Independence Day holiday was a day of great languor and tremendous inactivity and the only physical movement I made that day, was get up from the floor every time the dogs pushed me down. It’s been a long time since I watched TV and I had almost forgotten how the contraption worked. So I curled up in bed with a cup of tea and two dogs and several ticks who were actually uninvited but I couldn’t do anything about it as they were my dogs guests. The ticks were very well behaved though.
The Television or TV for short is a wonderful and entertaining device. It shows a lot of commercials, which are sometimes interrupted with a few programmes like soaps, talk shows and News. The commercials being shown these days are just “wow”. Some of the commercials I liked are given below.
Pepsi TV
Kareena Kapoor: Hello viewers, today I shall show you how dumb you all are. *giggle* Have you heard of Pepsi TV? You haven’t? Me too. *giggle* But if you watch TV while sipping Pepsi, you are all dumb.
Priyanka Chopra (smiling coyly at viewers): I second that clever observation Kareena. These people are so dumb.
Pears Pink Soap
Mother: Kids, lets show these dumb people how we dance and sing on a weekday morning when most people are rushing to work and school.
Kids: wheeeee
Dad: And watch me lounge around in white pyjamas expressing amazement at this pansy pink soap while I should be stuck in a traffic jam on the way to office but since I am a model I don’t have to.
Saffola
Wife who spots hubby eating in the park: Look at him hog pani puri while he tells me that he is out jogging!!! Grrr I will teach him a lesson, I will buy Saffola.
Husband carrying wife: Wheee, see I can carry you; you have become so light though you bought the oil for me. Thank you saffola!!!
Nestle Munch
Rani Mukherjee: See me sit on the ship and eat Munch, yummy!! Why does this guy want to stand with me like Leonardo De Caprio and Kate Winslet in Titanic? I will just push him down the ship and then throw him the lifejacket.
Kellogs Cornflakes
Mom: Rahul please show these stupid people that you know Savita maasi’s number by heart because you eat Kellogs Cornflakes.
Rahul: "Twenty eight multiplied by three is eighty four, divided by two is forty two, so the number is 28384242"
Mother: Amazing!!! Come let us sit and eat Kellogs Cornflakes together, chumma just like that.
Krakfin Airhostess Training Institute
Poha Ali Khan: Arey Radha, what are you doing in that nice IT job that you can retire from? Dont you want to be an Air Hostess like me eventhough I am actually an actress and am only doing this for the money?!!
Friend: What to do I am not the daughter of an actress like you!
Poha: So what ? Krakfinn hai naah.
Poha and Friends in Air Hostess Costumes: Look at us... when you pass out of Krankfin you get to wear these cool Air Hostesses clothes and a certificate to boot too. See us pretending to fly with our arms stretched under an aircraft taking off breaking all aviation rules. You too can pretend to fly too if you join Krakfin.
Whirlpool
Ajay Devgun: oops my daughter just dropped Tomato Ketchup on my shirt.
Kajol: Thank you dear daughter, now we will show these people how Whirpool magic will wash and remove stain which can be done by any other washing machine too.
Whirlpool Stain Wash ke six sense. Hotwash aur one-two, one-two handwash mitaye chhey ziddi daag for perfect dhulayi.
Next day getting ready, Ajay Devgun deliberately drops some ketchup on his white shirt. As his shocked wife and daughter ask the reason:
Ajay: Fight scene hai …besides I don't know what else to say this script is so stupid, so just look indulgently at me you two.
Maggi Noodles
Autorickshaw Driver to Priety Zinta: Madam panch rupey aur doge though I dont know why I am asking for more...
Priety Zinta: Will you take Maggi Noodles? Because it is only five rupees and I can go and buy one and give you one instead of giving you five rupees as you asked.
Autorickshaw Driver: Maggi noodle aur panch rupey mein?
Priety Zinta carrying a Maggi packet and singing: Maggi chota pack, bas panch rupey ka only.
Sanjh subah har bacha khaye, lehar mazey ki daud gayi.
Kyon kahin aap bhi bekhabar to nahin. Maggi noodles ka chota pack...dam sirf paanch rupey I-know-I-am-making-no-sense-but-what-the-heck-I-get-paid-to-sing- carrying-this-stupid-packet. I-hope-it-is-not-carcinogenic-but-I-don’t-care-because-I-don’t-eat-it.
Saffola Mom
A football match is in progress on the school grounds. The rain comes down in torrents, but the kids continue the game. A Saffola mom carries an umbrella and runs behind her son like a moron, shielding him from the rain.
The first half of the match was tied at 2-2, since Mom prevented free play with her umbrella, however the Non Mom Team reflecting their brilliance went ahead, pleasing the crowd, then Mom came in between and Sons Team not only equalized but went 2-1 up. There were cheers as we hear Apne bache ki dekhbhaal ke liye aap kitnimushkilein uthaaiyegin? NayaSaffola NutriBlend, jismein hai...internationally research kiya gaya Oryzanol aur Vitamin E. Aapke parivaar ki surakhsha ke liye...Saffola.
Even my dogs groaned and covered their eyes with their paws at this juncture.
There was no second half in this game because by now the message was loud and clear, "avoid playing with boys whose mom uses Saffola"
I swear after this, the ticks jumped onto the remote and switched the TV off. But no one believes me.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Happy Independence Day
Hello peoples and all my readers…(all five of you). Hope you had a nice holiday today and hope you were not too intrigued or disturbed by some people waving a tricolor flag and all that. And in case you are wondering why these people were waving the tricolor flag, today was Independence Day. Today was the day our freedom fighters demanded and got us freedom.
Freedom fighter(FF): Nikal jao hindustan se!!!
Britisher: I say ‘ol chap, you trying to say something or wot?
FF (in English): I said "get lost!!!"
Britisher (shrugging): O.K...fair enough.
Me is been very busy and so have been unable to post besides I am going through a severe cash crunch as the bank has just returned my salary cheque for the nth time. Apparently, 'peanuts' is not an acceptable currency in India :p
Ciao folks, will post soon.
Jai hind!!!
Freedom fighter(FF): Nikal jao hindustan se!!!
Britisher: I say ‘ol chap, you trying to say something or wot?
FF (in English): I said "get lost!!!"
Britisher (shrugging): O.K...fair enough.
Me is been very busy and so have been unable to post besides I am going through a severe cash crunch as the bank has just returned my salary cheque for the nth time. Apparently, 'peanuts' is not an acceptable currency in India :p
Ciao folks, will post soon.
Jai hind!!!
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Over the cuckoos nest
Many years ago, a young mallu Dad toiling away in the gelf was shopping for his return home. He came across a toyshop selling wooden blocks with the numbers 1-10 painted on them.
“And ideal toy to teach your youngster numbers”, the shopkeeper assured him.
The young mallu Dad’s eyes took on a far away look as he visualized his little daughter playing and learning Math and rapidly growing up to be a brilliant Accountant and helping him evade huge amounts in income tax. With such pleasant thoughts in his head and a spring in his step the young mallu Dad bought the wooden learning blocks and took a cab to the airport.
He had a pleasant flight home, except for a strange incessant urge to make a hole under his seat to retrieve the wooden number blocks from the cargo bay and teach a lesson or two to the cabin crew in in-flight hospitality.
After landing home safely (which was a miracle of sorts since he flew Air India), he opened the gift and showed it to his one-year-old daughter. She developed an instant dislike to number five and threw it out of the window. Soon she developed a dislike for number seven and it too met with a similar fate. Then she developed an instant dislike for numbers one, two, three, four, six, eight, nine and ten and they too followed suit…out of the window. The parents of the little gal looked ominously at each other. Two of their worst fears had come true.
1. They would have to pay their Income Tax like other law-abiding citizens.
2. Their daughter didn’t like wooden blocks with numbers painted on them.
That was my rather unfortunate introduction to Mathematics. Since that fateful day, I have had a love hate relationship with this subject…more of hate than love really, like 99% hate and 1% love. The one percent love that I felt towards the subject was when the Math teacher was absent and we could go out and play.
My Math teachers on the other hand, made sure that my foundation of hatred for Math would be strong and deep rooted and that I would never add, subtract, multiply or divide, even to save my own life.
Man with gun: Tell me what is 2 x 2 or I will shoot you dead.
Me: I don’t know.
Man with gun: O.k. I will give you another chance!
Me: 6?
Man with gun: *bang*
It all started with the teacher teaching me Addition. The first sum was quite easy, even though it looked complicated.
1+1=2
Very simple no? The teacher beamed at us and we all beamed back. It looked so easy. And then teacher gave us homework, so that we could practice this ‘easy subject’ at home. When I took the homework home, my Dad’s developed an instant dislike towards my math’s teacher. My homework was:
Add 56455675478 and 12907563
Next day, the teacher taught us multiplication. And my very first sum was:
1x1=1
Very simple no? The teacher beamed at us and we all beamed back, the suckers that we were. It looked so easy!! The homework this time was:
5347585 x 3366
My Dad cursed fluently and my mom had to physically restrain him from calling a “bhai’ in Mumbai and putting a ‘supari’on the teacher.
Next I learnt Division. The first sum went thus:
1/1 = 1Quotient Remainder 0
Very simple no? The teacher beamed at us and we didn’t beam back… we looked uneasily at each other, we had learnt our lessons by now and it definitely wasn’t 'Division'. That day I took my homework to my neighbor’s house and left it there for safekeeping. As a precocious child I knew that having a jailbird for a father would damage me for life. Besides a little girl needs her Dad...to pay her bills when she will not be a little girl anymore. Even at that age I was so mature and farsighted.
After my first Math teacher, many other Math teachers came into my life and left, wringing their hands and gnashing their teeth in despair ( because corporal punishment was banned in school). Math remained an enigma to me and I was the only problem no Math teacher could ever solve. And it is because of the combined effort of these never-say-die Math teachers that I am, where I am today...an English graduate and proud of it too.
Thank you all ye Math teachers.
“And ideal toy to teach your youngster numbers”, the shopkeeper assured him.
The young mallu Dad’s eyes took on a far away look as he visualized his little daughter playing and learning Math and rapidly growing up to be a brilliant Accountant and helping him evade huge amounts in income tax. With such pleasant thoughts in his head and a spring in his step the young mallu Dad bought the wooden learning blocks and took a cab to the airport.
He had a pleasant flight home, except for a strange incessant urge to make a hole under his seat to retrieve the wooden number blocks from the cargo bay and teach a lesson or two to the cabin crew in in-flight hospitality.
After landing home safely (which was a miracle of sorts since he flew Air India), he opened the gift and showed it to his one-year-old daughter. She developed an instant dislike to number five and threw it out of the window. Soon she developed a dislike for number seven and it too met with a similar fate. Then she developed an instant dislike for numbers one, two, three, four, six, eight, nine and ten and they too followed suit…out of the window. The parents of the little gal looked ominously at each other. Two of their worst fears had come true.
