I jumped off the plane and found that my parachute wasn’t opening. No, in fact I was just knocking at Roshan’s door. I mean, that’s how it would feel standing there knowing that his mom would open the door. In just a few seconds the door cranked open treating my ears with a few silly noises. I would have been charred to death and instantly evaporated (due to ‘shock’), if it was someone other than his mom at the door. I mean only she had to open the door, at least to piss me off. Anyway, as usual she looked at me as if she had wasted her precious time just to open the door for me. She said- “He’s in the room. Sleeping” and vanished into the kitchen. I entered the hall and I felt this weird thought passing through my brain; I felt like I was playing ‘ball’ with a chimpanzee in an American zoo. Don’t ask for further explanations please. Then I noticed Roshan’s 8 year old brother sleeping on the sofa. I felt like watching a Lion making love with a deer. I mean, I never thought that was possible.
Finally I stepped into Roshan’s room and that idiot was sleeping too. I was kissing that chimpanzee by now. As I walked towards him to shake him up, I heard him talking in his sleep- “Sorry ma’am, I didn’t come to school because my grandfather died yesterday……. Oh Last week?? Errrrr… Oh ya, my grandmother died last week……… ohh is it? Then maybe it’s my grandmother’s sister…………” he went on. I thought about the job in hand; how to wake this guy up from sleep? Finally, I grabbed my cell phone and played one of Himesh Reshammia’s nasal growls and Roshan jumped out of his bed like a ghost. He stared at me, rubbed his eyes and said- “Oh, it’s you.”
“Yeah. What were you doing in school man? I thought you would be running around trees with that ‘Air Hostess’ girl.”
“What to do macha! Last night I was thinking about that day when we begged our School principal for attendance. You remember?”
“Yeah. But WE didn’t beg. It was YOU who begged and almost cried.” I reminded him.
“Shut up macha. Otherwise, he would have informed our parents about what we did that day.” He reminded me of things I had tried all my life to forget.
“Hey, how about we go meet them now? Our school teachers I mean. It’ll be nice after such a long time.”
“Get lost. No way.”
In ten minutes, we were in his car heading to school; he was driving and I was praying. He took a sharp right turn and my heart almost skidded towards my ribs. He was not a bad driver; he was a terrible driver. Just when I started thanking god that we were just a kilometer away from our destination, he applied brakes and brought the car to a sudden halt. He turned and stared at me with his round eyes. He looked like the male version of Rakhi Sawanth. He behaved like a pressure cooker, as though invisible steam blew out from his ears. I got scared; I got tensed. I recited my last prayers. I tested my lost voice and enquired- “What’s up? What happened?”
As though like the whistling of a cooker, he exhaled, hit me on my head and said- “Stupid. It’s Sunday today. The school will be closed.” He was right; I felt silly, I felt ashamed. I felt- like a Superman without powers; like a crow without wings; like James Bond posing without pants. On the other hand, Roshan’s face glowed victoriously, as though he had fought the war and won the princess.
Anyway, we just had to roam around the school, literally and head back home. In an hour, we were back at the door of his house waiting for his mom to open. As usual, she never disappoints. She stared hard at me and told Roshan- “One more time I see you wearing that T-shirt, I’ll not let you in.” I knew that was for me. As ever I didn’t care. If I’d cared, by now I would have invited you all for my tenth 'Death Day' celebrations. Anyway, I entered in and Roshan’s brother who had woken up by now was in full action like those dinosaurs in Jurassic Park. As usually he hurled his plastic monkey at me and I dodged it with perfection and grace. But I had enough for the day. I collected my bike’s keys and disappeared from there in 3.2 seconds.
“A day spent with Roshan is called a ‘Stupid-day’. It is also known as ‘Everyday’.”
Showing posts with label Humour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Humour. Show all posts
When I was SULTAN..!!
“Every day I get to hear some or the other forts falling into his hands. I don’t care what you do, Afzal Khan, my friend, I want him dead.” I said with an angry face, loud voice and a wicked smile.
I was in class 5 when it struck to my parents that they needed to make me Mr. Nice Boy. My mom turned to her colleagues, her Google search, for suggestions. It wouldn’t ‘shock’ me if I’d kissed an electric pole, but it certainly would if her colleagues didn’t have a suggestion to offer or an opinion to share. So, as expected, they sprung into action and suggested a ‘Personality Development’ camp which was to be held far outside the city. Talking about those colleagues, someday I will shoot them and go to jail surely. Anyway, about the camp; we had to camp in for 10 days; we would be woken up at 4 and made to lift our hands and legs; I mean, we were taught yoga. A little of cleaning, praying, eating, sleeping, bhajan-ing fabricated the rest of the day. It was after dinner (at 6.45 pm) that the actual fun began; things like plays and dances. We were split into groups and I fell into a group called ‘Shivaji’. Our group had four guys (including me) and three girls, one of which I would name Miss. Stare, would stare at me at a rate of 30 glances per minute. I didn’t like her.
“I will bring him dead in 24 hours, Sultan” Afzal Khan, who resembled a skeleton promised, bowing down. “I’ll look forward to it my friend” I patted on his cane-like back and let out an evil look. Miss Stare made a signal to me that I had to leave the stage for Chatrapathi Shivaji to enter. I didn’t like her at all.
“I wand you to read this book gombletely today” our group’s new instructor announced in a Mallu accent and handed over the mini-sized book on Shivaji. We gombletely read the book and waited for him the next day. He examined each of us top to bottom; shameless I say. It took him 2.6 seconds to decide that I should be the villain, The Sultan Of Bijapur. The skeleton guy became Afzal Khan and the other became Shivaji. I objected- “Sir, this Shivaji is just half of me.” He showed us that he had a smile and said- “ You dond worry. Shivaji should be simble.” Miss Stare giggled at me until she learned about her part in the play; she along with another girl had to escort the Sultan of Bijapur ( that’s me) to my chair. I explored options as to how best I could piss her off, but ultimately satisfied myself with a teeth-exhibiting smile. This girl gets on my nerves. Anyway, the practice began in full swing. I practiced my dialogues and evil looks outside kitchens, outside toilets, everywhere. Shivaji practiced killing while I and Dr. Skeleton practiced dying.
“Not with me Afzal Khan” Shivaji punctured Afzal’s chest with his cardboard knife, and headed straight to the Sultan Of Bijapur, who was rejoicing with his girls.
The day had come and it was time for me to enter the dais. I wore someone’s churidhar, had a yellow colored half-moon painted on my forehead, tied a cloth around my waist, pushed my wooden sword through it and walked to my chair with the two girls escorting me. I had to walk like a chess champion, as though I had to think deep about my next step. Doing so, I reached the big chair and sat but immediately jumped out like a spring. That damn sword was poking. So got up, pulled it out and then sat. I could notice even the last row of people laughing like mad dogs. But I was a man, whose heart was made of steel. I sprung up, blasted my dialogues blowing off a few ear-drums thereby killing all the surrounding laughter and restored pin-drop silence in the hall (of around 150 people). Afzal Khan walked in wearing something resembling a frock, but again, a man made of steel wouldn’t giggle, so I grabbed the opportunity to shut up; then continued with my dialogues and exited with ultimate grace. My part was surely a hit, I thought. Only thing remaining for me was to get killed by that tiny little Shivaji.
“How dare you try to kill me” Shivaji tripped my foot, held me with my back resting on his arm and pushed his knife into my chest. That was it; I had kicked the bucket; I was dead.
Shivaji was supposed to drop me on to the ground gently but just before he could do that I heard him grasping for breath- “ Hey, oaahhh.. I am not able to hold on…aaaa…” even before he could complete it, let his hands off me and I fell real hard on to the ground. bloody damn idiot.. I wondered what an irony it would create if I got up and killed him. But anyway, the great fall incidentally turned out to be the best part of the play; a blood-pumping action scene.
Later as I was exiting the stage, I observed Miss. Stare laughing like she hadn’t for a decade. God, I hated her.
P.S- Unfortunately, nobody took photographs of the play that day. Leave alone snaps, that damn place did not have a single mirror for me to even see how I looked.
P.P.S- My parents' colleagues are still a pestering lot. What to do??
I was in class 5 when it struck to my parents that they needed to make me Mr. Nice Boy. My mom turned to her colleagues, her Google search, for suggestions. It wouldn’t ‘shock’ me if I’d kissed an electric pole, but it certainly would if her colleagues didn’t have a suggestion to offer or an opinion to share. So, as expected, they sprung into action and suggested a ‘Personality Development’ camp which was to be held far outside the city. Talking about those colleagues, someday I will shoot them and go to jail surely. Anyway, about the camp; we had to camp in for 10 days; we would be woken up at 4 and made to lift our hands and legs; I mean, we were taught yoga. A little of cleaning, praying, eating, sleeping, bhajan-ing fabricated the rest of the day. It was after dinner (at 6.45 pm) that the actual fun began; things like plays and dances. We were split into groups and I fell into a group called ‘Shivaji’. Our group had four guys (including me) and three girls, one of which I would name Miss. Stare, would stare at me at a rate of 30 glances per minute. I didn’t like her.
“I will bring him dead in 24 hours, Sultan” Afzal Khan, who resembled a skeleton promised, bowing down. “I’ll look forward to it my friend” I patted on his cane-like back and let out an evil look. Miss Stare made a signal to me that I had to leave the stage for Chatrapathi Shivaji to enter. I didn’t like her at all.
“I wand you to read this book gombletely today” our group’s new instructor announced in a Mallu accent and handed over the mini-sized book on Shivaji. We gombletely read the book and waited for him the next day. He examined each of us top to bottom; shameless I say. It took him 2.6 seconds to decide that I should be the villain, The Sultan Of Bijapur. The skeleton guy became Afzal Khan and the other became Shivaji. I objected- “Sir, this Shivaji is just half of me.” He showed us that he had a smile and said- “ You dond worry. Shivaji should be simble.” Miss Stare giggled at me until she learned about her part in the play; she along with another girl had to escort the Sultan of Bijapur ( that’s me) to my chair. I explored options as to how best I could piss her off, but ultimately satisfied myself with a teeth-exhibiting smile. This girl gets on my nerves. Anyway, the practice began in full swing. I practiced my dialogues and evil looks outside kitchens, outside toilets, everywhere. Shivaji practiced killing while I and Dr. Skeleton practiced dying.
“Not with me Afzal Khan” Shivaji punctured Afzal’s chest with his cardboard knife, and headed straight to the Sultan Of Bijapur, who was rejoicing with his girls.
The day had come and it was time for me to enter the dais. I wore someone’s churidhar, had a yellow colored half-moon painted on my forehead, tied a cloth around my waist, pushed my wooden sword through it and walked to my chair with the two girls escorting me. I had to walk like a chess champion, as though I had to think deep about my next step. Doing so, I reached the big chair and sat but immediately jumped out like a spring. That damn sword was poking. So got up, pulled it out and then sat. I could notice even the last row of people laughing like mad dogs. But I was a man, whose heart was made of steel. I sprung up, blasted my dialogues blowing off a few ear-drums thereby killing all the surrounding laughter and restored pin-drop silence in the hall (of around 150 people). Afzal Khan walked in wearing something resembling a frock, but again, a man made of steel wouldn’t giggle, so I grabbed the opportunity to shut up; then continued with my dialogues and exited with ultimate grace. My part was surely a hit, I thought. Only thing remaining for me was to get killed by that tiny little Shivaji.
“How dare you try to kill me” Shivaji tripped my foot, held me with my back resting on his arm and pushed his knife into my chest. That was it; I had kicked the bucket; I was dead.
Shivaji was supposed to drop me on to the ground gently but just before he could do that I heard him grasping for breath- “ Hey, oaahhh.. I am not able to hold on…aaaa…” even before he could complete it, let his hands off me and I fell real hard on to the ground. bloody damn idiot.. I wondered what an irony it would create if I got up and killed him. But anyway, the great fall incidentally turned out to be the best part of the play; a blood-pumping action scene.
Later as I was exiting the stage, I observed Miss. Stare laughing like she hadn’t for a decade. God, I hated her.
P.S- Unfortunately, nobody took photographs of the play that day. Leave alone snaps, that damn place did not have a single mirror for me to even see how I looked.
P.P.S- My parents' colleagues are still a pestering lot. What to do??
Saami... Murugan Saami..!!
(On one of those occasions when I give 'logic' and 'reasoning' a complete rest and let my mind free into a world of fun and silliness, such would be the outcome. Disclaimer- All the names and characters used here are only with intentions of evoking humor and nothing else.
So for now, just sit back and yenjoyyyyy. :P)
Murugan flipped aside his English-daily Newspaper and decided to take a nap under the Banyan tree. He shooed away the silly dog which was licking his shoulder and rested his head on the newspaper, his regular pillow, and stretched his legs. Just when he was about to shut his eyes, as though he’d spotted sunlight during mid-night, he jumped up and observed his assistant Kuppusaami accompanying a foreigner, a white attractive woman heading towards him. “I’m the only person to know English in Vellapatti” Murugan rejoiced. Kuppusaami indicated the need of an English-speaking person through his Gateway-Of-India (his broken teeth, I mean) and Murugan obliged.
“Hello Sir. I’m Alicia Morgan from the United Kingdom. I’m here on a survey, and the Indian culture has totally absorbed me.” The woman smiled and extended her hand for a hand-shake.
Murugan scratched his head and whispered to Kuppusaami- “Dai Kuppusaami, Murugan weds Morgan, yeppidi da irukku (how does it sound)?” Kuppusaami opened the gates of his Gateway-Of-India all over again.
Murugan came back to his senses, wiped and extended his hand after checking if anyone was around and they shook hands.
“I’m Murugan. Murugan Saami (Saw-me).”
“Good. Where did he see you?”
“Ayyo no. I said, my name is Murugan Saami.” he blushed like a girl. Alicia Murugan Saami …...
“Oh! Glad to meet you Mr. Murugan.” She clicked a picture of him and the dog.
“In Vellapatti, I am thalai (Head). I have nilam (land). I have nariya nariya (abundant) kaasu (money). All Vellapatti ponnus (girls) want to kalyanam (marry) me.”
“Sorry Mr. Murugan, but I don’t understand your language.”
“Ayyo, it’s vokay. No praablam. In Vellapatti, Subramani Saami married Mumtaz Begum. For them also language praablam. But happy family. 2 children also.”
“What?”
“Why?” he gave it a thought and continued- “Your father is strict aa?”
Alicia turned around and walked away.
Edited- Will Be Continued....as different episodes.. :)....
So for now, just sit back and yenjoyyyyy. :P)
Murugan flipped aside his English-daily Newspaper and decided to take a nap under the Banyan tree. He shooed away the silly dog which was licking his shoulder and rested his head on the newspaper, his regular pillow, and stretched his legs. Just when he was about to shut his eyes, as though he’d spotted sunlight during mid-night, he jumped up and observed his assistant Kuppusaami accompanying a foreigner, a white attractive woman heading towards him. “I’m the only person to know English in Vellapatti” Murugan rejoiced. Kuppusaami indicated the need of an English-speaking person through his Gateway-Of-India (his broken teeth, I mean) and Murugan obliged.
“Hello Sir. I’m Alicia Morgan from the United Kingdom. I’m here on a survey, and the Indian culture has totally absorbed me.” The woman smiled and extended her hand for a hand-shake.
Murugan scratched his head and whispered to Kuppusaami- “Dai Kuppusaami, Murugan weds Morgan, yeppidi da irukku (how does it sound)?” Kuppusaami opened the gates of his Gateway-Of-India all over again.
Murugan came back to his senses, wiped and extended his hand after checking if anyone was around and they shook hands.
