In the name of- Updating my Blog..!! - 3

1)Just because I did not update my blog, you people need not do this. Become responsible citizens; be friends with nature. My sincere request-




2)First things first, I have been in the well. Have you been in the well too?? I will keep you in my prayers (to Shaktiman), if you’ve not been in the well, don’t you worry.

3)I said “First things first” in the second point. Kick me on my backside.

4)Oh My God! I am unbelievably intelligent. Look, how well I tackled point 3.

5)I was asked to stay at home today apparently because people thought I was too “HOT” to handle. I floated on ‘cloud nine’ until mom gave me the killer punch; she told it was just ‘fever’. Environmentalists say it’s ‘Global Warming’.

6)I’ve learned to cook a few dishes lately. The word spreads so fast; it’s been a month since a guest last came home.

7)I know I waste time on the internet. But, what did great people do?? That guy Newton sat under an apple tree.

8)On deep introspection, I found a common word that wrecked my life; TABLES. In school, it was the ‘Arithmetic multiplication tables’; and then there were ‘Dining Tables’.

9)I asked my friend- “How did you spend your weekend??” He replied like Mr. Cool-as-cucumber, “I was ‘hanging’ with my friends.” I didn’t meet/talk to him ever since. I’m scared of ghosts.

10)I met this guy recently, and somewhere in between our conversation I told him- “I’m presently suffering. This bloody Writers Block.” He asked me innocently- “Is there a separate block for writers in your Apartment??”

11)I gave Roshan an invaluable advice- “When a girl is explaining how much she loves you, you should not interfere to correct her grammar.”

12)Hey guys, do you remember Dhoni? Yeah, the same guy, who once upon a time had long hair, which made girls lose their minds. Remember? Yeah, he went to Afridi before the match and threatened- “One more win and we’ll send Rakhi too.”

13)Roshan, who had an exam that day, told me- “My bed is full of books.” I advised him to sleep on the floor.

14)I guess you guys would remember the way I used to blow steam into your ears with all my Kidnapped-by-the-American-President dreams?? Here’s an update if you care. I’ve migrated from America. Later, I fell for an Italian girl, whom I met in an Indian Passenger train.

15)I told Roshan- “I have a cruch on ‘Mayanti’.” He thought I said- “I have a crush on ‘My Aunty’.”

16)Wow, it’s true. My grandfather had a farm. Not on facebook.

17)I’ve been giving Roshan a lot of advices lately. He told me he wanted to become the best ‘Neurosurgeon’ in town. I told him to relax and take it easy, cos the day I break his head, then the only person who could save him would be ‘HIM’. Irony.

18)My computer makes all sorts of grunting sounds nowadays. I think the Mother board needs a father board.

19)Breaking News: During the match, Maradona burnt more calories than his players.

20)I watched a 20-20 game between Essex and Middlesex yesterday. I thought ‘Star Cricket’ was a family channel.

This is for you, if you are not exactly a Genius-






Well that’s it for now. See you. Take care. Be in the well. Don’t forget my first point. ;)

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In the name of- Updating my Blog..!! - 2

1) English heroes fight to save the world; Indian heroes, to save the hero-in. On this note, let me tell you that I watched a Tamil movie called “Sura”. Here, the hero saves the hero-in some four times, then gets busy saving his locality and then he finally goes on to save the villain's wife *touch* *blow your nose* *wipe your tears*. I strongly suggest this movie if you have a constipation problem.

2) I’d been to Ooty recently along with my family. The driver was a nice guy. He began the journey on a wonderful note by saying- “I’ve driven 18 people to death till date.”


3) Apparently, my friend’s dog has a crush on Swami Nithyananda. I guess it’s the hair style.

4) Guys, I’ve joined twitter. I have 45 followers out of which 3 of them use twitter. You can follow me if you like my sense of tumour. Link.


5) I know a few girls. They are called the ‘awwwwwwww’ girls.
I say- “I missed you so much.” ----- “awwwwwwww…..”
“You have a sweet voice.” ------ “awwwwwwww…..”
“A dog bit my bum.” ---- “awwwwwwww…”

What is this, I say??

6) Do not teach small children silly things. They go do that at home and worse, they tell their parents who taught them such crap. I mean, all I taught was to sing Jack and Jill in a classical tone.

7) I think cows have a soft corner for me. They brush their tail onto my face whenever I walk past them. Or, am I missing something? Are they slapping me?


8) My day starts with an ayurvedic drink. It makes me feel I’m drinking liquefied cow dung.


9) Life’s boring without Rakhi Sawanth. Where is she? Hey Rakhi, I want to see you get angry ya, please.


10) Ok, on a serious note, if you’ve read this post successfully (without breaking any glassware around you), thank you so much. I don’t deserve it, so to say. I haven’t read a blog in like a month.


Thanks guys. Take care. Hw have you all been doing? Leave a note. And btw, I don’t charge for a facebook friend request. So, here’s the link anyway- Facebook. I shall come up with a fiction soon. Until then, see ya. :)

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In the name of- Updating my Blog..!!

1) I’m not gonna eat ‘Smart Chips’, though it isn’t fried and in spite of Amir Khan endorsing it. Those chips are shaped like underwears.

2) Thanks to IPL, I’m a busy man. I’d be so glued to my television that if I was a married man, I wouldn’t have even noticed my wife leaving the house with her suitcases.

3) ‘Tear your shirt off and pull your hair off’ moments- You go to a restaurant to get your dinner packed. You place your order and wait endlessly doing non-sense with your cell phone. Fifteen minutes gone, you stand up and walk to the counter and ask- “Where’s my order?” Mr. Bean from the other side of the counter would give you a silly smile and say- “Just 5 mins, Sir.” Another 15 mins pass, and you transform into John Rambo and walk to the counter with anger dripping down your nose. Just when your throat readies itself to produce a thunder, tadaa, Mr. Bean hands you your food along with the bill. So, you shut your mouth and pat your pocket. “Damn! Forgot my wallet.” This episode is what I call- My Friday night.

4) I end up calling the Airtel Customer Care once in 2 weeks. I’m looking forward to make friends there. Ragini sounds cute. Kishore sounds like my father.

5) I want to be Rajnikanth in my next life.

6) Twice upon a time I wanted to be a cricketer. Then, once upon a time I wanted to be a cricketer. Now, I play cricket with my 4 year old niece.

7) I have the nose of a dog. I mean, I can smell that well. I can tell you what my neighbours had for breakfast today.

8) Just now, as I was thinking what point number 8 should be, my sister walks in. She shows me something and asks- “Howz this?” I say- “Nice Bangle.” She turns away hopelessly saying- “It’s an ear-ring.”

9) Back to cricket again (sorry for it though), I made it to the stadium for a couple of matches, screamed like crazy and ended up sounding like a crow on both the occasions.

10) Friendship after ‘love’ is crap.

11) I don’t mind a mosquito bite (unless of course I don’t fall and die at once of Malaria or something.) But the buzz it makes around my ear makes me want to murder those silly creatures.

12) I was thinking about my school days the other day. I remember, I had repeated an answer twice in the same paper, and when I got my answer script, it totaled to 102/100. My teacher scratched her head, and blindly gave me a 98.

13) How many celebrities have had a successful first marriage, uh? (Shut up, I’m not talking about that Tennis star who's famous for first round exits. Whats her name? Some Mirza right?)

14) I’m the worst singer ever. I recorded an emotional song the other day. During playback, I concluded, Cows sounded better.

15) I just checked the above 14 points, and wondered what a load of non-sense I am. Next time, I’ll try to show off my intellect. Don’t laugh.

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Roshan's back..!!

I jumped off the plane and found that my parachute wasn’t opening. No, in fact I was just knocking at Roshan’s door. I mean, that’s how it would feel standing there knowing that his mom would open the door. In just a few seconds the door cranked open treating my ears with a few silly noises. I would have been charred to death and instantly evaporated (due to ‘shock’), if it was someone other than his mom at the door. I mean only she had to open the door, at least to piss me off. Anyway, as usual she looked at me as if she had wasted her precious time just to open the door for me. She said- “He’s in the room. Sleeping” and vanished into the kitchen. I entered the hall and I felt this weird thought passing through my brain; I felt like I was playing ‘ball’ with a chimpanzee in an American zoo. Don’t ask for further explanations please. Then I noticed Roshan’s 8 year old brother sleeping on the sofa. I felt like watching a Lion making love with a deer. I mean, I never thought that was possible.

Finally I stepped into Roshan’s room and that idiot was sleeping too. I was kissing that chimpanzee by now. As I walked towards him to shake him up, I heard him talking in his sleep- “Sorry ma’am, I didn’t come to school because my grandfather died yesterday……. Oh Last week?? Errrrr… Oh ya, my grandmother died last week……… ohh is it? Then maybe it’s my grandmother’s sister…………” he went on. I thought about the job in hand; how to wake this guy up from sleep? Finally, I grabbed my cell phone and played one of Himesh Reshammia’s nasal growls and Roshan jumped out of his bed like a ghost. He stared at me, rubbed his eyes and said- “Oh, it’s you.”

“Yeah. What were you doing in school man? I thought you would be running around trees with that ‘Air Hostess’ girl.”

“What to do macha! Last night I was thinking about that day when we begged our School principal for attendance. You remember?”

“Yeah. But WE didn’t beg. It was YOU who begged and almost cried.” I reminded him.

