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.

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.

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: 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 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 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!

Monday, January 14, 2008

Whatay Monday!

“You should get back to Orkut!” said my friend N with the air of a Nurse about to break the good news to the expectant father.

“It is now completely safe! You can even lock your albums!!!” She finishes off triumphantly.

She looks at me breathlessly, expecting me jump up in the air with a “Yipee!!!!!” and rush to revive my old and now very dead Orkut account.

“That’s nice!” I said with a fake ‘yawn’. “I predict a new breed of Orkut billionaires in the making!”

“What do you mean?” She asks a trifle uneasily.

“Well...” I paused for dramatic effect. “Now all that a serious photo hunter has to do is bribe people in the account holders friends list to download photos. The most premium photos getting premium rates and we have our very own Orkut billionaires!!”

"Will you add me to your friend’s list dee if I get back to Orkut?” I ask earnestly!

“None of my friends will do that!!!” she shrieks. “You are impossible Anju! No wonder they call you Miss Paranoia!” she walks off in a huff.

A few minutes ago, another friend calls up and informs me that N has removed all her photos from her Orkut album and has replaced them with a GIF image that says “Stop checking people’s albums and get a life loser!!

...and her album is still locked!

What a lovely lovely way to start the week! *contended sigh*

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Twelve days of Christmas!

On the First day of Christmas - I got up and yawned and went back to sleep.

On the Second day of Christmas - I managed to haul myself out of bed at 11 am.

On the Third day of Christmas - I was on the road to Kerala.

On the Fourth day of Christmas - I was snoring in Pala.

On the Fifth day of Christmas - I was hauled out from bed and made to say Confession in Church. Unfortunately I had forgotten all my sins and got a severe penance. I will be saying penance for the rest of my life.

On the Sixth day of Christmas - *SNORE*

On the Seventh day of Christmas - My mom threatens to cut my nails if I don’t get up. I was up in a trice, at an approximate acceleration rate of 0 to 100 km/h in 4.2 seconds

On the Eighth day of Christmas - I was decorating a rather robust local tree of unknown lineage, in the tenuous hope that it will pass off as a Christmas tree. It didn’t. It looked like a rather robust tree of unknown lineage trying to pass itself off as a Christmas tree.

On the Ninth day of Christmas - Still no luck with my naadan Christmas tree. It looked the same, though a trifle defiant and with a lot less leaves and err…decidedly ugly.

On the Tenth day of Christmas - Got conned by my bro and cousin bros to watch a new super hit Malayalam movie at home. Two minutes into the movie and I was out of the room in a tearing hurry. It was a severely strainful and overly senti religious movie in which a decidedly Caucasian Joseph was taking his bleached blond pregnant wife Mary on a Poitou Donkey from Inn to Inn inquiring for rooms in chaste Malayalam. The guys thought it was damn funny and laughed like a pack of effeminate male hyenas. But the Donkey carrying the bleached blond Mary was damn cute.

On the Eleventh day of Christmas - I was tasting the various Christmas preparations my aunts made. I told a lot of lies that day. Damn. I should have kept Confession for this day!! The Star of the Day was " Rosamma aunty, your halwa is out of this world." It was. I don't think such horrible halwa exists anywhere on this Earth.

On the Twelfth day of Christmas i.e Christmas Day - Luxuria (extravagance), Gula (gluttony), Avaritia (greed), Acedia (sloth), Ira (wrath), Invidia (envy), and Superbia (pride)


"Twelve days of Christmas" is a Christmas carol.

Sunday, January 06, 2008

It's an ad bad world

Warning: Long post ahead!

It is Sunday and I am watching TV… because I have hurt my toe you see, (poor dear muah muah). And I am thus immobilized or I would have spent a productive day sitting in front of the comp.

My mom knows when I am cornered. And like the adversary that has got his prey in a corner, she is moving in to make the kill…with half a kilo of Beans, half a kilo of Sambhar onions, some coriander leaves and a pod of garlic. She plans to cut all this vegetation sitting next to me while she fills me in on all the naatuu visheshams ( family gossip) that she knows I will ‘have’ to hear now. I oblige by putting on my head phones. Now I can’t hear the TV damn!

But watching TV without audio and the sexy sexy and really sexy Enrique crooning into my ears “Tired of being Sorry” is an extreme extreme test of a gals will power. You want to give all your attention to Enrique! But then the gal in the TV advertisement has just applied some cream and ‘viola’ she has men all over her. Pedicured, Manicured, hair gelled, Savile Row suited pure premium lean beef. All muscle no fat. A feast meant for the Kings for an epicurean cannibal and a feast for the eye for women in general. Enrique dear, forgive me for committing adultery. *sob*

Hypnotized by the sheer richness of the ad, the music and the men, I find myself making a hazy mental note to buy that Cream that looks like it is made up of Strawberry, Fresh Cream and that’s all. But then another voice, the voice of reason that is rarely heard in my head, raises its voice. “Silverine! Concentrate girl! That is just an ad! Don’t waste your money. Buy a non stick pan instead”. No wonder the voice of reason is never heard inside my head!!! With advice like this no self respecting girl will listen you Charlie. Now get your act together and tell me to buy Lingerie or Perfume or another Puppy. But Non stick pan!!! *horrors*

The voice of reason tries again. “Silverine! Concentrate girl! That is just an ad! Don’t waste your money. Buy a *ugh* Perfume instead, though personally I think…”

“Personally I think you should stop at the Perfume!!!”