“I’m Murugan. Murugan Saami (Saw-me).”
“Good. Where did he see you?”
“Ayyo no. I said, my name is Murugan Saami.” he blushed like a girl. Alicia Murugan Saami …...
“Oh! Glad to meet you Mr. Murugan.” She clicked a picture of him and the dog.
“In Vellapatti, I am thalai (Head). I have nilam (land). I have nariya nariya (abundant) kaasu (money). All Vellapatti ponnus (girls) want to kalyanam (marry) me.”
“Sorry Mr. Murugan, but I don’t understand your language.”
“Ayyo, it’s vokay. No praablam. In Vellapatti, Subramani Saami married Mumtaz Begum. For them also language praablam. But happy family. 2 children also.”
“What?”
“Why?” he gave it a thought and continued- “Your father is strict aa?”
Alicia turned around and walked away.
Edited- Will Be Continued....as different episodes.. :)....
Kids..... Ouchh..!!
I banged my foot on the ground thrice "bang .. bang … bang.." as I saw my neighbor, an old lady with her 8 year old grandson at the door. I drew the latch in ‘action replay’ mode, more so like the way old bollywood couples ran in slow motion before they hugged each other. As I opened the door, a breeze hit me and ‘warning’ alarms went off inside my head. The granny adjusted her glasses and smiled. I spotted her only tooth (well known as Gate Way of India) and recollected that it actually resembled- ‘The Leaning Tower of Pisa’. So many monuments inside the jewel box. Amazing! Anyway, my eyes then shifted to her grandson, who wore blue colored shorts, the size of my hand kerchief. He too had just one tooth visible in the 'Gandhi class' (I mean front row), as he squeezed through in-between my legs into the house.
“I’m going to the market now. Can I leave Pintu here for a while?” the granny enquired.
Granny always gave me an expression of someone like a modern Mother Teresa or something, and that sent a litre of ‘good will’ into my heart (take note- my weak point), hence I replied- “Go ahead. I will look after Pintu.” I mean, after all, normal human beings can commit blunders.
I shut the door and initiated a ‘search operation’ for this boy Pintu. ‘The period of time that Pintu is out of sight’ is directly proportional to ‘Danger’. Could you guess that I love Physics? Good. Anyway, I continued with the ‘search operation’, like a hunter. I rubbed my eyes twice and discovered that Pintu was sitting on my bed, both legs and arms folded and mainly SILENT. I almost saw Swamy Vivekananda in him, when I discovered something below him. I approached him tardily as if I was there to catch a snake. I stared hard at that thing, and realized it was my laptop. I zoomed my eyes towards it and got further horrified when I noticed his blue colored shorts reflecting a darker shade now. “Oh Lord, this guy has no ‘nappy’ and he has pissed on my ‘lappy’,” I screamed inside my head, not in a mood to adore the poetic skills in me.
It took me an hour for the entire cleaning process to terminate as Pintu sat and watched ‘Cartoon Network’. God bless the founder of cartoons. “Children are like God” I reminded myself and tried to be Mr.Kind as I went into the kitchen to prepare some ‘corn-flakes’ for my dearest Pintu. I heated the milk, put some ‘Kelloggs corn-flakes’ into the bowl and glanced at Jnr.Danger. He was trying his vandalism skills over today’s newspaper, but that was nothing, so I counted 1 to 10, took a deep breath and stirred the mixture. As and when it was ready, I brought the bowl to the hall but to find that my hero was out-of-sight. The physics equation resounded with echoes somewhere deep inside me. I crawled slowly into my room, but I was too unlucky, couldn’t find him. A few precious seconds wasted, I then walked slowly into the other room, stood at the entrance and scanned through the room but found no one. There was complete silence; life-threatening silence. Like a flash, as though like in the ghost movies, “bhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…” he screamed and jumped from behind the door to the front of me leaving me terrified and cold. I almost had my foot in my mouth for a second. “hahaha… you got scared..” he vanished into the hall.
I prayed to god, recited a few ‘mantras’ and proceeded into the hall and sat next to him. “Children are like God..” I controlled myself by repeating it again and again as though like a malfunctioning tape-recorder. In the meanwhile, he trekked over to me, stood over my lap and stared long and hard at my face like a scientist examining viruses. I stuck my tongue down and returned a few silly expressions. After his research he came uncomfortably close to my face and asked- “Anna (brother), why do you have a moustache?” and tried to pluck at it. “Aaaahhhhhh…” I howled, put him over the sofa, stood and shouted at him- “Shut up.” He looked with his eyes opened wide as I went on – “ Fold your hands………. Close your mouth…Don’t open that mouth and don’t move.. Just sit.” I slid next to him, grabbed at the corn-flakes bowl, scooped it with a spoon and held it before his mouth. My dearest of dearest Pintu wouldn’t open his mouth (as his master had instructed) .. damn… “You can open your mouth to eat.,” I said aimlessly. Once he opened his jewel box, I put the spoon into it but my hero wouldn’t close it (the instruction was to only open the mouth, remember). I didn’t cry, nor did I pull the hair off my head but just stared with hooked eye-brows at the ceiling.
Just when I thought I needed a trip to the brain doctor, my eyes got filled with the sight of a goddess glowing away through the window holding colorful flowers in her hands, ringing my door bell wanting to introduce me to the staff members up above. No, I just saw Granny. She walked in and said with a tooth-exhibiting smile- “ Hope Pintu didn’t trouble you,” and I almost began to search the number to call the brain doctor but decided to just return a simple smile. She carried Pintu, who was now having his corn-flakes on his own. damn kid..
The feeling of subtracting a ton of weight from my heart commenced when she said to her Pintu- “Say bye to anna..” The intelligent boy dropped the bowl of corn-flakes (which landed and splashed straight on my lap) and waved good-bye to me. Granny apologized and left taking away her thunder-like grandson. I headed to the bathroom for part-2 of the cleaning work. My shorts this time.
Children are fun and lovely, but man- “Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go.”
“I’m going to the market now. Can I leave Pintu here for a while?” the granny enquired.
Granny always gave me an expression of someone like a modern Mother Teresa or something, and that sent a litre of ‘good will’ into my heart (take note- my weak point), hence I replied- “Go ahead. I will look after Pintu.” I mean, after all, normal human beings can commit blunders.
I shut the door and initiated a ‘search operation’ for this boy Pintu. ‘The period of time that Pintu is out of sight’ is directly proportional to ‘Danger’. Could you guess that I love Physics? Good. Anyway, I continued with the ‘search operation’, like a hunter. I rubbed my eyes twice and discovered that Pintu was sitting on my bed, both legs and arms folded and mainly SILENT. I almost saw Swamy Vivekananda in him, when I discovered something below him. I approached him tardily as if I was there to catch a snake. I stared hard at that thing, and realized it was my laptop. I zoomed my eyes towards it and got further horrified when I noticed his blue colored shorts reflecting a darker shade now. “Oh Lord, this guy has no ‘nappy’ and he has pissed on my ‘lappy’,” I screamed inside my head, not in a mood to adore the poetic skills in me.
It took me an hour for the entire cleaning process to terminate as Pintu sat and watched ‘Cartoon Network’. God bless the founder of cartoons. “Children are like God” I reminded myself and tried to be Mr.Kind as I went into the kitchen to prepare some ‘corn-flakes’ for my dearest Pintu. I heated the milk, put some ‘Kelloggs corn-flakes’ into the bowl and glanced at Jnr.Danger. He was trying his vandalism skills over today’s newspaper, but that was nothing, so I counted 1 to 10, took a deep breath and stirred the mixture. As and when it was ready, I brought the bowl to the hall but to find that my hero was out-of-sight. The physics equation resounded with echoes somewhere deep inside me. I crawled slowly into my room, but I was too unlucky, couldn’t find him. A few precious seconds wasted, I then walked slowly into the other room, stood at the entrance and scanned through the room but found no one. There was complete silence; life-threatening silence. Like a flash, as though like in the ghost movies, “bhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…” he screamed and jumped from behind the door to the front of me leaving me terrified and cold. I almost had my foot in my mouth for a second. “hahaha… you got scared..” he vanished into the hall.
I prayed to god, recited a few ‘mantras’ and proceeded into the hall and sat next to him. “Children are like God..” I controlled myself by repeating it again and again as though like a malfunctioning tape-recorder. In the meanwhile, he trekked over to me, stood over my lap and stared long and hard at my face like a scientist examining viruses. I stuck my tongue down and returned a few silly expressions. After his research he came uncomfortably close to my face and asked- “Anna (brother), why do you have a moustache?” and tried to pluck at it. “Aaaahhhhhh…” I howled, put him over the sofa, stood and shouted at him- “Shut up.” He looked with his eyes opened wide as I went on – “ Fold your hands………. Close your mouth…Don’t open that mouth and don’t move.. Just sit.” I slid next to him, grabbed at the corn-flakes bowl, scooped it with a spoon and held it before his mouth. My dearest of dearest Pintu wouldn’t open his mouth (as his master had instructed) .. damn… “You can open your mouth to eat.,” I said aimlessly. Once he opened his jewel box, I put the spoon into it but my hero wouldn’t close it (the instruction was to only open the mouth, remember). I didn’t cry, nor did I pull the hair off my head but just stared with hooked eye-brows at the ceiling.
Just when I thought I needed a trip to the brain doctor, my eyes got filled with the sight of a goddess glowing away through the window holding colorful flowers in her hands, ringing my door bell wanting to introduce me to the staff members up above. No, I just saw Granny. She walked in and said with a tooth-exhibiting smile- “ Hope Pintu didn’t trouble you,” and I almost began to search the number to call the brain doctor but decided to just return a simple smile. She carried Pintu, who was now having his corn-flakes on his own. damn kid..
The feeling of subtracting a ton of weight from my heart commenced when she said to her Pintu- “Say bye to anna..” The intelligent boy dropped the bowl of corn-flakes (which landed and splashed straight on my lap) and waved good-bye to me. Granny apologized and left taking away her thunder-like grandson. I headed to the bathroom for part-2 of the cleaning work. My shorts this time.
Children are fun and lovely, but man- “Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go.”
The Evolution of the Snake dance!! - Stephen
Once upon a time in blogpur,an incident occurred which was scripted in history.This led to the emergence of a new dance form.It was the time when the humans and the beasts were amongst the best buddies.It was the era of friendship and where cultural civilization was too far .The time period encountered various events which is devoid to today's generation.This hasn't been mentioned in history .
In blogpur, humans and the snake community lived together in harmony.Snakes never hissed and humans never danced.This ancient historic event took place ages ago during the reign of Prince Arjuna,the great ruler of the Choudary kingdom.
Prince Arjuna had a special liking for dance and hunting.Dancing and Hunting are not directly related to each other .He was the only person who was skilled with the art of 'Nrutya'.He was modest and humble.He was benevolent.His ministry comprised of highly talented ministers like Bahadur Sunil,Vaidya Riya,Intelligent Richa and many more.Snakes were friendly and intelligent unlike humans.Saapo,the president of the Snake community was malicious and was against the humans .He didn't want the humans to mingle with the snakes.
"Prince Arjuna,I won't let you rule our dynasty," Saapo,the snake screamed in front of the snake community members.
"I'm planning an attack on the humans ,"he added.
"But, great , humans are supposed to be snakes' best friends, aren't they?," Junior Saapo said.
"I don't give a damn about it, my target is Prince Arjuna," Saapo was furious.
Meanwhile Prince Arjuna of the Royal Choudary family was getting ready for his dance classes.He bowed down in front of his mother to seek her blessings.
"Ammo,me want to develop unity amongst the snake and the humans," he said to his mother.
"Lord Shiva,bless me," he prayed to god.
Saapo overheard all this."Unity between snake and humans,my foot," he said.
He soon thought for a while and churned out a reason from his wicked mind.
"I will see you in Panchayat ,Prince," he gave a wicked smile.
The next day Panchayat was called and all biggies of the blog world including Chronic writer,Solitary writer,Busy writer,Pink Orchid and Yem bee Aye were called.
"May I know the reason for the panchayat,"Prince Arjuna asked Saapo.
"I don't support your selfish attitude," Saapo replied.
"What are you talking ,Saapo? make sense," the prince replied.
"I don't advocate this idea of yours," Saapo,the snake replied.
"Abhey Langoor ke aulad ," the prince got annoyed.
"Why don't you take our snakes with you and teach them the dance ," Saapo said.
"We want justice," Saapo added.
Prince Arjuna didn't have any answer for this question of Saapo.
The Panchayati Samiti soon arranged a meeting.Chronic writer,Solitary writer,Busy writer,Pink Orchid and Yem bee Aye attended the meeting.
"Well ,what is the appropriate solution guys?," Chronic writer said.
"We should ask Arjuna to teach the Snakes," Pink Orchid replied.
"Naa,wait ,We should have a contest between Arjuna and Saapo,a dance contest,"Solitary Writer said.
"I second Solitary writer,we should have some sort of dance contest guys," Yem bee yae smiled.
"But Saapo said snakes don't know dance," Chronic writer said.
"He is a liar Chrony,I've seen Saapo doing rain dance many times," Busy writer said to her team.
"So,there will be a contest between both the parties ,hmm,interesting guys,"Chronic writer giggled.
"Who will be our judge?,"Chronic writer added.
"Lets call Farah Khan and Saroj Khan," Busy writer winked.
"Naa,lets get some guys from our field,call our techie "Saif"," Solitary writer said with a smile.
Saif,the techie for the community was called.He was a scientist and his inventions were famous.It is said that few of his inventions were modified by Sir Isaac Newton as at that era there were no provision of Copyright and Patents.
Saif was made to get in few bloggers from the 21st century with the help of his time machine. The samitee decided to call Ste,Sandeep Balan,Priyanka and Bharghav.
They even called blog fame Leo and Aarthi to host the contest.
Both Prince Arjuna and Saapo agreed to the accord and contest dates were announced.
A week later the contest started. People from "Simply me" ,"Conjuring Kreativity","Pragmatic Utopia"," Illusions","More Orangee","Chemerical thoughts"," Where words are thoughts" and many had come to witness this unique event.
The dance floor was arranged.
"Guys ,its a unique battle between the snakes and the human community," hosts Leo and Aarthi announced.
"We have Sandeep Balan,Ste,Priyanka and Bharghav Saika as our judges for todays contest," Aarthi said.
"It's an important event guys,if humans win,then snakes will lose their ability to stand erect and speech.If snakes win,then humans will lose their ability to speak and think," Leo said.
Prince Arjun and Saapo looked at each other with anger.
"There will be 2 rounds.Fast songs will be played in the first round and Slow songs will be played in the second round.Each judge will give you 25 points and the game will be decided by the scores out of 200 after end of round 2," Leo and Aarthi said.
"Lets start the show," the judges said in unison.
Prince Arjuna came to dance. He twined his body in all possible directions. He danced for 5 minutes.
"Aila,man Arjuna dancing hip hop," Sandeep Balan said to the other judges.
The judges were highly impressed with Arjuna's performance.
"Arjuna,something was missing daa,I am still finding it out, so I give you 21 out of 25,"Priyanka said.
"24 for you da ,no comments simply amazing," Ste gave him a standing ovation.
"22 for you,as Pri said some elements were missing," Sandeep Balan said.
"14 for you ,no expressions,no entertainment ,no excitement," Bharghav said to the prince.
The hosts next called Saapo ,the snake.
The snake was dancing pretty aggresively.He was performing continous movements.
"God,the snake is doing rock and roll," Bhargav grinned.
"23 for you Saapo,you rock," Priyanka said.
"24 for you,superb expressions and aggresions Saapo," Ste said.
