Heres to Freedom of Expression...

Part your legs and Push

2012-03-06T16:08:00.001+05:30

How I came to be at the receiving end of this instruction is along and painful story, which I tried to put into fictional form, inventingthis wife and husband. It must come across as a surprise to you that I couldnot, and cannot write a story to save my own dear life. Hence I now attempt towrite this in the usual way as such, the Totalliemeh way.

Guest posting is NOT an easy task.And I have been bugged,nudged, threatened, blackmailed(emotionally and otherwise) into writing one.The fact that the owner of this blog wrote a kidu GP on my blog, didn't help toput it off for long. The voice of my conscience, which for some weirdreason, resembles the blog owner's voice, gave me sleepless nights, I tossedaround with this heavy weight on my mind, a debt, and ..er. well, here I am.

I am not fat.

It is a liberating experience to write that on someone else'sblog, for a change. I guess this is my primary concern regarding my life,second only to my unemployed state and unknown dark future. Lets just not gothere okay? Okay. So where were we?

Yea, Am NOT fat. Nope. No. But Somehow, everyone seems to thinkso. I was wondering, why is that a problem? Should it be a problem? Surely youwill feel that how food is being processed and deposited on my body is none ofanyone's business. but it isn't so. Right from the college store ladywho inquired about "the baby" to the old classmate whodidn't recognize me at the alumni meet, from a best friend wholiterally starved herself scolding me for taking second helpings, to a brotherwho called you thadichi, I have had enough of humiliating experiences, which-which prompted me to go join a --GYM.

Ah. Gym was like school. I was excited to go at first, my motherhad to drag me to the place the next two weeks, and I accepted my fate andbegan liking the gym, after a month. But the "I love to work out"attitude was a rather strange journey, which is, am sure, quite clear in thefirst sentence of this post. The Leg press machine, asks you to put your legson the press, part it slightly and push. Well, it was a rather strange analogythat the mind cooked up, but it only confirms my fears that the mind is highlyperverted.

I liked walking on the treadmill, which I used to spell asthreadmill, and I thought it was named so coz life was hanging like on athread, while you are on it. I loved the machine, I used to walk , watching thetv infront of me, the hands free to use the remote, all was hunky dory till theinstructor came along and asked me to increase the speed from 1.5 km/h and actually"run". Then I began to hate it as I drew analogies from my life, toexplain the way I felt about the machine. It is a stupid machine, no matter howmuch you struggle and run you are at the same position and if you stop, youfall and die.

I was never allowed on the exercise bike as I was prone to sleepwhile I was on it. The dumbbell exercise was a humiliation, Icouldn't lift the lowest of weights. I became a child once again who hasforgotten her arithmetic while counting the number of push-ups. Abs exerciseswere an all in one- It was humiliating, exhausting and I was often foundnodding off with my legs in the air.

Don't wonder. I quit gym a few weeks ago. My trainer keepscalling me, even from different numbers and for all your information, I am rightnow in the States, married. If she asks, stick with this story.

The profound influence this blog owner's pragmatic nature had,has, have, whatever- on my life should be mentioned now. His philosophy seemsto be rather a very simple, well known and a widely followed one. Eat what youwant, when you want, avoid exercise if you can help it, and die a happyman/woman. He looks everyday in the mirror and swears he will gain another kilothat day, which, he achieves quite easily, and he is a happy contented man, ifthere was any. And I am allowed to affectionately call him "Thadiya".and I do. and I love calling him that as well. Oye- don't get slim, ever. Ihope you always remain the cushy squishy pudgy self.

Love,

Chyechu.

***

Ladies and gentlemen,

That was the fabulously magnificient Totalliemeh opening up on a rather touchy issue. This unprecedented exclusive from the elusive,secretive,mysterious woman's pen brought to you by Oldblighter_Vanwinkle productions. Stay tuned for more sensational scoops.cheers.

Kahani

2012-02-25T23:02:00.002+05:30

Alright listen. There’s this downright amusing thing that happened some time back. I m sure you would read it in the papers,but then you know how these paper guys are.. they see a chick with her strap slightly askew,and you read about a female walking topless in public glare ,”in what can be called a blatant disregard of public decency”. Anyway,I digress. This is going to happen quite a few times,so kindly bear with me.

Alright,so there was this guy,who had this shop right next to the main road. You know that road which is perennially clogged to the hilt? The one which has all these insanely,vulgarly rich shops lining it?playground of the bourgeoise?yeah that one.. This dude had this shop which sold cigarettes and all… Not quite keeping up with the rich boys,I know,but then if its there its there..

Anyway,this guy had a problem. I mean,its not something which is out there for all to see,its as if he was going around filling cigarettes with cyanide and all,but you could tell,you would not be able to put a finger on it,but you could tell. The sort of problem any hotshot shrink would kill to check out.

Now,this guy used to open up shop at about 8 in the morning..he had this kid as a help,he d picked him up from the pavement or something.. And the only thing this guy would do was sit in this rather comfyish arm chair he had,put his feet up on the counter,and stare at the traffic on the road through this glass pane his shop had,which,by the way,was bedecked with an inch thick layer of grime and muck and avian excrement and all sorts of dirt you could think of.. Coming to think of it,I don’t remember a single day someone did something to that glass.. It just stayed on the glass pane,etched in permanence,as those poet fellows or the writers would put it.. Personally,I wouldn’t put it past the guy to have thought of it as some sort of a crazy “COME ON IN,MAN!!” signboard.. And somehow,he stared through all that.. And he wouldn’t even acknowledge his regular customers,a cursory,imperceptible nod of the head,perhaps,but that was merely mechanical more than anything else.. ya,so anyway,this was all he used to do.. He seemed to be fascinated by the incessant flow of traffic,obsessed,like a child would be with his toys,minus the childlike enthusiasm of course,perfunctory obsession,if you will..

