A stITCHING Memory!

I was talking about this incident to Ebie yesterday.

Till 8th standard we had to learn stitching as a part of our school curriculum at my High School in Edamon.

The stitching teacher came with a beautiful kerchief she had stitched, and wanted us to re-iterate the same. I did not like the period overall but half-heartedly I had to do this assignment.

Keeping the cloth on my lap, I took long time to stitch as half as my exceptional buddies did, and at the end, it was more than a fun.

I tried to raise the cloth and show my work to the teacher. Bad, it was also raising my shirt! Oh Sad, I realized with a senseless smile that all these time, I was stitching on my shirt that fell on my lap while sitting.

The 'rewinding' kept me busy for another period.

Mother-in-Love!

Agnes Femin wants her son to cry. Every time. Not just cry, he should cry aloud. He should not only just cry sometimes, but also skew his face in a particular way, with eyes reduced and lips glued on one another so that it should show him up in the pinnacle of some agony.

By now, you must have assumed a mad mistress of early forties, hating her son for no reasons and keeps on pestering him. But you go wrong as the curtain raises and I introduce a new character in this LIFE of mine, who is none other than our cute little babe Aggy!

Agnes Femin is her formal brand name! She is my niece, my wife's brother's daughter, of almost thirty months age.

Aggy is the only daughter of her parents and the apple of everyone's eyes. But some time back, she was on the lookout for somebody, whom she can love. Love like the way she is being loved; a baby in her hands. Her parents gave her many dolls. She tried acting like a mom to them, but they did not respond ultimately. And that's when I came into her life.

Don't know whether she has assessed me as a child, somehow, on a fine day, she has adopted me as her baby without my knowledge. She would call me "Unni" with a cute sweet-coated mother's tongue. No hassles, I have started helping her with nice baby-cries and instant-insistences and other symptoms every child shows. But she was more demanding; she wanted my cries to be louder so that she shouldn't feel like deserting her child and leave for office! She wanted me not to eat with my hands, so that she could rightfully feed her child, (in a thousand spoons). She wanted me to sleep on her lap, so that her baby would feel most comfortable.

That was where we started.

One day, I did not show up for the act. It was Eby's (my wife, synonym; Shelby, Steffy & more.) turn. She had played her tactics on Aggy so that it came out to be great fun. As her 'mother' approached her with her 'demands' Eby used the chance so grandly. She asked this restless mother to do that and this and those and these, and Aggy had to really run around to keep her ‘child’ entertained! Finally Aggy said, "Stop! Now you be the mother, and I will be your Unni"

Fun of all times!

Enragement at Engagement!

There was this fun happened at my brother, Vinod’s engagement. And as you would know me already, needless to say, the cause was mine.

The custom stated that we, the groom’s party, should arrive first at the church and then await the bride entering. We stood by that and came punctually to the famous Parepalli church in Changanacherry, where the bride belongs to.

It was showery and somebody told that the bride’s party would arrive late. My parents took this opportunity to greet all our guests in person, and soon they vanished in the crowd. The groom, my brother kept waiting in the car, looking at the mirror, confirming and re-confirming his looks.

I happened to see the bride, Jaimol entering the premises. As I couldn't find my parents with my naked eyes, I alone hurried to greet them at the gate and welcome them to the church.

My blazer misguided the photographers as it was not so familiar that someone wears a blazer for such occasions, unless he or she is the groom or bride. Even before Jaimol could see me, one of the photographers pulled me from the side and kept me close to my brother's fiancé while the other took one snap. I sniffed the danger and tried to leap behind. The moment Jaimol looked at me she screamed, “No!!! This is not my fiancé, this is his brother!”

I nodded.

Somebody rushed to the Car and then got the boy and solved the scene.

I've advised my brother not to wear a blazer for my engagement, which happened the following week.

My Elder Sister! – (with due apologies)

Hope that you are not in a bad mood! I mean, I was just asking how you are.. No, Oh! God, nothing, please don’t look like that, it’s killing me.

Cool a lot down, and I’ll tell you this; I met this girl, Ebie. Yeah, I mean I met her before getting engaged to her… and and and way before marrying her… hey I’m telling you, yeah, You!

Long time, said nothing, and on a fine morning like this, when I alight here like a Sinosauropteryx in front of you and saying that I got married, don’t you have any feels? You died my blog? Okay, you just hide, but not died, I believe.

Let me stop pretending that I’m apologizing. I actually am apologizing for not keeping track, but let me tell you, I have been thoroughly occupied with my pre and post-marital miracles.

Listen to me, I will ward off your scuffle with a narration of what happened last Sunday.

My second week in church after marriage, and my forth of fifth week altogether. You can assume, how well I would be known in the church and how my matters would matter to them within such a short time. Very few people knew me personally, and some remembered only my face.

After the church, seeing my wife standing beside me, one uncle asked, ‘Is she your sister’? Huh, he did not know that I got married. He had seen me before in the church, but not with a girl beside me. I did tell him what had happened to me 

Ebie started to laugh all the way, rewinding the same question, and saying, Oh peace, at least I don’t look like one married woman..’ I stopped walking.. and asked ‘what?’

‘Yeah, that’s what’! She replied.

‘No, I don’t think so, he actually would have meant whether you were my elder sister, still not married and begot kids, but not staying with your husband and still bothering your younger brother!!”

Poor Ebie, her face was shining like that of a devil in no-moon night!!

Head Thandoori

Yeah, I have had enough of it; Head Thandoori. And now decided not to have it till this climate cools down. That's why I kept my bike at home and vowed not to put the helmet on my head. Under the hot sun, facing the traffic signals and moving 'inch-by-inch' in the ruthless traffic blocks in my city, I have been receiving a tandoori smell around my helmet! I was being cooked.

Carelessness vs Luck!

What could be the height of carelessness? Is it something like throwing out the garbage along with your house-keys? What is the height of luck? Is it something like keeping the door unlocked while gone to throw the garbage?

Say Cheese!!

What do you think I have done today? If you think that I had a quiet April Fool's day, then you are wrong!!

I just clicked photos of all my friends with my Camera-less phone!! Now they want me to send those, nicely-posed, group-photoed, giggle-bubbled, horn-played poses of theirs to them!!

You know what I'm going to do? I'll send them some animal group photos!

Matri-Money!

A friend of mine (name not to be disclosed), who has been trying to get married since the day he became 26 years old, has come up with a new exciting campaign for his matrimonial search-and-find.

His profile was headlined like this- "GET MARRIED TO ME AND WIN A FREE TRIP TO KERALA."

No, not 3G again.

Sleep Riding

I’m about to apply for a Guinness Record. If I tell you why, you will apply for me too.

Last week some day, I slept for a couple of minutes while riding the bike on highway at a great speed.

Yeah, it’s still the ‘living’ me, who is writing this, but shocked to read today’s news that all the members in a family killed in a mishap on the same highway, as their driver had fallen asleep while driving.

The Guinness record will read - The First person to sleep and ride the bike, ever.

See you here again :)

Shanku’s Funeral Crasher!

The procession carrying the man’s dead body was reaching the public crematorium. Like the sun that was setting at the horizon, the procession looked dull and grieved. The Crematorium was nearing and as its sight appeared, the laments aggrandized.

The crematorium was situated close to an areca nut (adaykka- in Malayalam and Tamil) farm. Hundreds of lean and straight (the F-TV types) Areca nut trees stood in the farm, waving in the winds and French-kissing the sky (on its lovely lips, the clouds).

The procession stopped in front of the crematory and it was time for the final rites. The lead cleric had uttered the final prayers and then a relative of the dead man had lifted fire on the crematory. As seconds passed by, as the fire grew by, as the laments amplified to the maximum, the 'unthinkable happened'.

Like lightning, sparkles of fire came down from the nearby areca nut tree and the dead man stood up alive! The lamenting mouths and the gloomy faces at once thrown open aghast and then cried aloud for life. In a jiffy, all of them vanished from the scene!

Heard that someone from the fleeing squad had turned back while running and then stopped for being fooled. Because it was the Areca nut farmer Shanku, who came down from the ‘heaven’ and not the dead man. Shanku was on top of the Areca nut tree close to the crematory. As the fire blown up, the dried leaves of a black pepper plant which was growing on the tree too caught fire. The fire went up spirally to the unexpected tribulation of Shanku, who at once lost his grip and plummeted, strewing fire all over and finally landing on the edge of the crematory.

Shanku must have received a funeral attention from all.

The Cry Man!!

My parents say I never used to cry when I was a baby. I used to amaze them with smile, by holding up to my name, even when falling down and hurting myself so badly. Yes, I even remember an instance when a Doctor, who was stitching a cut on my hand, without using anesthesia or any other pain-freezing options, asking me 'aren’t you a child, don't you feel like crying?'

Today I've changed. I cry like a child. Would you call it growing down?

I have noticed this change last year, when I met my younger brother after long time, and when both of us had a toast. I just looked into his eyes and he was doing the same. I cried and hugged him like a mad man and he cried too. We cried together for a long time. Ahoe!, We weren't alone there. A Whole group of friends who was watching this started to cry. :)

Last time I cried was when Nishitha told me that she never liked me. I cried like a new-born. I cried a complete night without letting anyone know much. I did not know why I felt so bad. May be because I loved her so much! May be because I could not believe someone disliking me! May be coz I felt like cheated. All my thoughts for her came into me at once and I felt like dying in my tears. The fun was that I met her only once in my life and the rest of our relationship was only through chatting! :)

Sometime back I literally cried when a man had returned my lost mobile phone that I never expected to get back. I thanked him in tears that he jocularly said 'I shouldn't have returned this phone'! He meant he did not want me to cry. :)

Today I can cry for anything. Every time I pray, I cry in secret. I cry for all my happiness. I cry for all my sadness. I cry for all who love me and hate me.

Someday someone was saying, you are an eccentric, too nimble with emotions but too bad at managing it! Is that right?

How Did Sreeji Regain His Paradise?

Sreeji, (Our old Blunderman) has learned the tricks to survive in due time. I have got the latest proof for the same. Though a bit stinky, I thought it would be great fun to tell you about that and moreover a great relief to his sunken image in his world. After all, it’s a brainy act, so what if a bit stinky, right?

It was an urgent call from the stomach that led Sreeji to the lavatory in his office. He swears by all Gods that he never reaches to such a state usually, as he always comes clean stomached from home. But this day was really bad in that sense.

In an eye blink’s time, the stunt was over and he felt light and relieved. But life wasn’t that easy. ‘No water’ to complete the formalities!! Though he squeezed the tap to their utmost limit, not even a single drop did appear. He felt like the most ‘shitty’ and ‘shabby’ ever in his life.

For his luck, there were some napkins left in his pocket.