"25 for the cute Saapo,god bless you," Sandeep Balan said.
"25 for you.Everything was perfect.Had a perfect feast," Bharghav said.
"So at the end of the first round Prince Arjuna is 81 and Saapo is 97," the anchors said and everyone cheered for Saapo.
It seemed the human race was about to lose the contest.It would be a humiliating defeat.Everyone from the human community encouraged and cheered for their dance representative Prince Arjun.
The second round started and Prince Arjuna came to dance.
He was better than the previous round.He performed some dance.
"24 for you ,perfect fete for us," Priyanka said.
"24 ,you were dancing well this time," Ste said.
"25,I'm impressed ," Sandeep Balan said.
"25,was a delight for us,I will write a review about this dance of yours," Bhargav gave him a standing ovation.
Saapo was over confident and he slipped while dancing.This reflected in his marks.
"10,Sorry," Priyanka refused to speak a word.
"11,didn't accept this," Ste said.
"10,disappointed," Sandeep said with a straight face.
"10," Bhargav said.
"So total after round 2 is different.Prince Arjuna gets 179 and Saapo gets 138," the hosts smiled.
Prince Arjuna laughed and screamed.Saapo was clearly disappointed.His face exhibited his frown.The snakes lost their ability to sense and stand erect.Prince Arjuna rolled on the floor and gigled.
"Snake dance ,Snake dance!," The judges were stunned.
"And thats how snake dance came into existence," Arjun Choudary, the great great grandson of Prince Arjuna said to his other blogger friends.
Arjun Choudary was an expert snake dancer and he used to teach Sandeep Malan sir in his acting school.
"Wow!,so you guys created history ,eh!," the blogger friends said in unison.
"Yes,"Arjun said to his friends with pride.
----------End-----------
To Arjun,
hmm,finally I get to write something for my partner in crime.Partner in crime is what I call him.This is because we both are experts in this field of humour.We love and enjoy writing humour.You rock daa.You are "the humour king" . Hope you write more such beautiful posts and I will be glad to see you back in action.
(From Arjun - When you tell a crazy person to go crazy, wat happens? Such a post happens.. hehe :P ... Thanks for writing this piece bro. I've started Snake dancing classes at my place. You can join in if u r rich enuf.. :P )
Regards,
The Solitary Writer.
In blogpur, humans and the snake community lived together in harmony.Snakes never hissed and humans never danced.This ancient historic event took place ages ago during the reign of Prince Arjuna,the great ruler of the Choudary kingdom.
Prince Arjuna had a special liking for dance and hunting.Dancing and Hunting are not directly related to each other .He was the only person who was skilled with the art of 'Nrutya'.He was modest and humble.He was benevolent.His ministry comprised of highly talented ministers like Bahadur Sunil,Vaidya Riya,Intelligent Richa and many more.Snakes were friendly and intelligent unlike humans.Saapo,the president of the Snake community was malicious and was against the humans .He didn't want the humans to mingle with the snakes.
"Prince Arjuna,I won't let you rule our dynasty," Saapo,the snake screamed in front of the snake community members.
"I'm planning an attack on the humans ,"he added.
"But, great , humans are supposed to be snakes' best friends, aren't they?," Junior Saapo said.
"I don't give a damn about it, my target is Prince Arjuna," Saapo was furious.
Meanwhile Prince Arjuna of the Royal Choudary family was getting ready for his dance classes.He bowed down in front of his mother to seek her blessings.
"Ammo,me want to develop unity amongst the snake and the humans," he said to his mother.
"Lord Shiva,bless me," he prayed to god.
Saapo overheard all this."Unity between snake and humans,my foot," he said.
He soon thought for a while and churned out a reason from his wicked mind.
"I will see you in Panchayat ,Prince," he gave a wicked smile.
The next day Panchayat was called and all biggies of the blog world including Chronic writer,Solitary writer,Busy writer,Pink Orchid and Yem bee Aye were called.
"May I know the reason for the panchayat,"Prince Arjuna asked Saapo.
"I don't support your selfish attitude," Saapo replied.
"What are you talking ,Saapo? make sense," the prince replied.
"I don't advocate this idea of yours," Saapo,the snake replied.
"Abhey Langoor ke aulad ," the prince got annoyed.
"Why don't you take our snakes with you and teach them the dance ," Saapo said.
"We want justice," Saapo added.
Prince Arjuna didn't have any answer for this question of Saapo.
The Panchayati Samiti soon arranged a meeting.Chronic writer,Solitary writer,Busy writer,Pink Orchid and Yem bee Aye attended the meeting.
"Well ,what is the appropriate solution guys?," Chronic writer said.
"We should ask Arjuna to teach the Snakes," Pink Orchid replied.
"Naa,wait ,We should have a contest between Arjuna and Saapo,a dance contest,"Solitary Writer said.
"I second Solitary writer,we should have some sort of dance contest guys," Yem bee yae smiled.
"But Saapo said snakes don't know dance," Chronic writer said.
"He is a liar Chrony,I've seen Saapo doing rain dance many times," Busy writer said to her team.
"So,there will be a contest between both the parties ,hmm,interesting guys,"Chronic writer giggled.
"Who will be our judge?,"Chronic writer added.
"Lets call Farah Khan and Saroj Khan," Busy writer winked.
"Naa,lets get some guys from our field,call our techie "Saif"," Solitary writer said with a smile.
Saif,the techie for the community was called.He was a scientist and his inventions were famous.It is said that few of his inventions were modified by Sir Isaac Newton as at that era there were no provision of Copyright and Patents.
Saif was made to get in few bloggers from the 21st century with the help of his time machine. The samitee decided to call Ste,Sandeep Balan,Priyanka and Bharghav.
They even called blog fame Leo and Aarthi to host the contest.
Both Prince Arjuna and Saapo agreed to the accord and contest dates were announced.
A week later the contest started. People from "Simply me" ,"Conjuring Kreativity","Pragmatic Utopia"," Illusions","More Orangee","Chemerical thoughts"," Where words are thoughts" and many had come to witness this unique event.
The dance floor was arranged.
"Guys ,its a unique battle between the snakes and the human community," hosts Leo and Aarthi announced.
"We have Sandeep Balan,Ste,Priyanka and Bharghav Saika as our judges for todays contest," Aarthi said.
"It's an important event guys,if humans win,then snakes will lose their ability to stand erect and speech.If snakes win,then humans will lose their ability to speak and think," Leo said.
Prince Arjun and Saapo looked at each other with anger.
"There will be 2 rounds.Fast songs will be played in the first round and Slow songs will be played in the second round.Each judge will give you 25 points and the game will be decided by the scores out of 200 after end of round 2," Leo and Aarthi said.
"Lets start the show," the judges said in unison.
Prince Arjuna came to dance. He twined his body in all possible directions. He danced for 5 minutes.
"Aila,man Arjuna dancing hip hop," Sandeep Balan said to the other judges.
The judges were highly impressed with Arjuna's performance.
"Arjuna,something was missing daa,I am still finding it out, so I give you 21 out of 25,"Priyanka said.
"24 for you da ,no comments simply amazing," Ste gave him a standing ovation.
"22 for you,as Pri said some elements were missing," Sandeep Balan said.
"14 for you ,no expressions,no entertainment ,no excitement," Bharghav said to the prince.
The hosts next called Saapo ,the snake.
The snake was dancing pretty aggresively.He was performing continous movements.
"God,the snake is doing rock and roll," Bhargav grinned.
"23 for you Saapo,you rock," Priyanka said.
"24 for you,superb expressions and aggresions Saapo," Ste said.
"25 for the cute Saapo,god bless you," Sandeep Balan said.
"25 for you.Everything was perfect.Had a perfect feast," Bharghav said.
"So at the end of the first round Prince Arjuna is 81 and Saapo is 97," the anchors said and everyone cheered for Saapo.
It seemed the human race was about to lose the contest.It would be a humiliating defeat.Everyone from the human community encouraged and cheered for their dance representative Prince Arjun.
The second round started and Prince Arjuna came to dance.
He was better than the previous round.He performed some dance.
"24 for you ,perfect fete for us," Priyanka said.
"24 ,you were dancing well this time," Ste said.
"25,I'm impressed ," Sandeep Balan said.
"25,was a delight for us,I will write a review about this dance of yours," Bhargav gave him a standing ovation.
Saapo was over confident and he slipped while dancing.This reflected in his marks.
"10,Sorry," Priyanka refused to speak a word.
"11,didn't accept this," Ste said.
"10,disappointed," Sandeep said with a straight face.
"10," Bhargav said.
"So total after round 2 is different.Prince Arjuna gets 179 and Saapo gets 138," the hosts smiled.
Prince Arjuna laughed and screamed.Saapo was clearly disappointed.His face exhibited his frown.The snakes lost their ability to sense and stand erect.Prince Arjuna rolled on the floor and gigled.
"Snake dance ,Snake dance!," The judges were stunned.
"And thats how snake dance came into existence," Arjun Choudary, the great great grandson of Prince Arjuna said to his other blogger friends.
Arjun Choudary was an expert snake dancer and he used to teach Sandeep Malan sir in his acting school.
"Wow!,so you guys created history ,eh!," the blogger friends said in unison.
"Yes,"Arjun said to his friends with pride.
----------End-----------
To Arjun,
hmm,finally I get to write something for my partner in crime.Partner in crime is what I call him.This is because we both are experts in this field of humour.We love and enjoy writing humour.You rock daa.You are "the humour king" . Hope you write more such beautiful posts and I will be glad to see you back in action.
(From Arjun - When you tell a crazy person to go crazy, wat happens? Such a post happens.. hehe :P ... Thanks for writing this piece bro. I've started Snake dancing classes at my place. You can join in if u r rich enuf.. :P )
Regards,
The Solitary Writer.
First Meeting..!!
( Hey ppl, jus wanna remind that the stories I write and the characters in them are completely fictional. It applies to all the stories I’ve written till date and so with this post. Please pardon me for the exaggeration (in the posts). Forget logics to enjoy. Enjoy)
7am, at my place.
“Today is your first day of college. College is a temple for students, you are not supposed to…..” my dad continued as I sat wondering which of my dozen blue coloured jeans should I be wearing. Dad went on, as I ran to the kitchen, had a mini breakfast and promised dad that I would follow all what he said, though I wasn’t sure of what he had said. I hurried to the college with a ‘suffocating to death experience’ in the crowded bus.
7am. Roshan’s place.
Flouroscent green coloured shirt, which he had bought for Diwali, a navy blue trouser, in front of a mirror, Roshan set his hair and said- “ Wah!” He ran to the white house, to finish his SOS call. “ Stomach upset? On the first day of college? Damn” he shouted at the walls. After duty, he walked back to his dressing table, combed again, flipped the comb away, feeling like a south indian hero, he announced- “Look out girls, I’m coming.” He jumped onto his ‘second-hand’ Scooty and sped to college, realising that his earlier trip to the white house ensured that he would reach college late.
At the classroom, 15 minutes into the first hour.
I yawned while Roshan entered the corridors like a vagrant, realizing that he was already running late by 15 minutes to the class. As he approached the classroom, he noticed a bald headed professor addressing the class. The professor announced- “Now that I’ve told you about this college and it’s history, I’ll tell you something about myself. I’m Prof. T.H Narayan.” I couldn’t hold back my itchy feel to comment- “T.H Narayan, better known as- Three Hairs Narayan.” Few girls laughed while a few nerds made faces of disgust. Roshan, from the door interrupted and asked in express speed-“Excuse me Saaar, Can I please get in Saaar?” and smiled like Shilpa Shetty. “Why are you late, my boy? This is the first class of your course and you are late?” Prof. T.H Narayan looked worried more so with his zany outfit. Roshan had a readymade answer- “ Tyre puncture Saar” not realising that the excuse was as old as ‘rotten bread’. Prof. Narayan, who was a BP patient, counted 1 to 10 in his mind, exhaled deeply and said out of helplessness- “Get in, but don’t repeat it.”
Most girls in the class recognized Roshan and made strange faces at his very sight. He found a seat on the third bench. “Dude, you look like a door-to-door salesman” my mouth was hard to shut. I continued- “ a salesman who sells socks?” looked around and winked- “ or frocks?” but anyway nobody laughed, so I realised it was a PJ and I had to shut up.
Roshan sat lost, dreaming about god-knows-what when he received another SOS call to the white house. His stomach started to churn. It was making strange grunting noises. The Professor continued- “Last year, when Mr. Bill Gates was here, I invited him to my house to show my…”
“Toilet” Roshan stood up. “Saaar, urgent toilet. Please let me go.”
Prof. Narayan counted 1 to 10 in his mind, exhaled deeply and calmly said- “Go. Get lost.” Roshan ran to the loo, while the professor explained to the students as to how the whole chain of his thoughts break if any one student interrupts the whole class. Anyway, after the small lecture, he began again with- “Last year, when Mr. Bill Gates was here, I invited him to my toilet…….that stupid boy….…I am extremely sorry students…Last year, when Mr. Bill Gates was here, I invited him to my house”
“Can I come Sir?” Roshan asked sheepishly from the door. “I mean, can I come into the class, Sir?” he repeated. Once again, Prof. Narayan did his counting and cynically allowed him into the class. I couldn’t control my laughter nor my ever rattling mouth- “Fully downloaded uh?” i said and giggled away. Roshan did settle down in his seat but was feeling really uncomfortable. He was doomed to visit the loo all over again now. Prof. Narayan for the third time, again continued- “Last year, when Mr. Bill Gates was here, I invited him to my house to see my house. He knows my wife well because of her involvement in charity work and asked if he could take her along with him to my...”
“Toilet” Roshan stood again and said- “Saar, need to go to the toilet again.Urgent toilet Saar”
Prof. T.H Narayan who was a BP patient did no longer control himself, he almost pulled off those three hairs that was left in him, grabbed his ink pen, aimed and flung it towards Roshan and ran towards him.
Now, I wonder- That same fellow is Roshan, my buddy. ‘Fate’ was drunk when it noticed me, I guess.
7am, at my place.
“Today is your first day of college. College is a temple for students, you are not supposed to…..” my dad continued as I sat wondering which of my dozen blue coloured jeans should I be wearing. Dad went on, as I ran to the kitchen, had a mini breakfast and promised dad that I would follow all what he said, though I wasn’t sure of what he had said. I hurried to the college with a ‘suffocating to death experience’ in the crowded bus.
7am. Roshan’s place.
Flouroscent green coloured shirt, which he had bought for Diwali, a navy blue trouser, in front of a mirror, Roshan set his hair and said- “ Wah!” He ran to the white house, to finish his SOS call. “ Stomach upset? On the first day of college? Damn” he shouted at the walls. After duty, he walked back to his dressing table, combed again, flipped the comb away, feeling like a south indian hero, he announced- “Look out girls, I’m coming.” He jumped onto his ‘second-hand’ Scooty and sped to college, realising that his earlier trip to the white house ensured that he would reach college late.
At the classroom, 15 minutes into the first hour.
I yawned while Roshan entered the corridors like a vagrant, realizing that he was already running late by 15 minutes to the class. As he approached the classroom, he noticed a bald headed professor addressing the class. The professor announced- “Now that I’ve told you about this college and it’s history, I’ll tell you something about myself. I’m Prof. T.H Narayan.” I couldn’t hold back my itchy feel to comment- “T.H Narayan, better known as- Three Hairs Narayan.” Few girls laughed while a few nerds made faces of disgust. Roshan, from the door interrupted and asked in express speed-“Excuse me Saaar, Can I please get in Saaar?” and smiled like Shilpa Shetty. “Why are you late, my boy? This is the first class of your course and you are late?” Prof. T.H Narayan looked worried more so with his zany outfit. Roshan had a readymade answer- “ Tyre puncture Saar” not realising that the excuse was as old as ‘rotten bread’. Prof. Narayan, who was a BP patient, counted 1 to 10 in his mind, exhaled deeply and said out of helplessness- “Get in, but don’t repeat it.”
