According to Scott Adams if we were to “connect citizens in different countries at such a high rate it would be politically impossible for the two countries to start a war.”
What an idea! We could all make an email pen pal in "the neighboring country" (NC) and ensure that the two countries who share a lot in common like Shah Rukh Khan and Madhuri Dixit, never go to war!
So I went right ahead folks and made my very first pen pal from the Neighboring Country!!
Dear Neighboring Country Pen Pal (NPP)
How are you! I am fine by the grace of my amma. It is so nice to have a pen pal from NC! I don’t know much about your country. But I hope together, we will discover the great cultures of our country.
Regards,
Silverine
--------------------------------------------------------
Dear Silverine,
What a pleasant surprise!! You are my first pen pal from India too. Although I did try to *censored* before, but it was *censored*. I am also hoping and praying that *censored**censored**censored*. Besides we have so much in common like *censored*. But I really like Indian *censored**censored**censored*and *censored**censored*.
Warm regards
NPP
City: *censored*
--------------------------------------------------------
Dear NPP,
I finally have my very first reply from a friend in NC!!! I am so happy. My friends say "Hi”. My boss wants to know if you get daaru in NC and if so what is the rate of Jack Daniels. My Big Boss wants to know if you will marry me and take me off his hands. He jests heh heh. Funny man he is. But he says he will pay for the wedding.
Regards,
Silverine
--------------------------------------------------------
Dear Silverine,
I am so happy to see your reply and the great interest among my new Indian friends about my country. Please tell your boss that *censored* costs *censored* here and we can always arrange to have it sent across the border via *censored*.
p.s if you see too many “censored” in my mail do let me know. I will have to try and send you mails via pigeons.
Regards,
NPP
Mail Admin: General Mush Rough! Please note mail intercepted by our alert and patriotic Mail Filters!
Re: Shoot down all pigeons going into India.
--------------------------------------------------------
Dear NPP,
Thank you for the information. Your mail is full of *censored*. What do I do?
Regards
Silverine
--------------------------------------------------------
Dear Silverine,
What the *censored*!!!!!
Mail Admin: What the hell is ‘fcuk’?
Re: *censored*
Mail Admin: :(
--------------------------------------------------------
Dear NPP,
I am afraid I didn’t understand your mail. There seems to be a serious miscommunication between us. But I guess these are early days for us. We will eventually understand each others language. So take heart and keep mailing. In the meantime here is a small article on the History of India.
Sincerely,
Silverine
Mail Admin: Caution!! Subject is talking of a “miscommunication”. I sense covert transmission. Advised further sustained surveillance.
Re: Don’t shoot our Pigeons you moron!!!
--------------------------------------------------------
Dear Silverine,
Your post was very informative. Thank you. I am greatly suffering to hear about the sufferings of Indian school children. We are suffering too. But with a different suffering called *censored*.
Regards
NPP
Mail Admin: Nice list of places.
Re: They are not Night Clubs you dunce!! Now get back to work!
--------------------------------------------------------
Dear NPP,
Please tell me about your cuisine. I have attached a recipe for Curd Rice, a delicacy in South India for you to try out.
Regards
Silverine
Mail Admin: Red Alert! Subject has sent some recipe in the attachment. Handle with care!!
p.s This stuff tastes yuck!
Re: You are not supposed to taste it you idiot! It might explode in your mouth.
Mail Admin: It just did. I think my taste buds are dead.
Re: Re: Re: @#%&#$!!!!
Mail Admin: :(
--------------------------------------------------------
Dear Silverine,
Thank you for the recipe. The attachment was missing though. Attached is a recipe from my Mother.
p.s do you have pigeons?
Regards,
NPP
Mail Admin: General, this seems to be a harmless recipe for Pigeon fry!
Re: How do you know? Did you check?
Mail Admin: Oops!
Re:Re: Idiot!!!!
--------------------------------------------------------
Dear NPP,
Thank you for the delicious recipe. It was yummy! My mother says “Thank you!” and she says that she would love to have you and your family visit us when you come to India.
Regards
Silverine
--------------------------------------------------------
Dear Silverine,
Thank you so much! We will definitely visit India and meet up with you and your family. I will start packing the Pigeons right away.
Regards,
NPP
Mail Admin: Red Alert! NPP is fleeing to India!! I am sure he is fleeing with our Nuclear Secrets!
Re: Over my dead body!!! I am going to launch the nuclear bomb!! First strike will be ours by Gods grace!!!!! Stand back everyone!!
Re: Re: @#&% Chinese triggers!!!!!!!
--------------------------------------------------------
As you can see dear friends, increased people-to-people contact is the only way we can expedite the Indo-NC peace process. So I urge all of you to get yourself pen pals from our neighboring country and aid peace in this region!
Thank you!
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Surviving the wonder years!
I am planning on writing a book on guys. No, no... it is not a book on 'how to snare guys and keep him in 10 steps' kinda books. But the kind of book that makes a guy less of an alien to girls.
I grew up in a house infested with guys. That was two batches of friends of my two brothers and some gate crashers. Till today we have no clue as to who the gate crashers were. In fact we came to know of this phenomenon at a family dinner the other day.
Dad: And Suman...it must be almost 20 years since you met G (eldest bro) right?
Suman: Yes! But I am not his friend.
Dad: Then you must be M’s ( second bro) friend.
Suman: No.
Dad: hmmm then how do we know you?
Suman: I was walking by your house one day and saw your dog. I stopped by to pet him and aunty came and made me wash my hands and sit for dinner. Since then I come here regularly.
Dad: Ah! Some more chicken son?
We had boys all around us. In fact I am sure I saw one of my brother’s friends when I first came into this world.
"Uncle come see what came out of aunty’s stomach!!"
Ha ha I am kidding, but I am sure my Dad would have rushed to the hospital with at least a dozen boys in tow as leaving them in the house would be more destructive than leaving a running unmanned bulldozer in the house. And people who would have noticed a man rushing into the maternity ward with several small boys in tow, would have shaken their heads in exasperation and pointed their fingers at my Dad as an outstanding example of the failure of the country’s Family Planning policies.
If there was an Earthquake in Bangalore, most people would grab their two kids and run out of the house. My folks had it a little more difficult than others. They would have to look under the beds (sulking boys), water tank (chilling out boys), garage (taking the car apart but dunno how to put it back boys) kitchen (snacking boys), kitchen cabinets (collecting cockroaches boys) kennel (teasing the dogs boys) Outhouse (sneakily trying out cigarettes boys) trees (climbed up but dunno how to climb down boys) etc. etc etc etc The only place there were no boys in the house was my room. Most 8 – 12 years olds treat little girls like vermin.
If we were invited for weddings, the card specifically said, Mr & Mrs Philip and “their” kids. People realized soon enough that mentioning the word family would mean that the Philip family would outnumber the guests 1 - 10 out of which 8 people would be very dirty, very unkempt and very uninvited guests! My parents usually attended weddings alone so that one of them could baby sit the house to ensure it is not burnt down by the time they came back from the wedding.
Meal times in my house were interesting. Guys eat only meat! Period. And the ones who didn’t were soon converted with or without their knowledge!
Venu’s mom: What is that thing Venu ate at your house yesterday? I searched the whole vegetable market but no one had Shahi Mussalam!
My mom: err umm it is out of season at the moment. Will let you know when it comes into season.
Venus mom: Ah! Appadiyaa!
Venu's mom waited many seasons in vain and then forgot all about it and blamed her son's subsequent conversion to pure non vegetarianism, to Kalyug!
Side stepping the vegetarian parents and maintaining good parental relations was a task more daunting than ballet dancing on a tight rope!
Mrs Srinivasan: Mrs Philip, what is that bonda you packed for G’s lunch the other day? My son says it was delicious!
Mom (cursing G) : err that is called Potato Kabab!
Mrs Srinivasan: You must give me the recipe!!
Mom: I am so sorry I can’t. It is a secret family recipe handed over from my great grandom you know!
Mrs Srinivasan: I understand! I wouldn’t part with my secret Lemon Rasam recipe either! Heh heh
Mom (nervously): heh heh *whew*
Since corporal punishment was banned in the house via my Dads diktat, my mom had to take her frustrations out on the then cat called Amminikutty!
Mom: I am so mad at those boys. One day I will land in a mental asylum because of them!!!
Amminikutty: *mew*
Mom: How long can I keep side stepping peoples questions!!!
Amminikutty: *mew*
Mom: Soon people will stop talking to us!
Amminikutty: *mew*
Mom (breaking down): I can’t take this anymore!
Amminikutty: *mew*
Mom (brightening up): Thanks Amminikutty! You are such a great help. Here is a piece of fish for you!
Amminikutty: *mew!!!*
Amminikutty died of feline obesity soon after but not before my Mom had learned to better control her feelings with Valium.
There were certain rules in the house for my brothers and their guests. No swearing. Water bottles had to filled up and kept back in the fridge after use, no littering and no troubling their host’s sister and her friends (and thus the cockroaches collected had to be set free).
Dad: Rajesh! How many times have I told you that you that you cannot put Cockroaches in the girls room!!!
Rajesh: But Uncle you told me to release them!!
Dad: You make sense son...so I won’t thrash you! Sigh.
Now having two sets of boys in the house of two different age group had its problems. Especially since the age difference between the two group was three plus years. The elder group members (EGM) considered the younger group members (YGM) essential vermin as they were easy picking as child labor for their various activities. As a result, the younger group earned quite a lot of money in my house, fetching stuff and polishing bicycles and telling lies on their behalf.
YGM to Dad: See I got 50 paise for cleaning Vinods bike!!
Dad: Good! So you must be making fifty paise per bike everyday? You will be a rich boy at the end of the month!!
YGM (proudly): This is my whole month’s salary for cleaning all the bikes!
Dad: $%@&!!
The EGM’s however underestimated their slave’s capacity to hold fort for them.
Dad: Where are the big boys Anil?
Anil: They are studying!
Dad: And what are they studying
Anil: They are studying some girl’s pictures behind the house!
Dad: $%@&!! err I mean thank you!
We girls were also entrusted with special errands by the EGM and made quite a lot of chocolates out of them!
Dev an EGM: Tina, will you give this note to Anita in 8th A tomorrow?
Tina: We are not allowed to go to the High School!
Dev: Please!!! I will give you a Chocolate da!
Tina: Ok!
Next day while Tina and me chomped on the chocolate wondering how we could get past the Primary School gates and reach the High School, Anita walks past!
Tina: Dev gave this for you!
Anita: Thank you! Is he your brother?
Tina: No!
Anita: Then how do you know him?
Tina: We deliver notes for him!
Anita: $%@&!!
Dev spent many a day hoping for a reply and then resigned himself to rejection. This was his 657th rejection and Tina and me became a beacon of sorts for the high school gals…a beacon that says, here comes the girls who deliver notes from losers!
Atul (another EGM): Anju, will you take this note and give it to Sheela in 9th B?
Me: What is this?
Atul: err just some Maths homework!
Next day, while Tina and me chomped on the chocolate wondering how we could get past the Primary School gates and reach the High School, who but Sheela’s Maths teacher walks past! No prizes for guessing what happened next, but Sheela and Atul spent some quality time in detention...alone and the entrepreneurial talents of two budding Courier tycoons was very tactfully, nipped in the bud.
Now with experience this rich and varied, I am sure you will all agree that that my book will be a definite best seller!
I grew up in a house infested with guys. That was two batches of friends of my two brothers and some gate crashers. Till today we have no clue as to who the gate crashers were. In fact we came to know of this phenomenon at a family dinner the other day.
Dad: And Suman...it must be almost 20 years since you met G (eldest bro) right?
Suman: Yes! But I am not his friend.
Dad: Then you must be M’s ( second bro) friend.
Suman: No.
Dad: hmmm then how do we know you?
Suman: I was walking by your house one day and saw your dog. I stopped by to pet him and aunty came and made me wash my hands and sit for dinner. Since then I come here regularly.
Dad: Ah! Some more chicken son?
We had boys all around us. In fact I am sure I saw one of my brother’s friends when I first came into this world.
"Uncle come see what came out of aunty’s stomach!!"
Ha ha I am kidding, but I am sure my Dad would have rushed to the hospital with at least a dozen boys in tow as leaving them in the house would be more destructive than leaving a running unmanned bulldozer in the house. And people who would have noticed a man rushing into the maternity ward with several small boys in tow, would have shaken their heads in exasperation and pointed their fingers at my Dad as an outstanding example of the failure of the country’s Family Planning policies.
If there was an Earthquake in Bangalore, most people would grab their two kids and run out of the house. My folks had it a little more difficult than others. They would have to look under the beds (sulking boys), water tank (chilling out boys), garage (taking the car apart but dunno how to put it back boys) kitchen (snacking boys), kitchen cabinets (collecting cockroaches boys) kennel (teasing the dogs boys) Outhouse (sneakily trying out cigarettes boys) trees (climbed up but dunno how to climb down boys) etc. etc etc etc The only place there were no boys in the house was my room. Most 8 – 12 years olds treat little girls like vermin.
If we were invited for weddings, the card specifically said, Mr & Mrs Philip and “their” kids. People realized soon enough that mentioning the word family would mean that the Philip family would outnumber the guests 1 - 10 out of which 8 people would be very dirty, very unkempt and very uninvited guests! My parents usually attended weddings alone so that one of them could baby sit the house to ensure it is not burnt down by the time they came back from the wedding.
Meal times in my house were interesting. Guys eat only meat! Period. And the ones who didn’t were soon converted with or without their knowledge!
Venu’s mom: What is that thing Venu ate at your house yesterday? I searched the whole vegetable market but no one had Shahi Mussalam!
My mom: err umm it is out of season at the moment. Will let you know when it comes into season.
Venus mom: Ah! Appadiyaa!
Venu's mom waited many seasons in vain and then forgot all about it and blamed her son's subsequent conversion to pure non vegetarianism, to Kalyug!
Side stepping the vegetarian parents and maintaining good parental relations was a task more daunting than ballet dancing on a tight rope!
Mrs Srinivasan: Mrs Philip, what is that bonda you packed for G’s lunch the other day? My son says it was delicious!
