Monday morning I walked into office for my summer internship and walked right out, gasping for breath. A powerful stench physically shoved me back as I entered the office. Gasping, wheezing and choking I asked "What’s that stench? Did any one die in here?"
My Admin and Facility Manager who was standing nearby gasped, went pale and shakily seated himself on the stairs. Fearing the worst I called for his assistant who said “m am on nofee blake” and hung up. Faced with a potential life and death situation moiself asked him gently if I could help in anyway. He said amidst gasps: "That f****ing room freshener cost 1500 bucks a piece and you say it smells like a decomposing dead body? Aarrgh!!"
Moiself was very hurt :( But since my colleague was in severe pain, I informed him soothingly that what I meant was that the place smelt like a deadbody that had been sprayed with perfume to keep out the bad smell out. This time poor Admin went blue in the face. I decided to retreat from the scene before he bust his gut or decided to bust mine. (The rest of the morning poor moiself sat in the cafeteria and worked from my lappie. Thank god for wireless networking!).
However the trigger happy housekeeping staff had joyfully sprayed all the buildings with the perfumed sewage gas...I mean air freshener. The toilets smelt of Alpine pine mountains that was strewn with decomposing bodies of swiss cattle. The stairwells smelt of Rose fields that used dead rats as manure and the Reception area smelt of a butchery that had ordered large bouquets of Rajnigandha flowers to mourn the carnage.
Working with my colleagues dupatta tied around my face was not helping as the managers were finding it difficult to distinguish a Silverine from a Manimekhalai from a Simran Kaur. I was asked to debug a code while Manimekhalai from Q&A was asked to create a print advertisement while Simran was asked to design a UI. (poor girl is our accountant).
The guys had no option but to cover their noses with Imperial Hotel tissue paper and Leela Palace cloth napkins (ever seen a guy carrying handkerchiefs?). Some desperados were seen covering their noses with salt and pepper shakers from Taj Residency (because ceramic flower vases from Windsor Manor are not very ideal for covering noses you see) Covering your nose and mouth and talking is rather inconvenient as some people found out.
P to V: Usn arn djfktin i mmfoor
V: What?
P: (removing the kerchief for a split second) I said you are standing on my foot !!
Complaints started pouring in from all quarters.
A: My cubicle smells like a horse is decomposing in here!
Housekeeping (wrinkling his nose): That will be Lily of the Valley perfumed air freshener saar!
B: Did someone pee in my cubicle?
Housekeeping: That is Mist Orange Spray saar.
C: There is a dead rat in my Cabin.
Housekeeping (covering his nose): That is Summer Flower Bouquet air freshener saar.
D: I smell a stink from the PM’s cabin. I think he is dead.
Housekeeping: That room was not sprayed because Mr. PM said he didn’t want to be disturbed.
D: Ah! That explains the smell.
By afternoon calm returned, the floors smelt clean with just a wee bit of lingering smell of death and decomposition.
Next day in an obscure corner of the newspaper a small news item reported that a certain air freshener supplier was assaulted and left in the Indiranagar drain by an unidentified Administration Manager of an IT company.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Oru Ancient Veera Gaatha
Long time ago in the early 1900’s a nubile young mallu lady was walking on the bund that separated the paddy fields owned by her family with that of another family. She was very pretty and very sexy* (loosely translated from the mallu word *wottahotbabe).
A virile young mallu turk was working in the other field and as fate would have it, their paths crossed. And since the virile young mallu turk was straight (as the whole Gay thing had not happened back then) an appreciative whistle escaped his lips. The young lass blushed when she heard the whistle and glanced shyly at the whistler. He was good-looking with a thin pencil moustache and stylish Weaver Bird Nest hairstyle. ( This particular hairstyle made men look at least three feet taller and hence was a rage in those days)
The sunlight glistened off his coconut-oiled hair. His well-muscled hands and legs were caked with mud from working in the fields. The nubile young mallu lady, like all nubile young ladies of her time fluttered her eyelashes and bit her lip in embarrassment and walked back home giggling. The virile young mallu turk watched her receding back appreciatively disregarding the fast drying mud on his hands and legs.
An innocent incident you must think. But this is mallu land. A verdant land of mountains that were actually mole hills. No mallu worth his salt will leave a mole hill unheightened. Unknown to the young couple curious eyes had observed the incident and the news was quickly disseminated via the various village media channels to all and sundry and their neighbors. (Media planning is an ancient mallu art.) All hell broke lose when the news was received in homes, kallu shaaps (toddy shops) and chaaya kadaas (tea shops) and the Parish Priest’s office ( the Priests attendant, known as the ‘Kapiiyaru’ has a wider reach than Doordarshan).
People discussed the incident at length and those of you who have read Mallu Whispers can guess the final Edited version of the news that was passed on word of mouth. According to the final version of the news, our virile young mallu turk had grabbed the fair and delicate wrist of the nubile young mallu lady, causing her to shriek and run home as fast as her mundu allowed. (which is a little faster than a tortoise but not as fast as a KSRTC bus)
That evening, blood curdling howls were heard in the valley. People attributed it to the evil spirits, but the howl was actually the painful moans of the virile young mallu turk scrubbing the mud off his body with coconut fibre at the creek. (He swore never to use coconut fibre again)
The next day at the young lass’s house a battle cry was sounded at 8 am. ( because the rooster failed to crow at the appointed hour of 6 am. The useless rooster in the chicken coup was in the habit of catching 40 winks in the morning. Many a war expedition in ancient Kerala was delayed due to lazy roosters. It was an alarming trend).