Most girls in the class recognized Roshan and made strange faces at his very sight. He found a seat on the third bench. “Dude, you look like a door-to-door salesman” my mouth was hard to shut. I continued- “ a salesman who sells socks?” looked around and winked- “ or frocks?” but anyway nobody laughed, so I realised it was a PJ and I had to shut up.
Roshan sat lost, dreaming about god-knows-what when he received another SOS call to the white house. His stomach started to churn. It was making strange grunting noises. The Professor continued- “Last year, when Mr. Bill Gates was here, I invited him to my house to show my…”
“Toilet” Roshan stood up. “Saaar, urgent toilet. Please let me go.”
Prof. Narayan counted 1 to 10 in his mind, exhaled deeply and calmly said- “Go. Get lost.” Roshan ran to the loo, while the professor explained to the students as to how the whole chain of his thoughts break if any one student interrupts the whole class. Anyway, after the small lecture, he began again with- “Last year, when Mr. Bill Gates was here, I invited him to my toilet…….that stupid boy….…I am extremely sorry students…Last year, when Mr. Bill Gates was here, I invited him to my house”
“Can I come Sir?” Roshan asked sheepishly from the door. “I mean, can I come into the class, Sir?” he repeated. Once again, Prof. Narayan did his counting and cynically allowed him into the class. I couldn’t control my laughter nor my ever rattling mouth- “Fully downloaded uh?” i said and giggled away. Roshan did settle down in his seat but was feeling really uncomfortable. He was doomed to visit the loo all over again now. Prof. Narayan for the third time, again continued- “Last year, when Mr. Bill Gates was here, I invited him to my house to see my house. He knows my wife well because of her involvement in charity work and asked if he could take her along with him to my...”
“Toilet” Roshan stood again and said- “Saar, need to go to the toilet again.Urgent toilet Saar”
Prof. T.H Narayan who was a BP patient did no longer control himself, he almost pulled off those three hairs that was left in him, grabbed his ink pen, aimed and flung it towards Roshan and ran towards him.
Now, I wonder- That same fellow is Roshan, my buddy. ‘Fate’ was drunk when it noticed me, I guess.
Oh.. Not Again..!!
One Sunday evening, on a Black ‘Ford’.
“Which one of the two routes, Sir?” the driver turned behind.
“Which one’s better? The one under construction or the one under repair?” I was interested.
“Both equal, Sir. Equally bad.”
“Ok. Take us through the road which would make passengers bump into co-passengers.” I winked.
Akshata, who was seated beside me, poked me in my ribs. The driver showcased his smile through the rear view mirror. Akshata peered through the window as the sun reached the top of the tallest building. I sat quiet observing her, unaware that I wore a thin smile on my face. She turned to me and said- “You want to tell me something, don’t you?”
She had flawless antennae when it came to sensing my emotions. I smiled and enquired the driver- “How far from here? The airport?”
“Another 15 minutes, Sir.”
“I asked you something mister,” she pinched me on my stomach.
“2 long years. I’ll miss you.” I said as she held my hand.
He ran across the street, jumping over dividers and pavements in search of another auto rickshaw. Those fifteen or so drivers, who had turned down the lift, threw glances of amazement- “You…… and … Airport??” He ran, ran and ran. He ran for his life.
I retrieved the not yet sampled newspaper from the front seat, and read out from the sports column- “Thumping win for India against the fighting Pakistanis.”
“I feel like crying.”
“Why? Are you a Pakistan supporter?”
“No idiot. I’ll be missing you and this place for the next two years. I wish I could stay.”
“Oh. Don’t worry, time will fly.”
He, on his mad run, hit a stone, tripped and bumped straight into a tall, thick mustached person. A kind of person who wears khakis and makes a lot of money- A Policeman. After some begging and some ‘wallet shaving’, he continued his run. He ran, ran and ran. He ran for his life.
Akshata attempted to pull this tried and tested game over me- “That guy, your neighbour. He’s hot man. But I noticed a wedding ring today, did you notice that?”
“I don’t notice such things.”
“You guys do it when it’s an attractive woman.”
“Nonsense.” But true.
He stormed into a florist shop, and selected a nice bunch of red, fresh, water sprinkled flowers. He shoved the flowers inside his jacket and scampered to the bus station in hope to find a bus to the airport. As he waited, he drew the flowers, rehearsed his lines and sneezed as the flowers tickled his nose. Minutes ticked, when he realised this was going to serve him no good and decided to run and run as though avoiding the electric chair.
Meanwhile I had a secret conversation with the driver, where I told him to retrieve the bouquet from the glove box, as soon as the car comes to a halt outside the airport terminal. Akshata trying to catch our conversation interrupted- “What does the driver want?”
“Your phone number.”
“Why do I ask you questions?”
“No clue.” I twisted my lips.
He was breathing heavily now, one, for the reason that he was running like he had ants in his pants and two, for the reason that the ‘Moment’ had arrived. He put an eye in search of a black ‘Ford’.”
The car cut across from the main road and headed straight towards a relatively empty airport terminal at this hour. As the car moved closer and closer, Akshata grabbed my palms and rubbed it soothingly mumbling words in a thin voice- “I’ll miss u dear. I don’t wanna go…”
The car came to a halt and the driver as instructed, pushed the flower bouquet into my hands and slid out of the car. Akshata looked in amazement, as I held her hand and moved the bouquet gently into her soft palms and said – “ Akshata, I think you know it. I’m madly in love with you. Love you da. Miss you baby.” I saw tears trickling down her cheeks as she grabbed me and hugged me tight with her head resting on my shoulder- “ Love you too da. Love you too.” She wiped her tears.
Just then, we heard a knock on the window, and on lowering the glass, we were exposed to a person, with a flower bouquet in his extended arms. He went on to say- “Sorry Akshata, but I love you. Love you, love you, love you.”
I bent down, to investigate the face of this new Mr.Spoilsport and got drowned in shock as my mouth went dry- “ Hey ..r.r.r…. Roshan..”
P.S - Okay, people new to this blog may not get the Roshan thing at the end. Apologies ;)
“Which one of the two routes, Sir?” the driver turned behind.
“Which one’s better? The one under construction or the one under repair?” I was interested.
“Both equal, Sir. Equally bad.”
“Ok. Take us through the road which would make passengers bump into co-passengers.” I winked.
Akshata, who was seated beside me, poked me in my ribs. The driver showcased his smile through the rear view mirror. Akshata peered through the window as the sun reached the top of the tallest building. I sat quiet observing her, unaware that I wore a thin smile on my face. She turned to me and said- “You want to tell me something, don’t you?”
She had flawless antennae when it came to sensing my emotions. I smiled and enquired the driver- “How far from here? The airport?”
“Another 15 minutes, Sir.”
“I asked you something mister,” she pinched me on my stomach.
“2 long years. I’ll miss you.” I said as she held my hand.
He ran across the street, jumping over dividers and pavements in search of another auto rickshaw. Those fifteen or so drivers, who had turned down the lift, threw glances of amazement- “You…… and … Airport??” He ran, ran and ran. He ran for his life.
I retrieved the not yet sampled newspaper from the front seat, and read out from the sports column- “Thumping win for India against the fighting Pakistanis.”
“I feel like crying.”
“Why? Are you a Pakistan supporter?”
“No idiot. I’ll be missing you and this place for the next two years. I wish I could stay.”
“Oh. Don’t worry, time will fly.”
He, on his mad run, hit a stone, tripped and bumped straight into a tall, thick mustached person. A kind of person who wears khakis and makes a lot of money- A Policeman. After some begging and some ‘wallet shaving’, he continued his run. He ran, ran and ran. He ran for his life.
Akshata attempted to pull this tried and tested game over me- “That guy, your neighbour. He’s hot man. But I noticed a wedding ring today, did you notice that?”
“I don’t notice such things.”
“You guys do it when it’s an attractive woman.”
“Nonsense.” But true.
He stormed into a florist shop, and selected a nice bunch of red, fresh, water sprinkled flowers. He shoved the flowers inside his jacket and scampered to the bus station in hope to find a bus to the airport. As he waited, he drew the flowers, rehearsed his lines and sneezed as the flowers tickled his nose. Minutes ticked, when he realised this was going to serve him no good and decided to run and run as though avoiding the electric chair.
Meanwhile I had a secret conversation with the driver, where I told him to retrieve the bouquet from the glove box, as soon as the car comes to a halt outside the airport terminal. Akshata trying to catch our conversation interrupted- “What does the driver want?”
“Your phone number.”
“Why do I ask you questions?”
“No clue.” I twisted my lips.
He was breathing heavily now, one, for the reason that he was running like he had ants in his pants and two, for the reason that the ‘Moment’ had arrived. He put an eye in search of a black ‘Ford’.”
The car cut across from the main road and headed straight towards a relatively empty airport terminal at this hour. As the car moved closer and closer, Akshata grabbed my palms and rubbed it soothingly mumbling words in a thin voice- “I’ll miss u dear. I don’t wanna go…”
The car came to a halt and the driver as instructed, pushed the flower bouquet into my hands and slid out of the car. Akshata looked in amazement, as I held her hand and moved the bouquet gently into her soft palms and said – “ Akshata, I think you know it. I’m madly in love with you. Love you da. Miss you baby.” I saw tears trickling down her cheeks as she grabbed me and hugged me tight with her head resting on my shoulder- “ Love you too da. Love you too.” She wiped her tears.
Just then, we heard a knock on the window, and on lowering the glass, we were exposed to a person, with a flower bouquet in his extended arms. He went on to say- “Sorry Akshata, but I love you. Love you, love you, love you.”
I bent down, to investigate the face of this new Mr.Spoilsport and got drowned in shock as my mouth went dry- “ Hey ..r.r.r…. Roshan..”
P.S - Okay, people new to this blog may not get the Roshan thing at the end. Apologies ;)
Midnight Outing..!!
(Guys, writing after a long gap. Lost touch. But anyway (try to) enjoy it :) )
“Damn… These mosquitoes….. Dude, I'm not able to sleep at all.” Roshan almost cried.
“Think about your ex, think about the day you got your board exam results and the day your neighbour’s dog bit you…..” I went on like a ‘Reality Show’ judge..
“Shut up. Oh my god, you just ruined my night’s sleep.” Roshan sat up trying to forget everything that I had told him to recollect. He shook his head and continued- “Okay. Now tell me, how to get rid of these mosquitoes? Man, they come close to my ears and make stupid sounds.”
“You’ve got to take revenge on them man. Show them your man-ness.”
“But how??” Roshan said, though the ‘how’ was dragged so much that it sounded like a wolf’s howl.
I stood and marched to the cupboard to fetch my CD pouch, slipped out an audio CD from it and passed it on to Roshan- “Take this.”
“Latest Hits OF Himesh Reshammia?”
“Yup. What better way to take revenge on those mosquitoes uh??”
He kicked me hard after which he hurt his toe, howled like a wolf again and went back to his bed. I mean, any mad fan of Himesh would have done the same. All was well from my side, as eventually I had ended up irritating him more than those little useless mosquitoes.
An hour later……
I noticed Roshan sitting against me wearing one of those Shilpa Shetty’s fake IPL smiles. He growled - “You ruined my sleep you idiot.”
I returned a girlish smile, which pissed him off even more. He pulled my blanket out as if he was planning to strip me, but just said, rather ordered- “We are going for a ride. Get up.”
Cruising at a high speed, there we were, on the streets of Bangalore as the clock struck 2 in the morning. We rode along as the cold breeze tickled our ears, the silence around gave a becalming effect and the blood pressures raised with every turn he took. I yelled at him from the rear seat- “Ride carefully. I almost met god last time I sat behind you.”
“You are not on the pavement, so you are safe.” He yelled back.
I didn’t actually quite stab him but I was tempted to say – “Go to hell” but again, I was intelligent enough to hold it back realising the irony that it would present considering that I was sitting behind him.
Anyway, finally Roshan spotted the brakes and the bike was brought to rest. I realised that we had tripped 10kms in pursuit of a cigarette. His wafer-thin wallet had enough in it to afford a cigarette for him and a cool-drink for me. He gazed strenuously at me and enquired out of frustration – “When will you grow up?”
“I read about the evils of smoking, I gave up smoking.” I smiled.
“I read about the evils of smoking, I gave up reading.” He smiled.
I returned the stare like I had glasses slipping from the tip of my nose. He continued gazing at me, now like a devil with his face engulfed in smoke. I continued with my cool-drink, staring at the sky as he continued puffing away smoke staring at street dogs. Just as it was getting boring, a girl wearing pants which almost started from her thighs came by and asked Roshan- “What kinda' person are you?”
“Who? Me?” Roshan bulged his eyes showing excitement as he hid his tautness.
“Yes baby.” She smiled.
“I’m basically a diplomatic person.” Roshan replied in a way which reminded me of my class 10, slightly eccentric Maths teacher.
“If you think, completing your ‘diploma’ course is what is being ‘diplomatic’ then you are wrong you stupid.” I said clamorously busy staring at ‘nothing’.
The girl, an intelligent one I concluded, turned to me and asked me straight- “You want that stuff?” as she dug out a packet of a whitish powder from her bore well sized pocket. Roshan, who was aghast at seeing her with drugs, leapt on to the bike and threw it into ignition and rustled –“ Dude, come over. Fast.” I walked to the bike with one eye fixed to the girl ( like James Bond), said- “ Tell me if that powder doesn’t work, I have a CD of Himesh Reshammia’s latest hits” and off we went as Roshan played with the accelerator putting the lives of street dogs into jeopardy.
As we reached home, Roshan went into a mood where he sounded like a retired senior citizen, with his ears being fed with some ‘latest hits’ of those silly mosquitoes. He went on and on with his morality talks, which reminded me of a line – “If electricity comes from electrons does it mean morality comes from morons?” Anyway, that’s when I realised that there are worse things in life than death, spending an evening (sounds better than ‘night’) with Roshan.
“Damn… These mosquitoes….. Dude, I'm not able to sleep at all.” Roshan almost cried.
“Think about your ex, think about the day you got your board exam results and the day your neighbour’s dog bit you…..” I went on like a ‘Reality Show’ judge..
“Shut up. Oh my god, you just ruined my night’s sleep.” Roshan sat up trying to forget everything that I had told him to recollect. He shook his head and continued- “Okay. Now tell me, how to get rid of these mosquitoes? Man, they come close to my ears and make stupid sounds.”
“You’ve got to take revenge on them man. Show them your man-ness.”
“But how??” Roshan said, though the ‘how’ was dragged so much that it sounded like a wolf’s howl.
I stood and marched to the cupboard to fetch my CD pouch, slipped out an audio CD from it and passed it on to Roshan- “Take this.”
“Latest Hits OF Himesh Reshammia?”
“Yup. What better way to take revenge on those mosquitoes uh??”
He kicked me hard after which he hurt his toe, howled like a wolf again and went back to his bed. I mean, any mad fan of Himesh would have done the same. All was well from my side, as eventually I had ended up irritating him more than those little useless mosquitoes.
An hour later……
I noticed Roshan sitting against me wearing one of those Shilpa Shetty’s fake IPL smiles. He growled - “You ruined my sleep you idiot.”
