Family diplomacy

I like Christmas because it does not have an anti climax like Easter. After the grand Easter lunch and the burp, the festivity abruptly comes to an end and you go back to gorging on all those things you gave up for Lent (a 40 day upwaas).

Christmas on the other hand is followed by visits to all the families in the family and this is the only period of time that no one forces you to eat their Christmas delicacy, which tastes exactly the same as the one served in the 77 families you visited before. Everyone knows that you are visiting relations and hence stuffed, though they don’t know that you gave the same excuse to everyone…that the last house stuffed you to the gills. A very happy situation for all leading to a lot of unnecessary laughter, lies and confessions in church.

Me: Forgive me father for I have sinned.
Priest: And what did you do.
Me: I told my aunt that her Cake tasted great. It sucked big time.
Priest: hmmmm
Me: I told Jose that his Christmas Crib was an engineering miracle. It was a miracle it stood up for three whole seconds.
Priest: hmmmmmm
Me: I told Kurian uncle that his wine was awesome. It was so sour that milk curdled a mile way from it.
Priest: *snort* For Gods sake tell me something new!!!

Apart from visiting relations and telling a whole lot of lies like how you ate so much and cannot therefore even drink tea but if it is Scotch it is okay, you have to go through an ancient achayan ritual called “Christmas Crib seeing.” It is quite like Bride Seeing but quite unlike it too. I know it sounds confusing but then that’s how it is.

Normally the boy kids in the family make the Christmas Crib that his family is so proud of. The famous mallu sarcasm vanishes when it comes to your kids and hence most of our Christmas cribs are errr well….horrible!

“Look at the crib Jojo has made!!” exclaimed Jojo’s mother proudly. I looked around the room. There were several sacks of pepper or nutmeg I am not so sure. And several stacks of rubber sheets, a tractor blade and some other stuff. But no crib.

“err Jojo why don’t you tell me something about your Christmas crib” I said hoping Jojo will then point me in the direction of the crib.

Jojo the practical boy he is and having learnt from the visits of other visiting relations, who were not close enough to hold their sarcastic tongue, pointed in the direction of what looked like an Alien nest in the corner of the room. I recoiled in horror. Jojo flinched. I felt bad.

“This is sooooo amazing Jojo” I said truthfully. It was indeed amazing. It was just like those Alien eggs/nest in the movie Alien. I looked fearfully for signs of movement in the egg/nest in case I have to make a dash for it. But all was calm in the nest/egg. Jojo parted the egg/nest to show me the Christmas figurines inside. I was so relieved that I smiled. Jojo mistook it for amazement. I didn’t contradict him.Considering the fact that my mother had bought another horrible gift for him that he will promptly give away to the Parish Charity sale, this was the least I could do for him.

The next house was no better.
“Look!!” exclaimed Jojan’s mother.
“Look at the crib Jojan has made” She said beaming.
I stood in the garden and looked at every tree, bush and creeper. But no crib.
“err Jojan why don’t you tell me something about your Christmas crib” I said hoping Jojan will then point me in the direction of the crib. Now Jojan is 6 years old and three feet high and hence sarcasm goes over his head. But he has his own bit of 6 year old sarcasm.
“Chechi. You show me the crib!” he says cockily.
“Chechide bestest muththalle nee! Show me the Crib da.” I plead.
“No” he says adamantly.
“Ok! I will give you a Chocolate.” I wager in hope.
“Make it a Toblerone 'and' you take back that Cadbury Chocolate your amma gave me and we have a deal”.
“Sigh… deal”

Then Jojan proceeded to show me some shreds of pink wrapping paper the kind jewelers wrap gold jewelery in, wrapped around three pots of Crotons. Sitting precariously over the pots edges were the Holy Family and the entire denizens of Bethlehem. I heaved a sigh of relief. I have never been so happy to see a Christmas Crib!!! Imagine if Jojan had quizzed me in front of the entire family!! I could have gone around his house and the 100 acres of rubber estate with a fine tooth comb and still not found the Christmas Crib! Jojan’s mom would have hated me and his Dad would have hated me and then doubted his son’s paternity!!! (He comes from a family of champion Crib makers you see) A tragedy averted by some quick thinking by yours truly!!

The next house was next ….obviously.

“Look” exclaimed Blessy’s mother. I groaned. “Look at the crib Blessy has made” She said. I looked around the hall and then looked at Blessy standing prim and proper like a good little 6 year old girl.

“Blessy sweety why don’t you tell me something about your Christmas crib” I said hoping Blessy will point me in the direction of the Crib. Tears filled Blessy’s big brown eyes. I panicked. Maybe I am standing on her crib or perhaps sitting on it or perhaps I have accidentally eaten it. A whole lot of horrible possibilities rushed into my mind. As I wondered how I could possibly make up to my niece for destroying her Crib, her mom walks in, removes an A 4 sheet of paper stuck on the wall and shows it to me proudly. On the paper, sketched in childish hands was a horribly deformed buffalo with a tumor, though which one was which I couldn’t quite make out. Besides the tumored buffalo was a blue Amoeba and beside the blue Amoeba was what looked like a peanut. The tumored Buffalo pointed out Blessy’s mom, was Joseph. The blue Amoeba was Mother Mary and the peanut was Baby Jesus.