Mom (cursing G) : err that is called Potato Kabab!
Mrs Srinivasan: You must give me the recipe!!
Mom: I am so sorry I can’t. It is a secret family recipe handed over from my great grandom you know!
Mrs Srinivasan: I understand! I wouldn’t part with my secret Lemon Rasam recipe either! Heh heh
Mom (nervously): heh heh *whew*
Since corporal punishment was banned in the house via my Dads diktat, my mom had to take her frustrations out on the then cat called Amminikutty!
Mom: I am so mad at those boys. One day I will land in a mental asylum because of them!!!
Amminikutty: *mew*
Mom: How long can I keep side stepping peoples questions!!!
Amminikutty: *mew*
Mom: Soon people will stop talking to us!
Amminikutty: *mew*
Mom (breaking down): I can’t take this anymore!
Amminikutty: *mew*
Mom (brightening up): Thanks Amminikutty! You are such a great help. Here is a piece of fish for you!
Amminikutty: *mew!!!*
Amminikutty died of feline obesity soon after but not before my Mom had learned to better control her feelings with Valium.
There were certain rules in the house for my brothers and their guests. No swearing. Water bottles had to filled up and kept back in the fridge after use, no littering and no troubling their host’s sister and her friends (and thus the cockroaches collected had to be set free).
Dad: Rajesh! How many times have I told you that you that you cannot put Cockroaches in the girls room!!!
Rajesh: But Uncle you told me to release them!!
Dad: You make sense son...so I won’t thrash you! Sigh.
Now having two sets of boys in the house of two different age group had its problems. Especially since the age difference between the two group was three plus years. The elder group members (EGM) considered the younger group members (YGM) essential vermin as they were easy picking as child labor for their various activities. As a result, the younger group earned quite a lot of money in my house, fetching stuff and polishing bicycles and telling lies on their behalf.
YGM to Dad: See I got 50 paise for cleaning Vinods bike!!
Dad: Good! So you must be making fifty paise per bike everyday? You will be a rich boy at the end of the month!!
YGM (proudly): This is my whole month’s salary for cleaning all the bikes!
Dad: $%@&!!
The EGM’s however underestimated their slave’s capacity to hold fort for them.
Dad: Where are the big boys Anil?
Anil: They are studying!
Dad: And what are they studying
Anil: They are studying some girl’s pictures behind the house!
Dad: $%@&!! err I mean thank you!
We girls were also entrusted with special errands by the EGM and made quite a lot of chocolates out of them!
Dev an EGM: Tina, will you give this note to Anita in 8th A tomorrow?
Tina: We are not allowed to go to the High School!
Dev: Please!!! I will give you a Chocolate da!
Tina: Ok!
Next day while Tina and me chomped on the chocolate wondering how we could get past the Primary School gates and reach the High School, Anita walks past!
Tina: Dev gave this for you!
Anita: Thank you! Is he your brother?
Tina: No!
Anita: Then how do you know him?
Tina: We deliver notes for him!
Anita: $%@&!!
Dev spent many a day hoping for a reply and then resigned himself to rejection. This was his 657th rejection and Tina and me became a beacon of sorts for the high school gals…a beacon that says, here comes the girls who deliver notes from losers!
Atul (another EGM): Anju, will you take this note and give it to Sheela in 9th B?
Me: What is this?
Atul: err just some Maths homework!
Next day, while Tina and me chomped on the chocolate wondering how we could get past the Primary School gates and reach the High School, who but Sheela’s Maths teacher walks past! No prizes for guessing what happened next, but Sheela and Atul spent some quality time in detention...alone and the entrepreneurial talents of two budding Courier tycoons was very tactfully, nipped in the bud.
Now with experience this rich and varied, I am sure you will all agree that that my book will be a definite best seller!
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Keep it Short Message Service Stupid
Have you got an SMS asking you to join in a promotional contest by your mobile service providers? You might have got several! According to a Press Release by the Mobile Service Providers Association (MSP), in future the contest questions will be customized to specific regions of India like the South, North, East and the West to keep the contest simple yet challenging.
Here are the contest questions framed for Kerala subscribers which was leaked to us by a BSNL employee.
1. How do you say “Yes” in Hindi?
a. Haan
b. Ha Ha Ha
c. Ho Ho Ho
d. He He He
2. How do you say “Me” in Hindi?
a. Mein
b. Mein aur meri thanhayi
c. Mun Mun Sen
d. Main Khiladi Tu Anadi
3. What is the Hindi word for “You”?
a. Tu
b. Tu Tu Mein Mein
c. Tu meri laila mein tera John Abraham!
d. Hum tum ek kamre mein band ho...hai...hum...err wotever!
4. And what is the Hindi word for “Go” ?
a. Jao
b. Jaagte raho
c. Jaan - e- man
d. Dum maaro Dum
5 What is meaning of the Hindi word “Khaana”?
a. Meal
b. Khana Khazana
c. Khana Peena
d. Kentucky Fried chicken
6. And how do you say “Greetings” in Hindi!
a. Namasthe!
b. Saale!!
c. Kuththe!!!
d. Kameene!!!
According to a top official of the MSP who prefers to remain anonymous, none of the respondents from Kerala got any of the answers right! The last question was later withdrawn when a subscriber argued in court that all the answers to that question were correct.
Reporters who went to popular actor Sohan Pal’s residence to get his views on this debacle were told that the 70 year old actor was away shooting for his new film “Cambuzz” in which he is starring as a 16 years old teenager, in love with his 15 year old junior played by 15 year old actress Sonia. The film is slated to release for the school vacations. The Censor Board are reportedly trying to give this movie an ‘A' certification so that young impressionable minds are not scarred for life after watching it...which according to studies leads to antisocial activities like unionism and communism among kids in later years.
p.s. the correct answer is “A”. Among the mallus who attempted the questions and got all the answers wrong, congratulations! You just proved yourself to be a true blue Malayalee !!
Among the non mallus who attempted this contest and got all the answers wrong, congratulations!! You have just become an honorary South Indian!!!
A sneak preview of a contest question made for North Indian subscribers is given below!
Q. Where is Kerala?
a. Wotzat?
b. Karela? Lemme guess....subzi mandi?
c. Aapke paas do rupiya ka chutta hoga?
d. Chintu bete!! Google and see where is this Ke, Ka, Ki…umm…Madras!!
Here are the contest questions framed for Kerala subscribers which was leaked to us by a BSNL employee.
1. How do you say “Yes” in Hindi?
a. Haan
b. Ha Ha Ha
c. Ho Ho Ho
d. He He He
2. How do you say “Me” in Hindi?
a. Mein
b. Mein aur meri thanhayi
c. Mun Mun Sen
d. Main Khiladi Tu Anadi
3. What is the Hindi word for “You”?
a. Tu
b. Tu Tu Mein Mein
c. Tu meri laila mein tera John Abraham!
d. Hum tum ek kamre mein band ho...hai...hum...err wotever!
4. And what is the Hindi word for “Go” ?
a. Jao
b. Jaagte raho
c. Jaan - e- man
d. Dum maaro Dum
5 What is meaning of the Hindi word “Khaana”?
a. Meal
b. Khana Khazana
c. Khana Peena
d. Kentucky Fried chicken
6. And how do you say “Greetings” in Hindi!
a. Namasthe!
b. Saale!!
c. Kuththe!!!
d. Kameene!!!
According to a top official of the MSP who prefers to remain anonymous, none of the respondents from Kerala got any of the answers right! The last question was later withdrawn when a subscriber argued in court that all the answers to that question were correct.
Reporters who went to popular actor Sohan Pal’s residence to get his views on this debacle were told that the 70 year old actor was away shooting for his new film “Cambuzz” in which he is starring as a 16 years old teenager, in love with his 15 year old junior played by 15 year old actress Sonia. The film is slated to release for the school vacations. The Censor Board are reportedly trying to give this movie an ‘A' certification so that young impressionable minds are not scarred for life after watching it...which according to studies leads to antisocial activities like unionism and communism among kids in later years.
p.s. the correct answer is “A”. Among the mallus who attempted the questions and got all the answers wrong, congratulations! You just proved yourself to be a true blue Malayalee !!
Among the non mallus who attempted this contest and got all the answers wrong, congratulations!! You have just become an honorary South Indian!!!
A sneak preview of a contest question made for North Indian subscribers is given below!
Q. Where is Kerala?
a. Wotzat?
b. Karela? Lemme guess....subzi mandi?
c. Aapke paas do rupiya ka chutta hoga?
d. Chintu bete!! Google and see where is this Ke, Ka, Ki…umm…Madras!!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Agony aunt and an agonising niece!
I work in the marketing section of my company. The floor where I sit is dedicated to various marketing groups. There are about 7 ladies working here in various groups. I am the only unmarried dame here. And as is wont of women, we talk. Ok…we yak. And as the only unmarried gal I am the Agony Aunt for these ladies. Most of them are very sweet and come down for a chat after pinging me to see if I am free. But there is one particular lady who is a different race of womankind altogether. This lady had all the problems in the world and thinks she can come and sit and talk to me for hours even if I am busy. Of course when she is busy she will not even look at you and will mumble a “No” when you ask her if she is joining the female horde going for coffee…characteristically “together”.
However she regularly drops onto my workstation and will go on and on and on about her problems. I tried SMS’ing friends telling them to call me so that I can feign a phone call and get her off my back but to no avail. She will patiently wait for me to finish the conversation and then start off again. If I were a doctor this is how a day in my life would go.
Nurse to me: Doctor!! A patient has been bought in with a bullet wound!
My colleague: Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Me: Prepare the Operation Theater! Quick!!
Colleague: Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Me to Nurse: Scalpel please…
Colleague: Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Nurse: The patient’s heartbeat is slowing down doctor!!
Colleague: Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Me: I am going to revive his heart with electric shock. Everybody stand back!!!
Colleague: Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Nurse: Heart beat still falling Doctor!!
Colleague: Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Me to colleague: err I am kinda busy here!
Colleague: This wont take too long...Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Me to nurse: I am afraid we have lost him!
Colleague: Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Me to relations: I am sorry...we tried our best...but the patient died five minutes ago.
Relations: *wailing*
Colleague: So sad! And Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Me to Nurse: Please see to that they get all possible help with the discharge of the body.
Colleague: Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Relations: *still wailing*
Colleague: Hey!!! Looks like you are free. And so I was saying…. Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Me: *sigh*
When you can't beat 'em why fight 'em right? So lets look at the bright side and...thank god I am not a Doctor!!! *whew*
However she regularly drops onto my workstation and will go on and on and on about her problems. I tried SMS’ing friends telling them to call me so that I can feign a phone call and get her off my back but to no avail. She will patiently wait for me to finish the conversation and then start off again. If I were a doctor this is how a day in my life would go.
Nurse to me: Doctor!! A patient has been bought in with a bullet wound!
My colleague: Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Me: Prepare the Operation Theater! Quick!!
Colleague: Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Me to Nurse: Scalpel please…
Colleague: Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Nurse: The patient’s heartbeat is slowing down doctor!!
Colleague: Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Me: I am going to revive his heart with electric shock. Everybody stand back!!!
Colleague: Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Nurse: Heart beat still falling Doctor!!
Colleague: Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Me to colleague: err I am kinda busy here!
Colleague: This wont take too long...Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Me to nurse: I am afraid we have lost him!
Colleague: Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Me to relations: I am sorry...we tried our best...but the patient died five minutes ago.
Relations: *wailing*
Colleague: So sad! And Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Me to Nurse: Please see to that they get all possible help with the discharge of the body.
Colleague: Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Relations: *still wailing*
Colleague: Hey!!! Looks like you are free. And so I was saying…. Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah and Blah.
Me: *sigh*
When you can't beat 'em why fight 'em right? So lets look at the bright side and...thank god I am not a Doctor!!! *whew*
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Easter wisdom
Happy Easter everyone!!!! And to those who don’t celebrate, wishing you a rocking Sunday!!! I am in good old Gods Own Country Bar and Liquor Shop a.k.a Kerala for Easter. The weather is fine, the men are not err I mean most of them above the age of 18 are in various stages of recovery from alcohol abuse after the midnight Easter Mass. Before I go in and help the ladies toiling in the kitchen I thought I will sneak in and wish every one. If I am caught at the lappie, this might be my last Easter according to my amma :(
Anyways…onto my narration. I have been a very bad girl this Easter :( And feeling so happy about it too *GRIN* And why? You didn’t ask but I will tell you anyways. There were quite a few people who dropped in home yesterday for the usual pre Easter mingling. A teenage cousin called up from Mumbai to wish his grand mom and grandpa and upon being told that they were our place called up our house. My brother M picked up the phone. Let’s call this cousin brother Roshan Jacob (actual name).
Roshan: Hello?
M: Hello?
Roshan: Achchachan? (grandpa)
M: Yes!
Roshan: Happy Easter in advance achchacha!!!!
M: Happy Easter mone! God Bless you!
Roshan: Thank you achchacha. So what are plans for Easter?
M: The usual. We are meeting up here for lunch. Your ammachi (grandmother) is making the payasam (kheer). What are you all doing?
Roshan: Everyone is meeting here for lunch. Sanjay and Bobby are down from Dubai and Neils from Singapore. They leave for Kerala on Monday. So I am going party hopping with them tomorrow night.
M: Good! Good! Party safe mone.
Roshan: Awww achchacha. This is Mumbai. It’s quite safe. Besides we are going to our friends houses!
Me: Endhalayum....be careful. Remember the old adage. “Man who fishes in another woman's well, often catches crab.”
Roshan: What!!!
M: So be very careful mone.
Roshan: *gasp* Where did you hear that achchacha!!
M: hmmm I think Sebastian sent this to me by email.
Roshan: That is just a joke achchacha!
M: Joke? I haven’t heard anything wiser in my life!!!! Hmmpphh!
Roshan: But achchacha...
M: If I had got this 50 years ago…err never mind. So tell me, will there be girls at the party?
Roshan: Yes!
M: hmmm remember son, “Virginity like bubble. One prick - all gone”
Roshan: OMG!
M: Hummph don’t tell me you lost it already!!!
Roshan: No achchacha! I haven’t…I mean...
M: Good!! Remember the old saying “Man who wants pretty nurse, must be patient.”
