rushed above and took seats behind me. I smiled at them and they snickered back.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“<em>Ni Hao</em>” I meowed to them <em>(That’s hello in Chinese).</em></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><em></em>“Hello” they replied back. <em>First setback to the first impression</em>.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>They</strong>: “You from <em>Indu</em>?”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Me:</strong> “Yea, I am <em>Indu</em>. You in school?”<em> (Indu is what they call Indians there)</em><strong></strong></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>They</strong>: “Ya, ya…”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Me</strong>: “Which class?”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Silence.<strong></strong></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Me</strong>: “Level? Standard?”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Still no answer.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The conductor approached them. They told her the destination and she said the price; that being less I decided to pay for them, just for kicks (please don’t make conclusions!). They were all the more cheerful; one kid sat on my lap and asked “Why you black?”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><em>Aah you racist sonuvabitch!</em> “Why you no eyes?”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><em>Not good enough, but if I said anything else they wouldn’t understand.</em> They continued chuckling.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Why you fat?”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><em>Shux, two of my shortcomings and they had to catch upon that</em>. “You know kung-fu?”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><em>“Meiyo, meiyo!”</em> <em>(No, no!)</em></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“I know <em>Kalari. </em>I kill you with my two fingers!” To which they roared laughing. Money and respect, both gone. I had to get back at ‘em by all means.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“OK, I <em>meiyo</em> Chinese. You teach me Chinese numbers.”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“1 is ee, 2 is ueh, 3 is aa…” <em>Sounds like when I gag myself during tongue-cleaning.</em></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Ok ok you want to learn <em>Indu</em>?”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Ya, ya…”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“To say hello…say <em>maa chudha.</em>”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“MAA CHOODA!!!” All of them resounded in unison. Their noise attracted other Chinese, who now took a keen interest in learning my <em>Indu </em>language. These kids spread my teachings within minutes; imagine around 10 - 12 people in the backseats yelling out how to say hello! <em>Evil or not, this is fun!</em> I wanted more of it.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“You like <em>Indu</em> girls?”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Ya, ya…”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Tell me how to say <em>you are beautiful</em> in Chinese.”</span></div>
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<em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Ni hen mei li!” (Guys, especially Bangaloreans, I’m doing you a great favour, so next time, when you hit on one of those Chinkis in Forum Mall, thank me!)</span></em></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><em></em>“OK, when you see <em>Indu</em> girl, to tell her <em>I like you because you are very beautiful,</em> you should say <em>Mai</em>(they repeated)<em>…tumhaare….bachche…ka…baap…banne…waala…hoon!” </em>(courtesy Satish)<em></em></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">They, alongwith a few others, practised for a while. Amidst giggles, I was speculating the fact that I was only adding fuel to trigger the otherwise inevitable Indo-Chinese war! When they repeated<em>“baeche ka baep”</em> I couldn’t control and burst out laughing. They understood it was all a prank and pounced on me, taking my book and wallet in the process. They fiddled around with it for a while; I didn’t mind ‘cos the wallet was empty.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The bus halted at their stop. They gave me back my belongings and said “Xhi Xhi <em>(Thank you)</em>, babye…” I too bid goodbye and checked my wallet for my PAN card and driving license. Surprisingly, there was money in it. I had a rush of thoughts. I became confused; was it civility for them not to accept money from others, or was it because they took pity thinking I was actually penniless? Did my ‘good’ deed get rewarded; <em>hmmm...it’s only a reward if they had put extra money…lemme check, nopes, exact as the bus fare!</em></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNRD-YwoEqbLnNwyGUKgdVXJzHp4oW3Zwr7APF9sphD6CAB-Zxc_XLPe4tYf7m33TnO3wJG6xBSKg2S8ldA1YmX31P_-XnGtkuX7jEgALJ8ziihk0aqCVWfKPoWNOFwQZ-BxTojzLW2r34/s1600/162793_10150352508830431_558100430_16321134_4548072_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNRD-YwoEqbLnNwyGUKgdVXJzHp4oW3Zwr7APF9sphD6CAB-Zxc_XLPe4tYf7m33TnO3wJG6xBSKg2S8ldA1YmX31P_-XnGtkuX7jEgALJ8ziihk0aqCVWfKPoWNOFwQZ-BxTojzLW2r34/s320/162793_10150352508830431_558100430_16321134_4548072_n.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">The protagonists!</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">I didn’t arrive at any conclusion, so I plugged my earphones and coincidentally…I was listening to Metallica’s <em>‘The Unnamed Feeling’</em>. </span></span><br />
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</div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-4155529255126891762011-05-27T05:15:00.001-07:002012-04-13T00:44:18.929-07:00When my eyes bled red<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This was prompted by my epic 30-hour long workathon. In office terms, workathon (<span style="font-family: Webdings;">¯</span> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%;">wûrk-úr-thöng</span></b>) relates to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">a lesson in</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“How to stay up seamlessly doing stuff you would never give a crap about”.</i><br />
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Apart from drinking truckloads of coffee/Red Bull, one way is by playing some game like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">YooNinja</i> on your Android or IPhone <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(You recently bought a costly Nokia? Do you use feathers for writing?) </i>This game involves a fast ninja running through obstacles with two blades behind that kill him if he stops at any moment. It basically reminds me of myself on the treadmill with the trainer behind – but yea, good focus and sharp reflexes pump energy into your eye muscles.</div>
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Another is by taking power naps.</div>
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Three power-naps of 15 minutes spiked my state of consciousness. That experience is trippy-like. The moment you shut your weary eyes (which thank your brain for doing so), the dreams switch on like a movie resuming after a pause button. As you haven’t exactly arrived at slumber, power-nap-dreams seem more surreal, and the memory spookily remains after you wake up. Moreover, these are the best times to verify the concepts of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Inception</i>.</div>
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During one of my trysts with phantasmagoria, the past haunted me. It was a lecture by my Math teacher in Bahrain, Dr. Paul Williams Ambrose - on how he managed time between teaching at school and tuitions, tuition-book corrections, school-book corrections, coordinator-work, church and playing drums in Pakistan Club (Yea, they never found a Pakistani drummer) – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Such naps are applicable to two situations; one of course when you can’t afford to sleep and two, at a time when you just want to doze for a bit and restart afresh, like in the afternoons.”</i> </div>
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He was used to taking 5-minute power-naps; considering the energy he had, it was equivalent to taking steroids recommended by Marion Jones. As kids, most of us took it as some sort of old Tamil-folk wizardry, given his white hair and beard, (no, don’t picture Gandalf, more like Narendra Modi) and the poor placard outside his flat having to bear the sheer weight of all his 11 inscribed degrees, let alone his name of 21 letters.<br />
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I had a Chinese dude for assisting me – he was in charge of helping me out. When my eye-shutters got heavy, I looked at his face. I wanted to discern whether he was sleeping or not – so that in the meantime I could rest my sorry eyes and share the blame in case anything went wrong – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">but in vain</i>. It was the one moment I seriously hated their race whose blinking made no sense since their eye-lids were just millimeters apart. I had a throbbing urge to blurt out <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wang-ba-dan </i>(a**hole) or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tu-ne-lo-mo </i>(mofo) just to test his drowsiness – but the underlying fear in every non-Chinese when they see a Chinese arose in me – that inevitable moment when he would jump, make that “Huaaa!” shriek and do some supersonic karate-chops on me. I also could have instilled fear through my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Kalaripayutu</i> heritage, but I am too physically inept to generate any sort of uneasiness, though there is a ‘slight’ chance I might have also forgotten to inherit it.</div>
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And it was a small issue. We could just simply change some scripts, rename the file and paste it back. But the Chinese dude was relentless – for the dear of his life he wouldn’t let me do it without the permission of higher Chinese authorities. I chuckled for a while, “You are joking right?”<br />
“Naw…v needo perrrrrmishun!”<br />
“For this baby stuff, c’mon why notify them the problem?”<br />
“Naw perrrrmishun, naw do anything!”<br />
“Are you crazy? It’s 5 in the morning, our deadline is 6 and all you care about is to get permission from Mainland China?”<br />
“Yes yes!”<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(Raising my hands in the air)</i>”AAAARGHHH!”<br />
“Waat haapen?”<br />
“OH…THIS??? THIS IS HOW WE YAWN IN INDIA!!!”<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Vg3ZdJ3eWhujqJ_ciixuG4uMBLcMK_ibSAua_7luq3446T0Msx9DkFsaI_RuZGGNEEEw2LLZ0rqgffaHer7M0_d99NBhjVh0rbc0BZM3cNtFDqe6khTYHUM11ocXSsZIiFPZGMgqzmBI/s1600/Man-yelling-at-computer-002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Vg3ZdJ3eWhujqJ_ciixuG4uMBLcMK_ibSAua_7luq3446T0Msx9DkFsaI_RuZGGNEEEw2LLZ0rqgffaHer7M0_d99NBhjVh0rbc0BZM3cNtFDqe6khTYHUM11ocXSsZIiFPZGMgqzmBI/s400/Man-yelling-at-computer-002.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The yawn went something like this...he might have missed the point, right?</td></tr>
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For a while I thought he was one of those rare less-educated Chinese retards (you seem to suck in superiority complex when there’s dearth of sleep) who was afraid I was going to mess the whole system up. Just out of feeble curiosity or more of a want to mock, I asked him till what he had studied. He said he was preparing for CCIE. I gaped at him; it was the hardest certification for a network engineer and nay, this guy wasn’t stupid. It was the strictness they maintained in following orders, the Chinese dictatorial way. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chaainees law mus follo ALL TAIMS</i>…oh my, I failed to see the deeper meaning.</div>
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The torture was relentless, not only due to the prolongation, but also for doing something entirely-so-worthless, like preventing TATA from losing out lakhs from a corrupted billing server (the thing responsible for billing your calls). On the contrary, if it hadn’t worked, the bills wouldn’t have been generated, and I would have been actually promoting ‘free’-dom of speech for my countrymen (at least for 5 million of those using TATA SIMs).</div>
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We should certainly be given capers as uniforms, reasons being;</div>
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1)<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>We are supposed to work like supermen and for mind-numbing long hours to save the asses of corporate honchos (Superman, saviour, caper – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">kapeesh?</i>)</div>
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2)<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>The work timings are when the sun hates to wake up; even the snoring security won’t take notice.</div>
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No, I didn’t get this idea because I haven’t been cured from the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wardrobe-malfunction</i> disease. It’s because I’m trying hard to think of a second time I could wear the crappy Kochi Tuskers tee other than a Netherlands World Cup match (be it football or cricket) or the next IPL season. Who am I kidding…I lost my money.</div>