Once he solved the puzzle and came out of the ‘labor room’, what he did made all the twist in the story. He called up the house-keeping guy and scolded him for keeping the toilet so ‘unclean’!! ‘I couldn’t even step in’, he argued. He went on and demanded a check on who goes without properly cleaning the lavatory after the ‘anal impaction’

Sreeji’s ratings have now flown up.

While writing this, what was coming into my mind was another second degree joke, which was highly prevalent during our school days and stirred endless laughter in the young world. It said that one annachi had once used a ‘Poison Ivy’ leaf (‘Chorithanam’ in Malayalam. It is a skin-irritant) in stead of napkins as there was no water nearby. Later he had to jump off the river bridge.

Madhaviyamma

Don’t know whether true or fictitious, but the story of the ‘Madhaviyamma’ could keep on revisiting my memories. I first heard this story when I was studying in my Upper Primary school, of which I would tell you more in another chapter.

This story was told to me and my classmates by our favorite English teacher Biju, addressed as Bijusir. By practice, he used to tell us stories in order to keep all of us attentive and bothered about the class. This one was striking.

Golden ornaments were such a weakness to Madhaviyamma that she wished to get buried along with her ornaments. Belonged to a respectable family of affluent means, her husband and children could not resist to this wish of hers and that was how she got buried with all those golden bangles, chains and other heavy ornaments. She died at the age of 55 due to some heart-related ailment. As per the tradition, she was buried in the nearby cemetery and a mourning family came back home.

The day died like a lamp snuffed out. And the night came, spreading darkness in the cemetery which did not have any lights. In fact, why, who would want to spend time in a cemetery in the night, other than those lifeless bodies which are dumped there! But that wasn’t right at all, as the darkness along with it, brought two thieves to the cemetery. They came sniffing the big loot awaiting them in the graveyard of Madhaviyamma. They had noticed the golden gloss on her corpse.

Silence benumbed the whole setting. They went near the tomb of Madhaviyamma, making sure that no one was spying. Slowly, they removed tomb-lid and peeped in avariciously. The coffin was not seen as covered by earth. With hands, they removed the warm earth and there came the pricey coffin box, gilded by golden drapes. One of them opened the coffin and what they saw was unbelievable. The corpse of Madhaviyamma was lying, with golden ornaments all over the body. Greedily, one of them caught hold of her hand but in the next moment, something unthinkable had happened; Madhaviyamma opened her eyes. She stared at the thieves as if confused. She wasn’t dead. The thieves, who couldn’t understand anything, tried to gesticulate something but failed to convince each other. One after the other, they lost their consciousness and fell alongside Madhaviyamma.

Early next day, someone who came to look over the cemetery, found the ‘dead’ Madhaviyamma embraced by two young men who were lying asleep on her sides. Heard that, later Madhaviyamma opened her eyes and the story was unfolded. The thieves were released as regards to the vice-turned-virtue.

From the way things happened, this is what I can presume now; Madhaviyamma would have become some Human God beatifying devotees, and the thieves would have become some Panchayat Presidents or MLAs somewhere in Kerala.

A Balloon Blunder

What’s the definition of stupidity? If you have one, wait, listen to me and then you may need to revise your definitions.

It was just incautiousness, which egged me to buy one of those big, blubbery balloons from the window-side seller near Andheri airport. I did not think where, when and how I was sitting and in a moment the deal was done for 25 rupees.

The BEST bus which was carrying me to Kandivli did not have windows as big as the Balloon I was holding outside the bus-window by a thread. The vendor had left from the scene and the bus moved on. Like a tumor on the bus, the balloon beetled outside.

Later at the next bus station, I got outside and took the balloon in with me. People kept on staring at the balloon as if telling it, ‘hold him tightly, he’s got a lot of brains’!

A Snake-gourd Revenge

Long long ago, in a small village called Edamon, when there were no cosmetic revolutions and beauty pageants to come to live in people’s minds, one naughty boy recommended a ground-breaking idea to grow his sisters’ hair long till their buttocks.

It was this - ‘Tie and hang stones on hair and stand in the sunlight’

Not only did he recommend, he even went on and staunchly helped to tie those stones on their hair. Together they stood and looked as if snake-gourds in the village farmyards. (In the farms of Kerala, like exclamation marks, the longish Snake-gourds would lie topsy-turvy and stare at people as if sentenced to be hanged till death. Stones used to be tied on them to grow them lengthy.)

They were later called as 'Snake-gourds. And that naughty boy was my father.

Like tit for tat, today as I see my hair falling one after the other, the same sisters of him have remedies for me. ‘Apply Snake-gourd paste on your hair or try to drink Snake-gourd juice if possible.’

Revenge sustains through generations, what else?

Donnymol

Life can be cruelly funny at some times. It can ridicule. It can tempt us with a warm curvy smile but by the time we smile back, what we see there would be a mere scoff.

It seems that I’m good. Good! Though this realization came to me a bit late, though you would have enough reasons to flout this argument on my face itself, though I don’t promise I’ll be this good forever till doomsday, all of a sudden I have realized last week that I’m too good! In fact Donnymol (name changed) told me. She told me that ‘You were such a good man’.

Why did Donnymol say that I’m that good? Looks like I don’t have answer. I did not transfer any of my bank credits to her name; I did not buy her vegetables from the market or I even did not write an article on her good deeds to the society! The only thing that I did to her was that I liked her. And how did that happen?

It happened uninvited. Like a mistake. Or rather, like every other mistake I do. Like how I catch wrong trains and jump off at wrong stations at wrong times. Like how I came to write the Marketing Management examination on a day when it was supposed to be the Advertising Management examination. Like how I once misplaced a bottle of oil with water and poured it into the boiling milk to make a nice tea. (This is how oil tea is made; justifications need no raison d'être).

However, this mistake was a bit more cavernous, characterized by a deep sense of frustration and uneasiness. Because, Donnymol did not want to get married to me and thus she said ‘You were such a good man’. A nice way to end something like an alliance. A nicely said ‘bye bye’. After all, it sounded like ‘You are such a nice guy so that I don’t want to get married to you!’ Funny isn’t it?

Her uncle wasn’t agreeing it seemed. But he had given her a choice before expressing his disagreement. ‘Would you feel bad if you don’t get him?’ Kin mattered the most to her and she said ‘No, I should not’. A friend of mine said that I should have first proposed to her uncle!

But what’s the big deal in turning down a marriage proposal? After all, it’s just that. A marriage ‘proposal’. She had the right to say ‘No, I don’t like you’ But wait, things were different and that’s what the big deal about it. One day I even told her that I should not speak to her anymore the way I used to do, as we were still not sure of getting married and becoming one. Yet the talk continued. Yet the emotions got created and feelings, babied. The sad love song ‘arikil nee undayirunnengil’ got looped in the background endlessly. Sorrows were trimmed down by sharing and joys multiplied. Love sprouted with a ‘we are almost sure of getting married… so we should speak’ kind of an affair.

Like the way she started talking to me, she stopped talking to me too. Both times, unexpectedly. One idle day, when I was not thinking about anything in particular and not really keen on doing so too, her first call came. She told me that she wanted to know me better as she would like to have herself married to me.

Whatever, if you really want to marry someone, you would stand up and say that you want to. Donnymol did not stand up. May be that she forgot to do so. That’s the big deal I was coming into.

If I would use a simile, I would prefer rains. An untimely rain that got me wet but unclean at the same time.

New Tele-Fun!!

Heh heh!!

What to say, YCYCY Bank seems to be behind me. If you have seen what happened to my previous telecon with one of their telecallers, you wouldn't expect me to write one more post about the same topic this quick.

Everything looked the same like earlier but this time the credit card was launched on the 1st of Jan this year and they could call me in just 3 days of its launch.

Any guess what would be my answer??

"Ohh no... don't want to take it up so early.. let me observe it for a couple of 'years'.. I'll see how it performs and then decide"

Awaiting the next call in 2011. :)

Where are my words?

I don’t know why. I don’t feel the same urge to write like I used to have earlier. The words look like frozen drops and the sentences dizzy. I feel like a fish starving of water and breaths; or a juggler who forgot his charms!

Can I try a comeback?? Will I get my words, sentences, water, breaths and charms back??

Tele-fun

How emotional are tele-sales people? The answer is that they are too emotional. They can cry at the other end of the phone, if you want them to do so. They can sympathize and empathize as well. Something like that happened with me.

The phone kept on ringing so early in the morning and an unknown number that the phone displayed on its delicate screen with illumination and background music claimed its responsibility. When I realized that ignoring a phone call can’t be ignored any further, I picked up the call and made a snake-long ‘hello’ weirdly skewed by a wake-up yawn!

‘Hello Sir, Good Morning! Am I speaking to Mr Santosh?’

‘Yes, you are speaking to me’

‘Sir I’m Pooja, calling from YCYCY bank. Can I speak to you for 2 minutes?’, she told me meekly.

‘See, I have not yet got up from my bed... could you call me up a little later?’

‘But Sir, I’ll take only 2 minutes… and this is to inform you about a new Credit card we have launched in the market’

I did not say anything.

‘Sir, this is a special credit card from our bank. We have launched this product 2 months back and it’s only meant for esteemed customers like you’

‘What did you say?’, I was waiting for an opportunity.

'Sir, this card is only meant for esteemed customers like you’ She repeated the last sentence.

'No.. not that.. I heard something you said about launching the card’ There was a chance for me.

‘Yes sir, that we have launched this card 2 months back’ she said confidently.

‘You said WHEN? ’ I got the curious tone.

‘2 months back, Sir’ she became slightly impatient that that ‘Sir’ was a bit loud.

‘And you are telling me now??’ The plate got turned.

‘What sir? I did not understand’ There was no clue for her.

‘You had launched such a great product, you knew that I was an esteemed customer, and you are telling me after 2 months??’ Melancholy added flavor to my words.

‘You tell me something…. will you go for a wedding for which you are not invited?’ There was no gap for her to talk.

‘No sir.. but..’ She wasn’t getting the issue.

‘Yeah, you won’t… this is something like that… you should have told me earlier!!’

‘Sir.. we are sorry..’

‘No ma’m, I’m utterly disappointed… you have spoiled my mood for the day..’ That was touching.

Sorry sir.. we didn’t intend to hurt you like this…’ Her heart must have melted.

‘Ok.. do one thing, you keep the phone.. let me sleep for some more time… I’ll be alright…’

‘Ok sir.. sorry once again..’ She was very humane.

‘Don’t bother… tell them not to call me again…I’m pissed off with your bank..’ That was really effective.

‘Sure sir… don’t worry, thank you’

‘Ohh thanks’

I couldn’t sleep anymore, as I wanted to tell this to at least one person. That day I had a great laugh.

Sure, someday someone will write a book on how to discourage tele-callers from calling meddling into our lives. Perhaps this one would get a commendable place among the ideas.

If I Don't Tell You My Love!

To propose a girl, you can’t be funny. If she doesn’t like your fun, you are screwed.