I returned a girlish smile, which pissed him off even more. He pulled my blanket out as if he was planning to strip me, but just said, rather ordered- “We are going for a ride. Get up.”
Cruising at a high speed, there we were, on the streets of Bangalore as the clock struck 2 in the morning. We rode along as the cold breeze tickled our ears, the silence around gave a becalming effect and the blood pressures raised with every turn he took. I yelled at him from the rear seat- “Ride carefully. I almost met god last time I sat behind you.”
“You are not on the pavement, so you are safe.” He yelled back.
I didn’t actually quite stab him but I was tempted to say – “Go to hell” but again, I was intelligent enough to hold it back realising the irony that it would present considering that I was sitting behind him.
Anyway, finally Roshan spotted the brakes and the bike was brought to rest. I realised that we had tripped 10kms in pursuit of a cigarette. His wafer-thin wallet had enough in it to afford a cigarette for him and a cool-drink for me. He gazed strenuously at me and enquired out of frustration – “When will you grow up?”
“I read about the evils of smoking, I gave up smoking.” I smiled.
“I read about the evils of smoking, I gave up reading.” He smiled.
I returned the stare like I had glasses slipping from the tip of my nose. He continued gazing at me, now like a devil with his face engulfed in smoke. I continued with my cool-drink, staring at the sky as he continued puffing away smoke staring at street dogs. Just as it was getting boring, a girl wearing pants which almost started from her thighs came by and asked Roshan- “What kinda' person are you?”
“Who? Me?” Roshan bulged his eyes showing excitement as he hid his tautness.
“Yes baby.” She smiled.
“I’m basically a diplomatic person.” Roshan replied in a way which reminded me of my class 10, slightly eccentric Maths teacher.
“If you think, completing your ‘diploma’ course is what is being ‘diplomatic’ then you are wrong you stupid.” I said clamorously busy staring at ‘nothing’.
The girl, an intelligent one I concluded, turned to me and asked me straight- “You want that stuff?” as she dug out a packet of a whitish powder from her bore well sized pocket. Roshan, who was aghast at seeing her with drugs, leapt on to the bike and threw it into ignition and rustled –“ Dude, come over. Fast.” I walked to the bike with one eye fixed to the girl ( like James Bond), said- “ Tell me if that powder doesn’t work, I have a CD of Himesh Reshammia’s latest hits” and off we went as Roshan played with the accelerator putting the lives of street dogs into jeopardy.
As we reached home, Roshan went into a mood where he sounded like a retired senior citizen, with his ears being fed with some ‘latest hits’ of those silly mosquitoes. He went on and on with his morality talks, which reminded me of a line – “If electricity comes from electrons does it mean morality comes from morons?” Anyway, that’s when I realised that there are worse things in life than death, spending an evening (sounds better than ‘night’) with Roshan.
Polit(r)ic(k)s..!!
( Hey guys, sorry, have been away from blogging. As they say- It's so difficult to be doing nothing coz you never know when you're finished. Anyway, in the meanwhile I thought I would repost a few small quickies that I had written long ago. Would come up with a post soon. hehe ;) .. cya)
In a congregation, at a small constituency in rural India.
Person1 - There’s been no supply of tomatoes into our town since last week. What is the matter?
Politician- (smiles) I know. I’ll look into it.
Person2- No supply of eggs too. What about that?
Politician- (smiles)I know. I’lll look into it.
Person3- You haven’t visited our constituency since the day you were elected into power. Now, all of a sudden, what makes you come here?
Politician- (smiles) You people are ‘God’ to me. I’ve come here to seek blessings from you. As you know, elections are coming up. Please vote for me.
All the gathered people, with crimson red faces, scanned around themselves in search of anything that could be hurled or pelted.
Politician- (smiles) No tomatoes?? no eggs uh???
In a congregation, at a small constituency in rural India.
Person1 - There’s been no supply of tomatoes into our town since last week. What is the matter?
Politician- (smiles) I know. I’ll look into it.
Person2- No supply of eggs too. What about that?
Politician- (smiles)I know. I’lll look into it.
Person3- You haven’t visited our constituency since the day you were elected into power. Now, all of a sudden, what makes you come here?
Politician- (smiles) You people are ‘God’ to me. I’ve come here to seek blessings from you. As you know, elections are coming up. Please vote for me.
All the gathered people, with crimson red faces, scanned around themselves in search of anything that could be hurled or pelted.
Politician- (smiles) No tomatoes?? no eggs uh???
Inauguration..!!
“Arjun…Arjunnnnn….. hey idiot Arjunnnn…….” I heard at 7 in the morning as my alarm clock had exhausted it’s battery life. As usually I was in the US, sightseeing with Mr. Obama. I mean I was in my dreams. “Abeee Oyeeeeee” someone screamed again.
“Who the hell is that nut head??” I wondered, rolled and dived like an Olympic Gold medalist into the ground bruising my forehead over the floor. I stood up rubbing my head to realize that I was in my bed room and my trip was over. In other words, the night was over.
“Dabba nan magane (useless fellow)…Arjunnnnnnn…” I heard again. I walked to the front door and opened it to find Roshan with his jogging gear on.
“Hi da, what’s up?” I asked which pissed him off like crazy.
“Bloody damn ass. We decided to go jogging today… Don’t you remember?
“Did we? Isn’t it late now? Can we go now?” I enquired in an American accent.
“Yes We Can” he announced like Mr.Obama.
I walked back still rubbing my eyes convincing myself that I was awake now and I was in India. I too put on my jogging gear on, banged the door behind me and said to Roshan who was tying his shoe laces- “Don’t delay man. This is what I hate about you.”
He found a stone and pelted at me. Anyway, we finally hit the road, jogging along towards the park. As we jogged along, we discussed matters varying from national issues like- “If it was NIKE or REEBOK that was pelted at our Home minister” to local issues like- “The best Bunking strategy for the next day’s class.” He then noticed a street dog to his right and hence immediately shifted his position to the left of me. Anyway, we jogged along talking about this and that, though we were occasionally distracted by either very good looking girls or either very bad ones.
As the jogging had come to a halt and we were both puffing with our hands on our knees, we found a huge gathering a few meters ahead of us. The banner said- “Inauguration Of Nirmala Public Toilet.”
At first we thought, Mrs. Nirmala was the owner of this toilet, but then realized that ‘Nirmala’ meant ‘Clean’and not a name. As we read further we learnt that it will be inaugurated by a local MLA. And the most exciting and funny part was that free breakfast would be served after the inauguration. I was picturing a scene on my mind where Roshan runs to the toilet and asks- Is the breakfast ready?
Roshan who was standing with his eyes fixed to the newly built public toilet was lost in thoughts. I dint want to disturb him, so went to check out as to what was getting prepared for breakfast. Nice hot Kesari Bath was getting ready and I returned to Roshan to convey the good news. Roshan still stood staring at the public toilet as if he was staring at an ex-girl friend who’d ditched him. He finally, slowly turned to me and said with a low voice- “Dude, now I really need to go to the toilet.”
“Just by seeing a toilet??”
“Yeah man. That’s my weakness.”
“How tragic!!”
“I’m going in. Urgent” he said and walked towards it. People were tying the ribbon which the MLA was supposed to cut for the inauguration. He pushed a 10 rupee note to a cleaner and entered the toilet from under the ribbon. Meanwhile I walked to the dining area and enquired as to when the breakfast will be ready. Meanwhile, the MLA had arrived and Roshan was still inside the White-House. I climbed a nearby compound wall and watched the scene.
The MLA cut the ribbon and a loud round of applauds made its way. Just then, with ultimate grace, like in a fashion show, Mr.Roshan was seen walking out from inside and everyone looked with their eye brows hooked in amazement. The MLA gaped astonishingly and disgustingly at him in confusion. Roshan mustered a shameless smile and even more shamelessly said- “ Nice Toilet” smiled and hurried out like a sheep.
Anyway, finally we had the Kesari Bath and coffee after which I had to visit the White-House. Later, as we were ready to leave, I announced- “We have just ‘inaugurated’ a public toilet in the true sense of the word. I’m proud.”
“Who the hell is that nut head??” I wondered, rolled and dived like an Olympic Gold medalist into the ground bruising my forehead over the floor. I stood up rubbing my head to realize that I was in my bed room and my trip was over. In other words, the night was over.
“Dabba nan magane (useless fellow)…Arjunnnnnnn…” I heard again. I walked to the front door and opened it to find Roshan with his jogging gear on.
“Hi da, what’s up?” I asked which pissed him off like crazy.
“Bloody damn ass. We decided to go jogging today… Don’t you remember?
“Did we? Isn’t it late now? Can we go now?” I enquired in an American accent.
“Yes We Can” he announced like Mr.Obama.
I walked back still rubbing my eyes convincing myself that I was awake now and I was in India. I too put on my jogging gear on, banged the door behind me and said to Roshan who was tying his shoe laces- “Don’t delay man. This is what I hate about you.”
He found a stone and pelted at me. Anyway, we finally hit the road, jogging along towards the park. As we jogged along, we discussed matters varying from national issues like- “If it was NIKE or REEBOK that was pelted at our Home minister” to local issues like- “The best Bunking strategy for the next day’s class.” He then noticed a street dog to his right and hence immediately shifted his position to the left of me. Anyway, we jogged along talking about this and that, though we were occasionally distracted by either very good looking girls or either very bad ones.
As the jogging had come to a halt and we were both puffing with our hands on our knees, we found a huge gathering a few meters ahead of us. The banner said- “Inauguration Of Nirmala Public Toilet.”
At first we thought, Mrs. Nirmala was the owner of this toilet, but then realized that ‘Nirmala’ meant ‘Clean’and not a name. As we read further we learnt that it will be inaugurated by a local MLA. And the most exciting and funny part was that free breakfast would be served after the inauguration. I was picturing a scene on my mind where Roshan runs to the toilet and asks- Is the breakfast ready?
Roshan who was standing with his eyes fixed to the newly built public toilet was lost in thoughts. I dint want to disturb him, so went to check out as to what was getting prepared for breakfast. Nice hot Kesari Bath was getting ready and I returned to Roshan to convey the good news. Roshan still stood staring at the public toilet as if he was staring at an ex-girl friend who’d ditched him. He finally, slowly turned to me and said with a low voice- “Dude, now I really need to go to the toilet.”
“Just by seeing a toilet??”
“Yeah man. That’s my weakness.”
“How tragic!!”
“I’m going in. Urgent” he said and walked towards it. People were tying the ribbon which the MLA was supposed to cut for the inauguration. He pushed a 10 rupee note to a cleaner and entered the toilet from under the ribbon. Meanwhile I walked to the dining area and enquired as to when the breakfast will be ready. Meanwhile, the MLA had arrived and Roshan was still inside the White-House. I climbed a nearby compound wall and watched the scene.
The MLA cut the ribbon and a loud round of applauds made its way. Just then, with ultimate grace, like in a fashion show, Mr.Roshan was seen walking out from inside and everyone looked with their eye brows hooked in amazement. The MLA gaped astonishingly and disgustingly at him in confusion. Roshan mustered a shameless smile and even more shamelessly said- “ Nice Toilet” smiled and hurried out like a sheep.
Anyway, finally we had the Kesari Bath and coffee after which I had to visit the White-House. Later, as we were ready to leave, I announced- “We have just ‘inaugurated’ a public toilet in the true sense of the word. I’m proud.”
Midnight Utopia..!!
“Sonaaaaliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii………………” I screamed as the clock struck 3 in the morning, in my hostel room.
Sensing that I was still asleep, Roshan brought a jug full of water and poured it on me. Drowned with water and shock, I tried to sit, trying to catch my breath and thoughts as the water entered my nostrils. That bastard could have just sprinkled water on me.
“Oh God! What kind of a mad ass are you?” Roshan asked restlessly feeling helpless about me- the enigma.
“Same to you.” I smiled and blasted- “Go get the towel you stupid.”
As he passed the towel to me, he said with ineffable restlessness- “ You literally kill me with your dreams everyday. How many tonnes of crap do you have loaded into that useless head of yours?”
I was recollecting my dream without even renting out an ear to his ‘woe blabbering’. I said interrupting him- “ Okay listen to my dream” and began with the unvarnished version of the mid-night crap-
The sky encircled me with dark, gray clouds. I clad a white shirt with a white dhoti in a pukka South Indian village style. A tall, black guy stood facing me around 10 metres from me with a stare, a forest of a moustache and a knife in his hand. With his other hand, he held my girlfriend, Sonali's throat. I looked at my slippers and then at the sky, removed my sunglasses and flipped it aside. The first drop of rain reached my forehead, which ignited my show of bravery and man-ness. With a tough look on my face I lifted my right leg as if to show him my thighs. Then I lifted my right hand and slapped hard on my right thigh and just as I slapped the thigh, a loud thunder broke out and the downpour began. With that, the guy trembled with fear, released the girl and ran for his life. Sonali ran to me and hugged me and was about to kiss when the director hurriedly shouted- “CUT. Take Okay.”
I added to Roshan, who was with his ears open to my preposterous dream story, cleaning all the excess water on the floor after he had poured it on me- “ Dude, the damn director. I was reminded of our guru, Navjot Singh Sidhu’s saying- “ The ball missed the bat just like a kiss in an Indian movie.”
‘Crap-disinterested Mr. Roshan enquired- “ And you shouted Sonaaliii for that?”
“No, you stupid.” I continued- “ That’s after another scene in the movie.”
“Fuck You.”
“Thank You.”
Unlike Roshan, I was excited, so I continued- “ And you know what? I won the Indian equivalent of ‘The Oscars’ – ‘The Bhaskars’ for this role. You ever got such a dream in you lifetime?”
“Thank God. No.”
Roshan, in pursuit of time-pass, asked out of curiosity- “ What was that next part which made you shout so loud like Tarzan?”
I smiled and started-
I paid 100 bucks for a bunch of flowers, which costs just 50 bucks and began to run to the railway station. Though there were taxis all around, I had to confine myself to running. My sweat and tears merged confusingly as I sped across the city like a thief who stole flowers. My informers (a bunch of comedians) had informed me that Sonali’s dad (the villain by the way) was taking her away from me to an unknown place. The train began it’s movement as I reached the station entrance. I dint care to buy a platform ticket but ran, jumping around like Jackie Chan. The train was speeding away from the platform when I spotted Sonali from the train extending a hand towards me with tears flowing through her like a waterfall. I ran and ran, but the train was faster and I couldn’t reach her. Now my 100 bucks worth flowers and my life was totally wasted. So I waited for the next train to enter the platform, and as it came along, I jumped in front of it shouting out loud- “ Sonaaaliiiiiiiiiiii…..”
It was 6 in the morning now, Roshan scratched his head after listening to my story and walked into the bathroom to get ready for college. Then it was my turn, and then we headed to college, where I narrated this story to a bunch of guys who all scratched their heads later and then I headed back home and fell asleep.
At 3 AM, the next morning, I shouted with roof-threatening levels of sound- “Yeahhhhhhhh..!!! I won ‘The Bhaskars’ …. Yeahhhh..!!” which made Roshan waste another jug of water.
Sensing that I was still asleep, Roshan brought a jug full of water and poured it on me. Drowned with water and shock, I tried to sit, trying to catch my breath and thoughts as the water entered my nostrils. That bastard could have just sprinkled water on me.
“Oh God! What kind of a mad ass are you?” Roshan asked restlessly feeling helpless about me- the enigma.
“Same to you.” I smiled and blasted- “Go get the towel you stupid.”
As he passed the towel to me, he said with ineffable restlessness- “ You literally kill me with your dreams everyday. How many tonnes of crap do you have loaded into that useless head of yours?”