Roshan: Achchacha please don’t take everything Sebastian sends literally. He…
M: What nonsense! I haven’t read anything this wise in years!!
Roshan (quickly): Rohan (younger bro) wants to wish you achchacha.
M: Wait! I haven’t finished yet! A young man like you will face many temptations in life. When you are faced with temptations, remember to say this small prayer “ It takes many a nail to make a crib but one screw to fill it." Amen!
Roshan: *very embarrassed silence*
M (continuing mercilessly): And will you be drinking?
Roshan: No achchacha! I am not yet 18!
M: Ha!! I know you will drink!! Rascal!!
Roshan (hurt): I swear achchacha I won't.
M: Remember the old saying when Satan tempts you, “Do not drink and park, accidents cause people."
Roshan: *squirm* Achchacha please delete mails sent by Seb.
M: Why??? And please speak up mone. I left my hearing aid at home.
Roshan: I SAID, SEB'S MAILS ARE USUALLY DOCTORED.PLEASE TAKE WITH A PINCH OF SALT!
M: Do you have a girl friend?
Roshan: NO!!
M: Good! This is not your age to be having girl friends. There is an old saying "man who lay woman on ground, do not get peace on earth"
Roshan: NO ACHCHACHA, IT IS "MAN WHO LAY WOMAN ON GROUND, GET PIECE ON EARTH" SEB SENT THE MAIL TO ME TOO.
M: Ah! Then you go through it well mone. It is something that every young man must read. I have taken a printout and put it up in the living room.
Roshan: What?? Aiyyyo! Achchacha. Please take it down!!
M: Why? It will be nice to show everyone when they come here tomorrow evening.
Roshan: *groan* I AM GIVING THE PHONE TO MUMMY!
Sound of whispering in the background while M gives the cordless to the real grandfather.
Roshans mom: Hello achcha?
Grandpa: Hello!
Roshans mom: Roshan says that you have stuck some e mail forward in the living room!
Grandpa: Yes I have. Why?
Roshans mom: Well Roshan says it is a joke and not worthy of putting up in the living room.
Grandpa: But it is a nice pencil sketch of Mother Mary made by a Brazilian artist.
Roshan's mom to Roshan: Your grandfather says it is some religious stuff!
Roshan mom to grandpa: Oh! Ok we will call you tomorrow then achcha.
Grandpa: Bye.
I have a feeling that M f#%$ed up a teenagers Easter this year! But what the heck! It was worth a laugh in the house....amongst the group of cousins. The elders...ahem don't know about this or M will be the main course for today’s Easter lunch.
And if you are wondering where I fit into all this…well…I sort of promised Rohan, when he called me frantically that I would sprint across to his Grandfathers house and tear down that non existent paper stuck on the wall ….for a small fee ;) After all this is the season of hope and joy and one mustn’t be too cruel to ones own flesh and blood no?
Have a nice week folks.
Anyways…onto my narration. I have been a very bad girl this Easter :( And feeling so happy about it too *GRIN* And why? You didn’t ask but I will tell you anyways. There were quite a few people who dropped in home yesterday for the usual pre Easter mingling. A teenage cousin called up from Mumbai to wish his grand mom and grandpa and upon being told that they were our place called up our house. My brother M picked up the phone. Let’s call this cousin brother Roshan Jacob (actual name).
Roshan: Hello?
M: Hello?
Roshan: Achchachan? (grandpa)
M: Yes!
Roshan: Happy Easter in advance achchacha!!!!
M: Happy Easter mone! God Bless you!
Roshan: Thank you achchacha. So what are plans for Easter?
M: The usual. We are meeting up here for lunch. Your ammachi (grandmother) is making the payasam (kheer). What are you all doing?
Roshan: Everyone is meeting here for lunch. Sanjay and Bobby are down from Dubai and Neils from Singapore. They leave for Kerala on Monday. So I am going party hopping with them tomorrow night.
M: Good! Good! Party safe mone.
Roshan: Awww achchacha. This is Mumbai. It’s quite safe. Besides we are going to our friends houses!
Me: Endhalayum....be careful. Remember the old adage. “Man who fishes in another woman's well, often catches crab.”
Roshan: What!!!
M: So be very careful mone.
Roshan: *gasp* Where did you hear that achchacha!!
M: hmmm I think Sebastian sent this to me by email.
Roshan: That is just a joke achchacha!
M: Joke? I haven’t heard anything wiser in my life!!!! Hmmpphh!
Roshan: But achchacha...
M: If I had got this 50 years ago…err never mind. So tell me, will there be girls at the party?
Roshan: Yes!
M: hmmm remember son, “Virginity like bubble. One prick - all gone”
Roshan: OMG!
M: Hummph don’t tell me you lost it already!!!
Roshan: No achchacha! I haven’t…I mean...
M: Good!! Remember the old saying “Man who wants pretty nurse, must be patient.”
Roshan: Achchacha please don’t take everything Sebastian sends literally. He…
M: What nonsense! I haven’t read anything this wise in years!!
Roshan (quickly): Rohan (younger bro) wants to wish you achchacha.
M: Wait! I haven’t finished yet! A young man like you will face many temptations in life. When you are faced with temptations, remember to say this small prayer “ It takes many a nail to make a crib but one screw to fill it." Amen!
Roshan: *very embarrassed silence*
M (continuing mercilessly): And will you be drinking?
Roshan: No achchacha! I am not yet 18!
M: Ha!! I know you will drink!! Rascal!!
Roshan (hurt): I swear achchacha I won't.
M: Remember the old saying when Satan tempts you, “Do not drink and park, accidents cause people."
Roshan: *squirm* Achchacha please delete mails sent by Seb.
M: Why??? And please speak up mone. I left my hearing aid at home.
Roshan: I SAID, SEB'S MAILS ARE USUALLY DOCTORED.PLEASE TAKE WITH A PINCH OF SALT!
M: Do you have a girl friend?
Roshan: NO!!
M: Good! This is not your age to be having girl friends. There is an old saying "man who lay woman on ground, do not get peace on earth"
Roshan: NO ACHCHACHA, IT IS "MAN WHO LAY WOMAN ON GROUND, GET PIECE ON EARTH" SEB SENT THE MAIL TO ME TOO.
M: Ah! Then you go through it well mone. It is something that every young man must read. I have taken a printout and put it up in the living room.
Roshan: What?? Aiyyyo! Achchacha. Please take it down!!
M: Why? It will be nice to show everyone when they come here tomorrow evening.
Roshan: *groan* I AM GIVING THE PHONE TO MUMMY!
Sound of whispering in the background while M gives the cordless to the real grandfather.
Roshans mom: Hello achcha?
Grandpa: Hello!
Roshans mom: Roshan says that you have stuck some e mail forward in the living room!
Grandpa: Yes I have. Why?
Roshans mom: Well Roshan says it is a joke and not worthy of putting up in the living room.
Grandpa: But it is a nice pencil sketch of Mother Mary made by a Brazilian artist.
Roshan's mom to Roshan: Your grandfather says it is some religious stuff!
Roshan mom to grandpa: Oh! Ok we will call you tomorrow then achcha.
Grandpa: Bye.
I have a feeling that M f#%$ed up a teenagers Easter this year! But what the heck! It was worth a laugh in the house....amongst the group of cousins. The elders...ahem don't know about this or M will be the main course for today’s Easter lunch.
And if you are wondering where I fit into all this…well…I sort of promised Rohan, when he called me frantically that I would sprint across to his Grandfathers house and tear down that non existent paper stuck on the wall ….for a small fee ;) After all this is the season of hope and joy and one mustn’t be too cruel to ones own flesh and blood no?
Have a nice week folks.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Meeting my makers
Parent Teacher Meetings…the very word brings a flood of warm memories for me…and a flood of harrowing memories for my Mom. I smile happily in reminiscence while she cringes. I loved going for PTA meetings even if my report card and discipline record was the pits. My Dad always accompanied me and he had a healthy disregard for Parent Teacher Meetings (PTA). Like most primary school kids, the villains in my small world were mostly teachers and not ghost and ghouls and Goblins. And like most kids I was convinced that my Dad was a superhero and hence my expectations of him was err...a bit too high.
Dad’s friend: Shall we meet up today for lunch?
Dad: No. I have to go for a PTA meeting.
Friend: That would take about an hour right? You can drop by after that!
Dad: Nopes, My daughter says that I have to meet the Science teacher….
Friend: Well that shouldn’t take more then 10 minutes!
Dad (continuing): …and tell her that she is no good.
Friend: Huh!
Dad: And then I am supposed to meet the English teacher ….
Friend: Ok!
Dad: And tell her she sucks.
Friend: What language!
Dad: And she says I cannot use any other language.
Friend: tch tch!
Dad: And then I am supposed to go meet the Hindi teacher and pull her hair real hard.
Friend: OMG!!!
Dad: And then meet the Math teacher and punch him a bit and then threaten him so that he leaves class and there is no more Mathematics in school.
Friend: Jesus!!
Dad: Then I have to meet the History teacher and flirt with her so that she gives my daughter grace marks in History exams.
Friend: *shakes his head disapprovingly*
Dad: And then I am supposed to haul the PT teacher by the collar and drag him to the football ground and punch him around the ground, thrash him to pulp and then pick him up and throw him into the garbage bin.
Friend: :-O
Dad: After that, I have to barge into Sister Principal’s room and tell her that she should abdicate her post and give it to that nice sister Marie who teaches kindergarten and loves my daughter to bits.
Friend: That Nun is over 100 years old surely!
Dad: Exactly! And then I am supposed to intimidate the Canteen lady and tell to either shut shop or stock Chips and Bubble gum banned by the school management!
Friend: God!!!
Dad: And if I have energy left…I am supposed to slap the watchman for not allowing her to go out and buy Guavas which she is forbidden to eat. But she says she buys it for her friends you see.
Friend: Heh!
Dad: I am dreading the day she starts Computer classes next week.
Friend: Why?
Dad: Then I will probably have to beat myself up, as they don’t have a Computer Teacher yet !
Thankfully my Dad had no notions of being a super hero and tactfully ignored my creative suggestions in dealing with my teachers. He believed in handling the situation practically. So while most parents met the class teacher and then the rest of the subject teachers, my Dad bunked after meeting the Class Teacher. And since there was no record of the meetings we were never caught!!
Every attempt by the school authorities to get my Mom or elder brother to come for the meeting was futile as I was trained to give the PTA Meeting Slip only to my Dad.
Mom: When is you next PTA meeting?
Dad: Oh! That was four days ago! I forgot to tell you. heh heh
Mom: %$$#$ (turning to my eldest bro) I swear on everything that is holy and sacred to my family that one day I will get that slip.
Dad: Please make that your “maternal family”.
My Dad slept on the couch that day. But that was for the good actually. We got him all to ourselves to tell us a whole lot of tall tales in which he was the super hero!
I will give anything to walk those dusty corridors again, hanging onto my Dad’s hand, passing class by rickety class and glowering teachers. If looks could kill, a certain Dad and daughter would be deader than a Dodo fourteen years ago… killed instantly by the violent looks of the daughter’s History Teacher, English Teacher, Math Teacher, Hindi Teacher, Kannada Teacher, Geography Teacher, Science Teacher, PT Teacher, EVS Teacher, Catechism Teacher and Watchman.
( When in Dilli do as the higher IQ Dilli'ites do... says Babychen!)
Dad’s friend: Shall we meet up today for lunch?
Dad: No. I have to go for a PTA meeting.
Friend: That would take about an hour right? You can drop by after that!
Dad: Nopes, My daughter says that I have to meet the Science teacher….
Friend: Well that shouldn’t take more then 10 minutes!
Dad (continuing): …and tell her that she is no good.
Friend: Huh!
Dad: And then I am supposed to meet the English teacher ….
Friend: Ok!
Dad: And tell her she sucks.
Friend: What language!
Dad: And she says I cannot use any other language.
Friend: tch tch!
Dad: And then I am supposed to go meet the Hindi teacher and pull her hair real hard.
Friend: OMG!!!
Dad: And then meet the Math teacher and punch him a bit and then threaten him so that he leaves class and there is no more Mathematics in school.
Friend: Jesus!!
Dad: Then I have to meet the History teacher and flirt with her so that she gives my daughter grace marks in History exams.
Friend: *shakes his head disapprovingly*
Dad: And then I am supposed to haul the PT teacher by the collar and drag him to the football ground and punch him around the ground, thrash him to pulp and then pick him up and throw him into the garbage bin.
Friend: :-O
Dad: After that, I have to barge into Sister Principal’s room and tell her that she should abdicate her post and give it to that nice sister Marie who teaches kindergarten and loves my daughter to bits.
Friend: That Nun is over 100 years old surely!
Dad: Exactly! And then I am supposed to intimidate the Canteen lady and tell to either shut shop or stock Chips and Bubble gum banned by the school management!
Friend: God!!!
Dad: And if I have energy left…I am supposed to slap the watchman for not allowing her to go out and buy Guavas which she is forbidden to eat. But she says she buys it for her friends you see.
Friend: Heh!
Dad: I am dreading the day she starts Computer classes next week.
Friend: Why?
Dad: Then I will probably have to beat myself up, as they don’t have a Computer Teacher yet !
Thankfully my Dad had no notions of being a super hero and tactfully ignored my creative suggestions in dealing with my teachers. He believed in handling the situation practically. So while most parents met the class teacher and then the rest of the subject teachers, my Dad bunked after meeting the Class Teacher. And since there was no record of the meetings we were never caught!!
Every attempt by the school authorities to get my Mom or elder brother to come for the meeting was futile as I was trained to give the PTA Meeting Slip only to my Dad.
Mom: When is you next PTA meeting?
Dad: Oh! That was four days ago! I forgot to tell you. heh heh
Mom: %$$#$ (turning to my eldest bro) I swear on everything that is holy and sacred to my family that one day I will get that slip.
Dad: Please make that your “maternal family”.
My Dad slept on the couch that day. But that was for the good actually. We got him all to ourselves to tell us a whole lot of tall tales in which he was the super hero!