</div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-22894084607418082132011-04-25T00:54:00.000-07:002011-05-04T23:37:04.878-07:00OPERATION 'GO PINK'!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">(This is a comic take on a rather worrying topic; the dip in the female child according to the 2011 census. It’s also a trial at a different writing form; this time, a puerile play.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>P.S: Do pardon the prison language; couldn’t put scholars as protagonists. And why lose the f*ckin’ liberty? Oops!</i>)<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">SCENE 1</span></b></span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">(It is a murky setting of a prison premise. Two convicts, one numbered A11 and the other B22, are seated on the floor, one facing the audience and the other sideways, to their left. Multiple footsteps are heard, followed by the sound of unlocking a key and a creaky door opening to the full. Enter a new convict, numbered C33. He sits next to the one facing the audience. The door creaks similarly shut.)</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br />
B22</b>: What are you in for?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: Rape…of my maid. You?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>B22</b>: <i>(Sarcastically)</i> Rape. Of a minor.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: <i>Yowza!</i> My sins are less grave bro…at least I ain’t a pedophile.<b><br />
B22</b>: You might wanna rethink that, considering she was the only ripe one in my village.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: <i>Dang!</i> That sucks dude…what aboutcha? <i>(Looking at A11)<br />
</i><b>A11</b>: <i>(After a brief silence)</i> Murder…of both the unfaithful wife and her faithful boyfriend.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: <i>Double-yowza!</i> Caught 'em in action eh? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>A11</b>: Yeha…<i>(with a slight smirk)</i> got them fairly inactive in two neat blows. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: <i>Brrrr (No he didn’t have a Coke, you corny jerks!)</i>…how many years are we talkin’ about?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>A11</b>: Life.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: Oh ok…uh wait, <i>WHAT??!!</i> That’s text-book injustice yo!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>B22</b>: No douche-bag, he didn’t mention it was HIS wife. He himself was being two-timed. Or three-timed?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: Oh I get it, you mean including that poor sucker right, the husband?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>A11: </b>I just chose the wrong day to surprise her.<b><br />
B22</b>: And the other prick chose the wrong day to score with her.<b><br />
C33</b>: You did give ‘em one hell of a surprise bro…her buggy hubby shuda bailed you out man. <i>(Pointing at B22)</i> How many have you got remaining?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>B22</b>: Me? Two left outta five.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: Haha, you do realize she’s legitimate now right? <i>Shucks</i>, you cuda avoided the ‘pedo’ tag!</span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">(B22 returns a grimace)</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: So I guess we are all un-guilty eh? Now coming to think of it yo…we all have the same god-damn problem man, except you man <i>(pointing at A11),</i> yours is some classic f*cked-up sh*t, but more or less, the issue is the same…that is the opposite sex. We are all deprived of that resource man…think about it, if there were more girls out there, would any of these happen? We are forced into doing all this sh*t man!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>B22</b>: So watcha saying? Start a family and reproduce only girls, and make that a role model?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: Naw…I mean yaa..somewhere around that line…except we convince every family in those backward settlements to keep that girl child man, she’s gonna save someone from becoming a rapist or a pedophile…more girls tomorrow, lesser crimes yo! We jus’ need to balance out the fish in the pool!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>B22</b>: Crazy as it may sound…I think you got a point.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: <i>Wicked!</i> I say we plan this <i>thang</i>, and once we get out of dis place in 3 years, we gonna start a revolution man…</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>B22</b>: Yea let’s start by giving it a name. Something like Go Green…Go girlie colour, <i>Go Pink!</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: Awesome yo!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>A11</b>: <i>Errr</i>…that’s already taken, it’s something related to breast cancer…</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: Who’s talking to you, Mr. Life-Sentence? We dig this sh*t, we come after 30 years to show ya what we accomplish!<br />
<b>(Act drop)</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br />
SCENE 2</span><br />
</b><i>(It is a newsroom. Several look busy; the news-lady adjusting her hair and reapplying her lipstick, the cameraman adjusting his equipment, couple of people browsing through the cues and cross-checking with the prompter, peons clearing the area, and the make-up men applying their final touches on the very two convicts belonging to the first scene, but looking very aged)<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br />
News-lady</b>: Today we have for our viewers something very special; an interview with the very two activists who pioneered OPERATION ‘GO PINK’ and made India a better place for women….we are very proud of you sirs! What do you have to say about your achievements?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>B22</b>: Well it has been a slow process…<i> (blabber…too lazy to type)<br />
</i><b>C33</b>: Yea ‘twas my idea basically…<i> (chatter… running outta ideas)</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>News-lady</b>: The next bulletin is an exclusive feature of the paradigm-shifts that the revolution has brought about. Let’s have a look at the most important of them all.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br />
(Gallant music starts playing)<br />
Reservations have been banished! Women constitute a significant number of parliament seats and government positions! Sex-related crimes are at all-time low! Female trafficking though continues on a larger scale</i>…<i> (bluh blah bleh)<br />
</i>Thus we bring our special bulletin to an end. Thank you sirs! <br />
<i>(End of music)</i><br />
<br />
In other news…the headlines are as follows;</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
<i>Wikileaks lost whatever significance it had in India. It simply couldn’t withstand the competition from gossip.</i></span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
BBC India buys rights to use Bollywood music in their pursuit to adapt the news-telling of ‘Star News’ and ‘Aaj Tak’ after declining TRPs.</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br />
M.S. Dhoni bares it all in this month’s issue of Maxim: Women's edition!</i><br />
<br />
<i> Shiv Sena protests against the calamitous increase in the number of male strip bars in the country.</i><br />
<b>(Act drop)</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br />
SCENE 3</span><br />
</b><i>(It’s the same setting as the first scene. This time, only an old and heavily-bearded A11 is present. After a brief moment, enter B22 and C33, but not as visitors as promised, but again as convicts!)<br />
<br />
</i><b>A11:</b> Aah, look who’s here! The revolutionaries are back in their den! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>B22</b>: Mock all you want, ‘cos even if you do a Shawshank, you will swim back through all that slush rather than facing the world out there!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>A11</b>: You guys screwed that much?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: We neva foresaw this yo...eva since they passed the ‘<b>Unforgivable</b>’ act, guys have bin pourin’ into the cells.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>A11</b>: WTF is that?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>B22</b>: Any man who once confesses to a mistake is liable to be punished under any circumstance irrespective of when the mistake occurred.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>A11</b>: You saying there’s no time-line? You have been convicted again on counts of your <i>earlier</i> crimes?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: Yea bro, as the saying goes, women never forgive.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>A11</b>: That isn’t a saying.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: Says the guy who’s bin isolated for a generation.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>A11</b>: It’s you two who should isolate your sorry asses…o villains of manhood! The new inmates will so wanna barbeque ‘em! Hell even I might get a quotation!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>(Both B22 and C33 stare at him)<br />
</i><b>C33</b>: Don’t gimme any more cold vibes yo, we have already bin skinned mentally.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>A11</b>: When, the interrogation? <i>(B22 nods)</i> By whom, female officers?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: Yeha, they unleashed their fatal tool...<i>nagging!</i> I wuda rather got beaten up or faced the ice-torture man...I can even count my remaining brain cells!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>A11</b>: <i>Gosh!</i> You actually had brain cells? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>(C33 frowns)<br />
</i><b>C33</b>: So we have learnt an important lesson right? Any gender bettering the other is a problem for the latter?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>A11</b>: <i>Pshaw</i> yehaa….it just shaved 30 years off your worthless lives to savour it!</span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">(C33 turns more indignant)</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>B22</b>: At least you were right about one thing. This whole fiasco seemed cancer-like…the hens overwhelmed us like treacherous cancer cells.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>A11</b>: No…it’s a campaign for breast cancer awareness and is held every…</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>C33</b>: SHUTCHA PIE-HOLE, MORON!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br />
</b> <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>(Tableau)</b><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
[In order to allay my fears of feminist-attacks, this is a tongue-in-cheek post. Not convinced? <b>;P</b> !]</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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</div></div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-26412565781159002012011-03-05T03:29:00.000-08:002011-04-19T15:53:23.453-07:00The Patriarch<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">(Err..I agree I've been employing the melancholy theme for quite a few posts, but this one's lyka food-for-thought, specially for those affected by the urban modus vivendi)<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Hello, son…”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“What happened, Maa? Tell me quickly. I am busy.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
“How come you are so busy all the time? Why can’t you…”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
“Stop ranting, Maa…I am driving, seriously…what’s the matter? Now don’t tell me you called to ‘hear my voice’ and things like that…”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
“I called to tell you that your dad's depressed as of late.” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
“What? Come on, Maa…I know this is one of your ploys to make me come meet you…”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
“I am done arguing with you, come if you care. Otherwise, carry on with whatever nonsense you are doing!” CLICK!!! She shut the phone rather hard. He was unsure if he heard a sob in that process.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
“Yeah right…Dad and depression…<i>pshaw</i>…like that’s possible.” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
He was stuck in traffic. He was on his way to the dentist for a check on a fiddling toothache. His car stereo was down, and he didn’t have enough credit on his smartphone to surf the net. With nothing else to do, he thought on.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
“Hmmm…Mom was kinda over-dramatic. More than her usual tantrums. Is there really something to worry about? I know Dad’s way past his prime, hoary and feeble, and so are his friends. All he gets to do is sit comfily all day watching television. With the kind of shows being aired and Mom’s dominance over the remote, anyone would undergo brain-damage!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
Earsplitting horns compelled him to budge his car a few metres. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
“Battling the blues…that’s one extremely tough exercise. The few months without a job; those were terrible times for me. I kept pondering about the future and the choices at my disposal. I consistently reviewed myself to figure out where I had gone wrong. I isolated myself from the rest of the world, literally! I had yearned for someone to share my woes with, but due to some preconceived egotism, I never did. I mean, we wouldn’t want anyone to portray us as weak, right? But what’s Dad got to be so gloomy about?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