“Shut up macha. Otherwise, he would have informed our parents about what we did that day.” He reminded me of things I had tried all my life to forget.

“Hey, how about we go meet them now? Our school teachers I mean. It’ll be nice after such a long time.”

“Get lost. No way.”

In ten minutes, we were in his car heading to school; he was driving and I was praying. He took a sharp right turn and my heart almost skidded towards my ribs. He was not a bad driver; he was a terrible driver. Just when I started thanking god that we were just a kilometer away from our destination, he applied brakes and brought the car to a sudden halt. He turned and stared at me with his round eyes. He looked like the male version of Rakhi Sawanth. He behaved like a pressure cooker, as though invisible steam blew out from his ears. I got scared; I got tensed. I recited my last prayers. I tested my lost voice and enquired- “What’s up? What happened?”

As though like the whistling of a cooker, he exhaled, hit me on my head and said- “Stupid. It’s Sunday today. The school will be closed.” He was right; I felt silly, I felt ashamed. I felt- like a Superman without powers; like a crow without wings; like James Bond posing without pants. On the other hand, Roshan’s face glowed victoriously, as though he had fought the war and won the princess.

Anyway, we just had to roam around the school, literally and head back home. In an hour, we were back at the door of his house waiting for his mom to open. As usual, she never disappoints. She stared hard at me and told Roshan- “One more time I see you wearing that T-shirt, I’ll not let you in.” I knew that was for me. As ever I didn’t care. If I’d cared, by now I would have invited you all for my tenth 'Death Day' celebrations. Anyway, I entered in and Roshan’s brother who had woken up by now was in full action like those dinosaurs in Jurassic Park. As usually he hurled his plastic monkey at me and I dodged it with perfection and grace. But I had enough for the day. I collected my bike’s keys and disappeared from there in 3.2 seconds.

“A day spent with Roshan is called a ‘Stupid-day’. It is also known as ‘Everyday’.”

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My Street's Ramayan..!!

In my street, there are two girls with the same name, both their dads bald and of course irritating. Both the Priyankas spent a lot of their high school days staring at me. Like all intelligent girls, they stopped it once I started staring back. Their dads, whom I suppose had an antenna fixed to their bald heads started receiving bad signals. Priyanka1’s dad, Mr. I-am-a-Disco-Dancer came to me one day and said “I know your dad very well.” The dumb fellow I was then, I thought – “so what?” Anyway, Priyanka2’s dad Mr. I-know-everything-other-than-what-my-daughter-is-doing wasn’t posing a problem. At least I thought so. P2’s mom wasted no time in setting her husband’s antenna right and since then, they never missed an opportunity to hurl very dirty looks at me. But man, it was too much. It was not that I had taken the girls out for a date or something. All I did was to just exhibit a small little, harmless, not-so-innocent smile. I do that with my neighbouring granny too (“not-so-innocent” doesn’t apply here). And more over, not that I see those Priyankas everyday. They are like our street’s VVIPs. You can’t catch them unless you fix a chair outside their gate and wait for them whole day long. Anyway, it’s been a long time now and I’m not interested in them at all. Thought of writing this after an incident that happened just this morning. Mr. I-am-a-Disco-Dancer crashed his 2-wheeler onto me. I didn’t fall. He fell. (Hope those antennas are broken now.)

Then to Mr. James Bond. Just opposite to my house, stays a young man of age 65. He rides a ‘Scooty Pep’ and wears a psychopath killer’s rain coat. He starts all his replies with- “No pa, it’s naat like that.” I can have a never ending conversation with him; the trick- I also start my reply with- “No uncle. It’s not like that.” It never ends, I tell you. Just last week, I had a Cricket discussion with him. He stated his theories on a few technical stuff and I bet if a professional cricketer had heard that, he would have committed a violent suicide. But he’s a nice man; he gifted me a blue Rain-coat and a wrist watch which had a Mickey-Mouse in it.



Then to my neighboring Granny. She is our street’s News agency. From who bought which television set to whose wife is pregnant, she knows it all. If there is one human being that I pity the most, it is her servant maid. Poor lady, I just hope at times, she was deaf and dumb. My mom talked to granny a couple of days back and brought me news that P1 is doing her MBA now. She also informed that P1’s dad, Mr. I-am-a-Disco-Dancer is a rich man. See, what all I get to hear and what all gets me tempted? :P

And finally, there is this tenant of ours, a newly married guy working in IBM. He thinks an earth-quake happens once in every week. He goes to work at 10 and is back by 5; doesn’t work from home. He gets a head massage every Sunday because he thinks he is stressed out. His wife doesn’t know anything but hindi; my mom hardly knows any hindi; when both of them talk I’d rather get a packet of pop-corn, throw all the movie CDs aside, sit and enjoy.

Anyway, now I’ll throw the ball into your court. Any interesting neighbors?? Any interesting characters?? Do share.

Until next time- yenjoyyy. ;)

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When I was SULTAN..!!

“Every day I get to hear some or the other forts falling into his hands. I don’t care what you do, Afzal Khan, my friend, I want him dead.” I said with an angry face, loud voice and a wicked smile.

I was in class 5 when it struck to my parents that they needed to make me Mr. Nice Boy. My mom turned to her colleagues, her Google search, for suggestions. It wouldn’t ‘shock’ me if I’d kissed an electric pole, but it certainly would if her colleagues didn’t have a suggestion to offer or an opinion to share. So, as expected, they sprung into action and suggested a ‘Personality Development’ camp which was to be held far outside the city. Talking about those colleagues, someday I will shoot them and go to jail surely. Anyway, about the camp; we had to camp in for 10 days; we would be woken up at 4 and made to lift our hands and legs; I mean, we were taught yoga. A little of cleaning, praying, eating, sleeping, bhajan-ing fabricated the rest of the day. It was after dinner (at 6.45 pm) that the actual fun began; things like plays and dances. We were split into groups and I fell into a group called ‘Shivaji’. Our group had four guys (including me) and three girls, one of which I would name Miss. Stare, would stare at me at a rate of 30 glances per minute. I didn’t like her.

“I will bring him dead in 24 hours, Sultan” Afzal Khan, who resembled a skeleton promised, bowing down. “I’ll look forward to it my friend” I patted on his cane-like back and let out an evil look. Miss Stare made a signal to me that I had to leave the stage for Chatrapathi Shivaji to enter. I didn’t like her at all.

“I wand you to read this book gombletely today” our group’s new instructor announced in a Mallu accent and handed over the mini-sized book on Shivaji. We gombletely read the book and waited for him the next day. He examined each of us top to bottom; shameless I say. It took him 2.6 seconds to decide that I should be the villain, The Sultan Of Bijapur. The skeleton guy became Afzal Khan and the other became Shivaji. I objected- “Sir, this Shivaji is just half of me.” He showed us that he had a smile and said- “ You dond worry. Shivaji should be simble.” Miss Stare giggled at me until she learned about her part in the play; she along with another girl had to escort the Sultan of Bijapur ( that’s me) to my chair. I explored options as to how best I could piss her off, but ultimately satisfied myself with a teeth-exhibiting smile. This girl gets on my nerves. Anyway, the practice began in full swing. I practiced my dialogues and evil looks outside kitchens, outside toilets, everywhere. Shivaji practiced killing while I and Dr. Skeleton practiced dying.

“Not with me Afzal Khan” Shivaji punctured Afzal’s chest with his cardboard knife, and headed straight to the Sultan Of Bijapur, who was rejoicing with his girls.

The day had come and it was time for me to enter the dais. I wore someone’s churidhar, had a yellow colored half-moon painted on my forehead, tied a cloth around my waist, pushed my wooden sword through it and walked to my chair with the two girls escorting me. I had to walk like a chess champion, as though I had to think deep about my next step. Doing so, I reached the big chair and sat but immediately jumped out like a spring. That damn sword was poking. So got up, pulled it out and then sat. I could notice even the last row of people laughing like mad dogs. But I was a man, whose heart was made of steel. I sprung up, blasted my dialogues blowing off a few ear-drums thereby killing all the surrounding laughter and restored pin-drop silence in the hall (of around 150 people). Afzal Khan walked in wearing something resembling a frock, but again, a man made of steel wouldn’t giggle, so I grabbed the opportunity to shut up; then continued with my dialogues and exited with ultimate grace. My part was surely a hit, I thought. Only thing remaining for me was to get killed by that tiny little Shivaji.

“How dare you try to kill me” Shivaji tripped my foot, held me with my back resting on his arm and pushed his knife into my chest. That was it; I had kicked the bucket; I was dead.

Shivaji was supposed to drop me on to the ground gently but just before he could do that I heard him grasping for breath- “ Hey, oaahhh.. I am not able to hold on…aaaa…” even before he could complete it, let his hands off me and I fell real hard on to the ground. bloody damn idiot.. I wondered what an irony it would create if I got up and killed him. But anyway, the great fall incidentally turned out to be the best part of the play; a blood-pumping action scene.

Later as I was exiting the stage, I observed Miss. Stare laughing like she hadn’t for a decade. God, I hated her.

P.S- Unfortunately, nobody took photographs of the play that day. Leave alone snaps, that damn place did not have a single mirror for me to even see how I looked.

P.P.S- My parents' colleagues are still a pestering lot. What to do??

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Stupidity Paradise..!!