I will give anything to walk those dusty corridors again, hanging onto my Dad’s hand, passing class by rickety class and glowering teachers. If looks could kill, a certain Dad and daughter would be deader than a Dodo fourteen years ago… killed instantly by the violent looks of the daughter’s History Teacher, English Teacher, Math Teacher, Hindi Teacher, Kannada Teacher, Geography Teacher, Science Teacher, PT Teacher, EVS Teacher, Catechism Teacher and Watchman.
( When in Dilli do as the higher IQ Dilli'ites do... says Babychen!)
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Down rediscovery lane...
I have lost my identity! I mean I have lost my cooking identity!!! I realized this today morning as I was making breakfast. The realization woke me instantly and I was able to swiftly douse the flames in the kitchen with the help of the Fire Brigade. Weekend breakfasts in my home is made by the three of us siblings so that our mother can get a break from cooking and concentrate on cleaning the mess after we have finished. We are very caring kids you know! And while I was getting breakfast ready, I realized that I was automatically making stuff that the people in the house like.
Now most married women here would say - So what's new ??
To which I would say - Heloooo ladies, I am not married. I haven’t lost my individuality yet!!!! pffft
To which the ladies will say - Yenjoy while it lasts dear *snigger* and *loud unladylike laughter*
Back to the post. So I realized that I was cooking what everybody in the house likes and that I have been doing that for years now. Egads!!! The realization hit me like a thunderbolt!!! I was like a married old hag errr I mean wife now, who had no likes and dislikes of her own. Eeeeks!!!!!!
Emergency repair measures were needed I realized. I had to get back that carefree gal that burnt water when she was 6 years old!! Yes peoples, yours truly has the distinction of being the first wannabe cook kid to have burnt water. Don’t ask me how. But according to my ma I did it and she is damn proud of it. (And that makes it a grand total of "one" thing about me that she is proud of.)
Mom 1: My daughter burnt the toast today. She is learning to cook you know! So sweet.
Mom 2: Mine burnt the fried egg. But only partially. I am so proud of her!!!
My mom: Mine burnt the water.
Mom1 and 2: Leelamme, do you know you have just set a world record for moms!!!
My mom (fluttering eyelashes modestly): I know! *blush*
Anyway I decided that I really needed to reverse the trend and enjoy some years of individuality before I totally lose it on the sacrificial altar of marriage in a couple of years. After some frantic reading of self help sites on the Internet I sat down to de-psyche me of my present culinary enslavement. I had a deep and meaningful chat with my inner me after hunting for her for a good one hour! I finally found her with the help of two stiff shots of Vodka. The poor thing was totally disoriented and had to be coaxed out of her shell with some gentle regressive hypnosis techniques
Silverine (S): Dear girl, today I shall take you back to your childhood and strip the layers of influences that has smothered the real you and then I will bring you back as a spanking new individual with a distinctive character of her own!
Inner Me (in a zombie like voice): Yes Silverine!
S: Think of the day you first felt that stirring to cook!!
Inner me (IM): Ok!
S: What did you want to cook?
IM: The dog actually. But I couldn’t lift him up.
S: err...I mean when did you want to cook like your mom?
IM: hmmm lemme think….
S: It’s been two hours since you have been thinking dear….
IM: I forgot :(
S: Sigh….
IM: I remember!!!
S: Good!!!
IM: The first thing I wanted to make was Ice Cream when I was 8 years old.
S: Good!!! And what ice cream did you want to make?
IM: hmm Dad said I should make Chocolate flavor, chetan ( eldest bro) wanted Strawberry , the other brother wanted Pista and Mom wanted a Valium to drown the thought of me in her kitchen.
S: And what flavor did “you” want to make?
IM: I don’t remember :(
S: That’s all right dear! What is the five operations in the production of ganja cigarettes?
IM: Huh!
S: oooops forget I said that …just one of those self help sites I stumbled onto when I was looking for help for our session you know! Ahem…now tell me what was the next thing you wanted to make?
IM: Cake!!
S: And what cake did you want to make?
IM: Dad wanted Coconut cake, chetan wanted sponge cake, M wanted Chocolate cake and Mom wanted me out of the kitchen!
S: *groan* and what did “you” want to make?
IM: I don’t remember :(
S: Sigh….Anju is there anything you remember about yourself?
IM (looking around): Anju? Who is that?
S: That’s your name for gods sakes!!!
IM: My folks call me Kookie!
S: OMG! Do you have a personality of yours at all!
IM: Duh!
S: (gritting her teeth):…and what was the next thing you wanted to make dear….
IM: Milkshake!!
S (sarcastically): Lemme guess…your Dad wanted Mango milkshake, chetan wanted Strawberry, M wanted Chikoo and your mom wanted out, right?
IM: Spot on!!! But how did you guess that???
S: Never mind. Another Vodka?
IM: Make it a beer. I have been conditioned to drink Vodka you see as the people in the house like Vodka on a Sunday.
S: Bravo!!! I am so proud of you! We are finally making progress!!
IM: Thank you!! Anyways….by that time I fourteen I was standing on my own two feet as a fairly accomplished cook!
S: Wow!! And what is your favorite cuisine?
IM: Dad likes Chinese, chetan likes naadan, M likes…
S (cutting in hurriedly): Say...do you have anything stiffer than Vodka or Beer? Like a bullet to the temple or a Grenade I can pop in the mouth perhaps hmm?
Anyway the session was good and I firmly resolved that I would henceforth cook what I want. And after cooking what I wanted for Lunch today and throwing most of the Eggplant Moussaka, Vegetable Lasagna, Spinach and Broccoli Au Gratin and Coconut Mousse in the dustbin, I also resolved that from now on when I cook what I want, I will make it really small portions. *sigh*
Now most married women here would say - So what's new ??
To which I would say - Heloooo ladies, I am not married. I haven’t lost my individuality yet!!!! pffft
To which the ladies will say - Yenjoy while it lasts dear *snigger* and *loud unladylike laughter*
Back to the post. So I realized that I was cooking what everybody in the house likes and that I have been doing that for years now. Egads!!! The realization hit me like a thunderbolt!!! I was like a married old hag errr I mean wife now, who had no likes and dislikes of her own. Eeeeks!!!!!!
Emergency repair measures were needed I realized. I had to get back that carefree gal that burnt water when she was 6 years old!! Yes peoples, yours truly has the distinction of being the first wannabe cook kid to have burnt water. Don’t ask me how. But according to my ma I did it and she is damn proud of it. (And that makes it a grand total of "one" thing about me that she is proud of.)
Mom 1: My daughter burnt the toast today. She is learning to cook you know! So sweet.
Mom 2: Mine burnt the fried egg. But only partially. I am so proud of her!!!
My mom: Mine burnt the water.
Mom1 and 2: Leelamme, do you know you have just set a world record for moms!!!
My mom (fluttering eyelashes modestly): I know! *blush*
Anyway I decided that I really needed to reverse the trend and enjoy some years of individuality before I totally lose it on the sacrificial altar of marriage in a couple of years. After some frantic reading of self help sites on the Internet I sat down to de-psyche me of my present culinary enslavement. I had a deep and meaningful chat with my inner me after hunting for her for a good one hour! I finally found her with the help of two stiff shots of Vodka. The poor thing was totally disoriented and had to be coaxed out of her shell with some gentle regressive hypnosis techniques
Silverine (S): Dear girl, today I shall take you back to your childhood and strip the layers of influences that has smothered the real you and then I will bring you back as a spanking new individual with a distinctive character of her own!
Inner Me (in a zombie like voice): Yes Silverine!
S: Think of the day you first felt that stirring to cook!!
Inner me (IM): Ok!
S: What did you want to cook?
IM: The dog actually. But I couldn’t lift him up.
S: err...I mean when did you want to cook like your mom?
IM: hmmm lemme think….
S: It’s been two hours since you have been thinking dear….
IM: I forgot :(
S: Sigh….
IM: I remember!!!
S: Good!!!
IM: The first thing I wanted to make was Ice Cream when I was 8 years old.
S: Good!!! And what ice cream did you want to make?
IM: hmm Dad said I should make Chocolate flavor, chetan ( eldest bro) wanted Strawberry , the other brother wanted Pista and Mom wanted a Valium to drown the thought of me in her kitchen.
S: And what flavor did “you” want to make?
IM: I don’t remember :(
S: That’s all right dear! What is the five operations in the production of ganja cigarettes?
IM: Huh!
S: oooops forget I said that …just one of those self help sites I stumbled onto when I was looking for help for our session you know! Ahem…now tell me what was the next thing you wanted to make?
IM: Cake!!
S: And what cake did you want to make?
IM: Dad wanted Coconut cake, chetan wanted sponge cake, M wanted Chocolate cake and Mom wanted me out of the kitchen!
S: *groan* and what did “you” want to make?
IM: I don’t remember :(
S: Sigh….Anju is there anything you remember about yourself?
IM (looking around): Anju? Who is that?
S: That’s your name for gods sakes!!!
IM: My folks call me Kookie!
S: OMG! Do you have a personality of yours at all!
IM: Duh!
S: (gritting her teeth):…and what was the next thing you wanted to make dear….
IM: Milkshake!!
S (sarcastically): Lemme guess…your Dad wanted Mango milkshake, chetan wanted Strawberry, M wanted Chikoo and your mom wanted out, right?
IM: Spot on!!! But how did you guess that???
S: Never mind. Another Vodka?
IM: Make it a beer. I have been conditioned to drink Vodka you see as the people in the house like Vodka on a Sunday.
S: Bravo!!! I am so proud of you! We are finally making progress!!
IM: Thank you!! Anyways….by that time I fourteen I was standing on my own two feet as a fairly accomplished cook!
S: Wow!! And what is your favorite cuisine?
IM: Dad likes Chinese, chetan likes naadan, M likes…
S (cutting in hurriedly): Say...do you have anything stiffer than Vodka or Beer? Like a bullet to the temple or a Grenade I can pop in the mouth perhaps hmm?
Anyway the session was good and I firmly resolved that I would henceforth cook what I want. And after cooking what I wanted for Lunch today and throwing most of the Eggplant Moussaka, Vegetable Lasagna, Spinach and Broccoli Au Gratin and Coconut Mousse in the dustbin, I also resolved that from now on when I cook what I want, I will make it really small portions. *sigh*
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Gimme a break!!
I have just been through a break up peoples. Now…now… hold the tissues and handkerchiefs dears. It is not what you think it is. It is a break up with a guy alright, but he is not my boyfriend. I am still single and unavailable like most Indian girls. So you might wonder what I am talking about right? Well let me explain with this chronological sequence of events….
(Girls on the other hand would have understood the post with the opening line itself and right now may be yawning and saying “lets go grab a coffee, nothing new here”)
Week one
Him (a colleague): Hi!
Her: Hi!
Him: Remember we met the other day. I was with Kevin!
Her: Oh yes!
Him: How you doing?
Her: Fine!
Him: See you around then!
Her: Bye!
Week two
Him: Hi!
Her: Hi!
Him: You had Coffee?
She: No!
Him: I am going over to the cafeteria. Coming?
Her: Sure! Though I have to get back immediately with the coffee.
Him: Okay!
Week three
Him: Hi!!
Her: Hi!
Him: Don’t see you around!
Her: Why? Did you need to speak to me?
Him: No! Just wondering where you were.
Her: Right here on my seat! (duh!)
Him: heh heh
Week four
Him: Hi!
Her: Hi!
Him: Hey did I say something
Her: Huh!
Him: I feel you are avoiding me!
Her: Why should I avoid you??
Him: Oh I felt like that!
Her: *gets back to work ignoring him*
Week five
Him: So where are “We” going this Friday!
Her: “We”??????
Him: Yeah! Movie?
Her: No thanks!
Him: Why????
Her: I have plans.
Him: Oh! Plans? You mean you have a date!
Her: I am meeting with friends.
Him: *phew* Yenjoy then!
Her (reaching for the phone): hmm thanks!
Week six
Him: Hi!! Movie this Friday!
Her: No!
Him: Why?
Her: Because I don’t want to see a movie that’s why!
Him: Dinner?
Her: No thanks!
Him: Then what do you want to do?
Her (shrugging): Nothing!
Him: Listen…if you don’t want to go out with me, then tell me clearly!
Her: I don’t want to go out with you.
Him: *hurt look*
Her: See you. I have a meeting.
Week Seven (first half)
Him: Hiiiiii!
Her: *groan* Hi!
Him: Listen, forget what happened last week and let’s make a fresh start!
Her: What happened last week?
Him: We had that little misunderstanding naah.
Her: Huh?
Him: See you in the evening for coffee then!
Her: No...I am going out for a meeting!
Week Seven (second half)
Him: Coming for coffee?
Her: No thanks!
Him: See!! You have not forgiven me!
Her: Forgiven you for what...for gods sake!
Him: Then let’s have coffee together!
Her: Not now I am busy.
Him: Ok! See ya in the evening then?
Her: I have no idea frankly what I will be doing then. Bye!
Week Eight
Him: Hi!
Her: Now what?
Him: Who was that guy with you at the cafeteria yesterday?
Me: When?
Him :11:26 am
Her: That must be Syed!
Him: hmmm you seeing him?
Her (annoyed): What’s wrong with you! He is one of our Product Managers!!!
Him (hurriedly): Sorry! Just kidding!
She walks away in a huff!
Week eight (Second half)
Him: Hi!
Her: *ignoring him*
Him: Listen I know things are not going well between us.
Her (eyebrows arched) : “Us”?????
Him: It’s because we don’t spend time together!
Her: What!!!!
Him: We won’t be having these tiffs if we spent more time with each other…understand each other…
Her: Ente ammey! (OMG)
Him:…. get to know each other….and..
Her: Listen! I don’t want to know you or spend time with you…
Him: But why?
Her: What do you mean “but why”
Him: I am not going to restrict you in any way if you are concerned about that! I am a very modern guy who….
Her: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, *Jesus give me patience or I might clobber him* 6. 7. 8. 9. 10...
Week eight (last day)
Him (calling her extn): Hello!
She: Hi!
He: Listen, if you are worried that I may not let you work after marriage…
She (biting back expletives): Marriage? OMG! What’s going on here! Listen you may have seen me here for some time, but that was as a summer Intern. I am not…
Him (cutting in): That’s okay if you too young for marriage. I can wait.