I was recollecting my dream without even renting out an ear to his ‘woe blabbering’. I said interrupting him- “ Okay listen to my dream” and began with the unvarnished version of the mid-night crap-
The sky encircled me with dark, gray clouds. I clad a white shirt with a white dhoti in a pukka South Indian village style. A tall, black guy stood facing me around 10 metres from me with a stare, a forest of a moustache and a knife in his hand. With his other hand, he held my girlfriend, Sonali's throat. I looked at my slippers and then at the sky, removed my sunglasses and flipped it aside. The first drop of rain reached my forehead, which ignited my show of bravery and man-ness. With a tough look on my face I lifted my right leg as if to show him my thighs. Then I lifted my right hand and slapped hard on my right thigh and just as I slapped the thigh, a loud thunder broke out and the downpour began. With that, the guy trembled with fear, released the girl and ran for his life. Sonali ran to me and hugged me and was about to kiss when the director hurriedly shouted- “CUT. Take Okay.”
I added to Roshan, who was with his ears open to my preposterous dream story, cleaning all the excess water on the floor after he had poured it on me- “ Dude, the damn director. I was reminded of our guru, Navjot Singh Sidhu’s saying- “ The ball missed the bat just like a kiss in an Indian movie.”
‘Crap-disinterested Mr. Roshan enquired- “ And you shouted Sonaaliii for that?”
“No, you stupid.” I continued- “ That’s after another scene in the movie.”
“Fuck You.”
“Thank You.”
Unlike Roshan, I was excited, so I continued- “ And you know what? I won the Indian equivalent of ‘The Oscars’ – ‘The Bhaskars’ for this role. You ever got such a dream in you lifetime?”
“Thank God. No.”
Roshan, in pursuit of time-pass, asked out of curiosity- “ What was that next part which made you shout so loud like Tarzan?”
I smiled and started-
I paid 100 bucks for a bunch of flowers, which costs just 50 bucks and began to run to the railway station. Though there were taxis all around, I had to confine myself to running. My sweat and tears merged confusingly as I sped across the city like a thief who stole flowers. My informers (a bunch of comedians) had informed me that Sonali’s dad (the villain by the way) was taking her away from me to an unknown place. The train began it’s movement as I reached the station entrance. I dint care to buy a platform ticket but ran, jumping around like Jackie Chan. The train was speeding away from the platform when I spotted Sonali from the train extending a hand towards me with tears flowing through her like a waterfall. I ran and ran, but the train was faster and I couldn’t reach her. Now my 100 bucks worth flowers and my life was totally wasted. So I waited for the next train to enter the platform, and as it came along, I jumped in front of it shouting out loud- “ Sonaaaliiiiiiiiiiii…..”
It was 6 in the morning now, Roshan scratched his head after listening to my story and walked into the bathroom to get ready for college. Then it was my turn, and then we headed to college, where I narrated this story to a bunch of guys who all scratched their heads later and then I headed back home and fell asleep.
At 3 AM, the next morning, I shouted with roof-threatening levels of sound- “Yeahhhhhhhh..!!! I won ‘The Bhaskars’ …. Yeahhhh..!!” which made Roshan waste another jug of water.
Heavy Party..!!
Me and Roshan, after a brain storming session filled with arguments came to the conclusion that we should also include a greeting card along with a birthday present (a monster gorilla) to his neighbour’s kid- Nikil a.k.a Dangerous Darling, on his birthday. We bought a Birthday card on which I was about to write the regular- ‘ With Love from……’ when Roshan interrupted in a way they interrupted marriages in movies. He said to me- “ Even pharmacists are clueless about your hand writing. Give it to me, I’ll write.” A lady standing beside giggled trying to look at the ceiling. I’m basically dust-proof, rain-proof and insult-proof. So, I just walked away. Anyway, after all that non-sense, we entered the party hall, which actually looked like more non-sense. Nikil ran to us and we wished him and presented him the gift and the card & in return he gave us Birthday caps (cones) and paper trumpets (we call it pee-pee). I blew hard with it and all the kids followed suit, which made me close my ears and made their parents’ BP levels rise. People who knew me well enough, in a weird way could conveniently establish the relation between- Parents’ BP levels and me. That didn’t make me any prouder, but as I said, I was insult-proof.
Anyway, they served us a ‘Welcome Drink’. Holding the drink we found a seat for ourselves. While I could finish a glass of juice in 4 seconds, Roshan takes 4 minutes. He’s like a lazy senior citizen. Meanwhile one known ‘aunty’, who was extra-large in size came by and said to me with a wicked, disgusting smile- “ You have gained weight. You were so good looking.” The happiest person on earth at that point of time, Roshan replied- “ Aunty, I have a six pack. Did I tell you? ”
Aunty smiled and looked at me waiting for a reply. I thought about many replies but said- “ He has a six pack. I have a family-pack.” She laughed but wasn’t amazed. Who cares?
Then, dinner was ready for me and I was ready for dinner. My plate got so jam-packed that I couldn’t even see the plate. I found a seat to hog on to the stuff on my plate. Meanwhile the kids put color papers and some scrap on my head and took snaps. They loved me like hell. I was reminded of the joke- “I have just returned from a children's party. I'm one of the survivors.” Roshan dint find any girl, so he sat quiet. He suddenly went to a two year old kid and started talking- “ chu chu chu… chu chu chu…” and I began to wonder who was two year old. Meanwhile that extra-large aunty came by along with her daughter. She pointed at me and told her daughter- “ Go ask him if that is a basket ball or his tummy.” They both giggled. They themselves were extra large and that tested my ‘insult-proofing.’ It was time to show my ‘man-ness’. I looked out for Roshan for company but he had already found a girl and was talking some crap like how much he liked ice-creams.
Anyway, I walked to that aunty and her daughter. The children just started singing- “ Humpty Dumpty…” I asked aunty curiously- “ Aunty, do you measure your weight in a weighing machine or a Richter scale?” and sang along “Humpty Dumty sat on a wall…” with the kids.
Anyway, they served us a ‘Welcome Drink’. Holding the drink we found a seat for ourselves. While I could finish a glass of juice in 4 seconds, Roshan takes 4 minutes. He’s like a lazy senior citizen. Meanwhile one known ‘aunty’, who was extra-large in size came by and said to me with a wicked, disgusting smile- “ You have gained weight. You were so good looking.” The happiest person on earth at that point of time, Roshan replied- “ Aunty, I have a six pack. Did I tell you? ”
Aunty smiled and looked at me waiting for a reply. I thought about many replies but said- “ He has a six pack. I have a family-pack.” She laughed but wasn’t amazed. Who cares?
Then, dinner was ready for me and I was ready for dinner. My plate got so jam-packed that I couldn’t even see the plate. I found a seat to hog on to the stuff on my plate. Meanwhile the kids put color papers and some scrap on my head and took snaps. They loved me like hell. I was reminded of the joke- “I have just returned from a children's party. I'm one of the survivors.” Roshan dint find any girl, so he sat quiet. He suddenly went to a two year old kid and started talking- “ chu chu chu… chu chu chu…” and I began to wonder who was two year old. Meanwhile that extra-large aunty came by along with her daughter. She pointed at me and told her daughter- “ Go ask him if that is a basket ball or his tummy.” They both giggled. They themselves were extra large and that tested my ‘insult-proofing.’ It was time to show my ‘man-ness’. I looked out for Roshan for company but he had already found a girl and was talking some crap like how much he liked ice-creams.
Anyway, I walked to that aunty and her daughter. The children just started singing- “ Humpty Dumpty…” I asked aunty curiously- “ Aunty, do you measure your weight in a weighing machine or a Richter scale?” and sang along “Humpty Dumty sat on a wall…” with the kids.
Gesticulating A Bribe..!!
The clock struck 7 when I woke up. I opened the main door, walked into the lawn with a yawn. I stood there and stretched trying for a peek at the rising sun. As I did that I noticed some object, thin like a cane, white in color with the sun in the background hurling towards me. Anything that’s hurling towards me was danger, of course. I wondered if it was a terrorist attack or if it was my ex- girl friend’s handy work. I pushed the panic button and went on a mission- Run-for-your-life. I turned around to run, but before I could gather any further thoughts or paces, it hit me on the back of my head and rebounded on to the ground. I dint fall and die at once. So, I looked around cautiously and then contemplated the object. I almost kicked myself when I observed that it was the newspaper, rolled and launched by my paper guy. I grabbed the newspaper and walked to the raised compound wall to find the paper guy. He stood with his bicycle wearing a straight face maybe wanting to kill me in real. I made an inverted hook with my eye-brow and gave him a hard long stare like a 1972 villain. It would have looked more poignant if someone flashed a red-light on my face. But anyway, he stood silent and made continuous movements with his head, looking at me for a second and looking at the ground for another second. I got a feeling he was run by a malfunctioned battery or something. Before I could say anything, he said sorry and escaped.
I went back in to the lawn, jumped onto the recliner. I unfolded the newspaper to see who died, who did a fraud, who kissed Rakhi Sawanth and to check the humour column (I mean, our politicians’ statements). The headline “ Seat belts compulsory for four-wheelers- Traffic Police” caught my eye. I live in a city where a day without a traffic jam is like a burger without the bun. I mean, the maximum speed I could achieve was about 30 kms/hr. All that a seat belt could do is to hold you back for a second thought in case you felt like running away getting mad of traffic. For me, seat belts in a city made no sense. On the other hand, there’s no such rule on a highway, where it at least made some sense. As the joke goes- “ If you can’t tighten your brakes, you make your horn louder” our government follows suit. They don’t repair roads but they impose a helmet rule (for instance). And this one- “ You are invited for lunch tomorrow. By the way it’s your funeral tonight.” I’m talking about the rosy post-dated cheque the government offers to the dead person’s family.
Anyway, I walked back inside, showered, readied myself to leave for a friend’s marriage function and left. I drove my car along at 20 kms/hr without a seat belt and with no prizes for guessing at all, a traffic police inspector spotted & stopped me. “Oh these idiotic pot bellies..” I said to myself and pulled up the car by the pavement. “Bring your Driving license and Insurance papers here,” he demanded. I searched for my license card and found it. I examined the web-cam-captured-photo on my License card and got irritated all over again. I looked like one of those Arab terrorists after being captured & tortured. When I found the insurance papers, I was amazed to realize that my car was insured while I was not. But anyway I was still a student. So, with both the documents I walked up to that damn inspector. He examined them and said to me as if he was so hurt by my bad behavior- “ You look to be educated and decent. Why do you break the rules?” Man, if he deduced that I look decent by looking at that photo, he should immediately be shown to a neurologist. Anyway, he almost cried at me and asked-“ Why sir? Why? No seat belt?” I tried to remember the last instance when my own parents got so worried about me. I couldn’t even remember.
He then finally, like as if he lost speech, told me- “500 rupees sir.”
“What the f……” I controlled myself before I could say that word and continued-“ What? How much? Why?”
He said bluntly- “That’s the fine. No seat belt, illegal number plate and the tinted glass is too dark.”
Crap. These idiots come up with something or the other. I wanted to say to him –“ I’m not educated nor decent. Will you give me a concession?” But I dint. It’s better not to mess with these ‘drum bellies’. I said- “ I have just 100 rupees with me” though I had much more.
“No Sir. The fine is 500 rupees”, he said.
It looked like a silly game when I repeated my sentence for another 5 to 6 times, he too repeated his sentence that many times. But then, after few more repetitions in different tones, the deal was done. 100 rupees. For a fact, I’m very talented. But the point is, this was a bribe, not a fine. The actual fine would have also just come up to around 200 bucks, not 500, but one just couldn’t argue with these traffic inspectors. More you argue, more the fine would grow.
Meanwhile, as I searched for the 100 bucks, a beggar came by and begged for money. I digged out Rs110 and passed it to the beggar and told him to keep 10 bucks and pass the rest to the police guy. He did so promptly.
Before the policeman could realize my heartfelt gesture, I escaped from there just like my paper guy.
I went back in to the lawn, jumped onto the recliner. I unfolded the newspaper to see who died, who did a fraud, who kissed Rakhi Sawanth and to check the humour column (I mean, our politicians’ statements). The headline “ Seat belts compulsory for four-wheelers- Traffic Police” caught my eye. I live in a city where a day without a traffic jam is like a burger without the bun. I mean, the maximum speed I could achieve was about 30 kms/hr. All that a seat belt could do is to hold you back for a second thought in case you felt like running away getting mad of traffic. For me, seat belts in a city made no sense. On the other hand, there’s no such rule on a highway, where it at least made some sense. As the joke goes- “ If you can’t tighten your brakes, you make your horn louder” our government follows suit. They don’t repair roads but they impose a helmet rule (for instance). And this one- “ You are invited for lunch tomorrow. By the way it’s your funeral tonight.” I’m talking about the rosy post-dated cheque the government offers to the dead person’s family.
Anyway, I walked back inside, showered, readied myself to leave for a friend’s marriage function and left. I drove my car along at 20 kms/hr without a seat belt and with no prizes for guessing at all, a traffic police inspector spotted & stopped me. “Oh these idiotic pot bellies..” I said to myself and pulled up the car by the pavement. “Bring your Driving license and Insurance papers here,” he demanded. I searched for my license card and found it. I examined the web-cam-captured-photo on my License card and got irritated all over again. I looked like one of those Arab terrorists after being captured & tortured. When I found the insurance papers, I was amazed to realize that my car was insured while I was not. But anyway I was still a student. So, with both the documents I walked up to that damn inspector. He examined them and said to me as if he was so hurt by my bad behavior- “ You look to be educated and decent. Why do you break the rules?” Man, if he deduced that I look decent by looking at that photo, he should immediately be shown to a neurologist. Anyway, he almost cried at me and asked-“ Why sir? Why? No seat belt?” I tried to remember the last instance when my own parents got so worried about me. I couldn’t even remember.
He then finally, like as if he lost speech, told me- “500 rupees sir.”
“What the f……” I controlled myself before I could say that word and continued-“ What? How much? Why?”
He said bluntly- “That’s the fine. No seat belt, illegal number plate and the tinted glass is too dark.”
Crap. These idiots come up with something or the other. I wanted to say to him –“ I’m not educated nor decent. Will you give me a concession?” But I dint. It’s better not to mess with these ‘drum bellies’. I said- “ I have just 100 rupees with me” though I had much more.
“No Sir. The fine is 500 rupees”, he said.
It looked like a silly game when I repeated my sentence for another 5 to 6 times, he too repeated his sentence that many times. But then, after few more repetitions in different tones, the deal was done. 100 rupees. For a fact, I’m very talented. But the point is, this was a bribe, not a fine. The actual fine would have also just come up to around 200 bucks, not 500, but one just couldn’t argue with these traffic inspectors. More you argue, more the fine would grow.
Meanwhile, as I searched for the 100 bucks, a beggar came by and begged for money. I digged out Rs110 and passed it to the beggar and told him to keep 10 bucks and pass the rest to the police guy. He did so promptly.
Before the policeman could realize my heartfelt gesture, I escaped from there just like my paper guy.
14, 40, 86 and dead. Still a Social Servant..!!
My age was 14. I was known for my social service.