It was a Sunday and hence the expedition to the lad’s house was further delayed as Velliyammachi had made Appam and Stew. No one dared ignore her Appam and Stew even if the Appam tasted like rancid rubber sheet and the meat in the stew was tougher than MRF tyres. The chicken stew was always made from the meat of the last rooster who refused to crow. (Velliyammachi was a prolific rooster shopper. She bought one every week)
It was many generations later that someone discovered the reason for the toughness of meat in Velliyammachi’s stew. By then it was too late. 1456476 roosters had died in her quest for the perfect Chicken Stew.
Groaning under the heavy breakfast and indigestion the men in the family set off for the virile young mallu turk’s house. The bewildered family of the virile young mallu turk was taken aback to see a group of irate achayans come marching up the driveway (we had driveways back then for kaala vandi’s i.e. bullock carts). The achayans were fuming due to the over spiced stew and grimacing due to the indigestible Appams. It made a terrifying sight. (It was decided enroute that next time they will feed the enemy Velliyammachi’s Appam and Stew as a defensive war maneuver.)
The incensed men of the nubile young mallu lady’s family berated the virile young mallu turks family for raising a rapacious son. The family of the young lad stoutly defended his innocence and called the young lass a charlatan. This enraged the young lass’s family and a war of words ensued. The indigestion didn’t help matters and to cut the narrative short both families decided to cut off ties and vowed never to have anything to do with each other again. (The brave young mallu turk watched the proceeding with great interest from the safety of the cowshed).
After the dust had settled and the cackling of the chickens had died down, the virile young mallu turk was hauled from the cowshed and made to confess his sins at the church. The young lad like a good Christian recounted his escapades er…sins with great sincerity. The Confession went on for over two hours they say. Soon after the confession the priest died of a massive heart attack. (According to local legend his last words were “aarrrgh why did I have to join the priesthood?”)
The young lass were hurriedly married off before every eligible boy’s parents got to know of her er….encounter. (There were different classes of encounters in Kerala those days. This was Class I which was very negligible followed by Class II, Class III etc. I guess you get the idea by now).
The enmity between these two families is over six generations old now.
But the ghost or genes of the two young lovers have come to haunt the hormones of the new generation again. A boy from the young mallu turk’s family ( i.e. my family) is in love with a lass from the nubile young mallu lady’s family. The families are aghast, scandalized and incensed ( not particularly in that order). Elders from both sides refused to give permission for the union.
The two young rebels finally eloped and got married between a rape and a murder. (What I am trying to say is that they got married in court. The registration took place between a murder case and a rape case.)
And thus ended the enmity that was six generations old. Amen.
A virile young mallu turk was working in the other field and as fate would have it, their paths crossed. And since the virile young mallu turk was straight (as the whole Gay thing had not happened back then) an appreciative whistle escaped his lips. The young lass blushed when she heard the whistle and glanced shyly at the whistler. He was good-looking with a thin pencil moustache and stylish Weaver Bird Nest hairstyle. ( This particular hairstyle made men look at least three feet taller and hence was a rage in those days)
The sunlight glistened off his coconut-oiled hair. His well-muscled hands and legs were caked with mud from working in the fields. The nubile young mallu lady, like all nubile young ladies of her time fluttered her eyelashes and bit her lip in embarrassment and walked back home giggling. The virile young mallu turk watched her receding back appreciatively disregarding the fast drying mud on his hands and legs.
An innocent incident you must think. But this is mallu land. A verdant land of mountains that were actually mole hills. No mallu worth his salt will leave a mole hill unheightened. Unknown to the young couple curious eyes had observed the incident and the news was quickly disseminated via the various village media channels to all and sundry and their neighbors. (Media planning is an ancient mallu art.) All hell broke lose when the news was received in homes, kallu shaaps (toddy shops) and chaaya kadaas (tea shops) and the Parish Priest’s office ( the Priests attendant, known as the ‘Kapiiyaru’ has a wider reach than Doordarshan).
People discussed the incident at length and those of you who have read Mallu Whispers can guess the final Edited version of the news that was passed on word of mouth. According to the final version of the news, our virile young mallu turk had grabbed the fair and delicate wrist of the nubile young mallu lady, causing her to shriek and run home as fast as her mundu allowed. (which is a little faster than a tortoise but not as fast as a KSRTC bus)
That evening, blood curdling howls were heard in the valley. People attributed it to the evil spirits, but the howl was actually the painful moans of the virile young mallu turk scrubbing the mud off his body with coconut fibre at the creek. (He swore never to use coconut fibre again)
The next day at the young lass’s house a battle cry was sounded at 8 am. ( because the rooster failed to crow at the appointed hour of 6 am. The useless rooster in the chicken coup was in the habit of catching 40 winks in the morning. Many a war expedition in ancient Kerala was delayed due to lazy roosters. It was an alarming trend).
It was a Sunday and hence the expedition to the lad’s house was further delayed as Velliyammachi had made Appam and Stew. No one dared ignore her Appam and Stew even if the Appam tasted like rancid rubber sheet and the meat in the stew was tougher than MRF tyres. The chicken stew was always made from the meat of the last rooster who refused to crow. (Velliyammachi was a prolific rooster shopper. She bought one every week)
It was many generations later that someone discovered the reason for the toughness of meat in Velliyammachi’s stew. By then it was too late. 1456476 roosters had died in her quest for the perfect Chicken Stew.
Groaning under the heavy breakfast and indigestion the men in the family set off for the virile young mallu turk’s house. The bewildered family of the virile young mallu turk was taken aback to see a group of irate achayans come marching up the driveway (we had driveways back then for kaala vandi’s i.e. bullock carts). The achayans were fuming due to the over spiced stew and grimacing due to the indigestible Appams. It made a terrifying sight. (It was decided enroute that next time they will feed the enemy Velliyammachi’s Appam and Stew as a defensive war maneuver.)
