I generally don’t like to link news items on this blog…but this one time…I would like it to be an exception.
In Chennai, a 37-year-old woman committed suicide to fulfill her wish of providing eyesight to her two blind sons. If only it were not 12.30 a.m. now, I would have called up my mother and spoken a few kind words…but I am calling her for sure. Read Full Story
If you are a Tamil or Telugu movie buff, you probably know Ranjith Nair. Having sung 23 Tamil and six Telugu song, one can safely assume that he is an up coming signer. You can listen to his Tamil or Telugu songs by clicking on the links.
Just in case you think I sing my own praise, I guess I should let you know that two years back, both of us came up with an Hindi Music Album…which we tried to sell…but fell. Music and voice was by Ranjith. Lyrics was by me. Don’t know whom to blame for the fiasco…now, why you staring at me like that? I did no wrong…
I am a vegetarian. Don`t ask me why. I don`t want to go through the turmoil all over again. On second thoughts, I might as well tell you. At least…you won`t be addicted to chicken….and in the process lose your life.
This happened well before my marriage, so you won`t find Rekha`s name mentioned in this story. Some break, for me too.
Think I was 25 years old…and I was in love with chicken. No, I did not tell my parents. They would have scolded me….not that they were vegetarians…but they did not like chicken. There was opposition at home. But, I held steadfast…I was in love with chicken…and I would have my way.
When I got up in the morning, I would be thinking of chicken…and when I went to bed, the same thoughts would be on my mind. So much so, I started spending my time looking at it from my study window. I would spend the whole day at the window.
I never had the guts to tell my parents. They would have called me a chicken…but to tell you frankly…I loved chicken. And I wanted to get married to it.
Somehow, on my 26th birthday (that is exactly one year after falling in love with the chicken my mother was rearing in our backyard) I gathered the courage to tell my parents. Initially, they thought I was joking.
After a few days of desperate convincing they agreed to our marriage. Yes…me and a chicken. I know, you probably think how a man can fall in love with a chicken…keep wondering…like I care.
Initially, I hated the chicken. But, because I would be studying in the backyard in the evenings, we met often. I would look away whenever she looked at me…over a period of time, I gathered the courage to look into her eyes. One day, I realized…she was yearning for love. Perhaps, I was her Prince Charming.
I would give her some grains, and she would peck on my hands…those were sweet moments. On some days – like when I had exams – I won`t have time for her and she would start pecking at my sandals….showing her anger…till I gave her some attention.
This went on till, one fine day I decided that I could not live without her. I proposed to her. Surprisingly, she continued pecking at the grains…and then it stuck me…how could a chicken tell me that she was ready for marriage. Chickens don`t talk…or do they?
Once my bewildered parents (one cannot expect to make the whole World happy about one`s choice) were ready for the marriage, I went to her pen (a hen`s house is called a pen).
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I was shocked…my chicken had just given birth to an elephant. Yes, an elephant. I am sure, you are as shocked reading this as I was seeing that small elephant crawling out of an egg.
As if her adventures with the father-elephant were not enough…there was an angry cock (her second boy-friend) ….trying to strangle her. The chicken I once loved, stood there struggling…but I did not go for her help.
My castles came tumbling down…the she had been three-timing, all the while pretending that she loved me. Ever since, I have hated chicken. After one funeral (yes, I murdered her) and a wedding (with Rekha) I am still a vegetarian.
This has been written to help you overcome your chicken-eating habit. If you turn vegetarian, you can avoid three things (remember the chicken was three-timing) – unhealthy body, animal-killing and falling in love with chicken!
Note: The picture that you see on top is the last frame of my relationship with my first love.
I think it was the summer of 69. Or was it 62? Either way it was a summer to remember.
This is a very insignificant incident that happened in my life. I know, it might scare the S*&^t out of you, but for me…it was plain vanilla.
I was then on Indian soil, for I still remember stepping on some shit. The Chinese had started bombarding, and we had taken cover. Or do you think, I need to give you some more backgrounder before I proceed with my story?
I had joined the Indian Army, and in the early 1960s was posted at Aksai Chin region of Ladakh. Today, that land is with China. But it was Indian when this story of mine begins.
In the 1962 India-China war Aksai Chin was captured along with 33,000 square kilometers of Indian territory. China doesn`t accept it as Indian land and says India has captured its area – which is supposed to be Arunachal Pradesh.
Ever since, India-China have mended their fences. That is, they have put in place stronger fences on the border. But that doesn`t concern us. What concerns us is the day when I single-handedly brought China on its knees, and how just because I did not have a box of matches…India lost the India-China war.
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In those days, we would always be in our war fatigues – the clothes Indian politicians had bought for their country`s soldiers. How much I wish, they hadn`t accepted the kickbacks before signing the contract…for we could not spend a night in those clothes without drinking in a bottle of rum. It was so cold. Once the rum went in, we did not need the clothes. Mind you all this was happening when the mountains were snow-clad.
I even remember the day when some Chinese soldiers could not see us in our ‘birthday` clothes and ran for their lives. Later, we realized the Chinese soldiers had run INTO India. We never told our superiors that we saw some Chinese soldiers, loaded with guns and ammunitions, run into India.
As I was saying, everyday I would get up outside of the tent. Perhaps, it had to do with this unique habit of my tent-mate – he believed that we did not need a sentry in the night, instead whenever we get up to pee in the night (and it being cold, that would be often), we should fire a few rounds in the air. I would have stayed on in the tent…but for two reasons. First, our tent did not have a roof…the tarpaulin had been blown off by my firing-in-the-air tent-mate. Second, whenever he got up to pee, he would fire…and then I would pee ….needless to say, in my pants. I was s*%t scared of the Chinese.