We told a whole lot of lies that day.

Kindly ignore first paragraph, written due to author’s extreme short memory which was refreshed after writing this post. Give me Easter any day!!

Kahani mein twist

The times around us are a changing, or they have changed. And we who sit and work in glass houses are not aware of the passing of time in the world outside. Or so I feel sometimes. An incident that happened the other day reinforced the belief.

Location: M.G Road, Bangalore.
Protagonists: Three olde friends, Amit, Alok, a very handsome mallu dude John Abraham and Yours Truly (all names changed except Amit, Alok and Yours Truly’s)
Antagonists: Three other people who thought they were the Protagonists: Read on and you will know.

Amit is getting married. Amit, Alok and John Abraham, decide to go shopping for the wedding with the expert advice and counseling of Yours Truly. Yours truly was drafted in so that the bride to be doesn’t walk out of the vivaah pandal in a huff when she sees the horrible sherwani the dulha has landed up in.

Pandit performing the wedding ritual: Kanya ko lao!
Bride: Nahiiiin! Yeh shaadi nahin ho sakthi!!
Bridegroom: *gasp*
Bride’s parents: *gasp*
Bridegrooms parents: *gasp*
Pandit: Kyon beti?
Bride (pointing an accusing finger at the groom) : Look at his Sherwani!!!!
Everyone: *gasp*

Yours Truly is late as usual and Amit and Alok go inside this designer boutique. John Abraham hangs around outside admiring the statuesque female mannequin’s on display in the showcase. He is unable to tear his eyes away from a particularly hot plastic number who is wearing a diaphanous saree and nothing else….inside. He is oblivious to the hustle and bustle and noise and activity of M.G Road behind him.

Unknown to John Abraham *input uneasy music here*, he was being keenly observed by an excited gaggle of very interested eyes. As they blushed and giggled and debated amongst themselves on the best way possible to approach him, sweep him off his feet and then live happily ever after…the spoiler, the villain of the piece, the haddi mein kabab a.k.a Yours Truly, lands up at the scene. She takes one look at John, clicks her tongue in disapproval at the vital learning experience that he is missing and drags him protesting into the Boutique. She isn’t letting him off the shopping hook.

Consternation, heart break, chagrin, rage and seething jealousy amongst John’s pretty admirers. Before the very handsome mallu dude and Yours Truly could truly comprehend what was happening, an admirer of John walks brusquely past, deliberately brushing against Yours Truly! Yours truly takes off in great speed on a trajectory towards the road and John, Amit and Alok, now out of the boutique manage to catch her before she falls on the busy road. Yours truly is shaken and stirred and very bemused. The guys are incensed.

A quick assessment of the situation and Yours Truly starts rolling on the kerb laughing her guts out. The men are not amused. Then Amit starts giggling, followed by Alok. Soon both join me on the kerb. John is seething with rage.

The reason? *drum rolls* The person who had tried to kill Yours Truly was a young guy!!!

Summary of the plot: The jealousy of the male sex of alternative sexuality is no different from that of us gals. Cho chweeeet!!!

Welcome to the sistahood bro! *hugs* :p

p.s Nowadays when the protagonists get together, Yours Truly sports a tee that says “He is not my boyfriend” with an arrow pointing either side. One never knows which side John Abrahm will walk on. I am not taking any more chances with my life and limb brrr

(Johnny boy. I know you are reading this muahahAHAHAHAHA!!! And to you and your Valentines, I dedicate the best song in the world, the ultimate romance number. Yenjoy!!!!)

The Y Not Generation

The apple of my eye, my god child Ashwini is visiting today. Like most 8 year olds, she is a wannabe Air Hostess and wants to marry Harry Potter and then divorce him for Sean Kingston.

Me: Ashwini please get me a glass of water sweety!
Ashwini: No!
Me: Pleeaaase!
Ashwini: No!!!
Me: Ayye! How are you going to become an Air Hostess with this attitude?
Ashwini: I am going to be an Indian Airlines Air Hostess *hmmpph*

This kid sure has her fundas right I must say. Why get paid to be nice when you can get paid for not being nice right? Bravo Ashwini....you just made your Godma so proud!

This is my 200th post here. Dedicating it to your spirit :)

Death by chocolate cake and achappams

In the good old days, food was the ultimate gift to one’s guests because food was scarce and offering food, especially the costly variety like sweets was considered the epitome of hospitality. Things have changed now. People do not wait for a special day to kill their best hen. All one has to do is walk to the shop next door and pick up one, cleaned and (un)dressed. Though times have changed, my relatives back in Kerala haven’t. They still think that feeding me till I have food coming out of my ears is showing their love and affection.

Aundy: Anjuuuuuuu how are you? *muah* *muah* *hug* *hug* See what all I made for you. Here eat some appam. *stuffs it into my mouth*
Me: Bang u!
Aundy: And here taste my achappam!
Me: dhat mas ghery tice
Aundy: Aiyyo you haven’t touched the cake!!! Here open your mouth!
Me: *gag* Bhi hink hi bad rehuff!!!
Aundy: When you were so little I used to feed you and you used to puke on my lap. So sweet you were. Here eat this murukku.
Me: *puke*
Aundy: Cho chweet!! Never mind mole. I will make you my naadan (traditional) mutton soup. Will cure your puking for good.
Me: !!!!!!!!!
Aundy: And while you are waiting for the soup I will pack you some snacks. You are going to Susans aunty's house next no? You will feel hungry on the way!