1. They would have to pay their Income Tax like other law-abiding citizens.
2. Their daughter didn’t like wooden blocks with numbers painted on them.
That was my rather unfortunate introduction to Mathematics. Since that fateful day, I have had a love hate relationship with this subject…more of hate than love really, like 99% hate and 1% love. The one percent love that I felt towards the subject was when the Math teacher was absent and we could go out and play.
My Math teachers on the other hand, made sure that my foundation of hatred for Math would be strong and deep rooted and that I would never add, subtract, multiply or divide, even to save my own life.
Man with gun: Tell me what is 2 x 2 or I will shoot you dead.
Me: I don’t know.
Man with gun: O.k. I will give you another chance!
Me: 6?
Man with gun: *bang*
It all started with the teacher teaching me Addition. The first sum was quite easy, even though it looked complicated.
1+1=2
Very simple no? The teacher beamed at us and we all beamed back. It looked so easy. And then teacher gave us homework, so that we could practice this ‘easy subject’ at home. When I took the homework home, my Dad’s developed an instant dislike towards my math’s teacher. My homework was:
Add 56455675478 and 12907563
Next day, the teacher taught us multiplication. And my very first sum was:
1x1=1
Very simple no? The teacher beamed at us and we all beamed back, the suckers that we were. It looked so easy!! The homework this time was:
5347585 x 3366
My Dad cursed fluently and my mom had to physically restrain him from calling a “bhai’ in Mumbai and putting a ‘supari’on the teacher.
Next I learnt Division. The first sum went thus:
1/1 = 1Quotient Remainder 0
Very simple no? The teacher beamed at us and we didn’t beam back… we looked uneasily at each other, we had learnt our lessons by now and it definitely wasn’t 'Division'. That day I took my homework to my neighbor’s house and left it there for safekeeping. As a precocious child I knew that having a jailbird for a father would damage me for life. Besides a little girl needs her Dad...to pay her bills when she will not be a little girl anymore. Even at that age I was so mature and farsighted.
After my first Math teacher, many other Math teachers came into my life and left, wringing their hands and gnashing their teeth in despair ( because corporal punishment was banned in school). Math remained an enigma to me and I was the only problem no Math teacher could ever solve. And it is because of the combined effort of these never-say-die Math teachers that I am, where I am today...an English graduate and proud of it too.
Thank you all ye Math teachers.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Simply single
"Sex after marriage is so boring yaar" lamented a married gal in my close friend’s circle. Apparently it was quite hot and happening when she and her former fiancé (now hubby) were going steady. "The thought of getting caught and doing it on the sly made it so exciting, now it is soooo boring" she said rather glumly. These random outbursts on the love life problems of married friends usually leave us single gals clueless. Since none of us are ‘experienced’ in the department, we are unable to give advice except look at her like we look at the Auditor when he talks about 'Hedge Funds' ( wots that??????)
"er...why don’t you do it on the sly then?" I said, having not a clue to what I should say, but if I don’t say anything then I am labelled a "cold uncaring bitch*".
She looks at me like the Auditor has just told her that the government has raised Income Tax levels to 50%.
"Are you crazy???" she shrieked shrilly, making the ear wax in my ear splatter on the wall and a spider like crack to appear on my other single friends eyeglasses. (It made a pretty pattern though)
It is at times like these that I wish I had shut my mouth like a cold uncaring bitch*. Apparently I am not hot and happening in the “sex advice” circuit. What do you expect when you ask a single about sex. It’s like asking a doctor about appendix; he knows its there but doesn’t know what it is all about.
Anyways, it turned out that my married friend PK was just musing aloud and we were supposed to make sympathetic noises like “how sad” and "poor baby" and "buy a new dress, you will feel better" etc.
So I goofed up. (note to self- next time restrict your advice to Income Tax and things you know about like System Architecture but at no point of time give advice about sex since the only sex you know about is that you are a female)
Which brings me to another problem of having married friends. Every problem on Earth from global warming to India’s fiscal deficit is because of hubby’s raging hormones. So when she calls on a Monday morning, please forgive me if I cringe and make a dash for the door. Soon after a hearty, today-is-Monday-so-mom-made-her-best-breakfast, you do not want to hear about your pals bedroom antics do you? Apart from losing your breakfast you also lose your appetite for lunch. (Hint-Girls are bad narrators)
She: I don’t feel like going to work today because of you-know-what-happened-yesterday-night! *yawn*
Me (praying): *Almighty God please spare me the details*
(aloud) So why you telling me all this???
She ( annoyed): I listen to all your grumbles!!!!
Me: Having a bad hair day is not exactly in the same league as your er…complaint is it?
She: *hmph*
Then there is yet another problem of having close married gal friends....you get to hear a rather graphic first hand account of her ‘first night’...whether you like it or not. Soon after the wedding, honeymoon etc, the girls meet up at some restaurant and the not-at-all-coy and shy newly wed bride will bare all. The look on the single gals faces during the narration is rather interesting. I would describe it as a cross between witnessing a gory accident and another gorier accident. (Girls are bad narrators I told you!).
So if you see a group of girls collectively throwing up outside a restaurant you know what happened. And if you see the only one in the group sitting smug with a *I am getting back at you for being single while I am now a married old hag* look, then you know who the newly wed bride is.
I have now sworn off marriage. I was always bad at acrobatics, aerobatics and complicated Yoga postures. So marriage is definitely ruled out in my scheme of things.
(Disclaimer: *‘Bitch’ is an affectionate term used liberally amongst us gals. Guys are strongly advised against using it on their female and male acquaintances. This writer will not be responsible for the loss of your limbs, sex life and manhood. )
"er...why don’t you do it on the sly then?" I said, having not a clue to what I should say, but if I don’t say anything then I am labelled a "cold uncaring bitch*".
She looks at me like the Auditor has just told her that the government has raised Income Tax levels to 50%.
"Are you crazy???" she shrieked shrilly, making the ear wax in my ear splatter on the wall and a spider like crack to appear on my other single friends eyeglasses. (It made a pretty pattern though)
It is at times like these that I wish I had shut my mouth like a cold uncaring bitch*. Apparently I am not hot and happening in the “sex advice” circuit. What do you expect when you ask a single about sex. It’s like asking a doctor about appendix; he knows its there but doesn’t know what it is all about.
Anyways, it turned out that my married friend PK was just musing aloud and we were supposed to make sympathetic noises like “how sad” and "poor baby" and "buy a new dress, you will feel better" etc.
So I goofed up. (note to self- next time restrict your advice to Income Tax and things you know about like System Architecture but at no point of time give advice about sex since the only sex you know about is that you are a female)
Which brings me to another problem of having married friends. Every problem on Earth from global warming to India’s fiscal deficit is because of hubby’s raging hormones. So when she calls on a Monday morning, please forgive me if I cringe and make a dash for the door. Soon after a hearty, today-is-Monday-so-mom-made-her-best-breakfast, you do not want to hear about your pals bedroom antics do you? Apart from losing your breakfast you also lose your appetite for lunch. (Hint-Girls are bad narrators)
She: I don’t feel like going to work today because of you-know-what-happened-yesterday-night! *yawn*
Me (praying): *Almighty God please spare me the details*
(aloud) So why you telling me all this???
She ( annoyed): I listen to all your grumbles!!!!
Me: Having a bad hair day is not exactly in the same league as your er…complaint is it?
She: *hmph*
Then there is yet another problem of having close married gal friends....you get to hear a rather graphic first hand account of her ‘first night’...whether you like it or not. Soon after the wedding, honeymoon etc, the girls meet up at some restaurant and the not-at-all-coy and shy newly wed bride will bare all. The look on the single gals faces during the narration is rather interesting. I would describe it as a cross between witnessing a gory accident and another gorier accident. (Girls are bad narrators I told you!).
So if you see a group of girls collectively throwing up outside a restaurant you know what happened. And if you see the only one in the group sitting smug with a *I am getting back at you for being single while I am now a married old hag* look, then you know who the newly wed bride is.
I have now sworn off marriage. I was always bad at acrobatics, aerobatics and complicated Yoga postures. So marriage is definitely ruled out in my scheme of things.
(Disclaimer: *‘Bitch’ is an affectionate term used liberally amongst us gals. Guys are strongly advised against using it on their female and male acquaintances. This writer will not be responsible for the loss of your limbs, sex life and manhood. )
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Ideas for selling
Been very busy these days. In fact I am so busy that I am giving the bees on the tree next door a massive complex. Busy as a bee may soon be replaced with 'busy as silverine' *sigh*
Trying to sell our products across the globe is an interesting and challenging thing to do. The HSBC ad puts it accross so neatly.“Different people, Different Perspective” says the ad. So true!!!
My Regional Marketing Manager (RMM) for Africa has a lot of ideas, though he is not able to put his finger on it.
RMM: Miss, selling in Africa is easy. All you need to do is make simple communication material.
Me: That sounds easy!
RMM: No high funda English!
Me: Fine.
RMM: No, big words
Me: I will remember that.
RMM: No long sentences
Me: Ok
RMM: And very less words.
Me: How about the picture of the product next to a Zebra?
RMM: What a brilliant idea!!!
The Marketing Manager for South East Asia, Mr. W has different demands.
Mr: W: Pithy (pretty) gals next to product ok?
Me: Ok!
Mr: W: Pithy gals must wear pithy dress ok?
Me: Ok
Mr: W: Pithy gals smile odee (all the) time ok?
Me: Ok!
Mr. W sure knows his region well. It is such a delight working for him (no offence meant to anyone)
The long suffering marketing guy in Europe is a stiff upper lip character. Before he comes down for meetings, the housekeeping staff can be seen furiously cleaning the best bone china and silver cutlery. I spend a week before his arrival trying to lift the cup from the bone china saucer with my pinkie extended and practice the stiff upper lip technique. We shall call him Mr. S
Mr. S: Good morning Miss. How do you do.
Me: How do you do.
Mr. S: It wouldn’t be intemperate for me to propound an amendment to the communication strategy a trifle for the coming season, would it?
Me: You mean, we need to make new ads?
Mr. S: Precisely!
Me: Do we have any new features in our products that we can highlight?
Mr. S: Oh good lord no!
Me: Any price cuts?
Mr. S: Heavens! Absolutely not!!
Me: Then we shall take a ‘we are superior’ attitude for our new ad campaign.
Mr. S: (placing the cup delicately on the saucer): Excellent!
I take back what I just said about communication being a challenge. It is a piece of cake, served with the right cutlery you see ;)
Trying to sell our products across the globe is an interesting and challenging thing to do. The HSBC ad puts it accross so neatly.“Different people, Different Perspective” says the ad. So true!!!
My Regional Marketing Manager (RMM) for Africa has a lot of ideas, though he is not able to put his finger on it.
RMM: Miss, selling in Africa is easy. All you need to do is make simple communication material.
Me: That sounds easy!
RMM: No high funda English!
Me: Fine.
RMM: No, big words
Me: I will remember that.