He stopped reflecting for a moment. Voices from the past, mentioning that he was similar to his Dad in aspects of habit and attitude, resounded in his head.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
“Dad must be encountering the same sorta situation…he’s bored out of his wits, no longer a person of importance, and has been dethroned as the patriarch. Hence he’s showcasing his ire on Mom, taking cue from the gobs of fights he’s been having with her. He’s being punished for prolonging cordial terms with his friends, not making a sincere attempt with his own wife or children. A trait I have inherited, and which I should soon cease.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
His last tooth knocked him a reminding pain, and he stuck his finger into his mouth to press it down. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Maybe that’s why they call it the wisdom tooth.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
He looked at his watch. Only ten minutes had passed since the call. He reprimanded himself for not spending time this trivial, let alone think about his parents.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
“We tend to bullshit that we don’t have time…this ’lack-of-time’ is a self-evocative white lie with dreadful implications. The truth is we try to keep ourselves unnecessarily occupied, and the alternatives for that have only increased over the years; be it the television, endless parties with friends, reckless gaming, oodles of hours over Facebook… we coerce ourselves to seek for entertainment forever. In order to kill time, I was, and I am, killing my relationships akin. Why blame it only on Dad, as a son there was round zero effort from my part.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
He was now in fact thankful that the stereo was damaged, that he was unable to use the net, and that he was caught in traffic. All that basically took for him to be with himself. Along with the newly-sprout wisdom, a blanket of guilt smothered him.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
He dialed his wife and told her to pack the bags. “We are going home tonight, dear…” Before she could ask anything, he cut the line.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
He was unsure if his wife heard his sob in the process. </div></div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-49191480148634949652011-01-11T12:01:00.000-08:002011-04-19T11:20:55.971-07:00Part 3: My China Diary<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">“I AM SORRY ‘COS WHAT I MEANT WAS I AM SORRY!”</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">I undertook the bravest (considering how brave ‘I’ could possibly get!) and unforgivably the stupidest of my adventures in China. Few friends from my high school are learning medicine in Wuhan University; the place Wuhan being 1200 km away from where I was residing, Shenzhen. My training period was supposed to be till December-January, but due to a financial crunch we had to continue training in India. So the news had come as a shocker; we were informed just one week before departure. Much like the no.1 postulate in securing a B-Tech <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(Thou shall leave everything to the last moment)</i>, we had a lot of unaccomplished ‘must-do/must-visit’ things in China. Eventually I was left with this drastic decision to make; a solitary trip to Wuhan. I was guilty conscious, and I didn’t know why. Maybe it was the fact that I had come all the way to China, and if I still didn’t manage to meet them, it would sting me later. But hell, I hadn’t even seen the Great Wall ‘cos of the remoteness! (Now now, before you gasp, let me ask you, have you ever seen the Taj Mahal? Well knock knock, China is a whole lot bigger!) Many conflicting arguments rose in my head…”<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You have been in bare touch with them!” “But that’s ‘cos they were in China!” “Is it necessary to risk it all?</i>” Bah. All crap. I was going.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
When I reached the station, I thought again, what’s the worst that could happen to me? Stripped off my passport, wallet and mobile? Lost in a place where none knew English? Hmm…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">oh no, oh drat. I wanna go back!</i> But I was already right in front of the counter. The ticket lady looked on.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
“One ticket – Wuhan”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“</span>只有无座票可用。你要吗<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh…heh…err…yes yes, that one only!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“154</span>元。出发时间下午<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">5:45</span>。<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
Now 5:45 is a time description and 154 had to be the price. I flashed the currencies and she paid the remaining amount. Hey, this ain’t so hard after all. I proceeded to search for the train. There were digital clocks that also mentioned the train standing at the platform. I was critically on time and as soon as the clock struck 5:45 p.m., one of the trains started moving; I took a wild hit and jumped into my bogey. It was the general compartment, and I noticed most seats were occupied, and many were standing. In panic I probed my ticket for the seat number, and didn’t find one. Realization hit me brutally; what the chinki meant was there were only <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">standing tickets</i> available! I looked again at arrival time; 7:00 am…hmm…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">over 12 hours standing?!?!</i> The longest I stood was 4 hours for a Malayalam movie <i>(Kangaroo)</i> ticket! And that ended in disaster!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
Two night-outs of shopping and clubbing, and I was onto the third one. My eyes were crying for some shut-time. The very thought of 12 hours ached my legs. Many looked at me as an alien who left his spaceship and chose to travel by their train. I remained silent and braced myself for the agony ahead. After a while, many fond memories started appearing out of nowhere; college, school, family…it was like death was fast approaching! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
There was this comic salesman who kept walking up and down the bogey corridor. And he was beginning to piss me off. ‘Cos everyone were amused by him while I couldn’t understand, and I had to adjust every time he made a move. Besides I was wearing these huge-ass Woodland shoes; the soles kept stomping others’ feet. Now there was something like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘ke-bu-chi’</i> or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘bu-ke-chi’ </i>(I wasn’t sure which) that meant <i>‘I am sorry’</i>. I chose <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘bu-ke-chi’</i> and kept on saying that when the trudging occurred. But that was received only by colder snares and occasional swears. I wondered what was wrong with these people! It was only after reaching the destination my friend made me realize that the innocent exchange of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘ke’</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘bu’</i> had an immense change in their respective meanings;<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> I was saying “You are welcome!” all the time their poor feet underwent torture!</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
Hours later I could feel my knees dismantling by themselves. With an overly helpless look I asked one of the Chinese if he could give me a little space. As expected, he didn’t understand. I didn’t have the energy to do Dumb-Charades. But he all of a sudden got excited that I didn’t know Chinese, and passed this message to his neighbours. After a while it became the talk of the bogey. He offered me some place and a couple of Chinese moms even gave me fruits (My mom had said <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Never take stuff offered by a stranger</i>, but here there were just too many strangers!) Couple of gals* who knew English came forward and chit-chatted with me; they gave me their QQ** and their mobile no.s (that was to date the easiest yet most excruciating way to get a gal’s no.!) They asked my age and I took a second useless dig at Chinese; I ended up saying I’m 11 years old. Point is: I was struck by their hospitality; maybe I had gotten myself into the luckiest of bogies…but would a foreigner in an Indian train be treated with so much of kindness? Only if he were to be robbed after that. What more, a cold storm hit that area and the temperatures fell below 12<sup>o</sup>C. Perfect timing, oh weather gods! Draped with only a shirt, I shivered my teeth out. The Chinese had seen this coming…maybe their meteorological department employed the Oracle; anyways most of them had spare sweaters. Looking at my misery, one elderly dude gave me his jacket. I was dazed by the generosity; I would have changed my nationality then and there if an embassy existed on the train! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">*Chinese gals define the way God meant to make a woman; so friendly, so forward and reservation-less (well, that depends upon how you define reservation). Though they may not be visually extravagant, they sure do know how to look cute. It’s high time the Chinese’s outlook altered the Indian male’s mind-frame that goes something like: “Oh she’s so beautiful, I can never have her, but hey, I sure could stalk her!” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(No? Do pay a visit to Brigade Road, Bangalore next New Year’s eve!)</i> And the Indian female’s attitude: “Damn I look better than half of the girls out there, now I have to have an ego!” (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Please, no male Vs female chauvinistic arguments here…the above-said traits do exist, let’s hope not in abundance) </i>Perhaps it’s ‘cos they possess matching degree of beauty, ergo the chinkis lack ego!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
**QQ is the Chinese duplicate of Facebook; but it’s fully equipped with a messenger plus video-chatting module. It’s also used for high-profile business video conferencing, but mostly for hitting on girls! On registering you will get a unique QQ no.; so if you want to add a friend, you will need his/her QQ no</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px;">. So if you are able to interest a chinki, she will certainly give you her QQ no.; you have to be a storm to get her mobile no.! In the clubs, we would chant <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“I QQ? You QQ? We QQ!” </i>for hours to get one…guess travelling by their trains is a slightly better option! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<b><i>FAQ:</i></b> Can I try and use it from India? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yes amigo, go getcha QQ today and charm those chinkis!</i> Oh also one more piece of advice, don’t try to be too conspicuous or to-the-fore with them, or else you will be walking with a 2 metre radius Laxman-rekha!</span></div></div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-35238783495713943462010-12-27T11:56:00.000-08:002011-04-19T11:20:25.583-07:00Part 2: My China Diary<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;">Reading prequel is mandatory before the sequel ;) !</span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
“WHERE'S THE FLIGHT?” DEBACLE</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px;">This is bound to happen in any humongous airport, and might have happened afore. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Location</i>: The never- terminating Indira Gandhi terminal<br />