Now,let me bring in some perspective of my own.. Listen to this closely,because this might explain why this dude did what he did.. What he did will come at the end,obviously,like all good stories.. I guess he was probably appalled by the levels life has stooped down to.. yeah this dude metaphorically extrapolated the flow of traffic to the ebb and flow of life.. Badass no?wait,it gets badasser.. What I mean is,what sort of life are you leading when you don’t have the slightest regard or respect for another individual? No? you simply cannot bring yourself to be behind a guy for some time,no,you have to honk the other guy out senseless and get past.. You are so bloody obsessed with leaving the pack behind in this stupidass world,that you ll do anything to acheive whatever stupid thing it is that you want to achieve.. The last dregs of humanity have been drained out forever. You cannot,wll not get out of your insanely sophisticated automobile to help a guy with a flat tire or something,unless it’s a buxom chick with lots of cleavage visible. Oh you get a hard on with that kitschy stuff don’t you? Where are we headed yo? The light turns green and bang,it’s a deafening cacophony of a zillion odd stupid horns,you just cant wait.. well,you have got millions riding on every second haven’t you?Understandable..
I guess this guy became morbidly fascinated with this whole ruddy concept with each passing day.. a never ending saga of degenerating decencies.. why morbid?

One day,I mean the day I m talking about,the day which this amusing incident happened,this guy wanted to do this social experiment sorta thingy to actually gauge the extent of this rut.. What he did, he took out his gun,went to the junction,this happened during rush hour,mind,and blew his goddamn brains off.. Now that’s dramatic for you.. alright,anyway,thanks for your attention,now forget this,and get back to whatever it is that you were doing.. cheerio..

PS: to the cop or whoever it is that finds this bit of literary genius.. Get this published,man,just give it to one of em douchebag reporters.. And,oh,sorry about all the blood and all,just wash it off or something.

Nothing

2011-12-19T19:55:00.002+05:30

She knew he loved her,but there was something off about him today. Not something that would be immediately perceptible,of course,he was the epitome of poise and composure,especially after one or two of those shiny silvery things he stuck up his arm. No. this was different, she had seen him long enough to know that there was something amiss. Heck,she had even spawned two litters since she wandered into this mess which passed off as his home. Something was wrong. Even the whirring of the fan seemed awkward. She could feel it seeping in through her furry exterior, the same way she felt his hand stroking her. Stroke stroke pinch. Stroke stroke pinch. In happier times it used to be stroke stroke stroke. Stroke stroke stroke. pinch sowed the seeds of doubt in her feline mind.
You see,the feline rule book is pretty unambiguous about a pinch. It unequivocally communicates the fact that the guy/girl is a mess. Her tail began to twitch rather violently,the pinch to respond in kind,and she let out the catty equivalent of a wince. He seemed to say something,no,shout something,and then took off in the direction of the kitchen. She needed some air to clear up her mind. So four contemplative legs carried the gingerbread mass,a brooding tail in tow,across the teapoi,which was littered with a lot of needles and spoons and out through the door.

***

His guy hadn’t come,and neither did the Thing that came along with him. Scarcity,he was told. Supply demand mismatch. He didn’t need economics,he needed the Thing. The last bit of his stock sat there in front of him,on a spoon,awaiting the warmth from his lighter underneath it. But he wasn’t in a mood to cook up,there was something bothering him. Stroke,stroke,pinch. She was his only companion,and she got his undiluted affection and care,there anyway wasn’t anyone else to split it with,but her sinfully soft fur was not helping today. His spirits,which should have been high after morning’s needle were woefully low. Was it that the Thing no longer sent him into raptures of ecstasy like it did before? The very thought was alarming,blasphemous even.. He had been doing this Thing for the better part of 1 year,and this was the first time he didn’t feel good. Stroke stroke pinch. Her tail was twitching violently,and it was making him lose his train of thought. Stroke stroke PINCH. Meow. Sounded like the wahwah pedal got jammed or something. So where was he? Yes,Nothingness. It seemed as if the homeymoon had ended and the ship had entered rocky waters. The needle used to make love to him in those days. Now it was just nonchalant,indifferent penetration,as if he were a harlot. Trainspotting was on tv,and the withdrawal bit drove him nuts. Was this his withdrawal phase. Was this the annulment of a bad marriage? Or was it that his guy was giving him rubbish? Was he looting him? He was quick to dismiss this possibility. Contemplative stroke stroke pinch. The thing was,the bond between the Thing guy and the taker guy was founded on a rock solid base of trust and comradeship. Betrayal was for the other side of town,the blazer clad politicians and industrialists and all. A parent might let down his child,but a Thing guy would never let down his Taker. Breach of trust was out of the question. Oh what the heck,the spoon was now being the seductress. No lighter. Damn. He got up rather labouriously and heaved his mass off in search of the lighter. It was then that he heard the spoon hit terra firma. She was stupid, but even stupidity couldn’t justify the lack of civility in walking over the teapoi. Oh,wait, that was the last of his stock. No more Thing. Nothing. It was time she felt the enraged sharpness of his knife.