RMM: No long sentences
Me: Ok
RMM: And very less words.
Me: How about the picture of the product next to a Zebra?
RMM: What a brilliant idea!!!
The Marketing Manager for South East Asia, Mr. W has different demands.
Mr: W: Pithy (pretty) gals next to product ok?
Me: Ok!
Mr: W: Pithy gals must wear pithy dress ok?
Me: Ok
Mr: W: Pithy gals smile odee (all the) time ok?
Me: Ok!
Mr. W sure knows his region well. It is such a delight working for him (no offence meant to anyone)
The long suffering marketing guy in Europe is a stiff upper lip character. Before he comes down for meetings, the housekeeping staff can be seen furiously cleaning the best bone china and silver cutlery. I spend a week before his arrival trying to lift the cup from the bone china saucer with my pinkie extended and practice the stiff upper lip technique. We shall call him Mr. S
Mr. S: Good morning Miss. How do you do.
Me: How do you do.
Mr. S: It wouldn’t be intemperate for me to propound an amendment to the communication strategy a trifle for the coming season, would it?
Me: You mean, we need to make new ads?
Mr. S: Precisely!
Me: Do we have any new features in our products that we can highlight?
Mr. S: Oh good lord no!
Me: Any price cuts?
Mr. S: Heavens! Absolutely not!!
Me: Then we shall take a ‘we are superior’ attitude for our new ad campaign.
Mr. S: (placing the cup delicately on the saucer): Excellent!
I take back what I just said about communication being a challenge. It is a piece of cake, served with the right cutlery you see ;)
Friday, July 21, 2006
Bloody B'gers
As of Monday, I have been officially pronounced a terrorist by the Indian government and my blog has been blocked. Now, my teachers had predicted this long time back so my family and friends were not very surprised.
Teacher: I tell you Mr. Dad your daughter is showing all signs of becoming an anti social element!!!
Dad: How can you say that based on one incident? She pulled that girl’s hair only 50 times!!! How can you be so biased???
Teacher (whispering): Look at her!!! She sits in front of the computer the whole day.
I am having severe withdrawal symptoms from not being able to read my favorite b***s. Yes dear reader, blog has become a four letter word now and hence forth I will stick to the word B. According to the Indian Government, all the crimes perpetrated in this world is because of B and all B’gers are criminals. Now you can add B'ger in your long list of cuss words.
Boss: Lick my boots clean if you want to keep your job cretin.
Employee:(muttering to himself): "You are a bloody B’ger!!!"
(loudly) Sure where do I start, from the heel or the toe boss?
Now my dear peoples you must all be wondering how a blog can help perpetrate terrorist acts?! Here’s how:
Terrorist: Baas the Indian intelligence people are everywhere. I am unable to even burst a fire cracker during Diwali *sob*
Boss: Koi bath nahin, write a blog!
Terrorist: How will it help baas?
Boss: When they are busy trying to decipher your post, we will sneak out and strike at will Ha Ha Ha Ha
Terrorist You are a genius baas!! What shall I write?
Boss: Write any nonsense you want ...who cares!
In the meantime our terrorist, like an obedient lackey goes and writes a blog at blogspot to fool the Inteligence Agencies into thinking that he is writing something intelligent.
Mere sapnon ke rani kab aayegi thu
Aaye ruth mastani kab ayegi thu
Beethi jaye zindgani kab ayegi thu
Chali aa thu chali aa.
He gets four comments:
IB said
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
RAW said
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ISI said
Amazing post!
Anu Malik said
Nice song!
Terrorist: You are a genius bass!!! It works!
Boss: Jabse maine Blogspot apnaya, mera wazan bahuth kam ho gaya aur mein bahut successful ho gaya hun. Thank you Blogspot. Aap bhi aajma ke dekhiye naah!!
Teacher: I tell you Mr. Dad your daughter is showing all signs of becoming an anti social element!!!
Dad: How can you say that based on one incident? She pulled that girl’s hair only 50 times!!! How can you be so biased???
Teacher (whispering): Look at her!!! She sits in front of the computer the whole day.
I am having severe withdrawal symptoms from not being able to read my favorite b***s. Yes dear reader, blog has become a four letter word now and hence forth I will stick to the word B. According to the Indian Government, all the crimes perpetrated in this world is because of B and all B’gers are criminals. Now you can add B'ger in your long list of cuss words.
Boss: Lick my boots clean if you want to keep your job cretin.
Employee:(muttering to himself): "You are a bloody B’ger!!!"
(loudly) Sure where do I start, from the heel or the toe boss?
Now my dear peoples you must all be wondering how a blog can help perpetrate terrorist acts?! Here’s how:
Terrorist: Baas the Indian intelligence people are everywhere. I am unable to even burst a fire cracker during Diwali *sob*
Boss: Koi bath nahin, write a blog!
Terrorist: How will it help baas?
Boss: When they are busy trying to decipher your post, we will sneak out and strike at will Ha Ha Ha Ha
Terrorist You are a genius baas!! What shall I write?
Boss: Write any nonsense you want ...who cares!
In the meantime our terrorist, like an obedient lackey goes and writes a blog at blogspot to fool the Inteligence Agencies into thinking that he is writing something intelligent.
Mere sapnon ke rani kab aayegi thu
Aaye ruth mastani kab ayegi thu
Beethi jaye zindgani kab ayegi thu
Chali aa thu chali aa.
He gets four comments:
IB said
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
RAW said
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ISI said
Amazing post!
Anu Malik said
Nice song!
Terrorist: You are a genius bass!!! It works!
Boss: Jabse maine Blogspot apnaya, mera wazan bahuth kam ho gaya aur mein bahut successful ho gaya hun. Thank you Blogspot. Aap bhi aajma ke dekhiye naah!!
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Tiny Feats
My cousin sister's little daughter was attending her very first Interview for a seat in Nursery, at the XYZ Convent school, a school that has the distinction of churning out some really good girls and some really bad examples like me. So it was with utmost concern for my niece, that I refused to accompany them for the interview. Of course I didn’t tell them why, but with a record a mile long at this very institution, I didn’t think anyone related to me would be allowed within a mile of its hallowed walls.
It all started with my very first interview here, many years ago.
Sister: What is your name?
Me: I won’t tell you.
Mom: *gasp*
Dad: Ha! Ha! Ha….hum? er…sorry.
Sister: I will give you a Lollypop if you tell me your name.
Me: Yech, I hate lollypop.
Mom: *gasp*
Dad: *guffaw*
By the time the Interview was over, my mom’s face was an ashen color and Dad’s was a robust red from trying to control laughter. Anyways...due to the several rosaries recited by my Mom and her sisters on my behalf I got in and was put in Ms F’s class. My class teacher Miss F was a sweetheart, fresh out of college, brimming with confidence and a teachers training certificate to boot. She didn't last long.
Teacher: Girls please take out your coloring books!
Girl 2: Did you see the circus?
Girl 3: No
Girl 2: There was a big elephant.
Teachers: Girl, please please take out your coloring books .
Girl 2: And there was a joker too.
Girl 4: Really?
Girl 2: Yes and horses too.
Teacher: Girls *sob* please *sob* take out your books *sob*
Girl 1: I am going to ask my daddy to take me to the circus
Girl 2: And they have Ice Cream too.
Girl 3: Do they have dancing Zebras too?
Teacher ( banging her head on the table):Waaaaaaaah!!!
Miss F left, scarred for life, vowing never to teach kindergarten girls again. She joined the Nursery Section of the boy’s school next door where she was reportedly very happy.
The Nursery section is a separate enclosed area with its own playground, and a small Zoo with a sad looking peacock as its one and only incumbent. Its manliness, the long and colorful tail was stripped to the butt by determined little girls trying to catch him by the tail. The zoo was once populated with various animals that did not figure in the Endangered Species List like rabbits, budgerigars, pigeons, a crow etc. Alas, this too didn't last very long.
Girl 5: Miss, can I go see the birds?
New Teacher: Ok dear!
Girl 5 (coming back after 5 seconds): *sob* they ran away.
Teacher: Oh my God what did you do???
Girl 5: I took them for a walk *sniff*
Girl 6: Miss the fish in the tank is swimming funny!
New Teacher: Oh my God now what happened?
Girl 5: *snifff* I was feeding the fish that’s all.
New Teacher: What did you give it dear?
Girl 6: My lunch *bawl*
School Maid: Miss you had better come out see this, someone is throwing the rabbits down the slide.
New Teacher: *swoon*
After this incident the Zoo was put on the Gravely Endangered list of Zoos by the school management and we got a new teacher Miss T. Miss T lasted one whole period.
Miss T: Ok girls, I am going to be very strict and I will take no nonsense from any of you!
Girl : What is nonsense?
Miss T: er…lets learn to count today, take out your numbers book.
Girl : What is nonsense?
Miss T: Now Pinky, don’t ask silly questions and take out your number book.
Girl : What is a silly question?
Miss T: Shut up!!!
Girl : *sob*
After Miss T, a long line of fresh inexperienced young wannabe teachers came brimming with confidence and went brimming with despair, battle scarred and much wiser from the experience. With moiself involved in more than one escapade mentioned above, you can understand my reluctance to be seen anywhere in the vicinity of the school. It was with relief that I heard that my niece had got a seat in the school. But my happiness was cut short when my cousin sister told me that my niece had blurted out that her aunt was an ex student of the school.
To which, Sister turned to her and said smartly “Really? Well let’s see if we can do better with you !”
It all started with my very first interview here, many years ago.
Sister: What is your name?
Me: I won’t tell you.
Mom: *gasp*
Dad: Ha! Ha! Ha….hum? er…sorry.
Sister: I will give you a Lollypop if you tell me your name.
Me: Yech, I hate lollypop.
Mom: *gasp*
Dad: *guffaw*
By the time the Interview was over, my mom’s face was an ashen color and Dad’s was a robust red from trying to control laughter. Anyways...due to the several rosaries recited by my Mom and her sisters on my behalf I got in and was put in Ms F’s class. My class teacher Miss F was a sweetheart, fresh out of college, brimming with confidence and a teachers training certificate to boot. She didn't last long.
Teacher: Girls please take out your coloring books!
Girl 2: Did you see the circus?
Girl 3: No
Girl 2: There was a big elephant.
Teachers: Girl, please please take out your coloring books .
Girl 2: And there was a joker too.
Girl 4: Really?
Girl 2: Yes and horses too.
Teacher: Girls *sob* please *sob* take out your books *sob*
Girl 1: I am going to ask my daddy to take me to the circus
Girl 2: And they have Ice Cream too.
Girl 3: Do they have dancing Zebras too?
Teacher ( banging her head on the table):Waaaaaaaah!!!
Miss F left, scarred for life, vowing never to teach kindergarten girls again. She joined the Nursery Section of the boy’s school next door where she was reportedly very happy.