Air India, as is regulatory for them, was 5 hours late. In the wee hours of dawn, we slept on the waiting couches. An hour and a half before boarding time, couple of us woke up and proceeded to the gate. When our ever-caring friends woke up later, they found us missing. Satish (one of ‘em) advanced to the ‘Announcements’ receptionist and convinced her the boarding time had started. I was hopelessly taking photos, when the speakers echoed, “This is the last and final boarding call for K.Aditya Das for the flight AI 349. Please proceed to Gate 3 immediately.” Stunned as I obviously was, I checked the gate and the time and the flight label. All were correct! How come they didn’t tell me to get in earlier? As I kept wondering, rest of the fifty odd passengers waiting at the gate, who were already infuriated with the delay, started yelling, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Where’s the damn flight? Why dint they inform us? How come we dint get in? WHO’S DIS ADITYA AND DAS?!!”</i> I receded from the mob, at times I too repeated, “Who the HELL is this guy?” The AI officials arrived and were at a loss in trying to calm them down. I took pity and raised my hand. The relief on their faces when the blame shifted to my friends…man, don’t Indians love the blame game!</span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;">“Bhai, aap ladka hai na?”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px;">Tired and sleep-deprived, Satish walked in vain in search of a toilet in the Indira Gandhi Terminal. I found one of those he/she signboards and pointed it out to him. He strode forth and then turned around to ask me if it was a male toilet. Before I could say ‘yes’, he looked inside and saw a guy doing his business. He asked him, “Bhai, yeh guys toilet hai na?” <i>(Bro, is this the guys' toilet?")</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;">Yashpal Singh- The Negotiator</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">We had this grand individual among us; he was several years elder to us but never expressed his seniority – but such people I strongly advise to demand the required respect – ‘cos sooner or later, we, the younger twerps, are gonna treat you like sh*t! He had several names – the priest, the cook, angry young man, photo-man etc. But his ultimate trait that we came across was during shopping, or precisely, price-negotiating. On a usual weekend we were at the hub of electronics duplication, Hua Qiang Bey (in Shenzhen) - Thousands of stall-like shops in over ten buildings, possibly</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">hundreds in a single building itself, sprawling to at least 6 floors, strewn in a single shopping street of not more than 300m.</span></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">The intention was to buy a fake iPod Nano. We were 10 in number. More the amount, better the discount. Negotiating is a skill possessed by few. When they say 1000 (yuan), we start at 100. Presto comes the exchange of tempers. They tell us to go away. We begin the slow motion walk backwards. They might swear at us but that’s the one time you are happy to not know the language. Then they call us back. To stay, prolong the process and eat their head till they stumble to our final price; THAT’s where the skill lies.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">We were in for a treat; we were to hear some of the most ridiculous comments ever.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
“You, mai goood fraaaannd” </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(Some of us do this; speak English alien-ly thinking they would understand it better!)</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px;">“We buy 10 now, 100 tomaaaro.”</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">“Prraaaij bery haai…Make low, make low!”</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">“I am from ZTE, look theeeessh. ZTE baaay mooore.” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(shows off our tag, in what weirdest of dimensions would a telecom company want fake IPod Nanos?!)</i></span></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Finally the vendor pulled his hair and a couple of strands came out. I thought Yashpal had sealed the deal. No nonsense, 100 minutes had passed. When he gruffly packed them, Yashpal blurted…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">“I WANT THREE YEARS <b><i>INTERNATIONAL WARRANTY</i></b>!!!” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(Heh, not one, but three and that too an international one, for a fake! Wonder if they duplicate warranties also…)</i><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibAttyQHJgM7DyCTi-GAVs1K033ov6tf7A_paHXHDVGMOzH2wDk-ZpVOyGqHmM1G6P74bnI8t12EEiBtns4us95vVb4UH3J83qX0R6xT9JJ05NljaDr2TUQcB-Ha0y97Qiyg5pneGxB_L-/s1600/shanzhai-ipod_1.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibAttyQHJgM7DyCTi-GAVs1K033ov6tf7A_paHXHDVGMOzH2wDk-ZpVOyGqHmM1G6P74bnI8t12EEiBtns4us95vVb4UH3J83qX0R6xT9JJ05NljaDr2TUQcB-Ha0y97Qiyg5pneGxB_L-/s320/shanzhai-ipod_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Very few giveaways!</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br />
</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“Can I have your…WAIT A MIN!!!”</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">We went to this highly Indian-recommended club; most clubs we had visited till then had girls in their late teens – most of them either college students or party freaks. We witnessed a scene beyond the wildest of nightmares; 40-year old ultra-despo white-bearded Indian buddas on the dancefloor with plump stationary bellies covered by extremely-stretched shirts, unbuttoned at the top where their overgrown chest hair danced alongwith the flabby arms like flapping chickens, tight jeans with heavily-buckled belts and to top it all, leather boots. It was one of the times I would have preferred watching the worm-eating in AXN Fear Factor. We belched and looked around for female company. There were Russians, Americans and Chinkis; all slightly aged but gorgeous and sexy. Weren't they getting bored not dancing? Anyways some of us proceeded to try our luck. Ashwin spotted one and got cosy with her after exchanging few words. Rest of ours eyes on Russian belly-dancers, a sight we knew we might not relish again. Ashwin on the other hand came back after a while. <br />
“Kyun, kya hua? Jaake chance maarna?” <i>(Why, what happened? Not flirting?)</i><br />
“I thought I was charming. Kuch der baad woh mere ko boli –<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> 100 USD for one hour</i>!!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></span></div></div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-70288850149692575602010-12-17T12:02:00.000-08:002011-04-19T11:24:34.255-07:00My China Diary<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">Confucius had gotten tired of making the Chinese over and over (raise to 10<sup>9</sup>) again. He knew xerox was the solution, so He went to a vendor and asked <i>(Remember Russell Peters’ tone):</i></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">“Aai van foutocaupy musheen.” (<i>I want photocopy machine</i>)<br />
Vendor: “Haav vil dei divren-shi-ayte?” <i>(How will they differentiate?) </i><br />
“Dei oupan baba shp evelyver. Dei maik weed hailstaal.” <i>(They open barber shop everywhere. They make weird hairstyle!)</i><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8LT0BhSP88SEnzzBa8SrmFZmu1c7AEdzs3pwcruKCM8oOvEOjxw54ERshqeOPyQQlMotDrTXjcjmuqqZQFBmpG-XZ9EvIkjDD5jBtBGadeHf4czjUgjCnXzbORlM3XBXG4SB0YfYjSPVz/s1600/QHD_Grp9.jpg" imageanchor="1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8LT0BhSP88SEnzzBa8SrmFZmu1c7AEdzs3pwcruKCM8oOvEOjxw54ERshqeOPyQQlMotDrTXjcjmuqqZQFBmpG-XZ9EvIkjDD5jBtBGadeHf4czjUgjCnXzbORlM3XBXG4SB0YfYjSPVz/s400/QHD_Grp9.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Similar hairstyle is injurious to their identification (Wonder what would be the difficulty level of the Chinese version of '<i>Where's Waldo'</i>?)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">I ain’t joking. Barber shops are in plenty; moreover they have their own unique zebra billboard. Other peculiarities?</span><br />
<br />
No birds, even to freaking chirp here. Maneka Gandhi should have been born here. Heck, they would have eaten her as well.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">I thought Lady Gaga was odd. I saw the Chinese and realized her looks were the fashion statement.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Everyone looks like they are body-waxed and hair-straightened by birth. <i>Vatika</i> or <i>Head & Shoulders</i> won’t have to pay for those shiny, ultra-straight, pitch-black wigs for an ad with a Chinese actress.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Every mammal, reptile or insect here believes that breathing is the greatest punishment given to them by God. ‘Cos that’s the only prerequisite to land into the Chinese cooking pot.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Aah…I feel liberated, just like Chandler who blurts out sarcasms at the end of the episode in which he fails the bet not to criticize anyone for a week. <i>(I’m making it clear that above comments are strictly humour-based and not meant to hurt feelings of any kind. ‘Cos you know, I don’t wanna serve time in a Chinese labour camp!)<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Lemme start afresh.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="line-height: 115%;">China</span></i><span style="line-height: 115%;">. An awesome place with great people, as well as a terribly-must-visit for people of all ages and genres – whether he/she loves partying, shopping, sight-seeing, trekking, etc. Other than the umpteen tourist locations in China, if you love casinos, you should head to Macau , or if you want the whole entertainment package of doing anything and everything in a short time, head to Hong Kong. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">I have a lot of anecdotes to share, and since I have been bitten by the ‘Ramgopal Varma ki Sequels’ bug, and to save your precious time, I’m splitting this otherwise too-long-that-you-will-chuck-it blog. Without further ado, here I go.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>1. “I WANT MY COIN BACK!!!”<o:p></o:p></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">This happened during the first days. A neatly clad Chinese woman in her forties came up to me and bowed her head. Thinking it was a customary courtesy, I too bowed back. She showed me a small utensil. I needed one badly, because we were cooking and let’s say I didn’t have the necessities. So I checked it, tapped it, weighed it, and I was content with it. I asked her how much, and she pointed one finger to me. I was surprised, “Wow, a yuan for this, totally worth it!” I gave her the coin, only to be snatched away from me, alongwith the utensil. I stood bewildered, “What the heck, daylight robbery!” Few seconds later I saw her offering the same thing to a passerby. Realization struck late, embarrassment later. Like Mohanlal’s classic dialogue in Kilukkam, “Ithu nalla STAAILAN PICHCHAKAARI!!” <i>(This is one stylish beggar!!!)</i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><b>2. MR. INTERNATIONAL</b></span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br />
Many of us were on an international platform for the first time; we were training with myriad nationalities – Indonesians, Malaysians, Colombians, Mexicans, Turkish folks, etc. Oops, I forgot the Chinese. And the Russians (;D…\m/…). So it was upto everyone to make their own mark, and it wasn’t easy as there was 'competition'; we Indians were 25 in number, and there were max four from each other nation. Some of us were too forward, others ancient, in their ‘approach’ methods. An example for the former; one of us bought a necklace for a Colombian gal on her birthday, that too on the second day of meeting her! There was this Russian who many tried talking to, but she being kinda a late ice-breaker got irritated. Then one of us, her biggest fan, tried to rise up to the occasion. He coughed, straightened up, walked slowly upto her and said the best that could come to his mind,” Excuse me, if my <i>countrymen</i> have in any way committed any action that might have caused any sort of disturbance, I apologize <i>on behalf of India!!</i>” Guess patriotism and gentlemanliness together played a far hand.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><b>3. MISADVENTURES OF DASANOVA</b><br />
</span><span style="line-height: 115%;">(The above name was coined by one of my very desperate friends, when he wanted ‘tips’ for feminine friendship (that too, <i>from me?!?!)</i> as he grossly mistook me as a ‘Casanova’…)<br />
<br />
I too had a few stumbling moments before success in befriending the international gals. One of them was when I tried notching a conversation with this hot Russian who was fond of literature. I got a golden chance to sit alongside her in a bus trip. She was reading Dostoyevsky (I was steamrolled by Pulimon when I posted this in Buzz) and by courtesy of our ever-idealistic Ullas, I had a faint memory of reading his famous ‘Crime & Punishment’.</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
<i style="line-height: 115%;"><b>Me</b>:</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"> “You reading Dostoyevsky?”</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 115%;"><i>She</i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;">: “Yes yes, how do you know him?”<br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 115%;"><i>Me</i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"> : “Oh who doesn’t! He’s a fantastic story-teller. In India most know him (:D). I am in love with his book, ‘Crime & Punishment', I regard it as his greatest work." (At this moment I chided myself for saying the last part, and prayed she would never ask the hardest question to answer, “What else have you read?”; a guy’s mind must be capable of thinking ahead and delivering clever comebacks in these situations, but unfortunately the best I could come up for cover was, </span><i style="line-height: 115%;">“I was so much in love with ‘Crime…’ that I forgot about the others…”</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;">) </span><b style="line-height: 115%;"><i><br />
</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 115%;"><i>She</i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;">: “Oh yes, that’s the most popular of his works. He has written a lot of other thought-provoking short stories.”</span><i style="line-height: 115%;"><b><br />
</b></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="line-height: 115%;"><b>Me</b> </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;">: “Okay, that’s nice…perhaps I should take to him since you said so…” she grins, and my inside told me, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;">“For the first time in your boring life, Das, I'm proud of ya! Her name’s Smirnova, ooh, you could be rechristen </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">yourself</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"> as Dasanova!”</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"> The mind, and time, were flying. I had to prolong the conversation. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"> “Who else do you read?”</span><b style="line-height: 115%;"><i><br />