The incensed men of the nubile young mallu lady’s family berated the virile young mallu turks family for raising a rapacious son. The family of the young lad stoutly defended his innocence and called the young lass a charlatan. This enraged the young lass’s family and a war of words ensued. The indigestion didn’t help matters and to cut the narrative short both families decided to cut off ties and vowed never to have anything to do with each other again. (The brave young mallu turk watched the proceeding with great interest from the safety of the cowshed).
After the dust had settled and the cackling of the chickens had died down, the virile young mallu turk was hauled from the cowshed and made to confess his sins at the church. The young lad like a good Christian recounted his escapades er…sins with great sincerity. The Confession went on for over two hours they say. Soon after the confession the priest died of a massive heart attack. (According to local legend his last words were “aarrrgh why did I have to join the priesthood?”)
The young lass were hurriedly married off before every eligible boy’s parents got to know of her er….encounter. (There were different classes of encounters in Kerala those days. This was Class I which was very negligible followed by Class II, Class III etc. I guess you get the idea by now).
The enmity between these two families is over six generations old now.
But the ghost or genes of the two young lovers have come to haunt the hormones of the new generation again. A boy from the young mallu turk’s family ( i.e. my family) is in love with a lass from the nubile young mallu lady’s family. The families are aghast, scandalized and incensed ( not particularly in that order). Elders from both sides refused to give permission for the union.
The two young rebels finally eloped and got married between a rape and a murder. (What I am trying to say is that they got married in court. The registration took place between a murder case and a rape case.)
And thus ended the enmity that was six generations old. Amen.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Communications Failure
How do you explain your profession to a generation that does not know much about Information Technology or IT marketing? I so envy you techies and Marketing/Finance/Facilities people who can explain their profession to this generation with relative ease. I went batty trying to explain the term “Communications” to 70 something Ammachi’s and Peramma’s and various Appans I met at church recently.
Unabashedly curious oldie to me: What are you working as?
Me: I am a Communications Professional.
Oldie: Adhu endhuva? (What’s that?)
Me (after some furious thinking): Well...I help sell the products my company makes.
Oldie: Oh! You are a salesgirl.
Me: No!!!! I strategize and oversee the making of communication material, participate in Trade Shows and …..
Oldie (interrupting): Trade Show?
Me: It’s like an exhibition.
Oldie: So you work in the stalls in exhibitions?
Me: Sort of
Oldie: So you are a Sales girl!
Me: No!!!! I do have to be at the stall, but it is to explain the product to visitors.
Oldie looks at me eyebrows arched and I realize that I had just described the job of a salesgirl.
Me (clenching my teeth): It is difficult to explain Ammachi.
Oldie: Likely story! My grandson is a Kompooter injineer (computer engineer). He repairs computers. (grandson is a software engineer with Infosys)
Me: Is that what he told you?
Oldie (sneering): Yes and he did not have any problems explaining his job like you did.
Me (using grandson’s simplification technique): Ok Ammachi, I am a writer
Oldie: Writer? How do you survive on the salary of a writer?
Me (smiling tightly): I manage Ammachi.
Oldie: You should have studied kompooter injineering like my grandson. But I guess it’s too late for you now.
Me: err...I have got to go. I think Amma is calling me.
Oldie (to another oldie): Poor girl. Hope she gets a boy with a decent job. This is what happens to girls who are no good in studies.
*sigh*
Unabashedly curious oldie to me: What are you working as?
Me: I am a Communications Professional.
Oldie: Adhu endhuva? (What’s that?)
Me (after some furious thinking): Well...I help sell the products my company makes.
Oldie: Oh! You are a salesgirl.
Me: No!!!! I strategize and oversee the making of communication material, participate in Trade Shows and …..
Oldie (interrupting): Trade Show?
Me: It’s like an exhibition.
Oldie: So you work in the stalls in exhibitions?
Me: Sort of
Oldie: So you are a Sales girl!
Me: No!!!! I do have to be at the stall, but it is to explain the product to visitors.
Oldie looks at me eyebrows arched and I realize that I had just described the job of a salesgirl.
Me (clenching my teeth): It is difficult to explain Ammachi.
Oldie: Likely story! My grandson is a Kompooter injineer (computer engineer). He repairs computers. (grandson is a software engineer with Infosys)
Me: Is that what he told you?
Oldie (sneering): Yes and he did not have any problems explaining his job like you did.
Me (using grandson’s simplification technique): Ok Ammachi, I am a writer
Oldie: Writer? How do you survive on the salary of a writer?
Me (smiling tightly): I manage Ammachi.
Oldie: You should have studied kompooter injineering like my grandson. But I guess it’s too late for you now.
Me: err...I have got to go. I think Amma is calling me.
Oldie (to another oldie): Poor girl. Hope she gets a boy with a decent job. This is what happens to girls who are no good in studies.
*sigh*
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Kalyana Ramans and Ramanis
Yesterday was Wedding Number One in our itinerary, after Engagement Number One in Ernakulam. We reached Muvatupuzha around mid morning after the hero of my last post, my Uncle had said a tearful goodbye to us. He had just got the bill for the PC you see.
In a gesture of rare honor that bought a tear to my eye, Jojo sent me the first ever invitation to Yahoo Chat from his new PC which I accepted from my Laptop. Such a good boy.
There was a crisis brewing in the wedding house. The groom-to-be (GTB to keep it short) declared that he would not get married until his Godmother, i.e. my Mom arrived.( His godma was minutes away enroute to his house and the wedding a good 24 hours away. Melodrama is part of the mallu wedding). The declaration worried his parents very much. His Dad was heart broken. He had 100 cases of liquor collected for the wedding you see. ( 50 cases for the pre bachelor party, bachelor party, organizing committee meetings and the wedding and 50 cases incase there was an Income tax raid during the wedding.)
His Mom was heart broken too. This was the single most important day in her last child’s life. From the time he took his first baby steps, she had a dream. She dreamt of her son growing up fast into a sturdy young man, so that she took hitch him around some gals neck and fly off to London, Paris and Rhode Island, where her daughters and a son resided. But the ingrate was not showing any signs of leaving the nest. She was sure she would be stuck in Muvattupuzha for the rest of her life.