The Nursery section is a separate enclosed area with its own playground, and a small Zoo with a sad looking peacock as its one and only incumbent. Its manliness, the long and colorful tail was stripped to the butt by determined little girls trying to catch him by the tail. The zoo was once populated with various animals that did not figure in the Endangered Species List like rabbits, budgerigars, pigeons, a crow etc. Alas, this too didn't last very long.
Girl 5: Miss, can I go see the birds?
New Teacher: Ok dear!
Girl 5 (coming back after 5 seconds): *sob* they ran away.
Teacher: Oh my God what did you do???
Girl 5: I took them for a walk *sniff*
Girl 6: Miss the fish in the tank is swimming funny!
New Teacher: Oh my God now what happened?
Girl 5: *snifff* I was feeding the fish that’s all.
New Teacher: What did you give it dear?
Girl 6: My lunch *bawl*
School Maid: Miss you had better come out see this, someone is throwing the rabbits down the slide.
New Teacher: *swoon*
After this incident the Zoo was put on the Gravely Endangered list of Zoos by the school management and we got a new teacher Miss T. Miss T lasted one whole period.
Miss T: Ok girls, I am going to be very strict and I will take no nonsense from any of you!
Girl : What is nonsense?
Miss T: er…lets learn to count today, take out your numbers book.
Girl : What is nonsense?
Miss T: Now Pinky, don’t ask silly questions and take out your number book.
Girl : What is a silly question?
Miss T: Shut up!!!
Girl : *sob*
After Miss T, a long line of fresh inexperienced young wannabe teachers came brimming with confidence and went brimming with despair, battle scarred and much wiser from the experience. With moiself involved in more than one escapade mentioned above, you can understand my reluctance to be seen anywhere in the vicinity of the school. It was with relief that I heard that my niece had got a seat in the school. But my happiness was cut short when my cousin sister told me that my niece had blurted out that her aunt was an ex student of the school.
To which, Sister turned to her and said smartly “Really? Well let’s see if we can do better with you !”
Saturday, July 08, 2006
P C Clinic
Last Saturday my PC suddenly stopped working. Now this was a bad start to the weekend for poor me who connects with all her far flung useless friends on Saturdays to listen to their boyfriend/hubby/broken nails/PMS woes on the Yahoo messenger. Chatting with four gals at the same time can have some interesting effects.
Friend 1: My BF wants me to get a crew cut.
Me: Cucumber slices are great for it.
Friend 2: I have dark circles under my eye
Me: Tell your BF to go to hell yaar
Friend 1: You mean cucumber slices are great for a crew cut?
Friend 2: Will it help?
Me: oops wrong window.
Anyways, I checked my PC power connection, cabling, my hair, nail polish and even my Horoscope and whatever else a non technical person like me checks when their PCs won’t start. Everything looked fine, but the damn thing wouldn’t start!! I even said some nice encouraging words to coax it to start .
Me: Nice PC, good PC if you start like a good machine I promise I will get you a bigger hard disk or Ram or er… whatever else pleases you
PC: *silence*
Me: $$%$#^&* I swear I will replace you with a Lenovo! grrrrr
Now don’t look at me in horror folks. We all know how desperate people get when their PC doesn’t work. Heck it has made some people do impossible things like… “pray” for instance! So I said a small prayer over it, but either Gods Inbox was full or He had become an atheist or He was deliberately ignoring me. *sigh*
It was then I remembered “PC DOC”, “The Friendly Neighborhood PC Repairman” who had recently set up, P C Clinic” in the neighborhood approximately 20 kilometers from my neighborhood. His impressive power point presentation had Superman, Tarzan, Bill Gates and even Saddam Hussein waxing eloquent about his services. In the last slide of the presentation, Saddam looks you in the eye and says “Call PC Doc or else…..!!!” Very convincing. His extensive services covered computer peripherals too like spider webs, cockroaches, rodents, mother-in-laws etc.
“Call me PC Doc” he had said after the ppt “and remember to call PC Doc whenever your PC is not in good health”. PC Doc was in my house before I could even put the phone down. I was impressed. He wore a white lab coat and had two ‘interns’ and a suitcase with him.
PC Doc had a “Ah! A girl!!! This is going to be a piece of cake.” kind of look.
Intern No 1 had an “I hope he pays me for putting on this damn lab coat and standing around like a fool” kind of look.
Intern No 2 had a “he is still to pay me for standing in as Bill Gates at that sweet old lady’s house” kind of look.
And I had a “Wow I am so impressed!” kind of look.
To which the PC Doc sported a “It’s official, we have a sucker in our hands” kind of look.
PC Doc slid under the table after some complicated contortions to examine his ‘patient’, straightened up and faced me with a grave expression. I had this horrible sinking feeling, like that moment in the movies when the doctor gives the horrible news to the patient that he doesn’t have a medical degree.
PC Doc ( very seriously): Miss you had better sit down.
Me ( turning pale): What is wrong PC Doc?
(At this point of time I remembered the horrible tragedy of my friend Rita, whose CPU fell into the Piranha Tank at the PC Clinic and came out an empty shell. Poor PC Doc was more heartbroken than Rita when he returned the empty shell.)
PC Doc( gravely): I’m afraid the news is not good. The examination confirms that your PC is in the late stages of Hard Disk damage.
Me: Oh my God!!
PC Doc ( even more gravely):Unfortunately, there is no question about the results. You can take a second opinion but it will only prolong the inevitable.
Me: Inevitable?
PC Doc: Yes. I am afraid you will have to buy a new Hard Disk. I can buy your old damaged one for fifty rupees. It’s the best deal you will ever get.
Me (in a small voice): O.k...
Just then my brother strolled in and wanted to know what was going on and why these guys were dressed so funnily. I told him the tragic tale of my PC . He went around the CPU and flicked on a switch. The PC roared to life when he started it. Inching towards the door he said “ um..er… well….when you were having breakfast I..umm…ahem switched off the CPU ..it was just a joke you see…hey what are you doing????? Put down that keyboard I said!!!!”
*CRACK*
The keyboard missed him narrowly, but I swear I will get him next time. My room looked like an alphabet soup spill zone. I looked around for PC Doc but he had apparently had to leave in a tremendous hurry.
Anyways I have just got a consultation bill from PC Clinic and if I work non stop for 24 hours for the next 15 years and live on bread and water I might just be able to clear his bill. I am now working evenings at KFC and during my coffee breaks at KFC, I go to Kairalee Mess and wait at the tables. Every penny counts you see.
See you folks, I will miss you all, keep blogging. See you in fifteen years.
Friend 1: My BF wants me to get a crew cut.
Me: Cucumber slices are great for it.
Friend 2: I have dark circles under my eye
Me: Tell your BF to go to hell yaar
Friend 1: You mean cucumber slices are great for a crew cut?
Friend 2: Will it help?
Me: oops wrong window.
Anyways, I checked my PC power connection, cabling, my hair, nail polish and even my Horoscope and whatever else a non technical person like me checks when their PCs won’t start. Everything looked fine, but the damn thing wouldn’t start!! I even said some nice encouraging words to coax it to start .
Me: Nice PC, good PC if you start like a good machine I promise I will get you a bigger hard disk or Ram or er… whatever else pleases you
PC: *silence*
Me: $$%$#^&* I swear I will replace you with a Lenovo! grrrrr
Now don’t look at me in horror folks. We all know how desperate people get when their PC doesn’t work. Heck it has made some people do impossible things like… “pray” for instance! So I said a small prayer over it, but either Gods Inbox was full or He had become an atheist or He was deliberately ignoring me. *sigh*
It was then I remembered “PC DOC”, “The Friendly Neighborhood PC Repairman” who had recently set up, P C Clinic” in the neighborhood approximately 20 kilometers from my neighborhood. His impressive power point presentation had Superman, Tarzan, Bill Gates and even Saddam Hussein waxing eloquent about his services. In the last slide of the presentation, Saddam looks you in the eye and says “Call PC Doc or else…..!!!” Very convincing. His extensive services covered computer peripherals too like spider webs, cockroaches, rodents, mother-in-laws etc.
“Call me PC Doc” he had said after the ppt “and remember to call PC Doc whenever your PC is not in good health”. PC Doc was in my house before I could even put the phone down. I was impressed. He wore a white lab coat and had two ‘interns’ and a suitcase with him.
PC Doc had a “Ah! A girl!!! This is going to be a piece of cake.” kind of look.
Intern No 1 had an “I hope he pays me for putting on this damn lab coat and standing around like a fool” kind of look.
Intern No 2 had a “he is still to pay me for standing in as Bill Gates at that sweet old lady’s house” kind of look.
And I had a “Wow I am so impressed!” kind of look.
To which the PC Doc sported a “It’s official, we have a sucker in our hands” kind of look.
PC Doc slid under the table after some complicated contortions to examine his ‘patient’, straightened up and faced me with a grave expression. I had this horrible sinking feeling, like that moment in the movies when the doctor gives the horrible news to the patient that he doesn’t have a medical degree.
PC Doc ( very seriously): Miss you had better sit down.
Me ( turning pale): What is wrong PC Doc?
(At this point of time I remembered the horrible tragedy of my friend Rita, whose CPU fell into the Piranha Tank at the PC Clinic and came out an empty shell. Poor PC Doc was more heartbroken than Rita when he returned the empty shell.)
PC Doc( gravely): I’m afraid the news is not good. The examination confirms that your PC is in the late stages of Hard Disk damage.
Me: Oh my God!!
PC Doc ( even more gravely):Unfortunately, there is no question about the results. You can take a second opinion but it will only prolong the inevitable.
Me: Inevitable?
PC Doc: Yes. I am afraid you will have to buy a new Hard Disk. I can buy your old damaged one for fifty rupees. It’s the best deal you will ever get.
Me (in a small voice): O.k...
Just then my brother strolled in and wanted to know what was going on and why these guys were dressed so funnily. I told him the tragic tale of my PC . He went around the CPU and flicked on a switch. The PC roared to life when he started it. Inching towards the door he said “ um..er… well….when you were having breakfast I..umm…ahem switched off the CPU ..it was just a joke you see…hey what are you doing????? Put down that keyboard I said!!!!”
*CRACK*
The keyboard missed him narrowly, but I swear I will get him next time. My room looked like an alphabet soup spill zone. I looked around for PC Doc but he had apparently had to leave in a tremendous hurry.
Anyways I have just got a consultation bill from PC Clinic and if I work non stop for 24 hours for the next 15 years and live on bread and water I might just be able to clear his bill. I am now working evenings at KFC and during my coffee breaks at KFC, I go to Kairalee Mess and wait at the tables. Every penny counts you see.
See you folks, I will miss you all, keep blogging. See you in fifteen years.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Banking technology jargon
On Friday I walked into the ATM of an MNC Bank. This ATM is one of the best I have seen…clean and cool with air conditioning, a wide screen TV, potted plants, ISD facilities, smart and polite security guards etc. This is the first time I am using my Debit Card at another bank’s ATM, since I have an ATM close to office and home. I am impressed at the networking between banks, thanks to advances in Information Technology. You can even get your latest bank balance here after you withdraw money! Amazing!!!!