</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 115%;"><i>She</i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"> : “Fyodor on the most part. There are many other good Russian authors too. I haven’t read many English works though. You could recommend me some. Fyodor’s ‘White Nights’…that’s the one I love the most. It’s about…" (she talks on) </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;">In the meantime…</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><i>Fyodor? Who’s this dude? Good going Das boy…next tactic? Now since she loves his work, I could fake reading his work also and praise him and we would be sharing the same taste, voila! </i></span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;"><br />
Me</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;">: “Now this Fyodor, what is he famous for?”</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 115%;"><i>She</i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;">: “Eh…what?!”</span><br />
<i style="line-height: 115%;">Oops, what did I say wrong? Quick, quick, troubleshoot you moron!<br />
</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;">My eyes fell graciously on the first page of her book…it read </span><b style="line-height: 115%;">FYODOR </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;">DOSTOYEVSKY…</span><b style="line-height: 115%;"><i><br />
</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 115%;"><i>Me</i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;">: “Oh …ahem…what ELSE is he famous for?”</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"></span><b style="line-height: 115%;"><i>She</i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;">: “Oh there’s his another…”</span></span><br />
<i style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Phew, close shave! Your processor is improving, now you actually have a shot at J.A.M!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes, all it takes is a word to save a lie.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Hang around, there’s more to come...<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div></div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-45142828551789165812010-08-05T12:05:00.000-07:002011-04-19T11:53:39.491-07:00A bus story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;">It was 6:30 pm. A rain-drenched Aravind waited expectantly at the bus stand for the penultimate bus to the stop closest to his home. He had shifted schools from the Middle East to Chennai a week back in order to pursue good entrance coaching. And he was starting to get used to what was going to be his routine for the next two years; school till 4 o’clock and tuitions till 6.</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The bus arrived. It hadn’t pulled to a complete stop yet but the ‘getting down-getting in’ war ensued; a swarm of people undoing their umbrellas and trying to find ground leg-attacked by another swarm enfolding their umbrellas and trying to find the lowest step. Even if ample seats are available or the crowd is less, adults can’t resist the infantile or rather pirate-like temptation to get in by the roughest of means and grab on to a seat so dear like treasure, thought Aravind (who was swallowed by the mob).</div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">He got one eventually. The bus was waiting its quota of ten minutes before the next bus arrived; the conductor shouted out the parrot-phrase route and gestured at every passer-by to get in, as if his was the only bus to utopia. The bus had gradually become full when a drunken man in his sixties wobbled into it. He didn’t have to create a scene; if you are drunk, you are the scene. Aravind looked on like everyone else as the weak hands desperately found the climbing bar and heaved the body up like a saggy sack of bones. The gossipers had already begun maundering his past; soon Aravind learnt that his only son and daughter-in-law passed away in a landslide not long ago, and he spent most of his pension money quaffing alcohol at the bar while his wife mourned at home. Creating a scene is like hitting a Google/Wiki search button; one click and instant information, simpered Aravind.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">He was in, finally. He paused for breath and balance; his sight glided through every occupied seat as his eyelids trembled to stay up. Aravind remembered he was in the ‘Senior Citizen’ seat; a streak of courtesy flashed through him. Though no one cared about the label of one’s seat, at least my stop isn’t far off, Aravind reasoned to himself. He got up and motioned the old drunk to sit; he didn’t comprehend at first, but Aravind nudged him into doing it. His cheeks widened and the wet lips slightly opened to expose the few remaining teeth he had; Aravind acknowledged it as a smile.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The whistle blew. The bus chugged into gear; the conductor jumped in the last after being sworn at by the driver of the recent bus for not taking off earlier. His process of collecting tickets reached the old man; when he understood he was drunk, in an instant his composure changed, and he asked gruffly, “To where?!” He knew where the old fellow was headed to; he popped the question to test his state of intoxication. He was sober enough to answer and take out the ten rupee note out of his shirt pocket. The conductor did the act of rummaging his bag for change and squeezed ahead.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Minutes later, a small scuffle commenced. Aravind looked back only to see the drunk elbowing people trying to get into his seat. His eyes fell on the boy; his bony fingers then wrapped themselves around the fleshy muscle of Aravind’s arm, and pulled him to the seat with quite some force. “My stop is only a little away, grandpa” stated Aravind. “Till then you sit, son…” piffled the old man, “my stop is next…very few kids have courtesy nowadays…they must be encouraged to continue their deed…and pass it in future…I want to die a good man…and good men must return gratitude…I don’t have much time left in this world…and so I help you now itself…I don’t have any means of repaying otherwise…” The bus screeched to a halt; the old drunk got down and was on his way, still walking clumsily but briskly. Aravind had registered the unordered flow of sentences; he thought about it for a moment. Experience and wisdom grew with age, but maybe it takes an eccentric to actually impart them, he said to himself. With an added sense of pride, he got up to offer his seat to the standing disgruntled elders.</div></div></div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-29704156535468223002010-06-17T11:04:00.000-07:002011-04-19T11:59:08.636-07:00Raavan Review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgumn62NL0kOFuALGV622KGrL2gu_WItEoGJ2i25ZG-KGfLTfdjJXq2YIkYEBMcy_CVkrWg1OJ2nl_eTTPkeu5HVtbycB5Ngu9lu0_ax_jVMHH6XrObYfrI_sl_EEGkR7ZkTGfh8U5OC23f/s1600/1024-1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483823255768125298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgumn62NL0kOFuALGV622KGrL2gu_WItEoGJ2i25ZG-KGfLTfdjJXq2YIkYEBMcy_CVkrWg1OJ2nl_eTTPkeu5HVtbycB5Ngu9lu0_ax_jVMHH6XrObYfrI_sl_EEGkR7ZkTGfh8U5OC23f/s320/1024-1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Modern-day Ramayan adaptation? </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Haha Mani Ratnam…you got me there.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">One expects certain routine things when you go for a Ratnam-Rahman combo…an awesome background score, a different topic, beautifully photographed songs, unique lighting…and guaranteed substance.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Most of the above goes same for this movie, except for the story. It ain't a 100% rewrite.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">What I feel Ratnam has done by claiming a Ramayan-ripoff is a great promotion strategy for the movie. Because you have registered in your head that it is indeed Ramayan, you know what’s gonna happen to Beera(Abhishek Bachchan), and you try connecting every new character that appears on screen to the epic saga. What then happens as the movie flows, is a normal Bollywoodish narrative converting itself into one with unexpected twists and turns. I mean that it is a simple story, but it is different because you are thinking different with a foreseen ending. Now that’s an idea sirji!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Abhishek comes off again with a stellar performance. I was convinced after seeing 'Sarkar' and 'Yuva', that he’s not another actor basking in his dad’s already-carpeted glory. Aishwarya Rai(as his wife Raghini) also puts forth a fantastic performance. Vikram(as Dev, the righteous cop) does well too. But Beera’s charisma outclasses them.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Now, about the movie. It is a visually extravagant art film with a not-so-strong plot. First of all, MIND-BLAASTING CINEMATOGRAPHY…bravo SANTOSH SIVAN & MANIKANDAN! A tad similar to ‘Before the Rains’, but if you had missed that movie, then prepare to get awed by a never-before captured beauty of south India, including the forests of Karnataka(Tumkur), Kerala (Athirapilly Falls), Ooty, Hoggenakal, Jhansi, Kolkata, M<span style="text-decoration: none;">ahabaleshwar</span> and in the Malshej Ghats in Maharashtra. Even with such a diversity in locations, there’s not one moment you feel that the scenes lack connection. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I am not giving away any synopsis, but I would certainly claim that nothing is overdone.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">And that I had mentioned the story’s not unique, the screenplay isn’t outstanding either. The pace is slow in the first half, which gets intriguing towards the end. At times you wonder where the movie’s heading, especially at the intermission. But Rahman’s music doesn’t allow your attention to stray(I loved "Behne De") and his score simply enhances Sivan-Manikandan's magic. Some of the shots, especially at the climax, have been taken so breathtakingly that you suspect a <st1:place st="on">Hollywood</st1:place> hand.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">About acting other than the core three, none let down. Govinda didn’t have to perform much on-screen, thank you Mani! Priyamani justifies her National Award (for Best Actress last year) by remarkably enacting a role critical to the movie. Vikram’s and Priyamani’s dialogue delivery in Hindi were more or less flawless. Choreography, costumes, make-up(they keep on smearing themselves with either turmeric or mud!) and Ash's no make-up, Beera's brothers...all deserve mention.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">If you are a person who judges a character’s pursuit and the influenced decisions he/she makes in a movie (basically who thinks too much!), there will arise debates about Raghini’s feelings, Beera’s doings and Dev’s attitude…but the decision of who’s right or wrong is entirely put to you. For me, it was all Beera.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I am yet watch Vikram as Raavan in Tamil, but I am assured that he’s gonna rock it. Jealousy erupts at the very thought of Prithviraj’s luck to act alongside Ash…so definitely some points off for the Tamil version!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">CONCLUSION</span></b>(according to me!) : Not Ratnam-Rahman’s best work to date, but it will be definitely remembered for Sivan-Manikandan, and the quality acting.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Dussssssssssssss mein se saath! (7/10)</div></div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-32181651167134048202010-06-07T23:59:00.001-07:002011-04-19T15:21:56.714-07:00MB Tops – A Panegyric<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(This is a tribute to the time we spent at the top of the Main Buliding of National Institute of Technology, Calicut)</span></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">LOCATION 1:</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hostel room</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i></i></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i></i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The days were numbered,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Nostalgia kicked in…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But Tintin always bickered,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Whadda hell r v missin’?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The night was young,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">our folks were bored…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At once Raj’s arms swung,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“MB Tops!” he bellowed.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Following Raj* n’ Tintin were,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(*who led the way…)</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Nair, Sreeraj, HP, Pakpak, Kishore,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Kolady, Bala, Fad, Prema n’ Josay!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We climbed up the stairs,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">onto the roof of asbestos…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">From the noise, we’d our fears,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To breakage, ‘twas close.