Monday morning I walked into office for my summer internship and walked right out, gasping for breath. A powerful stench physically shoved me back as I entered the office. Gasping, wheezing and choking I asked "What’s that stench? Did any one die in here?"
My Admin and Facility Manager who was standing nearby gasped, went pale and shakily seated himself on the stairs. Fearing the worst I called for his assistant who said “m am on nofee blake” and hung up. Faced with a potential life and death situation moiself asked him gently if I could help in anyway. He said amidst gasps: "That f****ing room freshener cost 1500 bucks a piece and you say it smells like a decomposing dead body? Aarrgh!!"
Moiself was very hurt :( But since my colleague was in severe pain, I informed him soothingly that what I meant was that the place smelt like a deadbody that had been sprayed with perfume to keep out the bad smell out. This time poor Admin went blue in the face. I decided to retreat from the scene before he bust his gut or decided to bust mine. (The rest of the morning poor moiself sat in the cafeteria and worked from my lappie. Thank god for wireless networking!).
However the trigger happy housekeeping staff had joyfully sprayed all the buildings with the perfumed sewage gas...I mean air freshener. The toilets smelt of Alpine pine mountains that was strewn with decomposing bodies of swiss cattle. The stairwells smelt of Rose fields that used dead rats as manure and the Reception area smelt of a butchery that had ordered large bouquets of Rajnigandha flowers to mourn the carnage.
Working with my colleagues dupatta tied around my face was not helping as the managers were finding it difficult to distinguish a Silverine from a Manimekhalai from a Simran Kaur. I was asked to debug a code while Manimekhalai from Q&A was asked to create a print advertisement while Simran was asked to design a UI. (poor girl is our accountant).
The guys had no option but to cover their noses with Imperial Hotel tissue paper and Leela Palace cloth napkins (ever seen a guy carrying handkerchiefs?). Some desperados were seen covering their noses with salt and pepper shakers from Taj Residency (because ceramic flower vases from Windsor Manor are not very ideal for covering noses you see) Covering your nose and mouth and talking is rather inconvenient as some people found out.
P to V: Usn arn djfktin i mmfoor
V: What?
P: (removing the kerchief for a split second) I said you are standing on my foot !!
Complaints started pouring in from all quarters.
A: My cubicle smells like a horse is decomposing in here!
Housekeeping (wrinkling his nose): That will be Lily of the Valley perfumed air freshener saar!
B: Did someone pee in my cubicle?
Housekeeping: That is Mist Orange Spray saar.
C: There is a dead rat in my Cabin.
Housekeeping (covering his nose): That is Summer Flower Bouquet air freshener saar.
D: I smell a stink from the PM’s cabin. I think he is dead.
Housekeeping: That room was not sprayed because Mr. PM said he didn’t want to be disturbed.
D: Ah! That explains the smell.
By afternoon calm returned, the floors smelt clean with just a wee bit of lingering smell of death and decomposition.
Next day in an obscure corner of the newspaper a small news item reported that a certain air freshener supplier was assaulted and left in the Indiranagar drain by an unidentified Administration Manager of an IT company.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Oru Ancient Veera Gaatha
Long time ago in the early 1900’s a nubile young mallu lady was walking on the bund that separated the paddy fields owned by her family with that of another family. She was very pretty and very sexy* (loosely translated from the mallu word *wottahotbabe).
A virile young mallu turk was working in the other field and as fate would have it, their paths crossed. And since the virile young mallu turk was straight (as the whole Gay thing had not happened back then) an appreciative whistle escaped his lips. The young lass blushed when she heard the whistle and glanced shyly at the whistler. He was good-looking with a thin pencil moustache and stylish Weaver Bird Nest hairstyle. ( This particular hairstyle made men look at least three feet taller and hence was a rage in those days)
The sunlight glistened off his coconut-oiled hair. His well-muscled hands and legs were caked with mud from working in the fields. The nubile young mallu lady, like all nubile young ladies of her time fluttered her eyelashes and bit her lip in embarrassment and walked back home giggling. The virile young mallu turk watched her receding back appreciatively disregarding the fast drying mud on his hands and legs.
An innocent incident you must think. But this is mallu land. A verdant land of mountains that were actually mole hills. No mallu worth his salt will leave a mole hill unheightened. Unknown to the young couple curious eyes had observed the incident and the news was quickly disseminated via the various village media channels to all and sundry and their neighbors. (Media planning is an ancient mallu art.) All hell broke lose when the news was received in homes, kallu shaaps (toddy shops) and chaaya kadaas (tea shops) and the Parish Priest’s office ( the Priests attendant, known as the ‘Kapiiyaru’ has a wider reach than Doordarshan).
People discussed the incident at length and those of you who have read Mallu Whispers can guess the final Edited version of the news that was passed on word of mouth. According to the final version of the news, our virile young mallu turk had grabbed the fair and delicate wrist of the nubile young mallu lady, causing her to shriek and run home as fast as her mundu allowed. (which is a little faster than a tortoise but not as fast as a KSRTC bus)
That evening, blood curdling howls were heard in the valley. People attributed it to the evil spirits, but the howl was actually the painful moans of the virile young mallu turk scrubbing the mud off his body with coconut fibre at the creek. (He swore never to use coconut fibre again)
The next day at the young lass’s house a battle cry was sounded at 8 am. ( because the rooster failed to crow at the appointed hour of 6 am. The useless rooster in the chicken coup was in the habit of catching 40 winks in the morning. Many a war expedition in ancient Kerala was delayed due to lazy roosters. It was an alarming trend).
It was a Sunday and hence the expedition to the lad’s house was further delayed as Velliyammachi had made Appam and Stew. No one dared ignore her Appam and Stew even if the Appam tasted like rancid rubber sheet and the meat in the stew was tougher than MRF tyres. The chicken stew was always made from the meat of the last rooster who refused to crow. (Velliyammachi was a prolific rooster shopper. She bought one every week)
It was many generations later that someone discovered the reason for the toughness of meat in Velliyammachi’s stew. By then it was too late. 1456476 roosters had died in her quest for the perfect Chicken Stew.
Groaning under the heavy breakfast and indigestion the men in the family set off for the virile young mallu turk’s house. The bewildered family of the virile young mallu turk was taken aback to see a group of irate achayans come marching up the driveway (we had driveways back then for kaala vandi’s i.e. bullock carts). The achayans were fuming due to the over spiced stew and grimacing due to the indigestible Appams. It made a terrifying sight. (It was decided enroute that next time they will feed the enemy Velliyammachi’s Appam and Stew as a defensive war maneuver.)
The incensed men of the nubile young mallu lady’s family berated the virile young mallu turks family for raising a rapacious son. The family of the young lad stoutly defended his innocence and called the young lass a charlatan. This enraged the young lass’s family and a war of words ensued. The indigestion didn’t help matters and to cut the narrative short both families decided to cut off ties and vowed never to have anything to do with each other again. (The brave young mallu turk watched the proceeding with great interest from the safety of the cowshed).
After the dust had settled and the cackling of the chickens had died down, the virile young mallu turk was hauled from the cowshed and made to confess his sins at the church. The young lad like a good Christian recounted his escapades er…sins with great sincerity. The Confession went on for over two hours they say. Soon after the confession the priest died of a massive heart attack. (According to local legend his last words were “aarrrgh why did I have to join the priesthood?”)
The young lass were hurriedly married off before every eligible boy’s parents got to know of her er….encounter. (There were different classes of encounters in Kerala those days. This was Class I which was very negligible followed by Class II, Class III etc. I guess you get the idea by now).
The enmity between these two families is over six generations old now.
But the ghost or genes of the two young lovers have come to haunt the hormones of the new generation again. A boy from the young mallu turk’s family ( i.e. my family) is in love with a lass from the nubile young mallu lady’s family. The families are aghast, scandalized and incensed ( not particularly in that order). Elders from both sides refused to give permission for the union.
The two young rebels finally eloped and got married between a rape and a murder. (What I am trying to say is that they got married in court. The registration took place between a murder case and a rape case.)
And thus ended the enmity that was six generations old. Amen.
A virile young mallu turk was working in the other field and as fate would have it, their paths crossed. And since the virile young mallu turk was straight (as the whole Gay thing had not happened back then) an appreciative whistle escaped his lips. The young lass blushed when she heard the whistle and glanced shyly at the whistler. He was good-looking with a thin pencil moustache and stylish Weaver Bird Nest hairstyle. ( This particular hairstyle made men look at least three feet taller and hence was a rage in those days)
The sunlight glistened off his coconut-oiled hair. His well-muscled hands and legs were caked with mud from working in the fields. The nubile young mallu lady, like all nubile young ladies of her time fluttered her eyelashes and bit her lip in embarrassment and walked back home giggling. The virile young mallu turk watched her receding back appreciatively disregarding the fast drying mud on his hands and legs.
An innocent incident you must think. But this is mallu land. A verdant land of mountains that were actually mole hills. No mallu worth his salt will leave a mole hill unheightened. Unknown to the young couple curious eyes had observed the incident and the news was quickly disseminated via the various village media channels to all and sundry and their neighbors. (Media planning is an ancient mallu art.) All hell broke lose when the news was received in homes, kallu shaaps (toddy shops) and chaaya kadaas (tea shops) and the Parish Priest’s office ( the Priests attendant, known as the ‘Kapiiyaru’ has a wider reach than Doordarshan).
People discussed the incident at length and those of you who have read Mallu Whispers can guess the final Edited version of the news that was passed on word of mouth. According to the final version of the news, our virile young mallu turk had grabbed the fair and delicate wrist of the nubile young mallu lady, causing her to shriek and run home as fast as her mundu allowed. (which is a little faster than a tortoise but not as fast as a KSRTC bus)
That evening, blood curdling howls were heard in the valley. People attributed it to the evil spirits, but the howl was actually the painful moans of the virile young mallu turk scrubbing the mud off his body with coconut fibre at the creek. (He swore never to use coconut fibre again)
The next day at the young lass’s house a battle cry was sounded at 8 am. ( because the rooster failed to crow at the appointed hour of 6 am. The useless rooster in the chicken coup was in the habit of catching 40 winks in the morning. Many a war expedition in ancient Kerala was delayed due to lazy roosters. It was an alarming trend).
It was a Sunday and hence the expedition to the lad’s house was further delayed as Velliyammachi had made Appam and Stew. No one dared ignore her Appam and Stew even if the Appam tasted like rancid rubber sheet and the meat in the stew was tougher than MRF tyres. The chicken stew was always made from the meat of the last rooster who refused to crow. (Velliyammachi was a prolific rooster shopper. She bought one every week)
It was many generations later that someone discovered the reason for the toughness of meat in Velliyammachi’s stew. By then it was too late. 1456476 roosters had died in her quest for the perfect Chicken Stew.
Groaning under the heavy breakfast and indigestion the men in the family set off for the virile young mallu turk’s house. The bewildered family of the virile young mallu turk was taken aback to see a group of irate achayans come marching up the driveway (we had driveways back then for kaala vandi’s i.e. bullock carts). The achayans were fuming due to the over spiced stew and grimacing due to the indigestible Appams. It made a terrifying sight. (It was decided enroute that next time they will feed the enemy Velliyammachi’s Appam and Stew as a defensive war maneuver.)
The incensed men of the nubile young mallu lady’s family berated the virile young mallu turks family for raising a rapacious son. The family of the young lad stoutly defended his innocence and called the young lass a charlatan. This enraged the young lass’s family and a war of words ensued. The indigestion didn’t help matters and to cut the narrative short both families decided to cut off ties and vowed never to have anything to do with each other again. (The brave young mallu turk watched the proceeding with great interest from the safety of the cowshed).
After the dust had settled and the cackling of the chickens had died down, the virile young mallu turk was hauled from the cowshed and made to confess his sins at the church. The young lad like a good Christian recounted his escapades er…sins with great sincerity. The Confession went on for over two hours they say. Soon after the confession the priest died of a massive heart attack. (According to local legend his last words were “aarrrgh why did I have to join the priesthood?”)
The young lass were hurriedly married off before every eligible boy’s parents got to know of her er….encounter. (There were different classes of encounters in Kerala those days. This was Class I which was very negligible followed by Class II, Class III etc. I guess you get the idea by now).
The enmity between these two families is over six generations old now.
But the ghost or genes of the two young lovers have come to haunt the hormones of the new generation again. A boy from the young mallu turk’s family ( i.e. my family) is in love with a lass from the nubile young mallu lady’s family. The families are aghast, scandalized and incensed ( not particularly in that order). Elders from both sides refused to give permission for the union.
The two young rebels finally eloped and got married between a rape and a murder. (What I am trying to say is that they got married in court. The registration took place between a murder case and a rape case.)
And thus ended the enmity that was six generations old. Amen.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Communications Failure
How do you explain your profession to a generation that does not know much about Information Technology or IT marketing? I so envy you techies and Marketing/Finance/Facilities people who can explain their profession to this generation with relative ease. I went batty trying to explain the term “Communications” to 70 something Ammachi’s and Peramma’s and various Appans I met at church recently.
Unabashedly curious oldie to me: What are you working as?
Me: I am a Communications Professional.
Oldie: Adhu endhuva? (What’s that?)
Me (after some furious thinking): Well...I help sell the products my company makes.
Oldie: Oh! You are a salesgirl.
Me: No!!!! I strategize and oversee the making of communication material, participate in Trade Shows and …..
Oldie (interrupting): Trade Show?
Me: It’s like an exhibition.
Oldie: So you work in the stalls in exhibitions?
Me: Sort of
Oldie: So you are a Sales girl!
Me: No!!!! I do have to be at the stall, but it is to explain the product to visitors.
Oldie looks at me eyebrows arched and I realize that I had just described the job of a salesgirl.
Me (clenching my teeth): It is difficult to explain Ammachi.
Oldie: Likely story! My grandson is a Kompooter injineer (computer engineer). He repairs computers. (grandson is a software engineer with Infosys)
Me: Is that what he told you?
Oldie (sneering): Yes and he did not have any problems explaining his job like you did.
Me (using grandson’s simplification technique): Ok Ammachi, I am a writer
Oldie: Writer? How do you survive on the salary of a writer?
Me (smiling tightly): I manage Ammachi.
Oldie: You should have studied kompooter injineering like my grandson. But I guess it’s too late for you now.
Me: err...I have got to go. I think Amma is calling me.
Oldie (to another oldie): Poor girl. Hope she gets a boy with a decent job. This is what happens to girls who are no good in studies.
*sigh*
Unabashedly curious oldie to me: What are you working as?
Me: I am a Communications Professional.
Oldie: Adhu endhuva? (What’s that?)
Me (after some furious thinking): Well...I help sell the products my company makes.
Oldie: Oh! You are a salesgirl.
Me: No!!!! I strategize and oversee the making of communication material, participate in Trade Shows and …..
Oldie (interrupting): Trade Show?
Me: It’s like an exhibition.
Oldie: So you work in the stalls in exhibitions?
Me: Sort of
Oldie: So you are a Sales girl!
Me: No!!!! I do have to be at the stall, but it is to explain the product to visitors.
Oldie looks at me eyebrows arched and I realize that I had just described the job of a salesgirl.
Me (clenching my teeth): It is difficult to explain Ammachi.
Oldie: Likely story! My grandson is a Kompooter injineer (computer engineer). He repairs computers. (grandson is a software engineer with Infosys)
Me: Is that what he told you?
Oldie (sneering): Yes and he did not have any problems explaining his job like you did.
Me (using grandson’s simplification technique): Ok Ammachi, I am a writer
Oldie: Writer? How do you survive on the salary of a writer?
Me (smiling tightly): I manage Ammachi.
Oldie: You should have studied kompooter injineering like my grandson. But I guess it’s too late for you now.
Me: err...I have got to go. I think Amma is calling me.
Oldie (to another oldie): Poor girl. Hope she gets a boy with a decent job. This is what happens to girls who are no good in studies.
*sigh*
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Kalyana Ramans and Ramanis
Yesterday was Wedding Number One in our itinerary, after Engagement Number One in Ernakulam. We reached Muvatupuzha around mid morning after the hero of my last post, my Uncle had said a tearful goodbye to us. He had just got the bill for the PC you see.
In a gesture of rare honor that bought a tear to my eye, Jojo sent me the first ever invitation to Yahoo Chat from his new PC which I accepted from my Laptop. Such a good boy.
There was a crisis brewing in the wedding house. The groom-to-be (GTB to keep it short) declared that he would not get married until his Godmother, i.e. my Mom arrived.( His godma was minutes away enroute to his house and the wedding a good 24 hours away. Melodrama is part of the mallu wedding). The declaration worried his parents very much. His Dad was heart broken. He had 100 cases of liquor collected for the wedding you see. ( 50 cases for the pre bachelor party, bachelor party, organizing committee meetings and the wedding and 50 cases incase there was an Income tax raid during the wedding.)