Now suppose your bank balance is Rs. 1000/- and you withdraw Rs. 200/-. This is how the transaction will go.
The moment you agree to a Receipt and press ‘Yes’ the ATM connects and communicates through, a host processor to your Bank’s Server and deducts the amount you have withdrawn from your account and gives you, your latest bank balance in a jiffy, like this.
Here is your new account balance.
Rs. 1000/- IS NOT AVAILABLE IN YOUR ACCOUNT!
Wow!!! And silly, mathematically challenged , me thought it was Rs. 800!!!
Now suppose your bank balance is Rs. 1000/- and you withdraw Rs. 200/-. This is how the transaction will go.
Please swipe your card and pull it out.
You have Rs. 1000/- in your account.
Please enter the amount you wish to withdraw
Please collect your cash.
Do you want a receipt for this transaction?
You have Rs. 1000/- in your account.
Please enter the amount you wish to withdraw
Please collect your cash.
Do you want a receipt for this transaction?
The moment you agree to a Receipt and press ‘Yes’ the ATM connects and communicates through, a host processor to your Bank’s Server and deducts the amount you have withdrawn from your account and gives you, your latest bank balance in a jiffy, like this.
Here is your new account balance.
Rs. 1000/- IS NOT AVAILABLE IN YOUR ACCOUNT!
Wow!!! And silly, mathematically challenged , me thought it was Rs. 800!!!
And with this I complete 100 posts folks! Thank you! :)
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Appu
There is this old house I pass by every morning on the way to the main road. From amidst the trees that grow in the house a lilting warble of a bird can be heard sometimes. I have strained to see the bird but have never got a glimpse through the dense canopy. One day, I opened the gate and went into the house. I thought I would take the owners permission to look around. Suddenly from nowhere a Neapolitan Mastiff (NM) appeared and came lopping towards me. I was terrified. A voice from inside the house called out “Appu..NO!!!!”. The dog stopped in his tracks and looked extremely disappointed with a “what will I sprinkle on her-pepper powder or tomato sauce before gobbling her down” look.
A small and wizened lady came out of the house. She would easily fit under the dog. But the dog clearly knew who the boss was, because he slinked to her side and gazed at me with another “maybe I will eat her with mayonnaise but mayo is so fattening" look.
Old Lady: Don’t worry Appu won’t do anything, he is just a baby!
‘Baby’ was still drooling and looking at me with a “maybe a dash of Paprika will be good but not too much as she is rather skinny” look.
“Appu go and shake hands with her” ordered the diminutive 5 feet nothing Aunty. ‘Baby’ came rather reluctantly with a “oh so now I have to be friendly with my Lunch” kind of look. He refused to shake hands and we both faced off with each other..err it was more like me facing off with his knee caps. I was like a Lilliput in front of him. For the first time I felt sorry for the Lilliputians whom I had roundedly cursed for tying up Gulliver and making him a pin cushion, though why they wanted a pin cushion in those days beats me. But then I was 5 years old when I heard the story and didn’t know back then that people had not looked at the Spear and thought “why don’t we shrink it so that it may come of use when paper is invented?”
“Shake hands!!!!!’ said aunty sternly and ‘baby’ proffered a paw the sight of which would make an elephant take anti depressants. ‘Baby’s paws were HUGE!!!! I gingerly took one nail and we shook hands solemnly. Was it a glint I saw on baby’s face? Because… before I could say “ Howdy dude” he kept his entire paw in my hand with an evil look on his face. Now an NM is born with an evil look. If you see one with a not so evil look you know where he is been….yes, you are right…to a plastic surgeon! (yes sadly there are some plastic surgeons doing work on the sly for dogs who wanna look good. Look out for doggy hair when you go to a clinic next).
My hands sagged under the weight while ‘Baby’ had this look which said “I would be enjoying this if I could only gobble her after the introductions”.
Removing my hands with a baleful look in his direction I turned to speak to aunty. Aunty had just moved into our neighborhood and was pleased to make friends with me. After the usual pleasantries I left for work. As I walked away from the house, I could almost feel Appu’s gaze, burning into my back trying to Tandoorify me.
From then on Appu would wait patiently for me behind the fence and jump up with a resounding “WOOF!!!!” just when I passed by, scaring the daylights out of me. Then he would slink away with a satisfied look. He always managed to startle me due to the sheer volume of the ‘WOOF’. A sort of unspoken war was declared between us and for every ‘woof' I stuck my tongue out at him and called him “Appukuttan Ungle” (the Radio City guy). This seemed to enrage him and he would whine in sheer frustration because the fence prevented him from a quick mid-day snack.
One day as usual I was trying to tip toe past his house when a pack of stray dogs came snarling at me. There were four or five of them. People living in my area are familiar with these packs of hounds that snarl at unsuspecting passersby. Before I could bend down to pick up a stone, Appu appeared from nowhere and gave the dogs a piece of his mind. Oh the language, the profanities he used against the dogs!!!! Makes me blush.!!!
The dogs realized they had met their match in cuss words and took to their heels. Talk about a dog’s bark being worse than his bite!!
To cut this rather long story short, Appu and me have become friends. I made it a point to be civil to him and get to know him. Appu has realized that he can tolerate me and nowadays, whenever I have the chance I take him for a walk…err I mean he takes me for a walk. He zips around the block with me hanging onto the leash for dear life. If you see a Brown Neapolitan Mastiff zipping past at 450 mph with a girl flapping in the wind behind him, please don’t call out “Appukuttam Ungle”. It might just be the excuse he is looking to sample some road side fare.
A small and wizened lady came out of the house. She would easily fit under the dog. But the dog clearly knew who the boss was, because he slinked to her side and gazed at me with another “maybe I will eat her with mayonnaise but mayo is so fattening" look.
Old Lady: Don’t worry Appu won’t do anything, he is just a baby!
‘Baby’ was still drooling and looking at me with a “maybe a dash of Paprika will be good but not too much as she is rather skinny” look.
“Appu go and shake hands with her” ordered the diminutive 5 feet nothing Aunty. ‘Baby’ came rather reluctantly with a “oh so now I have to be friendly with my Lunch” kind of look. He refused to shake hands and we both faced off with each other..err it was more like me facing off with his knee caps. I was like a Lilliput in front of him. For the first time I felt sorry for the Lilliputians whom I had roundedly cursed for tying up Gulliver and making him a pin cushion, though why they wanted a pin cushion in those days beats me. But then I was 5 years old when I heard the story and didn’t know back then that people had not looked at the Spear and thought “why don’t we shrink it so that it may come of use when paper is invented?”
“Shake hands!!!!!’ said aunty sternly and ‘baby’ proffered a paw the sight of which would make an elephant take anti depressants. ‘Baby’s paws were HUGE!!!! I gingerly took one nail and we shook hands solemnly. Was it a glint I saw on baby’s face? Because… before I could say “ Howdy dude” he kept his entire paw in my hand with an evil look on his face. Now an NM is born with an evil look. If you see one with a not so evil look you know where he is been….yes, you are right…to a plastic surgeon! (yes sadly there are some plastic surgeons doing work on the sly for dogs who wanna look good. Look out for doggy hair when you go to a clinic next).
My hands sagged under the weight while ‘Baby’ had this look which said “I would be enjoying this if I could only gobble her after the introductions”.
Removing my hands with a baleful look in his direction I turned to speak to aunty. Aunty had just moved into our neighborhood and was pleased to make friends with me. After the usual pleasantries I left for work. As I walked away from the house, I could almost feel Appu’s gaze, burning into my back trying to Tandoorify me.
From then on Appu would wait patiently for me behind the fence and jump up with a resounding “WOOF!!!!” just when I passed by, scaring the daylights out of me. Then he would slink away with a satisfied look. He always managed to startle me due to the sheer volume of the ‘WOOF’. A sort of unspoken war was declared between us and for every ‘woof' I stuck my tongue out at him and called him “Appukuttan Ungle” (the Radio City guy). This seemed to enrage him and he would whine in sheer frustration because the fence prevented him from a quick mid-day snack.
One day as usual I was trying to tip toe past his house when a pack of stray dogs came snarling at me. There were four or five of them. People living in my area are familiar with these packs of hounds that snarl at unsuspecting passersby. Before I could bend down to pick up a stone, Appu appeared from nowhere and gave the dogs a piece of his mind. Oh the language, the profanities he used against the dogs!!!! Makes me blush.!!!
The dogs realized they had met their match in cuss words and took to their heels. Talk about a dog’s bark being worse than his bite!!
To cut this rather long story short, Appu and me have become friends. I made it a point to be civil to him and get to know him. Appu has realized that he can tolerate me and nowadays, whenever I have the chance I take him for a walk…err I mean he takes me for a walk. He zips around the block with me hanging onto the leash for dear life. If you see a Brown Neapolitan Mastiff zipping past at 450 mph with a girl flapping in the wind behind him, please don’t call out “Appukuttam Ungle”. It might just be the excuse he is looking to sample some road side fare.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Towards a better bottomline!
Hello everybody. Sorry for not posting for so long. I have been very busy since we received this mail from our HR last week. I think I will make it to the CEO desk, if I follow the effective time management and productivity enhancement measures that my company has arranged for us. Wish me best of luck. Any on you HR Types reading this may take note and learn. I have given the mail from our HR below.
Dear Employees,
1. Starting today all latecomers’ computers will be configured to starts on its own. It will then open embarrassment.com/xxx . Screen savers have been blocked and will not save your face. The said page will not close after 9:30 am. To reset, you will have to contact HR.
2. New screen savers have been designed and installed compulsorily. A message on the screen saver will flash ”THIS COMPUTER IS LYING UNUSED” accompanied by loud horns if the computer is not used for more than four seconds. To reset contact your manager. Ditto for lunch break, pee break etc.
3. Internet Browsers have been configured with inbuilt timers. Internet browsing is chargeable at Rs.1000 per hour which will be deducted from your salary. Ditto with Messengers.
4. In order to improve our quarterly results, we will charge Rs. 500/- for every salary appraisal.
5. Lunch will hence forth be served at your workstation. We have arranged for people to feed you while you are working to save time.
6. Married employees are strictly advised against having babies while in our employment. Those undergoing Sterilization procedures will be given additional incentives like an extra 5 minutes tea/coffee break. You can make up by staying an extra 5 minutes late.
7. On the other hand, employees who have babies may please enroll them at our crèche for team building and indoctrination exercises. On successful completion of the course they will be given a certificate which will give them an advantage while applying for employment with us in the future.
8. Those willing to get our logo tattooed on their forehead or any visible part on their body or their family, friends or neighbor's bodies will be given an increment of 1%. This is a drive to save on branding costs.
9. As part of our drive to help you multi task all employees will have to undergo training in typing with your feet. After successful completing of the course you will be given an additional computer and additional tasks.