Class 9, section ‘A’, 3:30 pm, History class. What fed our ears were- occasional snores, whispered gossips and somewhere in the background the voice of our teacher who was somewhere in a battlefield in or around the 1900’s. Sitting next to me on my left was the school captain. He was staring at his pen with his chin on the bench since more than ten minutes now. I whispered to him- “What did you have for lunch?” Dint get a reply. I bent forward to look at his face. To my astonishment he was sleeping and that too with half an eye open, like a devil. I realised history was better, so opened my ears for some history lessons. Only then I realized that ma’am was actually dictating notes. So, bad luck. I then, looked to the guy on my right, Roshan. He was smiling but sleeping. Weird guy, really. I imagined a bash on his silly face. It felt nice. Then, I scanned around my surrounding benches only to find a few more of such sleeping Einsteins and a few irksome faces giving me a stare as if they saw my face after 500 years. I couldn’t sleep while the sun was out, that was my main problem. Also, I felt bad for the teacher. But mainly, I was known as the guy who had a golden heart.
I took a deep breath, bashed on Roshan’s smiling, sleeping face and immediately stood up and said loud- “ Ma’am I have a doubt.” Roshan looked clueless.
This move was like pouring ice-cold water on sleeping people. Everyone woke up in astonishment. “WTF? Arjun has a doubt?” was the line doing the rounds. A few pinched on my back. “He doubted history? Oh my god!” were also making rounds. Ma’am was almost about to shed tears of joy, but controlled herself and asked- “What’s that doubt, my boy?”
There were [(61*2)+2] eyeballs gaping at me. I looked at my watch, it was about 10seconds for the bell. On the other hand I dint want to disappoint my fans (classmates).
While everyone wondered what could be that mystery behind history that I was about to ask, I looked at ma’am, smiled and asked- “ When is Sports day?” Trrnnggggg.. The bell rang. There was a huge roar in the class and everyone laughed with words like- jackass, stupid, dumbo,…etc emanating from here and there. Ma’am was staring at me with a weird expression as if she had just spotted the joker in a circus and finally said in disgust- “ What stupid bunch of guys these are!” and left the class. Poor lady, she would say nothing worse.
Everyone packed their bags, and while leaving they all said to me- “ Thanks macha, for waking us up. Thanks for the social service.” I thought of giving them flowers but just said- “ That’s my pleasure. Now get lost.”
My age was 40. I was known for social service.
4pm. Me, my mom and my wife. A saree showroom.
For the first time in my life, I was reminded of the fact that I too was just a normal human being and I too make mistakes. I mean, I just couldn’t believe that I was there for saree shopping with two women. I was sitting in the waiting hall since two hours now, while the dangerous duo of ‘daughter-in-law and mother-in-law’ were selecting sarees to purchase. There were two more middle-class gentlemen to my left who also wore expressions of helplessness, waiting for their wives I suppose. I dint know them personally, but we had similar problems at this point of time. That meant we could be friends with just as much as a snap of the finger. Anyway, I stood up and asked them- “ Shall we go have a cup of coffee?” They looked at me as if I said- “ You are released from Central Jail.” We introduced ourselves and left for coffee. We had a nice cup of coffee and a plate of samosas and I paid for it. By the time we strolled back to the showroom, we were like friends forever. The guy at the billing counter was watching the cricket match in his small little portable TV. I requested him to turn his TV slightly towards us and he did so without a word. I bought three cups of flavoured ‘American Corn’ and we all ate while we watched the match. Just as we thought we were enjoying this, my lady parade arrived after purchasing 3 sarees. I said to the gentlemen- “It was nice meeting you, but I’m happy to say I’m the luckiest. I’m the first one to leave” and smiled. They fell to my feet and with tears flowing from their eyes and said- “I can never forget this favour of yours for my lifetime, Sir. I’ll build a temple in your name.” No, they actually dint say that. They just said- “ Thank You Sir. It was a pleasure meeting you. And yeah! Thanks for the social service.”
My age was 86. I was known for social service.
On a hospital bed. Breathing heavily. Lost into thoughts.
After all the ups and downs in life I went back to my native village to spend the rest of my life. My son was one useless human being. One thing he dint do is- kick me out of his house mainly because I came out before he would do it. So, here in my village, the news had spread that I had written a ‘will’ which says- all my property and the fields would go to the farmers of my locality after I die. Every morning, when I sat outside my small house reading a newspaper, I used to be greeted by the farmers passing by with– “Good Morning babuji.” But it sounded more like- “When will you die babuji?”
I also had read somewhere that- “When you've told someone that you've left them a legacy the only decent thing to do is to die at once.”
So here I was, lying in a hospital bed as weak as a dog’s tail and coughing away long and hard. With every minute my breath became shorter, my coughs became louder. Suddenly, I felt the air rushing out of me, I coughed loudly and forcefully and that was my last breath.
Now here I am, dead in the coffin. A farmer came by, spread a garland on my body, came close and cried softly- “ Though you died so late, you left us all with a future and happiness. Thank you babuji.” Though he sounded real, I would have slapped him if I was alive. He continued- “ We farmers will always remember your social service.”
So, my next destination is Heaven, of course. Looking forward for some social service there.
(Now, I hope you don’t have hearts made of stones. So, don’t abuse me for this totally senseless piece of crap. That way, you too would be a social servant ;) )
Class 9, section ‘A’, 3:30 pm, History class. What fed our ears were- occasional snores, whispered gossips and somewhere in the background the voice of our teacher who was somewhere in a battlefield in or around the 1900’s. Sitting next to me on my left was the school captain. He was staring at his pen with his chin on the bench since more than ten minutes now. I whispered to him- “What did you have for lunch?” Dint get a reply. I bent forward to look at his face. To my astonishment he was sleeping and that too with half an eye open, like a devil. I realised history was better, so opened my ears for some history lessons. Only then I realized that ma’am was actually dictating notes. So, bad luck. I then, looked to the guy on my right, Roshan. He was smiling but sleeping. Weird guy, really. I imagined a bash on his silly face. It felt nice. Then, I scanned around my surrounding benches only to find a few more of such sleeping Einsteins and a few irksome faces giving me a stare as if they saw my face after 500 years. I couldn’t sleep while the sun was out, that was my main problem. Also, I felt bad for the teacher. But mainly, I was known as the guy who had a golden heart.
I took a deep breath, bashed on Roshan’s smiling, sleeping face and immediately stood up and said loud- “ Ma’am I have a doubt.” Roshan looked clueless.
This move was like pouring ice-cold water on sleeping people. Everyone woke up in astonishment. “WTF? Arjun has a doubt?” was the line doing the rounds. A few pinched on my back. “He doubted history? Oh my god!” were also making rounds. Ma’am was almost about to shed tears of joy, but controlled herself and asked- “What’s that doubt, my boy?”
There were [(61*2)+2] eyeballs gaping at me. I looked at my watch, it was about 10seconds for the bell. On the other hand I dint want to disappoint my fans (classmates).
While everyone wondered what could be that mystery behind history that I was about to ask, I looked at ma’am, smiled and asked- “ When is Sports day?” Trrnnggggg.. The bell rang. There was a huge roar in the class and everyone laughed with words like- jackass, stupid, dumbo,…etc emanating from here and there. Ma’am was staring at me with a weird expression as if she had just spotted the joker in a circus and finally said in disgust- “ What stupid bunch of guys these are!” and left the class. Poor lady, she would say nothing worse.
Everyone packed their bags, and while leaving they all said to me- “ Thanks macha, for waking us up. Thanks for the social service.” I thought of giving them flowers but just said- “ That’s my pleasure. Now get lost.”
My age was 40. I was known for social service.
4pm. Me, my mom and my wife. A saree showroom.
For the first time in my life, I was reminded of the fact that I too was just a normal human being and I too make mistakes. I mean, I just couldn’t believe that I was there for saree shopping with two women. I was sitting in the waiting hall since two hours now, while the dangerous duo of ‘daughter-in-law and mother-in-law’ were selecting sarees to purchase. There were two more middle-class gentlemen to my left who also wore expressions of helplessness, waiting for their wives I suppose. I dint know them personally, but we had similar problems at this point of time. That meant we could be friends with just as much as a snap of the finger. Anyway, I stood up and asked them- “ Shall we go have a cup of coffee?” They looked at me as if I said- “ You are released from Central Jail.” We introduced ourselves and left for coffee. We had a nice cup of coffee and a plate of samosas and I paid for it. By the time we strolled back to the showroom, we were like friends forever. The guy at the billing counter was watching the cricket match in his small little portable TV. I requested him to turn his TV slightly towards us and he did so without a word. I bought three cups of flavoured ‘American Corn’ and we all ate while we watched the match. Just as we thought we were enjoying this, my lady parade arrived after purchasing 3 sarees. I said to the gentlemen- “It was nice meeting you, but I’m happy to say I’m the luckiest. I’m the first one to leave” and smiled. They fell to my feet and with tears flowing from their eyes and said- “I can never forget this favour of yours for my lifetime, Sir. I’ll build a temple in your name.” No, they actually dint say that. They just said- “ Thank You Sir. It was a pleasure meeting you. And yeah! Thanks for the social service.”
My age was 86. I was known for social service.
On a hospital bed. Breathing heavily. Lost into thoughts.
After all the ups and downs in life I went back to my native village to spend the rest of my life. My son was one useless human being. One thing he dint do is- kick me out of his house mainly because I came out before he would do it. So, here in my village, the news had spread that I had written a ‘will’ which says- all my property and the fields would go to the farmers of my locality after I die. Every morning, when I sat outside my small house reading a newspaper, I used to be greeted by the farmers passing by with– “Good Morning babuji.” But it sounded more like- “When will you die babuji?”
I also had read somewhere that- “When you've told someone that you've left them a legacy the only decent thing to do is to die at once.”
So here I was, lying in a hospital bed as weak as a dog’s tail and coughing away long and hard. With every minute my breath became shorter, my coughs became louder. Suddenly, I felt the air rushing out of me, I coughed loudly and forcefully and that was my last breath.
Now here I am, dead in the coffin. A farmer came by, spread a garland on my body, came close and cried softly- “ Though you died so late, you left us all with a future and happiness. Thank you babuji.” Though he sounded real, I would have slapped him if I was alive. He continued- “ We farmers will always remember your social service.”
So, my next destination is Heaven, of course. Looking forward for some social service there.
(Now, I hope you don’t have hearts made of stones. So, don’t abuse me for this totally senseless piece of crap. That way, you too would be a social servant ;) )
10 seconds later......
“I love rain” I screamed and looked up at the rain and the sky, releasing my hands from the brake.
10 seconds later…..
I saw myself sleeping on the road as if using the pavement as a pillow. A few metres away, the motorbike was sleeping with oil leaking out. Behind it was my friend Roshan, the poor soul who was seated behind me. He too laid flat on his tummy with his hands stretched. It looked as if he was taking blessings from the road divider. We discovered that we were lucky enough to be spared with just minor bruises here and there.
Maintaining my posture, I shouted loudly- “ I love rain.”
He greeted me with stones and said- “ You and your stupid rain.”
“Sorry, the bike slipped and I couldn’t control.”
“Did you bribe to get your driving license?”
“Who said I have one?” I replied with a smile.
Anyway, before any trucks could run over us, we got up, lifted, started the bike and left. On his orders, I slipped to the back seat. It was me who had insisted on this ‘outing-when-it’s-raining’ concept. Hence I was the abuse receiver. Anyway, we continued. The ride was silent for a while.
I was loosing patience, so asked- “ Where are we heading to? Coffee Day right?”
“We would have been traveling to hell if a truck or something was behind us when we fell.” He corrected “sorry, when you made us fall.” He looked restless and said- “ We are heading straight to home where you will order for pizzas.”
“ Anything if you are paying.”
“I’m not paying. Who the hell needed this ride when it’s raining? It’s such a pain in the ass to ride on wet roads. You are paying. I hate rain.”
“Are you from Mars?”
I never get replies for such queries. Anyway, we rode along with silence. I felt like I was dancing. I mean, the way he rides the bike is above atrocious. If this guy had a driving license, what else could be more insulting for mother India?
Anyway,I was getting bored. To my left I saw a temple and asked him – “ Shall we go meet the god?”
“Shut up. One more word, and you will be on your journey to meet god in person.”
I found that line funny- Meet god in person..!! In a weird way, I actually feel much closer to god when he’s riding than when I go to a temple. I basically resemble Gandhi-ji and I follow - "No violence. Only Silence.”, so dint tell him about my feelings.
After 15 minutes, we almost reached home, and he was turning the bike into the street in Rajnikanth style.
And I shouted- “Hey.. Hey...Look out you, ass....”
10 seconds later………….
I found myself sleeping on the road with the pavement as my pillow. A few metres away, the bike was sleeping with the remaining oil leaking out. And Roshan was again taking blessings from the road divider.
Totally Jammed.......!!!
I discovered a game of ‘car-race’ on my phone, I listened to some stupid radio station, I ate peanuts and I almost pulled off my hair, all while I was sitting alone in the driver’s seat of my car stuck in a mega traffic jam. I could only see an ocean of vehicles all around me. The traffic wasn’t moving a bit. It had been an hour now and I deduced that it was not a regular traffic jam. Meanwhile all the roadside sellers got busy selling peanuts, cucumbers and water packets. I called the ‘peanut-guy’ and asked – “What’s this traffic jam about?”
He said – “ Don’t you read the newspaper?” I usually give one chance before I bash up someone when they ask questions like that.
I said –“ I’m very poor. I don’t have money to buy a newspaper. Can you please tell me?”
He looked at me weirdly and said- “ There is a JD-S ( a political party here in Karnataka) rally going on. It might take at least another two hours to clear.”
“ How far ahead is the traffic blocked?”
“Around 5 kms” he said and asked if I wanted some peanuts.
“Yes” I said and gave him five bucks.
“You said you are poor and you don’t have money?” he asked. I dint slap him, I just smiled.
Okay, now it made sense. There were two big posters on both sides of the road in front of me with those party leaders all smiling along with a caption- “Sons of the soil.” I dint have any stones with me, so I dint pelt any on them. I then grabbed my phone out so that I could make a few calls to my jobless friends and pass time. Jeezzzz…. The network was jammed. Since I had switched off my car, I opened all the windows for some air. The guy in a car to the left of mine called out to me and asked- “ How do I have to go to reach ‘The Windsor Manor’?”
“ I guess, you’ve got to fly above all these vehicles here.” I said.
He turned to his people accompanying him in his car and would have said something like- “Look at that guy in that car. He’s such a dumb ass.” But he looked back at me with an irritating face and asked- “ After the traffic clears, which way should I go? Tell me properly.”
I’m not a dumb ass, so I replied- “ Same road ahead. About 5 kms from here.”
“Thank You” he said, which sounded like ‘Get Lost’.
On my right was a ‘Ford’ with a cool looking aunty sitting over the side closer to me. We both looked at each other and exchanged sad smiles. She relocated her sunglasses to her forehead and said- “ These politicians na, they are such idiots. Irresponsible idiots. See their posters, they are a shame and they say they are the ‘sons of the soil’.”
“Shall we send them back into the soil, aunty?”
“Haha. But, really they are senseless.”
“Yeah. They are our so-called ‘leaders’ and their sons (who are local rowdies) are our future leaders. You and I would only die of BP arguing about all this, but it makes no difference.”
Aunty liked me. She smiled and said- “ Yeah. That’s true. So since how long have you been a resident of Bangalore?”
“I was born here, aunty. I’m the ‘Son of the soil’.”
“haha. Good one.”
Anyway, then I got out of the car, stretched myself. Found a public telephone, called my parents and informed them that I will be late. I then spotted a police guy and thought about sharing the idea of ‘sending the sons of the soil back to the soil’ but then I would be counting rods of the prison door with a few complimentary strokes on my back. So, cleverly I went back to my car, reclined the seats to the extent, closed all the windows to three quarters and slept.