Her: Wait? You are going to wait for me? Aaarrrghhhhh *slams the phone down*
He (calling her again): What happened? You kept the phone down?
She (thinking quickly): Hey I would like to chat, but my boyfriend is waiting for me at the reception.
He: Boyfriend????
She (sweetly): Yes!
He: But you didn't tell me you had a boyfriend!
She: But why should I tell you I have a boyfriend?
He: But you should have told me!
She: But why? I don’t think I have to tell a colleague whether I have a BF or not!!
He: I feel like such a fool…
She: Why would you feel like a fool for accompanying me to the vending machine???
Him: Is that all it was “accompanying me to the vending machine?”
Her: Yep!
Him (injured tone): Bye!
Her friend to her: What boyfriend? You don't have a BF!
She: Necessity is the mother of invention dearie! ;)
That btw was my 567th “break up”. Next time I think I will say I am joining the convent. Or may I will say that I …..err hmm well...suggestions welcome!
(Girls on the other hand would have understood the post with the opening line itself and right now may be yawning and saying “lets go grab a coffee, nothing new here”)
Week one
Him (a colleague): Hi!
Her: Hi!
Him: Remember we met the other day. I was with Kevin!
Her: Oh yes!
Him: How you doing?
Her: Fine!
Him: See you around then!
Her: Bye!
Week two
Him: Hi!
Her: Hi!
Him: You had Coffee?
She: No!
Him: I am going over to the cafeteria. Coming?
Her: Sure! Though I have to get back immediately with the coffee.
Him: Okay!
Week three
Him: Hi!!
Her: Hi!
Him: Don’t see you around!
Her: Why? Did you need to speak to me?
Him: No! Just wondering where you were.
Her: Right here on my seat! (duh!)
Him: heh heh
Week four
Him: Hi!
Her: Hi!
Him: Hey did I say something
Her: Huh!
Him: I feel you are avoiding me!
Her: Why should I avoid you??
Him: Oh I felt like that!
Her: *gets back to work ignoring him*
Week five
Him: So where are “We” going this Friday!
Her: “We”??????
Him: Yeah! Movie?
Her: No thanks!
Him: Why????
Her: I have plans.
Him: Oh! Plans? You mean you have a date!
Her: I am meeting with friends.
Him: *phew* Yenjoy then!
Her (reaching for the phone): hmm thanks!
Week six
Him: Hi!! Movie this Friday!
Her: No!
Him: Why?
Her: Because I don’t want to see a movie that’s why!
Him: Dinner?
Her: No thanks!
Him: Then what do you want to do?
Her (shrugging): Nothing!
Him: Listen…if you don’t want to go out with me, then tell me clearly!
Her: I don’t want to go out with you.
Him: *hurt look*
Her: See you. I have a meeting.
Week Seven (first half)
Him: Hiiiiii!
Her: *groan* Hi!
Him: Listen, forget what happened last week and let’s make a fresh start!
Her: What happened last week?
Him: We had that little misunderstanding naah.
Her: Huh?
Him: See you in the evening for coffee then!
Her: No...I am going out for a meeting!
Week Seven (second half)
Him: Coming for coffee?
Her: No thanks!
Him: See!! You have not forgiven me!
Her: Forgiven you for what...for gods sake!
Him: Then let’s have coffee together!
Her: Not now I am busy.
Him: Ok! See ya in the evening then?
Her: I have no idea frankly what I will be doing then. Bye!
Week Eight
Him: Hi!
Her: Now what?
Him: Who was that guy with you at the cafeteria yesterday?
Me: When?
Him :11:26 am
Her: That must be Syed!
Him: hmmm you seeing him?
Her (annoyed): What’s wrong with you! He is one of our Product Managers!!!
Him (hurriedly): Sorry! Just kidding!
She walks away in a huff!
Week eight (Second half)
Him: Hi!
Her: *ignoring him*
Him: Listen I know things are not going well between us.
Her (eyebrows arched) : “Us”?????
Him: It’s because we don’t spend time together!
Her: What!!!!
Him: We won’t be having these tiffs if we spent more time with each other…understand each other…
Her: Ente ammey! (OMG)
Him:…. get to know each other….and..
Her: Listen! I don’t want to know you or spend time with you…
Him: But why?
Her: What do you mean “but why”
Him: I am not going to restrict you in any way if you are concerned about that! I am a very modern guy who….
Her: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, *Jesus give me patience or I might clobber him* 6. 7. 8. 9. 10...
Week eight (last day)
Him (calling her extn): Hello!
She: Hi!
He: Listen, if you are worried that I may not let you work after marriage…
She (biting back expletives): Marriage? OMG! What’s going on here! Listen you may have seen me here for some time, but that was as a summer Intern. I am not…
Him (cutting in): That’s okay if you too young for marriage. I can wait.
Her: Wait? You are going to wait for me? Aaarrrghhhhh *slams the phone down*
He (calling her again): What happened? You kept the phone down?
She (thinking quickly): Hey I would like to chat, but my boyfriend is waiting for me at the reception.
He: Boyfriend????
She (sweetly): Yes!
He: But you didn't tell me you had a boyfriend!
She: But why should I tell you I have a boyfriend?
He: But you should have told me!
She: But why? I don’t think I have to tell a colleague whether I have a BF or not!!
He: I feel like such a fool…
She: Why would you feel like a fool for accompanying me to the vending machine???
Him: Is that all it was “accompanying me to the vending machine?”
Her: Yep!
Him (injured tone): Bye!
Her friend to her: What boyfriend? You don't have a BF!
She: Necessity is the mother of invention dearie! ;)
That btw was my 567th “break up”. Next time I think I will say I am joining the convent. Or may I will say that I …..err hmm well...suggestions welcome!
Monday, February 25, 2008
Cacophony Villa
It’s been three weeks since my err...accident and the finger has healed well. The recuperation period was a memorable time and it was nice to show the finger to all and sundry and get away with it. Jokes abounded in the office about the origin of the injury, which I dismissed as the ramblings of very sick and perverted minds. But I now look at my colleagues with a new disrespect.
According to my bro, it would have healed faster if I had let him bang it with a hammer. I told him that I would definitely try it out as long as I can do the same with his head. Sadly he declined.
Anyways this whole experience bought home the fact rather forcefully that I have such a wonderful and supportive family...when we are not bickering. In fact we are so perfect that we should be bronzed err...strike that out. That would be painful. But the fact is that we are a picture perfect family in every sense of the word. See for yourself!
A family that prays together stays together.
Dad: Jesus Christ!!! Look at the Sensex today!!
Mom: Ente daivame!! The price of fish these days is atrocious!!
Second bro M: O M G!!! Look at that babe err I mean Sania Mirza.
Eldest bro G: For the love of God has anyone seen my black and white striped shirt?
Me: Holy Mother of God I am late again!!!!!
A family that eats together stays together.
Dad: *ugh* sambhar again?
M: *ugh* pavakkai!!
Me: pavakkai!! Yumm!
G: Has anyone seen my black formal pants?
Mom: People who do not like the food cooked here can eat at the Darshini down the road hmmph!
A family that plays together stays together.
Dad: Ace! I win again!
M: Not so fast, I finished before you.
Me: He cheated achcha. I saw him keeping some cards under his legs.
G: Has anyone seen my shoes I picked up from Singapore?
Me: If I knew how to cheat I would win too! :(
Mom: Why can’t we play without cheating like other families!!!
A family that talks together stays together.
Dad: I think tax exemption limit may be raised in the budget!
Mom: I heard Mariamma’s third daughter is getting married to James second son.
M: Wowie!! Look at those err I mean Maria Sharapova plays well.
Me: I am going to shave my head and then elope with Laloo Prasad Yadav!!
G (plaintively): Has anyone seen my black tie?
M: For gods sake stop whining. You will find your stuff in my cupboard.
Me: See!! I knew it!! No one listens to me !
G: *whew* Thank you! I was afraid I left it behind at the hotel!
M: And don’t mess up my cupboard*!!!
* Something so messed up that even God cannot make it worse.
And so what was I saying!? Something about us being the picture perfect family …yeah sure...if the picture was made by a spastic color blind bat! :)
Have a nice week everyone!
According to my bro, it would have healed faster if I had let him bang it with a hammer. I told him that I would definitely try it out as long as I can do the same with his head. Sadly he declined.
Anyways this whole experience bought home the fact rather forcefully that I have such a wonderful and supportive family...when we are not bickering. In fact we are so perfect that we should be bronzed err...strike that out. That would be painful. But the fact is that we are a picture perfect family in every sense of the word. See for yourself!
A family that prays together stays together.
Dad: Jesus Christ!!! Look at the Sensex today!!
Mom: Ente daivame!! The price of fish these days is atrocious!!
Second bro M: O M G!!! Look at that babe err I mean Sania Mirza.
Eldest bro G: For the love of God has anyone seen my black and white striped shirt?
Me: Holy Mother of God I am late again!!!!!
A family that eats together stays together.
Dad: *ugh* sambhar again?
M: *ugh* pavakkai!!
Me: pavakkai!! Yumm!
G: Has anyone seen my black formal pants?
Mom: People who do not like the food cooked here can eat at the Darshini down the road hmmph!
A family that plays together stays together.
Dad: Ace! I win again!
M: Not so fast, I finished before you.
Me: He cheated achcha. I saw him keeping some cards under his legs.
G: Has anyone seen my shoes I picked up from Singapore?
Me: If I knew how to cheat I would win too! :(
Mom: Why can’t we play without cheating like other families!!!
A family that talks together stays together.
Dad: I think tax exemption limit may be raised in the budget!
Mom: I heard Mariamma’s third daughter is getting married to James second son.
M: Wowie!! Look at those err I mean Maria Sharapova plays well.
Me: I am going to shave my head and then elope with Laloo Prasad Yadav!!
G (plaintively): Has anyone seen my black tie?
M: For gods sake stop whining. You will find your stuff in my cupboard.
Me: See!! I knew it!! No one listens to me !
G: *whew* Thank you! I was afraid I left it behind at the hotel!
M: And don’t mess up my cupboard*!!!
* Something so messed up that even God cannot make it worse.
And so what was I saying!? Something about us being the picture perfect family …yeah sure...if the picture was made by a spastic color blind bat! :)
Have a nice week everyone!
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Family diplomacy
I like Christmas because it does not have an anti climax like Easter. After the grand Easter lunch and the burp, the festivity abruptly comes to an end and you go back to gorging on all those things you gave up for Lent (a 40 day upwaas).
Christmas on the other hand is followed by visits to all the families in the family and this is the only period of time that no one forces you to eat their Christmas delicacy, which tastes exactly the same as the one served in the 77 families you visited before. Everyone knows that you are visiting relations and hence stuffed, though they don’t know that you gave the same excuse to everyone…that the last house stuffed you to the gills. A very happy situation for all leading to a lot of unnecessary laughter, lies and confessions in church.
Me: Forgive me father for I have sinned.
Priest: And what did you do.
Me: I told my aunt that her Cake tasted great. It sucked big time.
Priest: hmmmm
Me: I told Jose that his Christmas Crib was an engineering miracle. It was a miracle it stood up for three whole seconds.
Priest: hmmmmmm
Me: I told Kurian uncle that his wine was awesome. It was so sour that milk curdled a mile way from it.
Priest: *snort* For Gods sake tell me something new!!!
Apart from visiting relations and telling a whole lot of lies like how you ate so much and cannot therefore even drink tea but if it is Scotch it is okay, you have to go through an ancient achayan ritual called “Christmas Crib seeing.” It is quite like Bride Seeing but quite unlike it too. I know it sounds confusing but then that’s how it is.
Normally the boy kids in the family make the Christmas Crib that his family is so proud of. The famous mallu sarcasm vanishes when it comes to your kids and hence most of our Christmas cribs are errr well….horrible!
“Look at the crib Jojo has made!!” exclaimed Jojo’s mother proudly. I looked around the room. There were several sacks of pepper or nutmeg I am not so sure. And several stacks of rubber sheets, a tractor blade and some other stuff. But no crib.
“err Jojo why don’t you tell me something about your Christmas crib” I said hoping Jojo will then point me in the direction of the crib.
Jojo the practical boy he is and having learnt from the visits of other visiting relations, who were not close enough to hold their sarcastic tongue, pointed in the direction of what looked like an Alien nest in the corner of the room. I recoiled in horror. Jojo flinched. I felt bad.
“This is sooooo amazing Jojo” I said truthfully. It was indeed amazing. It was just like those Alien eggs/nest in the movie Alien. I looked fearfully for signs of movement in the egg/nest in case I have to make a dash for it. But all was calm in the nest/egg. Jojo parted the egg/nest to show me the Christmas figurines inside. I was so relieved that I smiled. Jojo mistook it for amazement. I didn’t contradict him.Considering the fact that my mother had bought another horrible gift for him that he will promptly give away to the Parish Charity sale, this was the least I could do for him.
The next house was no better.
“Look!!” exclaimed Jojan’s mother.
“Look at the crib Jojan has made” She said beaming.
I stood in the garden and looked at every tree, bush and creeper. But no crib.
“err Jojan why don’t you tell me something about your Christmas crib” I said hoping Jojan will then point me in the direction of the crib. Now Jojan is 6 years old and three feet high and hence sarcasm goes over his head. But he has his own bit of 6 year old sarcasm.
“Chechi. You show me the crib!” he says cockily.
“Chechide bestest muththalle nee! Show me the Crib da.” I plead.
“No” he says adamantly.
“Ok! I will give you a Chocolate.” I wager in hope.
“Make it a Toblerone 'and' you take back that Cadbury Chocolate your amma gave me and we have a deal”.
“Sigh… deal”
Then Jojan proceeded to show me some shreds of pink wrapping paper the kind jewelers wrap gold jewelery in, wrapped around three pots of Crotons. Sitting precariously over the pots edges were the Holy Family and the entire denizens of Bethlehem. I heaved a sigh of relief. I have never been so happy to see a Christmas Crib!!! Imagine if Jojan had quizzed me in front of the entire family!! I could have gone around his house and the 100 acres of rubber estate with a fine tooth comb and still not found the Christmas Crib! Jojan’s mom would have hated me and his Dad would have hated me and then doubted his son’s paternity!!! (He comes from a family of champion Crib makers you see) A tragedy averted by some quick thinking by yours truly!!