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">LOCATION 2:</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">MB Tops</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pakpak took his bag n’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">some bottles did thud…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We bragged in unison,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Dude, u r my best BUD**!"<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>[**Budweiser, you imbeciles!]</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Coil et al we’d accrued,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(which we’re to cremate…)</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Then to a higher altitude,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">our bliss did elevate.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fad sang many a tune,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Strings did Tintin tweak…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Kolady clicked the moon,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">N’ a few took a leak.[onto the ATM!]</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The dawn was born,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">we stopped our chatter…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For the sky had adorn,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">its best attire ever.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Myriad colours would twine,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">like paints on a palette…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We lauded the Artist divine,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">n’ plunged into sleep, quiet.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The morning grew slowly,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Kolady simply looked down…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dazed he became suddenly,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">for he saw the Director frown!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He forgot our case,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">n’ left his precious cam;</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What befell him was disgrace,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">for all he did was scram!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">HP got into the act,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">at our feet we arose…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Prema fled hilarious, in fact;</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">with guitar, bag n’ pillows!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bala tried to get down,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">N’ stretched his knee…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I can’t find ground!” (he said)</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Much to everyone’s glee.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">HP was caught in flight but,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">with the cam you see…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Sir, this is an archi project!”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He bought that easily!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">All in all, I got to learn,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(a couple of things)</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">from the MB sojourn…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Wherever you are, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">high or low...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mosquitoes will be there,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">to add to your woe!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Kanyakumari oft boasts,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">of sunsets so beautiful…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Why go the distance,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">is it really fruitful?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In my opinion pristine,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(after a bit of ponder)</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To view this scene,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">no need to go yonder.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sunrises/sets are a wonder,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">no matter where you watch.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">All you gotta do is discover,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">the right place to catch!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At this ode, perhaps</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">with words I did fail…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I think the following snaps,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">will surely make you hail!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oh btw, a panegyric</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">is an expression of praise…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is one bad limerick,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m endin’ dis mental malaise!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">CLICK</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/adidash.88/MBTops"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">http://picasaweb.google.com/adidash.88/MBTops</span></span></a></div></div></div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-58919468557221019232010-04-07T07:51:00.000-07:002011-04-19T15:23:03.441-07:00Back to drawing after a two-year drought!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvfNaA2s_j7WSbgHSq-MShUTxREbOEEYLIdLd4OuGYG7g2e6XwqTb0eIC6S5YTdzoo9-laz7DkeRG0ppm3IkZI6yUDU3I-fqITf2TalgGoEujI5Rja6wgNKvBLI6Sn3WxqEgvfd9woDyXM/s1600/DSC03568.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457410576803152482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvfNaA2s_j7WSbgHSq-MShUTxREbOEEYLIdLd4OuGYG7g2e6XwqTb0eIC6S5YTdzoo9-laz7DkeRG0ppm3IkZI6yUDU3I-fqITf2TalgGoEujI5Rja6wgNKvBLI6Sn3WxqEgvfd9woDyXM/s400/DSC03568.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a><br />
Two initials entitled to be yours, forever...M.J.</div></div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-3285486358424846362010-03-07T17:34:00.000-08:002011-05-26T14:55:13.180-07:00Our very own 'Super-Villain'!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Preface</span><br />
I like those serious comic book superhero descriptions; the ones in which they furiously and immaculately write about the character’s origin and powers as if he was one of the possible candidates to run for their country’s presidency. For example...<br />
<a href="http://www.marveldirectory.com/individuals/s/storm.htm"><span style="font-style: italic;">http://www.marveldirectory.com/individuals/s/storm.htm</span></a><br />
<br />
I’m just gonna take a crack at this style of writing, and hope it works.<br />
(<span style="font-style: italic;">Note</span>: The character in the following story is almost purely non-fictional. Any resemblance to anyone else other than the person I’m intending to is god-forbiddingly coincidental, ‘cos trust me, two of them are as good as the world’s end! Facts given below are only 99.9% true, the 0.1% spice being the super-villain tag)<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">NAME</span>: The Wailing Banshee<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">ALIAS</span> (Real Name): Anonymous<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">AGE</span>: 21 (Birth certificate-wise…mentally about 20 years younger)<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">HEIGHT</span>: Not much<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">WEIGHT</span>: Probably 50-60 kilos<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">APPEARANCE</span>: Dreary looks, dreary face, dreary eyes, dreary everything.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">COSTUME</span>: Wears jeans 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. Rumoured to having been born with it. And he possesses only 2 pairs of them. And for the extra day in the leap year, he wears a lungi.<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">BIO</span>:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Origin is unknown. Legend has it that when he was born, he was the reason why the clan of white storks that once delivered new-born babies in baskets stopped their service for humanity. He consistently grumbled about being delivered in an aeroplane rather than being carried by these stupid creatures, and wanted to be born in a much-cooler planet, like Kryptonite. The stork couldn’t take it anymore and dropped him off at Trivandrum. He was actually destined for the Andamans.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">EVOLUTION</span>:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">He was said to have led a normal life until the 2nd grade, when his math teacher introduced him to the negative ‘-‘ sign. He never used the plus sign since; he always expressed it as a minus of a minus. He derived immense power from it; the truth is as he tread, life around him began to lose colour. He frequented temple visits just to see an ocean of foreheads sandal-pasted with minus sign. Negative was the only aspect he saw; this continued until he went berserk. His brain was interjected with the belief that the grass is always greener on the side that he never was. Also he ran into the delusion that the forces of nature are all working in collaboration against his survival. He then proclaimed “With the advent of me, this world is going to be devoid of all its positivity, I am…the Wailing Banshee!”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><span style="font-weight: bold;">POWERS</span>:<br />
1) <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Negative Energy Plasmoids</span>: Ability to blast negative energy plasmas with consequences as lethal as brain damage.<br />
2) <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Positive Energy Vacuum-Clean-ability</span>: Can suck out all possible positive energy - any ounce of bliss in a person, leaving him with minimal options such as jumping off a cliff or driving a knife into oneself.<br />
3) <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Negative Energy Imbibe-ability</span>: Can absorb all the negative energy there is in the world; this increases the power of his plasmoids. His life is a never-ending fight to beat everyone else’s depression. So as a precaution, people, never look remotely unhappy, even if you broke up, or your parents broke up.<br />
4) <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Super-stench</span>: This is how his hide-out’s perfectly insulated (or quarantined!).<br />
5)<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> Cross-dimensional Awareness:</span> He knows what everyone is doing anytime, anywhere. His movement is so stealthy that he inspects you for 10 seconds and then vanishes at once by camouflaging his shadow. You are left wondering,”Was anyone here with me right now?”<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">STRENGTHS</span>:<br />
1) <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Intelligence</span>: This is showcased in two ways;<br />
a) <span style="font-style: italic;">Resourcefulness</span>: Drying underwear on the UPS.<br />
b) <span style="font-style: italic;">Non-existence of actual Photo Identity</span>: All databases in the world may contain information about him, but sadly they possess his wrong photograph. He achieves this remarkable feat by tirelessly ‘photoshop’ing himself in his every existing picture (Experts claim he increases the ‘fairness’, 'brightness' and 'contrast' features).<br />
2) <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Ultra-pessimism</span>: Ever read funny quotes about pessimists and optimists? Here’s one hilarious one; <a href="http://www.quotegarden.com/optimism.html"><span style="font-style: italic;">http://www.quotegarden.com/optimism.html</span></a><br />
In his context, I will define ultra-pessimism.<br />
“An optimist sees the doughnut, a pessimist sees the hole.” [Oscar Wilde]<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Me</span>: An ultra-pessimist won’t allow anyone to eat it!<br />
3) <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Super-insomnia</span>: Saves his sleep throughout the semester for his villainous ventures, only to slumber during the exams. Has been reportedly sighted several times sleep-walking at 4 a.m., in his lungi and shirtless.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">LIMITATIONS</span>:<br />
1)<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> Placebo effect</span>: Easily gullible. Take an empty and labeled brandy bottle, fill it with coke and offer him that. He will get sloshed in minutes merely thinking it is brandy flowing down his throat.<br />
2) OMG…that’s it!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">HOW HE KEEPS HIS NEGATIVE ENERGY LEVEL IN CHECK</span>:<br />
1) He will discuss the answers to all the questions after an exam, secretly wanting each and every answer of his to go wrong, so that he could plunge into the sea of despair after that.<br />
2) Won’t allow any source of happiness to overcome him. For instance, when he got placed in an IT company, the joy was only an impulse function. The very next day he whined about how the company was gonna overwork him, and that he didn’t have to bear through NIT to get this job!<br />