His Mom was heart broken too. This was the single most important day in her last child’s life. From the time he took his first baby steps, she had a dream. She dreamt of her son growing up fast into a sturdy young man, so that she took hitch him around some gals neck and fly off to London, Paris and Rhode Island, where her daughters and a son resided. But the ingrate was not showing any signs of leaving the nest. She was sure she would be stuck in Muvattupuzha for the rest of her life.
Fortunately for them, we reached their house five minutes after GTB had made that awful declaration. The scene of Godmother and Godchild meeting were straight out of Hindi movies.
GTB: Maaa!!
Mom: Betaaa!!!
Me: Barf
Anyways soon after arrival we were immediately closeted for the “organizing committee meeting”. The wedding was high profile and a lot of volunteers were needed. But then my family is not exactly short of hands when there is booze involved. Soon we had a good crowd of volunteers and their classmates too...(in case the cops tried anything funny.)
Now don’t judge us too harshly. Meetings are thirsty affairs, especially since Kerala is quite hot at this time of the year. And mallu heat is not the sissy kinda heat you get in Chennai.( I am not talking about the Mallu Heat you get on CD’s and thatched Talkies.)
Now, my mom is no Don Vito Corleone, but a regular Godmother. I mean, prior to the baptism (naming ceremony) of the child, a male and female relation is appointed as Godfather and Godmother. Godparents are informally responsible for ensuring that the child's religious education is carried out, and for caring for the child should he/she be orphaned (logically this means that the godparents should be young and able bodied). But in Kerala, hierarchy is followed strictly and the oldest and most wizened, closest-to-the-grave-relative is given the honor. (Never mind the explanation I have given in the previous bracket, we mallus are non-conformists) And the appointment of the Godmother/Godfather causes a lot of heartburn for the parents (and hence the declining birthrate of Kerala).
The naming of the baby is also very complex (and by now very famous). The first name is often left to the parent’s choice but the middle name has to include the Christian name of an elder. Almost all the old people and their parents want their name included in the baby’s name. And no matter how many people you accommodate there will always be ill will. So the GTB’s parent took the short cut and included every aged relatives name they could muster. Legend has it that by the time they finished the naming ceremony the Priest fell down exhausted and no priest thereafter was willing to preside over any ceremony involving GTB.
The GTB was named Nitin ( first name) Joseph, Alexander, Philip, Isaac, Francis, Maradona (Dad is a huge fan and insisted), Ajith Wadekar ( mom is a great fan) Kurian, Geevarghese Thomas. J for short. (The priest presiding over his wedding was specially bought in from another district.)
Everything went fine till the Priest started the Nuptial ceremony (the actual wedding ritual).
Priest: Do you Nithin Joseph, Alexander, Philip, Isaac, Francis, Maradona, Ajith Wadekar, Kurian, Geevarghese Thomas take Shiny Marie, Sarah, Elizabeth Mary to be your lawfully wedded wife?
BTB: I do.
Priest: Do you Shiny Marie, Sarah, Elizabeth Mary take Nithin Joseph, Alexander, Philip, Isaac, Francis, Maradona, Ajith Wadekar, Kurian, Geevarghese Thomas to be your lawfully wedded husband.
Bride: Who?????? Er... I mean “I do”.
Priest ( panting): May I have some water please ?
The sermon given by the priest afterwards was rousing and he spoke at length about naming children. (He was also overheard instructing his assistant to make a thorough check on bride and bridegroom's full names before he accepted any further Wedding Mass requests.)
Yours truly was in-charge of decorating the Church and the Reception area with a bunch of volunteers below the drinking age. The famous mallu heat was countered by this ‘committee’ with Naranga Vellam (Lemon Juice) and Ice Cream.
The reception at the grooms home was a grand success. ( basically it means that there were no males left who was sober).
p.s Just read somewhere that since Malayalam has a very komblex phonetic system that makes it difficult for outsiders to understand, it was used for wireless communications in the Indo-Pakistan border. ( Never mind if Subedar Jarnail Singh, Lance Naik Kelkar, Havildaar Pranab Mukherjee and Sepoy Naik, were at the receiving end. The enemy couldn’t decipher it… and that is what matters.)
In a gesture of rare honor that bought a tear to my eye, Jojo sent me the first ever invitation to Yahoo Chat from his new PC which I accepted from my Laptop. Such a good boy.
There was a crisis brewing in the wedding house. The groom-to-be (GTB to keep it short) declared that he would not get married until his Godmother, i.e. my Mom arrived.( His godma was minutes away enroute to his house and the wedding a good 24 hours away. Melodrama is part of the mallu wedding). The declaration worried his parents very much. His Dad was heart broken. He had 100 cases of liquor collected for the wedding you see. ( 50 cases for the pre bachelor party, bachelor party, organizing committee meetings and the wedding and 50 cases incase there was an Income tax raid during the wedding.)
His Mom was heart broken too. This was the single most important day in her last child’s life. From the time he took his first baby steps, she had a dream. She dreamt of her son growing up fast into a sturdy young man, so that she took hitch him around some gals neck and fly off to London, Paris and Rhode Island, where her daughters and a son resided. But the ingrate was not showing any signs of leaving the nest. She was sure she would be stuck in Muvattupuzha for the rest of her life.
Fortunately for them, we reached their house five minutes after GTB had made that awful declaration. The scene of Godmother and Godchild meeting were straight out of Hindi movies.
GTB: Maaa!!
Mom: Betaaa!!!
Me: Barf
Anyways soon after arrival we were immediately closeted for the “organizing committee meeting”. The wedding was high profile and a lot of volunteers were needed. But then my family is not exactly short of hands when there is booze involved. Soon we had a good crowd of volunteers and their classmates too...(in case the cops tried anything funny.)
Now don’t judge us too harshly. Meetings are thirsty affairs, especially since Kerala is quite hot at this time of the year. And mallu heat is not the sissy kinda heat you get in Chennai.( I am not talking about the Mallu Heat you get on CD’s and thatched Talkies.)
Now, my mom is no Don Vito Corleone, but a regular Godmother. I mean, prior to the baptism (naming ceremony) of the child, a male and female relation is appointed as Godfather and Godmother. Godparents are informally responsible for ensuring that the child's religious education is carried out, and for caring for the child should he/she be orphaned (logically this means that the godparents should be young and able bodied). But in Kerala, hierarchy is followed strictly and the oldest and most wizened, closest-to-the-grave-relative is given the honor. (Never mind the explanation I have given in the previous bracket, we mallus are non-conformists) And the appointment of the Godmother/Godfather causes a lot of heartburn for the parents (and hence the declining birthrate of Kerala).
The naming of the baby is also very complex (and by now very famous). The first name is often left to the parent’s choice but the middle name has to include the Christian name of an elder. Almost all the old people and their parents want their name included in the baby’s name. And no matter how many people you accommodate there will always be ill will. So the GTB’s parent took the short cut and included every aged relatives name they could muster. Legend has it that by the time they finished the naming ceremony the Priest fell down exhausted and no priest thereafter was willing to preside over any ceremony involving GTB.
The GTB was named Nitin ( first name) Joseph, Alexander, Philip, Isaac, Francis, Maradona (Dad is a huge fan and insisted), Ajith Wadekar ( mom is a great fan) Kurian, Geevarghese Thomas. J for short. (The priest presiding over his wedding was specially bought in from another district.)
Everything went fine till the Priest started the Nuptial ceremony (the actual wedding ritual).
Priest: Do you Nithin Joseph, Alexander, Philip, Isaac, Francis, Maradona, Ajith Wadekar, Kurian, Geevarghese Thomas take Shiny Marie, Sarah, Elizabeth Mary to be your lawfully wedded wife?
BTB: I do.
Priest: Do you Shiny Marie, Sarah, Elizabeth Mary take Nithin Joseph, Alexander, Philip, Isaac, Francis, Maradona, Ajith Wadekar, Kurian, Geevarghese Thomas to be your lawfully wedded husband.
Bride: Who?????? Er... I mean “I do”.
Priest ( panting): May I have some water please ?
The sermon given by the priest afterwards was rousing and he spoke at length about naming children. (He was also overheard instructing his assistant to make a thorough check on bride and bridegroom's full names before he accepted any further Wedding Mass requests.)
Yours truly was in-charge of decorating the Church and the Reception area with a bunch of volunteers below the drinking age. The famous mallu heat was countered by this ‘committee’ with Naranga Vellam (Lemon Juice) and Ice Cream.
The reception at the grooms home was a grand success. ( basically it means that there were no males left who was sober).
p.s Just read somewhere that since Malayalam has a very komblex phonetic system that makes it difficult for outsiders to understand, it was used for wireless communications in the Indo-Pakistan border. ( Never mind if Subedar Jarnail Singh, Lance Naik Kelkar, Havildaar Pranab Mukherjee and Sepoy Naik, were at the receiving end. The enemy couldn’t decipher it… and that is what matters.)
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
P C Hunt
Today I went on a wild goose chase to buy a PC for my 16-year-old cousin brother Jojo. The hunt began at Ernakulam and ended, panting and gasping for breath somehwere near Kottayam. My Uncle, Jojo’s Dad thought that this would be a good opportunity to learn something about computers, besides like vegetables he was convinced that he would get a better bargain at the next shop. Sometimes the next shop was the adjacent shop while most of the time the next shop was in the next town. The result was some delicious cuisines sampled at various hotels throughout the route but no PC.
Jojo is the youngest of seven children, his eldest sibling is married with kids. The generation gap between father and son was as wide as an Apple II and a MacBook Pro. (that’s many a generations even I know) And that’s why he cleverly managed to rope me in with some novel excuses like “Achchan is a fossil” and “Only you can talk some sense into Achchan’s brainless skull”. He loves his Dad so much you see. And the feeling is mutual.
First stop XYZ Electronics
Uncle to Salesman: We want to buy a computer.
Salesman: Would you like to go in for a Laptop or Desktop?
Uncle: Duh?...ahem you talk to my niece while I hmm...look around and don’t listen to anything my dimwit son says ok?!
Jojo: Dad!!!!!!
Uncle: Keep quite.
Salesman(smirking): Sure.
I watched as my Uncle, his mundu folded up neatly, hands crossed behind him sauntered around. He reached a display of PCs. The salesman behind the counter wearing a mundu and a red Pottu must have looked quite reassuring to my Uncle.
Uncle: What is the difference between this kompooter and that?
Salesman: Intel and AMD Processors Saar.
Uncle( not understanding a word): Oh I see! And what’s the difference between what you just told me?
Salesman : Cost and speed is different saar. Besides a few other differences.
Uncle (persisting): Like what?
Salesman ( as though waiting for the cue ): Well...Intel recently switched over their motherboards from the RDR memory to the DDR memory, which AMD was utilizing. There are three reasons for the swtich blah blah blah blah. Anyone who knows computers will tell you: heat is your enemy. Heat kills processors, plain and simple. The Pentium IV processor has major heat dissipation problems blah blah blah. AMD runs cooler because it's FSB has always been a constant 266MHz, and does not cause problems with DDR memory. The AMD Athlon blah blah blah besides it is priced lower.
Uncle: I see.
He turned smartly before the Salesman could say “Cheque or Cash?” and walked into the Laptop section and peered at the display, soda glasses straddling his nose. He went around one a couple of time like I have seen him do with the cattle he intended to purchase. A smartly dressed salesman appeared next to him.
Salesman: Anything in particular you are looking for?
Uncle (Pointing to a Laptop): what is this thing?
Salesman: It is a Laptop Computer.
Uncle: What is the difference between this and that…‘kompooter’?
Salesman (showing off): Laptop and desktop computers are very similar. They have the same basic hardware, software and operating systems. The primary difference is how their components fit together. Its screen is an integrated part of the unit, as is its keyboard blah blah blah.Unlike Desktop it is much smaller and blah blah blah and it is portable.
Uncle: “Portable??????” What’s that?
Salesman: It can be carried around.
Uncle: Interesting!
Salesman: (scenting a sale): Your son can easily move his Laptop from class to library to the caféteria. It also has DVD player so your son can watch movies too.
Uncle(incensed): Oh ho!!! No son of mine is watching movies in college when he should be studying!!
Salesman ( triumphant smile drying up fast): But... !!!
Jojo(in despair): Dad!!!!
Uncle: Keep quiet! ( turning to me )Let’s go to another shop and see if we can get something that will not corrupt this brainless fellow.
By evening, after going in and out of umpteen shops, my Uncle was elated with the knowledge he had gathered. Jojo and me were very tired and did not want to see a PC or Laptop for the rest of our lives. We also knew all there was to know about Monitors, Processors, Storage Devices, Sound, Graphics and Imaging and the number of Chai Kadaas on the highway and the differences in their tea/coffee brewing styles. And we were yet to buy a PC.
Me: Uncle, you better decide soon or we will have to take a room here. It is getting late.
Uncle: What a good idea!!! Tomorrow we can drive to Trivandrum I have heard you get better computer shops there!
Me: *groan*
Jojo: Zzzzzzzzz
We did finally pick up the PC from that first shop. My by-now-very-knowledgeable Uncle insisted on an AMD processor because...the salesman was so nice and had called him “saar”.
Jojo is the youngest of seven children, his eldest sibling is married with kids. The generation gap between father and son was as wide as an Apple II and a MacBook Pro. (that’s many a generations even I know) And that’s why he cleverly managed to rope me in with some novel excuses like “Achchan is a fossil” and “Only you can talk some sense into Achchan’s brainless skull”. He loves his Dad so much you see. And the feeling is mutual.
First stop XYZ Electronics
Uncle to Salesman: We want to buy a computer.
Salesman: Would you like to go in for a Laptop or Desktop?
Uncle: Duh?...ahem you talk to my niece while I hmm...look around and don’t listen to anything my dimwit son says ok?!
Jojo: Dad!!!!!!
Uncle: Keep quite.
Salesman(smirking): Sure.
I watched as my Uncle, his mundu folded up neatly, hands crossed behind him sauntered around. He reached a display of PCs. The salesman behind the counter wearing a mundu and a red Pottu must have looked quite reassuring to my Uncle.
Uncle: What is the difference between this kompooter and that?
Salesman: Intel and AMD Processors Saar.
Uncle( not understanding a word): Oh I see! And what’s the difference between what you just told me?
Salesman : Cost and speed is different saar. Besides a few other differences.
Uncle (persisting): Like what?
Salesman ( as though waiting for the cue ): Well...Intel recently switched over their motherboards from the RDR memory to the DDR memory, which AMD was utilizing. There are three reasons for the swtich blah blah blah blah. Anyone who knows computers will tell you: heat is your enemy. Heat kills processors, plain and simple. The Pentium IV processor has major heat dissipation problems blah blah blah. AMD runs cooler because it's FSB has always been a constant 266MHz, and does not cause problems with DDR memory. The AMD Athlon blah blah blah besides it is priced lower.
Uncle: I see.
He turned smartly before the Salesman could say “Cheque or Cash?” and walked into the Laptop section and peered at the display, soda glasses straddling his nose. He went around one a couple of time like I have seen him do with the cattle he intended to purchase. A smartly dressed salesman appeared next to him.
Salesman: Anything in particular you are looking for?
Uncle (Pointing to a Laptop): what is this thing?
Salesman: It is a Laptop Computer.
Uncle: What is the difference between this and that…‘kompooter’?
Salesman (showing off): Laptop and desktop computers are very similar. They have the same basic hardware, software and operating systems. The primary difference is how their components fit together. Its screen is an integrated part of the unit, as is its keyboard blah blah blah.Unlike Desktop it is much smaller and blah blah blah and it is portable.
Uncle: “Portable??????” What’s that?
Salesman: It can be carried around.
Uncle: Interesting!
Salesman: (scenting a sale): Your son can easily move his Laptop from class to library to the caféteria. It also has DVD player so your son can watch movies too.
Uncle(incensed): Oh ho!!! No son of mine is watching movies in college when he should be studying!!
Salesman ( triumphant smile drying up fast): But... !!!
Jojo(in despair): Dad!!!!
Uncle: Keep quiet! ( turning to me )Let’s go to another shop and see if we can get something that will not corrupt this brainless fellow.
By evening, after going in and out of umpteen shops, my Uncle was elated with the knowledge he had gathered. Jojo and me were very tired and did not want to see a PC or Laptop for the rest of our lives. We also knew all there was to know about Monitors, Processors, Storage Devices, Sound, Graphics and Imaging and the number of Chai Kadaas on the highway and the differences in their tea/coffee brewing styles. And we were yet to buy a PC.
Me: Uncle, you better decide soon or we will have to take a room here. It is getting late.