But you can be crazy. Here is an example.

Lena told me last day about the latest proposal she has received. A guy, who she knew from long back, holds all the credit to be mentioned here as he has not only proposed to her, but also has set high standards to his male counterparts!

He proposed her on phone. The summary of the conversation is here.

Dear Lena.. I know you from past so many years and you know me too. But do we know each other the way we really wanted to? So I just thought of calling you up. In case if you had any romantic feelings towards me, you can tell me right now! Otherwise tomorrow, if I get engaged with some other girl, you should not feel that I have been ignoring you!

Good way to deal right?

Any way, I really don’t care what happened next as this girl has nothing much to do with me. She would have possibly accepted it as this guy was handsome and from healthy backgrounds!

Tech Tricks!

Dealing with techies is more of diplomacy than technical. If you don’t have the knack, they could probably squeeze your brain to spill out your good moods and all aspirations to survive around them. You will think of the worst possible ways of murdering yourself, licking a power cable (than licking their feet) or jumping off the tallest building with an anvil-stone tied on your neck (than them throwing stones at you) or something more worse your would opt for.

It’s about those software engineers in IT companies that I’m talking about. If you are fated to become a touch-point with the techies in your organization, you would agree with me with your hands up. They have the notorious traditions of behaving badly to their non-techie colleagues when it comes to work. If you say “Yes”, they will say “No”, you say “No” they will certainly say “Yes” for no reasons. This happens mostly in medium-sized organizations, where everyone connects with everyone.

I have experienced this crisis once upon a time while working for a company named Enable Mobile Technologies. Posted between techies and other departments in the organization, I have found red in each and every moment of my professional life. Though they were good friends outside the office, what was domineering was this out-on-your-face behavior, which was sometimes above what I could bear with. Though none of my gimmicks changed them, I did change, from bossy to angry and arrogant to funny!

One day, something they said was very unprofessional though I had no option but to get the work done. I begged for their cooperation, which I had found absent even in then slightest thoughts. They nodded heads with NO written on their face.

I came back to my table, hanged my head down on my hands. I fancied of getting this work done without any hassles. Suddenly one idea struck me. I opened my e-mail and started writing a new mail to my CEO.

“Dear Atul,

You have placed me here not to fail as a Project Coordinator, but to get the work done under any contrasting circumstances.

I have met with failure in getting done my latest project, and I thought I should let you know about this without you asking me about the same.

Absence of cooperation from the tech team has resulted in this unfriendly situation, and I wouldn’t like to name anyone at this time.

I wouldn’t like to work with them anymore and please accept this as my formal resignation letter.

Yours Faithfully,

Santosh G Wilson"

I sent a copy of this mail to the above mentioned guys also. The moment they received this, they got skewed and came up to me.

‘Why did you do this?” One of them asked.

‘I have my prestige.. love it or leave it, that’s what I believe in’ I retorted.

‘But we didn’t tell you we wouldn’t do it.. we were just telling you some technical improbabilities..’ he said in a calming voice.

‘But I sent the mail already’

‘But.. we.., it wasn’t fine man.. you shouldn’t have done this.. Now what will our plight be?’

‘That’s fine guys… You got enough time to do it... Please do it and let’s see if things can go vice-versa.’ I said artfully.

They went back expressively. Later, they sat together with me and drilled down the pros and cons of the project that was stuck. They took every effort to save the project and save our jobs. Ultimately, the project came out successfully.

On the eve of the project launch, I have shared the same e-mail with my tech friends. They did not understand why I was so inclined to the mail once again.

‘This mail got our work done’ I said.

‘Yes, we agree’

‘But our CEO still doesn’t know about this mail!!!’

‘What??’

‘Yes, look at the mail once again.. look at whom did I sent it to..’

‘But... we can see that you sent it to the CEO… then what are you coming into??’

I showed them how I manipulated the email by writing the CEO’s email id in a misspelled manner. Instead of atulzaveri@enablem.com, it was written atulzaveri@enablen.com.

All of us laughed.

Later on, we never had any problems in getting any works done. Together, we marched along! See, you always need a trick to track the techies!

Ghost Meeting!

If you scuff your memories on my older posts, you may reach my ancestral village Edamon once again. You may meet up our old maid named Panikkathi as well.

Panikkathi used to tell us stories of ghosts and fiends. Today I thrust them aside as superstitions and falsehood, though once I lived in the tip of fear listening to her stories. This is one such story of a ghost, whom Panikkathi had encountered during her creditable journeys into the woods.

There was this mountainous woods lying close to my ancestral house, beside the meter gauge railway track that separated the house and connected the Punalur to Sengottai. The woods had given the entire village a dusky overlay. With sky-high trees filled the land, light hardly entered into the woods. Shadows rarely escorted the bodies as darkness ruled the days than light. Life was numb and emotions were stuck in the womb of fear. Every moment there asked for courage.

Panikkathi used to go to the woods alone. With a sickle fixed tightly on to her waist cloth, she would walk into and fade out in the darkness, singing songs for a favorable setting. The dead and grounded leaves would grumble her steps with craggy noises but she wouldn’t bother. Trees would stand still, watching her passing them one by one.

One day, it was late when Panikkathi set out to the woods. The Sun was at the end of its trail and darkness spread sooner than usual.

Panikkathi made her moves quicker. The earlier she could cut the grass, the earlier she could return to her home. She went past the silent woods and cribbing crickets. Owls looked down at her audacity. She kept on walking as she could not find grass enough to cut. At the end she had reached the peak of the mountain. She found lots and lots of grass to cut.

As it was the topmost place, the land looked brighter. As Panikkathi bent to cut the grass, she heard the clanging noise of bangles. She looked around. To her surprise, she found a young girl sitting a few meters away from her. Facing the Sun setting, she was sitting on a rock bed. Clothed in red, she looked blood-stained, and her luxurious hair had flowed down her back. Panikkathi was not sure of approaching her. From behind, Panikkathi made her wavering steps towards the lonely girl. In a hand’s distance, she stopped. Tenderly she asked, “Dear girl, what are you doing here alone?”

The girl looked back at her. The very moment, the hair that covered her back had moved to her side, and what was seen was horrible. She had no skin at the back!! Her bones were visible similar to viewing a skeleton. She had no eyes. Two dark holes were left.

Tenderly she replied to Panikkathi, “Go home... This is not a good place to stay"

Panikkathi did not think twive. She ran back! She ran down the valley like a horse running away from hounds. Somehow she reached home. She was said to be unwell for a week or more. Later she shared her experience with others.

“Could be an unlucky girl cheated by some men…. Thank God, she spared me!!” she was telling me.
Love or fear, from then, she started lighting a special lamp for the young girl's sake.

Belated Joke

Joseph had called yesterday. He wanted to know about Board Painters (Artists)!! I had given him a few clues as where to find them. Later he told me that he had finally passed his MBA and wanted to display JOSEPH MATHEW MBA in front of his house!

Too many jokes nowadays! I forgot to laugh at that time.

Air force Striptease

By the time I reached for the Airforce Officers’ recruitment, the queue had grown like an acromegalic python. Tailing myself to the hundreds-long line, I looked at my Dad, who was standing beside me as my moral cheerleader. “No chance” I tossed my brows, looking at the hundreds arrayed ahead.

It was the zonal level recruitment process for Junior Air force Officers that was going to happen there. People had come from every edge of the state and I was also one of them. Though started early from home, I could make it only at the end of this large queue, which sprouted from the famous Marthoma School that stood on a tiny mount in the heart of the town. The queue looked zigzag from beneath, as if forcibly bent by the road on which it stood: when the road bent right the queue bent right, when the road bent left, the queue also bent left.

As the school ground was opened for the written test, the queue found its way into it. The big ground ate the queue so quickly and the test started off in a short time.

Almost eight hundred candidates had come for the test and the available seats were just 60. Questions on English grammar, general knowledge and more were listed on the question paper and the time was just 30 minutes.

Suspense prevailed in the school premises once the test was over. Some of the guys had already left, as they had performed so miserably in the test and thus there was no hope left for them. Others waited impatiently for the result announcement, which was bound to happen in a short while.

The results came through a loudspeaker announcement. One of the Officers came forward and read the names of victorious candidates. The ones, whose names were announced, went forward and stood near the officer. The result announcement was almost over. Only three or four people left to complete the required seats. I looked outside as to find a way to get out before the whole scene gets over and it becomes difficult to walk out. My Dad was more optimistic and asked me to wait till the last. It was Candidate 59. My hopes were already sunk but I still looked up to see who was going to be the 60th hero of the day.

“The next candidate is….”, I looked around as to see who would raise a hand or shout a “It’s me”.

“ ……..Santosh Wilson”, the announcer paused.

“ Heh! Was that me?” After making sure that there was no other Santosh Wilson, I smiled at my Dad. The officer asked to me to join the Bandwagon and I was supposed to answer him with some details.

“ What is your age?” He asked me looking into my High school certificate.

“16 years sir”

“Ok, Date of Birth?”

“Eleven Four Nineteen Eighty…..I paused, two or three? If you had asked me what was my biggest confusion in life that time, I would never think again to say my date of birth. I had to remember two date-of-births, as in my records the date of birth was entered differently.

“What? “You forgot your date of birth? “ Though he asked the question to me only, it went beyond even the thousands of ears which surrounded me.

Laughter. Kookoooys. I sweated.

“Two sir” I completed.

“You don’t even remember your date of birth. Isn’t by wonder that you have passed this test?”

“Then it is Eleven Four Nineteen Eighty Three sir.. I’m sure” I negotiated like a Mysore street seller.

“Hmm… ok… all of you are selected.. come tomorrow for your Medical Fitness Tests” He winded up the whole drama.

Next day. Medical Fitness test.

The test would take two days. First day the candidates were supposed to undergo medical tests and the next day would be physical fitness rounds.

What followed was tragic. While stepping into the camp room, I never thought even in my wildest dreams that I would have to strip my clothes. Sad part was that I was not alone. The whole gang had been in the room, stripped off already, and watching others stripping. Cool and comfortable, they were sitting there in their best possible poses. They smiled, as they watched my confusion.

‘What have you got in your pants, gold coins?”, they looked at me tellingly. Without any further hesitation, I removed my outfits and joined the underwear party! Some red, some blue, some torn and some grayed, in general, it was a Communion of Underwears.

As time passed, the striptease came out to be more shameful. I told you already that the premise was belonged to a school. As the school time approached, boys and girls had chirped in to the place. They peeped, squeaked and did everything they could do, just to have a glance and a naughty smile.

“Lying Naked
exposed and defenceless,
to the knives and swords
that are words.
Only a thin blanket
of self worth,
to cover my cold and open
heart.”

Our sufferings came in the form of hopeless frowns at each other. The whole day, we found us sitting in the lounge waiting patiently for our turns to go in and get tested. I had noticed that the ones who came out of the room had an ugly expression on their face.