It was as much as a week ago when I rubbed my eyes as it almost popped out like pop-corn when I noticed Roshan turning the ‘volume’ knob to the left. Apparently it wasn’t one of those songs where guys with long hair rattled their lungs out or put aged hearts into mouths. Instead, it was an old, romantic, soothing number. Since I am not consecrated with super natural powers, this sudden change in him was tough to digest. I mean, it felt as weird as going to a call center and not finding an Indian. Anyway, this was all just the beginning; beginning of a possible hassle.
Since there hasn’t been a single crisis over the whole of last week; in other words, since Roshan has been out of contact, we guys at college have egressed into a consensus that if it wasn’t for Roshan, the Nobel Peace prize bore no meaning. I mean, such was the vagary of his mind. Anyway, since life without a crisis is no life, the guys nominated me as their representative for the onerous job of visiting Roshan’s place and evaluating his recent abnormal behavior. Why was I selected specially for this job?? I’ll tell you later.

I put my bike to the side and knocked at door. Roshan’s mom greeted me with tilted lips and curved eye-brows. I transformed myself like lord Rama and greeted her with a wobbling voice and a sweet smile- “Hello aunty.”

“Hello.” She said plainly, exhibited a thousand expressions, enquired her regular doubt- “You take bath with water or perfume?” and vanished into the kitchen with a disgusting face. Since I was the most equipped and experienced in handling her, I was sent on this mission. Got an idea? Anyway, I entered the hall and spotted Roshan’s 5 year old brother; he was busy breaking a tiger’s leg (plastic one of course), singing along- “Inki Pinki Ponky… His father was a donkey…” He noticed me and hurled a plastic monkey which just missed my forehead. I would have whacked him if he was my own brother. Meanwhile I could hear Roshan from the bathroom, singing some silly song of the 90s. There was something spiritual playing in the kitchen. With all this 3D effect getting on to my nerves, I made a mental note to visit the doctor later in the evening. Just as I was getting too pissed off, like how goddesses emerge from the mist, Roshan walked out from the bathroom. Such an inchoate idiot he is, he almost walked away without noticing me. I had to hurl that plastic monkey on him to grab his eye-balls. He returned an expression which reminded me of old movies where the heroes realized just before the movie ended that they were actually brothers after which followed a whole lot of hugging and stuff.

In ten minutes, Roshan came all dressed up, drowned inside his loose shirt and cargos. I stood waiting for his mom’s comment and she never disappoints. “You look like a rag picker” she said and again vanished. Finally a cup of coffee arrived which we emptied in no time. Me and Roshan decided to do the ‘walk the talk’ thing, so decided to leave. I waved ‘good-bye’ to aunty and she returned the wave with some kind of looks which I couldn’t comprehend. Then to Mr. 5yr old, I pinched his cheeks and said- “Byee..” He hurled his plastic tiger right on to my face. I am a gentleman, I didn’t retaliate.

Within a few minutes we were on to the streets strolling along checking out all kinds of stuff. After discussing various other issues of national importance, we came to the topic at hand- “What happened to you? Haven’t been to college? Cell phone’s always busy? Don’t say it’s a girl..”

“That’s exactly what it is.” Roshan smiled like Mr. Pepsodent.

“Oh my god! Where, who, when, how?” I stuttered.

“It all started when her dog barked and almost bit me on the road side,” he felt shy and continued- “I realized it was her dog when she saved me from it. That’s how it all started.”

“You shameless fellow. We’ll see you in college tomorrow right?”

“No dude. I have plans with her. I’m gonna take her out.”

“Where?”

“Surprise.” He said which pissed me off to the core. He noticed my threatening looks and said sheepishly- “Planetarium.” He smiled and continued- “Better than a movie na? It will atleast be informative.”
I controlled myself from bashing my head to the electric pole or indulging in any sort of violent activities such as pulling off my own hair or anything. I am basically a diplomatic person.

Through the walk, he said this and that, that and this. My legs started to ache, mind started to wander and that’s when I balked his non-stop talk and arrived at an accord- “See you tomorrow.”



It was 9am in the class, next day. I had recited the story to one and all. All were as much stunned as happy that Roshan now had a girlfriend. Just then, against all expectations, Roshan came rushing through, wearing a sad face. He came straight to me and sulked- “Dude, it’s over. She’s gone?”

“What the hell? Why?”

“She called me this morning and said her dog went missing. She was sad.”

“What did you do?”

“I conveyed my condolences,” he paused and continued- “ but before that……”

“What? What did you do?”

“The dog that almost bit me is gone man. Of course I laughed.”

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Saami... Murugan Saami..!!

(On one of those occasions when I give 'logic' and 'reasoning' a complete rest and let my mind free into a world of fun and silliness, such would be the outcome. Disclaimer- All the names and characters used here are only with intentions of evoking humor and nothing else.

So for now, just sit back and yenjoyyyyy. :P)


Murugan flipped aside his English-daily Newspaper and decided to take a nap under the Banyan tree. He shooed away the silly dog which was licking his shoulder and rested his head on the newspaper, his regular pillow, and stretched his legs. Just when he was about to shut his eyes, as though he’d spotted sunlight during mid-night, he jumped up and observed his assistant Kuppusaami accompanying a foreigner, a white attractive woman heading towards him. “I’m the only person to know English in Vellapatti” Murugan rejoiced. Kuppusaami indicated the need of an English-speaking person through his Gateway-Of-India (his broken teeth, I mean) and Murugan obliged.

“Hello Sir. I’m Alicia Morgan from the United Kingdom. I’m here on a survey, and the Indian culture has totally absorbed me.” The woman smiled and extended her hand for a hand-shake.

Murugan scratched his head and whispered to Kuppusaami- “Dai Kuppusaami, Murugan weds Morgan, yeppidi da irukku (how does it sound)?” Kuppusaami opened the gates of his Gateway-Of-India all over again.
Murugan came back to his senses, wiped and extended his hand after checking if anyone was around and they shook hands.

“I’m Murugan. Murugan Saami (Saw-me).”

“Good. Where did he see you?”

“Ayyo no. I said, my name is Murugan Saami.” he blushed like a girl. Alicia Murugan Saami …...

“Oh! Glad to meet you Mr. Murugan.” She clicked a picture of him and the dog.

“In Vellapatti, I am thalai (Head). I have nilam (land). I have nariya nariya (abundant) kaasu (money). All Vellapatti ponnus (girls) want to kalyanam (marry) me.”

“Sorry Mr. Murugan, but I don’t understand your language.”

“Ayyo, it’s vokay. No praablam. In Vellapatti, Subramani Saami married Mumtaz Begum. For them also language praablam. But happy family. 2 children also.”

“What?”

“Why?” he gave it a thought and continued- “Your father is strict aa?”

Alicia turned around and walked away.

Edited- Will Be Continued....as different episodes.. :)....

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Sleep Until You Go To Bed..!!

(Going through a 50-50 writer's block, whatever that is. Not been able to write freely nowadays. I guess it shows as well. Anyway, pardon me if it's bad. But shtill, as i always say- Yenjoyy :P )


1.55pm, at my place.

I woke up to a brassy thud of my main door one week day. I strained my eye-balls to the corners of the eye to catch the clock but in vain. If you din’t know- laziness finds its nest in me ; I’m lazy in everything except in ‘being lazy’. So the question in hand was- how would I check the time, without actually doing as strenious a thing as lifting-my-head-and-rotating-it-towards-the-clock?

I set out with my analysis-

2 thuds per-day – both by Dad – morning or lunch time? – not morning, I couldn’t smell a Body Spray – so- lunch time – 1.30 to 2 – Dad’s office is 5 mins away - The time is 1.55 pm. I’ve slept for 14 hours – record-breaking stuff. Wow..!!

My phone vibrated like a ghost from under the pillow. – “Hello!” I sounded alert.

“Dude, me Roshan. Where are you?” You Idiot

“I’m in the Indian Institute of Science (IISc) preparing the software part of our project work.”

“That’s great. I’m in NIIT - ‘Networking’ class.” Bullshit

“That’s great!”

“I’ll meet you in an hour in IISc.” Get lost

“Nope. I’ll meet you in NIIT in an hour.” I announced putting my vocal chords into unnecessary strain.

“Nope. Let the place be Barista.” He finalised.

As I put down the phone, I raised my left hand to fetch the TV remote. Rambo on Star Movies. Perfect! With my slothful right hand I fetched the cold-coffee which I suppose would have been Hot-coffee when it was kept there. Anyway, when people (like my fat neighbouring aunty) ask me questions like- “ Don’t you exercise? How bad?” and stare at me disgustingly, I have a few ready-made words- “ I meditate for 14 hours followed by some finger exercises ( with my TV remote), then my arms ( by moving it to and fro, in and out of my mouth), my neck ( which shuffles repetitively between the TV screen and the coffee mug) and finally my legs ( basically by stretching them).”

Anyway, as the movie was interrupted with commercials of a tooth-paste-with-salt thing, I decided to head to the bathroom in search of my tooth brush.



1.55pm, at Roshan’s place.

“Bah bah black sheep, hav………..” he sang, abrupty paused and sprung out of bed like a clown. He threw a glance at the clock and yawned. “I’ve slept for 16 hours straight. Wow!” he told himself and continued- “ my dream… oh.. my dream… “ he tried to recollect. After 120 seconds, his bulb glowed when he could picture his abruptly ended dream- 3 ghosts with invisible bottoms surrounded him, manufacturing scary faces at him. Just then, a saint entered from nowhere ( like Rajnikanth) chanting- “Omm Sai Baba …. Omm Sai Baba..” He rested his arms over Roshan’s shoulder and adviced- “ My boy, chant a bhajan to praise Baba and he will take care of the ghosts.” Wasting no time, Roshan began- “ Ba-Ba Black sheep…..” and that’s when he woke up.