Antagony

2011-09-13T19:31:00.006+05:30

The pestilence of ants has never fully been stressed upon by humanity in general. I don’t know about y’all, but ,if you ask me, nature has this quirky way of giving all those wonderful idioms cooked up by mankind since times immemorial a rather grandiose finger. Take for instance the age old “as wily as a fox”. Now, I cannot claim to be an expert when it comes to foxes, for the simple reason that i am not on first name terms with their ilk, and have certainly not been hobnobbing with them of late.

But what I can say, with a decent degree of conviction, is that the way they carry themselves in the public gaze, is anything but wily and cunning. I mean, my point is this, if you are a wily, slimy, scheming li’l basterd, you are expected to have subtlety as one of your character traits, and if you would care to look at homo sapiens who would fit the aforementioned description, viz. wily, slimy, scheming li’l basterd, one thing that’s immediately perceptible is a rather suave air about them, with a sickening disarming grin meant to put unsuspecting fellow homo saps off their guard, they blend with the group. And foxes? well, if you choose to call a clan that endorses howls as a pleasant mode of communication wily, I’d be inclined to call Mr Saddam Hussein an amiable old blighter.

This brings us to the point I’ve been endeavouring to make: the inherent conflict of opinion between nature and the human race.

Hence, extrapolating this rather convoluted rationale to the topic at hand today, nature saved its biggest, fattest, most meanest finger for its coup de grace: Ants and “size matters”. And we aren’t even talking about those darned orange coloured fury centres crawling along trees ready to unleash their fury on their next unsuspecting victims. We are talking about the puny, unassuming diminutive black coloured organisms often seen plying trade routes with military discipline all over the house. That’s right, house ants, minions of the devil himself. Don’t get fooled by the industrious, diligent task master status often accorded to these dastardly creatures. Behind that façade lurks the root of all evil, a soul so diabolic that Weapons of Mass Destruction are rumoured to have been inspired by these blighted 4 legged(4 legs no?) psychopaths.

Now, detractors of my school of thought might cry hoarse over the rather colourful picture I have painted, and would be inclined to attribute such qualities as harmless and awe inspiring. Well, I admit, there have been times when I have been wonderstruck and left speechless (a little exaggeration never did anyone any harm) watching these “little wonders” at work. But when your grouse against these earthly cohabitants goes over a tipping point, awe and its next of kin go along with it. Oh, and a word of advice to my worthy opponent; try waxing eloquent on how awesome ants really are with a few of them lodged in your dress. The hole that you leave behind in your roof, with a diameter approximately equal to your girth will help you put things in perspective.

The grouse and tipping point thingy I was alluding to earlier refers in particular to two singular occurrences. Events that left a lot of mutilated, squashed corpses in its wake.

Event 1(for want of a better name) involved those infernal invalids raiding my biscuit cabinet and reducing its contents to particulate form. An open packet would have been to me,a source of consolation,but this atrocity was committed on innocent slabs of baked mould(3 packets to be precise) still parked in air tight packets. They drilled through the poly ethylene shroud of resistance in a manner which would have made oil barons sit up and take notice. Clinical,ruthless,diabolic and non chalant. Yessir,non chalant is the word. Minutes before I unleashed my carnage,I happened to have this informal convo with one mercenary whom I had stopped with an intent to interrogate. Well,I aint that big an expert when it comes to interpreting their expressions flawlessly,but the aforementioned convo went thus:

Me: ahoy there.

A:*raised eyebrows*

Me:kindly explain presence.

A:what does it look like I m doing,********?

Me:*sword unsheathed*

A:now if you don’t mind…

Event 2 is something which has perplexed me a great deal. I can understand their affinity to foodstuff,but.. wait,don’t get me wrong here,I said I *understand* their avarice,in that I acknowledge the fact that their infernal antennae almost always spot places where food is kept.. but whats miles beyond my comprehension is what possibly draws them to apparel. You read correct,apparel.. these dastardly creations inserted every inch of their miniscule proboscis into my hapless body making me hop around for atleast 5 minutes before good sense prevailed and I separated body from cloth(yes,dire circumstances as these cloud your judgement). Though unprecedented aggression followed this outrageous guerrilla attack,I must admit it left me shaken. what makes retaliatory ops so difficult is the fact that these,these,boy I ve run out of adjectives,these creatures are so ruddy shrewd,they hide under hemlines and stitches..

Well,before I wind up,a word of advise to shri Anna Hazare.next time you go for one of those mass gatherings,better check your hemlines properly. Cavorting on stage on one leg ala cabaret artistes wont go down too well with censorship crusaders,you know.

Atonement

2011-05-06T11:48:00.001+05:30

“… He is a man of unimpeachable integrity and has single handedly steered the Agricultural Development Board to dizzying heights,and has strongly defended this organization in the face of wide spread criticism…”,the speech seemed to have no end in sight.He squirmed restlessly in his seat on the dais listening to colleagues heap lavish praise on him on his retirement day,colleagues he hated,and who reciprocated the sentiment in equal measure. He heaved a sigh of relief as the speech finally drew to a close,and at an opportune moment,made good his escape from the hall and dashed to the parking lot. He was in no mood for felicitations and light hearted banter.Pointless.There were massive plans afoot. Tonight was the night of Atonement.