During my turn, I went inside in silence. I had no guess of what was going to happen.

“Come here” One of the doctors told me. I went to him.

“Remove this” He pointed down at me.

“Err.. sir.. this is my last…. I have not worn anything inside this” I tried to educate him of the deadly situation.

“What?”

He did not get me. So he did what I did not do. I stood aghast!

“Good.. Now cough”. He ordered as if holding my remote control on his hands.

I obeyed him like a tamed beast.

“That’ it…. Alright.. go and wait” I was relieved. I couldn’t help having the same ugly expression from clouding my face.

There were few more tests that took two complete days to get over. And one of the last was Feet test. I was told that I had a ‘Pes Caves Foot’. Arched Foot, it meant. It axed my chances.

I wasn’t unhappy. I was still in the striptease mood. All I felt was a getaway in getting out.

Out in the waiting room my Dad was there. I gave him my Report card. He looked at it for once. Then slashed it into maximum pieces possible and flung it in the ground.

Didn’t he say “damn it!”??? Because he never liked failures.



((Poetry- Thanks to Mr David Anthony)

Life after AIDS- A bad story

I was moved. From the height of pride to the bottom of vulnerability. The grime of misfortune stank my senses and spoiled the mood. I cried aloud in mind.

It’s all about a mother. A mother with HIV. A mother of 3 kids. I was watching a TV news program called Kannadi and this plight of a mother stuck me in.

She was gifted with AIDS by her husband, who died a year before: leaving her to fight for life, oh no, not just for her life alone, but also for her 3 blossomed kids. Later, she went to her native village in Kerala with her kids.

Surprise! Nobody discarded them! They were allowed to stay there. Aids means help too, the good men of that village stood by the word!

But one condition; the kids shouldn’t be staying with the mother. The villagers feared that the non-HIV kids too would get affected if they stayed with her. So they split them and put them up in a childcare home, like how we pluck flowers one after the other and throw them all into a basket.

She stood there with a smile that conquered the world watching her. It was a smile of having nothing to hope for. Her smile drilled into the world, which addressed her as a mother! Hey World, you have succeeded in splitting the motherhood and the childhood, but could you ever cut the umbilical cord of love that flooded around you?? You can’t.

It’s not about AIDS. It’s not about a widow’s woeful life. It’s all about the partition. It’s only about the wall built in between a mother and her wingless children. Whatever she is, there is no better justice than letting her stay with her kids!

Moral: Dying is inevitable. Dying of AIDS is just not.

Paissa Hut!!

Making money comes so naturally as an instinct! From lollypopping boys to age-over uncles, every one is by default money-keen. We drink, we breathe and we money-make-think. Making money is a such an obsession for all of us, a fact I came to affirm yesterday.

Long time after posting my last entry, I have been awaiting such a good spark of inspiration.

I saw Pizza Hut guys making money out of their work within their work time. They made money with a simple thought, which I had to appreciate in mind saying Hurray!!

The two guys who go to the same route for home deliveries would meet at a certain junction after delivering the pizza. From that point, one guy would stop his scooter’s engine as the other one would push it with leg. Doing like this a dozen of times a day, they would save a whole lot in their petrol budget and pocket a good deal of money at the end of the day.

What else to say than Hurray!, when these guys are making money not only smartly, but greenly too?

The Three Marketeers!!

Philip Kotler is a well-known marketing guru. After him, I would prefer Mathiyas, Mani and Naseer Bhai. Standing together, they had developed a well-planned marketing technique that spun wonders. Rather than a marketing mantra, this wonderful idea should be addressed as a drama, perfectly enacted to attract attention and create action, and its success could stand atop of all those written and recited Marketing theories to play buffoon of them.

Their world was not as big as you might have believed by chance. Instead, they operated in the premise of a petite bus stand situated in the heart of Pathanamthitta, a small town in Kerala. What they sold was nothing but Idlis. Fresh and homemade.

Pathanamthitta needs an introduction.

It has been the slowest town I have ever been to. In my memories, the town lies like a long snail forgot to move on. In a better contrast, it is like a precious chronograph kept slow, consciously by God. Letting people to stay longer and laud.

Garlanded by mountain buds and silhouetted by trees, the town could impress its strongest seal in anyone’s mind. Hidden behind the posters announcing jewelry inaugurations and futile party congresses, trees and electric posts on roadsides would throw you a smile; like a baby, who felt shy for being found naked. Spotted with people walking, like affected by the nothingness of constant hartals ritually announced, the roads would lead you to eternal jubilation. In fact, they would pilot you like a tourist guide. Protruded into the walkways and public roads, with tempting bust-boards, jewelry shops and silk sari showrooms would invite you, like harlots flying winks to take you in. You would wink back and keep walking. Private buses, named affectionately after their owners' wives and kids, would slap you with wind blown like cyclones, as their silly drivers keep on overtaking each other as though they are in Formula One.

You would be stolen. From you.

Standing some years apart, grating the memories the town gave when I was a young, supple boy, a student of Catholicate College, I have no stop for words. Like a beehive, memory-bees twirl around me, buzzing notes of fun and honeyed hilarity.

The Three Marketeers is half imaginary and half true. A sphinx story. Half-human half-animal type. Hah, a story, which has actually a half story in it!

It was said that initially, three were doing individual idli selling at various points in Pathanamthitta. What united them was severe competition from new idli market entrants, and so they stood together, like old dogs unite to fight the new ones. Like senior players fight the juniors. It was essential.

The marketing gimmick was simple. With the handheld packets of Idlis, Mani would enter a bus, which was parked in the bus stand to start off in a while. For a time, he would look at the passengers with a smile, which would return him some curious frowns back. In a clear-cut, sweet-tongued language he would depict the qualities of the idli he was carrying. ‘Fresh and home made’. ‘Salted and non-sticky’ ‘Chutney made of fried coconut grates’ ‘Only five Rupees per serve’ ‘If don’t like don’t pay’ etc etc.

Nobody would even seem to be interested. All his audience would turn their heads and look for something interesting outside the windows. Except one person; Mathiyas.

Dressed in a glowing jubba (A gents wear like kurta, rich middle aged men use to wear in Kerala) Mathiyas would look like a rich Malayali entrepreneur owning Rubber estates in Kottayam. The Golden (gold-like) ornaments on his body would substantiate that he belonged to one of those ‘achayans’ cult.

In loud, imposing voice he would call Mani; “Dey Ivde Vaa”

Looking at the Idli packets and its seller, Mathiyas would then ask for one sample Idli…; “Orennam kodu nokkatte”. Before jabbing the idli into his wide open mouth, he would sweetly remind that he wouldn’t pay if it was not tasty.

Like forcibly sinking the sun into the sea, he would soak the idli neck-deep into the chutney and then take a bite. He would relish the idli in his mouth, as if he had found the best idli ever, and look around to spread the ‘good news’ among his fellow passengers. He would look at Mani and say, “Super! Adipoli Idli, I wouldn’t mind eating the whole what you have”

Wondered by the big man’s grand appreciation of the Idlis, people would look at Mani. If such a gentleman can eat in the bus like an ordinary man, why shouldn’t we, they would think. One by one, they would buy Idlis and eat.

Cut to Naseer Bhai. Wrapped in a Mulla’s attire, he would call Mani from outside. Like his favorite Idli seller in the town, he would talk to Mani. He would bring in the good qualities of the Idlis and declare how much his family liked the Idlis. At the end, he would ask for 2 packets for his family and leave the scene.

What would happen next should be called as a festival of idlis. People, who hesitated to buy the Idlis initially, turn the scene upside down. All of them would buy, some of them would eat there itself, some would take home, some would buy again, some would ask for more chutney and some would even request for a free home delivery. Mani would serve them all, like an obliged attendant.

In the evenings, the Three Marketeers would sit together in the crown of a nearby hill called Chuttippara and share the profit of the day, which would be more than 3 folds of their basic expenses.

Though for a short time, they did wonderful business. Later, it was said that they had gone to Gulf as part of extending their business.

Mr. Kotler, are you listening?

Seeing Off

We can miss things by a second and loss them forever. A whole lot of things; even a loving grandfather.

It was our Christmas vacation, and we, Vinod, Prabha and me, were thrilled to be at Edamon, a place where our grandparents used to live alone. We came here to spend the whole ten days’ vacation.

Edamon has a nostalgic grasp in our lives. We used to live there earlier. We finished our primary schooling in this majestic land… the slinky canal flowing beside our house took us the first lessons of swimming… We rode our first cycle through the dust-filled roads of this place… The caning I had received with screech from Joykutty sir in the 4th standard of Govt Lower Primary School has its piquant reminiscence even toGday. I along with my brother, used to buy beedis from Pathumma Beevi’s shop and smoke them all hiding in Guard sir’s murky rubber estate! By now, you must have got a clear hint that how poignantly we had been affected by this place. Well, let’s come back; I will tell you more about Edamon later in another story.

Upon our arrival, Christmas was officially announced in the house. A beam of smile had dawned and spread across the old parent’s faces; like a beam of light cheep into a closed room all of a sudden. A flamboyant Christmas tree was put up, adorned with hanged lightings, color papers and stars. Our grandpa was an expert in making Christmas stars. As our arrival was pre-decided, he had already made all the arrangements to make stars. He cut bamboo in to small bendy sticks, and tied them with tags. With the help of papers and glue, he finally carved out an attractive star, which had six big corners. We hanged it in front of the tree and lighted a candle inside it.

A Christmas carol was performed in front of the tree and there was no other audience other than our exhilarated grandparents. We were treated with kisses. It’s great to be blessed by your grandparents, isn’t it?

The night was amazing. All the five of us slept on a single bed specially made. Stories were told, upon which dreams weaved wings and one of the most beautiful and obsessing nights was being flowed away.

The next day was a Sunday. The morning was promising a long day to kick-start our vacation lookouts. Swimming, trekking, fishing and every groovy option was on the list, and to begin with, church going wasn’t an option but a must-to-do.

Breakfast was on the table and everyone except my brother and me was there. We weren’t in the premises. Later we were told that our grandmother called us as aloud as she could. But those calls weren’t reaching our eardrums.

We missed a breakfast with our grandfather.

It was with our grandpa that we used to go to church. This day, he felt uneasy and we started off alone.

We missed him walking with us.

Before we could reach the church, Panikkathi, our helper came from home and told us that our grandfather was not well and he wanted to urgently meet us.

We ran back. We didn't talk anything. We threw our legs roughly into the dried up rice fields and their narrow walkable bunds; three hearts beat at the same rumbling pace!

On the way, we heard someone saying, 'He is no more'. We didn’t hear it.

But the sight at home wasn’t familiar to us. We had never seen so many people standing near our small house before. Cornered here and there, they threw silence at each other. Their gloomy eyes stared at us mercifully and attended us with care as we slowly stepped into the house.