Susan aunty lives next door!

Me: (bolting for the door) : Aarrrggghhh!!!

That’s it!!! I have reached the end of the tether. Desperate times calls for desperate measures. As of today I suffer from Diabetes, High Cholesterol, Alzheimer,Cardiac Infarction and oh yes…. Angina Pectoris (hope that is a disease), that necessitates strict diet control. I know no one will marry me now, but then what the heck, you win some and you lose some.

It’s a win-win kinda situation I thunk! *GRIN*

My bad!

"My Bad!"

What a handy pair of words! I use it extensively.Works all the time for me.

Hey da, that girl is not Swetha from Sales.
My bad!

You gave me the wrong artwork!
My bad!

You gave the wrong copy to the ad agency!
My bad!

Hope you sent your aunt the Birthday Card.
My bad...amma!
*thwack*

Correction: Doesn't work all the time. My bad!

Shaken and stirred

Foolhardiness is an unexpected visitor. It drops in unannounced and the consequences are felt acutely for some period of time depending on the extent of its arrival impact.

I got up today at the grande olde hour of 11 am and felt damn pleased with myself. There was pin drop silence in the house as most members of the family had left for a wedding. A peek at the uninteresting breakfast and I decided that I will make my self a healthy milk shake. I chopped up some apples and put it in the blender and decided to give it a whirr and then add the Ice Cream (all those who thought I would put in milk...*snigger*). So I started the blender and apple pieces started flying every where in my mothers nice clean kitchen. I instinctively reached out to hold the lid down and...I will spare you the gristly details.

There was blood everywhere and … some pain, but then I was suddenly one finger less. There was no feeling in the left-click-the-mouse finger! I was so happy. This means it won’t pain! But the puddle forming on the floor wasn’t such a pretty sight. I never cared for blood red anyway!! Too Renaissance!

A quick dab with the kitchen towels took care of the blood bath the kitchen received and then I surveyed my hurt. I am no doctor, but this was a big boo boo err I mean hurt. And the boo boo err hurt looked like those photos of mangled accident victims. It was a grisly sight. A sight that would have made a first year medical college student go *swoon* *thud* and a second year medical student say “Yawn, I have seen better.”

Covering the hurt with another swathe of kitchen towel as I could not bear to look at it, I called my classmate, now an Intern at St Johns. Now a word about this classmate… lets call her Edema. When Edema decided to join med school, our girl gang were a relieved lot. At last ONE OF US was going to be a doctor. We were saved!! Every group in school had a medical school aspirant except us. Till 9th standard Edema showed no signs of interest in Medical School or Doctors and was nicknamed Dolly Parton. (She sang quite horribly and was flat chested. We were being kind.)

Edema was at the house in quick time. One look at my finger and she muttered something medical under the breath like “What the fcuk!!!” and rushed me into the car. Now Edema had all the qualities that a Doctor should have. She used to be a meek and silent girl in school (except when she was singing). But the moment she joined medical school, she became deaf, overbearing, developed really bad hand writing skills that only Medical Shop guys could read and started talking in strange tongues:

“Your hair is falling. I think you need a Brain surgery. Will Monday be alright?”

“You got stomach pain? You poor thing. Never mind we will do a hysterectomy. Will Tuesday be alright?”

We all are so proud of her. She will go far.

Back to our narrative. Edema drove at breakneck speed which is about 12 km per hour in a Reva and we reached St Johns in good time. Now this hospital is definitely NOT the place to go if I am planning to keep such incidences from my folks. What I mean is, if I were to throw a stone into this hospital it would hit a Doctor who is a relation and then the stone would be picked up and hurled angrily ( as the Doctor would be a mallu) and would hit an Intern who is also relation and he would in turn hurl the stone and hit a patient who is a relation / fellow kuntry man etc. etc.

And sure enough as we screeched into the hospital (break not working explained Edema) I am greeted by my cousin who is a Cardiac Surgeon. Cardiac Surgeon, lets call him Dr Ventricle, was like “Naaah, not too bad. You come with me. I will fix you up” and he promptly calls up my folks. My mom is rushed to the hospital for hyper ventilation and I get a break from everyone. Ha ha ha I am kidding. My torture continued.

Some eerie looking people in white descended on me and wheeled me full speed into the Operation Theater with Edema in hot in pursuit. I could almost imagine the report she would tender the next day.

Patient was rushed in bleeding profusely and near deaths door. Dr Ventricle, THE DR VENTRICLE please note, asked me to assist and I administered blah blah and did some blah blah and saved her from the jaws of death. Now that deserves an ‘A’ don’t you think Prof?