***

He reached for the glove compartment and took out the syringe and dope.White powder on spoon,lighter underneath,had become a reassuring sight over all these years.Heroin had become his sole existential bond with sanity.He needed something to soothe his frayed nerves,and what better way could there be? The groggy appearance that came along with it was attributed to work related stress.Couldnt have been truer. And his family understood.

He switched on his car stereo and jacked it up to full volume. Mutiliate the stillborn-Necrophagist. The irony was lost on him.

As he shot off into the night,his life flashed across his dilated pupils. A passionate,determined,result oriented recruit,his rise along the echelons of bureaucracy was meteoric. He soon found himself at the helm of the Agricultural Development Board.The first case before him was the crisis situation unfolding at cashew plantations in a small village in Kasargod,Kerala. Eager to make his presence felt,he went in for an aggressive strategy.There was this new chemical making waves the world over. There were health concerns attached,but he chose to overlook them.Extensive aerial spraying was ordered. The results were unprecedented.He basked in the accolades being showered on him. It was then that prosperity gave way to unmitigated human disaster. But by then it was too late. An entire village had poison in its genes.

***

The car skidded to a halt. Frayed ends of sanity-Metallica. He killed the engine and walked up to his house. Empty. His wife and daughter were at their native place,scouting for a plot post retirement. Swell.

Letter,will,cheques,documents. Check.

His hands were shaking violently. He needed another shot of dope.

He was all set to go.

Loaded revolver. Silencer. Trigger. Two bullets to the foot.

He winced in pain as he hobbled across to his arm chair. Two shots to inflict suffering,but not fatal. Pain slowly gave way to ecstasy.The night had begun.

It was time for step two.

Blade. Stainless steel. Two slits to the wrist.

Blood gushed out and made puddles on the floor. He was beginning to lose consciousness. Fleeting images of twisted limbs and malformed bodies darted across his eyes.

It was now time for the coup de grace. The crowning glory. He was known for his style,and today was going to be no exception.

It was cocktail time.

A pint of single malt whiskey.A few drops of endosulfan to taste. Stir thoroughly. One gulp.

The last thing he saw before he passed out was the image of a kid with a bloated head,and a vacant stare.

Tuskers win best outfit award,fashionistas take notice

2011-04-29T11:04:00.002+05:30

In a development that has created ripples in the fashion circuit and elsewhere, Kochi Tuskers Kerala’s(KTK) distinctive orange-purple jersey has been declared the best outfit in the ipl by fashion mogul FTW. Announcing this at a jam packed press conference in New Delhi Myshell Adam,managing director FTW India said that this was based on public consensus and opinion of a jury comprising of bigwigs in the fashion industry. “It is a comprehensive stamp of approval on their vibrant attire. Just look at the positive energy it brings to their game”,said Mr Adam,a yoga enthusiast.

The team management is clearly overjoyed by this recognition. “We took this with a pinch of salt at first but as it started sinking in,our joy knew no bounds,everyone is on cloud nine. Actually,the designer has told me that my flamboyance was his inspiration”,said a straight faced Sreesanth.

The award got diverse reactions from the fashion junta. While many heralded it as a huge development and a precursor to a significant trend,it was panned by others as being ridiculous. “How on earth can you call something that is loud,in your face and a fashion disaster trendy?”,said famous designer Rina Bangla. However,designer Sabyajhooti Mukherjee had a diametrically opposite view,”it marks a sea change in the fashion perception of people,what was once branded as being gaudy and gay gets selected as best attire,it obviously means abstract,subtler designs are no longer the order of the day.This will obviously get incorporated in our designs as well”.

The award got support from entirely unexpected quarters,with the BJP voicing its approval,”just goes to show the tremendous sway saffron holds over people,it’s a very positive trend for us,in fact we are planning an all India rath yatra to commemorate this occasion”,said a party spokesperson.

Meanwhile,unconfirmed reports state that the queer community plans to make KTK the face of their campaign. “its certainly being considered,I mean,their colour code is consistent with our identity,and if we could take them on board,people will start taking us more seriously”,said a member on the condition of anonymity.

While KTK’s fortunes on the field seem to be on a downward spiral,their prospects off it seem remarkably bright.After all,it’s a whole lot of positive energy.

The 1 year (b)itch

2011-04-20T12:12:00.004+05:30

The perception of anniversaries varies with perspective. While to some,it is an occasion for indulgent merry making,its just another passage of 365 days for others. Well, I tread middle ground.

And thus begins another blog post. Cryptic starts such as these are sure bound to test the wavering patience of the handful who actually read the drivel I purvey,so I better buck up and lay some background on this :D

You see,the anniversary I was alluding to is nothing special. Its one year since I started blogging. 365 days since I created a niche for myself in blogosphere,and I felt it would be doing great injustice to purgationofsoul letting this day pass without so much as a mention. And what better way to do it than commemorate the occasion with a post. So here I am,without any agenda,typing away in glee :DWell instead of groping around for a topic,I might as well resort to some good ol dear dairying.. Well I have proven myself to be woefully incapable of any sort of chronicling whatsoever,but there seems to be no other alternative.. you all will have to bear with me,and as the refrain goes,asuvidha ke liye khed hai..

Last week was largely uneventful and mundane,except for the fact that I am now in the comfortable confines of my home in the National Capital,thanks to a study break,dubiously named Vacation. Travel time was mostly spent ruing the absence of headphones(a facebook status update to that effect got 13 likes,bleah), watching movies,viz. gulaal,revolutionary road and dasaratham(kickass,super and intense respectively) and waxing eloquent on the awesomeness that is Konkan railways..