Uncle: What a good idea!!! Tomorrow we can drive to Trivandrum I have heard you get better computer shops there!
Me: *groan*
Jojo: Zzzzzzzzz
We did finally pick up the PC from that first shop. My by-now-very-knowledgeable Uncle insisted on an AMD processor because...the salesman was so nice and had called him “saar”.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Operation Eye Balls
After a real nice vacation I think you will all agree that the last thing you want to see in your mail box are spam and mails stripped of malicious attachments! I spent nearly an hour sorting through genuine mails and deleting mails carrying these er...works-of-art. (a.k.a. Virus/Worms/Trojans/Spam.) That is a good hour of billed time I wasted. For God’s sake all you spammers and malicious programmers don’t you have a life? Maybe a girlfriend/boyfriend or a pimple that you wanna squeeze and burst? I guess not... seeing how busy you have been spamming me 24/7.
By now I have wised up and delete all mails with corny subjects like these...
I love you (but the feeling is not mutual dahling)
S**y picture (thanks for pointing it out, else I would have framed and hung it up)
Re: Enquiry (wow! this is the first time I have got a reply to an Enquiry)
Is that your password? ( hmm it does look familiar)
Re: improved (Ah I remember, you were selling Viagra last time, self medicating yourself yeah?)
Re: Valium news (It better be juicy news!)
Re: excel document (so Excel and Word had a love child? Does Bill know about this?)
For gods sake if you really want to infect PC’s and your spam mails read, then why not go for creative “Subjects”? I am more or less resigned to the inevitability of death, taxes and spam, so why not let me help you spammers/malicious programmers for a small fee?
Take a look at the sample "Subject" matter that I have created that will definitely make the receiver read your mails.
Hi, this is me from the next cubicle :) : Guaranteed to be read at the speed of light if recipient is male. Females will read it out of curiosity anyway. (Audio file of fluttering eye lashes can be arranged for an additional charge.)
Saw you in on my floor today,you are so handsome: Mail will read with gleeful look if recipient is male. Females as usual will read it out of curiosity.
Guess who HR was with yesterday night? Pictures attached: Attachments will be opened in record speed.
Shocking!!!! PM misbehaves with J. See attachment. Attachment opening guaranteed with vicarious glee on face even if there is no J in the company.
I am too shy to talk to you hence this mail: Mail reading guaranteed after furtive looks to see if the coast is clear.
Your performance appraisal: Attachment opening guaranteed in zero seconds
Your Manager’s Performance Appraisal Report, careful!: Guaranteed opening with evil grin on face.
Confidential: PL’s browsing history: Attachment forwarding guaranteed to 374343 people even before opening.
Complaints against you from your Reporting Manager: Attachment opening guaranteed after recipient says a brief ‘puja’.
And there is more where this comes from. If any of you creative people are reading this, do get in touch with me. My replies to you always bounce. My services are reasonably priced. Satisfaction guaranteed. And if you don’t want my services, then I will hire a spammer to spam you till you agree to buy.
Disclaimer: Samples shown here will work in IT companies only. For other organizations an additional “research” charge will be levied.
When you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em ;)
By now I have wised up and delete all mails with corny subjects like these...
I love you (but the feeling is not mutual dahling)
S**y picture (thanks for pointing it out, else I would have framed and hung it up)
Re: Enquiry (wow! this is the first time I have got a reply to an Enquiry)
Is that your password? ( hmm it does look familiar)
Re: improved (Ah I remember, you were selling Viagra last time, self medicating yourself yeah?)
Re: Valium news (It better be juicy news!)
Re: excel document (so Excel and Word had a love child? Does Bill know about this?)
For gods sake if you really want to infect PC’s and your spam mails read, then why not go for creative “Subjects”? I am more or less resigned to the inevitability of death, taxes and spam, so why not let me help you spammers/malicious programmers for a small fee?
Take a look at the sample "Subject" matter that I have created that will definitely make the receiver read your mails.
Hi, this is me from the next cubicle :) : Guaranteed to be read at the speed of light if recipient is male. Females will read it out of curiosity anyway. (Audio file of fluttering eye lashes can be arranged for an additional charge.)
Saw you in on my floor today,you are so handsome: Mail will read with gleeful look if recipient is male. Females as usual will read it out of curiosity.
Guess who HR was with yesterday night? Pictures attached: Attachments will be opened in record speed.
Shocking!!!! PM misbehaves with J. See attachment. Attachment opening guaranteed with vicarious glee on face even if there is no J in the company.
I am too shy to talk to you hence this mail: Mail reading guaranteed after furtive looks to see if the coast is clear.
Your performance appraisal: Attachment opening guaranteed in zero seconds
Your Manager’s Performance Appraisal Report, careful!: Guaranteed opening with evil grin on face.
Confidential: PL’s browsing history: Attachment forwarding guaranteed to 374343 people even before opening.
Complaints against you from your Reporting Manager: Attachment opening guaranteed after recipient says a brief ‘puja’.
And there is more where this comes from. If any of you creative people are reading this, do get in touch with me. My replies to you always bounce. My services are reasonably priced. Satisfaction guaranteed. And if you don’t want my services, then I will hire a spammer to spam you till you agree to buy.
Disclaimer: Samples shown here will work in IT companies only. For other organizations an additional “research” charge will be levied.
When you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em ;)
Friday, May 05, 2006
These are a few of my favorite things…
This is a Tag. Name 10 of life's simple pleasures that you like the most and then pick 10 people (you are invited to attempt this tag ) to do the same (I took Mind Curry's open invitation). Try to be original and creative and not to use the things someone else has already used.
Learning something new: I like to learn new stuff and also to learn more about things I love, like cooking and gardening. It is such a pleasure to then try it out and get it right!
The Nilgiri's: These Mountains are a haven to which I escape as often as I can. It is such a pleasure just being there.
Laughing: I like to read humor and laugh with friends over silly stuff like only gals do.
Silence: I love the sound of nothingness save for the chirping of birds.
Kerala: Love the place and going there and walking around in the quite Parambu is a simple but exquisite pleasure.
State of being content: When everything goes well and you feel you have done your best and there is no niggling feeling of something not quite right.
Flowers: I love flowers and I never pluck them. Love to see flowers growing on plants and shaking gently in the wind.
Rains: I love rains, even with it’s squishyness and muddiness and the fact that it deprives me of my evening walks. and the smell of the Earth after the showers is heavenly.
Walking: I love walking and thinking. And sometimes it is creeping tiredness that reminds me that I have to stop.
Swing: I love to ‘swing’ as in sitting on an ‘oonjaal’ and swinging. Can do that non stop. I still have a swing in the house.
Learning something new: I like to learn new stuff and also to learn more about things I love, like cooking and gardening. It is such a pleasure to then try it out and get it right!
The Nilgiri's: These Mountains are a haven to which I escape as often as I can. It is such a pleasure just being there.
Laughing: I like to read humor and laugh with friends over silly stuff like only gals do.
Silence: I love the sound of nothingness save for the chirping of birds.
Kerala: Love the place and going there and walking around in the quite Parambu is a simple but exquisite pleasure.
State of being content: When everything goes well and you feel you have done your best and there is no niggling feeling of something not quite right.
Flowers: I love flowers and I never pluck them. Love to see flowers growing on plants and shaking gently in the wind.
Rains: I love rains, even with it’s squishyness and muddiness and the fact that it deprives me of my evening walks. and the smell of the Earth after the showers is heavenly.
Walking: I love walking and thinking. And sometimes it is creeping tiredness that reminds me that I have to stop.
Swing: I love to ‘swing’ as in sitting on an ‘oonjaal’ and swinging. Can do that non stop. I still have a swing in the house.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Consistently inconsistent
The Tea and Coffee served on Indian Airlines is brewed by expert brewers with ingredients that are checked for quality and freshness. We also take great care to ensure consistency in quality and services in all our sectors.
This was the response that a friend of mine got from the Catering Manager, for a complaint that she filed with Indian Airlines for the weak and insipid Tea served in inflight. I am sure the Catering Manager was being honest.
Head Loader IA: Sir, I am due for promotion.
IA Officer: hmm do you know how to make Tea and Coffee?
Loader: Yes, sir.
IA officer: Ok you are hereby being promoted and transferred to the catering Department. Your new designation will be Tea and Coffee Brewer.
I have noticed that Consistency has been the trademark of IA since my earlier flights in the 80's. It is no mean feat to maintain consistency in service whether in flight or otherwise.
Flight XYZ to Delhi, 1988
Breakfast Menu:
Tasteless Idli/Sambhar/Omelette
Croissant
Jam
Butter
Fruit juice
Luke warm Tea/coffee
Flight XYZ to Delhi, 2006
Breakfast Menu:
Tasteless Idli/Sambhar/ Omelette
Croissant
Jam
Butter
Fruit juice
Luke warm Tea/coffee
That's called Consistency of In-flight Cuisine.
Flight XYZ to Mumbai, 1989
Me: Please ma'am, can I have some water?
IA Air Hostess: No!
Flight XYZ to Mumbai, 2005
Me: Can I have some water please?
IA Hostess: No!
That's called Consistency of In Flight Service.
Flight XYZ to Cochin, 2000
Me: Can I have an Aisle seat please ?
Booking Counter guy: All aisle seats are taken.
Flight XYZ to Cochin, 2004
Me: Can I have an Aisle seat please ?
Booking Counter guy: I told you three years ago that the all the aisle seats have been taken!!!!
That's called Consistency in Ground Service.
And finally:
Flight XYZ from Bangalore to Delhi, April 2006
Announcement over the PA.
Indian airlines Flight IC XYZ from Bangalore to Delhi is delayed due to technical problems. We regret the inconvenience caused to passengers.
Flight XYZ from Delhi to Bangalore, April 2006
Announcement over the PA.
Indian airlines Flight IC XYZ from Delhi to Bangalore is delayed due to late arrival of aircraft. We regret the inconvenience caused to passengers.
Well...you got to excuse them for this one lapse in Consistency. They are human after all.
This was the response that a friend of mine got from the Catering Manager, for a complaint that she filed with Indian Airlines for the weak and insipid Tea served in inflight. I am sure the Catering Manager was being honest.
Head Loader IA: Sir, I am due for promotion.
IA Officer: hmm do you know how to make Tea and Coffee?
Loader: Yes, sir.
IA officer: Ok you are hereby being promoted and transferred to the catering Department. Your new designation will be Tea and Coffee Brewer.
I have noticed that Consistency has been the trademark of IA since my earlier flights in the 80's. It is no mean feat to maintain consistency in service whether in flight or otherwise.
Flight XYZ to Delhi, 1988
Breakfast Menu:
Tasteless Idli/Sambhar/Omelette
Croissant
Jam
Butter
Fruit juice
Luke warm Tea/coffee
Flight XYZ to Delhi, 2006
Breakfast Menu:
Tasteless Idli/Sambhar/ Omelette
Croissant
Jam
Butter
Fruit juice
Luke warm Tea/coffee
That's called Consistency of In-flight Cuisine.
Flight XYZ to Mumbai, 1989
Me: Please ma'am, can I have some water?
IA Air Hostess: No!
Flight XYZ to Mumbai, 2005
Me: Can I have some water please?
IA Hostess: No!
That's called Consistency of In Flight Service.
Flight XYZ to Cochin, 2000
Me: Can I have an Aisle seat please ?
Booking Counter guy: All aisle seats are taken.
Flight XYZ to Cochin, 2004
Me: Can I have an Aisle seat please ?
Booking Counter guy: I told you three years ago that the all the aisle seats have been taken!!!!
That's called Consistency in Ground Service.
And finally:
Flight XYZ from Bangalore to Delhi, April 2006
Announcement over the PA.
Indian airlines Flight IC XYZ from Bangalore to Delhi is delayed due to technical problems. We regret the inconvenience caused to passengers.
Flight XYZ from Delhi to Bangalore, April 2006
Announcement over the PA.
Indian airlines Flight IC XYZ from Delhi to Bangalore is delayed due to late arrival of aircraft. We regret the inconvenience caused to passengers.
Well...you got to excuse them for this one lapse in Consistency. They are human after all.
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.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Raja
Last year on her visit to Kerala my mom picked up an unusual pet. The dogs at home were ‘foreign’ breeds unlike the mallu mongrels (the canine breed dear reader) that roam the sylvan Kerala countryside she said. So she decided that she would bring something from her native place that would remind her of home. Imagine our shock when the good lady gets down from the car and removes a cane basket from the boot. Then with a mysterious glint in her eyes she walks into the house. After looking at each other in bemusement and wondering aloud about creature she has picked up from Kerala, we hurried inside.
She was in the backyard, gingerly opening the lid of the basket. As soon as she opened the lid, there was a fluttering and squawking and out jumped an enormous ‘naadan’ Rooster. The rooster took to his heels and ran helter skelter as though exercising his legs after the long journey cramped in the economy class of the basket. The four of us i.e. Dad, my brothers couldn’t believe our eyes. Of all the creatures in the world my mom thought of a Rooster????
After our rather dramatic introduction to the rooster, we were told by his proud owner i.e. my mom that she had decided to call him Raja!!! There was pin drop silence after she dropped this bit of info. I could almost touch the wise cracks that were hanging in the air unsaid, but we wisely refrained from clever remarks till later, like when she was out of earshot. Before my Dad could say "So when will we get to taste Raja?" my mom shot down the question with a "Don’t even think about it!" After 30 years of marriage, she knew that this would be first thing that would come to his mind.
The first thing my mom learnt rather painfully was that Raja was a hot-blooded young man, much vaunt to showing off in front of the ‘ladies’ from the village nearby. So it was difficult to keep him within the four walls of our compound. He easily flew to the wall and jumped down for his trysts with the ‘ladies’. My Dad thought that Raja had great potential. He told my mom rather flippantly that if she charged a rupee for every one of his ‘trysts’ she would be a millionaire by the end of the month. The remark didn’t go down too well and further explanations are with held.
The second painful lesson my Mom learnt was that since the time she had learned English way back in the 70’s, the language had changed quite a bit. So when she asked me "Where is the cock?" she couldn’t comprehend the reaction from my brother and his friends lounging nearby. The resultant explanation given by me left her rather red faced. She never used the ‘English’ word again and stuck by the mallu word “Kozhipoovan”.
Raja was a rebel too. He would crow only when the fancy struck him or a ‘lady’ passed by. He refused to wake up the household in the morning. He didn’t quite feel that it was his style. So just when we are having evening tea, he would let out a lusty “Cock-a-doodle dooo” startling us out of our skins. Once he shook the house with his crowing at 4 am. I didn’t know till then that my Dad could curse so fluently even at such an unearthly hour.
Then came disaster in the form of Mr. Rao, who had a clutch of Leghorn layers (egg laying birds) in his yard. Mr. Rao was an organic farmer and his brood was totally bought up on organic food. Raja in all honesty felt he was a very "organic" fellow and the result was disastrous. His "organic" trysts were soon discovered by Mr. Rao, who gave an earful to my Dad in very "inorganic" language.
Soon it became apparent to my Mom that she would have to curtail the love life of The King of good times or spend the rest of her days in various lower courts. My brother thought "Tandoori Raja" would be an excellent idea in curtailment. My mother told him rather sarcastically that if "Tandoori Raja" was a sure fire cure then she wouldn’t mind trying "Tandoori Son" very soon.
Finally after much conferring with our Vet, my Mom decided to build an enclosure to keep Raja’s libido in check...err I mean Raja in check. He is right now in his brand new enclosure and not too happy about it. And if I stay here another second, his loud protest crowing and clucking will drive me nuts. I have been so ready since early morning to go to the airport for the evening flight.
See you folks next week. Take care. I am off to Simla :)
She was in the backyard, gingerly opening the lid of the basket. As soon as she opened the lid, there was a fluttering and squawking and out jumped an enormous ‘naadan’ Rooster. The rooster took to his heels and ran helter skelter as though exercising his legs after the long journey cramped in the economy class of the basket. The four of us i.e. Dad, my brothers couldn’t believe our eyes. Of all the creatures in the world my mom thought of a Rooster????
After our rather dramatic introduction to the rooster, we were told by his proud owner i.e. my mom that she had decided to call him Raja!!! There was pin drop silence after she dropped this bit of info. I could almost touch the wise cracks that were hanging in the air unsaid, but we wisely refrained from clever remarks till later, like when she was out of earshot. Before my Dad could say "So when will we get to taste Raja?" my mom shot down the question with a "Don’t even think about it!" After 30 years of marriage, she knew that this would be first thing that would come to his mind.