In front of us, our grand father was lying, blanketed, like a white cloud flowing in the air of prayers. His eyes were closed like a flower fell on the ground. His toes were tied and nose was blocked. Smell of agarbatti filled our senses and we felt that it was not him who was lying there.

Tears were not stopped. The love he gave us came out as tears and we had nothing to stop them. Was he just a grandfather to us? No way. He was our teacher; he taught us in the Sunday schools. He was our mate in the fields. He was our fruit-vendor; he gave us from mangoes to jackfruits to eggfruits. He was our friend; with whom we took baths in the nostalgic rivulet called chirattakonam. Nearby that rivulet, he had secretly fed a rat-snake christened by him as ‘kumar’. One day we found him feeding Kumar and that made us jealous of the snake. We were attached to him so intensely. Above all that he was a gentle man we could take pride of. V K George. That’ was not just a name for him. That was an address.

At that moment, we didn’t really realize what were about to miss. Tears had sunk our emotions and sobbings our thinking. We were sure of only one thing that our grandfather was not going to be with us any more. That no other home-made star would adorn our Christmas trees. That neither he would walk with us to the fields nor bring sweetest jackfruits freshly picked.

There was a smile on his face. It shined his face like the way the stars he made shined our faces. Looking at me it said, "never miss a chance to be with your parents, ever in your life!"

Young sister of mine later told me that she had seen the soul of our grandpa riding up in the air like a seraph, tinted by the scented smoke hailed from agarbattis burnt in front of his dead body. His spirit was white in colour.

Happy April Fool's Day!

No, I didn’t intend it. Don’t call it a prank.

April Fool’s Day takes me back to the past like a mad cow chewing all day’s grubby grass-rolls with a fascinating smile. With a demure slightness, the day pings back all those ‘horseplays and fooling arounds’!

A simple prank proved out to be a bit worrisome last year. I had called up my friend 3G’s (name changed to provoke him) momma in Kerala and gave her some shocking news! I informed her that he got married in Mumbai and was coming back home. With ample seriousness and convincing voiceover, she was told that this wife of him was a Punjabi, the only daughter in her family and hence the Sardarjis in Mumbai were about to make a riot in search of the girl. 3G was on his way of eloping with his wife.

The poor lady just asked me what I was saying as she couldn’t believe what I was saying. Her voice tapered and she was about to break down. She made a shrill cry and handed over the phone to his sister, who was watching all these.

Poor 3G, no one in this planet can think of him doing like that. Why about eloping and marrying, he even stays away from looking at a girl right for a while! But this mom believed with pain that her son got changed once he came to Mumbai 2 months before.

His sister told me that her mom was not feeling well. I couldn’t hold it any more as I got frightened that something wrong would happen. I told her that it was a prank directed by me. Though she did not really understand the meaning of April Fool’s day, she didn’t abuse me over the phone!

During my schooling days with my brother, innovative pranks used to give us brakeless laughter. Once we had created a ‘paper tiger’. We coiled rubber bands tightly on a matchstick and wrapped it in gift wrapper. At various crucial points on the walkway, we placed them and hid near to watch the fun. I still remember one of our innocent victims who took it with utmost care. After confirming that no one was watching him, he opened it like a greedy dog ragging a food trash. In a moment, he got shocked as the rubber band loosened matchstick and it created a krrrrrrrrrrrrr sound on the paper! Sure, our victim was not having a nice time! Wasn’t it creaky?

Another outstanding prank I did was with a friend, Jose. We superglued coins on some public places and roads. And the result was beyond our laughing limits!

Along with its fun, April Fool’s day has its difficult moments too. As an active prankster, you tend to disbelieve others even if they tell you actual facts. Theeppathi Muthalali died on April 1, but we refused to believe the person who first brought the news. Muthalali was a businessman and he used to run the main grocery store in Edamon, a place where we used to live. By the time we confirmed his death, he went under the soil.

One more April Fool’s day is in. My friends, I don’t really know what I should do to all of you. But 3G, Joseph and Jose, be sure, there is something on your way!! And of course, you too dear Jackass!!

Bed Bugs, Uncle Johny and the Killer Machine...

‘Bed Bugs’ rhymes well. But make our life, a hell!

Bed bugs won’t care whether you are a male or female, cool or sentimental or whether your blog is growing. Come in group, they’ll booze your blood as if a Cranberry Bacardi Breezer.

The beauty of your nights and the story of your dreams will together turn to a nightmare as these sleep-slayers dine on your body.

I had days when I left my body wholeheartedly to their grand feasts. With me, one of my close friends, Santosh Kumar too had these ‘bugrighted’ days. We used to stay in a house in Coimbatore, where I did my PG Advertising Degree.

He had a bed, I, a mat, but we never slept! The bed bugs cheered all through!

An incidental story has its time here. 'Bed Bugs Killer Machine'. The Classified Advertisement read. ‘Kill all the bed bugs and put an end to your sleepless nights! .Original price Rs 1000. Our price, just 500’.

Uncle Johny couldn’t hold his excitement! In addition to writing for one, he went on to enlighten the neighbors with the news, since he thought that their life too would be as depressed as his own due to the prying bed bugs.

The news spread anticipation. Uncle Johny’s Bed Bug Machine came by post.

The Post Man came running. With him, a procession of eager villagers too.

Well packed in a hard-paper box, the machine evinced something special about it. Uncle Johny came forward. He seized the machine from the post man. With a kind of smugness, he opened the box. A

wesome, there was another box inside that! As brows got raised, he opened the second one. What was taken out was startling, a hammer and a stone!

There was a message attached to the hammer! It read like this; ‘When you find a bed bug, catch it with your hand and place it on the stone. Take the hammer and knock lightly till the bug dies’.

Later someone told that Uncle Johny had regained his consciousness at night! Bed bugs help too!

Panikkathi's Story..

Panikkathi was a servant of my grandmother. Dark and short, she was a bold woman of around 60 years old.

She belonged to a crazy gene as she used to do every weird thing in life such as smoking, drinking, dance after boozing etc.

During our childhood, she used to tell us stories of ghosts and fiends so that we wouldn’t get out of home at night to catch fireflies.

Catching fireflies was only meant for us, the luckiest kids like us!

What I wanted to tell you now is a melancholic note from Panikkathi’s life.

Panikkan was the husband of our heroin. He was an old sagely fellow, who took care of a temple nearby his home. One day he died leaving Panikkathi alone in this world. Between trembling nights, Panikkathi lived her lonely days.

One day, an old man from a distant place came to stay with Panikkathi. Panikkathi found it wholehearted to offer a stay to the homeless man.

Days passed like a brakeless car. And Love happened! Panikkathi was in love with that man! Having decided to be the better halves, they fixed a date for their wedding.

The auspicious day came. Dressed in her simple bridal clothes, Panikkathi came out. Like shy conquered, she was looking down and smiling to the floor. Panikkan’s temple was seemed to be a happy preface for her new life.

The registrar came! The registration book came! But the bridegroom did not come! He had gone out urgently to buy some stuff and not turned up yet!

Raising her face, Panikkathi found that there was no one near her! Neither the registrar nor the registration book! Like mocking her, a leaf fell down from a nearby coconut tree.

It was said that Panikkathi had collected a ‘big’ amount for her wedding and her bridegroom had taken her for a ride!

Hand of God!

Between Nisha and me, there was a hand.

It came so sudden like a bolt from the blue, then chomped the love in her mind and spewed the debris to a grimy land of contempt.

I have been silent all these days. But now I feel that urge within me to put down those magic moments here to have your sympathies on the same.

It was the fourth week of our ripened relationship.

I met her in Lintas, where I had been doing my training (trailing, as they would put it). In a jiffy, we became friends and a bit more than that. If I‘m spot on, she was a 'Coconut' by legacy but a 'Dosai' by nature. She spoke excellent Tamil but understood my Malayalam as well. Those were my first days in Mumbai and I was overjoyed to have a wonderful companion like this.

Like every other day of our sprouting romance, this awful day also came without any warning.

I was supposed to meet her at 10 near Churchgate station but I was late to start from home. Came to the Santacruz railway station, the queue before the ticket counter took my breath for a second. Like a leech of thousand legs, it appeared to me as frustrating my morale. I decided to go illegal.

Churchgate station came in half an hour.

I saw her standing way ahead biting her nails.

She saw me reaching her like a bullet fired late.

Then came this ghastly hand. Wrapped in black cotton sleeves, it was of a decent ticket-checking officer.

He snared me with this wonderful hand of him. Though I was sure I hadn’t bought a ticket that day, I searched through my clothes pocket after pocket. Finally, the ticket I got was of 3 days old.

He had options to relieve me! Either pay Rs 300 as fine or spend a quality time in the Jail.

The total amount that he could excavate from my body came up to Rs. 50. He did not seem to be adherent at all.

From a distance, some one was watching all these sudden ‘twists and turns’ in the story. She looked at me like how the inspector looked at me… same disrespect, same incredulity. I lost myself.

She came forward and paid the man and released me from his custody. I didn’t say a word. I wasn’t getting any.

What more to say, that was our last meeting. She never came in my way afterwards. She had never waited for me in the corners of Churchgate station… And I never had to skip the queues too.

The hand still remains valid in my memories; like the ‘hand of a God’

Shouldn't be!!

She seemed to be my 'Would be'!
But soon I realized, She is my 'Wouldn't be'
Yesterday, she confirmed that she is my 'Shouldn't be'

Alternate Recharging Option!

Why should I recharge my mobile?

It’s YOU, who call me. I mean YOU ALL.

Then, why don’t you collect some funds and recharge my mobile?

Yes, do it.

L(e)ast Working Day...

Good Omen in the morning.

9 A.M. Today I got up with a bit of surprise, as my brother had already got up but was sitting on the bed, looking at my face.

Blinking, blinking he said, “Da, I’m hungry.. Gimme money, I will buy bread and come...”

Money? Ohh gosh.., the very word is dangerous…, it can haul your past and peel it again and again to find out that you, without money, are a big zero!

The word reminded me of the importance of the day, the last day, the final working day at EnableM, a place where I have been working since a couple of years…, a place from where I have grabbed friends for my life…., a place where I gave my flesh and blood for making dreams possible.

“Just swipe the card and come… See whether the pay is being credited or not”

EnableM is like that; it will never turn face against your monetary needs, but will make you wait for it. Just a little extra time!

The boy came back, looking down at his stomach. He put the print receipt on to my arms. “Not credited yet, sickos!” I felt guilty for taking a print of my zero balance and particularly more scared to think that the bank would even take action against printing null-balance receipts.

Today is my last working day here; bank balance is shamefully down, salary for the last month has not yet delivered to the account.

Last working day in an office! It’s not self-explanatory.