And then Vishu happened.. So did wallet swelling.. not in a manner that would make i-t blokes sit up and take notice,but substantial the same.:)

Vishu always gets off to a hilariously divine start,what with being made to wake up at unearthly hours,grope around in darkness,eyes closed and then being blinded by intense brightness.. Sample this convo,highly stylized and exaggerated,I had with dad on vishu morning .. The latter is trying to wake me up:

D: Gummorning sonny no 1

Me: Hmpf

D:How bout we rise and shine, ye ol egg

Me:Goway

D:Let me inform you,sonny no 1,that if you don’t relieve the pillow and mattress of your bodily pressure this very moment,I ll be obliged to pick up the lil bucket currently lodged in the bathroom and empty its contents on your distinguished self. Are we clear on this?

Me: Now that’s perspective. A’ight, am up.

D:Eyes firmly shut

Me:well they re gummed at present

D:Walk

Me: Where to?

D:You know where

Me:*fumbling around* I hope my health insurance papers are in place

D:alright,sit.

Me:Whew. Now what?

D:Open up.

Me: *blinded by megawatt radiance* Whoa!!

D: alright me old offspring,do you see the deities’ photos?

Me:er yeah,they are slightly off focus though,hang on..*rubs eyes* alright,positive..

D:the cereals and pulses?

Me: nice and clear

D: other miscellaneous items?

Me: sure thing

D:alright,we re good to go,get up

Well,the rest of the week was business as usual.. When business implies dealings with big fat textbooks,it aint anything to write about..

Its time to wind up then,hope to cook up something better than this next time aroundJ cheers..

Trivandrum Travails:Headbangers' Woe

2011-03-01T18:54:00.004+05:30

A disclaimer at the outset:This post is not meant to be a no holds barred hate post directed at Kerala’s capital.Trivandrum might have its share(a rather meaty share,actually) of shortcomings that don’t befit a state capital,but none so drastic to fuel an all out down-with- thiruvananthapuram slur. No sir,not at all.

This post focuses,specifically,on a particular afternoon,a fateful afternoon that planted in my friend S the desire to own a Lamb Of God tee. Oh gosh,I ve got it all wrong. Rewind.

Well the thing with metal,is that it gets to your head. Now we have,in our hostel, been having a major upheaval in music preferences over the past few months..Pink Floyd,Led Zeppelin,Jimi Hendrix,His Own Lamb, have been steadily gaining in popularity.The hair dresser looks at our locks with longing and melancholy writ large on his face.The neck remains perennially sore owing to headbanging of a particularly violent nature.. It is a culture,more than just being a genre of music,and the sense of belonging is particularly intense,making you want to express your veneration for your fav bands by sporting their memorabilia.

Right,so lets cut back to the day in question here.We(me,S and J) are in the city(er,I am being very liberal when I say city) for nadunissi naaygal (super movie btw,totally untrodden path in tamil cinema)..We walk out of the cinema,largely contented,on account of a forty rupees well spent,totally jobless and hours on end to kill. An idle mind is a devil’s workshop,they say.. and it so happened that that day,the devil came to roost in S’s mind. And thus started a wild goose chase around tvm’s apparel shops,for a Lamb Of God tee.

It would be an understatement to classify the afternoon as merely being eventful.It was a laugh riot. We were this close to being branded mentally unstable.I am pretty sure I heard a “yavan aaredey” (what specimen is this,mate?) while walking outta more than one shop. The conversation everywhere was essentially the same:

S:boss,you people have band tees?

Shopkeeper(SK):sure sir,which brand do you want?

S:er,band,mate.. not brand. You have?

SK:bandaa??*incredulous look* er no sir,we don’t.

S:No?i m sure we saw one outside when we walked in. right?*waning confidence*

Me:hmmm lemme try.. dey,you have black tees?round neck?

SK:*face lightens up by several lumens* sir yes sirJ which colour do you want?red pink blue green?

S:dude!BLACK ROUND NECK!!?

SK:*frowns* sir… yes sir..*shuffles around uneasily,looks at colleague,colleague resolutely becomes interested in a speck of dust*

*picks out several tees from the shelf,thankfully black,none matching our description*

J(to a harrowed S):dey,machi,this aint working,our search engine needs better keywords to narrow down the field

J(to SK):boss,you have a black roundneck tee with prints of huge,menacing people on it?vverum jangaa.

SK:*scornful look,contempt writ large* oh,*those* tees.. no,er,sir.. We don’t bring em in these days,moving stock alla.

S:no wonder..*visibly disappointed*

SK:*with great reluctance*anything else,sir?

S:!@@#$%$^$W$%$^

Me:*groan*

The convo has been anglicized,but it was infinitely more side splitting in malayalam.Well,truth be told,we did come across some band tees,but much to our chagrin,LoG was missing.

S has still not got his tee,but like any valiant warrior,vows to strive endlessly till the day he treats his torso to a Lamb tee.. Optimism knows no bounds,I suppose..

Grumpy New Year:A weakly round up

2011-01-08T23:13:00.003+05:30

All good things come to an end

All not-so-good things also come to an end.

All good things have an uncanny knack of reaching the finish line in a hurry.

All awesome things shave a few days off the record set by all good things.