The voice of reason persists. Methinks God programmed it to play automatically every half an hour in my head. It got to me finally folks and I began thinking. Advertisements have begun to slowly but insidiously erode the “healthy disbelief thingy” we all have in us. We are no longer the alert audience we were once were, who smartly grabbed the remote and switched Channels when the ads came on or who rolled in laughter when we saw the guy brushing his teeth with Pepsodent, or was it Colgate, Anchor or err was it Meswak ??? Anyway who cares! As I was saying, we are no longer the people who rolled in laughter when we saw the guy brushing his teeth with certain toothpaste and breathing out minty fresh breath that rivaled the Westerlies in velocity. Nor do roll our eyes in disbelief when a guy buys a certain Mobile phone in an ad and becomes instantly sexy and attracts women by the dozen, all scantily but tastefully clad and fully made up at some classy Salon.

We are so tired after working at these phoren MNC’s that we sit down in front of the TV like bakra’s at the slaughter house parlor. We don’t have the energy to lift the remote and change Channel or switch ‘Off’ the TV having consumed all our energies putting it “On” in the first place. The TV commercial guys know when they have us cornered and use their superior position to full advantage.

We now look tiredly and resignedly as ads after ads walk past our TV screen screaming “We gotcha suckers. Now see the crap we are dishing out and BELIEVE!!” And soon we are running after that Face Cream, Mascara, Toothpaste, and Shampoo that promises to make us instantly handsome/beautiful, desirable, attractive, sexy, and irresistible to the opposite sex.

I am no exception folks. Right now I am trying to dispose off one Tractor, two bottles of Varnish, a Power Saw, a Horse, a wheel barrow, some Salt and Pepper shakers, a Sprinkler Irrigation System, a Lawn mover and some Dentures that I bought in a fit of hypnotic advertisement induced trance. All of them promised to make me irresistibly attractive to men after I started using their products. The gal using the Lawn Mover in the ad has admiring glances of men from adjoining houses, buildings, footpath and atop trees. So far no luck for me though. Well I cant blame the advertisers actually when I have old Mr Rao, very old Mr Thomas and wheelchair bound Mr Panicker as my neighbors. *sigh* Let alone see, they don’t even have teeth to playfully give a nip or two to irresistible me, just like they show in the Sprinkler System ad.

My brother says I should start my own Ebay. Sbay sounds good don’t you think? It’s settled then. Now all that I need to do is HIRE AN AD AGENCY! You people keep your eyes glued to the TV. Ciao folks. Have a great week!!

Saturday, January 05, 2008

Fun is not a dirty word!

'Menalic'...that’s a name in case you are wondering and not an evil spirit as you all thought! I was introduced to this guy called Menalic Joseph at this party the other day. What kind of name is Menalic? I thought we mallus were bad in naming kids. But it looks like we are getting worse :((

What next? Satirin Kuriakose and Ironin Jose? Or a Annoyic Baby or Horrific George!

hmm I must say this is fun.

How about Goodin, Badin and Uglin?

And Godfatherin and Godmotherin?

And indulge me one last about Youtubic or better still a Rubiccubic?

Man this is fun!!!

No wonder our parents named us Biju, Siju, Giby, Anju, Chinju and Molu!!!

It is fun doing it peoples!!! That’s why!!

New Mom: What shall we name our son?
New Dad: How about "Mousin"? heh heh
New Mom: ROTFLMAO!!!!
New Dad: Careful dear, you have just given birth. Now get up from the floor and get back into bed.

I think we should forgive our folks for wanting to have a bit of fun no! Err not that kind of fun peoples that bought poor Biju, Siju, Giby, Anju, Chinju and Molu into this world, but the above mentioned kinda fun !

Have a nice weekend folks. I am going back to sleep.

Oh yes, you are welcome to have some fun in the comments section with the 'Melanic' genre of naming mallu kids .

Wednesday, January 02, 2008

Jingle bells and Wedding belles

Hola peoples, moi is back, safe and sound from Gerala and none the worse from the experience too. I am brimming with ideas peoples, to ditch my boss. After having attended half a dozen weddings and Engagements I have realized that the quickest way to make the mega bucks in Kerala, is getting into the "Sherwani" business. Everyone wears a Sherwani at a wedding. And everyone is getting married these days. In fact at one wedding I saw the entire cousin junta, some 25 of them wearing Sherwanis with the exact same design!! It was like an invasion of Sherwani clad aliens! Very unnerving I tell you!