10. We are working on a new technology that will shrink 24 hours into 8 hours. All employees will have to volunteer for testing this project.
11. Only Managers will be allowed to backstab. The rest of you will help reduce Managerial frustrations by turning your backs to your manager’s faults from time to time.
12. All employees will have to go through Telepathy and Levitation Courses to save on telephone and travel bills. Requests for Flying carpets denied.
13. To save on stationery costs, printers have been configured to print on any body part. The ink is washable. Shower charges extra.
14. Employees will contribute for Projects that go out of budget.
15. Sick employees will be provided a workstation at home complete with access card swiping facility.
16. We have decided to restructure our management team and get rid of the deadwood. Ramesh the office boy, Suresh the boot polisher and David the arse kisser are hence fired.
17. All employees will have to attend Time Management Seminars on Friday, Saturdays and Sundays.
18. Please carpool while using the lift.
19. Air conditioner temperature disagreements have finally been resolved. The A/C temperature has been set at a comfortable 80 degrees. A coin slot has been provided for employees who want further decrease/increase in temperatures. The accounts dept. will be selling 5 rupee coins for Rs. 8/- only.
20. Employees will be fired in their mother tongue to soften the blow. For language options please contact HR.
21. All games in your computers have been reconfigured. Since the computers belong to us, you will have to pay us for every game you lose against the computer. On the other hand winning employees will be charged @ Rs. 1000 perhour for using the computer during their working hours.
22. Employees will be taken FREE to the cinemas on National Holidays where you will be treated to a four hour presentation on Giant Screen on Effective Working Techniques. The snack shops in the theater accept Sodexho passes.
23. We predict a 1% increase in our next quarter results. Employees are therefore advised make reservations at your favorite restaurant which accepts your Sodexho passes early to avoid disappointment. You wouldn’t want to be sitting at home when everyone is celebrating would you?
24. And finally Investment advice to employees is herewith stopped as employees who availed the same made enough money to quit our company.
Yours truly,
HR
Dear Employees,
1. Starting today all latecomers’ computers will be configured to starts on its own. It will then open embarrassment.com/xxx . Screen savers have been blocked and will not save your face. The said page will not close after 9:30 am. To reset, you will have to contact HR.
2. New screen savers have been designed and installed compulsorily. A message on the screen saver will flash ”THIS COMPUTER IS LYING UNUSED” accompanied by loud horns if the computer is not used for more than four seconds. To reset contact your manager. Ditto for lunch break, pee break etc.
3. Internet Browsers have been configured with inbuilt timers. Internet browsing is chargeable at Rs.1000 per hour which will be deducted from your salary. Ditto with Messengers.
4. In order to improve our quarterly results, we will charge Rs. 500/- for every salary appraisal.
5. Lunch will hence forth be served at your workstation. We have arranged for people to feed you while you are working to save time.
6. Married employees are strictly advised against having babies while in our employment. Those undergoing Sterilization procedures will be given additional incentives like an extra 5 minutes tea/coffee break. You can make up by staying an extra 5 minutes late.
7. On the other hand, employees who have babies may please enroll them at our crèche for team building and indoctrination exercises. On successful completion of the course they will be given a certificate which will give them an advantage while applying for employment with us in the future.
8. Those willing to get our logo tattooed on their forehead or any visible part on their body or their family, friends or neighbor's bodies will be given an increment of 1%. This is a drive to save on branding costs.
9. As part of our drive to help you multi task all employees will have to undergo training in typing with your feet. After successful completing of the course you will be given an additional computer and additional tasks.
10. We are working on a new technology that will shrink 24 hours into 8 hours. All employees will have to volunteer for testing this project.
11. Only Managers will be allowed to backstab. The rest of you will help reduce Managerial frustrations by turning your backs to your manager’s faults from time to time.
12. All employees will have to go through Telepathy and Levitation Courses to save on telephone and travel bills. Requests for Flying carpets denied.
13. To save on stationery costs, printers have been configured to print on any body part. The ink is washable. Shower charges extra.
14. Employees will contribute for Projects that go out of budget.
15. Sick employees will be provided a workstation at home complete with access card swiping facility.
16. We have decided to restructure our management team and get rid of the deadwood. Ramesh the office boy, Suresh the boot polisher and David the arse kisser are hence fired.
17. All employees will have to attend Time Management Seminars on Friday, Saturdays and Sundays.
18. Please carpool while using the lift.
19. Air conditioner temperature disagreements have finally been resolved. The A/C temperature has been set at a comfortable 80 degrees. A coin slot has been provided for employees who want further decrease/increase in temperatures. The accounts dept. will be selling 5 rupee coins for Rs. 8/- only.
20. Employees will be fired in their mother tongue to soften the blow. For language options please contact HR.
21. All games in your computers have been reconfigured. Since the computers belong to us, you will have to pay us for every game you lose against the computer. On the other hand winning employees will be charged @ Rs. 1000 perhour for using the computer during their working hours.
22. Employees will be taken FREE to the cinemas on National Holidays where you will be treated to a four hour presentation on Giant Screen on Effective Working Techniques. The snack shops in the theater accept Sodexho passes.
23. We predict a 1% increase in our next quarter results. Employees are therefore advised make reservations at your favorite restaurant which accepts your Sodexho passes early to avoid disappointment. You wouldn’t want to be sitting at home when everyone is celebrating would you?
24. And finally Investment advice to employees is herewith stopped as employees who availed the same made enough money to quit our company.
Yours truly,
HR
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
A mentor, guide and a friend...
My Boss almost died today after getting a near fatal shock! He is alright now and declared out of danger. Thank God for the visiting Doctor who was in the building at the same time. It is funny how momentary and fleeting are the moments we call life. He is such a nice boss and a gentleman to boot. You are the best Mr. MK
Footnote: Mr. M. K wasn’t electrocuted or anything like that. Just that he saw a certain Silverine at her desk at the stroke of 9:30 am today.
( I am sorry boss. What to do, I got up early and so came to office on time. I didn’t mean any harm. Pliz don’t hate me :( )
:p
Footnote: Mr. M. K wasn’t electrocuted or anything like that. Just that he saw a certain Silverine at her desk at the stroke of 9:30 am today.
( I am sorry boss. What to do, I got up early and so came to office on time. I didn’t mean any harm. Pliz don’t hate me :( )
:p
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Coming out of the closet
The title will give you a clue to the content of this post. I thought for once I will do away with the usual titles and be straightforward. Many of you may snigger after you have read this through, while some of you may leave shell-shocked. Some of you may actually feel a dislike towards me. However after much thought and much procrastination I have decided that I will be honest and write about something that I wanted to reveal for some time now. It is the least I can do for my fellow bloggers who have taken the trouble to read my posts and leave comments.
There is no right way to come out, but I hope I can avoid some of the pain and drama of coming out to my family and friends.It doesn't matter if you live in a small town or a large metropolitan city, nothing can be more isolating than the first coming out. You can be surrounded by familiar people and still feel you are the only one that is "different"
Accepting your 'inclination' can bring about a number of fears. Will your family or friends stop loving you? Will you ever get married or have children? Will you be discriminated against or made fun of?
Disregarding all these fears and hoping for your compassion, me Silverine, hereby declare on this day i.e June 17th , 2006 that:
"I AM A HIMESH RESHAMIYYA FAN!"
It's true dear bloggers....from the time I heard “Aashique banaaya” Remix I was hooked. And then one remix led to another and I realized that I was different from the 'phlegminem' crowd. I realized that I was in the majority who were different, but were ashamed to admit it. I led a life of deception and laughed at all the jokes about his songs and their nasal tones, pretending to be normal. But I will not live this “lie” anymore.
Fellow bloggers, I am really sorry if this confession shocks you or makes you the target of ridicule for being associated with me. You can always say that you never knew about my inclination.
Dad you always taught me to tell the truth. ( I can almost hear you saying “Clauses!!! I should have clauses for every advice I give her!!! Grrrr”).
Mom… remember I am still your little girl. (I can almost hear you saying "ente karthave!!!!")
And my dear brothers, I know your friends will snigger behind you back, some in front even (back stabbers!!!), (I can almost hear both of you saying "OH MY GAWD, did you see that goal?!!!")
I am sure the good doctors and fellow bloggers Mind Curry and Sarah will vouch for me and reassure you that this is normal ( both of you had better or else I will hack your blogs and make it a Himesh Reshamiyya Fan Site!!! grr).
And all you fellow bloggers, I am sure many of you may be similarly inclined. I appeal to you to ‘come out’ like I did or keep those headphones on. *sniff*
There is no right way to come out, but I hope I can avoid some of the pain and drama of coming out to my family and friends.It doesn't matter if you live in a small town or a large metropolitan city, nothing can be more isolating than the first coming out. You can be surrounded by familiar people and still feel you are the only one that is "different"
Accepting your 'inclination' can bring about a number of fears. Will your family or friends stop loving you? Will you ever get married or have children? Will you be discriminated against or made fun of?
Disregarding all these fears and hoping for your compassion, me Silverine, hereby declare on this day i.e June 17th , 2006 that:
"I AM A HIMESH RESHAMIYYA FAN!"
It's true dear bloggers....from the time I heard “Aashique banaaya” Remix I was hooked. And then one remix led to another and I realized that I was different from the 'phlegminem' crowd. I realized that I was in the majority who were different, but were ashamed to admit it. I led a life of deception and laughed at all the jokes about his songs and their nasal tones, pretending to be normal. But I will not live this “lie” anymore.
Fellow bloggers, I am really sorry if this confession shocks you or makes you the target of ridicule for being associated with me. You can always say that you never knew about my inclination.
Dad you always taught me to tell the truth. ( I can almost hear you saying “Clauses!!! I should have clauses for every advice I give her!!! Grrrr”).
Mom… remember I am still your little girl. (I can almost hear you saying "ente karthave!!!!")
And my dear brothers, I know your friends will snigger behind you back, some in front even (back stabbers!!!), (I can almost hear both of you saying "OH MY GAWD, did you see that goal?!!!")
I am sure the good doctors and fellow bloggers Mind Curry and Sarah will vouch for me and reassure you that this is normal ( both of you had better or else I will hack your blogs and make it a Himesh Reshamiyya Fan Site!!! grr).
And all you fellow bloggers, I am sure many of you may be similarly inclined. I appeal to you to ‘come out’ like I did or keep those headphones on. *sniff*
Sunday, June 11, 2006
To some special men..
Happy Fathers Day to my Dad and all the Dads of the world!
Thanks for being my Dad. Guess you had no choice :p
You will always be the number one man in my life. Guess you have no choice here too :p
Thanks for being such a gentle man. I grew thinking that all men would be like you. I should thank my brothers too for being the reality checks..that not all men are gentlemen :p
Thanks Dad for all those times you let me pluck your moustache hairs. I used to be so fascinated by hair growing on someone’s face.
And thanks for letting me comb your bushy eyebrows and letting me walk around in your huge shoes.