A really unforgettable hour later I had my beautifully manicured finger looking like it was suffering from Elephantiasis. There is enough bandage on my finger to mummify ten generation of Tutankhamens and some more. I keep seeing two of everything and my doggies sensing that something is wrong are fighting off depression and Edema’s suggestions that they to go in for Electric Shock Treatment. [My bro says it is a losing battle. My poor doggies :( ]

Whatay day!

p.s Edema says I can’t blog for some days or till I agree to have my finger chopped off.

Belling the BSNL cat!

Its been years since we gave up our VSNL (now BSNL) connection. But that old phone and the phone number is etched in my memory forever. Back in those days VSNL, a Government of India (Un) concern was more than a phone company… it provided us with hours of quality entertainment.

One of the features of this magnificent phone connection was “wrong numbers”. It was no use telling random people calling us that they had dialed the wrong number. They had actually dialed the correct number and landed up at the wrong number!

Over the years, my brother M became very efficient in dealing with BSNL’s problems. He was in fact a walking talking BSNL Call Centre!!

One day I got so many calls asking if I was XYZ Bakery that I handed over the problem to M. M solved the problem in a jiffy.

Caller: Happy Birthday XYZ Bakery!!!
M: Thank you!
Caller: There is an ad in today’ paper that says that you are giving a kilo of cake free to people who call and wish you Happy Birthday!
M: That’s correct!! Congratulations! Your token number is 78. Please come and collect the cake at 3 pm today.

He gave approximately 14 tokens that day to as many people. Later in the afternoon, M and his friends went over to the bakery and watched with great interest as the bakery owner’s ancestors and their privates were referred to in not so complementary terms by the assorted junta gathered there with their token numbers.

Then there were guys who got cross connected to our number due to the efficient telecommunication conglomerate called VSNL and kept calling back because they had heard a girl’s voice at the other end. This too was dispatched with great efficiency by M.

Caller: Hi!
M (in a gruff voice) : Hallow! Shivajinagar Police Station! Inspector Kempanna here!
Caller: *gulp* Sorry wrong number saar!!! *click*

This was one of the most efficient ways to get rid of persistent guys calling up home.

Inspite every other number dialed being a wrong number, there were people who would call up and get chatty without even bothering to find out if they had the right number.

Caller: Hello is this Rajkumar Thapar?
M: Yes!
Caller: heh heh Good morning Sirji! Selvam here! Heh heh
M: Good morning Selvam. How are you?
Caller: I am fine Sir. How is madam?
M: She is fine.
Caller: You sound so different on the phone Sir!
M: err thats because I have a cold you see!
Caller: Oh! So sorry to hear that Sir. Maybe you should take turmeric tea.
M: Yeah sure!
Caller: heh heh Sirji please drop into our humble abode sometime!
M: Sure!! Tomorrow is Republic Day right? We will come over for lunch.
Caller: heh heh thank you Sir. We look forward to your visit.
M: *SLAM*

Sometime back when I went to return this phone connection (as it worked only on national holidays that fell on even days during leap years), I was greeted at the gate by the security guard. “You come to return phone right? Go to the next building on your left.”

I hadn’t even asked him anything yet.

On this Republic Day, I want to say “Salute” to the BSNL of yore. Your phones were something else altogether. They had character, individuality, a spirit for adventure and rebelliousness and most importantly a mind of their own, unlike the Airtels and Tata Indicoms of today that work like boring efficient robots!!

Wishing you all a very happy Republic Day!

Oh so?

Pix courtesy: Bollywood dot Com

Quiz question: Given below is the English translation of a Hindi film song. Identify the song!

Hey look at us coming together in a show of camaraderie, which we know is useless as all of you know about the tensions between us anyways. But what the heck we pompous dimwits think you all are brainless morons. So look at us over acting from every music channel till you can stand no more and be filled with overwhelming emotions at the show of artificial bhaichaara and come and see the movie so that we make lotsa money!

Disclaimer: No prizes for guessing this one.

Now I have nothing against Hindi movies because (a) I don't watch them (b) I don’t watch them and (c) I watch only recommended movies. Recommended as in movies watched by friends at their expense and recommended as good.

And I have nothing against any of the Stars that feature in this song. But I am going to kidnap each and every one of the star, starlet, extra, not so extra, casting couch victims, casting couch victimizer, line man, camera man, choreographer et al who featured in this song or were connected to it in its making and lock them in a room and play this song non stop for 72 hours continuously or till they scream 'Stop!!!' ...whatever comes first. There will be no respite at all even if they or their Managers/Secretaries offer John Abraham in wedlock to me!!

It is hoped that this experience makes them do unto others, what they would want done unto them!

Now if anyone here has a large barn or Godown please get in touch with me.

p.s FCI need not reply to this post.

Defence is the best form of defence

I was thinking today...well more of giving the 'ol grey cells an airing you know in case they stop working due to disuse. And I realized that I need to give them more of an airing than the annual airing they get till now. Right now my thought processes need a really good wheelchair. Anyways I was thinking, that if I were to leave the Earth suddenly, like in an accident I would have no legacy to leave behind for the world, except some empty Pulpy Orange bottles, a few empty shampoo bottles, a computer and some dogs!

God: And young lady, what legacies have you left behind on Earth besides that squishy thing on the road?
Me: Well…ummm…err…wel l l l …lemme think...
God: sigh...my life just sucks some days!