The first thing my mom learnt rather painfully was that Raja was a hot-blooded young man, much vaunt to showing off in front of the ‘ladies’ from the village nearby. So it was difficult to keep him within the four walls of our compound. He easily flew to the wall and jumped down for his trysts with the ‘ladies’. My Dad thought that Raja had great potential. He told my mom rather flippantly that if she charged a rupee for every one of his ‘trysts’ she would be a millionaire by the end of the month. The remark didn’t go down too well and further explanations are with held.
The second painful lesson my Mom learnt was that since the time she had learned English way back in the 70’s, the language had changed quite a bit. So when she asked me "Where is the cock?" she couldn’t comprehend the reaction from my brother and his friends lounging nearby. The resultant explanation given by me left her rather red faced. She never used the ‘English’ word again and stuck by the mallu word “Kozhipoovan”.
Raja was a rebel too. He would crow only when the fancy struck him or a ‘lady’ passed by. He refused to wake up the household in the morning. He didn’t quite feel that it was his style. So just when we are having evening tea, he would let out a lusty “Cock-a-doodle dooo” startling us out of our skins. Once he shook the house with his crowing at 4 am. I didn’t know till then that my Dad could curse so fluently even at such an unearthly hour.
Then came disaster in the form of Mr. Rao, who had a clutch of Leghorn layers (egg laying birds) in his yard. Mr. Rao was an organic farmer and his brood was totally bought up on organic food. Raja in all honesty felt he was a very "organic" fellow and the result was disastrous. His "organic" trysts were soon discovered by Mr. Rao, who gave an earful to my Dad in very "inorganic" language.
Soon it became apparent to my Mom that she would have to curtail the love life of The King of good times or spend the rest of her days in various lower courts. My brother thought "Tandoori Raja" would be an excellent idea in curtailment. My mother told him rather sarcastically that if "Tandoori Raja" was a sure fire cure then she wouldn’t mind trying "Tandoori Son" very soon.
Finally after much conferring with our Vet, my Mom decided to build an enclosure to keep Raja’s libido in check...err I mean Raja in check. He is right now in his brand new enclosure and not too happy about it. And if I stay here another second, his loud protest crowing and clucking will drive me nuts. I have been so ready since early morning to go to the airport for the evening flight.
See you folks next week. Take care. I am off to Simla :)
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
India Pak Peace Talks
India and Pakistan have been in a dialogue till now. Representatives of the two longtime adversaries, agreed to a timetable for a series of high-level meetings over the next several months. Expert opinions differ. Some are wary because of the history of animosity. Other experts, however, say that this time around might be different. The U.S. ambassador to India, told a Council on Foreign Relations meeting that he saw excellent chances for success in these talks.
The first such meeting was held in New Delhi last month.This reporter was privy to all meetings.
Foreign Secretary India: What should we have for our lunch discussion today?
Foreign Secretary Pakistan: Tangdi Kabab, Dal Makhani and Tandoori Roti?
Foreign Secretary India: Absolutely not. Lets have Masala Dosa instead.
Foreign Secretary Pakistan (aghast): Masala Dosa ??? UGH *hmph*
The first round of talks failed and the meeting was adjourned to the next month at Islamabad.
Indian Foreign Secretary: What is the menu for our dinner discussions?
Foreign Secretary Pakistan: Mutton Biryani, Lachedaar Paraatha and Sherbet
Indian Foreign Secretary: What??? No Curd Rice ?
Foreign Secretary Pakistan: er...what's Curd Rice?
Foreign Secretary India: How inconsiderate !!!*hmph*
The failure of the second round of talks was greeted with dismay by the international community .The resultant International pressure has led to the convening of a Ministerial level meeting in Simla.
Indian Minister: Welcome brother. We have arranged an excellent Mujra by Miss Masala after our Dinner talks.
Pakistani Minister( sulking): I want Aishwarya Rai to do the mujra.
Indian Minister: Well...our budget would not permit that.
Pakistani Minister: Then I am not talking to you. *hmph*
It was clear after the Ministerial level talks that there were irrevocable differences between the two countries and it has been decided that both Foreign Ministers would meet in Rawalpindi next.
Pakistani Minister: Salaam Alekum, we are honored by your presence here. What would you like to drink?
Indian Minister: Bhaang!!
Pakistani Minister: I am afraid we do not have Bhaang. I have Blue Label Whiskey specially ordered for you.
Indian Minister: You dont' have Bhaang?? Then I am not talking to you. *hmph*
According to inside sources, the high level discussions collapsed after India insisted that Pakistan stop supporting terrorists in Kashmir, and Pakistan insisted that India include final-status discussions on Kashmir as part of any future talks.
The first such meeting was held in New Delhi last month.This reporter was privy to all meetings.
Foreign Secretary India: What should we have for our lunch discussion today?
Foreign Secretary Pakistan: Tangdi Kabab, Dal Makhani and Tandoori Roti?
Foreign Secretary India: Absolutely not. Lets have Masala Dosa instead.
Foreign Secretary Pakistan (aghast): Masala Dosa ??? UGH *hmph*
The first round of talks failed and the meeting was adjourned to the next month at Islamabad.
Indian Foreign Secretary: What is the menu for our dinner discussions?
Foreign Secretary Pakistan: Mutton Biryani, Lachedaar Paraatha and Sherbet
Indian Foreign Secretary: What??? No Curd Rice ?
Foreign Secretary Pakistan: er...what's Curd Rice?
Foreign Secretary India: How inconsiderate !!!*hmph*
The failure of the second round of talks was greeted with dismay by the international community .The resultant International pressure has led to the convening of a Ministerial level meeting in Simla.
Indian Minister: Welcome brother. We have arranged an excellent Mujra by Miss Masala after our Dinner talks.
Pakistani Minister( sulking): I want Aishwarya Rai to do the mujra.
Indian Minister: Well...our budget would not permit that.
Pakistani Minister: Then I am not talking to you. *hmph*
It was clear after the Ministerial level talks that there were irrevocable differences between the two countries and it has been decided that both Foreign Ministers would meet in Rawalpindi next.
Pakistani Minister: Salaam Alekum, we are honored by your presence here. What would you like to drink?
Indian Minister: Bhaang!!
Pakistani Minister: I am afraid we do not have Bhaang. I have Blue Label Whiskey specially ordered for you.
Indian Minister: You dont' have Bhaang?? Then I am not talking to you. *hmph*
According to inside sources, the high level discussions collapsed after India insisted that Pakistan stop supporting terrorists in Kashmir, and Pakistan insisted that India include final-status discussions on Kashmir as part of any future talks.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
The Wanderer's Tags
I have been tagged by the great wanderer of the netherworld, cosmic voyager, Trans astral zig zagger the one and only Anand K.
5 people who top your shit list..... and why:
Indira Gandhi for The Simla Agreement.
Rajiv Gandhi for promising to take the country into the 21st Century and doing scant about it.
L.K. Advani for shamelesslesly escorting and handing over the imprisoned terrorists in exchange for the Indian airlines aircraft hijacked to Kandahar.
Indian intelligence agencies for failing to nab the big guns who have been wreaking havoc in the country from abroad
The Indian electorate for never realizing the power of their votes and capitalizing on the same.
Close brushes with death/danger:
1.On the road to Sikkim when an army truck nearly pushed us to oblivion into the Teesta river.
2. When I contracted Diphtheria as a baby and the doctor refused to accept my mother’s diagnosis. My folks had to rush me to Ernakulam Lissy Hospital in the night where they performed an emergency operation to open up the tissue that had already covered my throat.
5 Preferable modes of suicide, in descending order:
Never thought of suicide before, but I know the extreme pain of a broken hand and the excruciating moments before you arrive at the hospital. That one time I wished I were just dead. Fortunately before I could formulate an elaborate plan to kill myself the doc gave me a pain killer and suddenly I wanted to live again :)
But if I have to go meet my maker and ask him why he made this world, then I would prefer it be quick and painless like I don’t know how frankly.
5 Guilty pleasures:
Rum and Cola
Beer and Sprite (Shandy) in equal proportions
Eggs... I can eat any amount of eggs. I am an eggaholic and need at least one a day, possibly more…but the good doc has put the fear of God’s wrath for the sin of gluttony in the form of Cholesterol :(
Barbabra Cartland and Mills and Boon books ( this is my deepest darkest secret)
Black and White Malayalam Movies (can’t get enough of that and that’s why RG is in my dislike list. It is frustrating to see the abject helplessness of people in the pre liberalization days)
5 things you never want to forget:
1.To thank God every morning and before going to bed every night for being alive, having my limbs and faculties intact and the blessing of my family.
2.The Grand Family South India Trip, which left from Kerala in two buses, after my final exams in the last year of college. I don’t remember having so much fun ever.
3.My parent’s Silver Jubilee a few years back. We made our parents the blushing bride and groom by digging out their deep and dark secrets from their families, like the things they during their youth and after their engagement. First prize went for not being caught going for a movie together after the Engagement ( but this is Kerala and someone invariably knew). All the deep dark secrets were then read out at the Reception, which led to a lot of other skeletons from other couples cupboards come tumbling as some Achayans got slightly tipsy and very bold with the mike. A tipsy Achayan with a mike in hand is a disaster I learnt while ROFL.
4.My 21st birthday, my friends got together and gave me a surprise party before class complete with a cake shaped like a key.
5.My First Holy Communion
6.The day I became a Godmother to my cousin sister’s daughter
5 things you wish to forget:
1. 4th Standard: I was to recite a poem in a Poetry contest but forgot the lines on the stage. But I did remember that I had to bow after the recitation so bowed and left the stage.
2. 6th Standard: Independence Day Dance competition. My Rajasthani blouse string came undone and I bolted from the stage much to the bewilderment of the audience.
3. Soon after learning to drive I tried to reverse the car in a sharp U turn on Hosur Road. The car got stuck leading to a huge traffic pile up. Finally a tempo driver took over the car and reversed it for me. I did manage to show the finger to the KSRTC conductor who was cursing me fluently.
4. Scraped my hand while falling from a tree and didn’t tell anyone at home as I was forbidden to climb that tree close to the power lines. The wound festered leading to high fever and hospitalization, where they discovered the root of the trouble. It was an *ouch* painful experience.
5. The day my Grandfather died of lung cancer. He was a chain smoker but the best grandpa a girl could have.
5 really exotic dishes you have tried:
1. Frog legs ( at least that’s what they told it was )
2. Camel meat curry
3. Tiramisu
4. Handmade chocolate with peppermint filling( It was exotic the first time I tried it)
5. Injera and Chicken Curry Ethiopian ishtyle
5 crushes/loves in your life... in chronological order
1. I forget the priest’s name who came for Friday mass to our school. He was Goan and the entire school had a crush on him. So prayer responses went like this.
Priest: And may God bless all of you
Us: Sighhhhhhh (instead of ‘Amen’)
Priest: And may the Peace of the Lord be with you always!
Us: *droool*
2. My PT Teacher: forget his name.
3. Tom Selleck (the crush lives on to this day)
4. Harrison Ford (he still rulez)
5. Matt Le Blanc
Strangest dream you ever had:
I had a Doberman called Mika when I was 12 years old. Mika was sick and my parents didn’t tell me that she wasn’t going to live. One day my Grandad appeared in my dream and told me that he had come to take Mika. I woke up later and went to check on Mika. She was dead. The dream avoided a major heart break as I was very attached to Mika and felt she was with my Grandad in heaven. ( Mika I still love you)
5 most valued personal possessions:
1. The books gifted to me by my Grandad.
2. The Viewmaster that he bought from the US for my mom which he gave me.
3. The numerous audio and videotapes of birthdays, weddings, engagements etc that took place in the family.
4. My portfolio of creative work done during my ad agency days.
5. My grandmom’s wedding ring.
5 favorite superheroes..... and why: ( Redone as Anand wanted a 'brief' on superheroes who wear their underwear over their pants and fly and send thunderbolts from their eyes and fight all those monsters etc.)
a) Phantom: The first underwear over pant superhero, he appears from the shadows to deal with criminals and disappears after leaving his trademark, the 'skull' embedded on their skin.
b) Mandrake the Magician: He didnt exactly wear his undies over his pants but hey he was a magician and a real one at that who used his magical powers to fight crime.
c)Flash Gordon: The planet hopping superhero who flew so effortlessly across space. Fascinating.
d) Tarzan: Was raised by Apes and lived in the jungles and seemed to live a fascinating life talking to animals and getting their help to beat up the baddies.
e) Batman: The Dark Knight in Skintights :p His quest to fight crimes like the one that killed his parents was such a thrill read.
And now all of you cowering under the tables, beds and behind doors, I see you and hereby tag you to carry on the task that was entrusted to me by HRH Anand K.
Best of luck, If I tell ya, I'll have to kill ya , Ganja Turtle ,
Alexis Leon , Fleiger, Aashik , flaashgordon , Injinuity .
HAPPY EASTER EVERYBODY!!!!
5 people who top your shit list..... and why:
Indira Gandhi for The Simla Agreement.
Rajiv Gandhi for promising to take the country into the 21st Century and doing scant about it.
L.K. Advani for shamelesslesly escorting and handing over the imprisoned terrorists in exchange for the Indian airlines aircraft hijacked to Kandahar.
Indian intelligence agencies for failing to nab the big guns who have been wreaking havoc in the country from abroad
The Indian electorate for never realizing the power of their votes and capitalizing on the same.
Close brushes with death/danger:
1.On the road to Sikkim when an army truck nearly pushed us to oblivion into the Teesta river.
2. When I contracted Diphtheria as a baby and the doctor refused to accept my mother’s diagnosis. My folks had to rush me to Ernakulam Lissy Hospital in the night where they performed an emergency operation to open up the tissue that had already covered my throat.
5 Preferable modes of suicide, in descending order:
Never thought of suicide before, but I know the extreme pain of a broken hand and the excruciating moments before you arrive at the hospital. That one time I wished I were just dead. Fortunately before I could formulate an elaborate plan to kill myself the doc gave me a pain killer and suddenly I wanted to live again :)
But if I have to go meet my maker and ask him why he made this world, then I would prefer it be quick and painless like I don’t know how frankly.
5 Guilty pleasures:
Rum and Cola
Beer and Sprite (Shandy) in equal proportions
Eggs... I can eat any amount of eggs. I am an eggaholic and need at least one a day, possibly more…but the good doc has put the fear of God’s wrath for the sin of gluttony in the form of Cholesterol :(
Barbabra Cartland and Mills and Boon books ( this is my deepest darkest secret)
Black and White Malayalam Movies (can’t get enough of that and that’s why RG is in my dislike list. It is frustrating to see the abject helplessness of people in the pre liberalization days)
5 things you never want to forget:
1.To thank God every morning and before going to bed every night for being alive, having my limbs and faculties intact and the blessing of my family.
2.The Grand Family South India Trip, which left from Kerala in two buses, after my final exams in the last year of college. I don’t remember having so much fun ever.
3.My parent’s Silver Jubilee a few years back. We made our parents the blushing bride and groom by digging out their deep and dark secrets from their families, like the things they during their youth and after their engagement. First prize went for not being caught going for a movie together after the Engagement ( but this is Kerala and someone invariably knew). All the deep dark secrets were then read out at the Reception, which led to a lot of other skeletons from other couples cupboards come tumbling as some Achayans got slightly tipsy and very bold with the mike. A tipsy Achayan with a mike in hand is a disaster I learnt while ROFL.
4.My 21st birthday, my friends got together and gave me a surprise party before class complete with a cake shaped like a key.
5.My First Holy Communion
6.The day I became a Godmother to my cousin sister’s daughter
5 things you wish to forget:
1. 4th Standard: I was to recite a poem in a Poetry contest but forgot the lines on the stage. But I did remember that I had to bow after the recitation so bowed and left the stage.
2. 6th Standard: Independence Day Dance competition. My Rajasthani blouse string came undone and I bolted from the stage much to the bewilderment of the audience.
3. Soon after learning to drive I tried to reverse the car in a sharp U turn on Hosur Road. The car got stuck leading to a huge traffic pile up. Finally a tempo driver took over the car and reversed it for me. I did manage to show the finger to the KSRTC conductor who was cursing me fluently.
4. Scraped my hand while falling from a tree and didn’t tell anyone at home as I was forbidden to climb that tree close to the power lines. The wound festered leading to high fever and hospitalization, where they discovered the root of the trouble. It was an *ouch* painful experience.
5. The day my Grandfather died of lung cancer. He was a chain smoker but the best grandpa a girl could have.
5 really exotic dishes you have tried:
1. Frog legs ( at least that’s what they told it was )
2. Camel meat curry
3. Tiramisu
4. Handmade chocolate with peppermint filling( It was exotic the first time I tried it)
5. Injera and Chicken Curry Ethiopian ishtyle
5 crushes/loves in your life... in chronological order
1. I forget the priest’s name who came for Friday mass to our school. He was Goan and the entire school had a crush on him. So prayer responses went like this.