Fortunately for them, we reached their house five minutes after GTB had made that awful declaration. The scene of Godmother and Godchild meeting were straight out of Hindi movies.
GTB: Maaa!!
Mom: Betaaa!!!
Me: Barf
Anyways soon after arrival we were immediately closeted for the “organizing committee meeting”. The wedding was high profile and a lot of volunteers were needed. But then my family is not exactly short of hands when there is booze involved. Soon we had a good crowd of volunteers and their classmates too...(in case the cops tried anything funny.)
Now don’t judge us too harshly. Meetings are thirsty affairs, especially since Kerala is quite hot at this time of the year. And mallu heat is not the sissy kinda heat you get in Chennai.( I am not talking about the Mallu Heat you get on CD’s and thatched Talkies.)
Now, my mom is no Don Vito Corleone, but a regular Godmother. I mean, prior to the baptism (naming ceremony) of the child, a male and female relation is appointed as Godfather and Godmother. Godparents are informally responsible for ensuring that the child's religious education is carried out, and for caring for the child should he/she be orphaned (logically this means that the godparents should be young and able bodied). But in Kerala, hierarchy is followed strictly and the oldest and most wizened, closest-to-the-grave-relative is given the honor. (Never mind the explanation I have given in the previous bracket, we mallus are non-conformists) And the appointment of the Godmother/Godfather causes a lot of heartburn for the parents (and hence the declining birthrate of Kerala).
The naming of the baby is also very complex (and by now very famous). The first name is often left to the parent’s choice but the middle name has to include the Christian name of an elder. Almost all the old people and their parents want their name included in the baby’s name. And no matter how many people you accommodate there will always be ill will. So the GTB’s parent took the short cut and included every aged relatives name they could muster. Legend has it that by the time they finished the naming ceremony the Priest fell down exhausted and no priest thereafter was willing to preside over any ceremony involving GTB.
The GTB was named Nitin ( first name) Joseph, Alexander, Philip, Isaac, Francis, Maradona (Dad is a huge fan and insisted), Ajith Wadekar ( mom is a great fan) Kurian, Geevarghese Thomas. J for short. (The priest presiding over his wedding was specially bought in from another district.)
Everything went fine till the Priest started the Nuptial ceremony (the actual wedding ritual).
Priest: Do you Nithin Joseph, Alexander, Philip, Isaac, Francis, Maradona, Ajith Wadekar, Kurian, Geevarghese Thomas take Shiny Marie, Sarah, Elizabeth Mary to be your lawfully wedded wife?
BTB: I do.
Priest: Do you Shiny Marie, Sarah, Elizabeth Mary take Nithin Joseph, Alexander, Philip, Isaac, Francis, Maradona, Ajith Wadekar, Kurian, Geevarghese Thomas to be your lawfully wedded husband.
Bride: Who?????? Er... I mean “I do”.
Priest ( panting): May I have some water please ?
The sermon given by the priest afterwards was rousing and he spoke at length about naming children. (He was also overheard instructing his assistant to make a thorough check on bride and bridegroom's full names before he accepted any further Wedding Mass requests.)
Yours truly was in-charge of decorating the Church and the Reception area with a bunch of volunteers below the drinking age. The famous mallu heat was countered by this ‘committee’ with Naranga Vellam (Lemon Juice) and Ice Cream.
The reception at the grooms home was a grand success. ( basically it means that there were no males left who was sober).
p.s Just read somewhere that since Malayalam has a very komblex phonetic system that makes it difficult for outsiders to understand, it was used for wireless communications in the Indo-Pakistan border. ( Never mind if Subedar Jarnail Singh, Lance Naik Kelkar, Havildaar Pranab Mukherjee and Sepoy Naik, were at the receiving end. The enemy couldn’t decipher it… and that is what matters.)
In a gesture of rare honor that bought a tear to my eye, Jojo sent me the first ever invitation to Yahoo Chat from his new PC which I accepted from my Laptop. Such a good boy.
There was a crisis brewing in the wedding house. The groom-to-be (GTB to keep it short) declared that he would not get married until his Godmother, i.e. my Mom arrived.( His godma was minutes away enroute to his house and the wedding a good 24 hours away. Melodrama is part of the mallu wedding). The declaration worried his parents very much. His Dad was heart broken. He had 100 cases of liquor collected for the wedding you see. ( 50 cases for the pre bachelor party, bachelor party, organizing committee meetings and the wedding and 50 cases incase there was an Income tax raid during the wedding.)
His Mom was heart broken too. This was the single most important day in her last child’s life. From the time he took his first baby steps, she had a dream. She dreamt of her son growing up fast into a sturdy young man, so that she took hitch him around some gals neck and fly off to London, Paris and Rhode Island, where her daughters and a son resided. But the ingrate was not showing any signs of leaving the nest. She was sure she would be stuck in Muvattupuzha for the rest of her life.
Fortunately for them, we reached their house five minutes after GTB had made that awful declaration. The scene of Godmother and Godchild meeting were straight out of Hindi movies.
GTB: Maaa!!
Mom: Betaaa!!!
Me: Barf
Anyways soon after arrival we were immediately closeted for the “organizing committee meeting”. The wedding was high profile and a lot of volunteers were needed. But then my family is not exactly short of hands when there is booze involved. Soon we had a good crowd of volunteers and their classmates too...(in case the cops tried anything funny.)
Now don’t judge us too harshly. Meetings are thirsty affairs, especially since Kerala is quite hot at this time of the year. And mallu heat is not the sissy kinda heat you get in Chennai.( I am not talking about the Mallu Heat you get on CD’s and thatched Talkies.)