Anyway, he came back to the real world and retrieved a cup of tea which was placed on his book/tea-stand. He found his phone and dialled-

“Hello?”

“Dude, me Roshan. Where are you?” he enquired.

“I’m in the Indian Institute of Science (IISc) preparing the software part of our project work.” Bullshit

“That’s great. I’m in NIIT - ‘Networking’ class.”

“That’s great!” You dumb-head

“I’ll meet you in an hour in IISc.”

“Nope. I’ll meet you in NIIT in an hour.” Get lost


“Nope. Let the place be Barista.”




1 Hour Later

Barista was empty enough at 3 in the afternoon. A few tables were occupied though, with couples trialing each other’s faces. I found a seat, ordered some weird-named coffee and stared at good looking faces indiscriminately. Meanwhile Roshan rushed in hurriedly and sat facing me. He hooked his eye-brow and asked- “ IISc?”
I nodded and copied his hooking-the-eye-brow-thing and shot back- “NIIT?”
He nodded and looked away. Letting a few minutes of silence go by, I looked at him, bounced my eye-brows as if to ask him- “What?” for which he returned a half-closed eye. With all this non-sense, a third eye could easily mistake us for two dons finalising a murder or something. Anyway, another minute of silence passed and I cleared my throat and asked- “ How long?”

“What ‘how long’?”

“Ok. Me 14 hours.” I winked.

“Yup. Me 16 hours.”

“damn…” we lifted our mugs.

“Sometimes we stay up so late that we have our morning coffee just before we go to bed.”

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Kids..... Ouchh..!!

I banged my foot on the ground thrice "bang .. bang … bang.." as I saw my neighbor, an old lady with her 8 year old grandson at the door. I drew the latch in ‘action replay’ mode, more so like the way old bollywood couples ran in slow motion before they hugged each other. As I opened the door, a breeze hit me and ‘warning’ alarms went off inside my head. The granny adjusted her glasses and smiled. I spotted her only tooth (well known as Gate Way of India) and recollected that it actually resembled- ‘The Leaning Tower of Pisa’. So many monuments inside the jewel box. Amazing! Anyway, my eyes then shifted to her grandson, who wore blue colored shorts, the size of my hand kerchief. He too had just one tooth visible in the 'Gandhi class' (I mean front row), as he squeezed through in-between my legs into the house.

“I’m going to the market now. Can I leave Pintu here for a while?” the granny enquired.

Granny always gave me an expression of someone like a modern Mother Teresa or something, and that sent a litre of ‘good will’ into my heart (take note- my weak point), hence I replied- “Go ahead. I will look after Pintu.” I mean, after all, normal human beings can commit blunders.

I shut the door and initiated a ‘search operation’ for this boy Pintu. ‘The period of time that Pintu is out of sight’ is directly proportional to ‘Danger’. Could you guess that I love Physics? Good. Anyway, I continued with the ‘search operation’, like a hunter. I rubbed my eyes twice and discovered that Pintu was sitting on my bed, both legs and arms folded and mainly SILENT. I almost saw Swamy Vivekananda in him, when I discovered something below him. I approached him tardily as if I was there to catch a snake. I stared hard at that thing, and realized it was my laptop. I zoomed my eyes towards it and got further horrified when I noticed his blue colored shorts reflecting a darker shade now. “Oh Lord, this guy has no ‘nappy’ and he has pissed on my ‘lappy’,” I screamed inside my head, not in a mood to adore the poetic skills in me.

It took me an hour for the entire cleaning process to terminate as Pintu sat and watched ‘Cartoon Network’. God bless the founder of cartoons. “Children are like God” I reminded myself and tried to be Mr.Kind as I went into the kitchen to prepare some ‘corn-flakes’ for my dearest Pintu. I heated the milk, put some ‘Kelloggs corn-flakes’ into the bowl and glanced at Jnr.Danger. He was trying his vandalism skills over today’s newspaper, but that was nothing, so I counted 1 to 10, took a deep breath and stirred the mixture. As and when it was ready, I brought the bowl to the hall but to find that my hero was out-of-sight. The physics equation resounded with echoes somewhere deep inside me. I crawled slowly into my room, but I was too unlucky, couldn’t find him. A few precious seconds wasted, I then walked slowly into the other room, stood at the entrance and scanned through the room but found no one. There was complete silence; life-threatening silence. Like a flash, as though like in the ghost movies, “bhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…” he screamed and jumped from behind the door to the front of me leaving me terrified and cold. I almost had my foot in my mouth for a second. “hahaha… you got scared..” he vanished into the hall.

I prayed to god, recited a few ‘mantras’ and proceeded into the hall and sat next to him. “Children are like God..” I controlled myself by repeating it again and again as though like a malfunctioning tape-recorder. In the meanwhile, he trekked over to me, stood over my lap and stared long and hard at my face like a scientist examining viruses. I stuck my tongue down and returned a few silly expressions. After his research he came uncomfortably close to my face and asked- “Anna (brother), why do you have a moustache?” and tried to pluck at it. “Aaaahhhhhh…” I howled, put him over the sofa, stood and shouted at him- “Shut up.” He looked with his eyes opened wide as I went on – “ Fold your hands………. Close your mouth…Don’t open that mouth and don’t move.. Just sit.” I slid next to him, grabbed at the corn-flakes bowl, scooped it with a spoon and held it before his mouth. My dearest of dearest Pintu wouldn’t open his mouth (as his master had instructed) .. damn… “You can open your mouth to eat.,” I said aimlessly. Once he opened his jewel box, I put the spoon into it but my hero wouldn’t close it (the instruction was to only open the mouth, remember). I didn’t cry, nor did I pull the hair off my head but just stared with hooked eye-brows at the ceiling.



Just when I thought I needed a trip to the brain doctor, my eyes got filled with the sight of a goddess glowing away through the window holding colorful flowers in her hands, ringing my door bell wanting to introduce me to the staff members up above. No, I just saw Granny. She walked in and said with a tooth-exhibiting smile- “ Hope Pintu didn’t trouble you,” and I almost began to search the number to call the brain doctor but decided to just return a simple smile. She carried Pintu, who was now having his corn-flakes on his own. damn kid..
The feeling of subtracting a ton of weight from my heart commenced when she said to her Pintu- “Say bye to anna..” The intelligent boy dropped the bowl of corn-flakes (which landed and splashed straight on my lap) and waved good-bye to me. Granny apologized and left taking away her thunder-like grandson. I headed to the bathroom for part-2 of the cleaning work. My shorts this time.

Children are fun and lovely, but man- “Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go.”

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The Evolution of the Snake dance!! - Stephen

Once upon a time in blogpur,an incident occurred which was scripted in history.This led to the emergence of a new dance form.It was the time when the humans and the beasts were amongst the best buddies.It was the era of friendship and where cultural civilization was too far .The time period encountered various events which is devoid to today's generation.This hasn't been mentioned in history .
In blogpur, humans and the snake community lived together in harmony.Snakes never hissed and humans never danced.This ancient historic event took place ages ago during the reign of Prince Arjuna,the great ruler of the Choudary kingdom.
Prince Arjuna had a special liking for dance and hunting.Dancing and Hunting are not directly related to each other .He was the only person who was skilled with the art of 'Nrutya'.He was modest and humble.He was benevolent.His ministry comprised of highly talented ministers like Bahadur Sunil,Vaidya Riya,Intelligent Richa and many more.Snakes were friendly and intelligent unlike humans.Saapo,the president of the Snake community was malicious and was against the humans .He didn't want the humans to mingle with the snakes.
"Prince Arjuna,I won't let you rule our dynasty," Saapo,the snake screamed in front of the snake community members.
"I'm planning an attack on the humans ,"he added.
"But, great , humans are supposed to be snakes' best friends, aren't they?," Junior Saapo said.
"I don't give a damn about it, my target is Prince Arjuna," Saapo was furious.

Meanwhile Prince Arjuna of the Royal Choudary family was getting ready for his dance classes.He bowed down in front of his mother to seek her blessings.
"Ammo,me want to develop unity amongst the snake and the humans," he said to his mother.
"Lord Shiva,bless me," he prayed to god.

Saapo overheard all this."Unity between snake and humans,my foot," he said.
He soon thought for a while and churned out a reason from his wicked mind.
"I will see you in Panchayat ,Prince," he gave a wicked smile.

The next day Panchayat was called and all biggies of the blog world including Chronic writer,Solitary writer,Busy writer,Pink Orchid and Yem bee Aye were called.
"May I know the reason for the panchayat,"Prince Arjuna asked Saapo.
"I don't support your selfish attitude," Saapo replied.
"What are you talking ,Saapo? make sense," the prince replied.

"I don't advocate this idea of yours," Saapo,the snake replied.
"Abhey Langoor ke aulad ," the prince got annoyed.
"Why don't you take our snakes with you and teach them the dance ," Saapo said.
"We want justice," Saapo added.