The next house was next ….obviously.
“Look” exclaimed Blessy’s mother. I groaned. “Look at the crib Blessy has made” She said. I looked around the hall and then looked at Blessy standing prim and proper like a good little 6 year old girl.
“Blessy sweety why don’t you tell me something about your Christmas crib” I said hoping Blessy will point me in the direction of the Crib. Tears filled Blessy’s big brown eyes. I panicked. Maybe I am standing on her crib or perhaps sitting on it or perhaps I have accidentally eaten it. A whole lot of horrible possibilities rushed into my mind. As I wondered how I could possibly make up to my niece for destroying her Crib, her mom walks in, removes an A 4 sheet of paper stuck on the wall and shows it to me proudly. On the paper, sketched in childish hands was a horribly deformed buffalo with a tumor, though which one was which I couldn’t quite make out. Besides the tumored buffalo was a blue Amoeba and beside the blue Amoeba was what looked like a peanut. The tumored Buffalo pointed out Blessy’s mom, was Joseph. The blue Amoeba was Mother Mary and the peanut was Baby Jesus.
We told a whole lot of lies that day.
Kindly ignore first paragraph, written due to author’s extreme short memory which was refreshed after writing this post. Give me Easter any day!!
Christmas on the other hand is followed by visits to all the families in the family and this is the only period of time that no one forces you to eat their Christmas delicacy, which tastes exactly the same as the one served in the 77 families you visited before. Everyone knows that you are visiting relations and hence stuffed, though they don’t know that you gave the same excuse to everyone…that the last house stuffed you to the gills. A very happy situation for all leading to a lot of unnecessary laughter, lies and confessions in church.
Me: Forgive me father for I have sinned.
Priest: And what did you do.
Me: I told my aunt that her Cake tasted great. It sucked big time.
Priest: hmmmm
Me: I told Jose that his Christmas Crib was an engineering miracle. It was a miracle it stood up for three whole seconds.
Priest: hmmmmmm
Me: I told Kurian uncle that his wine was awesome. It was so sour that milk curdled a mile way from it.
Priest: *snort* For Gods sake tell me something new!!!
Apart from visiting relations and telling a whole lot of lies like how you ate so much and cannot therefore even drink tea but if it is Scotch it is okay, you have to go through an ancient achayan ritual called “Christmas Crib seeing.” It is quite like Bride Seeing but quite unlike it too. I know it sounds confusing but then that’s how it is.
Normally the boy kids in the family make the Christmas Crib that his family is so proud of. The famous mallu sarcasm vanishes when it comes to your kids and hence most of our Christmas cribs are errr well….horrible!
“Look at the crib Jojo has made!!” exclaimed Jojo’s mother proudly. I looked around the room. There were several sacks of pepper or nutmeg I am not so sure. And several stacks of rubber sheets, a tractor blade and some other stuff. But no crib.
“err Jojo why don’t you tell me something about your Christmas crib” I said hoping Jojo will then point me in the direction of the crib.
Jojo the practical boy he is and having learnt from the visits of other visiting relations, who were not close enough to hold their sarcastic tongue, pointed in the direction of what looked like an Alien nest in the corner of the room. I recoiled in horror. Jojo flinched. I felt bad.
“This is sooooo amazing Jojo” I said truthfully. It was indeed amazing. It was just like those Alien eggs/nest in the movie Alien. I looked fearfully for signs of movement in the egg/nest in case I have to make a dash for it. But all was calm in the nest/egg. Jojo parted the egg/nest to show me the Christmas figurines inside. I was so relieved that I smiled. Jojo mistook it for amazement. I didn’t contradict him.Considering the fact that my mother had bought another horrible gift for him that he will promptly give away to the Parish Charity sale, this was the least I could do for him.
The next house was no better.
“Look!!” exclaimed Jojan’s mother.
“Look at the crib Jojan has made” She said beaming.
I stood in the garden and looked at every tree, bush and creeper. But no crib.
“err Jojan why don’t you tell me something about your Christmas crib” I said hoping Jojan will then point me in the direction of the crib. Now Jojan is 6 years old and three feet high and hence sarcasm goes over his head. But he has his own bit of 6 year old sarcasm.
“Chechi. You show me the crib!” he says cockily.
“Chechide bestest muththalle nee! Show me the Crib da.” I plead.
“No” he says adamantly.
“Ok! I will give you a Chocolate.” I wager in hope.
“Make it a Toblerone 'and' you take back that Cadbury Chocolate your amma gave me and we have a deal”.
“Sigh… deal”
Then Jojan proceeded to show me some shreds of pink wrapping paper the kind jewelers wrap gold jewelery in, wrapped around three pots of Crotons. Sitting precariously over the pots edges were the Holy Family and the entire denizens of Bethlehem. I heaved a sigh of relief. I have never been so happy to see a Christmas Crib!!! Imagine if Jojan had quizzed me in front of the entire family!! I could have gone around his house and the 100 acres of rubber estate with a fine tooth comb and still not found the Christmas Crib! Jojan’s mom would have hated me and his Dad would have hated me and then doubted his son’s paternity!!! (He comes from a family of champion Crib makers you see) A tragedy averted by some quick thinking by yours truly!!
The next house was next ….obviously.
“Look” exclaimed Blessy’s mother. I groaned. “Look at the crib Blessy has made” She said. I looked around the hall and then looked at Blessy standing prim and proper like a good little 6 year old girl.
“Blessy sweety why don’t you tell me something about your Christmas crib” I said hoping Blessy will point me in the direction of the Crib. Tears filled Blessy’s big brown eyes. I panicked. Maybe I am standing on her crib or perhaps sitting on it or perhaps I have accidentally eaten it. A whole lot of horrible possibilities rushed into my mind. As I wondered how I could possibly make up to my niece for destroying her Crib, her mom walks in, removes an A 4 sheet of paper stuck on the wall and shows it to me proudly. On the paper, sketched in childish hands was a horribly deformed buffalo with a tumor, though which one was which I couldn’t quite make out. Besides the tumored buffalo was a blue Amoeba and beside the blue Amoeba was what looked like a peanut. The tumored Buffalo pointed out Blessy’s mom, was Joseph. The blue Amoeba was Mother Mary and the peanut was Baby Jesus.
We told a whole lot of lies that day.
Kindly ignore first paragraph, written due to author’s extreme short memory which was refreshed after writing this post. Give me Easter any day!!
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Kahani mein twist
The times around us are a changing, or they have changed. And we who sit and work in glass houses are not aware of the passing of time in the world outside. Or so I feel sometimes. An incident that happened the other day reinforced the belief.
Location: M.G Road, Bangalore.
Protagonists: Three olde friends, Amit, Alok, a very handsome mallu dude John Abraham and Yours Truly (all names changed except Amit, Alok and Yours Truly’s)
Antagonists: Three other people who thought they were the Protagonists: Read on and you will know.
Amit is getting married. Amit, Alok and John Abraham, decide to go shopping for the wedding with the expert advice and counseling of Yours Truly. Yours truly was drafted in so that the bride to be doesn’t walk out of the vivaah pandal in a huff when she sees the horrible sherwani the dulha has landed up in.
Pandit performing the wedding ritual: Kanya ko lao!
Bride: Nahiiiin! Yeh shaadi nahin ho sakthi!!
Bridegroom: *gasp*
Bride’s parents: *gasp*
Bridegrooms parents: *gasp*
Pandit: Kyon beti?
Bride (pointing an accusing finger at the groom) : Look at his Sherwani!!!!
Everyone: *gasp*
Yours Truly is late as usual and Amit and Alok go inside this designer boutique. John Abraham hangs around outside admiring the statuesque female mannequin’s on display in the showcase. He is unable to tear his eyes away from a particularly hot plastic number who is wearing a diaphanous saree and nothing else….inside. He is oblivious to the hustle and bustle and noise and activity of M.G Road behind him.
Unknown to John Abraham *input uneasy music here*, he was being keenly observed by an excited gaggle of very interested eyes. As they blushed and giggled and debated amongst themselves on the best way possible to approach him, sweep him off his feet and then live happily ever after…the spoiler, the villain of the piece, the haddi mein kabab a.k.a Yours Truly, lands up at the scene. She takes one look at John, clicks her tongue in disapproval at the vital learning experience that he is missing and drags him protesting into the Boutique. She isn’t letting him off the shopping hook.
Consternation, heart break, chagrin, rage and seething jealousy amongst John’s pretty admirers. Before the very handsome mallu dude and Yours Truly could truly comprehend what was happening, an admirer of John walks brusquely past, deliberately brushing against Yours Truly! Yours truly takes off in great speed on a trajectory towards the road and John, Amit and Alok, now out of the boutique manage to catch her before she falls on the busy road. Yours truly is shaken and stirred and very bemused. The guys are incensed.
A quick assessment of the situation and Yours Truly starts rolling on the kerb laughing her guts out. The men are not amused. Then Amit starts giggling, followed by Alok. Soon both join me on the kerb. John is seething with rage.
The reason? *drum rolls* The person who had tried to kill Yours Truly was a young guy!!!
Summary of the plot: The jealousy of the male sex of alternative sexuality is no different from that of us gals. Cho chweeeet!!!
Welcome to the sistahood bro! *hugs* :p
p.s Nowadays when the protagonists get together, Yours Truly sports a tee that says “He is not my boyfriend” with an arrow pointing either side. One never knows which side John Abrahm will walk on. I am not taking any more chances with my life and limb brrr
(Johnny boy. I know you are reading this muahahAHAHAHAHA!!! And to you and your Valentines, I dedicate the best song in the world, the ultimate romance number. Yenjoy!!!!)
Location: M.G Road, Bangalore.
Protagonists: Three olde friends, Amit, Alok, a very handsome mallu dude John Abraham and Yours Truly (all names changed except Amit, Alok and Yours Truly’s)
Antagonists: Three other people who thought they were the Protagonists: Read on and you will know.
Amit is getting married. Amit, Alok and John Abraham, decide to go shopping for the wedding with the expert advice and counseling of Yours Truly. Yours truly was drafted in so that the bride to be doesn’t walk out of the vivaah pandal in a huff when she sees the horrible sherwani the dulha has landed up in.
Pandit performing the wedding ritual: Kanya ko lao!
Bride: Nahiiiin! Yeh shaadi nahin ho sakthi!!
Bridegroom: *gasp*
Bride’s parents: *gasp*
Bridegrooms parents: *gasp*
Pandit: Kyon beti?
Bride (pointing an accusing finger at the groom) : Look at his Sherwani!!!!
Everyone: *gasp*
Yours Truly is late as usual and Amit and Alok go inside this designer boutique. John Abraham hangs around outside admiring the statuesque female mannequin’s on display in the showcase. He is unable to tear his eyes away from a particularly hot plastic number who is wearing a diaphanous saree and nothing else….inside. He is oblivious to the hustle and bustle and noise and activity of M.G Road behind him.
Unknown to John Abraham *input uneasy music here*, he was being keenly observed by an excited gaggle of very interested eyes. As they blushed and giggled and debated amongst themselves on the best way possible to approach him, sweep him off his feet and then live happily ever after…the spoiler, the villain of the piece, the haddi mein kabab a.k.a Yours Truly, lands up at the scene. She takes one look at John, clicks her tongue in disapproval at the vital learning experience that he is missing and drags him protesting into the Boutique. She isn’t letting him off the shopping hook.
Consternation, heart break, chagrin, rage and seething jealousy amongst John’s pretty admirers. Before the very handsome mallu dude and Yours Truly could truly comprehend what was happening, an admirer of John walks brusquely past, deliberately brushing against Yours Truly! Yours truly takes off in great speed on a trajectory towards the road and John, Amit and Alok, now out of the boutique manage to catch her before she falls on the busy road. Yours truly is shaken and stirred and very bemused. The guys are incensed.
A quick assessment of the situation and Yours Truly starts rolling on the kerb laughing her guts out. The men are not amused. Then Amit starts giggling, followed by Alok. Soon both join me on the kerb. John is seething with rage.
The reason? *drum rolls* The person who had tried to kill Yours Truly was a young guy!!!
Summary of the plot: The jealousy of the male sex of alternative sexuality is no different from that of us gals. Cho chweeeet!!!
Welcome to the sistahood bro! *hugs* :p
p.s Nowadays when the protagonists get together, Yours Truly sports a tee that says “He is not my boyfriend” with an arrow pointing either side. One never knows which side John Abrahm will walk on. I am not taking any more chances with my life and limb brrr
(Johnny boy. I know you are reading this muahahAHAHAHAHA!!! And to you and your Valentines, I dedicate the best song in the world, the ultimate romance number. Yenjoy!!!!)
Saturday, February 09, 2008
The Y Not Generation
The apple of my eye, my god child Ashwini is visiting today. Like most 8 year olds, she is a wannabe Air Hostess and wants to marry Harry Potter and then divorce him for Sean Kingston.
Me: Ashwini please get me a glass of water sweety!
Ashwini: No!
Me: Pleeaaase!
Ashwini: No!!!
Me: Ayye! How are you going to become an Air Hostess with this attitude?
Ashwini: I am going to be an Indian Airlines Air Hostess *hmmpph*
This kid sure has her fundas right I must say. Why get paid to be nice when you can get paid for not being nice right? Bravo Ashwini....you just made your Godma so proud!
This is my 200th post here. Dedicating it to your spirit :)
Me: Ashwini please get me a glass of water sweety!
Ashwini: No!
Me: Pleeaaase!
Ashwini: No!!!
Me: Ayye! How are you going to become an Air Hostess with this attitude?
Ashwini: I am going to be an Indian Airlines Air Hostess *hmmpph*
This kid sure has her fundas right I must say. Why get paid to be nice when you can get paid for not being nice right? Bravo Ashwini....you just made your Godma so proud!