Now, my mom is no Don Vito Corleone, but a regular Godmother. I mean, prior to the baptism (naming ceremony) of the child, a male and female relation is appointed as Godfather and Godmother. Godparents are informally responsible for ensuring that the child's religious education is carried out, and for caring for the child should he/she be orphaned (logically this means that the godparents should be young and able bodied). But in Kerala, hierarchy is followed strictly and the oldest and most wizened, closest-to-the-grave-relative is given the honor. (Never mind the explanation I have given in the previous bracket, we mallus are non-conformists) And the appointment of the Godmother/Godfather causes a lot of heartburn for the parents (and hence the declining birthrate of Kerala).
The naming of the baby is also very complex (and by now very famous). The first name is often left to the parent’s choice but the middle name has to include the Christian name of an elder. Almost all the old people and their parents want their name included in the baby’s name. And no matter how many people you accommodate there will always be ill will. So the GTB’s parent took the short cut and included every aged relatives name they could muster. Legend has it that by the time they finished the naming ceremony the Priest fell down exhausted and no priest thereafter was willing to preside over any ceremony involving GTB.
The GTB was named Nitin ( first name) Joseph, Alexander, Philip, Isaac, Francis, Maradona (Dad is a huge fan and insisted), Ajith Wadekar ( mom is a great fan) Kurian, Geevarghese Thomas. J for short. (The priest presiding over his wedding was specially bought in from another district.)
Everything went fine till the Priest started the Nuptial ceremony (the actual wedding ritual).
Priest: Do you Nithin Joseph, Alexander, Philip, Isaac, Francis, Maradona, Ajith Wadekar, Kurian, Geevarghese Thomas take Shiny Marie, Sarah, Elizabeth Mary to be your lawfully wedded wife?
BTB: I do.
Priest: Do you Shiny Marie, Sarah, Elizabeth Mary take Nithin Joseph, Alexander, Philip, Isaac, Francis, Maradona, Ajith Wadekar, Kurian, Geevarghese Thomas to be your lawfully wedded husband.
Bride: Who?????? Er... I mean “I do”.
Priest ( panting): May I have some water please ?
The sermon given by the priest afterwards was rousing and he spoke at length about naming children. (He was also overheard instructing his assistant to make a thorough check on bride and bridegroom's full names before he accepted any further Wedding Mass requests.)
Yours truly was in-charge of decorating the Church and the Reception area with a bunch of volunteers below the drinking age. The famous mallu heat was countered by this ‘committee’ with Naranga Vellam (Lemon Juice) and Ice Cream.
The reception at the grooms home was a grand success. ( basically it means that there were no males left who was sober).
p.s Just read somewhere that since Malayalam has a very komblex phonetic system that makes it difficult for outsiders to understand, it was used for wireless communications in the Indo-Pakistan border. ( Never mind if Subedar Jarnail Singh, Lance Naik Kelkar, Havildaar Pranab Mukherjee and Sepoy Naik, were at the receiving end. The enemy couldn’t decipher it… and that is what matters.)
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
P C Hunt
Today I went on a wild goose chase to buy a PC for my 16-year-old cousin brother Jojo. The hunt began at Ernakulam and ended, panting and gasping for breath somehwere near Kottayam. My Uncle, Jojo’s Dad thought that this would be a good opportunity to learn something about computers, besides like vegetables he was convinced that he would get a better bargain at the next shop. Sometimes the next shop was the adjacent shop while most of the time the next shop was in the next town. The result was some delicious cuisines sampled at various hotels throughout the route but no PC.
Jojo is the youngest of seven children, his eldest sibling is married with kids. The generation gap between father and son was as wide as an Apple II and a MacBook Pro. (that’s many a generations even I know) And that’s why he cleverly managed to rope me in with some novel excuses like “Achchan is a fossil” and “Only you can talk some sense into Achchan’s brainless skull”. He loves his Dad so much you see. And the feeling is mutual.
First stop XYZ Electronics
Uncle to Salesman: We want to buy a computer.
Salesman: Would you like to go in for a Laptop or Desktop?
Uncle: Duh?...ahem you talk to my niece while I hmm...look around and don’t listen to anything my dimwit son says ok?!
Jojo: Dad!!!!!!
Uncle: Keep quite.
Salesman(smirking): Sure.
I watched as my Uncle, his mundu folded up neatly, hands crossed behind him sauntered around. He reached a display of PCs. The salesman behind the counter wearing a mundu and a red Pottu must have looked quite reassuring to my Uncle.
Uncle: What is the difference between this kompooter and that?
Salesman: Intel and AMD Processors Saar.
Uncle( not understanding a word): Oh I see! And what’s the difference between what you just told me?
Salesman : Cost and speed is different saar. Besides a few other differences.
Uncle (persisting): Like what?
Salesman ( as though waiting for the cue ): Well...Intel recently switched over their motherboards from the RDR memory to the DDR memory, which AMD was utilizing. There are three reasons for the swtich blah blah blah blah. Anyone who knows computers will tell you: heat is your enemy. Heat kills processors, plain and simple. The Pentium IV processor has major heat dissipation problems blah blah blah. AMD runs cooler because it's FSB has always been a constant 266MHz, and does not cause problems with DDR memory. The AMD Athlon blah blah blah besides it is priced lower.
Uncle: I see.
He turned smartly before the Salesman could say “Cheque or Cash?” and walked into the Laptop section and peered at the display, soda glasses straddling his nose. He went around one a couple of time like I have seen him do with the cattle he intended to purchase. A smartly dressed salesman appeared next to him.
Salesman: Anything in particular you are looking for?
Uncle (Pointing to a Laptop): what is this thing?
Salesman: It is a Laptop Computer.
Uncle: What is the difference between this and that…‘kompooter’?