Priest: And may God bless all of you
Us: Sighhhhhhh (instead of ‘Amen’)
Priest: And may the Peace of the Lord be with you always!
Us: *droool*
2. My PT Teacher: forget his name.
3. Tom Selleck (the crush lives on to this day)
4. Harrison Ford (he still rulez)
5. Matt Le Blanc
Strangest dream you ever had:
I had a Doberman called Mika when I was 12 years old. Mika was sick and my parents didn’t tell me that she wasn’t going to live. One day my Grandad appeared in my dream and told me that he had come to take Mika. I woke up later and went to check on Mika. She was dead. The dream avoided a major heart break as I was very attached to Mika and felt she was with my Grandad in heaven. ( Mika I still love you)
5 most valued personal possessions:
1. The books gifted to me by my Grandad.
2. The Viewmaster that he bought from the US for my mom which he gave me.
3. The numerous audio and videotapes of birthdays, weddings, engagements etc that took place in the family.
4. My portfolio of creative work done during my ad agency days.
5. My grandmom’s wedding ring.
5 favorite superheroes..... and why: ( Redone as Anand wanted a 'brief' on superheroes who wear their underwear over their pants and fly and send thunderbolts from their eyes and fight all those monsters etc.)
a) Phantom: The first underwear over pant superhero, he appears from the shadows to deal with criminals and disappears after leaving his trademark, the 'skull' embedded on their skin.
b) Mandrake the Magician: He didnt exactly wear his undies over his pants but hey he was a magician and a real one at that who used his magical powers to fight crime.
c)Flash Gordon: The planet hopping superhero who flew so effortlessly across space. Fascinating.
d) Tarzan: Was raised by Apes and lived in the jungles and seemed to live a fascinating life talking to animals and getting their help to beat up the baddies.
e) Batman: The Dark Knight in Skintights :p His quest to fight crimes like the one that killed his parents was such a thrill read.
And now all of you cowering under the tables, beds and behind doors, I see you and hereby tag you to carry on the task that was entrusted to me by HRH Anand K.
Best of luck, If I tell ya, I'll have to kill ya , Ganja Turtle ,
Alexis Leon , Fleiger, Aashik , flaashgordon , Injinuity .
HAPPY EASTER EVERYBODY!!!!
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Misappropriation
A few decades back, cops chased robbers to apprehend them. A few decades later the cops still chase robbers...but it is to get their share of the loot. I think somewhere along the line the robbers and cops got tired of the chase and decided to split the loot amicably, instead of sweating it out in lanes and by lanes of Bangalore. As a result, ‘Misappropriation’ or robbery in common lingo has become an attractive profession. With the influx of Information Technology professionals into Bangalore, Robbery has become a lucrative profession too. In fact robbery can be called an ancillary industry of the Information Technology industry.
So stop tapping on that keyboard, coding and logging bugs and try out this exciting new employment opportunity. If you are looking for a fat pay packet, Action, Adventure, and that heady Adrenalin rush, then ‘Robbery’ is the perfect job for you.
For aspirants these Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) will be a lot of help. The FAQs was compiled by this writer with the help of Inspector Kempanna who would like to remain anonymous.
FAQ’s for students/aspirants.
Q: What is the difference between an ordinary man and a cop?
Ans: The ordinary man is law abiding.
Q. What is the difference between a cop and a robber?
Ans: A robber does not have to wear uniform to work.
Q. What are the similarities between a robber and a cop?
Ans: Both are robbers.
Q. Is robbery a dangerous profession?
Ans: No, not if you remit your IT deductions properly.
Q. Are robbed items subject to Income Tax?!?!?!
Ans: IT stands for Illegal Takings. You have to give a percentage of the Illegal Takings to the cops. This is known as IT deduction. Otherwise they will hunt you down more efficiently than the Scotland Yard. Most robbers in jail are IT defaulters.
Q. Is there anyway I can avoid paying IT deductions?
Ans: Death and taxes are inevitable and gruesome death is inevitable if you are an Illegal Takings evader.
Q. How do I become a robber?
Ans: By informing the local police station.
Q. Is there any hierarchy among robbers?
Ans: Yes, the Sub Inspector is the top dog followed by the Constable who is Top Cat (it's complicated).
Q. Can I rob in any area?
Ans: No, you will be assigned an area by the Cops and Robbers Association. This prevents a homeowner from being robbed twice in a day.
Q. What will be my take home salary?
Ans: The sky is the limit. The more you rob the more you make minus IT deductions. Besides income from robbery is totally exempt from all other taxes.
Q: Do I have to declare all that I rob to the cops?
Ans: Yes, they will know the exact list of stolen items from the FIR filed by the robbed.
Q. What if I am not a successful robber?
Ans: Then you can go back to a regular 9 to 6 job.
Q: What is the retirement age for Robbers.
Ans: There is no retirement age for Robbers, but it better to save for a rainy day oops...I mean dry day as rainy day takings are very good.
*********
Inspector Kempanna has helped me compile some FAQ for Ordinary Citizens too. This will help you get you your valuables back…at least part of it.
FAQ’s for ordinary citizens.
Q. What should I do after I realize I am robbed?
Ans: Take a stiff shot of whiskey. In case you don’t drink then start drinking. You will need it. Make sure the whisky is well hidden for such eventualities. The dustbin is a good place.
Q. Will that help me get back my valuables?
Ans: No, but it will help you go back to sleep.
Q. But shouldn’t I inform the cops immediately?
Ans; Don’t bother, they already know.
Q. What should I do after I wake up?
Ans: Make a Wish List of things that you would like to buy if you win the Lottery. Then file an FIR declaring the things in your Wish List as the missing items from your home.
Q. Will that FIR help me get back my valuables?
Ans: No, but the cops will be hot on the heels of the robber for not getting their share of IPods, Playstation, Lear Jets, Mercedes, Ferrari, Pleasure Boats, 20 room bungalow with swimming pool etc.
Q. But my wish list has Aiswarya Rai and Bipasha Basu too. Will it be a problem?
Ans: No, it will not be a problem, unless Aishwarya and Bipasha from the Jolly Girl Dance Bar has retired or left town.
Q. And what if Aishwarya and Bipasha from the Jolly Girl Dance Bar have retired and left town?
Ans: Then the robber will be given Third Degree to reveal where he has hidden them.
Q. Will I ever get my valuables back?
Ans: Yes, it will be returned the moment you agree to give the SI half of the ‘recovered’ valuables. Your possessions will be in his house anyways for valuation.
Q. And what if I do not want to give half of my valuables to the cops.
Ans: Rob the SI.
Q. What happens to the robber?
Ans: If he is still alive he will go to jail for robbing you and after he is released from jail will pay a monthly fine to the cops for the rest of his life for not revealing the location of the IPods, Playstation, Lear Jets, Mercedes, Ferrari, Pleasure Boats, 20 room bungalow with swimming pool, Aishwarya and Bipasha.
( This post was written after a colleague was robbed and the cops asked her to give money or part of the recovered valuables as their fees)
So stop tapping on that keyboard, coding and logging bugs and try out this exciting new employment opportunity. If you are looking for a fat pay packet, Action, Adventure, and that heady Adrenalin rush, then ‘Robbery’ is the perfect job for you.
For aspirants these Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) will be a lot of help. The FAQs was compiled by this writer with the help of Inspector Kempanna who would like to remain anonymous.
FAQ’s for students/aspirants.
Q: What is the difference between an ordinary man and a cop?
Ans: The ordinary man is law abiding.
Q. What is the difference between a cop and a robber?
Ans: A robber does not have to wear uniform to work.
Q. What are the similarities between a robber and a cop?
Ans: Both are robbers.
Q. Is robbery a dangerous profession?
Ans: No, not if you remit your IT deductions properly.
Q. Are robbed items subject to Income Tax?!?!?!
Ans: IT stands for Illegal Takings. You have to give a percentage of the Illegal Takings to the cops. This is known as IT deduction. Otherwise they will hunt you down more efficiently than the Scotland Yard. Most robbers in jail are IT defaulters.
Q. Is there anyway I can avoid paying IT deductions?
Ans: Death and taxes are inevitable and gruesome death is inevitable if you are an Illegal Takings evader.
Q. How do I become a robber?
Ans: By informing the local police station.
Q. Is there any hierarchy among robbers?
Ans: Yes, the Sub Inspector is the top dog followed by the Constable who is Top Cat (it's complicated).
Q. Can I rob in any area?
Ans: No, you will be assigned an area by the Cops and Robbers Association. This prevents a homeowner from being robbed twice in a day.
Q. What will be my take home salary?
Ans: The sky is the limit. The more you rob the more you make minus IT deductions. Besides income from robbery is totally exempt from all other taxes.
Q: Do I have to declare all that I rob to the cops?
Ans: Yes, they will know the exact list of stolen items from the FIR filed by the robbed.
Q. What if I am not a successful robber?
Ans: Then you can go back to a regular 9 to 6 job.
Q: What is the retirement age for Robbers.
Ans: There is no retirement age for Robbers, but it better to save for a rainy day oops...I mean dry day as rainy day takings are very good.
*********
Inspector Kempanna has helped me compile some FAQ for Ordinary Citizens too. This will help you get you your valuables back…at least part of it.
FAQ’s for ordinary citizens.
Q. What should I do after I realize I am robbed?
Ans: Take a stiff shot of whiskey. In case you don’t drink then start drinking. You will need it. Make sure the whisky is well hidden for such eventualities. The dustbin is a good place.
Q. Will that help me get back my valuables?
Ans: No, but it will help you go back to sleep.
Q. But shouldn’t I inform the cops immediately?
Ans; Don’t bother, they already know.
Q. What should I do after I wake up?
Ans: Make a Wish List of things that you would like to buy if you win the Lottery. Then file an FIR declaring the things in your Wish List as the missing items from your home.
Q. Will that FIR help me get back my valuables?
Ans: No, but the cops will be hot on the heels of the robber for not getting their share of IPods, Playstation, Lear Jets, Mercedes, Ferrari, Pleasure Boats, 20 room bungalow with swimming pool etc.
Q. But my wish list has Aiswarya Rai and Bipasha Basu too. Will it be a problem?
Ans: No, it will not be a problem, unless Aishwarya and Bipasha from the Jolly Girl Dance Bar has retired or left town.
Q. And what if Aishwarya and Bipasha from the Jolly Girl Dance Bar have retired and left town?
Ans: Then the robber will be given Third Degree to reveal where he has hidden them.
Q. Will I ever get my valuables back?
Ans: Yes, it will be returned the moment you agree to give the SI half of the ‘recovered’ valuables. Your possessions will be in his house anyways for valuation.
Q. And what if I do not want to give half of my valuables to the cops.
Ans: Rob the SI.
Q. What happens to the robber?
Ans: If he is still alive he will go to jail for robbing you and after he is released from jail will pay a monthly fine to the cops for the rest of his life for not revealing the location of the IPods, Playstation, Lear Jets, Mercedes, Ferrari, Pleasure Boats, 20 room bungalow with swimming pool, Aishwarya and Bipasha.
( This post was written after a colleague was robbed and the cops asked her to give money or part of the recovered valuables as their fees)
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Sitting Ducks
The IT boom saw many a cousin brother and sister from Kerala making a beeline to Bangalore, settling into careers, marrying and then having their babies. After the arrival of the baby and mom from mom’s hometown the proud parents decide that it is time they got back to the carefree days during weekends. Now this leaves poor baby out in the cold. Out of profound guilt, the new parents decide that their own kith and kin* should look after the baby so that he/she does not feel left out and grow up to become a psychopath or HR.
There fore during weekends we would get a gaggle of babies, toddlers and brats into our house for ‘safekeeping’ so that new mom and dads and the not so new mom and dads could have a night out in town. (Little did they realize that it was us that needed to be kept safe from them.)
(*‘Kin’ is defined as my mom and me.)
Here are some lessons I have learnt after years of baby-sitting, which may prove useful to new parents and masochists in search of newer and better methods of receiving punishments.
1. The smaller the baby, the easier they are to take care. The bigger they are the better if you are away on a vacation when they are visiting.
2. The age of the baby/kid in months is directly proportional to the BDA plots that your Doctor will buy from the consultation fees you pay him for treating your ulcers, fast graying hair, nervous breakdowns etc.
3. Babies prefer that the babysitter sit, while they crawl around, chewing slippers, licking shoes and gnawing the dog. ( My dogs will actually put their tails between their legs and slink out of the house when they hear my mom say on the phone "Sure we will take care of Rohan" )
4. The smallest speck on the floor is immediately spotted, minutely scrutinized and eaten. This includes ants, cockroaches and other miscellaneous life forms that are bite sized. Baby food is for woosies. No self-respecting baby will eat it. (The modern art on our walls is dried baby food by the way, in case you think we are art connoisseurs.)
5. When baby takes your finger and chews on it appreciatively it does not mean she is hungry. It means you did not wash your hands after dusting the sofa/bathing the dog/gardening etc.
6. Babies have internal radar that tells them if you are within 5 feet of their crib. So it is advised to leave the TV ‘ON’ when you need to go out of the room. The noise won’t fool them but they know that you will definitely be back after the commercials.
7. Water in the dogs bowl tastes much better than the boiled water served in sterile bottles. Ditto with the dogs food. Ditto with the dog. ( Cerelac/babyfood is for dogs)
8. Kids know immediately when they look at you that they have a sucker in their hands.
My mom said I could shave my legs (a 7 year old)
Daddy said I could use your lipstick (a 5 year old)
My mom said that I could watch Desperate Housewives (an 8 year old)
and my favorite
Brat: If you let me play in water I won’t tell Mummy that I fell down from the swing ok?”
Me: But you didn’t fall down the swing!!!
Brat: I know.
9. Answer all their questions patiently or the consequences can be unpleasant.
Brat: What are you reading?
Me: A book.
My Mom to brat: What is the chechi doing?
Brat: She is reading a book.
Mom: What book?
Brat: Aunty lying on top of uncle.
Mom’s reactions withheld but she was in my room before I could say “Charge of the Moral Brigade”. (the book “ a romantic tragedy” had the cover picture of a young couple, the girl leaning on the man’s shoulder whilst they both looked at the sunset)
10. Be appropriately dressed when kids are around.
Brat to my Dad: Why are your boobs so small?
Dad: Huh ?!?!?!.... I think I hear the phone ringing!
11. Be prepared for embarrassing questions.
Brat: What is adultery?
Me: er...where did you get that word?
Brat: We are learning Ten Commandments in Catechism Class…
Me: um..er...mmmm...ahem...it is some sort of sin.
Brat: Wrong!! You commit adultery if you run away with that uncle next door.
Me: %$@&*# If you know the answer then why did you ask me the question?
Brat: I was just checking.
Me: *censored*
(I pity Primary School Catechism teachers)
12. Be prepared for mental battles.
Me to mom: Arun’s mom says we should not give him E.G.G.
(spelling it out so 4 year old Arun will not catch on)
Mom: So Arun what would you like to eat?
Arun: E.G.G.
Same kid had a cold and was thus forbidden to eat Ice Cream. But he kept bugging me and finally exasperated I said: Read my mouth NO!
Arun: Read my mouth “YES!”
13. And lastly they are uncomplicated.
Me to my friend: What will happen if you put a Blue Elephant into a Red sea?
Friend 1: The elephant will become red?!
Friend 2: It will become a bluish red?
Friend 3: hmmm..it will become purple as blue+ red is purple.
Brat: It will drown.
Brat got it right.
( The youngest baby we babysat was a two month old infant whose mommy had to air dash to London for some examination. When she got back we had to conduct an induction programme to reacquaint her with her baby. After the induction I gave her a 60/100. My mom gave her a 10/100. Thank god for the Law of Averages she got to take the baby home!!)
There fore during weekends we would get a gaggle of babies, toddlers and brats into our house for ‘safekeeping’ so that new mom and dads and the not so new mom and dads could have a night out in town. (Little did they realize that it was us that needed to be kept safe from them.)
(*‘Kin’ is defined as my mom and me.)
Here are some lessons I have learnt after years of baby-sitting, which may prove useful to new parents and masochists in search of newer and better methods of receiving punishments.
1. The smaller the baby, the easier they are to take care. The bigger they are the better if you are away on a vacation when they are visiting.
2. The age of the baby/kid in months is directly proportional to the BDA plots that your Doctor will buy from the consultation fees you pay him for treating your ulcers, fast graying hair, nervous breakdowns etc.