Prince Arjuna didn't have any answer for this question of Saapo.
The Panchayati Samiti soon arranged a meeting.Chronic writer,Solitary writer,Busy writer,Pink Orchid and Yem bee Aye attended the meeting.
"Well ,what is the appropriate solution guys?," Chronic writer said.
"We should ask Arjuna to teach the Snakes," Pink Orchid replied.
"Naa,wait ,We should have a contest between Arjuna and Saapo,a dance contest,"Solitary Writer said.
"I second Solitary writer,we should have some sort of dance contest guys," Yem bee yae smiled.
"But Saapo said snakes don't know dance," Chronic writer said.
"He is a liar Chrony,I've seen Saapo doing rain dance many times," Busy writer said to her team.
"So,there will be a contest between both the parties ,hmm,interesting guys,"Chronic writer giggled.
"Who will be our judge?,"Chronic writer added.
"Lets call Farah Khan and Saroj Khan," Busy writer winked.
"Naa,lets get some guys from our field,call our techie "Saif"," Solitary writer said with a smile.
Saif,the techie for the community was called.He was a scientist and his inventions were famous.It is said that few of his inventions were modified by Sir Isaac Newton as at that era there were no provision of Copyright and Patents.

Saif was made to get in few bloggers from the 21st century with the help of his time machine. The samitee decided to call Ste,Sandeep Balan,Priyanka and Bharghav.
They even called blog fame Leo and Aarthi to host the contest.
Both Prince Arjuna and Saapo agreed to the accord and contest dates were announced.

A week later the contest started. People from "Simply me" ,"Conjuring Kreativity","Pragmatic Utopia"," Illusions","More Orangee","Chemerical thoughts"," Where words are thoughts" and many had come to witness this unique event.
The dance floor was arranged.
"Guys ,its a unique battle between the snakes and the human community," hosts Leo and Aarthi announced.
"We have Sandeep Balan,Ste,Priyanka and Bharghav Saika as our judges for todays contest," Aarthi said.
"It's an important event guys,if humans win,then snakes will lose their ability to stand erect and speech.If snakes win,then humans will lose their ability to speak and think," Leo said.

Prince Arjun and Saapo looked at each other with anger.
"There will be 2 rounds.Fast songs will be played in the first round and Slow songs will be played in the second round.Each judge will give you 25 points and the game will be decided by the scores out of 200 after end of round 2," Leo and Aarthi said.

"Lets start the show," the judges said in unison.
Prince Arjuna came to dance. He twined his body in all possible directions. He danced for 5 minutes.

"Aila,man Arjuna dancing hip hop," Sandeep Balan said to the other judges.
The judges were highly impressed with Arjuna's performance.

"Arjuna,something was missing daa,I am still finding it out, so I give you 21 out of 25,"Priyanka said.
"24 for you da ,no comments simply amazing," Ste gave him a standing ovation.
"22 for you,as Pri said some elements were missing," Sandeep Balan said.
"14 for you ,no expressions,no entertainment ,no excitement," Bharghav said to the prince.

The hosts next called Saapo ,the snake.
The snake was dancing pretty aggresively.He was performing continous movements.
"God,the snake is doing rock and roll," Bhargav grinned.
"23 for you Saapo,you rock," Priyanka said.
"24 for you,superb expressions and aggresions Saapo," Ste said.
"25 for the cute Saapo,god bless you," Sandeep Balan said.
"25 for you.Everything was perfect.Had a perfect feast," Bharghav said.

"So at the end of the first round Prince Arjuna is 81 and Saapo is 97," the anchors said and everyone cheered for Saapo.

It seemed the human race was about to lose the contest.It would be a humiliating defeat.Everyone from the human community encouraged and cheered for their dance representative Prince Arjun.

The second round started and Prince Arjuna came to dance.
He was better than the previous round.He performed some dance.
"24 for you ,perfect fete for us," Priyanka said.
"24 ,you were dancing well this time," Ste said.
"25,I'm impressed ," Sandeep Balan said.
"25,was a delight for us,I will write a review about this dance of yours," Bhargav gave him a standing ovation.

Saapo was over confident and he slipped while dancing.This reflected in his marks.
"10,Sorry," Priyanka refused to speak a word.
"11,didn't accept this," Ste said.
"10,disappointed," Sandeep said with a straight face.
"10," Bhargav said.

"So total after round 2 is different.Prince Arjuna gets 179 and Saapo gets 138," the hosts smiled.
Prince Arjuna laughed and screamed.Saapo was clearly disappointed.His face exhibited his frown.The snakes lost their ability to sense and stand erect.Prince Arjuna rolled on the floor and gigled.
"Snake dance ,Snake dance!," The judges were stunned.

"And thats how snake dance came into existence," Arjun Choudary, the great great grandson of Prince Arjuna said to his other blogger friends.
Arjun Choudary was an expert snake dancer and he used to teach Sandeep Malan sir in his acting school.

"Wow!,so you guys created history ,eh!," the blogger friends said in unison.
"Yes,"Arjun said to his friends with pride.

----------End-----------

To Arjun,
hmm,finally I get to write something for my partner in crime.Partner in crime is what I call him.This is because we both are experts in this field of humour.We love and enjoy writing humour.You rock daa.You are "the humour king" . Hope you write more such beautiful posts and I will be glad to see you back in action.

(From Arjun - When you tell a crazy person to go crazy, wat happens? Such a post happens.. hehe :P ... Thanks for writing this piece bro. I've started Snake dancing classes at my place. You can join in if u r rich enuf.. :P )

Regards,
The Solitary Writer.

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First Meeting..!!

( Hey ppl, jus wanna remind that the stories I write and the characters in them are completely fictional. It applies to all the stories I’ve written till date and so with this post. Please pardon me for the exaggeration (in the posts). Forget logics to enjoy. Enjoy)

7am, at my place.

“Today is your first day of college. College is a temple for students, you are not supposed to…..” my dad continued as I sat wondering which of my dozen blue coloured jeans should I be wearing. Dad went on, as I ran to the kitchen, had a mini breakfast and promised dad that I would follow all what he said, though I wasn’t sure of what he had said. I hurried to the college with a ‘suffocating to death experience’ in the crowded bus.

7am. Roshan’s place.

Flouroscent green coloured shirt, which he had bought for Diwali, a navy blue trouser, in front of a mirror, Roshan set his hair and said- “ Wah!” He ran to the white house, to finish his SOS call. “ Stomach upset? On the first day of college? Damn” he shouted at the walls. After duty, he walked back to his dressing table, combed again, flipped the comb away, feeling like a south indian hero, he announced- “Look out girls, I’m coming.” He jumped onto his ‘second-hand’ Scooty and sped to college, realising that his earlier trip to the white house ensured that he would reach college late.

At the classroom, 15 minutes into the first hour.

I yawned while Roshan entered the corridors like a vagrant, realizing that he was already running late by 15 minutes to the class. As he approached the classroom, he noticed a bald headed professor addressing the class. The professor announced- “Now that I’ve told you about this college and it’s history, I’ll tell you something about myself. I’m Prof. T.H Narayan.” I couldn’t hold back my itchy feel to comment- “T.H Narayan, better known as- Three Hairs Narayan.” Few girls laughed while a few nerds made faces of disgust. Roshan, from the door interrupted and asked in express speed-“Excuse me Saaar, Can I please get in Saaar?” and smiled like Shilpa Shetty. “Why are you late, my boy? This is the first class of your course and you are late?” Prof. T.H Narayan looked worried more so with his zany outfit. Roshan had a readymade answer- “ Tyre puncture Saar” not realising that the excuse was as old as ‘rotten bread’. Prof. Narayan, who was a BP patient, counted 1 to 10 in his mind, exhaled deeply and said out of helplessness- “Get in, but don’t repeat it.”

Most girls in the class recognized Roshan and made strange faces at his very sight. He found a seat on the third bench. “Dude, you look like a door-to-door salesman” my mouth was hard to shut. I continued- “ a salesman who sells socks?” looked around and winked- “ or frocks?” but anyway nobody laughed, so I realised it was a PJ and I had to shut up.



Roshan sat lost, dreaming about god-knows-what when he received another SOS call to the white house. His stomach started to churn. It was making strange grunting noises. The Professor continued- “Last year, when Mr. Bill Gates was here, I invited him to my house to show my…”

“Toilet” Roshan stood up. “Saaar, urgent toilet. Please let me go.”

Prof. Narayan counted 1 to 10 in his mind, exhaled deeply and calmly said- “Go. Get lost.” Roshan ran to the loo, while the professor explained to the students as to how the whole chain of his thoughts break if any one student interrupts the whole class. Anyway, after the small lecture, he began again with- “Last year, when Mr. Bill Gates was here, I invited him to my toilet…….that stupid boy….…I am extremely sorry students…Last year, when Mr. Bill Gates was here, I invited him to my house”

“Can I come Sir?” Roshan asked sheepishly from the door. “I mean, can I come into the class, Sir?” he repeated. Once again, Prof. Narayan did his counting and cynically allowed him into the class. I couldn’t control my laughter nor my ever rattling mouth- “Fully downloaded uh?” i said and giggled away. Roshan did settle down in his seat but was feeling really uncomfortable. He was doomed to visit the loo all over again now. Prof. Narayan for the third time, again continued- “Last year, when Mr. Bill Gates was here, I invited him to my house to see my house. He knows my wife well because of her involvement in charity work and asked if he could take her along with him to my...”

“Toilet” Roshan stood again and said- “Saar, need to go to the toilet again.Urgent toilet Saar”

Prof. T.H Narayan who was a BP patient did no longer control himself, he almost pulled off those three hairs that was left in him, grabbed his ink pen, aimed and flung it towards Roshan and ran towards him.