Salesman (showing off): Laptop and desktop computers are very similar. They have the same basic hardware, software and operating systems. The primary difference is how their components fit together. Its screen is an integrated part of the unit, as is its keyboard blah blah blah.Unlike Desktop it is much smaller and blah blah blah and it is portable.
Uncle: “Portable??????” What’s that?
Salesman: It can be carried around.
Uncle: Interesting!
Salesman: (scenting a sale): Your son can easily move his Laptop from class to library to the caféteria. It also has DVD player so your son can watch movies too.
Uncle(incensed): Oh ho!!! No son of mine is watching movies in college when he should be studying!!
Salesman ( triumphant smile drying up fast): But... !!!
Jojo(in despair): Dad!!!!
Uncle: Keep quiet! ( turning to me )Let’s go to another shop and see if we can get something that will not corrupt this brainless fellow.
By evening, after going in and out of umpteen shops, my Uncle was elated with the knowledge he had gathered. Jojo and me were very tired and did not want to see a PC or Laptop for the rest of our lives. We also knew all there was to know about Monitors, Processors, Storage Devices, Sound, Graphics and Imaging and the number of Chai Kadaas on the highway and the differences in their tea/coffee brewing styles. And we were yet to buy a PC.
Me: Uncle, you better decide soon or we will have to take a room here. It is getting late.
Uncle: What a good idea!!! Tomorrow we can drive to Trivandrum I have heard you get better computer shops there!
Me: *groan*
Jojo: Zzzzzzzzz
We did finally pick up the PC from that first shop. My by-now-very-knowledgeable Uncle insisted on an AMD processor because...the salesman was so nice and had called him “saar”.
Jojo is the youngest of seven children, his eldest sibling is married with kids. The generation gap between father and son was as wide as an Apple II and a MacBook Pro. (that’s many a generations even I know) And that’s why he cleverly managed to rope me in with some novel excuses like “Achchan is a fossil” and “Only you can talk some sense into Achchan’s brainless skull”. He loves his Dad so much you see. And the feeling is mutual.
First stop XYZ Electronics
Uncle to Salesman: We want to buy a computer.
Salesman: Would you like to go in for a Laptop or Desktop?
Uncle: Duh?...ahem you talk to my niece while I hmm...look around and don’t listen to anything my dimwit son says ok?!
Jojo: Dad!!!!!!
Uncle: Keep quite.
Salesman(smirking): Sure.
I watched as my Uncle, his mundu folded up neatly, hands crossed behind him sauntered around. He reached a display of PCs. The salesman behind the counter wearing a mundu and a red Pottu must have looked quite reassuring to my Uncle.
Uncle: What is the difference between this kompooter and that?
Salesman: Intel and AMD Processors Saar.
Uncle( not understanding a word): Oh I see! And what’s the difference between what you just told me?
Salesman : Cost and speed is different saar. Besides a few other differences.
Uncle (persisting): Like what?
Salesman ( as though waiting for the cue ): Well...Intel recently switched over their motherboards from the RDR memory to the DDR memory, which AMD was utilizing. There are three reasons for the swtich blah blah blah blah. Anyone who knows computers will tell you: heat is your enemy. Heat kills processors, plain and simple. The Pentium IV processor has major heat dissipation problems blah blah blah. AMD runs cooler because it's FSB has always been a constant 266MHz, and does not cause problems with DDR memory. The AMD Athlon blah blah blah besides it is priced lower.
Uncle: I see.
He turned smartly before the Salesman could say “Cheque or Cash?” and walked into the Laptop section and peered at the display, soda glasses straddling his nose. He went around one a couple of time like I have seen him do with the cattle he intended to purchase. A smartly dressed salesman appeared next to him.
Salesman: Anything in particular you are looking for?
Uncle (Pointing to a Laptop): what is this thing?
Salesman: It is a Laptop Computer.
Uncle: What is the difference between this and that…‘kompooter’?
Salesman (showing off): Laptop and desktop computers are very similar. They have the same basic hardware, software and operating systems. The primary difference is how their components fit together. Its screen is an integrated part of the unit, as is its keyboard blah blah blah.Unlike Desktop it is much smaller and blah blah blah and it is portable.
Uncle: “Portable??????” What’s that?
Salesman: It can be carried around.
Uncle: Interesting!
Salesman: (scenting a sale): Your son can easily move his Laptop from class to library to the caféteria. It also has DVD player so your son can watch movies too.
Uncle(incensed): Oh ho!!! No son of mine is watching movies in college when he should be studying!!
Salesman ( triumphant smile drying up fast): But... !!!
Jojo(in despair): Dad!!!!
Uncle: Keep quiet! ( turning to me )Let’s go to another shop and see if we can get something that will not corrupt this brainless fellow.
By evening, after going in and out of umpteen shops, my Uncle was elated with the knowledge he had gathered. Jojo and me were very tired and did not want to see a PC or Laptop for the rest of our lives. We also knew all there was to know about Monitors, Processors, Storage Devices, Sound, Graphics and Imaging and the number of Chai Kadaas on the highway and the differences in their tea/coffee brewing styles. And we were yet to buy a PC.
Me: Uncle, you better decide soon or we will have to take a room here. It is getting late.
Uncle: What a good idea!!! Tomorrow we can drive to Trivandrum I have heard you get better computer shops there!
Me: *groan*
Jojo: Zzzzzzzzz
We did finally pick up the PC from that first shop. My by-now-very-knowledgeable Uncle insisted on an AMD processor because...the salesman was so nice and had called him “saar”.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Operation Eye Balls
After a real nice vacation I think you will all agree that the last thing you want to see in your mail box are spam and mails stripped of malicious attachments! I spent nearly an hour sorting through genuine mails and deleting mails carrying these er...works-of-art. (a.k.a. Virus/Worms/Trojans/Spam.) That is a good hour of billed time I wasted. For God’s sake all you spammers and malicious programmers don’t you have a life? Maybe a girlfriend/boyfriend or a pimple that you wanna squeeze and burst? I guess not... seeing how busy you have been spamming me 24/7.