Office showed me a more caring face today. Like compensating my late-salary grievances. I found Neenad, the nunni at the gate itself, waving hands and calling out “Boy George”

Hmm, he calls me whatever he can; he just needs some alphabets and their phonetics. PS: Names come with gestures.

Amit Bhilare insisted me that I should meet him every day at my new office, nearby where he stays.

For the last time today, Ajit Nair reminded me of my duties to myself, from saving funds to pinging girls without investing my future!

The Brittannia biscuits brought to me by Jyotie tasted better today because she offered it too early as if she knew that I missed my breakfast! Crunch-crunch the lovely punch, “You gonna miss her”!

Aloha! My salary just got credited; the hungry boy called up right now as he went to swipe the card. At least he can have some decent food today. He might eat loads of Chinese food and have Sugarcane juice, his favorite.

EnableM did justice to me. Can there be a better “spare well”? I have done good to them, they’ve returned it.

I looked at Manish’s face. It was pretty “smilish” today. May be because his swollen lips have reduced to their normal looks after a horrible allergic week.

Comes here the last official mail; a mail that says Cheers and Thanks to all my friends here, probably something I always wanted to do over these times. Now is the right reason that is too strong to justify my urge.

B’bye all of you, you have been too good for me, and I have tried to match it. See you around, again!!

Sunday School Ramayana!!

With people like Narendra Modi around, today we can’t help having that feeling of a Hindu or Muslim or Christian. They keep on reminding us through every word and action. Even if we don’t accept a label, they will try to inflict it upon us.

Without these people, assume how fruitful life would have been? I can remember an honest incident to take your attention for granted; an incident which taught us that you are not a Hindu nor a Christian but a human being.

Like every other Sunday, we had to go to church on this particular Sunday too. The kids had to reach the church early. The purpose of going so early was to attend the Sunday School, spirituality classes meant for the parish kids.

But we never.

What we went for was to attend another spiritual feast, namely Ramayana, a tele-serial used to be aired those days, exactly at the time of our Sunday School classes. Just beneath the church was this house, where we flocked to watch the serial.

Once the serial was over, we stepped in the Church.

Ohh… awaiting our arrival, there was someone standing in front of the Church, the priest, Father John. He had a stick in hand.

“Where were you? “

“There.” Our hands showed the house.

“Doing what?”

“Watching Ramayana”

“Then tell me who took the Ring as Keepsake of Sita and went to Lanka to console her?”

“Hmmm Hanuman”

“Good. Now go to Church.” He left the stick on the ground.

At the end of the Holy Mass, he asked all the kids to stand up. Then he told to the parents that from the coming Sunday onwards Sunday School would be one hour later after the serial got over.

Simply Serious

Simple fun can bring serious danger. Listen to what had happened to my brother and sister when they were as young as flower buds.

On the terrace, I was helping my mother to dry her sari. Standing apart from each other, we held the sari just like in a tug-of-war. This is how we straighten the curved parts of the sari.

During this time, my sister came on to the fore followed by her ever-haunting brother. Playing ‘Police and Thief’ they were in no mood to look at what we were doing. The sari was kept against the little girl and she came backwards just to get entrapped in the sari and then fall backwards. There was no blockage to stop her and she fell down from the terrace to a depth of 30 feet.

The moments we took to regain the breaths can’t just be expressed through these words. The only sister, so small and pretty, but all seemed like a bad riddle.

In the meantime, some of the elders could nab the culprit, the mischievous boy, who was standing like a busted vase. One of them caught hold of him and awarded him with punishments.

He couldn’t just stand his emotions. He ran towards the canal flowing nearby. He wanted to end his life. A life without his sister was too unthinkable.

Manju, an elder sister of mine could act her nerves, and she grabbed the boy from jumping into the terrifying canal.

Fortune again felt mercy towards us, and the little girl was safe in the fluffy sand without an injury. [Though now she is rather injurious):]

Even today, this incident haunts us, but rather like a melodrama acted by two beloved actors the hero VINOD and the heroine PRABHA.

The Blunder Man

It’s too late to talk about Sreejith, one of my good friends. As he is a 3D animator, we’ve shortened his name to 3G.

He is a known figure among us for his natural blunders. Blessed with a lot of forgetfulness, he keeps on going and jumping into a lot of funny incidents, which regularly get us a laugh every time we gather.

I can’t help telling you one such incident, which constantly haunts me and makes me laugh and then cry due to laughter.

The day he had lost a rain jacket, I had asked him to take care of his belongings more carefully. But the next week, he again lost the new umbrella!

Since he was my roommate, I couldn’t help asking him where the umbrella was. He had no answers but a few doubts on how he would have lost it.

It could be in the crowded bus, as he would have kept it loose in hands while snoozing. Or it could be in the office as someone else could have taken it. It could be even at the railway station, while struggling to get into the second class compartment. He had no clear idea.

As usual, we went on teasing him.

A few weeks later, he came back with a little aggression on his face.

Uncompromisingly he said, “You dogs, I have got the umbrella back, it was in my bag itself… see it’s here….”

Laughter is now prohibited in my premises.

MicroSWIFT Office!

Lately I have discovered that Internet wouldn’t be that slow in my office, but could be too fast that it must have reached even beyond the current website and now trying to coming back!

Though the sites do not open as and when needed, this type of an observation should throw some relief to me.

Dear system administrator, are you listening?

A Sleepstick Comedy!

Sitting behind me on Bike, Sajan said, ‘San, I feel very sleepy.. !’
I couldn’t help telling him this, ‘I too feel the same’
It seemed that he didn’t feel sleepy afterwards!

One man's sleep is another man's sleeplessness!!

InterNOT Shopping !!

I feel shy.

I have placed an order for a Rain Jacket on Sify Shopping. It took five days for them to deliver me a Winter Jacket.

I have again placed an order for a Rain Jacket on Rediff Shopping. It took around 15 days and today I received a raincoat worth of 50 bucks at Rs 300.

No explicit complaints!

NET. Never Ever Try Shopping.

Podimon...

Podimon was born when his elder brother was 18.

He was the youngest member of his family and the biggest in terms of the love he used to get from others.

If you are the youngest in your family, you would know this, the love and the love bites as well!

He was now 6 years old. After the yearlong toil, his Chacha was going to come home on a vacation.

Podimon was at the end of his patience rope. His eyes were about to jump out of their lids as he kept on looking up above the sky, waiting for his Chacha’s airplane to fly by! Minutes grown to hours but Podimon was not yet tired of waiting!

Suddenly he saw something in the sky, roughly like an airplane. To get a clearer view of it Podimon climbed the nearby tree, with his eyes above head. Yes!! It’s an airplane, Podimon had felt goosebumps! ‘Chachaaaaaaaaaaa!, he yelled in glee, raising both the hands to the plane! He lost his balance and fell down as gravity played its role without fail!

When Chacha came, Podimon welcomed him with his little hands, but broken and plastered! In sweet voice he asked, ‘Chacha did you hear me calling you’?

Realizing what had happened, his elder brother said, ‘Yes, of course, I was also shouting at you, but you weren’t listening’

Kottayam- The Cultural CentreShock!!

Kottayam is known as the Cultural Center of Kerala. But when you are there, if you don’t take ultra care of your valuables, you might say the contrary.

Yes, some times things are boasted above what’s it actually. May be to make money, or just to make some noise.

In my dreams, Kottayam has always been a lurid land of nightmares. Once upon a time, it had me in tears and fears.

After degree, I have planned to take advertising as my career stream. I have found an institution in Coimbatore offering PG in Advertising and was on my way to get admission there. I was with my Dad.

Till Kottayam, my briefcase was there in the rack of the bus. But when the bus reached the station at Kottayam, the Briefcase was found missing and replaced by another empty one.

I felt sweat on my palms! My Dad was almost mad! Who took the briefcase? It had contained a better deal of me! All my certificates, diaries, money and almost everything that I had been valuing till that date…

The police hub was found almost empty but more disappointing was the way the one cop was reacting. With a needless smile, he had poured in our details into his casebook and asked us to leave the place as soon as possible. He told us that incidents like this are very common in Kottayam and it would be ideal if the passengers could take care of their valuables. Advice, the most commonly available remedy to your disasters!!!

‘Where to go now?’ thoughts popped up as we have realized that there was no money left in the pockets.

A father and son, belonged to values, prestige and hopes, are now made beggars in a town, the cultural center!

The last pocket of my multi-sachet-pants had some hopes for me. Two hundred bucks given by my grandmother was in it, like a green in the desert.

With the remaining shock in mind, we left the place.

Till today, at least in my most eccentric dreams, I have hoped for the return of my Hard Earned certificates from a Mr. Gentleman… who would have mistakenly took away my briefcase and my scopes!!

My Dad says that the person would have completed his never-dreamt-about professional course and now working in any of the top companies! Another Santhosh George Wilson!!

Hail Mary full of....Sri Ganeshaya Namah...

There is a great spirit for the people of Mumbai, which can be seen nowhere else in the world; the spirit of harmony especially between communities and beliefs.

I have got gladdened after remembering an incident happened last year...

As usual, Sri Ganesh Chaturthi and Mother Mary Feast came together. Above these two, there was a celebration of unanimity between the two communities.

As the Church of Mother Mary and Temple of Lord Ganesh are situated nose-to-nose, believers of both stood close to each other, facing their respective divinities. But what has surprised me is that, whenever there was an open prayer in the Church, the temple loudspeakers would be shut down so that there wouldn't be any clash. In the same way, the churchgoers would soon finish their open prayers so that the others could continue their hymns through loudspeakers. This used to happen several times a day and most surprisingly, without any prior agreement!

It was really a feast to the 'socialheart'

And whenever the prayers happened to be uttered in both the shrines at the same time, what came out was an amalgamated, inexplicable blend of devotion...may be something the God really understands...

Comedy in the Theatre

‘Where are you going?’ This one question made me laugh a lot coz, it’s me who had asked this question to a friend when I met him inside a ‘theatre’.

No comments, please.

Bread-winning Adventure!!

Shobha weds Ashok, the gatepost read!

While passing this ceremonious entrance of that wedding reception with my friend Joseph, I barely had thoughts about writing this story in a blog like this.

Some things are like pickling. You would salt them away in memories, and when recollect later, they would put in more sense to your contemporary life.

When you are hungry, you won’t essentially do any adventures. But when you don’t have funds to buy your food, you might be forced to carry out some adventures to fill your stomach. Like attending a wedding! Attending a wedding is auspicious! But attending it without an invitation can be suspicious! And that will be very adventurous too.

Joseph looked like a gentleman among the reputable folks there, like a one with loads of responsibilities to bear in the function. I just tried to stand beside him and make my presence clear of doubts and glaring eyes.

He performed well, ran here and there, passed on messages, delegated orders, cracked jokes with seniors, and even helped the bride’s father to arrange the folks in line.