Thanks for letting me sit in your lap while you drove. (And sorry that inspite of that I am such a bad driver)
Thank you for the Sunday picnics in Lalbaugh and the long walks with numerous stops while I painstakingly went through each flower and leaf.
Thanks for being the most patient man in the whole world.
Thank you for trying and succeeding in getting me out of my thumb sucking habit by spending hours in the kitchen making concoctions like bitter gourd juice to paint on my thumb.
Thanks for obsessing over my running nose and cleaning it a million times.
Thank you for being so biased in my favor.
Thanks for doing all my school projects prompting the teacher to announce “And as usual the best project award goes to Silverine’s Dad” :))
Thank you for showing childlike enthusiasm whenever I got a project because you so loved doing them.
And thanks for taking over my projects completely making them elaborate with the help of electricians and then coaching me to explain it to the teacher. I am still in the dark to the numerous award winning projects I did in school :p
Thanks for letting me watch the intricate electrical stuff you did with your mind boggling array of gadgets, tools, soldering irons and other stuff. ( I am sure Mom would like to thank you for repairing everything under the roof without blowing up the house).
Thanks for flooring my teachers with your ‘Yes Ma’m” and “Thank you Ma’am”. In an all girls school with an all ladies staff that was a huge bonus for me.
And thanks for making the teachers all a twitter whenever you came over. I was always the gallant gentleman’s daughter. (Hope my Mom doesn’t get to read this. And after I have penned this you and me are gonna have a talk…as to why you came so often to my school. I don’t remember getting into trouble so many times hmmmm :p)
Thank you for quietly eating all the stuff I made when I was learning to cook. I know my initial cooking experiments were horrible.
Thank you for being the first to make up after I went into my famous sulks because you refused to break your famous rules.
Thank you for not being over ambitious for me. That was a huge relief.
And thanks for the firm belief that “My daughter can do no wrong”. Made me toe the line so that I live upto that belief. (Nice tactic Achcha)
( Fathers Day is on Sunday 18th June ) :)
Thanks for being my Dad. Guess you had no choice :p
You will always be the number one man in my life. Guess you have no choice here too :p
Thanks for being such a gentle man. I grew thinking that all men would be like you. I should thank my brothers too for being the reality checks..that not all men are gentlemen :p
Thanks Dad for all those times you let me pluck your moustache hairs. I used to be so fascinated by hair growing on someone’s face.
And thanks for letting me comb your bushy eyebrows and letting me walk around in your huge shoes.
Thanks for letting me sit in your lap while you drove. (And sorry that inspite of that I am such a bad driver)
Thank you for the Sunday picnics in Lalbaugh and the long walks with numerous stops while I painstakingly went through each flower and leaf.
Thanks for being the most patient man in the whole world.
Thank you for trying and succeeding in getting me out of my thumb sucking habit by spending hours in the kitchen making concoctions like bitter gourd juice to paint on my thumb.
Thanks for obsessing over my running nose and cleaning it a million times.
Thank you for being so biased in my favor.
Thanks for doing all my school projects prompting the teacher to announce “And as usual the best project award goes to Silverine’s Dad” :))
Thank you for showing childlike enthusiasm whenever I got a project because you so loved doing them.
And thanks for taking over my projects completely making them elaborate with the help of electricians and then coaching me to explain it to the teacher. I am still in the dark to the numerous award winning projects I did in school :p
Thanks for letting me watch the intricate electrical stuff you did with your mind boggling array of gadgets, tools, soldering irons and other stuff. ( I am sure Mom would like to thank you for repairing everything under the roof without blowing up the house).
Thanks for flooring my teachers with your ‘Yes Ma’m” and “Thank you Ma’am”. In an all girls school with an all ladies staff that was a huge bonus for me.
And thanks for making the teachers all a twitter whenever you came over. I was always the gallant gentleman’s daughter. (Hope my Mom doesn’t get to read this. And after I have penned this you and me are gonna have a talk…as to why you came so often to my school. I don’t remember getting into trouble so many times hmmmm :p)
Thank you for quietly eating all the stuff I made when I was learning to cook. I know my initial cooking experiments were horrible.
Thank you for being the first to make up after I went into my famous sulks because you refused to break your famous rules.
Thank you for not being over ambitious for me. That was a huge relief.
And thanks for the firm belief that “My daughter can do no wrong”. Made me toe the line so that I live upto that belief. (Nice tactic Achcha)
( Fathers Day is on Sunday 18th June ) :)
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Mobile woes
My first phone was a Siemens handset that an Ungle from the Gelf had bought for me. Sturdy, reliable and built like an Ox, it was the kind of phone that would come very handy if someone snatched your hand bag. You could use it to club the robber black and blue and it would still be intact! And if the robber takes to his heels with your bag, then you could throw it at his receding skull and be sure of some spell binding acoustics effects when it connected with the cranium.
You could then nonchalantly pick it up, blow the dust away (like James Bond blowing the smoke from the muzzle of his gun after he had shot a target that was moving at the speed of 475358 kms a second) and walk away from the scene with your hand bag amidst applause. Of course nothing of that sort happened but that was because no self respecting robber would grab my handbag unless he was desperate for loose change.
A week after I was given the phone, a new model was released and suddenly I was trying to pass off my ‘outdated’ mobile as a rectangular block of grey plastic that I was carrying around to defend myself. No one bought the story though. My Dad refused to buy me the new model and suggested gently that I wait another week and my friend’s new mobile would be outdated and I wouldn’t feel so ashamed of my block of plastic. I refused to talk to my Dad for a couple of days after that. This was good because four new versions of the same phone were released during those couple of days and suddenly all of us had outdated phones. The new models releasing in the market was a great leveler as none of us could afford it and hence we were content with our prehistoric gadgets. ( In ‘phone age’ a month equals a decade and anything more than that is classified as pre historic).
When I started summer internships, I gave up my mobile because I had a Big Boss who would call me at all odd hours and a Mom who would call me at all even hours of the day. (Between the two of them they succeeded in reducing the sparrow population in Bangalore to catastrophic levels).
Big Boss was easy to evade.
Big Boss: Helloooooo
Me: Helloooooo
Big Boss: Damn!! This phone echoes! *slam*
But my Amma was a smart cookie.
Mom: Hello?
Me: Hi, this is me. Sorry I am unable to take your call right now but leave a message and your number and …
Mom (interrupting): I know you can hear me. You didn’t eat breakfast today blah blah I took so much trouble blah blah blah got up at 6 am blah blah I am never going to make breakfast again. *SLAM*
After scintillating conversations like these I decided that I would preserve what little of my brain cells that were not fried, poached and flambéed by the microwaves and threw away the phone into the deep recesses of my cupboard. My cupboard burned down shortly after that.
Mental note * Shut down the mobile before stowing it away in flammable places like wooden cupboards*
Mental note number 2 *And don’t leave lighted candles in the cupboard*.
Recently I agreed to be the guinea pig for a highly secretive International experiment. I agreed to borrow a mobile phone from my friend for a short period of time at the insistence of friends. Since it was a trial period I decided to borrow my ex colleague’s CDMA mobile that is serviced by a company whose credo is ‘Love your brother as thyself’. My friend’s circle heaved a sigh of relief. Friday jam sessions would be so easy to plan.
Step one: Call Silverine
Step two: Make her buy the booze.
Step three: Enjoy maadi.
Step four: Let her clean up as it is her house.
And now they would also be able to call me up at 2 am and ask intelligent and thought provoking questions like:
“Do you think Red is my color?”
“Do you think I should allow Gaurav to kiss me?”
“Guess what I was dreaming? I will give you a clue: I am in a bikini, on a beach and this handsome hunk……” *giggle*
( *sniff* such good friends I have and it is only 2 am).
My patience was wearing thin and scalp thinner. I decided to leave a recorded message so that I could avoid trivial calls and more brain death.
“Hi this is me. I am very busy right now; leave a message ONLY if it is a matter of life and death”
I got several important messages that were a matter of life and death and grave importance.
Mom: Where did you keep the chilli powder?
Telecaller: Hello! I am Smitha calling from ABC Bank. Congratulations you have just been suckered. To know more call me at 12345678. Hurry!
Unidentified caller from STD booth: *heavy breathing*
Friend: I have put on two kilos over the weekend *bawl*
Brother: Did you brush the dog with my hair brush?!?!?!?!
The last straw was an incident that happened last week.
Mom: What is the difference between a snowman and a snow woman?
Me: I don’t know. What is the answer?
Mom: I don’t know, it doesn’t say here.
Me: Holy crap!!! You have been reading my SMS’s?
I quickly checked the said SMS and gasped at the answer, and silently thanked all the angels and saints that my mom didn't know how to scroll down.
The answer was "Snowballs".
( I have since given up my mobile phone)
You could then nonchalantly pick it up, blow the dust away (like James Bond blowing the smoke from the muzzle of his gun after he had shot a target that was moving at the speed of 475358 kms a second) and walk away from the scene with your hand bag amidst applause. Of course nothing of that sort happened but that was because no self respecting robber would grab my handbag unless he was desperate for loose change.
A week after I was given the phone, a new model was released and suddenly I was trying to pass off my ‘outdated’ mobile as a rectangular block of grey plastic that I was carrying around to defend myself. No one bought the story though. My Dad refused to buy me the new model and suggested gently that I wait another week and my friend’s new mobile would be outdated and I wouldn’t feel so ashamed of my block of plastic. I refused to talk to my Dad for a couple of days after that. This was good because four new versions of the same phone were released during those couple of days and suddenly all of us had outdated phones. The new models releasing in the market was a great leveler as none of us could afford it and hence we were content with our prehistoric gadgets. ( In ‘phone age’ a month equals a decade and anything more than that is classified as pre historic).
When I started summer internships, I gave up my mobile because I had a Big Boss who would call me at all odd hours and a Mom who would call me at all even hours of the day. (Between the two of them they succeeded in reducing the sparrow population in Bangalore to catastrophic levels).
Big Boss was easy to evade.
Big Boss: Helloooooo
Me: Helloooooo
Big Boss: Damn!! This phone echoes! *slam*
But my Amma was a smart cookie.
Mom: Hello?
Me: Hi, this is me. Sorry I am unable to take your call right now but leave a message and your number and …
Mom (interrupting): I know you can hear me. You didn’t eat breakfast today blah blah I took so much trouble blah blah blah got up at 6 am blah blah I am never going to make breakfast again. *SLAM*
After scintillating conversations like these I decided that I would preserve what little of my brain cells that were not fried, poached and flambéed by the microwaves and threw away the phone into the deep recesses of my cupboard. My cupboard burned down shortly after that.
Mental note * Shut down the mobile before stowing it away in flammable places like wooden cupboards*
Mental note number 2 *And don’t leave lighted candles in the cupboard*.