Now, I wonder- That same fellow is Roshan, my buddy. ‘Fate’ was drunk when it noticed me, I guess.

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Oh.. Not Again..!!

One Sunday evening, on a Black ‘Ford’.

“Which one of the two routes, Sir?” the driver turned behind.

“Which one’s better? The one under construction or the one under repair?” I was interested.

“Both equal, Sir. Equally bad.”

“Ok. Take us through the road which would make passengers bump into co-passengers.” I winked.

Akshata, who was seated beside me, poked me in my ribs. The driver showcased his smile through the rear view mirror. Akshata peered through the window as the sun reached the top of the tallest building. I sat quiet observing her, unaware that I wore a thin smile on my face. She turned to me and said- “You want to tell me something, don’t you?”
She had flawless antennae when it came to sensing my emotions. I smiled and enquired the driver- “How far from here? The airport?”

“Another 15 minutes, Sir.”

“I asked you something mister,” she pinched me on my stomach.

“2 long years. I’ll miss you.” I said as she held my hand.

He ran across the street, jumping over dividers and pavements in search of another auto rickshaw. Those fifteen or so drivers, who had turned down the lift, threw glances of amazement- “You…… and … Airport??” He ran, ran and ran. He ran for his life.

I retrieved the not yet sampled newspaper from the front seat, and read out from the sports column- “Thumping win for India against the fighting Pakistanis.”

“I feel like crying.”

“Why? Are you a Pakistan supporter?”

“No idiot. I’ll be missing you and this place for the next two years. I wish I could stay.”

“Oh. Don’t worry, time will fly.”

He, on his mad run, hit a stone, tripped and bumped straight into a tall, thick mustached person. A kind of person who wears khakis and makes a lot of money- A Policeman. After some begging and some ‘wallet shaving’, he continued his run. He ran, ran and ran. He ran for his life.

Akshata attempted to pull this tried and tested game over me- “That guy, your neighbour. He’s hot man. But I noticed a wedding ring today, did you notice that?”

“I don’t notice such things.”

“You guys do it when it’s an attractive woman.”

“Nonsense.” But true.

He stormed into a florist shop, and selected a nice bunch of red, fresh, water sprinkled flowers. He shoved the flowers inside his jacket and scampered to the bus station in hope to find a bus to the airport. As he waited, he drew the flowers, rehearsed his lines and sneezed as the flowers tickled his nose. Minutes ticked, when he realised this was going to serve him no good and decided to run and run as though avoiding the electric chair.

Meanwhile I had a secret conversation with the driver, where I told him to retrieve the bouquet from the glove box, as soon as the car comes to a halt outside the airport terminal. Akshata trying to catch our conversation interrupted- “What does the driver want?”

“Your phone number.”

“Why do I ask you questions?”

“No clue.” I twisted my lips.

He was breathing heavily now, one, for the reason that he was running like he had ants in his pants and two, for the reason that the ‘Moment’ had arrived. He put an eye in search of a black ‘Ford’.”

The car cut across from the main road and headed straight towards a relatively empty airport terminal at this hour. As the car moved closer and closer, Akshata grabbed my palms and rubbed it soothingly mumbling words in a thin voice- “I’ll miss u dear. I don’t wanna go…”
The car came to a halt and the driver as instructed, pushed the flower bouquet into my hands and slid out of the car. Akshata looked in amazement, as I held her hand and moved the bouquet gently into her soft palms and said – “ Akshata, I think you know it. I’m madly in love with you. Love you da. Miss you baby.” I saw tears trickling down her cheeks as she grabbed me and hugged me tight with her head resting on my shoulder- “ Love you too da. Love you too.” She wiped her tears.

Just then, we heard a knock on the window, and on lowering the glass, we were exposed to a person, with a flower bouquet in his extended arms. He went on to say- “Sorry Akshata, but I love you. Love you, love you, love you.”



I bent down, to investigate the face of this new Mr.Spoilsport and got drowned in shock as my mouth went dry- “ Hey ..r.r.r…. Roshan..”

P.S - Okay, people new to this blog may not get the Roshan thing at the end. Apologies ;)

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Train Companion..!!

“When I die, I want to go peacefully like my Grandfather did, in his sleep -- not screaming, like the passengers in his car.”

“Hoooo…hahahah..” laughed….. coughed……… laughed………. coughed harder… Man, I was having the time of my life.

It was a small town which was on view through the caged windows of the train, as it retarded in speed before coming to a halt. I resembled an asthma patient gasping for breath, with the company of this man sitting beside me. He’d introduced himself as- “ Mr. Prasad, a proffessor for class 12 for English” raised his glasses and continued-“One who talks while students are asleep” for which I had let out a bomb blast like laughter, terrorising people sitting around me. I’d then offered him some peanuts, for which he fixed a stared at them, examined them in such a way that it made me feel aweful that I hadn’t had a magnifying glass handy. He continued his contemplation, and finally, like a scientist, gave me some advice- “ Peanuts are to be well roasted. Then salted. Then neatly packed. Then thrown into the dust bin. I hate peanuts.” This time I didn’t quite jump off my chair nor did I laugh like a dinosaur. I had a distant feeling like that of - Kissing a Policeman.



Meanwhile, as the train was back in motion, a girl, whom I had named- ‘The Social Secretary of the Compartment’, came by carrying a small baby of some lady who was seated rows away. I mean, some people, in the name of socialising start pissing you off. She brought the baby close to me and whispered to the baby- “ Say ‘hii’ to uncle” and the baby started playing with my nose. God damn… Uncle?? Anyway, I drew the girl closer and whispered- “ Looking at the baby’s expressions, I feel it might piss any moment.” Needless to say that my plan succeeded and she slid out of sight in a nanosecond. Meanwhile, I observed ‘Mr. Professor’ busy reading ‘Chandamama’ as I tried my level best to shut up.

Anyway, after another two hour long, entertaining journey, the train touched Bangalore, which meant that Mr. Prasad had no other option but to give some rest to his mouth while I made a mental note to visit the doctor with my jaw. As the train and his mouth came to a complete halt, we fetched our respective bags, waved ‘good-bye’ to our social secretary and stepped out of the train as I began a ‘search operation’ for the one and only Roshan, who was supposed to be here to pick me up. I phoned him to find him on the other side- “ Heylo! When is your train gonna reach man? I’m in the third platform waiting for you.”

“My dear Roshan. Third platform from the ‘Front’ entrance not the ‘Back’ entrance.”

“2 mins.” ….Damn…….

In two minutes, I spotted him sprinting like Sharukh Khan ( without a bouquet of course) towards me as I turned to offer Mr. Prasad a drive upto his place. Like all professors, he shamelessly accepted the invitation. I mean, atleast a simple“ no, It’s okay” would have been nice. Anyway, we walked out of the station with Roshan leading us, as though escorting us. After a walk which almost tended to infinity, I spotted a huge, erect ‘No Parking’ sign board and Roshan’s car right below it. The sight, nothing new to me though. Talk about irresponsible citizens.

As we were about to enter the car, Roshan noticed a piece of paper stuck onto his wipers. Roshan retrieved the piece of paper, which said ‘ Parking Fine’. He got back to us and held it with enthusiasm, and said- “ Look at this. Parking Fine.”

The reflexes were enough for Mr. Prasad to reply- “When u find a slip – “Parking Fine” on your car… It doesn’t mean your parking was fine.”

“You dumb head,” I completed the sentence….. laughed…. Coughed… laughed… coughed harder…

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Midnight Outing..!!

(Guys, writing after a long gap. Lost touch. But anyway (try to) enjoy it :) )

“Damn… These mosquitoes….. Dude, I'm not able to sleep at all.” Roshan almost cried.

“Think about your ex, think about the day you got your board exam results and the day your neighbour’s dog bit you…..” I went on like a ‘Reality Show’ judge..

“Shut up. Oh my god, you just ruined my night’s sleep.” Roshan sat up trying to forget everything that I had told him to recollect. He shook his head and continued- “Okay. Now tell me, how to get rid of these mosquitoes? Man, they come close to my ears and make stupid sounds.”

“You’ve got to take revenge on them man. Show them your man-ness.”

“But how??” Roshan said, though the ‘how’ was dragged so much that it sounded like a wolf’s howl.

I stood and marched to the cupboard to fetch my CD pouch, slipped out an audio CD from it and passed it on to Roshan- “Take this.”

“Latest Hits OF Himesh Reshammia?”

“Yup. What better way to take revenge on those mosquitoes uh??”

He kicked me hard after which he hurt his toe, howled like a wolf again and went back to his bed. I mean, any mad fan of Himesh would have done the same. All was well from my side, as eventually I had ended up irritating him more than those little useless mosquitoes.

An hour later……

I noticed Roshan sitting against me wearing one of those Shilpa Shetty’s fake IPL smiles. He growled - “You ruined my sleep you idiot.”

I returned a girlish smile, which pissed him off even more. He pulled my blanket out as if he was planning to strip me, but just said, rather ordered- “We are going for a ride. Get up.”

Cruising at a high speed, there we were, on the streets of Bangalore as the clock struck 2 in the morning. We rode along as the cold breeze tickled our ears, the silence around gave a becalming effect and the blood pressures raised with every turn he took. I yelled at him from the rear seat- “Ride carefully. I almost met god last time I sat behind you.”

“You are not on the pavement, so you are safe.” He yelled back.