After this, he had also posed for photographs with the newly wed couple. The bride as well as the bridegroom smiled and shook hands with him! His face looked broadened with a smile. (Did he try to taunt the bride in between? I don’t remember now!)

By the time, I could realize the secret behind his Oscar-sizeable performance! The bride’s men would have thought that he was from the bridegroom’s side and the bridegroom’s party would have thought vice versa too.

The functions were over, and now it was time for our grand dinner. Wine and dine in a nice shining night! We consumed the day’s food altogether.

I remember Joseph, scolding the wine-server for making the guests waiting for a little longer on the cozy seats!

Found it!

I'm a Manager. I'm Managing, A MAN who is AGING!

Locked Up!

Kerala is a great place. But I must say that this greatness is only in its looks and not in its contemporary mores. As days grow, the people in Kerala are becoming more and more insane and insolent. They will just meddle into and screw your glitter of life. When people have no job except some smutty dissolute politics, you can’t expect any good instincts from them other than fraudulence and criminality. Luck or not, the world is yet more or less unknown about these dissolutions.

As a Keralite, I have inexplicable disappointment in this heavy truth. But truth is always bitter, I grasp.

One of my recent experiences had matched this gloomy fact and affirmed it without qualms.

I had gone to Kerala during last Easter. It was a nice time out as the stress of jobs and strain of ‘daily living’ had surrendered to a kind of enticing calmness. With my brother and two other friends I went to the nearest town, Punalur, for a movie. We were in bikes and had to park the bikes in a shed nearby the theatre. The shed was the part of a tourist bungalow lying close to it.

Once the movie got over we came back to the bikes but what we could find was awfully nasty that the bikes’ tyres were punctured, mirrors broken and fuel dripped out. Being furious, we had no other way but to question the guard in duty of the Bungalow. He was heavily drunk and was in a bad mood. When he denied answering we could estimate that none other than him did the crime. Being a Law Student and furthermore branded for being very instinctive, my brother had created a scene over there. He pointed out the nifty sections of the law like a priest reciting the preludes of verses!

Finally the man told us that the police had done those misdemeanors because it was non-parking area. He also claimed to have paid five hundred bucks to the police for the carelessness from his side.

My brother was at the end of his patience. He slapped the guard on the spot, as it was clear that he was lying.

By this time, somebody had called the police. ‘Drunkards attacking a guard’, police rushed in with necessary set up to offer all of us a night’s stay in the lockup.

Seeing police coming, the guard got charged up! Vengeful in mind, the over-smart guard took hold of my collar and tried to hit me with his knees. Caught on the spot for this misbehavior, the guard too was taken to the police custody.

From then till reaching the police station, it was a rain of all bad words in the language, a special talent that our policemen can boast of!

“Lock up! Oh my god, this is the first time I’m coming to a police station! That too, like a criminal! Beaten up and abused! My little brother, my friends, my pride, my self-respect , I am going to see all this agony?” I never wanted to argue with that foolish guard, I never wanted to question my bike’s damages, I never wanted to park my bike there, I never wanted to come for that movie... but no use now!

The policemen asked us to remove our shirts and shoes. My brother, who couldn’t digest what was really going on, opened his lawful mouth yet again, but to get beaten up again. My self-belief couldn’t prevent the brook of tears from flowing alongside the cheeks and falling down like a tap kept open. I cried in heart like a child.

From here, the things were not very awful as we expected. All of us were taken to the hospital for medical tests to find out whether drunk or not and this had saved us! It was found that we were normal but the guard, who too was taken for the tests, was drunk extremely.

Later we told the police that the guard had accused the police of doing the crime of damaging the bikes. Hearing this, the police rage has amplified against him and he got further charges.

See! Someone just intrudes into your life, makes it unhappiest and then gets himself in peril!

By this time, our poor dad had arrived there, with all his nerves arrested like frozen. He was neither angry nor sad. He had no emotions.

Because he wanted his sons to be conscientious and proactive always, though he never wanted to meet them in a police station in such a condition!

We lied to him that they didn’t beat us!

A Passive Mistake...

'Passive Voice’ is not about being passive in life. It’s just about writing passive sentences in English Grammar.
The teacher was busy giving lectures on ‘Passive Voice’ & ‘Active Voice’ Thus she asked me to write the passive voice of the sentence ‘I made a mistake’. Like now, even then I was very impulsive in my reactions.

I got up and said, ‘I was made by a mistake’. The teacher looked at me awkwardly.

Like agreed with me, my friend, who was sitting near me stood up and said … ‘I think he is right'

What do you say, was I right or wrong?

My Valentine Perception...

Love Nibbles, when you know that she loves you too, but not ready to disclose it to each other so easily.

But I feel, this is the most charming moment in one’s Love life. Only eyes speak the tender tongue, the rhythm of Love.

Eyes do sparklers in the hearts. It speaks, it hugs and it says, I LOVE YOU.

When you are in this time of your life, you will really feel that everything that she does reciprocates to what you do and feel. Her passions become yours, your smile becomes hers and your world unifies to become a lone and lovely one.

But of course, if she doesn’t smile, you will feel really bad!

Recycle Fun!

One of my friends revealed that he had been saving important documents in Recycle Bin and it was now he realized that those files got deleted from there.

At first he thought it was some Recycle Gin!

I told him that it was a Recycle Sin!

How to change a wine to champagne?

You don’t know. But I have done that.

It’s simple. Fairly like a story.

During the last Easter, I was going home to meet my parents. It was a train journey.

The snake-like train resembled a pregnant belly but full of nostalgic wistfulness. The old man who had colonized my side seat never seemed to be friendly enough to get up and offer the seat to me. I tried to disregard it and settled myself on the upper birth.

The train reached Pune. The rest of the journey seemed to be an unending twine of hour-like minutes. By this time, some Police Officers came in patrolling with their noses spread and eyes wide open like church bells.

Like every other passenger, I too was asked to show my luggage. The inspector’s face bloomed with a disgraceful interest when he found the newly bought trolley-bag. Suddenly, he asked me to open the bag.

Some smuggling racket had been seized during the day and thus the inspectors were checking each and every package they found nosy (sometimes cozy too).

A pack of cotton kerchiefs, specially bought for my Papa, two crates of Dairy Milk chocolate, a fine leather bag for my mom, clothing kept for my brother and sister…the inspector was finding himself amused while pulling the neatly packed items one by one, wondering he was in a ‘tug-of-war’

Now comes our ‘hero’, the wine bottle. Like a dog snatching a bone, the police man picked up the bottle. By this time his fellow police men also joined the bandwagon. I was called towards a private zone on the train. Taking my greenness with Hindi for a ride, they could convince me to pay 1000 bucks in order avoid a police enquiry and subsequent legal actions. ‘If you go by the law’, the lead officer mumbled, ‘you will end up paying 3000 bucks’

‘1000 bucks fine for a 300 bucks wine??’ Irony scowled at me.

‘No sirs… I don’t carry that much money...’ But I had, I knew.

‘Shhh….. quietly’…. The officer reminded me. ‘Show me your purse’ … He added.

My purse betrayed me and I ended up paying 1000. Money works wonders….; the unlawful bottle returned to my bag in no time.

I couldn’t believe myself. Distracted and the most distressed, I reached my home.

But by that time, I had realized that my petty wine had transformed to a pricey Champagne.

Mutual Funned!!!!!

‘Am I talking to Mr Santhosh Wilson?’, the HR guy asked courteously. ‘Yes, may I know whoz online…’ courtesy found to be working well with me too.

‘I’m Naveen from Global Heights consultancy. Sir, I have a job vacancy, which would suit you better than your current profile…May I know whether you are looking for a job switch? ‘

‘Please carry on… ‘ I suggested.

‘The opening is with one of the leading Content Editing company in the town…they are looking for a Senior Editor to lead their content team… ‘

‘Mr Naveen…’, I interrupted. ‘The matter is that I ‘m not so keen on Editing…I mean, I just like to do advertising concepts and writing related to that… ‘

‘You mean, this job is not for you??’ His enthusiasm had lowered to a kind of monotonic veracity.

‘Yes…’

But his next shot came very instantly. ‘But I’m sure, you can refer me one of your friends who might fit this vacancy.’

‘Oh sure…’ I browsed my memory. ‘I have a friend whose name is Amar…you can contact him at 9820…’

I couldn’t finish as his reply swirled in between; ‘I have contacted one Amar already… ‘

‘Is it Amar Negi ? ‘ And I was not at all curious about the response.

But what came out was something very unpredicted…. ‘YES……AND IT IS THE SAME GUY WHO GAVE ME YOUR NUMBER……..’

‘Hello….err…Pardon….!!! ??? ‘

The revenge of a snake

There was a farmer named Gopalan lived in my village. One day, he was going to a nearby stream to take his morning bath.

On the way, he found two snakes mating. Afraid of snakes, he threw a stone to divert them from the pavement. Unfortunately, the stone hit one of the snakes and it died on the spot. In the scurry, the other snake disappeared somewhere.
Though saddened by his instinctive act, Gopalan proceeded towards the stream. But a gloom of vengeance was following him…a few feet behind.

The time he stepped on to the river, something struck him from behind. It was the other snake, which had lost its mate. Before him drawing enough time to think, the snake nibbled him... sinking its teeth deep into his thighs.

Gopalan screamed! Beyond trees, walls, fields and people….

He tried pulling the snake out. But it pained him more and more. Blood started spurting like a spray.

Gopalan felt dizziness as he found things around him fading. He fell down.

One of the men carried a knife with him. He pulled the snake with one hand and cut it into two. With pain, Gopalan opened his eyes. He said…’it was my mistake…I killed its mate….’ And he closed his eyes. It never opened again.

It was a non-poisonous snake. But he died because of a nerve breakdown.

With a charming insolence, the steam carried away the red drops of that great revenge.

The Uninvited Forefathers…

By the way, there is one guy I wanted you to meet. He is my own brother. Brand Name, Vinod Matthew Wilson.

Describing his heroics is pretty difficult and I ‘m a bit sleepy now, so lemme tell you one of his several grand ‘blunderful’ spoofs.

He was around 5 years old when he gave birth to this cute bungle that we still haunt to get an inspired laugh whenever coming together.

It was the time of our forefathers’ feast. All the big-small, bigger-smaller, biggest-smallest members in the family were gathered there in our ancestral house. Forefathers’ feast is an important occasion for the family because, more than remembering the deceased fellows, it played a convincing role in bringing all the family members together for sometime.

Yes, this day we all prayed for the ancestors’ souls. As usual, my grandmother wept for sometime remembering her lost children, father and mother. After this, it was the time for the grand lunch.

Before any ‘living member’ tasting the food, dinner, properly served, would be offered to the departed souls specially in a remote room. It was the job of the eldest member of the family. My grandpa had done this reverentially and he came out after closing the door.