I realized with a sinking feeling that I am zilch in the legacy department. And then when I was thinking, a thought struck me. I did have a legacy…err well it’s a shared legacy between my second elder bro and me actually. It is the Legacy of the Most Corny Excuses of 2007!! These excuses come in handy when we are doing really important chores like blog hopping/gaming/chatting etc that do not give us time to look into minor chores that is entrusted to us by our Mom, when the maid is not around. Not a very impressive legacy I must admit, but what the heck, however minor and insignificant I do have a legacy to give to the world. You are at liberty to use them, but then we are not responsible for the consequences. I am barely alive to tell this tale and that’s cos my mom is bad in trouble shooting...trouble as in me and my bro and shooting as in shooting with a gun.

So here is my humble contribution to the world. A nice set of excuses that you can use when you run out of excuses.

When the rice gets overcooked: It is not overcooked. It’s become soft.

When milk boils over: It boiled too fast. There is something wrong with it.

When milk boils over and the rest gets burnt: There is something definitely wrong with this milk.

When milk boils over and the rest gets burnt and there is zero visibility in the house due to the thick fumes: I am right here ma ..next to you!

When the Electricity Meter reader walks off after ringing the bell for over half an hour: You didn’t give him enough bakshish for Christmas!

When the Garbage van doesn’t pick up the garbage because we forgot to keep it at the gate: I think he hates his job.

When something we had to watch over gets burnt: I didn’t get the smell of burning or I would have turned the gas off!!!

When she has to wait for me to open the door: Why don’t you knock on my bedroom window like Dad? hmmph!

When she explains that wearing ear phones and blasting music is not exactly conducive to the passage of sound into the ears: Why don’t you throw a pebble at me like Dad??? hmmph!

New rule in the house: Only one us can use ear phones/head phones at a time so that one pair of ear is available for audio purposes like for example if there is a cylinder blast, we will not get up zombie like and put on the fan in full speed due to sudden rise in heat in the house. We have compromised. When bro wears head phones, I play music full blast on the speakers and vice versa.

When the gas cylinder guy walks off after banging the gate amidst all the dogs barking and neighbors howling: I think he was looking for an excuse to sell the cylinder in black!

When the postman walks off with the registered letter because no one answered the door for a very long time: I think he hates us because we use E-mail.

When you forget to feed the dog: I thought I will give him a break from food today.

Coming late when you have been expressly told to come home because a certain highly avoidable aundy or ungle was visiting. - This is creepy. Every time they visit, we have such huge traffic jams! brrr

When you get back with worm infested veggies from the vegetable shop: These caterpillars are damn good in camouflage I say!!!

And now to survive 2008...I better start thinking right away!

Driving on the edge!

Dear Aladdin’s Genie,

Salaam Aleikum!

Hope you are doing fine in that Lamp and all is well with you and your own. The purpose of this mail is obvious. I need a boon. I know lots of people ask you for favors, but mine is the least cumbersome and most easily grantable of all... I promise!! Please hear me out before you delete my mail.

This month I am driving the car pool. And every day for the 45 minutes ride to office in the morning and evening this is what I have to hear in the car!

When I look into your eyes Sankaraaaaaaaaabharanamuuuuuuuu I can see a love restrained Sankaraabharanamuuuu My dil goes mmm My dil goes mmm Muthukal Sirikum Nilathil Thittikkum Soni de nakhre sone lagade meinu, soni de nakhre sone lagadeee But darlin' when I hold you Damn all these beautiful girls They only wanna do you dirt They'll have you suuuuuuicidal, suuuuuuuicidal Mrutheeya leni sudhaa laasa swargamu Sankaraaaaaaaaabharanamuuu Istamalleda inikku Istamalleda bum chik bum chik boom boom boom nanna style berene nanna style berene Sankaraaaaaaaaabharanamuuuuuuuu.......

The above cacophony emanates from the five other inmates in the car who wear their headphones and then insist on singing out loud what they hear in the privacy of their ears.

So all I ask for, is an additional accessory to be built into all the walkman, MP3 players, IPods etc of this world...like a pair of Bionic arms perhaps, that activates itself the moment someone puts on their ear phones and CLAMS THEIR MOUTH SHUT REAL HARD!!!

Thanking you in anticipation,

I remain yours sincerely,

A victim of audio molestation! (repeated assaults)

And dear peoples, if you see a black SUV on the Indiranagar flyover between 8:30 am and 9 am from Mondays to Fridays, I suggest you stop till it passes the flyover, cos one of these days I am taking the SUV over. There is only so much I can tolerate! *sob*

Have a nice weekends folks!

Whatay Monday!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...and her album is still locked!

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

Twelve days of Christmas!

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

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

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

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

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

On the Sixth day of Christmas - *SNORE*

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

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

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

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

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

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

*burp*

"Twelve days of Christmas" is a Christmas carol.

It's an ad bad world

Warning: Long post ahead!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fun is not a dirty word!

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

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

hmm I must say this is fun.

How about Goodin, Badin and Uglin?

And Godfatherin and Godmotherin?