Recently I agreed to be the guinea pig for a highly secretive International experiment. I agreed to borrow a mobile phone from my friend for a short period of time at the insistence of friends. Since it was a trial period I decided to borrow my ex colleague’s CDMA mobile that is serviced by a company whose credo is ‘Love your brother as thyself’. My friend’s circle heaved a sigh of relief. Friday jam sessions would be so easy to plan.
Step one: Call Silverine
Step two: Make her buy the booze.
Step three: Enjoy maadi.
Step four: Let her clean up as it is her house.
And now they would also be able to call me up at 2 am and ask intelligent and thought provoking questions like:
“Do you think Red is my color?”
“Do you think I should allow Gaurav to kiss me?”
“Guess what I was dreaming? I will give you a clue: I am in a bikini, on a beach and this handsome hunk……” *giggle*
( *sniff* such good friends I have and it is only 2 am).
My patience was wearing thin and scalp thinner. I decided to leave a recorded message so that I could avoid trivial calls and more brain death.
“Hi this is me. I am very busy right now; leave a message ONLY if it is a matter of life and death”
I got several important messages that were a matter of life and death and grave importance.
Mom: Where did you keep the chilli powder?
Telecaller: Hello! I am Smitha calling from ABC Bank. Congratulations you have just been suckered. To know more call me at 12345678. Hurry!
Unidentified caller from STD booth: *heavy breathing*
Friend: I have put on two kilos over the weekend *bawl*
Brother: Did you brush the dog with my hair brush?!?!?!?!
The last straw was an incident that happened last week.
Mom: What is the difference between a snowman and a snow woman?
Me: I don’t know. What is the answer?
Mom: I don’t know, it doesn’t say here.
Me: Holy crap!!! You have been reading my SMS’s?
I quickly checked the said SMS and gasped at the answer, and silently thanked all the angels and saints that my mom didn't know how to scroll down.
The answer was "Snowballs".
( I have since given up my mobile phone)
Saturday, June 03, 2006
The Time of India
Latesht news: It has been positively established that no cocaine was found in a prominent late politicians Son's blood samples.Vikram Singh the family’s loyal driver and servant for the past 15 years, donated the blood for the blood test. He will be nominated for Veertha Puruskar by the Party a spokesman said.
Vikram Singh who lives in Pali Hill,expressed shock at the allegations that the Son had snorted drugs. "The allegations are a lie! It was actually the absolute lack of drugs that made the Son so critical!!!" he exclaimed tearfully.
The Son’s family is so happy at the turn of events. His uncle Maru Anna said “We just can’t believe that our Son was not under intoxication. This is a miracle!!!" The family then went to the Temple/Gurudwara/Church/Mosque/Synagogue and offered pooja in thanksgiving in front of the TV crew.
A hospital spokesperson said, “The blood sample given to us does not contain cocaine or any other drug. But the donor has AIDs and STD and will live for another three months only.” The driver reportedly swooned when he heard the news.
The driver's CT scan report is also normal and hence the Son has been put off ventilator support. Apparently he was hyperventilating.
The Minister’s secretary Viv Mota, who was also brought to the hospital along with the Son and driver, had allegedly imbibed the Son’s share of the drug. He was declared dead on arrival. “Serves him right” said a family member of the Son.
Doctors at MAIMS have conducted an autopsy on Mota's body. An FIR has been lodged against him and his body was questioned for over four hours. The body was released to the mortuary when the interrogation unit broke for lunch. The temperature in the mortuary has been turned up so that the interrogation unit can resume interrogation immediately after lunch. Preliminary investigations are on against the body. So far they have found only a mole on the right butt.
Meanwhile, police are interrogating the three people whom the cops have managed to 'convince' that they were present at the Minister’s residence on Thursday night.
"We are trying to get the big picture here," said, the Big Cop. “ We have specially ordered a wide screen TV for this purpose." The cops were closeted in the TV room for hours. Addressing the Press Conference after that the Big Cop said “Kyon Ki Saas bhi Bahu thi is crap!!” According to neighbours, who spoke to this reporter, the Big Cop slept on the couch that night.
The Big Cop, however, remained tight-lipped about the suspect drug angle to the episode, saying the white powder found at the scene was being examined by forensic experts. "The CFSL report is being prepared by us er...I mean by the doctors and is awaited," he remarked. When asked persistently whether the powder was cocaine he said . “All I can say right now is that it smells awfully like Sandal Wood”. The police have made no arrests so far.
###
Vikram Singh who lives in Pali Hill,expressed shock at the allegations that the Son had snorted drugs. "The allegations are a lie! It was actually the absolute lack of drugs that made the Son so critical!!!" he exclaimed tearfully.
The Son’s family is so happy at the turn of events. His uncle Maru Anna said “We just can’t believe that our Son was not under intoxication. This is a miracle!!!" The family then went to the Temple/Gurudwara/Church/Mosque/Synagogue and offered pooja in thanksgiving in front of the TV crew.
A hospital spokesperson said, “The blood sample given to us does not contain cocaine or any other drug. But the donor has AIDs and STD and will live for another three months only.” The driver reportedly swooned when he heard the news.
The driver's CT scan report is also normal and hence the Son has been put off ventilator support. Apparently he was hyperventilating.
The Minister’s secretary Viv Mota, who was also brought to the hospital along with the Son and driver, had allegedly imbibed the Son’s share of the drug. He was declared dead on arrival. “Serves him right” said a family member of the Son.
Doctors at MAIMS have conducted an autopsy on Mota's body. An FIR has been lodged against him and his body was questioned for over four hours. The body was released to the mortuary when the interrogation unit broke for lunch. The temperature in the mortuary has been turned up so that the interrogation unit can resume interrogation immediately after lunch. Preliminary investigations are on against the body. So far they have found only a mole on the right butt.
Meanwhile, police are interrogating the three people whom the cops have managed to 'convince' that they were present at the Minister’s residence on Thursday night.
"We are trying to get the big picture here," said, the Big Cop. “ We have specially ordered a wide screen TV for this purpose." The cops were closeted in the TV room for hours. Addressing the Press Conference after that the Big Cop said “Kyon Ki Saas bhi Bahu thi is crap!!” According to neighbours, who spoke to this reporter, the Big Cop slept on the couch that night.
The Big Cop, however, remained tight-lipped about the suspect drug angle to the episode, saying the white powder found at the scene was being examined by forensic experts. "The CFSL report is being prepared by us er...I mean by the doctors and is awaited," he remarked. When asked persistently whether the powder was cocaine he said . “All I can say right now is that it smells awfully like Sandal Wood”. The police have made no arrests so far.
###
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Office Atmosphere
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Desi Werewolf
The Saas Bahu serials are quite a crowd puller here in Simla. It almost looks like people come to Simla to watch these since it is too hot in their part of their country to hold the remote without burning their hand on hot molten plastic. At least that’s the impression I get wherever I go. I saw a group of ladies from the four corners of the country sitting in a hotel lobby watching these serials. Perfect strangers but they "oohed" and "aahhed" and "sobbed" in perfect synchronization. Now that's what I call Unity in Diversity !
The storyline according to one lady who tried to explain it to me is apparently simple.
The serial mom is very angry ki beta shaadi kar ke aaya hai. Usually in Hindi movies, the maa’s will gently chide and tease their 50+ sons that she will get him a beautiful bahu (daughter in law).
Movie Ma: Beta, I will get you a beautiful bahu.
Movie Son: Oh maa * blush * I have seen a bahu for you.
Movie Ma: Sach??? (really?) I am so happy, when will I see my hone waali bahu?
Movie Son : *blush*
And our 50+ actor will then hug his mother and both will smile towards the camera waiting for the director to say "Cut".
The Serial Mom is slightly different. She brooks no nonsense from anyone. So when her son marries a girl without her consent she gets damn pissed off and swears vermillion revenge on her daughter in law (DIL). She vows to teach her DIL a lesson because her son didn’t learn one. And that is NEVER mess with a Serial Mom.
Son: Maa, I have married my child hood sweetheart
Serial Mom: * Snarl*
DIL (with chaste smile): Namaste Maaji!
Serial Mom: *Growl*
(Ad break for Head Cooling Hair Oil)
The DIL has the combined virtue of an entire convent and some monasteries put together and is as sweet as a Gulab Jamoon suffering from diabetes. She is harassed with all the tortures that the script writer can Google and gather and the Ma in Law’s script is heavily inspired from "My mother is a Werewolf".
DIL: Maaji, shall I make some tea for you?
Maa: *sneer* Your tea tastes like tap water.
Dil: Kshama keejiye maaji *sob* *sob*
(Ad break for Brooke Bond Tea)
If only the son had come home like a good boy without a woman, ma would have been so happy!
Son: Ma, Meet my life partner Pyaare Lal
Pyaare Lal (with unchaste smile):Namaste maaji !
(Ad break for Koffee with Karan)
Ma would have then rushed to her son and embraced him tears streaming down her cheek. Her son had not disobeyed her. And we would all be spared the agony of a Kyon Ki Saas bhi Kabhi Bahu thee.
That's all folks.Have a nice week.
The storyline according to one lady who tried to explain it to me is apparently simple.
The serial mom is very angry ki beta shaadi kar ke aaya hai. Usually in Hindi movies, the maa’s will gently chide and tease their 50+ sons that she will get him a beautiful bahu (daughter in law).
Movie Ma: Beta, I will get you a beautiful bahu.
Movie Son: Oh maa * blush * I have seen a bahu for you.
Movie Ma: Sach??? (really?) I am so happy, when will I see my hone waali bahu?
Movie Son : *blush*
And our 50+ actor will then hug his mother and both will smile towards the camera waiting for the director to say "Cut".
The Serial Mom is slightly different. She brooks no nonsense from anyone. So when her son marries a girl without her consent she gets damn pissed off and swears vermillion revenge on her daughter in law (DIL). She vows to teach her DIL a lesson because her son didn’t learn one. And that is NEVER mess with a Serial Mom.
Son: Maa, I have married my child hood sweetheart
Serial Mom: * Snarl*
DIL (with chaste smile): Namaste Maaji!
Serial Mom: *Growl*
(Ad break for Head Cooling Hair Oil)
The DIL has the combined virtue of an entire convent and some monasteries put together and is as sweet as a Gulab Jamoon suffering from diabetes. She is harassed with all the tortures that the script writer can Google and gather and the Ma in Law’s script is heavily inspired from "My mother is a Werewolf".
DIL: Maaji, shall I make some tea for you?
Maa: *sneer* Your tea tastes like tap water.
Dil: Kshama keejiye maaji *sob* *sob*
(Ad break for Brooke Bond Tea)
If only the son had come home like a good boy without a woman, ma would have been so happy!
Son: Ma, Meet my life partner Pyaare Lal
Pyaare Lal (with unchaste smile):Namaste maaji !
(Ad break for Koffee with Karan)
Ma would have then rushed to her son and embraced him tears streaming down her cheek. Her son had not disobeyed her. And we would all be spared the agony of a Kyon Ki Saas bhi Kabhi Bahu thee.
That's all folks.Have a nice week.
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