3) The preeminent of all; Take the most serene part of his life, when he’s got nothing be worried about…he will make sure that he’s depressed – due to the fact that he’s got no reason to be depressed about!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Epilogue</span><br />
Many a superhero has failed against him; after confronting him, Batman sold Wayne Enterprises and is now leading an isolated life of a monk. The CBI is perplexed; the suicide rates are increasing, and they don't have any leads yet. The Oracle predicts that one girl will eventually stand up for all mankind, and subjugate his evil powers by love. Who is she? The search is on.</div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-61385890487637493212010-02-18T08:25:00.000-08:002011-04-19T15:38:48.217-07:00Lost in translation...literally!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I thought this one might become a blog for a limited audience...the 'Febin George' fans...but then I realized the humour is for all to hear! So in a nutty nutshell, this one's about Febin George's translating anecdotes.<br />
<div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br />
First of all, lemme introduce the protagonist. Febin George a.k.a Kudiyan is one fun guy and a revered example of a person who falls in the 'Say crap with confidence' category. The very name 'Kudiyan' actually refers t</span><span style="font-size: 100%;">o a drunkard in Malayalam...but this didn't come into existence for his boozing abilities, it is because of the fact that anything he utters sounds like one! Now his love for the language Hindi is so profound that although he doesn't understand a word, he assumes he knows it all!<br />
<br />
Second of all, these incidents took place in our ever-memorable trip to Goa. The trip in a few words; 11 guys, 6 'Activa's, 3 days, 4 beaches, 2 forts, 2 churches and insanely lovely nights with the unforgettable ambience of live music and cheap alcohol! And Goa in a sentence..."It's a place where foreigners go to see and we go to see...them!"<br />
</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br />
Third of all, well nothing...here goes:<br />
<br />
1) <span style="font-style: italic;">The 'Jaldi' Incident</span><br />
<br />
One fine morning we entered a rath</span><span style="font-size: 100%;">er busy restaurant for breakfast. They had only puris and vadas, and they were taking loads of time to cater to even a single table. Since 70% of the customers were teenage gals, we thought to pardon our tight schedule. As we figured new techniques to catch glimpses of them, we cursed our parents for not settling here as somehow our childhoods felt so dry! Going off topic here...so all except Sabu gets breakfast. After having our 'fill', all of us went to wash our hands. So Kudiyan saw an alone Sabu and noticed Arun asking the waiter "Bhai, jaldi laao..." Perturbed by the time we were losing, Kudiyan retorted,"Why couldn't he order puris or vadas,eh? Why does he want to eat 'jaldi' all of a sudden?"<br />
<br />
2) Enquiry #1 : <span style="font-style: italic;">How to get to Old Goa?</span><br />
<br />
We were equipped with a map and 6 Activas(couldn't get bikes or cars as they were out of stock) for transport. And as the map had fooled us earlier and couldn't be trusted, we made it a point to ask passers-by at every interval. So me and Kudiyan stopped before an unsuspecting individual (let's call him Alpha) and this is how the conversation elapsed...<br />
</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> Baaai!!(alpha wonders if he l</span><span style="font-size: 100%;">ooked like some maid to him) Yeay Old Goa Panaji kaisa jaay...(looks back at me and asks whether 'jaaonga' or 'jaayenge' was correct. I was amused by his belief that everything else he said was perfect!)<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Alpha:</span> ?<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> Yeay...(points down) kaunsa hey? (Thing is he wanted to ask which place it was but he wasn't getting the Hindi word for place...)<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Alpha:</span> ???<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud: </span>You try to make him understand.<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Me:</span> Bhai ye jagah....(Kudiyan cuts me off getting the desired word...it was my mistake to even think that he had accepted defeat!)<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> Aaa...baaai...jaga jaga jaga!<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Alpha:</span> Yeh junction hai. Idhar se left maaro toh Vasco jaayega. Straight jaayega toh ek aur junction hoga...tum log left math jaana, left toh Panaji hai aur Old Goa seedha jaana hai...<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud: </span>(Claps his hands thereby establishing his comprehension of the entire dialogue) Thank you baai! (Takes a turn to go back to the others) All sorted out! We can go to Old Goa only through Panaji! (How he came up with that is beyond my comprehensi</span><span style="font-size: 100%;">on!)<br />
</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br />
3) Enquiry #2: <span style="font-style: italic;">Should we take a bus or a taxi?</span><br />
<br />
This took place at a bus stop when we were wondering to get to Colva Beach via bus or taxi, since both cost the same. So Kudiyan asked another one (let's call him Beta) where the taxi stand was.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> Taxi kahaa?<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Beta</span>: Taxi(p</span><span style="font-size: 100%;">oints somewhere) idhar milta hai. Tum toh gyaarah log hai na, sirf do taxi lo, ek mein aat jaayega, baaki doosre taxi mein peeche-peeche aayega. Same rates hai.<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> (turns to us) He is saying that if we take taxi, first eight will go, then the rest three will have to wait until their taxi is filled by five others, then only it will leave. But the rates are same! (Again, beyond my head. But last time he summarized a dialogue, this time he had the nerve to add stuff of his own! Luckily Arjun heard it, no wait...we would have reconfirmed anyway!)<br />
<br />
4) <span style="font-style: italic;">Guessing the road to the highway (Click on image to enlarge!)</span><br />
<br />
I don't know how to explain this by mere words, so I have painstakingly used 'Paint' to draw a description of the area. So at point A, we took the road to B, where a beautiful temple was located</span><span style="font-size: 100%;">. We spent some time there and continued our journey north, looking at the industrial buildings as we sped by. When we reached point C, Kudiyan confidently took a right and zoomed our Activa ahead. The others looked <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrj5pC2kVDg114cJ9LlU1KFhWx-iKeifRlFyQBx-K5N5yoBQ9btyP_ZHOZyUddfYwVMw8yokoazEQgFVbhsKvF7B6PZ6pD0xftmg7LF4ndgJ-Xq8dPO9VVnF62jT6OhaTuXlprJkIKouw/s1600-h/Untitled.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439622018293838626" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrj5pC2kVDg114cJ9LlU1KFhWx-iKeifRlFyQBx-K5N5yoBQ9btyP_ZHOZyUddfYwVMw8yokoazEQgFVbhsKvF7B6PZ6pD0xftmg7LF4ndgJ-Xq8dPO9VVnF62jT6OhaTuXlprJkIKouw/s320/Untitled.png" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 297px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 422px;" /></a></span><span style="font-size: 100%;">on, wondering if there was any change in plan. Sitting behind him...<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Me</span>: Eda, where are you going? Isn't the highway the opposite way?<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> No, I'm definite it's this way!<br />
(The others started honking. He stopped and got out of the Activa.)<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Me:</span> (easily confused)Eh? Isn't it obvious? What makes you say so?<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> Can't you see these white stripes? They are 'going' this way! (It seemed that to him the stripes were invisibly pointing towards the right direction, and only he had the magical powers to perceive it!)<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Me</span>: %$#$$%%#!!! (Wanted to ask what if we looked at the stripes in the other way, but I declined, since I knew he would reply that the stripes were 'coming' towards us!)<br />
<br />
5)<span style="font-style: italic;"> Kudiyan's classic art of dealing</span><br />
<br />
Kudiyan loses his 70 rupee Roy-Bean shades (It's an irony when a good is duplicated and they don't duplicate the brand name. Instead they co</span><span style="font-size: 100%;">me up with such killer alternative names!). So he is in dire need of a new and cheaper one. We notice a small stand of shades on the way and stop by. A 10-year old girl approaches us. Let's call her Gamma.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> (Takes one) Yeay kitna?<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Gamma:</span> Ek sau pachas.<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Me:</span> It's 150 man(Just to be sure he doesn't interpret it as Rs.10).<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> I understood that man. Isn't 50 pachas?<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Me:</span> Yea.<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> Pachas doonga.<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Gamma:</span> (In tiny c</span><span style="font-size: 100%;">ontinuous squeals) Nahi nahi nahi...<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> Okay okay...(Looks around fearing her dad who might have beaten him up for making her cry) 60 doonga, final(As you guessed, he didn't know numbers in Hindi other than pachas and ek, do, theen...luckily the girl knew English!)<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Gamma: </span>Nahi nahi nahi...<br />
(Now me and Sabu take another two, so that we could get a big discount for purchasing three.)<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> Abhi 150 doonga.<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Gamma:</span> (Again) Nahi nahi nahi...300 last...<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> 155.<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Gamma:</span> 290.<br />
(Then a series of increments and decrements follow...for every 5 rupees Kudiyan raises, she reduces her price by 10! This goes on for a while until...)<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud: </span>180. Only 180. Fixed okay?<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Gamma:</span> 200 dona.<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> No 180 only.<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Gamma</span>: 190?<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> No. Yeay 200 rupees. 20 rupees baaki.<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Gamma:</span> Dus wapas doonga.<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> Okay, deal!<br />
(She goes in to bring the change.)<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Me:</span> You are giving 190?<br />
</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> No, didn't you hear? I fixed it for 180.<br />
Me: And you nodded when she said she will return only 10?<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> Dammit, she said 10? Quickly...what's the Hindi for 20?<br />
Me: (chuckling) Bees.<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Kud:</span> Bees Bees Bees! Bees do!!<br />
<br />
I end the blog with a pic of the shades we finally procured...<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24pmvK0KTuujR-0C9vbo6G_rIm9vg4qxC69Zfzs9cBW96Jt6Lrp8owC4ct0i3txE0eSydU2qJE6PmF_Jlt9MxDfc0zNdpIzuyDA4R0iy_WDcyUBF5KKeGmriFfRa6yy1kDQbDgzPBqx9Z/s1600-h/IMG_1237.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439623354828473634" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24pmvK0KTuujR-0C9vbo6G_rIm9vg4qxC69Zfzs9cBW96Jt6Lrp8owC4ct0i3txE0eSydU2qJE6PmF_Jlt9MxDfc0zNdpIzuyDA4R0iy_WDcyUBF5KKeGmriFfRa6yy1kDQbDgzPBqx9Z/s320/IMG_1237.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a>The one riding is Kudiyan, and it gives me great pleasure to inform you all he's been placed in 'Sony' today...congrats man!!!<br />