By now I have wised up and delete all mails with corny subjects like these...
I love you (but the feeling is not mutual dahling)
S**y picture (thanks for pointing it out, else I would have framed and hung it up)
Re: Enquiry (wow! this is the first time I have got a reply to an Enquiry)
Is that your password? ( hmm it does look familiar)
Re: improved (Ah I remember, you were selling Viagra last time, self medicating yourself yeah?)
Re: Valium news (It better be juicy news!)
Re: excel document (so Excel and Word had a love child? Does Bill know about this?)
For gods sake if you really want to infect PC’s and your spam mails read, then why not go for creative “Subjects”? I am more or less resigned to the inevitability of death, taxes and spam, so why not let me help you spammers/malicious programmers for a small fee?
Take a look at the sample "Subject" matter that I have created that will definitely make the receiver read your mails.
Hi, this is me from the next cubicle :) : Guaranteed to be read at the speed of light if recipient is male. Females will read it out of curiosity anyway. (Audio file of fluttering eye lashes can be arranged for an additional charge.)
Saw you in on my floor today,you are so handsome: Mail will read with gleeful look if recipient is male. Females as usual will read it out of curiosity.
Guess who HR was with yesterday night? Pictures attached: Attachments will be opened in record speed.
Shocking!!!! PM misbehaves with J. See attachment. Attachment opening guaranteed with vicarious glee on face even if there is no J in the company.
I am too shy to talk to you hence this mail: Mail reading guaranteed after furtive looks to see if the coast is clear.
Your performance appraisal: Attachment opening guaranteed in zero seconds
Your Manager’s Performance Appraisal Report, careful!: Guaranteed opening with evil grin on face.
Confidential: PL’s browsing history: Attachment forwarding guaranteed to 374343 people even before opening.
Complaints against you from your Reporting Manager: Attachment opening guaranteed after recipient says a brief ‘puja’.
And there is more where this comes from. If any of you creative people are reading this, do get in touch with me. My replies to you always bounce. My services are reasonably priced. Satisfaction guaranteed. And if you don’t want my services, then I will hire a spammer to spam you till you agree to buy.
Disclaimer: Samples shown here will work in IT companies only. For other organizations an additional “research” charge will be levied.
When you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em ;)
By now I have wised up and delete all mails with corny subjects like these...
I love you (but the feeling is not mutual dahling)
S**y picture (thanks for pointing it out, else I would have framed and hung it up)
Re: Enquiry (wow! this is the first time I have got a reply to an Enquiry)
Is that your password? ( hmm it does look familiar)
Re: improved (Ah I remember, you were selling Viagra last time, self medicating yourself yeah?)
Re: Valium news (It better be juicy news!)
Re: excel document (so Excel and Word had a love child? Does Bill know about this?)
For gods sake if you really want to infect PC’s and your spam mails read, then why not go for creative “Subjects”? I am more or less resigned to the inevitability of death, taxes and spam, so why not let me help you spammers/malicious programmers for a small fee?
Take a look at the sample "Subject" matter that I have created that will definitely make the receiver read your mails.
Hi, this is me from the next cubicle :) : Guaranteed to be read at the speed of light if recipient is male. Females will read it out of curiosity anyway. (Audio file of fluttering eye lashes can be arranged for an additional charge.)
Saw you in on my floor today,you are so handsome: Mail will read with gleeful look if recipient is male. Females as usual will read it out of curiosity.
Guess who HR was with yesterday night? Pictures attached: Attachments will be opened in record speed.
Shocking!!!! PM misbehaves with J. See attachment. Attachment opening guaranteed with vicarious glee on face even if there is no J in the company.
I am too shy to talk to you hence this mail: Mail reading guaranteed after furtive looks to see if the coast is clear.
Your performance appraisal: Attachment opening guaranteed in zero seconds
Your Manager’s Performance Appraisal Report, careful!: Guaranteed opening with evil grin on face.
Confidential: PL’s browsing history: Attachment forwarding guaranteed to 374343 people even before opening.
Complaints against you from your Reporting Manager: Attachment opening guaranteed after recipient says a brief ‘puja’.
And there is more where this comes from. If any of you creative people are reading this, do get in touch with me. My replies to you always bounce. My services are reasonably priced. Satisfaction guaranteed. And if you don’t want my services, then I will hire a spammer to spam you till you agree to buy.
Disclaimer: Samples shown here will work in IT companies only. For other organizations an additional “research” charge will be levied.
When you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em ;)
Friday, May 05, 2006
These are a few of my favorite things…
This is a Tag. Name 10 of life's simple pleasures that you like the most and then pick 10 people (you are invited to attempt this tag ) to do the same (I took Mind Curry's open invitation). Try to be original and creative and not to use the things someone else has already used.
Learning something new: I like to learn new stuff and also to learn more about things I love, like cooking and gardening. It is such a pleasure to then try it out and get it right!
The Nilgiri's: These Mountains are a haven to which I escape as often as I can. It is such a pleasure just being there.
Laughing: I like to read humor and laugh with friends over silly stuff like only gals do.
Silence: I love the sound of nothingness save for the chirping of birds.
Kerala: Love the place and going there and walking around in the quite Parambu is a simple but exquisite pleasure.
State of being content: When everything goes well and you feel you have done your best and there is no niggling feeling of something not quite right.
Flowers: I love flowers and I never pluck them. Love to see flowers growing on plants and shaking gently in the wind.
Rains: I love rains, even with it’s squishyness and muddiness and the fact that it deprives me of my evening walks. and the smell of the Earth after the showers is heavenly.
Walking: I love walking and thinking. And sometimes it is creeping tiredness that reminds me that I have to stop.