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

Man this is fun!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jingle bells and Wedding belles

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They are usually damn proud of their daughters.

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

They are usually not too proud of their sons.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

New Year Wishes!

Pix courtesy Corbis

I wish you Health...
So you may enjoy each day in comfort.

I wish you the Love of friends and family...
And Peace within your heart.

I wish you the Beauty of nature...
That you may enjoy the work of God.

I wish you Wisdom to choose priorities...
For those things that really matter in life.

I wish you Generosity so you may share...
All good things that come to you.

I wish you Happiness and Joy...
And blessings for the New Year.

I wish you the best of everything...
That you so well deserve.

HAPPY NEW YEAR DEAR FRIENDS!

~ Author Unknown to me ~

We lived to tell the tale... hic

It is Sunday afternoon. Sundays are synonymous with Cocktails in my house. We are not exactly a family that likes cocktails. In fact we loathe it, at least the home made variety. But then we have no choice.

M (elder bro) : I am going to make cocktails today!!!
Dad to mom: Isn’t there any wedding in your family today? We can still make the flight if we leave now.
G (eldest bro) : I think I need to pick up some shirts urgently!
Me: I will accompany you!
M: Why?? Why should you accompany him?
G: Well someone has to hold the hangar when I am trying the shirts no!
M: Okay! I get it. I know what this is all about. All of you hate me. I am sure I was adopted. If I am such a burden I will move …
Dad: ok ok spare us the crap and we will drink your cocktail.
M (bowing graciously to hide the triumphant smile) : Thank you Monsieur Papa!
Dad: ^%$#&#&….

And thus we end up 'encouraging his budding hobby' every Sunday and sometimes Saturdays too, and a Monday a Tuesday and even some Wednesdays!! And on very frequently occurring rare occasions, Thursdays and Fridays too.

Of course the budding Cocktail Maestro doesn’t believe in using the umpteen books on Cocktails that we have given him as broad hints that his “loving supporting family” may soon become extinct due to Gastric Ulcer /Liver Cirrhosis/incessant puking/permanent loss of taste in the mouth etc if he doesn’t stop making his own concoctions. He feels that recipe books will kill his “natural talent”. The "budding hobby' is now three years old and refusing to bloom.

Here are some of the creations of the budding Cocktail Maestro, that I have carefully noted down after I have recovered from the really bad taste in the mouth. No, I am not going to make and drink it. But when the war of the worlds starts, I am certainly not counting on the Indian army to protect me with their antique weaponry. My brothers’ concoctions are deadlier than Molotov cocktails and very real, unlike Saddams WMDs.

Warning: Do not try this at home. And at no cost, drink it or serve to near and dear ones.

The M special:

One part Whiskey
Soda or water

Pour the water or soda over the Whisky, put your finger in and stir for a minute. Now remove the finger carefully to avoid spillage and taste the mixture with a thoughtful expression.

Put the very same finger in, stir again and repeat the rest of the process and serve with a flourish in a Crystal glass. Do not brook any arguments from your guests like “No thanks. Just remembered today is Hanuman pooja day and I cannot drink Whiskey!” or “Can I make my own and mix the cocktail with “my” own finger?”

As you all correctly guessed, the drink is so called because he is the special ingredient in it.

Nightmare on Elm street:

One part dark Rum
One part a slimy green liquid that looks like liquid green goo
One part home made brown goo from his highly secret recipe
A few drops of I don’t even want to know what it is but it looks like lizard juice
200 ml Cola

Mix ingredients in a cocktail shaker and serve with a flourish in the Cocktail shaker to Silverine. (Glasses are for guests silly) Look a trifle annoyed when she says “I have just turned teetotaler. I need your support in this"

As you all correctly guessed, this drink was named by yours truly.

The Goan Run: So called because he invented this drink in Goa and all his friends were running to the toilet after tasting this elixir. Expert tip from the creator “Goan Run is not for wussies”.

One part the bottle on your right
One part the bottle on your left
One part of the bottle under the chair
One part the carton in the fridge
One part anything else you can you can lay your hand on. (After Shave, Cologne etc excluded) Mix thoroughly.

Serve only to people who have not done the Goan Run before.

Suicide Bomber:

One part Beer
One part Rum
One part Whiskey
One part Brandy
Two part Chili Sauce
Tomato Juice to dilute
A sprinkling of Chili Flakes that you get free with Pizza
Anything else you get free with Pizza

Mix well.

Serve in a sturdy glass if the cocktail shaker hasnt exploded yet.

Winter Wonderland:

Two drops of edible blue color
One part Gin
250 ml chilled Sprite
A dash of lime
Crushed ice

Mix all ingredients together except the crushed ice and pour into a tall glass. Garnish with the crushed ice. This is the only decent cocktail he makes; hence you will never get to drink it. Reserved only for the creator.

Midsummer Night:

One part Vodka
One part gooey Raspberry syrup
One part yucky Litchi crush
One sneaky part Whiskey if no one is looking
And since no one ever looks since it makes them nauseous: One part Gin
50 ml chilled Sprite

Mix well and serve with a spoon as it will be too thick to sip. Call ambulance if people are still puking after two hours.