3. Babies prefer that the babysitter sit, while they crawl around, chewing slippers, licking shoes and gnawing the dog. ( My dogs will actually put their tails between their legs and slink out of the house when they hear my mom say on the phone "Sure we will take care of Rohan" )
4. The smallest speck on the floor is immediately spotted, minutely scrutinized and eaten. This includes ants, cockroaches and other miscellaneous life forms that are bite sized. Baby food is for woosies. No self-respecting baby will eat it. (The modern art on our walls is dried baby food by the way, in case you think we are art connoisseurs.)
5. When baby takes your finger and chews on it appreciatively it does not mean she is hungry. It means you did not wash your hands after dusting the sofa/bathing the dog/gardening etc.
6. Babies have internal radar that tells them if you are within 5 feet of their crib. So it is advised to leave the TV ‘ON’ when you need to go out of the room. The noise won’t fool them but they know that you will definitely be back after the commercials.
7. Water in the dogs bowl tastes much better than the boiled water served in sterile bottles. Ditto with the dogs food. Ditto with the dog. ( Cerelac/babyfood is for dogs)
8. Kids know immediately when they look at you that they have a sucker in their hands.
My mom said I could shave my legs (a 7 year old)
Daddy said I could use your lipstick (a 5 year old)
My mom said that I could watch Desperate Housewives (an 8 year old)
and my favorite
Brat: If you let me play in water I won’t tell Mummy that I fell down from the swing ok?”
Me: But you didn’t fall down the swing!!!
Brat: I know.
9. Answer all their questions patiently or the consequences can be unpleasant.
Brat: What are you reading?
Me: A book.
My Mom to brat: What is the chechi doing?
Brat: She is reading a book.
Mom: What book?
Brat: Aunty lying on top of uncle.
Mom’s reactions withheld but she was in my room before I could say “Charge of the Moral Brigade”. (the book “ a romantic tragedy” had the cover picture of a young couple, the girl leaning on the man’s shoulder whilst they both looked at the sunset)
10. Be appropriately dressed when kids are around.
Brat to my Dad: Why are your boobs so small?
Dad: Huh ?!?!?!.... I think I hear the phone ringing!
11. Be prepared for embarrassing questions.
Brat: What is adultery?
Me: er...where did you get that word?
Brat: We are learning Ten Commandments in Catechism Class…
Me: um..er...mmmm...ahem...it is some sort of sin.
Brat: Wrong!! You commit adultery if you run away with that uncle next door.
Me: %$@&*# If you know the answer then why did you ask me the question?
Brat: I was just checking.
Me: *censored*
(I pity Primary School Catechism teachers)
12. Be prepared for mental battles.
Me to mom: Arun’s mom says we should not give him E.G.G.
(spelling it out so 4 year old Arun will not catch on)
Mom: So Arun what would you like to eat?
Arun: E.G.G.
Same kid had a cold and was thus forbidden to eat Ice Cream. But he kept bugging me and finally exasperated I said: Read my mouth NO!
Arun: Read my mouth “YES!”
13. And lastly they are uncomplicated.
Me to my friend: What will happen if you put a Blue Elephant into a Red sea?
Friend 1: The elephant will become red?!
Friend 2: It will become a bluish red?
Friend 3: hmmm..it will become purple as blue+ red is purple.
Brat: It will drown.
Brat got it right.
( The youngest baby we babysat was a two month old infant whose mommy had to air dash to London for some examination. When she got back we had to conduct an induction programme to reacquaint her with her baby. After the induction I gave her a 60/100. My mom gave her a 10/100. Thank god for the Law of Averages she got to take the baby home!!)
Saturday, April 01, 2006
To Goa
(Warning: Very long post.This was written after this post after which a lot of people asked for a sequel)
Let me describe the second lap of our journey from Mangalore to Goa. We left Kerala, spent a day at beautiful Mangalore and the next day took the Mangalore-Goa road. This route is a very scenic route and it is advised to use blinkers for car occupants during this journey. Otherwise car occupants will do crazy things like stopping the car every half an hour or so to take pictures of the beautiful sights. It is advisable to have patient drivers like my elder brother G who will patiently pull over every time I wanted to click a snap.
By the time we reached Bhatkal we were in a holiday mood. I would describe holiday mood as that state of being when you stop looking at the watch or the milestone and just enjoy the time without worrying about the next moment. Goa was somewhere in the horizon, but we were in no hurry to reach it. After a drive of an hour or so out of Mangalore, we hit a small beach. The water was an unusual grey and blended into the grey sky. The whole scene looked surreal like we were watching an episode from Star Trek. It was with great difficulty that we tore our eyes from the sea and drove on. We stopped at Bhatkal and were lucky to witness the arrival of fishing boats and the hectic auctioneering that follows soon after the catch is loaded. A basket of mackerels was sold for Rs 50 right before my eyes!!!! That would be around 10 kilos definitely. I suddenly felt bad at the haggling my Mom did with the fish seller who comes in regularly. These guys certainly don't have it easy. I looked at the fishing boat proudly festooned with the Indian tricolor and wondered how these guys managed to make both ends meet? :(
The Bhatkal Light House is an amazing place. You drive up this steep hill on a road that is perhaps a few inches broader than a ribbon to reach the lighthouse. The view from the lighthouse is breathtaking. We stood in silence and let the view sink in. Massive waves broke against the cliff walls below and I just couldn't believe that I was in India. This as a scene straight out of English novels. The confluence of the sea and mountains throughout the route was an amazing sight! (No guys, Karnataka Tourism is not paying me to write this, though their last cheque did bounce!)
We lunched at Karwar at a restaurant cum bar !!! ( it was the only place open at 3pm) The food was decent, the place wasn't. Any minute I expected a Silk Smitha to come floating out of the silk curtains and garish light festooned doorway. My mom and me were as out of place as two Nuns in a tattoo parlor. While G tried to stifle his laughter at our situation, M looked around with exaggerated interest and asked the Manager when the floorshow would start. The Manager suitably pleased at the thought of a prospective customer informed M that 'Belita' and her troupe would perform from 6 pm onwards. M put on another overly exaggerated look of disappointment and said mournfully that he would not be able to witness the spectacular floorshow as he had to drive to Goa. He then proceeded to do what he always does at restaurants. He asked the Manager if they served 'Duck'!
The poor manager who looked like a MacMohan clone ( of Samba fame in Sholay) was flummoxed. He went into the kitchen to check with the cook. By now G was chuckling away, while my Mom looked very disapproving and Dad tried hard to hide his smile behind the Menu card. My mom did what she usually does when M takes off on his pranks. She took the menu and ordered lunch from another waiter. MacMohan came back saying that they did not have “duck' but they had chicken. Again M put on that look of exaggerated disappointment and he sighed loudly and asked if they had ‘goose’? MacMohan went into a tizzy again and went to check the same with the cook. By this time I was laughing uncontrollably, my mom was looking daggers at M and M was reading the menu rather too gravely.
Drinking is a strict no-no while driving so both brothers had to watch Dad and me gulp down chilled beer while they had to make do with Musambi Juice. MacMohan looked very disapproving now. Two young guys and drinking Musambi juice??? I am sure he must have thought that he had seen everything he had to see in this trade. The waiter bought in my Chicken Biryani and M asked the waiter innocently if the meat was crow meat or chicken meat? The waiter was taken aback, and then recovering his composure replied with all sincerity that it was indeed chicken. He then proceeded to explain in all innocence that the restaurant did not serve crow. M nodded sagely and said gravely that he understood how difficult it was to catch crows!
We limbered into Goa late in the evening and were promptly stopped by the cops. We were waved behind a row of cars that were stopped similarly. A sleepy cop who perhaps did not see G clearly under the Sodium Vapor lamp wanted to know why he wasn't wearing a Khaki shirt!!! This time it was M's turn to hoot with laughter as G explained patiently that this was a private car and he wasn't a taxi driver. The cop noticed the white board and sheepishly waved us on. I guess it was time for the poor cop to go home and have his Feni.
We met surprisingly friendly cops in Goa. Imagine this scene. My brother and friend driving back at 7 pm to the resort after a day of scuba diving. A cop stops them and asks them where they were heading. When they disclosed that they were going back to the resort, the cop looked surprised and remarked that 7 'o' clock was party time and not a decent hour to be going back to the room!!! He then waved them on after advising them on the most happening nightclubs in town. He left a big impression on the guys with his warm and friendly nature.
The beaches of Goa were nice and it was cloudy throughout our stay, which made the weather really pleasant. However the waters smelled of fuel from the ever-present boats. We spent mornings on the recliners that the beach shacks hire out. On the last day we saw the shameful sight of a group of Saffron turbaned Sikhs who terrorized and chased every bikini clad foreigner out of the waters till somebody called the cops.
The whole industry is geared towards foreigners and getting a South Indian meal is difficult unless you go to Panaji’. I survived on Subs throughout the holiday and lost hell of a lot of weight by the time we got back. The food at the resort was heavily into meat. On our way back we stopped at a Kamat hotel and had rice and sambhar like starving hordes. :)
If you are going to Goa take the Bangalore, Mangalore, Goa route. It is a whole package of experiences.
Let me describe the second lap of our journey from Mangalore to Goa. We left Kerala, spent a day at beautiful Mangalore and the next day took the Mangalore-Goa road. This route is a very scenic route and it is advised to use blinkers for car occupants during this journey. Otherwise car occupants will do crazy things like stopping the car every half an hour or so to take pictures of the beautiful sights. It is advisable to have patient drivers like my elder brother G who will patiently pull over every time I wanted to click a snap.
By the time we reached Bhatkal we were in a holiday mood. I would describe holiday mood as that state of being when you stop looking at the watch or the milestone and just enjoy the time without worrying about the next moment. Goa was somewhere in the horizon, but we were in no hurry to reach it. After a drive of an hour or so out of Mangalore, we hit a small beach. The water was an unusual grey and blended into the grey sky. The whole scene looked surreal like we were watching an episode from Star Trek. It was with great difficulty that we tore our eyes from the sea and drove on. We stopped at Bhatkal and were lucky to witness the arrival of fishing boats and the hectic auctioneering that follows soon after the catch is loaded. A basket of mackerels was sold for Rs 50 right before my eyes!!!! That would be around 10 kilos definitely. I suddenly felt bad at the haggling my Mom did with the fish seller who comes in regularly. These guys certainly don't have it easy. I looked at the fishing boat proudly festooned with the Indian tricolor and wondered how these guys managed to make both ends meet? :(
The Bhatkal Light House is an amazing place. You drive up this steep hill on a road that is perhaps a few inches broader than a ribbon to reach the lighthouse. The view from the lighthouse is breathtaking. We stood in silence and let the view sink in. Massive waves broke against the cliff walls below and I just couldn't believe that I was in India. This as a scene straight out of English novels. The confluence of the sea and mountains throughout the route was an amazing sight! (No guys, Karnataka Tourism is not paying me to write this, though their last cheque did bounce!)
We lunched at Karwar at a restaurant cum bar !!! ( it was the only place open at 3pm) The food was decent, the place wasn't. Any minute I expected a Silk Smitha to come floating out of the silk curtains and garish light festooned doorway. My mom and me were as out of place as two Nuns in a tattoo parlor. While G tried to stifle his laughter at our situation, M looked around with exaggerated interest and asked the Manager when the floorshow would start. The Manager suitably pleased at the thought of a prospective customer informed M that 'Belita' and her troupe would perform from 6 pm onwards. M put on another overly exaggerated look of disappointment and said mournfully that he would not be able to witness the spectacular floorshow as he had to drive to Goa. He then proceeded to do what he always does at restaurants. He asked the Manager if they served 'Duck'!
The poor manager who looked like a MacMohan clone ( of Samba fame in Sholay) was flummoxed. He went into the kitchen to check with the cook. By now G was chuckling away, while my Mom looked very disapproving and Dad tried hard to hide his smile behind the Menu card. My mom did what she usually does when M takes off on his pranks. She took the menu and ordered lunch from another waiter. MacMohan came back saying that they did not have “duck' but they had chicken. Again M put on that look of exaggerated disappointment and he sighed loudly and asked if they had ‘goose’? MacMohan went into a tizzy again and went to check the same with the cook. By this time I was laughing uncontrollably, my mom was looking daggers at M and M was reading the menu rather too gravely.
Drinking is a strict no-no while driving so both brothers had to watch Dad and me gulp down chilled beer while they had to make do with Musambi Juice. MacMohan looked very disapproving now. Two young guys and drinking Musambi juice??? I am sure he must have thought that he had seen everything he had to see in this trade. The waiter bought in my Chicken Biryani and M asked the waiter innocently if the meat was crow meat or chicken meat? The waiter was taken aback, and then recovering his composure replied with all sincerity that it was indeed chicken. He then proceeded to explain in all innocence that the restaurant did not serve crow. M nodded sagely and said gravely that he understood how difficult it was to catch crows!
We limbered into Goa late in the evening and were promptly stopped by the cops. We were waved behind a row of cars that were stopped similarly. A sleepy cop who perhaps did not see G clearly under the Sodium Vapor lamp wanted to know why he wasn't wearing a Khaki shirt!!! This time it was M's turn to hoot with laughter as G explained patiently that this was a private car and he wasn't a taxi driver. The cop noticed the white board and sheepishly waved us on. I guess it was time for the poor cop to go home and have his Feni.
We met surprisingly friendly cops in Goa. Imagine this scene. My brother and friend driving back at 7 pm to the resort after a day of scuba diving. A cop stops them and asks them where they were heading. When they disclosed that they were going back to the resort, the cop looked surprised and remarked that 7 'o' clock was party time and not a decent hour to be going back to the room!!! He then waved them on after advising them on the most happening nightclubs in town. He left a big impression on the guys with his warm and friendly nature.
The beaches of Goa were nice and it was cloudy throughout our stay, which made the weather really pleasant. However the waters smelled of fuel from the ever-present boats. We spent mornings on the recliners that the beach shacks hire out. On the last day we saw the shameful sight of a group of Saffron turbaned Sikhs who terrorized and chased every bikini clad foreigner out of the waters till somebody called the cops.
The whole industry is geared towards foreigners and getting a South Indian meal is difficult unless you go to Panaji’. I survived on Subs throughout the holiday and lost hell of a lot of weight by the time we got back. The food at the resort was heavily into meat. On our way back we stopped at a Kamat hotel and had rice and sambhar like starving hordes. :)
If you are going to Goa take the Bangalore, Mangalore, Goa route. It is a whole package of experiences.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Learning to drive!
I learnt to drive at the age of 13. Pestered my brother M for approximately one month and fourteen days till he finally gave in just to get me out of his hair I guess. So one fine Saturday morning when my Mom and Dad were out and my eldest brother was in college we set off in my mom’s car for my first lesson. It was a Maruti 800 so my feet could reach the brakes and the accelerator. Now, M is not exactly a patient teacher but I think the thrill of teaching me reckless driving right under Dad’s nose must have enthused him to undertake the job. After he had patiently demonstrated the use of the clutch, gear, accelerator and brake in about tweleve and half seconds, we set off slowly down the road with me behind the wheel and my Lhasa Apso Bubbles in the back seat.
After numerous instructions like:
Do you think Roopa saw me?
Do you think Aparna saw me?
When we pass Ramesh’s house I will duck ok?
If anybody asks, I am here because you blackmailed me into this ok? etc. I was doing pretty well. It didn’t help my driving a bit, but I wasn’t complaining. Beggars can’t be choosers especially when it comes to choosing their siblings.
Learning to drive from an expert is tough, especially if the expert was born with the steering wheel in his hands. And if the student is your sister who was born without the steering wheels in her hands it leads to some uncomfortable situations, especially for pedestrians some of whom are still alive to tell the tale to the cops if I don’t bring the green blouse with gold border from that tailor down the road or provisions from the Iyengar provision shop only or marry their sons when I reach marriageable age. I am still paying a heavy price for my driving lessons that were supposed to be free.
To begin with I could never get the difference between the brake and the accelerator inspite of my brother’s best efforts and crystal clear instructions.
Look out Hump ahead!!!
Slow down
Press gently on the brake
Hey why are you speeding up?
Oops sorry Pai uncle can’t stop and help you pick up the onions
Oops sorry Venkatesha I will pay for the vegetables and the cart
Aiyyo Shobha aunty did that hurt?
I said BRAKE not ACCELARATOR FOR GOD’S SAKE!!!!!!
Look out nooo.....* thud *
The *thud* was Nair uncle taking off into the blue yonder Hero cycle and all, losing thrust and landing back successfully on Mother Earth. In fact Nair uncle had a better landing record than NASA shuttle missions during my ‘driving lesson’ days.
After this incident M drove back home and wrote B for brake and A for Accelerator on a piece of paper which he struck on the brake and accelerator.
