May 31, 2009

Happy Birthday Kiruku!!!

Me: Happy Birthday Kiruku! It feels like you were born yesterday, and you are already three years old!!!

Kiruku: That’s it? Just 'Happy Birthday'? No party, no cake, no gifts?

Me: Er... Cakes and parties and gifts are for real people in the real world. You are just a virtual creation. Technically, you don’t even exist!

K: What do you mean I am not real? If anything, I am more real than you.

Me: And how is that?

K: You see, you exist in a world where people never let down their guard. So, you watch your words, seldom show your true nature, shy away from toilet humour, are politically correct and diplomatic... essentially, you hide yourself behind this image of what you think people like to see. And you interact with other people who have their own masks. And all of you go around pretending that everything is hunky-dory.

Me: Whoa! Wait a minute...

K: I, on the other hand, am blunt, in your face, crack stupid jokes, compose crappy rhymes, express strong opinions without fear of what others think, and you know... be the definition of WSYIWYG.

Me: Man, for a three year old, you do think very highly of yourself! Sorry to shatter your ‘I am the reality’ illusion, but you see, I live in a world where I can’t hide who I am. If I am short, pot-bellied, bald and ugly, I can’t pretend to be Brad Pitt. Or Hugh Jackman. Or whoever is the latest sexiest man alive. If I am terribly shy in front of people, especially girls, I have to deal with it. I can’t suddenly shave off my moustache, wear tight tees and do dance pe chance maaro with girls half my age.

K: So?

Me: You, on the other hand, don’t have a face. Or a belly. You are a screen, and people can imagine what they want about you. You can project yourself to be this smart, suave guy and no one will ever know the truth. In fact, they won’t even care. Just because some people say you are funny (and that too because they are polite) doesn’t mean you are this stud with a fan following. Wake up and smell the coffee. Molachu moonu elai vidale, paecha paaru!

K: Dude, watch your tongue. My mental age is higher than yours.

Me: Heh, keep dreaming.

K: I even had an image makeover recently. And I have a much better social life. I have a princess visiting me, people from US and UK saying hi, and lately, even an anonymous fan! Even your friends from your so called ‘real’ world come and say hi to me. You on the other hand, spend your weekends playing AoE on your comp.

Me: Whoa, I do go out for dinner with friends. And even movies occasionally.

K: Just because some people are kind enough to tolerate your nonsense and accommodate you once in a while! And keep copying my PJs and soon, even they’ll run out of patience.

Me: Ok ok, what will you take to shut up?

K: Nothing.

Me: Thank you!

K: I meant I won’t shut up. I will keep talking. I talk, therefore I am. The day I run out of things to say, I’ll die.

Me: Here’s wishing you a long life. Even if you continue to say stupid things. Cheers!


PS: Yes, as you guessed it, the blog turns three. And it has been a wonderful journey. Don't tell him (it?) though.

May 26, 2009

Why I did not enter the temple...

I just stood back and looked at my Mom
As her face struggled to hide her mind’s storm
When she went in the temple, and I stayed out
“In a family that is so pious and devout,
Why did this son have to break the norm?”

“Oh God, he did accompany me all the way”
I knew she was pleading, as I watched her pray,
chanting myriad sholkas to ward off His wrath
since I had apparently dishonoured my holy jaath!
While she arranged the flowers on the puja tray…

I watched amused as she rang the temple bell
Presumably to save me from an eternity in hell
The huge brass thing went ding dong ding dong
Every ring resounding, to dispel my grave wrong
She stood there rooted, as if under a magic spell…

She asked “Why do you have to be so brash?”
as she smeared on my forehead some holy ash,
I just smiled, as she ran her hands over the lamp
And then over my eyes, while hers turned damp,
“who do you think you are, Ogden Nash?”

Now, why didn't I enter the famous temple?
The reason is pretty straight and simple;
before you go ahead and brand me an atheist
please note, outside, there was a visual feast
in the form of a goddess, with a cute dimple...

May 22, 2009

Boring Friday Afternoon...

First, just as I was getting out of bed,
You made me slip and bang my head…
While I struggled to get that one last wink,
I never really stopped to somehow think
That you were going to make me see red!

Second, in the morning, in that shared rick
You put me up with that stupid little prick!!!
Is it really such an impossibly difficult task,
For Your Almighty Highness, may I humbly ask,
to instead send along a cute little single chick???

Then, I went to have my mid-morning tea
And lo behold, what do I presently see?
A fully empty (glucose) biscuit jar
Leading me to give gaalis do-chaar
While you listened, smiling with glee…

After that comes the stupid stoooopid lunch
Although, by now, I should have had a hunch
But, God, badly cooked Chinese fried rice!!!
Sometimes, your tricks are not at all nice
Frankly, right now, I’d throw you a bloody punch!!!