The Raman Effect:

This drink was made in honor of best buddy Raman, who left for New York some time back. Helped the childhood buddies fight parting blues and sing off key in high shrill voices and recall fondly the day they ended up in the slammer.

Half a bottle Scotch
Bottoms up!

That’s it folks. This is my last post for this year. I leave you with a ponderous quote from our very own, home grown Cocktail Maestro.

“Alcohol is not injurious to health. Have you ever seen a bottle of alcohol kill anyone?”

Cheers!

Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and a New Year full of joy, career fulfillment, obscenely high salary hikes, an unbelievably good boss and last but not the least, good health to enjoy all that! See you all in 2008!! :)

Sandwich anyone?!

“Covering your cleavage is like wearing burqa!”

Now if you people think that I have finally flipped it, then you are wrong. I haven’t. I flipped it long time back. This is my unmedicated run before those NIMHANS guys catch up with me.

I was at this dinner yesterday to celebrate my pal and her BF's second "Seeing-each-other-across-a-crowded-room-and-eyes-meeting" anniversary. The BF picked me up first and then we proceeded to my friends place to pick her up. My friend lets call her SD was waiting at the doorstep in a slinky black outfit that showed a decent amount of her cleavage. Decent as in 'decent' and not "indecent" if you know what I mean. The BF looks at her in eye-balls popping out kinda horror, composes himself, forces a smile and tells her in mock unseriousness that her neck line was a trifle low. My friend, who mistook his mock unserious look and presumed that he was cool with it, replied rather flippantly that she liked to live dangerously. Yours truly in the meantime was forgotten by the 'much-in-love-but-now-teetering dangerously-on-the-verge-of-a-split-up' couple. I knew what was coming and I wished I was at home listening to Cecily aunty talk about her varicose veins.

Back to the scene of action. BF explained with mock affection that he didn’t want other men ogling at his GF's assets. GF countered with a stiff smile that if he had no problem with people looking at her face then why would he have problems with people looking at her cleavage?

BF looked like he would bust a blood vessel but managed to give an 'I-am-ok-with-it-but-I-am-just-making-an-observation' kinda look….though rather unsuccessfully. Back in the rear seat, I dreamt of going out for dinner with friends who are not that close to you and will hence refrain but picking up a fight till 'you' have been dropped home after the dinner. It is then the realization dawned upon me that I have far too many close friends and not too many not-so-close friends.

[Note to self: What happened to your last years resolutions of making not-so-close friends ???]

BF turned around to me for help and knowing from experience that none will be forthcoming, pleaded with me to keep my mouth shut. GF who was still standing outside the car of course didn’t hear his appeal. Neither did I.

GF slid in with a dangerous glint in her eyes. She was beginning to get a trifle suspicious that BF was a rabid moralist. Her guard was up and she was getting defensive. I groaned partially with hunger and partially due to the fact that I was very hungry.

A ‘friendly’ argument ensued which I tried to close as soon as possible due to my growing hunger for food and some peace and quite. But the spark of an argument was lit and there was no turning back.

She: I am glad I got to see a new aspect to your personality today.
He: It's not like that!!!
Me: I am hungry!
She (looking thoughtful) : Maybe I should have started showing a little cleavage in the beginning of our acquaintance itself. Would have saved me two years of trouble!
He: It' not like that sweety
She: Stop calling me sweety!
Me: I am hungry!
She (looking more thoughtful) : Maybe I should buy a burqa.
He: Now you are blowing this out of proportion!
She: Why don't you tint your car windows black?
Me: I am very hungry.
He: Ok…I am sorry. I shouldn’t have bought this issue up at all.
She: Shall I put some curtains over my boobs? Why should people see it jutting out!
Me: The upholstery looks rather yum!
He: Can we forget this please!!! Let’s go for dinner. Anju must be starving.
Me: Thank you *sob*
She: I think Anju and I will get down, just like that and have dinner at home.
He: Fine!! Do what you want.
She (sweetly) : Thank you. Anju lets go. You can make us an omelet.
Me: Sure! Making an omelet is so easy. First we will go buy a gas cylinder, then a gas stove, then some pans, eggs, pepper, salt...oh yes. I forgot! Ze most important ingredient of all. Matchbox!!!

I am back home folks, after a dinner of Fanoos rolls, Vodka and Orange Juice, Vodka and Peach Crush (ugh) , Vodka and Sprite and Vodka and Tomato Juice (when everything else ran out) accompanied by GF cursing BF and the both of us cursing global warming, George Bush, the price of Revlon Cosmetics, the Indian electorate, Bata shoes, traffic jams, Mondays, PMS and narrow minded men in general.

But the silver lining on this dark cloud is that “I am home for breakfast”. Yay!!

About my first statement….swolpa adjust maadi and forget about it. It was made under extreme hunger conditions.

A few good men...

Tis a few weeks before Christmas and all through the house not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse. (Well… that’s because the neighbor’s stupid cat is a champion mouser.) The house is empty save for the noise of my keyboard tap tapping away. My mom is out for a prayer meeting. The prayer meeting is for a departed soul, but I know she will cheat and pray that I get some sense into my head. Dad is out for an achayan get-together. One bro is out of town and the other is out cold....with a hangover. So technically, I am alone in the house with my doggies. The baby squirrel has flown the coup….sob

Usually an empty house makes me feel like an orphan and I go all teary eyed and feel very sorry for myself. But today I am in an introspective mood. So I will go teary eyed and feel sorry for myself after I have written this post.