We set off past Uncle Thomas who shouted “ I am going to tell your...” his last words were lost in the wind as I mistook the accelerator for the brake again. Besides I was too petrified to take my eyes away from the road and read B for Brake and A for Accelerator and WELCOME on the Kerala Coir Board mat. I kept my eyes firmly on the road and foot firmly pressed on the accelerator and learnt to steer, overtake, turn left and right and reverse etc at a pacy 60 mph and higher. My brother was hopping mad and if a genie were appear and grant me three wishes I would have asked for a Remote Control with the options to “Shut him up” “Lower His Volume” and “Shut the dog up”. But since there was no sign of a genie approaching I devised my own remote control to get away from his incessant nagging and shouting. I would say “Duck, I think Gaurav is coming" and M would slide down the seat and stay there for some time while I experimented with the brake and accelerator to my hearts content. After I felt I was fairly sure of this combination I would say, “ Ok, you can come up now, Gaurav is gone”.
So the next few hours M kept sliding up and down the seat while I practiced releasing the clutch slowly while pressing on the accelerator gently, changing the gear while stamping on the clutch etc. After many an “I see Anita on the road” and “Preethi is coming this way” etc., I was fairly sure of how the whole thing worked. I felt as pleased as a punch that had just learnt driving.
On the 3rd Saturday of driving my brother crazy er... driving lessons we were driving into the road leading to my house when my Dad happened to drive by. From the expression on his face when he saw us I could safely surmise that my brother was grounded. But the resultant turns of events? Brother and his bike and his sister and her dog were grounded. Guess I am not very good at face reading.
( Bubbles who would jump into the car the moment anyone opened the car door, developed an irrational fear of cars. The Vet thought and I agreed vehemently, that it was because of the emotional trauma of being grounded. The Vet has since given up practice and now works in a Call Centre)
After numerous instructions like:
Do you think Roopa saw me?
Do you think Aparna saw me?
When we pass Ramesh’s house I will duck ok?
If anybody asks, I am here because you blackmailed me into this ok? etc. I was doing pretty well. It didn’t help my driving a bit, but I wasn’t complaining. Beggars can’t be choosers especially when it comes to choosing their siblings.
Learning to drive from an expert is tough, especially if the expert was born with the steering wheel in his hands. And if the student is your sister who was born without the steering wheels in her hands it leads to some uncomfortable situations, especially for pedestrians some of whom are still alive to tell the tale to the cops if I don’t bring the green blouse with gold border from that tailor down the road or provisions from the Iyengar provision shop only or marry their sons when I reach marriageable age. I am still paying a heavy price for my driving lessons that were supposed to be free.
To begin with I could never get the difference between the brake and the accelerator inspite of my brother’s best efforts and crystal clear instructions.
Look out Hump ahead!!!
Slow down
Press gently on the brake
Hey why are you speeding up?
Oops sorry Pai uncle can’t stop and help you pick up the onions
Oops sorry Venkatesha I will pay for the vegetables and the cart
Aiyyo Shobha aunty did that hurt?
I said BRAKE not ACCELARATOR FOR GOD’S SAKE!!!!!!
Look out nooo.....* thud *
The *thud* was Nair uncle taking off into the blue yonder Hero cycle and all, losing thrust and landing back successfully on Mother Earth. In fact Nair uncle had a better landing record than NASA shuttle missions during my ‘driving lesson’ days.
After this incident M drove back home and wrote B for brake and A for Accelerator on a piece of paper which he struck on the brake and accelerator.
We set off past Uncle Thomas who shouted “ I am going to tell your...” his last words were lost in the wind as I mistook the accelerator for the brake again. Besides I was too petrified to take my eyes away from the road and read B for Brake and A for Accelerator and WELCOME on the Kerala Coir Board mat. I kept my eyes firmly on the road and foot firmly pressed on the accelerator and learnt to steer, overtake, turn left and right and reverse etc at a pacy 60 mph and higher. My brother was hopping mad and if a genie were appear and grant me three wishes I would have asked for a Remote Control with the options to “Shut him up” “Lower His Volume” and “Shut the dog up”. But since there was no sign of a genie approaching I devised my own remote control to get away from his incessant nagging and shouting. I would say “Duck, I think Gaurav is coming" and M would slide down the seat and stay there for some time while I experimented with the brake and accelerator to my hearts content. After I felt I was fairly sure of this combination I would say, “ Ok, you can come up now, Gaurav is gone”.
So the next few hours M kept sliding up and down the seat while I practiced releasing the clutch slowly while pressing on the accelerator gently, changing the gear while stamping on the clutch etc. After many an “I see Anita on the road” and “Preethi is coming this way” etc., I was fairly sure of how the whole thing worked. I felt as pleased as a punch that had just learnt driving.
On the 3rd Saturday of driving my brother crazy er... driving lessons we were driving into the road leading to my house when my Dad happened to drive by. From the expression on his face when he saw us I could safely surmise that my brother was grounded. But the resultant turns of events? Brother and his bike and his sister and her dog were grounded. Guess I am not very good at face reading.
( Bubbles who would jump into the car the moment anyone opened the car door, developed an irrational fear of cars. The Vet thought and I agreed vehemently, that it was because of the emotional trauma of being grounded. The Vet has since given up practice and now works in a Call Centre)
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Office Blahging !
Monday morning I got a mail from HR.
We notice that the corporate blog space allocated to you is lying unused. As a communications intern, your blog will be used in your grading. So please use the blog to post articles and news and enjoy this exciting medium.
p.s. If you need any help or information about blogging please contact Ramesh from the Employee Rules and Regulations Team.
Sincerely,
HR
I schedule a meeting with Ramesh to learn about the intricacies of Blogging in the Conference Room.
Me: Hi Ramesh, what is this blog thingy all about?
Ramesh: Did you take a look at the links I sent you?
Me: heh heh Yes, that one on HR bashing was cool. Can I do the same?
Ramesh: er...HR bashing? No no no, you were supposed to read the post on the landing page and not browse the archives !!!!
Me: The archives in that blog were really good. The one on the MD’s browsing history was a scream ha ha ha ha...
Ramesh (sweating): er...please disregard that link I sent you and see this blog!
Me: I was just beginning to have fun. This one is so boring. It talks about productivity at work barf!!!
Ramesh: Exactly!!! Corporate blogs should have useful and fun information.
Me: Fun information? Can I write about Guarav and Jayesh getting beaten up at that seedy bar yesterday?
Ramesh (petrified): Noooooooooooooo!!
Me: But you said I can write fun!!!!
Ramesh (wiping sweat from brow): By fun I meant things like office picnic, team outings, holidays etc.
Me: Oh ok, can I write about our last team outing to the spa?
Ramesh: (beaming): Sure!!! What a good idea!!
Me: Damn! I can’t remember that masseuse’s name.
Ramesh (uneasily): masseuse?????? er...why do you want to write about the masseuse??
Me: She slapped that Project Manager very hard, dunno why.
Ramesh(aghast): Noooooooooo, you can’t write stuff like that.
Me:Just now you told me that I can write about the Team Outing!
Ramesh: I need some strong coffee and a couple of dozen Aspirins. Please read the posts in our office blog and get back to me when you get the concept. In the meantime DO NOT WRITE ANYTHING ON YOUR CORPORATE BLOG OK??????
Me: Ok ok, no need to shout! *grumble*
After Ramesh left I sat down and read all the recent posts on the office blog. It was an amazing read.
A marketing manager had written about Brand Building.
“Brand building is very complicated. I shall research the same and post an article at a later date. In the meantime do check out our competitors latest product called *censored*. It is way ahead of the competition!!
Below it was a footnote by the Blog Administrator
Mr Marketing Guy,
Please do not use office blog to promote the competitors product.
Signed:
Blog Administrator.
p.s. Do let me know where I can buy *censored*.
A techie had written extensively about traveling by BMTC buses with some useful tips and suggestions.
Route No 200 is always full and Route no 201 is tedious and Route no 203 is always late. But if you take Route No. 404 and then get off at Sewersandra and take the 114 you will definitely reach the office late. So I would advice all of you to buy a bike”
A lady in the testing team had written about her travails with her maid with some pointers to retain maids like:
“Don’t let her feel she is the boss”
and
“If she asks for a raise fire her !!!!”
Very informative.
The post by our Administration manager was very reassuring:
“We take great care to see that our Cafeteria food is balanced with the correct proportion of carbohydrate, protein, fat, vitamins, mineral salts and fiber. Let me assure you all that the fourteen employees in the hospital with Gastroenteritis after allegedly eating cafeteria food are telling lies.”
The entry by HR was very touching and bought a tear to my eye and a lump to my throat.
“This year we will not be giving any optional holidays unless there is an earthquake to the magnitude of 9 on the Richter scale or a meteorite collision with Earth. In case of a meteorite collision only those affected by the crash will get an off. The rest will come to work as usual.”
The Finance Manager also had a post. It was interestingly titled:
“Taxation for Dummies. A Self Help Guide for our Employees”
Given below is an excerpt from the post.
“To arrive at your Income Tax for the year 2006/2007, take the distance between the Sun and the Moon, now multiply the figure with your gross income and the subsequent figure should then be divided by the circumference of an ants egg. Simple!”
Even the Sysadmin had an entry. It was titled:
“Weekend Leisure Activities”
Off late I have started trekking during weekends. It is a very healthy activity and has cured me of my squint. Earlier I led a boring life reading your mails and peeping into the folders in your computers. Now I go trekking to Mullayanigiri and Kudremukh and access your systems from the pristine surroundings of these verdant hills. I recommend trekking for all employees.”
After looking at the impressive writings, I realized that I was way out of my league here. I have subsequently asked HR to remove me from the bloggers list.
We notice that the corporate blog space allocated to you is lying unused. As a communications intern, your blog will be used in your grading. So please use the blog to post articles and news and enjoy this exciting medium.
p.s. If you need any help or information about blogging please contact Ramesh from the Employee Rules and Regulations Team.
Sincerely,
HR
I schedule a meeting with Ramesh to learn about the intricacies of Blogging in the Conference Room.
Me: Hi Ramesh, what is this blog thingy all about?
Ramesh: Did you take a look at the links I sent you?
Me: heh heh Yes, that one on HR bashing was cool. Can I do the same?
Ramesh: er...HR bashing? No no no, you were supposed to read the post on the landing page and not browse the archives !!!!
Me: The archives in that blog were really good. The one on the MD’s browsing history was a scream ha ha ha ha...
Ramesh (sweating): er...please disregard that link I sent you and see this blog!
Me: I was just beginning to have fun. This one is so boring. It talks about productivity at work barf!!!
Ramesh: Exactly!!! Corporate blogs should have useful and fun information.
Me: Fun information? Can I write about Guarav and Jayesh getting beaten up at that seedy bar yesterday?
Ramesh (petrified): Noooooooooooooo!!
Me: But you said I can write fun!!!!
Ramesh (wiping sweat from brow): By fun I meant things like office picnic, team outings, holidays etc.
Me: Oh ok, can I write about our last team outing to the spa?
Ramesh: (beaming): Sure!!! What a good idea!!
Me: Damn! I can’t remember that masseuse’s name.
Ramesh (uneasily): masseuse?????? er...why do you want to write about the masseuse??
Me: She slapped that Project Manager very hard, dunno why.
Ramesh(aghast): Noooooooooo, you can’t write stuff like that.
Me:Just now you told me that I can write about the Team Outing!
Ramesh: I need some strong coffee and a couple of dozen Aspirins. Please read the posts in our office blog and get back to me when you get the concept. In the meantime DO NOT WRITE ANYTHING ON YOUR CORPORATE BLOG OK??????
Me: Ok ok, no need to shout! *grumble*
After Ramesh left I sat down and read all the recent posts on the office blog. It was an amazing read.
A marketing manager had written about Brand Building.
“Brand building is very complicated. I shall research the same and post an article at a later date. In the meantime do check out our competitors latest product called *censored*. It is way ahead of the competition!!
Below it was a footnote by the Blog Administrator
Mr Marketing Guy,
Please do not use office blog to promote the competitors product.
Signed:
Blog Administrator.
p.s. Do let me know where I can buy *censored*.
A techie had written extensively about traveling by BMTC buses with some useful tips and suggestions.
Route No 200 is always full and Route no 201 is tedious and Route no 203 is always late. But if you take Route No. 404 and then get off at Sewersandra and take the 114 you will definitely reach the office late. So I would advice all of you to buy a bike”
A lady in the testing team had written about her travails with her maid with some pointers to retain maids like:
“Don’t let her feel she is the boss”
and
“If she asks for a raise fire her !!!!”
Very informative.
The post by our Administration manager was very reassuring:
“We take great care to see that our Cafeteria food is balanced with the correct proportion of carbohydrate, protein, fat, vitamins, mineral salts and fiber. Let me assure you all that the fourteen employees in the hospital with Gastroenteritis after allegedly eating cafeteria food are telling lies.”
The entry by HR was very touching and bought a tear to my eye and a lump to my throat.
“This year we will not be giving any optional holidays unless there is an earthquake to the magnitude of 9 on the Richter scale or a meteorite collision with Earth. In case of a meteorite collision only those affected by the crash will get an off. The rest will come to work as usual.”
The Finance Manager also had a post. It was interestingly titled:
“Taxation for Dummies. A Self Help Guide for our Employees”
Given below is an excerpt from the post.
“To arrive at your Income Tax for the year 2006/2007, take the distance between the Sun and the Moon, now multiply the figure with your gross income and the subsequent figure should then be divided by the circumference of an ants egg. Simple!”
Even the Sysadmin had an entry. It was titled:
“Weekend Leisure Activities”
Off late I have started trekking during weekends. It is a very healthy activity and has cured me of my squint. Earlier I led a boring life reading your mails and peeping into the folders in your computers. Now I go trekking to Mullayanigiri and Kudremukh and access your systems from the pristine surroundings of these verdant hills. I recommend trekking for all employees.”
After looking at the impressive writings, I realized that I was way out of my league here. I have subsequently asked HR to remove me from the bloggers list.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
The Man Hunt !
The phone was ringing stridently. My mom approached it cautiously, looked at the Caller ID and motioned me to pick up the phone. Now this was bad news. Whenever she did this, it usually meant that some pesky 'Ungle' or 'Aundy' was calling. With a sigh I picked up the phone and an avalanche of conversation fell into my ears.
Aunt: “Hellooooooo. How are you, How is mummy, daddy, your brothers and the dogs and ......”
Me: They are all fine and so are the neighbors and their dogs.
Aunt: That is sooooooo nice.
Me (cutting in): So what do you want Aunty?
Aunt ( in her best fake sad voice): You know your cousin Sarah has just finished her B.Tech and has got a nice job in Trivandrum. We are looking for a ‘suitable boy’ for her.
Me: So?
Aunt (slyly): So...I heard you are doing your internship in an IT MNC...I am sure there are many suitable boys...maybe you could enquire?
Me: No way!!!! I am not running behind guys asking them to marry your daughter.
Aunt: * sob * you know how sick your uncle is?
Me: Yes...but he is attending Alcoholics Anonymous isn't he?
Aunt: And *sniff * you know about my knee problem...
Me: Aunty didn’t the doctor tell you to reduce your weight to 125 kgs?
Aunt: And your cousin brother Tojo is still in 10th std...
Me: Approximately how many years has he spent in 10th Std and approx how many buses do you think Tojo has burnt till now?
Aunt (proudly): Four!!! Ok dear I have to go now. I knew I could count on you, I will send Sarah’s details as soon as possible, Byeeeeeeeee
Me: but...but...
I realize I am speaking to no one in particular.
I know when I am suckered. This ‘aunt’ is related to us through a series of accidents. She is my moms cousin brother’s sister-in-laws neighbors dog’s owner who bit my mom’s cousin brother who then developed Rabies and bit the dog. Mallu networking is very 'komblicated' you see!
Next day I reached office rather early and after taking a good look around to see that no one was around, took down all the names of the unmarried males from my community in the office from the Intranet. I got 10 probables, all Engineers and apparently eligible. I entered their names in an Excel sheet and waited for the office gossip a.k.a Executive Secretary to VP Finance to arrive. She would have all the dirt on the ‘candidates’ plus some on their past lives too, besides she will also have the salaries of my targets down to the last decimal. Very nice. I give myself a mental pat for having the foresight to restrain myself from hitting her on the head with the keyboard when I found her reading my mails.
Miss Executive Secretary a.k.a. Swati strolls in an agonizing hour late takes a quick look at the list and gives me the low down.
Swati: Thomas? He is slightly cockeyed and drinks like a fish.
Me: What about Joseph?
Swati: Drinks like a whale.
Me: And Bobby?
Swati: Drinks like a Whale with an alcohol problem.
Me: How about Biju?
Swati: Will be kicked out soon for non performance.
Me: And Chacko?
Swati (lowering her voice): I heard he is married, but I am not sure. He denies it.
Me (in despair): What about Anil, Ronny and Tarun?