So now, on this dreary Friday afternoon,
All I ask of Thee is a single little boon!
Please grant me a relaxing weekend,
With no meetings or con-calls to attend…
Or am I already asking for the Moon?
PS: Alarmed by anonymous 24 year olds commenting on her son's blog, the mom is rushing to bombay to ensure that her son hasn't gone 'bad' and become a 'small wall'. So, while the son attends to her, he might not be updating the blog for a week or so.

May 15, 2009

A blog about a block...

What does one do when one's life is as interesting as watching paint dry?
One comes up with really stupid lamericks that make people cry!!!

So, here goes...

"All your personal sites lead to bandwidth clog"
The IT dept. revived a dead horse, once again to flog
So, they come up with something called Websense
though I believe it should actually be called nonsense
damn, it even blocked out my nice little blog!

When will those damn guys realise
that gmail and yahoo are not a vice
that checking cricinfo for today's score
doesn't really make one a kaamchor
will somebody answer our SOS cries??

where there is a will, there is a way
at least that's what the wise men say
people are learning how to bypass
after all, they do need some timepass
work's not just about the In-and-out tray!!

You may threaten with all your might
But we'll not go down without a fight
We'll continue visiting orkut/facebook
by all means, by hook or by crook
have you never heard of 'proxy site'?

I hope you know we are in a slow down
btw, that's not a verb, it's actually a noun
why would you want to increase your spend?
and make rules, that people will break and bend
and end up making you look like a clown!

PS: While the break from frentic blogging can be partially blamed on the web(non)sense thingy, I should also admit that I am running out of ideas. Which, according to some, is not a bad thing.

May 5, 2009


There are a plethora of how-to books and articles in the market. How to lose weight, how to score with girls, how to get rich, how to retire early, how to improve your sex life etc etc.

This one below will make as much sense as any of them, IMHO...

So, without boring you further, let's head straight to "How to frighten a tiger! In his own den!"

Step 1: Take a huge, noisy vehicle which clatters and clangs at every bump and trough in the wild road. No rubber lining on the doors, please. See below for illustration.

Pic credit:

Step 2: Get a full blown Gujju family as your co-passengers. The ideal family shall include one floral print bush shirt with cream trousers wearing uncle, one ill-fitting tee-wearing aunty, their old, half bent if-I-see-a-tiger-I'll-die-of-fright maaji, two daughters, atleast one of which should be wearing a shocking pink top which glitters in the sunlight.

Step 3: Say nothing while said Gujju family does what typical Gujju families do. (Aside: Whatever you say counts for zilch, so save your breath). Explanations given below for reference.

Explanation 3a: Gujju aunty would loudly open Kurkure packet (1 No.), biscuit packets (2 Nos.) and offer it to everyone in the vehicle. Yes, even to poor Michael from UK sitting in the corner trying to ignore the antics. Offering Nice biscuits is her way of being nice.

Explanation 3b: Gujju aunty would request you to pass on water bottles, shawl, biscuit and miscellaneous other items from her seat in the third row to thirsty, shivering, hungry maaji sitting in the first row. Of course, Gujju aunty would realize that we are not supposed to talk, and thus would whisper loudly to you. Or worse, poke you. Not Facebook style. You, of course, should helpfully sit in the second row.

Explanation 3c: Gujju uncle would shout "Arre, thepla devanu" (ok, pardon my gujrati), when he sees some deer. (note to dim-witted readers: Not even deer in the wild can resist the irresistable urge to taste some methi thepla.)

Explanation 3d: Gujju daughter number one would wave the packet of Kurkure at a herd of elephants. If at first, they ignore, she'd wave harder. GD No.1 would also make strange noises while waving.

Explanation 3e: When the vehicle reaches the spot where there are three other vehicles waiting (noiselessly!) near a bush, and one of the drivers puts a finger on his lips to indicate we should maintain silence, Gujju daughter number two would helpfully make "tch tch tchu" noises, as if trying to call out to a dog. The expression on the face of the firangs who have been waiting there for an hour and a half is a sight to behold, much better than any tiger can offer. 

Step 4: Sit back and marvel at the ability of a single non-violent, peace-loving, Gandhiji-birth state-native, pure-vegetarian-not-even-onion-eating family's ability to frighten the majestic king of the jungle into hiding. Armed with nothing more than a packet of Kurkure, and a shocking pink top.

Step 5 (Bonus tip): Rest your eyes on the bare shoulders of the feminine half of the honeymooning couple in the front row. Try to remember whether the dress she's wearing is what they call a halter-neck. Try not to cringe at the purple bra-straps peeking out. (Important: Resist urge to pull said strap and see whether it snaps back with a pop sound!!!).


PS: Regional non-discrimination disclaimer: I have nothing against Gujjus. Some of my best friends come from that state. 

PS2: Inspired from Son-of-Bosey's "Wash Basin is not a verb" joke: Spotted Deer is not a verb!!