Since the time I have started working I have resigned twice. I lasted approximately three months in my first job.

HR: What!! You have resigned???
Me: err… I hope the resignation letter doesn’t convey anything else!
HR: Why have you resigned?
Me: I don’t want to work here anymore.
HR (irritably): That I know. But why have you resigned?
Me: Like I told you before, I don’t want to work here anymore.
HR (trying not to shout): And why don’t you want to work here any more?
Me: Because I don’t like this place.
HR (kindly): This is your first job dear?
Me: Yes :(
HR: What I am trying to ask is, why are you unhappy here?
Me: Because I cannot finish the tasks assigned to me.
HR: Why? What’s coming in the way of your work?
Me: Well…I am finding it hard to finish one brochure a month…
HR: Only one brochure!! And you say that it is a difficult thing to do??
Me: And the 14 Print ads
HR: What?!
Me: and 34 Web banners…
HR: err…
Me: And 4 Flash Presentations….
HR: Well…
Me: And the 24 Product Specifications Leaflets
HR: *squirm*
Me: and the 5 Events per month, the Managers Speech at the events, presentations, letter to the stake holders, website content writing…besides the monthly Internal newsletters, Channel Newsletter, Dealer Newsletter, ….
HR: %$^#&#& who is your manager???!!!

I don’t know what happened after that. But I am sure the Manager got a good ticking off from the HR. Serves him right too!!

HR: How can you drive away such a juicy bakra?????
Manager: *gulp* I am sorry. I guess I got too carried away and over utilized her. It was kinda nice to see her working 20 hours a day. I think it was my latent tendency to sadism. I should have curbed it I know but….
HR: This is a grave indiscretion from your side!!! As a manager of this organization you are supposed to make the bakra feel like a “valuable resource”!!!! You made her feel like a *gasp* bakra!!! Shame on you!!!
Manager: *sob*
HR: I am afraid I will have to escalate this to the VP- Human Resources!
Manager (falling at her feet and breaking down): *bawl* Please forgive me. I promise I will never make a bakra feel like a bakra again!!
HR: Say “Pretty please”
Manager: Pretty pleeeeease.
HR: “With a cherry on top!”
Manager: With a $%#^# cherry on top!!
HR: Now kiss my boots!!
Manager: *muuuaah*
HR: You are forgiven this time!! Now stop groveling man and go interview the potential bakras I have lined up for you.
Manager: %$^#&# err I mean thank you!

Like I said “serves him right”

I think the necessary qualities of being a Manager, is the art of deception. The art of making your subordinate feel like a dimwit-you-erroneously-consider-very-clever. Now that must sound confusing to most people. But 'successful managers' as opposed to 'good managers' are adept in the art of convincing their subordinates, that they are no good and that they i.e their Manager is not aware of this fact. This keeps the subordinate on their toes and the manager happy. A win win situation for the manager and a win win situation kinda feeling for the employee. I am sure there is an Institute where Managers enroll to learn about the finer aspects of man management.

Professor: And now class, how do you make your subordinate work 18 hours days and still feel guilty that he is not putting in enough???
Managerial Student 1: I would congratulate him on his good performance and hint that he can do better!
Professor: Excellent!!!! And how do you induce cut throat competition in your team???
Managerial Student 1: By meeting each team member separately and telling them they have more potential than the next guy??
Professor: Bravo!!!! I am so proud of you!
Managerial Student 2: Sir, I beg to differ. I think a good manager should acknowledge his subordinate when he is doing well and help him do better if he is not upto the expectations.
Professor: Horrors!!! Whoever gave you admission into this Institute???
Managerial Student 2: But Sir….
Professor: I am afraid you do not have it in you to be a good manager. You are a bad influence on the other students too. We will have to remove you from our rolls. Goodbye son!

Sound of a resounding *THUD* as two hefty men throw Managerial Student 2 out of the Institute gate.

Guess people like him joins the ranks of Managers who come up the hard way through hard work, building responsive interpersonal relationships, good finance sense, team building, recognizing and rewarding good work and improving morale of slackers and leadership through example. May their tribe increase and join the ranks of my last boss and present boss. Amen!

Funny...now I dont feel so sorry for myself!

Cometh the hour, cometh the man!

It is a wet ,foggy, cold and gloomy Friday morning in Bangalore. A weather that can dampen the most cheerful disposition to depression. But every cloud has a silver lining they say. So true!

I step out of the house to hear this conversation between my Dad and his driver when they discover that the cars music system remote was stolen. This happened when the driver took the car home to have his breakfast and refuelling.

Dad: I wonder who would take the remote!!
Driver ( confidently): I know saar!!!
Dad (brightening up): Really! Who????
Driver: It was a thief saar!!! I am 100% sure of that!!! @#%$ Rascal!!!

I dont know what was funnier...the expression on my Dad's face or the drivers brilliant deduction!

Have a great weekend everyone!!