I didn’t actually quite stab him but I was tempted to say – “Go to hell” but again, I was intelligent enough to hold it back realising the irony that it would present considering that I was sitting behind him.




Anyway, finally Roshan spotted the brakes and the bike was brought to rest. I realised that we had tripped 10kms in pursuit of a cigarette. His wafer-thin wallet had enough in it to afford a cigarette for him and a cool-drink for me. He gazed strenuously at me and enquired out of frustration – “When will you grow up?”

“I read about the evils of smoking, I gave up smoking.” I smiled.

“I read about the evils of smoking, I gave up reading.” He smiled.

I returned the stare like I had glasses slipping from the tip of my nose. He continued gazing at me, now like a devil with his face engulfed in smoke. I continued with my cool-drink, staring at the sky as he continued puffing away smoke staring at street dogs. Just as it was getting boring, a girl wearing pants which almost started from her thighs came by and asked Roshan- “What kinda' person are you?”

“Who? Me?” Roshan bulged his eyes showing excitement as he hid his tautness.

“Yes baby.” She smiled.

“I’m basically a diplomatic person.” Roshan replied in a way which reminded me of my class 10, slightly eccentric Maths teacher.

“If you think, completing your ‘diploma’ course is what is being ‘diplomatic’ then you are wrong you stupid.” I said clamorously busy staring at ‘nothing’.

The girl, an intelligent one I concluded, turned to me and asked me straight- “You want that stuff?” as she dug out a packet of a whitish powder from her bore well sized pocket. Roshan, who was aghast at seeing her with drugs, leapt on to the bike and threw it into ignition and rustled –“ Dude, come over. Fast.” I walked to the bike with one eye fixed to the girl ( like James Bond), said- “ Tell me if that powder doesn’t work, I have a CD of Himesh Reshammia’s latest hits” and off we went as Roshan played with the accelerator putting the lives of street dogs into jeopardy.

As we reached home, Roshan went into a mood where he sounded like a retired senior citizen, with his ears being fed with some ‘latest hits’ of those silly mosquitoes. He went on and on with his morality talks, which reminded me of a line – “If electricity comes from electrons does it mean morality comes from morons?” Anyway, that’s when I realised that there are worse things in life than death, spending an evening (sounds better than ‘night’) with Roshan.

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Polit(r)ic(k)s..!!

( Hey guys, sorry, have been away from blogging. As they say- It's so difficult to be doing nothing coz you never know when you're finished. Anyway, in the meanwhile I thought I would repost a few small quickies that I had written long ago. Would come up with a post soon. hehe ;) .. cya)

In a congregation, at a small constituency in rural India.

Person1 - There’s been no supply of tomatoes into our town since last week. What is the matter?

Politician- (smiles) I know. I’ll look into it.

Person2- No supply of eggs too. What about that?

Politician- (smiles)I know. I’lll look into it.

Person3- You haven’t visited our constituency since the day you were elected into power. Now, all of a sudden, what makes you come here?

Politician- (smiles) You people are ‘God’ to me. I’ve come here to seek blessings from you. As you know, elections are coming up. Please vote for me.

All the gathered people, with crimson red faces, scanned around themselves in search of anything that could be hurled or pelted.

Politician- (smiles) No tomatoes?? no eggs uh???

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Inauguration..!!

“Arjun…Arjunnnnn….. hey idiot Arjunnnn…….” I heard at 7 in the morning as my alarm clock had exhausted it’s battery life. As usually I was in the US, sightseeing with Mr. Obama. I mean I was in my dreams. “Abeee Oyeeeeee” someone screamed again.

“Who the hell is that nut head??” I wondered, rolled and dived like an Olympic Gold medalist into the ground bruising my forehead over the floor. I stood up rubbing my head to realize that I was in my bed room and my trip was over. In other words, the night was over.

“Dabba nan magane (useless fellow)…Arjunnnnnnn…” I heard again. I walked to the front door and opened it to find Roshan with his jogging gear on.

“Hi da, what’s up?” I asked which pissed him off like crazy.

“Bloody damn ass. We decided to go jogging today… Don’t you remember?

“Did we? Isn’t it late now? Can we go now?” I enquired in an American accent.

“Yes We Can” he announced like Mr.Obama.

I walked back still rubbing my eyes convincing myself that I was awake now and I was in India. I too put on my jogging gear on, banged the door behind me and said to Roshan who was tying his shoe laces- “Don’t delay man. This is what I hate about you.”
He found a stone and pelted at me. Anyway, we finally hit the road, jogging along towards the park. As we jogged along, we discussed matters varying from national issues like- “If it was NIKE or REEBOK that was pelted at our Home minister” to local issues like- “The best Bunking strategy for the next day’s class.” He then noticed a street dog to his right and hence immediately shifted his position to the left of me. Anyway, we jogged along talking about this and that, though we were occasionally distracted by either very good looking girls or either very bad ones.

As the jogging had come to a halt and we were both puffing with our hands on our knees, we found a huge gathering a few meters ahead of us. The banner said- “Inauguration Of Nirmala Public Toilet.”
At first we thought, Mrs. Nirmala was the owner of this toilet, but then realized that ‘Nirmala’ meant ‘Clean’and not a name. As we read further we learnt that it will be inaugurated by a local MLA. And the most exciting and funny part was that free breakfast would be served after the inauguration. I was picturing a scene on my mind where Roshan runs to the toilet and asks- Is the breakfast ready?



Roshan who was standing with his eyes fixed to the newly built public toilet was lost in thoughts. I dint want to disturb him, so went to check out as to what was getting prepared for breakfast. Nice hot Kesari Bath was getting ready and I returned to Roshan to convey the good news. Roshan still stood staring at the public toilet as if he was staring at an ex-girl friend who’d ditched him. He finally, slowly turned to me and said with a low voice- “Dude, now I really need to go to the toilet.”

“Just by seeing a toilet??”

“Yeah man. That’s my weakness.”

“How tragic!!”

“I’m going in. Urgent” he said and walked towards it. People were tying the ribbon which the MLA was supposed to cut for the inauguration. He pushed a 10 rupee note to a cleaner and entered the toilet from under the ribbon. Meanwhile I walked to the dining area and enquired as to when the breakfast will be ready. Meanwhile, the MLA had arrived and Roshan was still inside the White-House. I climbed a nearby compound wall and watched the scene.

The MLA cut the ribbon and a loud round of applauds made its way. Just then, with ultimate grace, like in a fashion show, Mr.Roshan was seen walking out from inside and everyone looked with their eye brows hooked in amazement. The MLA gaped astonishingly and disgustingly at him in confusion. Roshan mustered a shameless smile and even more shamelessly said- “ Nice Toilet” smiled and hurried out like a sheep.

Anyway, finally we had the Kesari Bath and coffee after which I had to visit the White-House. Later, as we were ready to leave, I announced- “We have just ‘inaugurated’ a public toilet in the true sense of the word. I’m proud.”

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Sita-Sene..!!

(Recession everywhere, damn, even in my comments page (“_’). There’s no one in this world except me, who would have shooed away their readers by posting so called thriller series (hinting at Tara). Anyway, trying to get back to normal, which means some sensible crap, whatever that means. Enjoy)

Reading the newspaper as a first thing in the morning isn’t a great idea, trust me. It was a lovely morning that day, the 14th of February, a day of profits for the ‘Archies’. The previous night, I was enlightened by a business plan. In pursuit of anything red and resembling a heart, my eyes almost popped out like popcorn onto my ex-pillow. On a mission- “Steal the knife from the kitchen”, I crawled into the kitchen, but was late to realize that mom was as sharp as the knife. My business ambitions were pounded into the gutter. Anyway, that’s a long tragic useless story. Back to the present, I picked up the newspaper and read on- “ Sanjay Dutt enters politics.” In India, you can commit a crime and have grandchildren before you’ll be punished. My ever-vigilant mind began picturing a silly court scene inside my head- “ In a courtroom, the lawyer asks- “What were you upto on that fateful day on the 23rd of March 1960, Mr.X?” Mr.X replies- “ I was playing ‘ball’ with my grandfather, Sir.” The judge intervenes- “ What were you up to last week when the notice was sent, Mr.X?” Mr X coughs and replies- “ I was playing ‘ball’ with my grandson, your honour.””

Anyway, I moved onto the next headline- “ We will marry off any couples found together in public today- Mr.Muthalik, Rama-Sene chief.” I began to think about concepts like ‘Time saving’, ‘Money saving’, ‘energy saving’ and so on, but then I kicked myself, passed the paper to mom and breezed into the bathroom to get ready for college. Came out, found a T-shirt on which some nice words were intelligently written- “fcuk.” If I was as brave as I appeared to be, I would have changed it to- “fcuk muthakil.” Anyway, as I finished breakfast and was jumping onto my bike, my mom came and told me- “ Why not skip college today? We can go out somewhere.”

“What?” which appeared more like a joint question of- ‘Why? Whats the reason? Whats wrong? It’s not April 1st today….’

“Just simply. Getting bored.”

“No thanks mom. Go out with your lovely daughter. Cya” I sped away.

I reached Roshan’s place. That damn fellow was like the ‘kanjoos of the millennium’ types. I had to take him to college though he had a bike, but because his bike drank a lot more petrol. Anyway, I entered his home, his mom smiled at me though I wasn’t sure if that was artificial or genuine, I found a seat and the same newspaper. “What’s the weather forecast for today dude?” Roshan screamed from his room as if he was preparing for some ‘Mission Impossible’. I checked it to find- ‘Clear skies. Avg- 32degrees’. I screamed back- “Carry your Rain-Coat, dude.”
After his ‘dressing-up’, he came by and sat next to me to finish his coffee. As always I wondered if he had taken bath with water or perfume.