I dreamt of me roaming around in the US. Every time man….. every single time…
About two hours later, in between my dream and reality I heard sounds with 3D effects as if devils were entering. I suddenly woke up to find out that the vehicles behind me were honking and the traffic was moving. I put the car into ignition and started. After an hour and a half I reached my home, for dinner, ate the food, which was prepared as lunch originally and slept again. One heck of a ‘jammy evening’.
Super Raman
The door bell rang at 6 in the morning. I came out of a wonderful dream where in I was riding a bike in Switzerland. I got up and dragged myself to the door to open it. A bell ring was far out of range to wake up my mom and my sister, so I had to open the door. I opened it and it was our car cleaner. He ordered- “ Give the car keys.” I wanted to ask him – “When did u become the owner of my car?” but I spared him and simply passed the keys. He washed the car talking to someone over his cell phone. They spend rs.4000 change on a cell phone when they don’t know how to manage their family for the next meal.
Anyway, I finished my morning activities and went to the gate. He was still cleaning the car wearing an innocent face. He looked at me and said cheerfully- “ What sir? You’ve lost weight..!!”
I checked if anyone had heard that and giggled. No one. I said-“ I’ve stopped eating.”
“Why?” he asked.
“I bought a cell phone. I don’t have any money left.”
Mad fellow, dint understand that and said- “really?”
“ See if you can get me a job.”
“ Come on sir, you must be joking.”
“ Thank God! You have a brain.”
He laughed. He said-“ That movie that I was telling you about last week has now released. Tamil movie. I heard it is super.”
“The movie is super or the movie’s name is super?”
He laughed as if to say- what kind of a dumb ass you are and said-“ Not the name. The movie is super. It’s name is- Billa.”
“Shall we go?”
It's fun sometimes. Away from the expensive multiplexes, silent crowds and all that. 'Watch a mass movie along with the masses'. Sit in an uncomfortable chair, without air conditioning and enjoy the charged atmosphere. I don't mind it once in a while, you see.
“What? You and me?” he asked as if he got an electric shock.
“No. You and my spirit.”
“Ha ha. Sure Sir. We shall go to the Lido theatre.”
“Okay boss.”
“ I’ll come back here in one hour” he said and walked back with a spring in his step.
I entered my home and by now my mom was awake. I told her that I’m going to a movie with ‘Raman’. She asked- “ The car cleaner?”
I said “yes” and quickly walked away to my room. My sister was there and she asked-“ Did your girl friend dump you or what?” and giggled.
I stared at her and said- “ Shut up and go sleep.”
She again giggled and walked away. I got ready. Raman came 5 mins earlier to the fixed time. I got my bike and we started and left. On the way, from behind he asked me over my shoulders-“ Sir, do you have a girl friend?”
“ You know Bipasha Basu?” I asked seriously.
“Yeah. So?”
“I recently broke up with her. I’m seeing my colleague now.” Poor guy dint know I was full of bullshit.
We reached the theatre and it was one of those old style theatres and there was a long queue for the tickets. I said-“ Go fast and stand in the queue.”
“You don’t worry, Sir” he said and walked straight into the theatre’s office room. Meanwhile I parked my bike, returned and stood near the entrance. After a while he came and I ordered him- “ Go fast. Stand in the queue.”
He drew out two tickets from his pocket and showed it to me and said- “ I know the ticket counter guy here.”
I looked at him and wanted to say something witty but refrained. We entered the theatre and he started laughing out loud all of a sudden.
“Now, what happened?” I asked.
“ You broke up with Bipasha Basu??? Hahahaha… Nice joke.”
Oh my god. I should have simply stayed at home.
The movie began and then came the moment where the Hero of the movie arrives and all the other heroes in the theatre whistles. I too put my fingers under my tongue and blew a loud whistle. Raman looked at me in astonishment just like a proud father would look at his son and said –“ Super sir. Super.”
I winked.
After the movie we went to a restaurant. He ate as much as I could have in two days. Of course he knew I was going to pay the bill. Over lunch he asked- “ How was the movie, Sir?”
“Super” I said in his language trying to please him.It wasn’t bad actually. Though I don’t understand tamil much, I know that much that their movies are technically very sound. In fact, far better than bollywood. I conveyed that to Raman and he became blissful as if he had directed that movie or something.
Anyway, after a day of very different kind of fun (for me) we reached home. Just as he was about to leave, he asked-“ Sir, can you lend me rs.1000? I need it, Sir. You can deduct it from my salary.”
I’m a wonderful human being, just if you dint know. More so, I was in good mood. So I counted out the amount and passed it to him.
Now after a month, I realize that that was the last time I met him. He never turned up to work after that. I pictured him spilling all that money in a bar or on a new cell phone. Now, my mom gives me lessons on crap like not to get carried away and so on. My sister keeps pestering me with queries like - “ Remember if you had given rs.1000 to your ex-girl friend by any chance?? Just askin man…She too never came back...” ( I had spent more than 1000 bucks on that bitch. That’s a different matter)
Anyway, I still keep saying- “ I’m a wonderful human being. I helped a poor guy.”On hearing this, one of my friend broke his jaw when he fell down from his chair laughing at me.
Mamma Mia ... !!
One boring Sunday evening, with 'Monday blues' already encroached into our minds, me and my friend decided to head off someplace with our destination undecided. You might wonder, how jobless people we were. I tell you, this is fun sometimes. Only sometimes. I gave the honour of riding the bike to my friend. For the first time in his history and my life, the speedometer never crossed 30km/hr over a ride of about 30mins. I imagined - if I was a celebrity, this one would have made it into the headlines of few crappy news channels in India. Something like -"Arjun was spotted in a bike moving not more than 30kms/hr. What could be the reason? please sms your opinions to this number. We have our correspondent live from Bangalore to give more details about this shocking revealation." I was dreaming. I was loving it.
We were heading towards the heart of the city. Sunday evening, no traffic at all. Heaven. He still never crossed the 30 km/hr mark. I got anxious, so shouted loud at him against other sounds of the surroundings - " Are you awake??" Din't get a reply. With a louder voice, I shouted again - "Are you alive??"
"Yes of course you asshole. You would have been sorting out issues in hell if I were asleep." he said politely.
I shouted back - " You are in good mood."
"Lucky for you."
" Thank You."
We passed through Cubbon Park which now, in the dark looked like a jungle. Then came this huge 16 storeyed building, a mall, and an office complex. It's called the UB City. UB is Vijay Mallya's . That meant - High Class. It also meant - Very decently dressed girls in red. Think about that. We can have a debate sometime.
I said - "Stop. Lets checkout this place."
He was awake and hence stopped. The mall was about only 80% complete. Hence there had not been publicity about it, so that meant less people. Something that I can pay for, being in B'lore. We entered in. An F1 model car was at the entrance. My dosth observed it for half an hour. I was passing time, looking out for girls in red. I wan't to meet Vijay Mallya someday. Okay, by the looks of this mall, it was High Class to the high-class. We were only dreaming to be High Class. I mean we were students. Not even our grades were high class.
Anyway, we went window shopping. I swear I hadn't even heard of those names. The outlets, I mean. As a fact we weren't dressed up aptly. Who knew we would end up here . In one of those outlets, we could find some civilization. Attractive, foreign homo-sapiens that too. He said, "I need to buy a pair of shoes for myself. Come on lets have a look. " I thought that was a joke but then we entered the stall, the doors of which were opened by a guy with a wide smile on his face. I thought, I should write to Mallya about this.To replace that guy by a girl. He went straight to the shoe section and enquired a pretty stall girl (of course) about what his shoe size would be. I've never seen a person who could spend half an hour sorting out 'shoe size' matters. He tried out a few of them as well. Poor girl, she must have been thinking that we had rich fathers who gave us credit cards or debit cards.
Anyway, this guy finally came to a conclusion. His size was 9. "Shall I show you few more different varieties, Sir?" She enquired. He asked her - " What's the price of this?"
"It's Rs. 9,700, Sir." she replied. Mamma Mia
He came to me and opened his wallet- There was Rs 40 and some dirt in it. He digged out my wallet from my pocket and discovered Rs.50. Arrogant guy. Anyway, we had a magic figure of Rs.90. He turned back to the girl and said the most stupid thing I've ever heard. He said - "Haha. No . Just that, my Birthday is coming up, so hinting my friend about my shoe size."
She replied - " My boss had hinted me about people like you."
I said to my mind - Mamma Mia
A Rendezvous (Out) Of Sorts ...
(After two emotional posts , another fiction, on a lighter side this time. )
Scene – Feb 14th , I am driving to my friend’s place and I’m already late by half an hour . My cell phone ringing , it was him ----
Me – “Hello ! ”
Him – “You still in the car ? ”
Me – “No, I’m running alongside it . ”
Him – “You must have reached here by now . I’m waiting . Where are you ? ”
Me – “On the way ”
Him – “Okay , where exactly are you ? ”
Me – “ In the car ”
Him – “ Okay , where’s the fuckin’ car ? ”
Me – “Street 29 . 2 mins ”
We hung up . I reached his home , found him and shook hands .
Me – “ Happy Valentines’ Day ..”
Him – “Happy Independence Day. You are single right? ”
Me – “Yup.Where’s your valentine ? ”
Him – “ With her valentine . I’m ‘ex’ now . ”
Me – “ Oh , where’s the party ? ”
Him – “You teasing me?? ”
Me – “ No , I don’t tease ‘betrayed bachelors’ u see . I only pity them . ”
Him – “ Shut Up ”
Me – “ Okay , what’s the reason you insisted me in coming here ?”
Him – “ Just a casual meeting over a cup of coffee ”
Me – “ It sounds like – Do me a favour and I’ll treat with you with coffee. ”
Him – “You are smart ”
Me – “ Well , I’m here to meet you , am I still smart ? ”
Him – “ Over Smart ”
Me – “ What can I do for you ? ”
Him – “ Dude , I flunked in 2 subjects . My mom literally blew steam into my ears whole night last night. ”
I was about to laugh out loud but for a gentleman I was , I din’t .
Me – “ So you aren’t joining us for the weekend picnic ? ”
Him – “ I want to, but you should convince my mom . ”
Me – “ No way . She is terror man, terror . How can I forget that day when she blew fire (not steam) when I wore a low waist jeans and stupidly gestured – ‘ It’s Fashion ’. I’m only glad that she din’t cane me .
Him – “Hey come on , please . One last favour for me , please .”
Me – “The fourth ‘last favour’. Okay , I shall try . ”
Him – “ One more thing ”
Me – “ Dangerous thing . What’s that ? ”
Him – “ I lied to her that you’ve flunked in 3 subjects. ”
Me – “ Dude , you are shit . Any other lie about me ? ”
Him – “Sorry . No . ”
We went in to meet her . There was something foreboding about this whole thing . Meanwhile , she was blasting at her cook . I heard her shout – “ Why is there less sweet in the sweet ? ” . Whatever that is . Finally , we entered the dragon , she saw me & we greeted each other .
His Mom – “ Looks like a ‘Failed Students’ conference . Can I know what is the agenda ? ”
Me – “ Nothing like that aunty . We are planning to go to Goa this weekend . Came for your permission . ”
His Mom – “ Oh , I thought he told me it’s to tirupathi ”
Oh shit . I was lost for bad words for my dear friend .
Me – “ Oh ya , Tirupathi ”
His Mom – “ Seems like your rehearsals din’t go right . I don’t like you people lying at me . ”
Me – “ Sorry aunty ”
His Mom – “ Okay , I’ll ask you one question . You answer me right now & I’ll consider about the permission . ”
After a minute’s pause
Me – “ Okay , go on. ”
His Mom – “ Where was my son last evening ? ”
Oh God , a liar what he was , I din’t have an idea as to what he had told his mother . I looked at his silly face wanting to kill him. I deduced that telling her “ I don’t know ” would be a safe bet .
Me – “ I don’t know aunty”
His Mom – “He said he was at your place for combined study and you yourself didn’t know about that. That’s Great . ” She continued “ No picnic , nothing . Liars . ”
Totally pissed off at his sillyness, his mother’s ‘adding insult to injury’ programme and my stupidness to go there in the first place , I drove back home .
Scene – Feb 14th , I am driving to my friend’s place and I’m already late by half an hour . My cell phone ringing , it was him ----
Me – “Hello ! ”
Him – “You still in the car ? ”
Me – “No, I’m running alongside it . ”
Him – “You must have reached here by now . I’m waiting . Where are you ? ”
Me – “On the way ”
Him – “Okay , where exactly are you ? ”
Me – “ In the car ”
Him – “ Okay , where’s the fuckin’ car ? ”
Me – “Street 29 . 2 mins ”
We hung up . I reached his home , found him and shook hands .
Me – “ Happy Valentines’ Day ..”
Him – “Happy Independence Day. You are single right? ”
Me – “Yup.Where’s your valentine ? ”
Him – “ With her valentine . I’m ‘ex’ now . ”
Me – “ Oh , where’s the party ? ”
Him – “You teasing me?? ”
Me – “ No , I don’t tease ‘betrayed bachelors’ u see . I only pity them . ”
Him – “ Shut Up ”
Me – “ Okay , what’s the reason you insisted me in coming here ?”
Him – “ Just a casual meeting over a cup of coffee ”
Me – “ It sounds like – Do me a favour and I’ll treat with you with coffee. ”
Him – “You are smart ”
Me – “ Well , I’m here to meet you , am I still smart ? ”
Him – “ Over Smart ”
Me – “ What can I do for you ? ”
Him – “ Dude , I flunked in 2 subjects . My mom literally blew steam into my ears whole night last night. ”
I was about to laugh out loud but for a gentleman I was , I din’t .
Me – “ So you aren’t joining us for the weekend picnic ? ”
Him – “ I want to, but you should convince my mom . ”
Me – “ No way . She is terror man, terror . How can I forget that day when she blew fire (not steam) when I wore a low waist jeans and stupidly gestured – ‘ It’s Fashion ’. I’m only glad that she din’t cane me .
Him – “Hey come on , please . One last favour for me , please .”
Me – “The fourth ‘last favour’. Okay , I shall try . ”
Him – “ One more thing ”
Me – “ Dangerous thing . What’s that ? ”
Him – “ I lied to her that you’ve flunked in 3 subjects. ”
Me – “ Dude , you are shit . Any other lie about me ? ”
Him – “Sorry . No . ”
We went in to meet her . There was something foreboding about this whole thing . Meanwhile , she was blasting at her cook . I heard her shout – “ Why is there less sweet in the sweet ? ” . Whatever that is . Finally , we entered the dragon , she saw me & we greeted each other .
His Mom – “ Looks like a ‘Failed Students’ conference . Can I know what is the agenda ? ”
Me – “ Nothing like that aunty . We are planning to go to Goa this weekend . Came for your permission . ”
His Mom – “ Oh , I thought he told me it’s to tirupathi ”
Oh shit . I was lost for bad words for my dear friend .
Me – “ Oh ya , Tirupathi ”
His Mom – “ Seems like your rehearsals din’t go right . I don’t like you people lying at me . ”
Me – “ Sorry aunty ”
His Mom – “ Okay , I’ll ask you one question . You answer me right now & I’ll consider about the permission . ”
After a minute’s pause
Me – “ Okay , go on. ”
His Mom – “ Where was my son last evening ? ”
Oh God , a liar what he was , I din’t have an idea as to what he had told his mother . I looked at his silly face wanting to kill him. I deduced that telling her “ I don’t know ” would be a safe bet .
Me – “ I don’t know aunty”
His Mom – “He said he was at your place for combined study and you yourself didn’t know about that. That’s Great . ” She continued “ No picnic , nothing . Liars . ”
Totally pissed off at his sillyness, his mother’s ‘adding insult to injury’ programme and my stupidness to go there in the first place , I drove back home .
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