</span></div></div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-72053818943596378092010-01-14T00:17:00.000-08:002011-04-19T15:41:28.147-07:00The Mosquito Offensive – Boogeymen in the Loo!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%;">Ever thought twice before taking a pot (or in formal English, excreting!), simply due to fear?<br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-size: 100%;">The criterion for choosing the loo has changed. Now it depends on how infested the loo is…with mosquitoes. The process of choosing starts by sneaking through the door and looking at the white vitreous china covered with several black spots, like bombs in a mine field…one slight disturbance and they all blow up!<br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-size: 100%;">There are various classifications of people – one of them being those who aren’t affected by a mosquito bite, and those who get big blotches on their skin after they quench their thirst, like me. People like me just rub it slowly to ease the irritation. But in the loo, the level of disgust is so high that after a bite, you would rather leave the area untouched, grit your teeth and gulp down the pain.<br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-size: 100%;">If you might have noticed, the guys in our hostels have stronger abs than before. This ain’t because of some anti-obese or morning exercise revolution in the college, rather it’s due to the immense pressure they apply in the abdomen area to finish their ablution off as soon as humanly possible! The pressure once purely abdominal has become mental too!<br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Remember those days when the loo was the ideal place for bathroom singers to improve their rhythm or whistle their breaths out, while for others, to finish their morning paper or Archie comics? Sadly, it’s all changed now. The mosquitoes are an intelligent breed now. They know our weakness posture, they have realized our moment of utter helplessness when they can swoop down and bite our backs and bottoms, with blood gushing easily due to the strain on our legs.<br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Therefore I believe in evolution. With Goodknights and All-Outs and electronic rackets undermining their resistance and existence, they have shifted their roles – from night draculas to morning assailants, as well as their battleground – from the bedroom to the bathroom. What an ingenious method of assault with almost zero chance of losing lives…how the hell did they come know that we wouldn’t dare to kill them by merely imagining where they had been resting before?<br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-size: 100%;">It’s indeed strange that our hostels, literally being one of the most hygienic in the south (thanks a great deal to the red-uniformed cleaners for that!) could become prey to their breeding grounds. Newer techniques must be created to repel them, like a compulsory socket for All-out in every toilet, or more ambitiously, a centralized mosquito repellant system! What am I kidding…my historic hostel hasn’t changed one bit in the past 50 years (the same old sockets, door and bedstand!). Actually breeding dragonflies is enough (someone should!), for they feed on mosquito larvae. I don’t know about others, but frankly, as a way devised to decrease the frequency of their bites, I now use my towel to beat around my back! </span></div></div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-61628352949710157342009-12-02T00:39:00.000-08:002011-04-19T15:43:29.896-07:00What’s in a name?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">[P.S. I sincerely apologize to those who might be offended by the following blog…and will remove it as soon as I get my first threat, for I admit, it’s gonna be sliiiiightly racist…]<br />
<br />
Here are some Sri Lankan cricketers;<br />
Uda Walawwe Mahim Bandaralage Chanaka Asanga Welegedara,<br />
Warnakulasuriya Patabendige Ushantha Joseph Chaminda Vaas,<br />
Herath Mudiyanselage Rangana Keerthi Bandara Herath,<br />
Rupasinghe Jayawardene Mudiyanselage Gihan Madushanka Rupasinghe,<br />
Hewasandatchige Asiri Prasanna Wishvanath Jayawardene…<br />
<br />
[Kudos to the ‘Copy & Paste’ command! And cricinfo.com!]<br />
I purposely put a comma in between so you guys won’t confuse it as one elongated name. Now, why do names have to be this loooong?! Okay, I can understand to a certain extent…like mine’s not short either…but it ain’t 55 letters!<br />
<br />
I don’t know if there’s a similar practice followed in other cultures whether people are “blessed” with painstakingly-stretched names…but since I watch cricket and amongst all cricketers, it’s the Lankans who beat everyone’s asses in the name game.<br />
<br />
It’s the Sinhalese tradition to inherit one’s name from the parents, caste, district, village...and the real name! Coming to think what game the ancestors had in mind…they might have been like “Look guys, I don’t want any name repeated. Let’s introduce this inheriting system for making sure everyone’s unique!” And those cunning dudes probably had names like Jose or Peter!<br />
<br />
Never mind the weirdness of the anti-brevity, but this also causes problems. Sri Lankan names actually caused computers at Italian Immigration Offices to break down, seriously! Don’t trust me? Feel enlightened by clicking below;<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.lankanewspapers.com/news/2007/12/22962.html">http://www.lankanewspapers.com/news/2007/12/22962.html</a><br />
<br />
And after hearing about C.A.T severs breaking down in several major cities in our country…Lankans might be using supercomputers everywhere! Be it schools, hospitals, banks!! <br />
<br />
Because of this aspect, you could start a whole new race of racist jokes…like Sardarji or Sasi jokes…the Lankan jokes. Here are some I cooked up in past 15 minutes;<br />
<br />
1) Sri Lankan mother ,”Son, why didn’t you write anything in the Board exams?”<br />
Son ,”Mom, they insisted on writing full name in the answer paper!”<br />
<br />
2) How does a suspicious Sri Lankan get questioned by an anti-terrorist squad?<br />
“Spell out your name now!! Fast!!!”<br />
<br />
3) How does a Sri Lankan sign?<br />
He simply writes his initials!<br />
<br />
4) Why do Lankan theatres show only one movie a day?<br />
‘Coz though the movie is 2 hours long, the credits never seem to end!<br />
<br />
5) What would a Lankan remake of ‘Raju Ban Gaya Gentleman’, or ‘Neal N’ Nikki’, be renamed as?<br />
That’s left to you guyz!<br />
<br />
6) What’s the most tedious profession in Sri Lanka?<br />
Person who takes the census!<br />
<br />
7) Who have the thickest passports in the world? (Including parents’ names!)<br />
Guess!<br />
<br />
8) Think of all the certificates (resumes, driver’s license, birth) you need full names, the Lankans will have 2 sheets of each! <br />
<br />
9) Think when a baby is born to couple of mathematicians, their conversation will go like, “Hubby, if it’s a boy, let’s name him ∫(-∞ to 0)JWHPCL… , or if it’s a girl….” Or it could be “Honey, can you help me with this permutation and combination problem? I was trying to find a set of initials, but the calculator crashed after 26C10!”<br />
<br />
10) There’s this Hindu tradition of whispering the baby’s name into his ears. What if a Sri Lankan followed that tradition? A Sri-Lankan baby to another who had just been named ,”What was that prayer my grand dad just whispered into my ears?” “That wasn’t a prayer dumbass, that was your freaking name!”<br />
<br />
11) What’s the usual imposition for a Lankan student?<br />
Write your name 50 times!<br />
What if he repeats the mistake?<br />
Write your parents’ names too!<br />
<br />
12) Sri Lankan fairy-tales are like character novels, and character novels are like epics!<br />
<br />
13) Think of a dramatic ending to a Sri Lankan movie, where the hero dies halfway through his final dialogue while citing names!<br />
<br />
14) A Sri Lankan’s nickname would be his actual name! [Hey…this is fact!]<br />
<br />
15) A Sri Lankan filling a sample form;<br />
Name : (blah...blah… saga)<br />
Address : given above!<br />
Parents’ names : also given above!<br />
Hmmm….this is actually economical ink-wise….you could save space on a postcard you know…like just address it to the name!<br />
<br />
Oh man…15 minutes and 15 PJ’s...that’s like PJ-a-minute! C’mon, you must have come up with a few yourself by now…chip in!!<br />
<br />
Sreesanth n’ Bhajji kickin’ som Lankan ass now(188/4)…adios!</div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-61099624209784640472009-11-30T11:17:00.000-08:002009-11-30T11:38:12.179-08:00One depressed mind…leaving a hundred minds depressed<equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> 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0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:1; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:0 0 0 0 0 0;} @font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-520092929 1073786111 9 0 415 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoPapDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; margin-bottom:10.0pt; line-height:115%;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">26 November 2009, one of our college mates committed suicide…something that was unthoughtful, unnecessary, and above all…something that could have been easily avoided, needless to say.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The news reached us the next morning, leaving us utterly shocked at his act. Suicide wasn’t the word that occurred to us…whoever knew him were convinced that it was an accident…or even murder…only if it wasn’t for the note he left behind.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The usual game of rumours started, and at the end of the day, academic depression was the answer to satisfy the question “Why the hell did he do it?” But again, we aren’t willing to accept that he was that weak at heart, nor that he was too strong to do such a thing, and that too, at the gravity at which he had done.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I was fortunate to know him because he belonged to my club…and it just took minutes to bond with him. He was talented, fun, heart-warming, innocent…a valuable asset. Though being two years senior to him, he left a significant gash on me…and I decline to even think of the impact he left on his colleagues, and parents.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">He did speak of his unlucky tales; attendance shortage, low marks…but he simply passed off everything with a smile…I never would have come close to thinking how much pain he hid beneath that expression…I was grossly misled. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">He is nothing now but simply a thought…an evanescent thought…which time will slowly corrode from our hearts. “Out of sight, out of mind”…a phrase I hate because it speaks out its meaning so bluntly, yet it’s true.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But the question that will continue to nag me is why he (a person so conversational) didn’t get personal with anyone. Was his ego so strong that he was led to believe that speaking out his damaged feelings would actually reflect on him as a feeble person? Many people do not seek to share their depression because they believe that it is the result of a personal weakness or character blemish. This is simply not f**king true. Guys, all I want to say is that whatever emotional aspect you have, treat it not by locking it in your head, brooding over it and amassing needless tension…attend to it with your friend’s help…the burden will reduce and you will be able to think straight again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And Aryan...<br />We miss you da.</p>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284045735410779442.post-63806926630275280902009-10-28T14:06:00.000-07:002011-04-19T15:48:48.277-07:00The Beauty of Glory Personification!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">This was just a passing thought when I got out after watching 'Kerala Varma Pazhassi Raja', starring the all-time Mammooty, written by M.T. Vasudevan Nair. According to me, the movie, though a trifle long, was definitely worth-a-watch...something new, different and entertaining (finally!) from Mollywood. The budget of the movie was sound in its every scene, plus the performances from Sarath Kumar, Manoj K.Jayan, Suresh Krishnan and Padmapriya were simply memorable. The 'chuttuval' scene was incredible. And bravo for Resul too.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Enough said about the movie, now about the thought that passed (before it completely passes out!). Many ought know about Pazhassi Raja being the sole resistance to the British tyranny. But there's no definite story about how he died...some accounts say he was wounded in the war with Thomas Baber (when his men surrounded him), others say he committed suicide by swallowing the crystal in his ring, thus refusing to surrender to British Rule (this I read in Amar-Chitra-Katha: Freedom Fighters!).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Anyways, now since the movie's out, the image of the Pazhassi prince has been renewed with vigour...the majestic looks of Mammooty, extreme martial abilities and fearless valour (especially the scene when he single-handedly strikes back following Chandu's death!). Not only he, let it be any character whose myth survived the ages, only looking for a script and a producer to be sculpted into a movie...they have been glorified to an extent which even they, looking down from the heavens above, will be wondering, "Damn! Wish I'd been so cool!!!". I mean, wouldn't it be awesome for yourself to be remembered for something you weren't actually responsible for, or for capabilties you didn't actually possess? I'm not saying Pazhassi Raja wasn't a great warrior, mind you! But being the best of his kind? Could or couldn't have been...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">It's just being born at the right place and at the right time...in this case at a time before the 1800's(!), when historical accounts lose their accuracy. Definitely in this age, it's impossible to pass out with an achievement that isn't truly yours...with scores of organizations ready to test its authenticity, and multitudinous others ready to sue you with plagiarism laws. You have to be what you embody!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">For a good read on Pazhassi, check the following blog;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-style: italic;"><a href="http://malabardays.blogspot.com/2007/08/thomas-babers-account-of-end-of-pyche_12.html">http://malabardays.blogspot.com/2007/08/thomas-babers-account-of-end-of-pyche_12.html</a></span></div>/-\ D I D /-\ $ I-Ihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698518856033757038noreply@blogger.com0