This is my 200th post here. Dedicating it to your spirit :)
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Death by chocolate cake and achappams
In the good old days, food was the ultimate gift to one’s guests because food was scarce and offering food, especially the costly variety like sweets was considered the epitome of hospitality. Things have changed now. People do not wait for a special day to kill their best hen. All one has to do is walk to the shop next door and pick up one, cleaned and (un)dressed. Though times have changed, my relatives back in Kerala haven’t. They still think that feeding me till I have food coming out of my ears is showing their love and affection.
Aundy: Anjuuuuuuu how are you? *muah* *muah* *hug* *hug* See what all I made for you. Here eat some appam. *stuffs it into my mouth*
Me: Bang u!
Aundy: And here taste my achappam!
Me: dhat mas ghery tice
Aundy: Aiyyo you haven’t touched the cake!!! Here open your mouth!
Me: *gag* Bhi hink hi bad rehuff!!!
Aundy: When you were so little I used to feed you and you used to puke on my lap. So sweet you were. Here eat this murukku.
Me: *puke*
Aundy: Cho chweet!! Never mind mole. I will make you my naadan (traditional) mutton soup. Will cure your puking for good.
Me: !!!!!!!!!
Aundy: And while you are waiting for the soup I will pack you some snacks. You are going to Susans aunty's house next no? You will feel hungry on the way!
Susan aunty lives next door!
Me: (bolting for the door) : Aarrrggghhh!!!
That’s it!!! I have reached the end of the tether. Desperate times calls for desperate measures. As of today I suffer from Diabetes, High Cholesterol, Alzheimer,Cardiac Infarction and oh yes…. Angina Pectoris (hope that is a disease), that necessitates strict diet control. I know no one will marry me now, but then what the heck, you win some and you lose some.
It’s a win-win kinda situation I thunk! *GRIN*
Aundy: Anjuuuuuuu how are you? *muah* *muah* *hug* *hug* See what all I made for you. Here eat some appam. *stuffs it into my mouth*
Me: Bang u!
Aundy: And here taste my achappam!
Me: dhat mas ghery tice
Aundy: Aiyyo you haven’t touched the cake!!! Here open your mouth!
Me: *gag* Bhi hink hi bad rehuff!!!
Aundy: When you were so little I used to feed you and you used to puke on my lap. So sweet you were. Here eat this murukku.
Me: *puke*
Aundy: Cho chweet!! Never mind mole. I will make you my naadan (traditional) mutton soup. Will cure your puking for good.
Me: !!!!!!!!!
Aundy: And while you are waiting for the soup I will pack you some snacks. You are going to Susans aunty's house next no? You will feel hungry on the way!
Susan aunty lives next door!
Me: (bolting for the door) : Aarrrggghhh!!!
That’s it!!! I have reached the end of the tether. Desperate times calls for desperate measures. As of today I suffer from Diabetes, High Cholesterol, Alzheimer,Cardiac Infarction and oh yes…. Angina Pectoris (hope that is a disease), that necessitates strict diet control. I know no one will marry me now, but then what the heck, you win some and you lose some.
It’s a win-win kinda situation I thunk! *GRIN*
Friday, February 01, 2008
My bad!
"My Bad!"
What a handy pair of words! I use it extensively.Works all the time for me.
Hey da, that girl is not Swetha from Sales.
My bad!
You gave me the wrong artwork!
My bad!
You gave the wrong copy to the ad agency!
My bad!
Hope you sent your aunt the Birthday Card.
My bad...amma!
*thwack*
Correction: Doesn't work all the time. My bad!
What a handy pair of words! I use it extensively.Works all the time for me.
Hey da, that girl is not Swetha from Sales.
My bad!
You gave me the wrong artwork!
My bad!
You gave the wrong copy to the ad agency!
My bad!
Hope you sent your aunt the Birthday Card.
My bad...amma!
*thwack*
Correction: Doesn't work all the time. My bad!
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Shaken and stirred
Foolhardiness is an unexpected visitor. It drops in unannounced and the consequences are felt acutely for some period of time depending on the extent of its arrival impact.
I got up today at the grande olde hour of 11 am and felt damn pleased with myself. There was pin drop silence in the house as most members of the family had left for a wedding. A peek at the uninteresting breakfast and I decided that I will make my self a healthy milk shake. I chopped up some apples and put it in the blender and decided to give it a whirr and then add the Ice Cream (all those who thought I would put in milk...*snigger*). So I started the blender and apple pieces started flying every where in my mothers nice clean kitchen. I instinctively reached out to hold the lid down and...I will spare you the gristly details.
There was blood everywhere and … some pain, but then I was suddenly one finger less. There was no feeling in the left-click-the-mouse finger! I was so happy. This means it won’t pain! But the puddle forming on the floor wasn’t such a pretty sight. I never cared for blood red anyway!! Too Renaissance!
A quick dab with the kitchen towels took care of the blood bath the kitchen received and then I surveyed my hurt. I am no doctor, but this was a big boo boo err I mean hurt. And the boo boo err hurt looked like those photos of mangled accident victims. It was a grisly sight. A sight that would have made a first year medical college student go *swoon* *thud* and a second year medical student say “Yawn, I have seen better.”
Covering the hurt with another swathe of kitchen towel as I could not bear to look at it, I called my classmate, now an Intern at St Johns. Now a word about this classmate… lets call her Edema. When Edema decided to join med school, our girl gang were a relieved lot. At last ONE OF US was going to be a doctor. We were saved!! Every group in school had a medical school aspirant except us. Till 9th standard Edema showed no signs of interest in Medical School or Doctors and was nicknamed Dolly Parton. (She sang quite horribly and was flat chested. We were being kind.)
Edema was at the house in quick time. One look at my finger and she muttered something medical under the breath like “What the fcuk!!!” and rushed me into the car. Now Edema had all the qualities that a Doctor should have. She used to be a meek and silent girl in school (except when she was singing). But the moment she joined medical school, she became deaf, overbearing, developed really bad hand writing skills that only Medical Shop guys could read and started talking in strange tongues:
“Your hair is falling. I think you need a Brain surgery. Will Monday be alright?”
“You got stomach pain? You poor thing. Never mind we will do a hysterectomy. Will Tuesday be alright?”
We all are so proud of her. She will go far.
Back to our narrative. Edema drove at breakneck speed which is about 12 km per hour in a Reva and we reached St Johns in good time. Now this hospital is definitely NOT the place to go if I am planning to keep such incidences from my folks. What I mean is, if I were to throw a stone into this hospital it would hit a Doctor who is a relation and then the stone would be picked up and hurled angrily ( as the Doctor would be a mallu) and would hit an Intern who is also relation and he would in turn hurl the stone and hit a patient who is a relation / fellow kuntry man etc. etc.
And sure enough as we screeched into the hospital (break not working explained Edema) I am greeted by my cousin who is a Cardiac Surgeon. Cardiac Surgeon, lets call him Dr Ventricle, was like “Naaah, not too bad. You come with me. I will fix you up” and he promptly calls up my folks. My mom is rushed to the hospital for hyper ventilation and I get a break from everyone. Ha ha ha I am kidding. My torture continued.
Some eerie looking people in white descended on me and wheeled me full speed into the Operation Theater with Edema in hot in pursuit. I could almost imagine the report she would tender the next day.
Patient was rushed in bleeding profusely and near deaths door. Dr Ventricle, THE DR VENTRICLE please note, asked me to assist and I administered blah blah and did some blah blah and saved her from the jaws of death. Now that deserves an ‘A’ don’t you think Prof?
A really unforgettable hour later I had my beautifully manicured finger looking like it was suffering from Elephantiasis. There is enough bandage on my finger to mummify ten generation of Tutankhamens and some more. I keep seeing two of everything and my doggies sensing that something is wrong are fighting off depression and Edema’s suggestions that they to go in for Electric Shock Treatment. [My bro says it is a losing battle. My poor doggies :( ]
Whatay day!
p.s Edema says I can’t blog for some days or till I agree to have my finger chopped off.
I got up today at the grande olde hour of 11 am and felt damn pleased with myself. There was pin drop silence in the house as most members of the family had left for a wedding. A peek at the uninteresting breakfast and I decided that I will make my self a healthy milk shake. I chopped up some apples and put it in the blender and decided to give it a whirr and then add the Ice Cream (all those who thought I would put in milk...*snigger*). So I started the blender and apple pieces started flying every where in my mothers nice clean kitchen. I instinctively reached out to hold the lid down and...I will spare you the gristly details.
There was blood everywhere and … some pain, but then I was suddenly one finger less. There was no feeling in the left-click-the-mouse finger! I was so happy. This means it won’t pain! But the puddle forming on the floor wasn’t such a pretty sight. I never cared for blood red anyway!! Too Renaissance!
A quick dab with the kitchen towels took care of the blood bath the kitchen received and then I surveyed my hurt. I am no doctor, but this was a big boo boo err I mean hurt. And the boo boo err hurt looked like those photos of mangled accident victims. It was a grisly sight. A sight that would have made a first year medical college student go *swoon* *thud* and a second year medical student say “Yawn, I have seen better.”
Covering the hurt with another swathe of kitchen towel as I could not bear to look at it, I called my classmate, now an Intern at St Johns. Now a word about this classmate… lets call her Edema. When Edema decided to join med school, our girl gang were a relieved lot. At last ONE OF US was going to be a doctor. We were saved!! Every group in school had a medical school aspirant except us. Till 9th standard Edema showed no signs of interest in Medical School or Doctors and was nicknamed Dolly Parton. (She sang quite horribly and was flat chested. We were being kind.)
Edema was at the house in quick time. One look at my finger and she muttered something medical under the breath like “What the fcuk!!!” and rushed me into the car. Now Edema had all the qualities that a Doctor should have. She used to be a meek and silent girl in school (except when she was singing). But the moment she joined medical school, she became deaf, overbearing, developed really bad hand writing skills that only Medical Shop guys could read and started talking in strange tongues:
“Your hair is falling. I think you need a Brain surgery. Will Monday be alright?”
“You got stomach pain? You poor thing. Never mind we will do a hysterectomy. Will Tuesday be alright?”
We all are so proud of her. She will go far.
Back to our narrative. Edema drove at breakneck speed which is about 12 km per hour in a Reva and we reached St Johns in good time. Now this hospital is definitely NOT the place to go if I am planning to keep such incidences from my folks. What I mean is, if I were to throw a stone into this hospital it would hit a Doctor who is a relation and then the stone would be picked up and hurled angrily ( as the Doctor would be a mallu) and would hit an Intern who is also relation and he would in turn hurl the stone and hit a patient who is a relation / fellow kuntry man etc. etc.
And sure enough as we screeched into the hospital (break not working explained Edema) I am greeted by my cousin who is a Cardiac Surgeon. Cardiac Surgeon, lets call him Dr Ventricle, was like “Naaah, not too bad. You come with me. I will fix you up” and he promptly calls up my folks. My mom is rushed to the hospital for hyper ventilation and I get a break from everyone. Ha ha ha I am kidding. My torture continued.
Some eerie looking people in white descended on me and wheeled me full speed into the Operation Theater with Edema in hot in pursuit. I could almost imagine the report she would tender the next day.
Patient was rushed in bleeding profusely and near deaths door. Dr Ventricle, THE DR VENTRICLE please note, asked me to assist and I administered blah blah and did some blah blah and saved her from the jaws of death. Now that deserves an ‘A’ don’t you think Prof?
A really unforgettable hour later I had my beautifully manicured finger looking like it was suffering from Elephantiasis. There is enough bandage on my finger to mummify ten generation of Tutankhamens and some more. I keep seeing two of everything and my doggies sensing that something is wrong are fighting off depression and Edema’s suggestions that they to go in for Electric Shock Treatment. [My bro says it is a losing battle. My poor doggies :( ]
Whatay day!
p.s Edema says I can’t blog for some days or till I agree to have my finger chopped off.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Belling the BSNL cat!
Its been years since we gave up our VSNL (now BSNL) connection. But that old phone and the phone number is etched in my memory forever. Back in those days VSNL, a Government of India (Un) concern was more than a phone company… it provided us with hours of quality entertainment.
One of the features of this magnificent phone connection was “wrong numbers”. It was no use telling random people calling us that they had dialed the wrong number. They had actually dialed the correct number and landed up at the wrong number!
Over the years, my brother M became very efficient in dealing with BSNL’s problems. He was in fact a walking talking BSNL Call Centre!!
One day I got so many calls asking if I was XYZ Bakery that I handed over the problem to M. M solved the problem in a jiffy.
Caller: Happy Birthday XYZ Bakery!!!
M: Thank you!
Caller: There is an ad in today’ paper that says that you are giving a kilo of cake free to people who call and wish you Happy Birthday!
M: That’s correct!! Congratulations! Your token number is 78. Please come and collect the cake at 3 pm today.
He gave approximately 14 tokens that day to as many people. Later in the afternoon, M and his friends went over to the bakery and watched with great interest as the bakery owner’s ancestors and their privates were referred to in not so complementary terms by the assorted junta gathered there with their token numbers.
Then there were guys who got cross connected to our number due to the efficient telecommunication conglomerate called VSNL and kept calling back because they had heard a girl’s voice at the other end. This too was dispatched with great efficiency by M.
Caller: Hi!
M (in a gruff voice) : Hallow! Shivajinagar Police Station! Inspector Kempanna here!
Caller: *gulp* Sorry wrong number saar!!! *click*
This was one of the most efficient ways to get rid of persistent guys calling up home.
Inspite every other number dialed being a wrong number, there were people who would call up and get chatty without even bothering to find out if they had the right number.
Caller: Hello is this Rajkumar Thapar?
M: Yes!
Caller: heh heh Good morning Sirji! Selvam here! Heh heh
M: Good morning Selvam. How are you?
Caller: I am fine Sir. How is madam?
M: She is fine.
Caller: You sound so different on the phone Sir!
M: err thats because I have a cold you see!
Caller: Oh! So sorry to hear that Sir. Maybe you should take turmeric tea.
M: Yeah sure!
Caller: heh heh Sirji please drop into our humble abode sometime!
M: Sure!! Tomorrow is Republic Day right? We will come over for lunch.
Caller: heh heh thank you Sir. We look forward to your visit.