That,in a claustrophobia inducing nutshell,is a synopsis of my wonderful vacation in saddi dilli.:)

No wait,this requires some explanation. I ve been racking the ol lemon a good deal of late,trying to cook up something appropriate to give the blog a new lease of life. But the Blogger's block is like the mould that conveniently grows on an innocent loaf of bread you leave behind,you would rather not skim it off.Well,my point is:this blog was created with the intention of catering to the creative excesses i occasionally commit.Being that as it may,an occasional dear diaryesque post,like this,goes a long way in bringing the Blog back in circulation:)

Alright,rambling done and dusted with,I will get going with my weakly round up:)

The vacation got off to a rather uneventful start,a rather uneventful flight to the national capital,including a rather uneventful stopover at chennai,largely spent lapping up herr Wodehouse's magic,and shamelessly staring at,er,people in general;)

The flight was largely sleep inducing,dilli ki sardi is anything but:) There s something about winter that makes people compose odes in its honour:)And you wouldnt fault me for walking out of the airport,into the nippy winter evening with a spring in my steps.

Things assumed an upward curve thereafter,with two awesome meetups with school blokes,to quote a photo caption i lifted from facebook:The day we met after we became men:)

The best part of going home,however,is positioning your posterior on the comfy sofa,cocooned from head to toe with several layers of woollens,munching away at whatever you salvage from the kitchen(much to the mother's consternation). bliss. absolute. A possible fallout of this school of thought,however,is that you begin to mirror a couch potato(a bulbous,overfed,underworked potato,at that).Movie watchage also happened,Tarantino's death proof(paper thin storyline,kickass film),al pacino's and justice for all,scent of a woman(stupendous,stupendous),and a whole cartload of movies on telly.

All good things come to an end.

The end,again,was largely uneventful,an 18 hour delay notwithstanding,nothing to blog about;)

Realization dawns. dear diary aint my cuppa. Something better,next time,i promise,to quote the Indian Railways:asuvidha ke liye khed hai ;)

Alright then,i ll get back to dreaming about fog,hot water and rajaai:)toodles:)

Beverage Corporation to sue Kerala Tourism

2010-09-23T23:10:00.002+05:30

The Kerala Beverage Corporation(Bevco) today announced its intent to drag Kerala Tourism (KT) to court. Speaking at a press conference,the Managing Director said that it had taken strong offense to Bevco being given the snub in the recently released short film on kerala.

The film was released at a glitzy event in London,as part of the KT promotion drive,and was touted as being a glimpse of the diaspora on offer in God's Own Country.This however was subjected to immense ridicule by Kerala's sizeable drinking population.

"The tourism thingy is a whole lot of bullcrap,kerala's entire socio political framework is on display outside Bevco outlets,this is what defines a Malayali,this is our identity!!",said a remarkably eloquent and liberally greased gentleman waiting patiently for his pint.

"We have a certain responsibility towards society,we uphold the interests of every individual who savours his favourite label after a hard day's work.Another damning factor is the revenue Bevco pumps into the Government's coffers,surely you cant overlook that!!",said the managing director,who appeared to be pretty incensed.

Support poured in from entirely unexpected quarters.The School Teachers' Association has reportedly written to KT to look into the matter with eager urgency."The queue outside an outlet is the best place to teach young kids the virtues of discipline and patience.We re even contemplating organizing field trips for our students,such is the stature Bevco holds here",said a representative.

Bevco,will,in protest be downing shutters tomorrow,but have rushed in buffer stock so as to avoid possible mass suicides.

Justifying the lockdown,a store owner said,"a daily pint is of paramount importance to the average malayali,even more than their patram,beedi and chaaya(newspaper,beedi and tea)".

Kerala Tourism spokespersons were not available for comment as they were busy stocking up for tomorrow.However,unconfirmed reports do point to the possibility of an early out-of-court settlement,as KT seem to have realized their folly,and are ready to atone for their blasphemy.

Delhi roads to be turned into waterways

2010-09-03T20:28:00.003+05:30

In an epoch making move that has caught everyone by surprise,The Municipal Corporation of Delhi(MCD),announced its intent to cash in on the woeful waterlogging crisis by turning all roads into waterways and operating ferries. The announcement was followed,almost immediately,by bluelines flocking to the garage in a bid to dabble in remodelling and try passing off the buses as ferries.In completely unrelated news,a massive spurt in people signing up for swimming lessons was recorded.

"This just goes to prove that Delhi is an awesome city,a city that knows how to tide over difficulties. The Commonwealth Games will happen as per plan",said the chief minister Sheila Dikshit,though mediapersons at the press conference were left wondering what she meant.

"This move is primarily to ease the workload on our phone operators who are tired of hanging up each time people call in to report waterlogging",said a source who wished to remain anonymous.

The Delhi government has roped in beleagured,though still flamboyant ipl main man Lalit Modi to oversee the leasing out of various routes across the city to key corporate players who shall be given the responsibility of operating services.

Speaking to the press after the plan was unveiled,an ecstatic mr Modi said,"This is an honour. I m fpeechleff"

Allaying fears over the transparency of the whole process,he said,"The bidding shall be as per rules laid out by the government,there will be no foul play,mere lifp ki kasam!(i swear by my lisp)".

If all goes as per plan,Delhi will be the first city to turn a rather harrowing situation to its advantage.

Many cities all over the world have reportedly expressed interest in following in Delhi's footsteps.