Swati: Anil has got a limp, Ronny has a wife and Tarun has a massive chip on his shoulders.
Evening as soon as I stepped foot into the house the phone rings. I pick up the phone resignedly.
Me: Yes Aunty, I have the information.
Aunt: That is sooooo sweet of you. So tell me did you get a good boy for my Sarah?
Me: No, all the guys in my office are married.
Aunt: What do you mean married? What about Thomas?
Me: er...how do you know about him?
Aunt: And what about Joseph?
Me: ummmm he is a very social guy I heard.
Aunt: And Bobby?
Me: Well...he is even more social...
Aunt (triumphantly): And Biju?
Me: He is er...leaving the job.
Aunt: To a better paying company, his mom told me! You are just jealous! You do not want my Sarah to be well settled. We like Biju. Nice boy and from a good family too. I am going ahead with the proposal.
Me: Aunty please listen....
Aunt slams down the receiver.
I am not invited to the wedding.
Aunt: “Hellooooooo. How are you, How is mummy, daddy, your brothers and the dogs and ......”
Me: They are all fine and so are the neighbors and their dogs.
Aunt: That is sooooooo nice.
Me (cutting in): So what do you want Aunty?
Aunt ( in her best fake sad voice): You know your cousin Sarah has just finished her B.Tech and has got a nice job in Trivandrum. We are looking for a ‘suitable boy’ for her.
Me: So?
Aunt (slyly): So...I heard you are doing your internship in an IT MNC...I am sure there are many suitable boys...maybe you could enquire?
Me: No way!!!! I am not running behind guys asking them to marry your daughter.
Aunt: * sob * you know how sick your uncle is?
Me: Yes...but he is attending Alcoholics Anonymous isn't he?
Aunt: And *sniff * you know about my knee problem...
Me: Aunty didn’t the doctor tell you to reduce your weight to 125 kgs?
Aunt: And your cousin brother Tojo is still in 10th std...
Me: Approximately how many years has he spent in 10th Std and approx how many buses do you think Tojo has burnt till now?
Aunt (proudly): Four!!! Ok dear I have to go now. I knew I could count on you, I will send Sarah’s details as soon as possible, Byeeeeeeeee
Me: but...but...
I realize I am speaking to no one in particular.
I know when I am suckered. This ‘aunt’ is related to us through a series of accidents. She is my moms cousin brother’s sister-in-laws neighbors dog’s owner who bit my mom’s cousin brother who then developed Rabies and bit the dog. Mallu networking is very 'komblicated' you see!
Next day I reached office rather early and after taking a good look around to see that no one was around, took down all the names of the unmarried males from my community in the office from the Intranet. I got 10 probables, all Engineers and apparently eligible. I entered their names in an Excel sheet and waited for the office gossip a.k.a Executive Secretary to VP Finance to arrive. She would have all the dirt on the ‘candidates’ plus some on their past lives too, besides she will also have the salaries of my targets down to the last decimal. Very nice. I give myself a mental pat for having the foresight to restrain myself from hitting her on the head with the keyboard when I found her reading my mails.
Miss Executive Secretary a.k.a. Swati strolls in an agonizing hour late takes a quick look at the list and gives me the low down.
Swati: Thomas? He is slightly cockeyed and drinks like a fish.
Me: What about Joseph?
Swati: Drinks like a whale.
Me: And Bobby?
Swati: Drinks like a Whale with an alcohol problem.
Me: How about Biju?
Swati: Will be kicked out soon for non performance.
Me: And Chacko?
Swati (lowering her voice): I heard he is married, but I am not sure. He denies it.
Me (in despair): What about Anil, Ronny and Tarun?
Swati: Anil has got a limp, Ronny has a wife and Tarun has a massive chip on his shoulders.
Evening as soon as I stepped foot into the house the phone rings. I pick up the phone resignedly.
Me: Yes Aunty, I have the information.
Aunt: That is sooooo sweet of you. So tell me did you get a good boy for my Sarah?
Me: No, all the guys in my office are married.
Aunt: What do you mean married? What about Thomas?
Me: er...how do you know about him?
Aunt: And what about Joseph?
Me: ummmm he is a very social guy I heard.
Aunt: And Bobby?
Me: Well...he is even more social...
Aunt (triumphantly): And Biju?
Me: He is er...leaving the job.
Aunt: To a better paying company, his mom told me! You are just jealous! You do not want my Sarah to be well settled. We like Biju. Nice boy and from a good family too. I am going ahead with the proposal.
Me: Aunty please listen....
Aunt slams down the receiver.
I am not invited to the wedding.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Visa Power !
A top Indian Scientists Visa to the US was rejected by the the consular officer (CO) after he "submitted him to intense scrutiny, accused him of hiding things and being a danger to America and denied his visa pending further review." Newspaper Report.
Now, one cannot entirely blame the US for putting Visa restriction on Indian scientists, due to their notorious misdeeds in the past. There is no smoke without a fire and we should stop the self righteous indignation over the above incident. Let me tell you about an incident that happened in the year 2001. This incident is the reason why strict checks and measures are now being applied on Indian scientists.
US Embassy, New Delhi. An Indian Scientist is giving in his Visa application papers to the Consular Officer.
Consular Officer (CO) (looking intently at the Indian scientist): So you are a chemist?
Indian Scientist (IS): Yes Sir.
CO: You dispense medicines?
IS:No no, I don’t dispense medicines.
CS: But it says here that you are a chemist.
IO (patiently ):Well... I am not that type of a chemist, I am a Research Scientist
CO: And I am Brad Pitt ha ha ha...I am afraid I have to reject your Visa application because you have provided false information.
CO: Next !!!!!!
CO(to next applicant): Why do you want to go to the US?
Applicant: I am going to learn to fly plane.
CO: Ah !!! A student I see. Have a nice stay in the US . Do check out the World Trade Centre and Pentagon while you are there.
Applicant: I have already done that you infidel !!!
CO(to next applicant): And why do you want to go to the US young man?
Applicant (happily): To learn to fly plane.
CO: That seems to be a popular course. I suppose you will get a big job as a pilot in some big airline after that yeah?
Applicant(beaming): No my leader says I will get 14 virgins in heaven.
CO: er... sure...
CO(to next applicant): Hello Mr. O’Sammy, And why do you want to go to the US?
O’Sammy: Because I hate the Yankee infidels.
CO: Well...I am no great fan of The Yankees myself...hmmm your name seems kinda familiar.
O’Sammy: It is the English version of my name you dimwit !
CO: hmmm You also look different in your photo Mr O’Sammy.
O’Sammy: Because I have shaved my beard you moron.
CO: Ah! And you hair seems kinda different too.
O’Sammy: That is because I have removed the scarf you pig!
CO: And what is that bulge in your side ?
O’Sammy (patting the Grenade and looking menacingly): That is something for you if I don’t get the Visa grrrrr
CO(taken aback): Jeez, what’s with the attitude!!! Have a nice stay in the US Mr. O’Sammy.
O’Sammy(shouting): Hail Holy War !!!!
CO( muttering to himself): Holy war indeed, bet you he can’t swat a fly if he wanted to $@%@^&
The Indian Scientist now decides to give a last ditch attempt at getting his Visa. He oils his hair with coconut oil, combs his hair neatly and steps up confidently.
Scientist: Good Morning ! I yam an Indian scientist. I yam highly qualified. I do not need much resources to make weapons of mass destruction. I can make a bomb with a shoelace and an empty Ice Cream cup. In fact if your country is facing a cash crunch I can manage with the shoe lace alone.And if you were to add a empty packet of Lays I would be able to able to make a Hydrogen Bomb too. Isn't it simbly amazing !!
CO: Interesting ! What is your name?
Scientist: Venkatachalpathaiah Muthueswaran Sivasubramanian Rao.
CO types in the name , the computer goes * boink * , then crashes taking the entire network of computers in the US, the lights in the embassy start flickering and Air Force One makes an emergency landing. The only message on the now black monitor is “Operating system found dead”.
Scientist: Aiyyo.
CO: grrrrrrrrrrrrr NEXT !!!!!!
I rest my case.
Now, one cannot entirely blame the US for putting Visa restriction on Indian scientists, due to their notorious misdeeds in the past. There is no smoke without a fire and we should stop the self righteous indignation over the above incident. Let me tell you about an incident that happened in the year 2001. This incident is the reason why strict checks and measures are now being applied on Indian scientists.
US Embassy, New Delhi. An Indian Scientist is giving in his Visa application papers to the Consular Officer.
Consular Officer (CO) (looking intently at the Indian scientist): So you are a chemist?
Indian Scientist (IS): Yes Sir.
CO: You dispense medicines?
IS:No no, I don’t dispense medicines.
CS: But it says here that you are a chemist.
IO (patiently ):Well... I am not that type of a chemist, I am a Research Scientist
CO: And I am Brad Pitt ha ha ha...I am afraid I have to reject your Visa application because you have provided false information.
CO: Next !!!!!!
CO(to next applicant): Why do you want to go to the US?
Applicant: I am going to learn to fly plane.
CO: Ah !!! A student I see. Have a nice stay in the US . Do check out the World Trade Centre and Pentagon while you are there.
Applicant: I have already done that you infidel !!!
CO(to next applicant): And why do you want to go to the US young man?
Applicant (happily): To learn to fly plane.
CO: That seems to be a popular course. I suppose you will get a big job as a pilot in some big airline after that yeah?
Applicant(beaming): No my leader says I will get 14 virgins in heaven.
CO: er... sure...
CO(to next applicant): Hello Mr. O’Sammy, And why do you want to go to the US?
O’Sammy: Because I hate the Yankee infidels.
CO: Well...I am no great fan of The Yankees myself...hmmm your name seems kinda familiar.
O’Sammy: It is the English version of my name you dimwit !
CO: hmmm You also look different in your photo Mr O’Sammy.
O’Sammy: Because I have shaved my beard you moron.
CO: Ah! And you hair seems kinda different too.
O’Sammy: That is because I have removed the scarf you pig!
CO: And what is that bulge in your side ?
O’Sammy (patting the Grenade and looking menacingly): That is something for you if I don’t get the Visa grrrrr
CO(taken aback): Jeez, what’s with the attitude!!! Have a nice stay in the US Mr. O’Sammy.
O’Sammy(shouting): Hail Holy War !!!!
CO( muttering to himself): Holy war indeed, bet you he can’t swat a fly if he wanted to $@%@^&
The Indian Scientist now decides to give a last ditch attempt at getting his Visa. He oils his hair with coconut oil, combs his hair neatly and steps up confidently.
Scientist: Good Morning ! I yam an Indian scientist. I yam highly qualified. I do not need much resources to make weapons of mass destruction. I can make a bomb with a shoelace and an empty Ice Cream cup. In fact if your country is facing a cash crunch I can manage with the shoe lace alone.And if you were to add a empty packet of Lays I would be able to able to make a Hydrogen Bomb too. Isn't it simbly amazing !!
CO: Interesting ! What is your name?
Scientist: Venkatachalpathaiah Muthueswaran Sivasubramanian Rao.
CO types in the name , the computer goes * boink * , then crashes taking the entire network of computers in the US, the lights in the embassy start flickering and Air Force One makes an emergency landing. The only message on the now black monitor is “Operating system found dead”.
Scientist: Aiyyo.
CO: grrrrrrrrrrrrr NEXT !!!!!!
I rest my case.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
An enriching Xperience
Sometime last year my Sysadmin installed Windows XP in my comp. It would make my life very easy he declared. Apparently Windows XP will provide rich, wireless network support, helping me to simply and easily connect to wireless networks and it is very intelligent too. I was so happy. It would be so helpful to someone who uses only MS Word.
I had a first hand experience of its ‘advanced features’ when I tried to shut down the comp for the very first time since it was installed:
Windows XP (WXP): There are other users connected to your computer. Shutting down your computer will make you lose your hair and some more. Continue with shut down?
Me: Yes
WXP: Are you sure?
Me: Yes
WXP: Lock kiya jaye?
Me: Shut down you dumb thing!!!
WXP: Galath jawaab. Try shutting down the computer again when you have learnt some manners.
Me: Shut down or I pull the plug!
WXP: Oh noo, I am so scared hee hee
Me: grrrrr !!
I use the Windows Task Manager to shut down the comp and after taking a generous swig of Gelusil called my Sysadmin for a refresher course.
Sysadmin: So what’s wrong or shall I say what’s right with your comp hee hee.
Me: What an awesome joke man!!! You are hilarious! I am having some problems with WXP.
Sysadmin: Thank you, thank you it’s very original you know.
Me: Amazing joke!!! I am unable to shut down the comp.
Sysadmin: heh heh I am a funny man.
Me: Sure you are...now I need you to check my OS.
Sysadmin: I try to make people smile.
Me: I know, but my WXP is giving me a lot of grief.
Sysadmin: Windows XP? I have no clue. Now lemme go share the joke with the boys heh heh.
Me: @%#^&@*%#+ !!!!
WXP has a feature that keeps a eye on the going ons in my PC and generates regular hi-tech reports to be sent to the Microsoft guys for prompt action.
She blogs at work. (AHA!!!)
She downloads baby pictures (yuck)
She is copying recipes from Tarla Dalal site (what a loser)
She is sticking her tongue out at me (pffft)
And then it will open this small window every irritating two second or so and ask "Shall I send this error report to Microsoft? It will be absolutely confidential. You will not be sued; we will just use this information to make your pirated WXP experience more pleasurable." More gelusil.
I have WXP at home too. Now my UPS is on the blink and gives me exactly one minute to shut down the comp after the power goes out. But WXP is so advanced that it will shut down the comp only after weighing the pros and cons of the said action.
WXP: The DSL connection is active. Would you like to continue with Shut Down?
Me: Yes
WXP: hmmm...
Me: What are you doing ?!?!
WXP: I am thinking...hmmm
Me: Shut down for gods sake!!!
WXP: hmmm.... *blink* (battery power out)
Me: @%#^&@*%#+ !!!!
I think I need further training to build on my limited knowledge of the Windows XP operating system and the skilled facets of XP's functionality and features.
I am now undergoing rigorous training at the "Advanced Workshop in Anger Management" being conducted by the Windows XP Users Association.
I had a first hand experience of its ‘advanced features’ when I tried to shut down the comp for the very first time since it was installed:
Windows XP (WXP): There are other users connected to your computer. Shutting down your computer will make you lose your hair and some more. Continue with shut down?
Me: Yes
WXP: Are you sure?
Me: Yes
WXP: Lock kiya jaye?
Me: Shut down you dumb thing!!!
WXP: Galath jawaab. Try shutting down the computer again when you have learnt some manners.
Me: Shut down or I pull the plug!
WXP: Oh noo, I am so scared hee hee
Me: grrrrr !!
I use the Windows Task Manager to shut down the comp and after taking a generous swig of Gelusil called my Sysadmin for a refresher course.
Sysadmin: So what’s wrong or shall I say what’s right with your comp hee hee.
Me: What an awesome joke man!!! You are hilarious! I am having some problems with WXP.
Sysadmin: Thank you, thank you it’s very original you know.
Me: Amazing joke!!! I am unable to shut down the comp.
Sysadmin: heh heh I am a funny man.
Me: Sure you are...now I need you to check my OS.
Sysadmin: I try to make people smile.
Me: I know, but my WXP is giving me a lot of grief.
Sysadmin: Windows XP? I have no clue. Now lemme go share the joke with the boys heh heh.
Me: @%#^&@*%#+ !!!!
WXP has a feature that keeps a eye on the going ons in my PC and generates regular hi-tech reports to be sent to the Microsoft guys for prompt action.
She blogs at work. (AHA!!!)
She downloads baby pictures (yuck)
She is copying recipes from Tarla Dalal site (what a loser)
She is sticking her tongue out at me (pffft)
And then it will open this small window every irritating two second or so and ask "Shall I send this error report to Microsoft? It will be absolutely confidential. You will not be sued; we will just use this information to make your pirated WXP experience more pleasurable." More gelusil.
I have WXP at home too. Now my UPS is on the blink and gives me exactly one minute to shut down the comp after the power goes out. But WXP is so advanced that it will shut down the comp only after weighing the pros and cons of the said action.
WXP: The DSL connection is active. Would you like to continue with Shut Down?
Me: Yes
WXP: hmmm...
Me: What are you doing ?!?!
WXP: I am thinking...hmmm
Me: Shut down for gods sake!!!
WXP: hmmm.... *blink* (battery power out)
Me: @%#^&@*%#+ !!!!
I think I need further training to build on my limited knowledge of the Windows XP operating system and the skilled facets of XP's functionality and features.
I am now undergoing rigorous training at the "Advanced Workshop in Anger Management" being conducted by the Windows XP Users Association.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