His mom passed me another cup of coffee and said to Roshan and me- “ Why don’t you guys skip college today and stay back at home. I’m preparing carrot halwa today.”

Roshan replied with the same- “What” exactly the way I did to my mom. When did parents in India start saying things like– ‘Bunk College my boy’, I thought.

“No ma. We have an important presentation to make today. Can’t skip.” He replied like Mr. Scholar.

“What presentation, Roshan?” I asked with a tone.

He came close and whispered- “Fuck you. Just shut up.”

Meanwhile, his mom was getting vexed and said- “ you both are staying back, that’s all.”

“No ma” our scholar replied again. Roshan walked out of the house like how a disappointed boss walks out of a staff meeting. As I too began to walk out, his mom came and enquired softly- “Does he have a girl-friend? He’s acting weird nowadays.”

“No aunty, don’t worry.” I said and walked out perplexed to the bike and we left. Only as we rode along that I could paint the actual picture. I could now come to terms with the weird behaviour of both our moms. The moms didn’t want their sons to come back home with wives. Just then, I got a call from my mom.

“Hello. You reached college? Just called to find out.” She enquired innocently.

“No ma. Someone from ‘Rama-Sene’ it seems. They’ve caught me and a girl who was with me. Now they are taking us somewhere ma.”

“What? Where are you? What the hell? Whats happening? Dint you go to college? I told you to stay back…..” and another billion questions pounced on me at a time.

“Relax mom. Just kidding. I don’t have a girl friend.”
She got the point, laughed and then we disconnected. I explained all this Roshan but he could understand it only after three repetitions. He called up his mom (of course with my phone) and tried to play the same prank I tried to play with my mom, it became a perfect flop show as his mom exhibited her verbal skills and it finally took my intervention to claim calm and peace.

At that very moment, Roshan announced- “Dude this is unfair. We all have to do something. Something soon. We shall organize dharnas, strikes…..” he went on. And finally he said- “ We shall start an organization contradicting Muthalik’s ‘Rama-Sene’. We shall call ours ‘Sita-Sene’.” So ‘Sita-Sene’ was formed and inaugurated by yours truly and as expected it lasted for less than half a day.

One hour later, a ‘spark-plug’ resembling Roshan had lost all his spark as he feared to even talk to girls that day making them wonder if his head was alright. By the end of the day, he resembled a punctured tube as his mom sighed relief that she was lucky enough to not meet her daughter-in-law yet. I, in the meanwhile, like Mr.India spent my evening in a temple with my paranoia struck mom.

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Midnight Utopia..!!

“Sonaaaaliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii………………” I screamed as the clock struck 3 in the morning, in my hostel room.

Sensing that I was still asleep, Roshan brought a jug full of water and poured it on me. Drowned with water and shock, I tried to sit, trying to catch my breath and thoughts as the water entered my nostrils. That bastard could have just sprinkled water on me.

“Oh God! What kind of a mad ass are you?” Roshan asked restlessly feeling helpless about me- the enigma.

“Same to you.” I smiled and blasted- “Go get the towel you stupid.”

As he passed the towel to me, he said with ineffable restlessness- “ You literally kill me with your dreams everyday. How many tonnes of crap do you have loaded into that useless head of yours?”

I was recollecting my dream without even renting out an ear to his ‘woe blabbering’. I said interrupting him- “ Okay listen to my dream” and began with the unvarnished version of the mid-night crap-

The sky encircled me with dark, gray clouds. I clad a white shirt with a white dhoti in a pukka South Indian village style. A tall, black guy stood facing me around 10 metres from me with a stare, a forest of a moustache and a knife in his hand. With his other hand, he held my girlfriend, Sonali's throat. I looked at my slippers and then at the sky, removed my sunglasses and flipped it aside. The first drop of rain reached my forehead, which ignited my show of bravery and man-ness. With a tough look on my face I lifted my right leg as if to show him my thighs. Then I lifted my right hand and slapped hard on my right thigh and just as I slapped the thigh, a loud thunder broke out and the downpour began. With that, the guy trembled with fear, released the girl and ran for his life. Sonali ran to me and hugged me and was about to kiss when the director hurriedly shouted- “CUT. Take Okay.”

I added to Roshan, who was with his ears open to my preposterous dream story, cleaning all the excess water on the floor after he had poured it on me- “ Dude, the damn director. I was reminded of our guru, Navjot Singh Sidhu’s saying- “ The ball missed the bat just like a kiss in an Indian movie.”



‘Crap-disinterested Mr. Roshan enquired- “ And you shouted Sonaaliii for that?”

“No, you stupid.” I continued- “ That’s after another scene in the movie.”

“Fuck You.”

“Thank You.”

Unlike Roshan, I was excited, so I continued- “ And you know what? I won the Indian equivalent of ‘The Oscars’ – ‘The Bhaskars’ for this role. You ever got such a dream in you lifetime?”

“Thank God. No.”

Roshan, in pursuit of time-pass, asked out of curiosity- “ What was that next part which made you shout so loud like Tarzan?”

I smiled and started-

I paid 100 bucks for a bunch of flowers, which costs just 50 bucks and began to run to the railway station. Though there were taxis all around, I had to confine myself to running. My sweat and tears merged confusingly as I sped across the city like a thief who stole flowers. My informers (a bunch of comedians) had informed me that Sonali’s dad (the villain by the way) was taking her away from me to an unknown place. The train began it’s movement as I reached the station entrance. I dint care to buy a platform ticket but ran, jumping around like Jackie Chan. The train was speeding away from the platform when I spotted Sonali from the train extending a hand towards me with tears flowing through her like a waterfall. I ran and ran, but the train was faster and I couldn’t reach her. Now my 100 bucks worth flowers and my life was totally wasted. So I waited for the next train to enter the platform, and as it came along, I jumped in front of it shouting out loud- “ Sonaaaliiiiiiiiiiii…..”

It was 6 in the morning now, Roshan scratched his head after listening to my story and walked into the bathroom to get ready for college. Then it was my turn, and then we headed to college, where I narrated this story to a bunch of guys who all scratched their heads later and then I headed back home and fell asleep.

At 3 AM, the next morning, I shouted with roof-threatening levels of sound- “Yeahhhhhhhh..!!! I won ‘The Bhaskars’ …. Yeahhhh..!!” which made Roshan waste another jug of water.

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Heavy Party..!!

Me and Roshan, after a brain storming session filled with arguments came to the conclusion that we should also include a greeting card along with a birthday present (a monster gorilla) to his neighbour’s kid- Nikil a.k.a Dangerous Darling, on his birthday. We bought a Birthday card on which I was about to write the regular- ‘ With Love from……’ when Roshan interrupted in a way they interrupted marriages in movies. He said to me- “ Even pharmacists are clueless about your hand writing. Give it to me, I’ll write.” A lady standing beside giggled trying to look at the ceiling. I’m basically dust-proof, rain-proof and insult-proof. So, I just walked away. Anyway, after all that non-sense, we entered the party hall, which actually looked like more non-sense. Nikil ran to us and we wished him and presented him the gift and the card & in return he gave us Birthday caps (cones) and paper trumpets (we call it pee-pee). I blew hard with it and all the kids followed suit, which made me close my ears and made their parents’ BP levels rise. People who knew me well enough, in a weird way could conveniently establish the relation between- Parents’ BP levels and me. That didn’t make me any prouder, but as I said, I was insult-proof.

Anyway, they served us a ‘Welcome Drink’. Holding the drink we found a seat for ourselves. While I could finish a glass of juice in 4 seconds, Roshan takes 4 minutes. He’s like a lazy senior citizen. Meanwhile one known ‘aunty’, who was extra-large in size came by and said to me with a wicked, disgusting smile- “ You have gained weight. You were so good looking.” The happiest person on earth at that point of time, Roshan replied- “ Aunty, I have a six pack. Did I tell you? ”
Aunty smiled and looked at me waiting for a reply. I thought about many replies but said- “ He has a six pack. I have a family-pack.” She laughed but wasn’t amazed. Who cares?



Then, dinner was ready for me and I was ready for dinner. My plate got so jam-packed that I couldn’t even see the plate. I found a seat to hog on to the stuff on my plate. Meanwhile the kids put color papers and some scrap on my head and took snaps. They loved me like hell. I was reminded of the joke- “I have just returned from a children's party. I'm one of the survivors.” Roshan dint find any girl, so he sat quiet. He suddenly went to a two year old kid and started talking- “ chu chu chu… chu chu chu…” and I began to wonder who was two year old. Meanwhile that extra-large aunty came by along with her daughter. She pointed at me and told her daughter- “ Go ask him if that is a basket ball or his tummy.” They both giggled. They themselves were extra large and that tested my ‘insult-proofing.’ It was time to show my ‘man-ness’. I looked out for Roshan for company but he had already found a girl and was talking some crap like how much he liked ice-creams.

Anyway, I walked to that aunty and her daughter. The children just started singing- “ Humpty Dumpty…” I asked aunty curiously- “ Aunty, do you measure your weight in a weighing machine or a Richter scale?” and sang along “Humpty Dumty sat on a wall…” with the kids.

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