Gunther Wvivelhof

2010-05-03T09:25:00.004+05:30

The mellow afternoon sun shone over Himmelsplatze,a sleepy little village nestled in the famed Black Forest of Germany and flanked by pristine snow capped peaks.

It was a very famous tourist destination and contributed a fair deal to Germany's coffers,but nothing served to destroy the tranquility and peace of the village.

This was what had appealed to Gunther Wvivelhof. He had been to this place many times on holiday as a child and had always wanted to get himself a small niche in this lovely place.

It was no wonder then,that he wasted no time in accepting the german government's offer of honorary citizenship and a cottage in this heavenly abode to atone for the atrocities they had inflicted on his family.

He could,however,never forgive the germans,Nazis to be specific for what they had done.They had destroyed his carefree,innocent,bubbly childhood..They had left an indelible scar on his psyche.. They had torn apart his peaceful existence and thrown him headlong into a terrifying abyss.. They had wiped out his entire family..

Memories came rushing back and overwhelmed the old man,as the events of that day unfolded viciously before his mind's eye,sending a menacing shiver down his spine.. He was a 10 year old lad then,living life to his fullest, oblivious to the mayhem the nazis were causing all over europe,and then,all of a sudden,the tragedy hit home..

He woke up That day to a cacaphony of wails and moans as his dad whisked him and his mum off to the cellar and asked them to hide underneath the floorboards.His tender mind failed to grasp the import of the situation,but did as he was told. His mum then told him,in the darkness,that the SS were rounding up all jews and sending them to concentration camps,and that they were safe where they were.Her words however,were drowned out in a deafening round of gunshots punctuated by screams,as the gunmen fired incessantly.. They had,somehow,chanced upon their hiding place.. Wvivelhof miraculously,survived..

What then followed was a flight for survival,as he somehow managed to escape to Great Britain,and many years were spent eking out a living doing odd jobs.. He however had revenge on his mind all the time,but could see no means of exacting the same.. It was then that he was reminded of a saying he had heard long back:The Pen Is Mightier Than The Sword.. A determined Wvivelhof hence channelled his hatred for the nazis into a stinging memoir:Beneath The Floorboards,and somehow managed to get it published,after enduring immense hardships.. The response was unexpected and unprecedented.. He became the face of the crusade against the diabolic Nazi empire,and his works fuelled the popular anti nazi sentiments..

In the summer of 1945,he was knighted.Gunther Wvivelhof had become an influential figure,in the movement against Adolf Hitler..

Thinking of all that he had done in his halycon days,he felt a surge of pride taking over his ageing body.. He had,in his own way made the Germans pay for what they had done to his family..

However,there was one issue which still didnt make sense to him.. It had remained a vexed matter all his life.. He somehow couldnt fathom how he had managed to dodge the bullets That day under the floorboards..

And it was then that the reason struck him,as he basked in the afternoon sun on his porch,a reason so simple and clear,he himself was astounded..

Sir Wvivelhof The Fittest...

ps:in case you are scratching your head with a ferocity reserved only for exams,this is my maiden attempt at a shenoyn :) Now,a Shenoyn is this long,labourious and construed story that ultimately culminates in an outrageous wordplay on a popular proverb/saying/phrase,like i ve endeavoured to do here:) Do check out Narendra Shenoy's blog for more awesome,groanworthy Shenoyns :)Needless to say,he is the pioneer :) You will find the link on my blog roll :) ta:)

pps:Please dont try and correlate historically :)

Spin a yarn

2010-04-26T09:42:00.001+05:30

I ve been hit by a rather overwhelming wave of nostalgia since morning.

What probably triggered this avalanche of memories could be the old copy of tinkle digest that i chanced upon while rummaging through my shelf.. :)

I ve always been a big fan of Tinkle.. Tickled the funny bone and provided food for thought in equal measure.. And it gave us a whole range of totally cult characters :)

Shikari shambhu,Kalia the crow,Tantri the mantri,Suppandi (my earliest definition of kickass:)) shall forever remain etched in my memory.. Btw, sample this suppandi classic:

Master:Hey,what are you upto?

Suppandi:Killing these mosquitoes master.. got 7 till now,4 male,3 female.

M:How on earth did you figure that out?

S:simple,master..4 were sitting on the cigarette pack,they re male.. the other 3 were on the mirror,hence female :)

M: :-o

But the section which intrigued and fascinated me the most was the it happened to me bit.. That our peers went through such peculiar experiences was totally awesome :)

So i decided to amble down memory line and hunt for a "it happened to me" to turn into a blog post :)

And i didnt have to put the leg muscles to much exercise,for i hit upon a relatively recent incident which can only be described as a manifestation of Murphy's Law ;)

This happened in 2008.. Our college life had just begun and we were all rather excited and looking forward to having a gala time on campus..

Thats as ironic as ironic can get.. Exciting and Happening are two words which have been struck off from my dictionary as far as college is concerned..

It is akin to the albatross strung around the mariner's neck.. A constant reminder of what could ve been had i taken my entrance coaching a bit more seriously.. ah damn,veering off course for a remorse as profound as this is not warranted,so i cut back to my storytelling :)

So,college had just begun when the mechanical department organised this totally awesome 3 day tech fest most aptly named Geared '08 at kanakakunnu palace,tvm..

It was the last day of the event and we were having a totally rollicking time,what with auto expos,stunt shows and other awesome events.. The weather gods however were not amused by this revelry,and called up the guy manning the rain department..