Sherwani clad alien: Surrender all you saree, mundu, pant clad Earthlings!!!
His mom: Eda, you pant is falling down!
Sherwani clad alien: Ooops! I will be right back Earthlings.

Don’t judge us too harshly peoples. We are used to good ole’ mundu and pants. But we are trying and will get there soon…with our Sherwani pants intact! Mind you!

Dec 26th is the day the Wedding Season is declared officially open, by the Church. After that it mayhem! It's weddings and weddings everywhere!! The frenzy makes you wonder if the Vatican is going to ban weddings anytime soon!!

Pope (scratching his chin) : hmmm I have been thinking of banning marriages for some time now.
Aide: But your Holiness, that is going against the very grain of the Church's ideology!!
Pope: Shut up you bleddy phool and stop using such big words. It is making me $#@& dizzy!!

Weddings in my little town of Pala, has nothing to do with the bride and bridegroom. Difficult to believe, but as the Orbit White ad says "It is the true!!"

Ungle one: Kuriachcho! Are you coming for the wedding on the 26th afternoon?
Ungle two: Yes I am. Will I see you for the wedding on 26th evening?
Ungle: Absolutely!
Ungle three: And whose weddings are you talking about?
Ungle one (shrugging) : Who knows!
Ungle two: What a stupid question!
Ungle three: My bad.

Weddings are about get togethers and the bride and bridegroom are just a catalyst for the same. And these get togethers are very important social rituals for the older folks, quite like our alumni get togethers, though a trifle different. Only a wee bit different mind you!!!

Ungle one: Are you Chackochchan who failed thrice in 5th standard?
Ungle one:
Do you remember me?
hmmm you look familiar!
Ungle one:
I failed in 4th standard twice remember?
Aiyyo!! How can I ever forget you Thomma! *sob*
: *bawl*

Yes peoples, these 1st standard and 4th standard failed/pass folks also have alumni get togethers during weddings and recall their academic days fondly. (how ever short they were)

Wedding season during this Christmas was very interesting. Our Church had this Christmas Fair organized by some private organizers this year. Lots of stalls, color, noise, hustle bustle and announcements over the loudspeakers at regular intervals. I could almost feel the energy of the Fest in the Church.

Priest: And do you Thomas take Ann to be your lawfully wedded wife?
Loudspeaker: Is your love life over before it begins. Take Dabur Vita X Gold for a youthful love life. Vita X Gold!!!! At stall number 6!
Bridegroom: err I do!
Priest: And do you Ann take Thomas to be your lawfully wedded husband?
Loudspeaker: Suffering from the Itch? Do you feel embarrassed to scratch yourself in public?!! Use Itch guard!!! At Stall number 11!!!
Bride: No!! I mean...Yes!
Priest: $#*&*@ Somebody shut that loudspeaker down while the mass is going on !!!!
Loudspeaker: Come to stall No 7 and enjoy the home made Halwa, Appams, Achchapams and Wine. Rush and get your goodies before they are gone!!
Kapiiyaru: We can’t Achcho, Remember they have paid for the whole day.

The wedding went at breakneck speed after that and quite a few people (mostly males) were seen inquiring from the Fair organizers the viability of setting up tent near their Church during Mass. I think I am going to buy some shares in this company. I see a bright future ahead for them.

p.s If giggling in Church was a punishable offense, then yours truly would be very dead by now…having been condemned to death by hanging by a Jury consisting of her mother alone! :(

After the wedding, everybody went…straight faced…well almost… for the Reception.

I cannot end this post without mentioning a very select group of people at weddings whom I love to bits. This is the Dad junta. Very different from the snoopy “Mom junta” and the "obnoxious vaayi nokkifying guy junta."

Let me define the ‘Dad junta’ for you..

They are usually damn proud of their daughters.

Dad 1: My daughter got a first class this year *hic*
Dad 2: Very good! What is she studying? *hic*
Dad 1: Lemme shee, I shink it is in a college *hic*

They are usually not too proud of their sons.

Dad 1: What is your son doing these days?
Dad 2: Don’t mention his $%#^#&# name in front of me!!!

They usually don’t know how many children they have.

Dad to another Dad: My children are quite good in studies!
His wife (sarcastically) : Really?! And how many do you have?
Dad: err umm 3?
Mom: Guess again.
Dad: 4?
Mom: Well…you have two with me.

The Dad junta will mostly be sleeping, or zoned out in Church.

Amma: Ketto! Mass is over. Time to go!
Dad: uh! Is it? I was merely saying a few prayers for the health of our kids you know!
Amma: So sweet. But the wedding mass is over and there is a funeral mass going on now.

( Disclaimer: Dad if you are reading this, then any resemblance to you in the last definition is purely coincidental and unintentional. Please don't disinherit me.)

p.s just got news that our Parish priest has banned any event at the Church ground during Mass timings. I think a State wide bundh is called for, to protest this Church high handedness!! Does anyone know where I can buy some red flags hmm ?