M: *SLAM*
Sometime back when I went to return this phone connection (as it worked only on national holidays that fell on even days during leap years), I was greeted at the gate by the security guard. “You come to return phone right? Go to the next building on your left.”
I hadn’t even asked him anything yet.
On this Republic Day, I want to say “Salute” to the BSNL of yore. Your phones were something else altogether. They had character, individuality, a spirit for adventure and rebelliousness and most importantly a mind of their own, unlike the Airtels and Tata Indicoms of today that work like boring efficient robots!!
Wishing you all a very happy Republic Day!
One of the features of this magnificent phone connection was “wrong numbers”. It was no use telling random people calling us that they had dialed the wrong number. They had actually dialed the correct number and landed up at the wrong number!
Over the years, my brother M became very efficient in dealing with BSNL’s problems. He was in fact a walking talking BSNL Call Centre!!
One day I got so many calls asking if I was XYZ Bakery that I handed over the problem to M. M solved the problem in a jiffy.
Caller: Happy Birthday XYZ Bakery!!!
M: Thank you!
Caller: There is an ad in today’ paper that says that you are giving a kilo of cake free to people who call and wish you Happy Birthday!
M: That’s correct!! Congratulations! Your token number is 78. Please come and collect the cake at 3 pm today.
He gave approximately 14 tokens that day to as many people. Later in the afternoon, M and his friends went over to the bakery and watched with great interest as the bakery owner’s ancestors and their privates were referred to in not so complementary terms by the assorted junta gathered there with their token numbers.
Then there were guys who got cross connected to our number due to the efficient telecommunication conglomerate called VSNL and kept calling back because they had heard a girl’s voice at the other end. This too was dispatched with great efficiency by M.
Caller: Hi!
M (in a gruff voice) : Hallow! Shivajinagar Police Station! Inspector Kempanna here!
Caller: *gulp* Sorry wrong number saar!!! *click*
This was one of the most efficient ways to get rid of persistent guys calling up home.
Inspite every other number dialed being a wrong number, there were people who would call up and get chatty without even bothering to find out if they had the right number.
Caller: Hello is this Rajkumar Thapar?
M: Yes!
Caller: heh heh Good morning Sirji! Selvam here! Heh heh
M: Good morning Selvam. How are you?
Caller: I am fine Sir. How is madam?
M: She is fine.
Caller: You sound so different on the phone Sir!
M: err thats because I have a cold you see!
Caller: Oh! So sorry to hear that Sir. Maybe you should take turmeric tea.
M: Yeah sure!
Caller: heh heh Sirji please drop into our humble abode sometime!
M: Sure!! Tomorrow is Republic Day right? We will come over for lunch.
Caller: heh heh thank you Sir. We look forward to your visit.
M: *SLAM*
Sometime back when I went to return this phone connection (as it worked only on national holidays that fell on even days during leap years), I was greeted at the gate by the security guard. “You come to return phone right? Go to the next building on your left.”
I hadn’t even asked him anything yet.
On this Republic Day, I want to say “Salute” to the BSNL of yore. Your phones were something else altogether. They had character, individuality, a spirit for adventure and rebelliousness and most importantly a mind of their own, unlike the Airtels and Tata Indicoms of today that work like boring efficient robots!!
Wishing you all a very happy Republic Day!
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Oh so?
Pix courtesy: Bollywood dot Com
Quiz question: Given below is the English translation of a Hindi film song. Identify the song!
Hey look at us coming together in a show of camaraderie, which we know is useless as all of you know about the tensions between us anyways. But what the heck we pompous dimwits think you all are brainless morons. So look at us over acting from every music channel till you can stand no more and be filled with overwhelming emotions at the show of artificial bhaichaara and come and see the movie so that we make lotsa money!
Disclaimer: No prizes for guessing this one.
Now I have nothing against Hindi movies because (a) I don't watch them (b) I don’t watch them and (c) I watch only recommended movies. Recommended as in movies watched by friends at their expense and recommended as good.
And I have nothing against any of the Stars that feature in this song. But I am going to kidnap each and every one of the star, starlet, extra, not so extra, casting couch victims, casting couch victimizer, line man, camera man, choreographer et al who featured in this song or were connected to it in its making and lock them in a room and play this song non stop for 72 hours continuously or till they scream 'Stop!!!' ...whatever comes first. There will be no respite at all even if they or their Managers/Secretaries offer John Abraham in wedlock to me!!
It is hoped that this experience makes them do unto others, what they would want done unto them!
Now if anyone here has a large barn or Godown please get in touch with me.
p.s FCI need not reply to this post.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Defence is the best form of defence
I was thinking today...well more of giving the 'ol grey cells an airing you know in case they stop working due to disuse. And I realized that I need to give them more of an airing than the annual airing they get till now. Right now my thought processes need a really good wheelchair. Anyways I was thinking, that if I were to leave the Earth suddenly, like in an accident I would have no legacy to leave behind for the world, except some empty Pulpy Orange bottles, a few empty shampoo bottles, a computer and some dogs!
God: And young lady, what legacies have you left behind on Earth besides that squishy thing on the road?
Me: Well…ummm…err…wel l l l …lemme think...
God: sigh...my life just sucks some days!
I realized with a sinking feeling that I am zilch in the legacy department. And then when I was thinking, a thought struck me. I did have a legacy…err well it’s a shared legacy between my second elder bro and me actually. It is the Legacy of the Most Corny Excuses of 2007!! These excuses come in handy when we are doing really important chores like blog hopping/gaming/chatting etc that do not give us time to look into minor chores that is entrusted to us by our Mom, when the maid is not around. Not a very impressive legacy I must admit, but what the heck, however minor and insignificant I do have a legacy to give to the world. You are at liberty to use them, but then we are not responsible for the consequences. I am barely alive to tell this tale and that’s cos my mom is bad in trouble shooting...trouble as in me and my bro and shooting as in shooting with a gun.
So here is my humble contribution to the world. A nice set of excuses that you can use when you run out of excuses.
When the rice gets overcooked: It is not overcooked. It’s become soft.
When milk boils over: It boiled too fast. There is something wrong with it.
When milk boils over and the rest gets burnt: There is something definitely wrong with this milk.
When milk boils over and the rest gets burnt and there is zero visibility in the house due to the thick fumes: I am right here ma ..next to you!
When the Electricity Meter reader walks off after ringing the bell for over half an hour: You didn’t give him enough bakshish for Christmas!
When the Garbage van doesn’t pick up the garbage because we forgot to keep it at the gate: I think he hates his job.
When something we had to watch over gets burnt: I didn’t get the smell of burning or I would have turned the gas off!!!
When she has to wait for me to open the door: Why don’t you knock on my bedroom window like Dad? hmmph!
When she explains that wearing ear phones and blasting music is not exactly conducive to the passage of sound into the ears: Why don’t you throw a pebble at me like Dad??? hmmph!
New rule in the house: Only one us can use ear phones/head phones at a time so that one pair of ear is available for audio purposes like for example if there is a cylinder blast, we will not get up zombie like and put on the fan in full speed due to sudden rise in heat in the house. We have compromised. When bro wears head phones, I play music full blast on the speakers and vice versa.
When the gas cylinder guy walks off after banging the gate amidst all the dogs barking and neighbors howling: I think he was looking for an excuse to sell the cylinder in black!
When the postman walks off with the registered letter because no one answered the door for a very long time: I think he hates us because we use E-mail.
When you forget to feed the dog: I thought I will give him a break from food today.
Coming late when you have been expressly told to come home because a certain highly avoidable aundy or ungle was visiting. - This is creepy. Every time they visit, we have such huge traffic jams! brrr
When you get back with worm infested veggies from the vegetable shop: These caterpillars are damn good in camouflage I say!!!
And now to survive 2008...I better start thinking right away!
God: And young lady, what legacies have you left behind on Earth besides that squishy thing on the road?
Me: Well…ummm…err…wel l l l …lemme think...
God: sigh...my life just sucks some days!
I realized with a sinking feeling that I am zilch in the legacy department. And then when I was thinking, a thought struck me. I did have a legacy…err well it’s a shared legacy between my second elder bro and me actually. It is the Legacy of the Most Corny Excuses of 2007!! These excuses come in handy when we are doing really important chores like blog hopping/gaming/chatting etc that do not give us time to look into minor chores that is entrusted to us by our Mom, when the maid is not around. Not a very impressive legacy I must admit, but what the heck, however minor and insignificant I do have a legacy to give to the world. You are at liberty to use them, but then we are not responsible for the consequences. I am barely alive to tell this tale and that’s cos my mom is bad in trouble shooting...trouble as in me and my bro and shooting as in shooting with a gun.
So here is my humble contribution to the world. A nice set of excuses that you can use when you run out of excuses.
When the rice gets overcooked: It is not overcooked. It’s become soft.
When milk boils over: It boiled too fast. There is something wrong with it.
When milk boils over and the rest gets burnt: There is something definitely wrong with this milk.
When milk boils over and the rest gets burnt and there is zero visibility in the house due to the thick fumes: I am right here ma ..next to you!
When the Electricity Meter reader walks off after ringing the bell for over half an hour: You didn’t give him enough bakshish for Christmas!
When the Garbage van doesn’t pick up the garbage because we forgot to keep it at the gate: I think he hates his job.
When something we had to watch over gets burnt: I didn’t get the smell of burning or I would have turned the gas off!!!
When she has to wait for me to open the door: Why don’t you knock on my bedroom window like Dad? hmmph!
When she explains that wearing ear phones and blasting music is not exactly conducive to the passage of sound into the ears: Why don’t you throw a pebble at me like Dad??? hmmph!
New rule in the house: Only one us can use ear phones/head phones at a time so that one pair of ear is available for audio purposes like for example if there is a cylinder blast, we will not get up zombie like and put on the fan in full speed due to sudden rise in heat in the house. We have compromised. When bro wears head phones, I play music full blast on the speakers and vice versa.
When the gas cylinder guy walks off after banging the gate amidst all the dogs barking and neighbors howling: I think he was looking for an excuse to sell the cylinder in black!
When the postman walks off with the registered letter because no one answered the door for a very long time: I think he hates us because we use E-mail.
When you forget to feed the dog: I thought I will give him a break from food today.
Coming late when you have been expressly told to come home because a certain highly avoidable aundy or ungle was visiting. - This is creepy. Every time they visit, we have such huge traffic jams! brrr
When you get back with worm infested veggies from the vegetable shop: These caterpillars are damn good in camouflage I say!!!
And now to survive 2008...I better start thinking right away!
Friday, January 18, 2008
Driving on the edge!
Dear Aladdin’s Genie,
Salaam Aleikum!
Hope you are doing fine in that Lamp and all is well with you and your own. The purpose of this mail is obvious. I need a boon. I know lots of people ask you for favors, but mine is the least cumbersome and most easily grantable of all... I promise!! Please hear me out before you delete my mail.
This month I am driving the car pool. And every day for the 45 minutes ride to office in the morning and evening this is what I have to hear in the car!
When I look into your eyes Sankaraaaaaaaaabharanamuuuuuuuu I can see a love restrained Sankaraabharanamuuuu My dil goes mmm My dil goes mmm Muthukal Sirikum Nilathil Thittikkum Soni de nakhre sone lagade meinu, soni de nakhre sone lagadeee But darlin' when I hold you Damn all these beautiful girls They only wanna do you dirt They'll have you suuuuuuicidal, suuuuuuuicidal Mrutheeya leni sudhaa laasa swargamu Sankaraaaaaaaaabharanamuuu Istamalleda inikku Istamalleda bum chik bum chik boom boom boom nanna style berene nanna style berene Sankaraaaaaaaaabharanamuuuuuuuu.......
The above cacophony emanates from the five other inmates in the car who wear their headphones and then insist on singing out loud what they hear in the privacy of their ears.
So all I ask for, is an additional accessory to be built into all the walkman, MP3 players, IPods etc of this world...like a pair of Bionic arms perhaps, that activates itself the moment someone puts on their ear phones and CLAMS THEIR MOUTH SHUT REAL HARD!!!
Thanking you in anticipation,
I remain yours sincerely,
A victim of audio molestation! (repeated assaults)
And dear peoples, if you see a black SUV on the Indiranagar flyover between 8:30 am and 9 am from Mondays to Fridays, I suggest you stop till it passes the flyover, cos one of these days I am taking the SUV over. There is only so much I can tolerate! *sob*
Have a nice weekends folks!
Salaam Aleikum!
Hope you are doing fine in that Lamp and all is well with you and your own. The purpose of this mail is obvious. I need a boon. I know lots of people ask you for favors, but mine is the least cumbersome and most easily grantable of all... I promise!! Please hear me out before you delete my mail.
This month I am driving the car pool. And every day for the 45 minutes ride to office in the morning and evening this is what I have to hear in the car!
When I look into your eyes Sankaraaaaaaaaabharanamuuuuuuuu I can see a love restrained Sankaraabharanamuuuu My dil goes mmm My dil goes mmm Muthukal Sirikum Nilathil Thittikkum Soni de nakhre sone lagade meinu, soni de nakhre sone lagadeee But darlin' when I hold you Damn all these beautiful girls They only wanna do you dirt They'll have you suuuuuuicidal, suuuuuuuicidal Mrutheeya leni sudhaa laasa swargamu Sankaraaaaaaaaabharanamuuu Istamalleda inikku Istamalleda bum chik bum chik boom boom boom nanna style berene nanna style berene Sankaraaaaaaaaabharanamuuuuuuuu.......
The above cacophony emanates from the five other inmates in the car who wear their headphones and then insist on singing out loud what they hear in the privacy of their ears.
So all I ask for, is an additional accessory to be built into all the walkman, MP3 players, IPods etc of this world...like a pair of Bionic arms perhaps, that activates itself the moment someone puts on their ear phones and CLAMS THEIR MOUTH SHUT REAL HARD!!!
Thanking you in anticipation,
I remain yours sincerely,
A victim of audio molestation! (repeated assaults)
And dear peoples, if you see a black SUV on the Indiranagar flyover between 8:30 am and 9 am from Mondays to Fridays, I suggest you stop till it passes the flyover, cos one of these days I am taking the SUV over. There is only so much I can tolerate! *sob*
Have a nice weekends folks!
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