WG: sonny,em guys down there are having a blast and we aint likin it.. U got somethin to spice up things?

RG:uh,well we ve got a dozen rolling pins,arc lights and a decent water supply boss,ssat good for you?

WG:hmmm,that should be interesting,humour us..

RG:awright boss..

evidently,the rain guy performed his duty with utmost sincerity and dedication, the result being a torrential downpour in the evening..

it was getting rather dark and when there was a brief letup in the rain,me and two of my friends decided that legging it would be the ideal course of action.. We accordingly set course for the bus stop,fervently hoping that the guys upstairs would be kind enough to relent till we reached home.. That, however, was not to be and the rain started falling thick and fast.. It was then that we realised, in a manner reminiscent of ekta kapoor's serials,that we had just one blessed umbrella with us.. Three guys,one umbrella,and a slush fest.. Perfect,swell,excellent..

We huddled under the solitary u. and bravely trudged on ,all the while liberally trading expletives for the soup that we had landed ourselves in..

we'd been walking for close to 10 minutes,the bus stop was nowhere in sight,and it was then that the import of the situation hit us with full force.. We were walking down the wrong road!!!!!!

picture this:Three guys,relatively new to the city,walking down a deserted road,in total darkness,having no idea of where to go,one umbrella and torrential rains for company.. Most definitely scarier than rgv's phoonk 1and 2 put together!!;)

We stopped to measure our options. We could either turn around and walk back to base,or continue in the same direction,in ankle deep water,praying that the pwd had covered up all manholes.. we chose the latter..

Another 10 minutes of wading through the water yielded no signs of civilization,and the autorickshaws we d tried to flag down,gave us the finger and went past.. we were now officially stranded and positively scared out of our senses.. totally drenched and with the rain showing no signs of letting up,we were literally at our wit's end,when we suddenly spotted a tea stall round the corner!! :) our joy knew no bounds and our frayed nerves were immediately put to rest.. The stall guy told us that we d taken the wrong turn and had reached the Bakery junction !! I really aint privy to the various arteries of trivandrum and i still have no clue as to how we ended up at bakery junction from KP,but thats a different matter altogether :)

the stall guy directed us to the nearest bus stop,and thus ended an ordeal most unnerving..

Thinking of it now does evoke a few giggles,but the situtaion was anything but hilarious as it unfolded... A most harrowing half an hour it was,aint gonna forget this in a hurry :) Ta..

Lets break the monotony.

2010-04-23T16:34:00.002+05:30

You know this thing about delhi's summer? apart from the plethora of adjectives its adorned with,viz.relentless,punishing,scorching so on and so forth,i d like to add one more to the burgeoning list: BORING!! The upper case hopefully drives home the emphasis.

For starters,you just cannot step out of your home during these blighted months!! A sadistic,diabolic sphere,most dubiously named the sun,and the all pervading layer of dust that descends on this city during summer work in tandem to put paid to any hopes of venturing outside..

And as the gentleman named murphy so correctly conjectured,if things can go wrong,they most definitely will go wrong.

My beloved system has started acting up, it takes an eternity to load,so much so that i m actually contemplating starting a workshop to impart the virtue of patience,i can literally mint money..

And i dare not switch on the telly,as its been draped in ipl s shroud.. So,to cut a rather long story short, i m totally bored.. But what actually causes saline insertion in an already deep incision is the fact that i ve hauled all my books all the way from tvm as i ve my sem exams to sit thru in may.. imagine trying to study in this sort of dreary weather.. inhuman!!

And had it not been for the good ol ac, i would ve resembled a kwality walls cup kept out in the sun.. And today dawned no different,searing heat,faced with another lethargic day at the office... The tentacles of boredom were creeping up thick n fast, when the thought of my fledgling blog graced the good ol lemon and presented an avenue for breaking the shackles of this monotonous existence..

This post,people,is just what the title claims it is lol.. hmmm,what else to write eh? its been a largely uneventful passage of time..

Alright,i guess i ll stop,else chances of bein showered with the choicest of expletives is pretty high lol.. ta.

Lets Set The Ball Rolling!!Take 2

2010-04-13T12:28:00.000+05:30

Yipee!!:) i ve finally put into practise wat i d been contemplating over the past few weeks.. A weblog for myself! so,now i can also become the suave,url toting blogger.. great!!Fantastic!ubercool!!Alright,hang on..In the midst of this euphoria,i m committing one grievous crime.. I am distorting the truth..Its evident from the contradiction in the title..U see,try as you might,you really cannot initiate rolling motion in a ball thats already kicking up dust..physics purists might want to fight this contention tooth to nail,but i dont want to go into the intricacies of the situation,coz i dont want to cause mr newton the distinct discomfort of having to turn in his archaic grave.. coming back to the point,u see,i had already had my blogging arangetram on blogger s sworn enemy, wordpress!! haha reminds you of the shoaib-sania affair na? its only after roshny chechi suggested giving wordpress the finger coz of inherent minus points as compared to blogger that i made the switch,and its actually better than wordpress!! oh well,i guess its not a big thing after all,in this age of car,mobile,sim and wife hopping lol.. so hear i am,typing away furiously at my blighted mobile keypad,churning out my first post on blogger.. alright,i guess i must stop,else this post is in imminent danger of becoming a mindless rant lol cheerio.. ps:i still aint privy to the nuances of creating links,that explains the absence of any even though i should have incorporated them..kindly bear eh..