Swing: I love to ‘swing’ as in sitting on an ‘oonjaal’ and swinging. Can do that non stop. I still have a swing in the house.
Learning something new: I like to learn new stuff and also to learn more about things I love, like cooking and gardening. It is such a pleasure to then try it out and get it right!
The Nilgiri's: These Mountains are a haven to which I escape as often as I can. It is such a pleasure just being there.
Laughing: I like to read humor and laugh with friends over silly stuff like only gals do.
Silence: I love the sound of nothingness save for the chirping of birds.
Kerala: Love the place and going there and walking around in the quite Parambu is a simple but exquisite pleasure.
State of being content: When everything goes well and you feel you have done your best and there is no niggling feeling of something not quite right.
Flowers: I love flowers and I never pluck them. Love to see flowers growing on plants and shaking gently in the wind.
Rains: I love rains, even with it’s squishyness and muddiness and the fact that it deprives me of my evening walks. and the smell of the Earth after the showers is heavenly.
Walking: I love walking and thinking. And sometimes it is creeping tiredness that reminds me that I have to stop.
Swing: I love to ‘swing’ as in sitting on an ‘oonjaal’ and swinging. Can do that non stop. I still have a swing in the house.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Consistently inconsistent
The Tea and Coffee served on Indian Airlines is brewed by expert brewers with ingredients that are checked for quality and freshness. We also take great care to ensure consistency in quality and services in all our sectors.
This was the response that a friend of mine got from the Catering Manager, for a complaint that she filed with Indian Airlines for the weak and insipid Tea served in inflight. I am sure the Catering Manager was being honest.
Head Loader IA: Sir, I am due for promotion.
IA Officer: hmm do you know how to make Tea and Coffee?
Loader: Yes, sir.
IA officer: Ok you are hereby being promoted and transferred to the catering Department. Your new designation will be Tea and Coffee Brewer.
I have noticed that Consistency has been the trademark of IA since my earlier flights in the 80's. It is no mean feat to maintain consistency in service whether in flight or otherwise.
Flight XYZ to Delhi, 1988
Breakfast Menu:
Tasteless Idli/Sambhar/Omelette
Croissant
Jam
Butter
Fruit juice
Luke warm Tea/coffee
Flight XYZ to Delhi, 2006
Breakfast Menu:
Tasteless Idli/Sambhar/ Omelette
Croissant
Jam
Butter
Fruit juice
Luke warm Tea/coffee
That's called Consistency of In-flight Cuisine.
Flight XYZ to Mumbai, 1989
Me: Please ma'am, can I have some water?
IA Air Hostess: No!
Flight XYZ to Mumbai, 2005
Me: Can I have some water please?
IA Hostess: No!
That's called Consistency of In Flight Service.
Flight XYZ to Cochin, 2000
Me: Can I have an Aisle seat please ?
Booking Counter guy: All aisle seats are taken.
Flight XYZ to Cochin, 2004
Me: Can I have an Aisle seat please ?
Booking Counter guy: I told you three years ago that the all the aisle seats have been taken!!!!
That's called Consistency in Ground Service.
And finally:
Flight XYZ from Bangalore to Delhi, April 2006
Announcement over the PA.
Indian airlines Flight IC XYZ from Bangalore to Delhi is delayed due to technical problems. We regret the inconvenience caused to passengers.
Flight XYZ from Delhi to Bangalore, April 2006
Announcement over the PA.
Indian airlines Flight IC XYZ from Delhi to Bangalore is delayed due to late arrival of aircraft. We regret the inconvenience caused to passengers.
Well...you got to excuse them for this one lapse in Consistency. They are human after all.
This was the response that a friend of mine got from the Catering Manager, for a complaint that she filed with Indian Airlines for the weak and insipid Tea served in inflight. I am sure the Catering Manager was being honest.
Head Loader IA: Sir, I am due for promotion.
IA Officer: hmm do you know how to make Tea and Coffee?
Loader: Yes, sir.
IA officer: Ok you are hereby being promoted and transferred to the catering Department. Your new designation will be Tea and Coffee Brewer.
I have noticed that Consistency has been the trademark of IA since my earlier flights in the 80's. It is no mean feat to maintain consistency in service whether in flight or otherwise.
Flight XYZ to Delhi, 1988
Breakfast Menu:
Tasteless Idli/Sambhar/Omelette
Croissant
Jam
Butter
Fruit juice
Luke warm Tea/coffee
Flight XYZ to Delhi, 2006
Breakfast Menu:
Tasteless Idli/Sambhar/ Omelette
Croissant
Jam
Butter
Fruit juice
Luke warm Tea/coffee
That's called Consistency of In-flight Cuisine.
Flight XYZ to Mumbai, 1989
Me: Please ma'am, can I have some water?
IA Air Hostess: No!
Flight XYZ to Mumbai, 2005
Me: Can I have some water please?
IA Hostess: No!
That's called Consistency of In Flight Service.
Flight XYZ to Cochin, 2000
Me: Can I have an Aisle seat please ?
Booking Counter guy: All aisle seats are taken.
Flight XYZ to Cochin, 2004
Me: Can I have an Aisle seat please ?
Booking Counter guy: I told you three years ago that the all the aisle seats have been taken!!!!
That's called Consistency in Ground Service.
And finally:
Flight XYZ from Bangalore to Delhi, April 2006
Announcement over the PA.
Indian airlines Flight IC XYZ from Bangalore to Delhi is delayed due to technical problems. We regret the inconvenience caused to passengers.
Flight XYZ from Delhi to Bangalore, April 2006
Announcement over the PA.
Indian airlines Flight IC XYZ from Delhi to Bangalore is delayed due to late arrival of aircraft. We regret the inconvenience caused to passengers.
Well...you got to excuse them for this one lapse in Consistency. They are human after all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