Sometime later, while we children were eating in another room, there heard a screech followed by crumbs of laughter. The source of laughter was well known to us, as our grandpa had been gifted with a great sense of humor and we guys used to hear him laughing at every other minute for something or the other. But now, at this moment what had made him laugh in a mirth?

We forgo the food and ran.

At the ancestors’ room we saw my little bro standing amused in front of the humor-stricken grandfather. With a slight coyness, Grandpa had pointed towards the room. Though smelled a rat, we kept our reverence in due extent as we were going to peep into the esteemed haven of forefathers.

There we saw, but to our wariness, a group of dogs eating the dinner ceremoniously. What a pity???

By this time our grandma came with a small cane and the uninvited guests ran away.

But still, the grandpa was going like a “brakeless bus.” Laughter, another laughter and another and another…’Gone mad’, Grandma hinted in a sulk.

Later in the day he confessed us the top secret that drove him eccentric.

That my brother, who was watching the dogs eating the foods, had then asked him, “Grandpa grandpa, your papa and mamma had tails or what???

A smallest piece of happiness...

Happiness spurs your moods up! Even the smallest things would feel the greatest. Then you will feel like talking to people and sharing that great reason of being so happy and charged up.

A Rickshaw driver is my hero today. I just got him yesterday from Andheri. I had to go to Santacruz.

‘I have to reach Santacrus urgently’ , I told him.

Unlike most of the other drivers, this guy has got me through the shortest distance possible, where traffic hardly annoyed.

At the end, the meter read 40. I gave him 50 bucks and he returned 11. By this time, the meter had jumped to 41. I gave him back the 1 rupee. With a pleasing face he hesitated.!

‘39 is the exact fare and you already gave me that’

Amusement widened my eyes, though there was nothing to be amused so much. But hearing something like this, from some one like him had a special charm of itself!

Now I’m happy because I got him to take me to and from my office every day.

A Fresh ChEATING!

I have got cheated. A lot of times; by friends...fate...and even sometimes by formless feelings too. But yesterday's one was a little chimerical.

After meeting a guy in the Yahoo Lower Parel office, I went to a nearby Fresh Juice Stall. From the menu items recited by the waiter, I picked my favorite, Mango Milk Shake.

Ji Saab Thoda Rukhiye.. (Please wait sir) He told me.

I saw him jumping here and there with a little uncertainty across his face, and he disappeared for the next ten minutes. Then he appeared with the Mango Milk shake.

With the first sip, I felt something strange on my tongue. 'No, this is not the Mango Milk Shake I wanted.' With one more sip, this strangeness reverted to a kind of nostalgia, which reminded me of my glorious days with my father who used to buy me the blissfully tasted 'Mangola' whenever I used to go out with him.

I looked into the drink once again. The real shake came then. Instead of a real Mango Milk Shake, he poured in some local mango drink and a scoop of milk powder. Mango Milk Shake or Mango Milk Shock?

Anyway, with a fresh sip, I concluded that it was a Mangola Milk Shake.

I just called up the waiter and asked for the bill. He said 40 Rupees. Great entertainment! 8 rupees Mangola + 2 rupees milk powder = 40 rupees Mango Milk Shake. I couldn't help asking him, 'How many Mangolas' have you poured in?'

He did not have answer for that, but had a solution; 'Sir please gimme 25 rupees only'. Ceasefire! He made a new bill.
(By the way, guys this can be a great advertisement for Mangola)

Nightlife----

Life pulls.
Dreams apart. Childhoods apart. Loves apart.

Nowadays, the lost life with my brother and sister makes my eyes moist a lot. Actually those were my grand days.

At nights, I used to sleep with my brother. On the next bed, it was my sister. Inside the four walls, what we used to have was not sleep, but the most memorable moments of our lives.

At around 10, we would close all our day dreams and withdrew to sleep. Now the scene was taken to the bed where we, my brother and I, would all set to start the star war. It would begin with an analysis of the days major heroics. With deep sighs we would admit, how cheap or horrible the day was for each of us. Or how cool the coming day was going to be.

After this, it would be time for the actual show. With a shock, either of us would realize that how brutally one occupied the other’s place in the bed. Almost the whole bed, Oh God! It would kick start the push-pull, which finally end in harsh fouls towards each other.

Now it’s the role of our dear sister, ‘the negotiator of all fights in the world.’

With a naïve anger, she would interfere and solve the whole dilemma immediately. For this, we had had petty punishments too.

But the crisis might have persisted; in the form of blanket, another common property of both of us. With the flair of a cross-border terrorist, we would try to grab that extra inch of the senseless blanket. Pull right…pull left… Pull right…pull left…With an agonizing shriek, the blanket would tear! Then the game over as the players would realize the truth with a bash on their face. And sleep would fall the final curtain sometime now…

The next day would start with a hapless verdict on the fate of the blanket, as it would be stitched back to normality by both of us.

In between these days my little sister told me that once she interchanged her brothers’ pillows each other. Just to see a pillow fight between them.!

Smiley, the girl in the bus...

Smiling can scare you. I just came to know that. Yesterday, in the bus, a girl was smiling at me. When I looked at her face, I couldn’t control myself, I smiled back. After this, she kept on smiling, as there was a lot to smile about me. Though embarrassed, I asked her whether she knew me. Oh my God, she got scared! And seeing that, I got scared too! See, a smile could make two people scared at the same time!

In the evening, a middle-aged man smiled at me. A weary, odd smile…! Oh God… luck, this time I never smiled back…. Coz…I was scared. I never looked at him after that. And through the side of my umbrella, I saw another middle-aged man smiling at him!

And the girl, I met her today again. I think she is made for smiling. Throughout the journey, she was smiling…a cute and sweet smile…

The Blind Hope- & Nibin, the youngest bud fell apart!

God is blind. Fully and seriously. Since I don’t want to join an atheist’s army, I must not say there is no God!

Here is the story of a young boy who died yesterday, like a bud falling apart before sprouting completely.

Nibin is what we call him. Making the last 17 years of him a painful past, bloody death snatched him away from the caress of his mother and only sister. For a silly reason, Dengue!

His mother is a widow. She lost her husband just 6 years after her marriage. Nibin, a couple of years old then, was crying bitterly, seeing his mother in moaning.

Without loosing hope in Life, She grew her kids. Once again, she sowed all her dreams. And the horrible night of yesterday, like a blast of sadness, shattered all those dreams. And he went away.

Nibin. See, from right or left, you can spell it the same way! Just like how his loving sister used to do. Just like how his friends used to do. Now she has nothing to do, nor they, except wiping the clueless tears.

A horrible nothingness looms my heart, and there is no tears, no laments, but only an undying silence!

And here is our ‘loving’ God! I still believe him, just that He is totally blind.

Get something for you too...

When you pray for others, you get something for yourself.

Today my sister’s results came out. She has passed her Examination miraculously.

The former sentence is valid here because, I have taken a vow yesterday that I would pray in the Mahim church every possible Wednesdays till my last day in Mumbai. It was for her.

And today, she got her good results. I still remember the day when she came back after the examination, completely broken.

But I don’t want to tell her about this now, coz, she has another year to pass her graduation. What if she takes this vow for a ride?

And now I’m very happy to see her happiness. And that's my great profit in this deal. In deed, lot of thanks to our Lady of Love.

Smoking was injurious to my health

My first cigarette was when I was three years old. A ‘used’ Panama filter. I don’t exactly remember the man, who had finished it almost till the end. I was just trying to imitate what he was doing.
After taking the dying cigarette in hand, I thought for a moment as to which direction should I breathe it.
Blow out?? ‘Chiichii’, I had emitted a big swell of smoke.
I pulled it in..Yes, but a mouthful of tangy smoke made me to cough hysterically.
But there was someone who had been looking at me all those time without my knowledge, my Dad.
(He is a very good human being, friendly and warm, except when he is angry. )
The rest is secret (a very natural secret between a father and a son).

The "Catress" and her mystery

She is beautiful and adorable.
She is simple but her pauses are of royal genres.
Her brows are slightly tanned and eyes are light blue in color.
Her face bears the cutest expressions I’ve ever seen.
Her curvatures are great.

May be it is her divine beauty that ‘trapped’ her.
Or is it just a natural fate???

Anyhow she is pregnant now.
(I don’t know how many months she is.)

She is gloomy and impertinent today.
As if she dislikes herself.

(I will never let her alone in my house…
Because these male cats have a curious tendency,
If they’re no human beings around,
They will come out from their disguises to houses,
To lure the beautiful “catresses”)

GET LOST PLS!!

Is this wrong to answer like this, when I was asked by an employer, ‘How would you benefit my company?’

"Dear friend,
It took a day and night to digest a simple question asked by you but gradually my mind got it ripped by some brilliant thought canines.

The question was this; (as you may have easily forgotten it) ‘How do you benefit me?’ Anyhow, the question seemed to be very raw, as I had never given a thought to it at any of my previous moments. Confusion was piling up just like how snowflakes swell a Himalayan tip. All of a sudden the same question reverberated from the base of my mind in a different shape (like a reflection of your question); ‘how do I benefit you?’

Yes! It’s clear now; I really understood what you were asking me. I have a few answers to your question – No other lines describe me better than this lyric by Bob Dylan;

‘What good am I if I'm like all the rest? ………….
…………………. What good am I if I know and don't do,
If I see and don't say, if I look right through you,
If I turn a deaf ear to the thunderin' sky,What good am I?’

I feel, no, I know I am good (at least ‘am trying to be…).
I am a writer. A copywriter. I copy and write; from my mind to my papers.

Would this benefit you?? Or shall I offer you some more benefits?

I am a good coffeewriter. I can be a better company for you at your coffee times. A good pastime with a lousy dumb brief. When you get fed up with ideas, just stretch my mind. That’s why I call it ‘an elastic mind’

A better chance to spend your money wisely. You can feel free to pay me as it raises my interest a lot.

As I usually have a lighted cigarette on my lips, you can light yours from that easily. Enough?

There are some problems too, dear friend.

Sometimes I may haunt your dreams. I have a huge collection of stories that are crying to get out of my brimming mind. I may be tempted to tell you (Pls think before you call me in)

I can be a very cool irritant at times. I may threaten you to see my blog site.

Dear friend, Any way, your question was pretty good and tricky in itself. It refreshed my mind a lot after the wet days of flooding. And it raised a lot of questions against my existence too. Should I continue thinking ways to profit your reputed company??? "

SEX COUNSELOR

Yesterday night was a bit horrible one. After seeing one copy of the magazine, for which 'am working for, my aunty got so much irritated. It’s my designation that made her gone out of her emotions. By mistake my name was kept as a ‘sex counsellor’ though everybody knows ‘am still a fine celibate. That was purely a mistake but in no way I could convince her. ‘I know this is why you like your present company very much’ she found out. Fortunately, nowadays I reach home earlier (otherwise??)