The best option was to get off the tent. No, I am not making this up for the daily dose of rum. That was free…and anyways, I was not married then….and hence did not need any excuse.
This went on. One day…our battalion decided to move to Arunachal Pradesh. That was a peaceful area…and everyone jumped up with happiness. Not me. I wanted to fight for my country and prove that I was not the son of a hunter, wild animals that had never seen. The closest my father had ever gone to a wild animal was when I fell down into the bear pit, and he climbed down to give me a sedative (and not take me)…so that I don`t cry and wake up the sleeping bears.
As I was saying…my whole battalion left and I was made sentry of the temporary toilets that the army units generally build wherever they travel (more so in the fighting zones). Generals like Napolean Bonaparte and Chingiz Khan have used these shit-holes as the primary level of defense, but not the Indian Army sir…we were fully armed to the teeth. We had soldiers who would have Pan Parag, and were ready to burst their mouth open whenever an enemy was in the vicinity.
Being the only man in the whole of 33,000 square kilometer region could be boring. Maybe, if I had a few sheep to talk to, I would have been fine…but the yaks that I met were not interested in conversation. Days passed, and then months.
You might think I lost my mind or something like that. But no…I was on the border. Don`t ask me what I ate and what I wore…and how I slept. That is classified.
Here are some snippets from the diary that I kept during the attack –
April 18, 1962, 9.30 a.m.
I realize I have to do something. The Chinese are accumulating their soldiers and arms across the border. I dress up…
April 18, 1962, 11.30 a.m.
I have decided to surprise the Chinese. I will attack them, when they would be least expecting it.
April 18, 1962, 12.00 noon
I spot one hole in the Chinese fence (so the Chinese did not mend their fence after all…they were just fooling us) and decide to sneak in.
April 18, 1962, 12.45 p.m.
I am in China. My secret attack on China is on. Hope it is not painful.
April 19, 1962, 7.00 p.m.
I killed one Chinese…goat…I think. I can`t be without food for more than two days. They never taught us this in Defence College.
April 20, 1962, 7.00 a.m.
I am captured…by the farmers. My disguise works. They think I am a petty Indian thief. They want to send me back….but I want to stay and attack.
April 20, 1962, 12.00 noon
I am in a Chinese jail. My strategy is working fine. I befriend the pick-pocket inside the jail. Looks like Bahadur, whom we see in so many Hindi movies.
April 21, 1962, 12.00 noon
I am taken to a judge. Who announces that I should be jailed in Beijing Central Jail.
April 22, 1962, 1.00 p.m.
I am in a prison van, being transported to Beijing. My plan fits my hand as my pocket…or is it the glove?
April 23, 1962, 6.00 p.m.
We reach the Beijing Central prison. Incidentally, the Chinese Premier is visiting the prison to give away steel rods to the jail wardens. China sure is a different country. Could not get close to the Premier; looks like he forgot to wear deodorant.
April 24, 1962, 4.00 a.m.
I try to escape from prison. I am caught and put in a cell with the notorious Russian Nuclear scientist called Fuclear Nission.
April 24, 1962, 9.30 p.m.
Scientist Fuclear Nission is now a friend. Nobody knows yet, but he even showed me a nuclear bomb under his bed.
April 24, 1962, 11.30 p.m.
The scientist is sleeping, and I have decided to die a martyr`s death….I am going to explode that nuclear bomb so that the whole of China is history. Shucks…I don`t have a box of matches. Note: Never smoke too much when you plan to attack a country.
April 25, 1962, Full Day
Feel pathetic about not being able to find a match box and light that nuclear bomb. Tried the prison kitchen…seems like they use Gobbar gas. Never knew the nuclear bomb looked like a candle …only the nuclear bomb gives a nice jasmine fragrance. Wonder if it would smell of jasmine when I light it …and it explodes.
April 26, 1962, 10.30 a.m.
I am released from prison. Exchanged at the border with other prisoners….but there is no hero`s welcome. If only I had a box of matches, and I had blown that nuclear bomb…today there would be no China …and I would be a war hero!
I still have the nuclear bomb in my house – including my wife and you only five others know of it. BTW, you can call me Field Marshall Rajan….
This is a true story, but the names and places have been changed to ensure their privacy.
Not so long back, in a village there used to live a young man called Rajan. He was always insecure… sometimes he would even end up taking pregnancy tests. Of course, he never got pregnant.
It was very scary in the insecure World that he lived in. He got sacked from his job, his wife threw him out of the house, his wife would even pull his plate from under his nose when he took his already soiled hands to the plate to grab a morsel of food….you name it and he was capable of imagining it.
One thing that kept him in one piece was his prayers. He prayed each day and soon enough…they had some effect. All of a sudden, he was at peace with himself.
The day he realized he was happy and pretty secure…he noticed odd incidents in his house. His Dove soap was wet when he walked in to take bath. His towel was wet and had been placed on the ironing board – something he would have never done. The toilet hadn`t been flushed. And two of his diapers were missing. Rajan had taken to wearing diapers because he was insecure about his water bag`s abilities (read urinary bladder). Mind you all this when Rajan was all of 30 years old.
These sudden changes made him suspicious. He knew there was somebody else in the house, besides his wife. Somebody more dangerous, for he was not visible. From the way the person had left the towel on the iron-board, Rajan could deduce that he got to be a man – a physically powerful adversary.
After a few days of suspicious living, wherein Rajan re-entered his days of insecurity…the 30-year-old lad from Madurai decided enough was enough and decide to keep a night-watch on the intruder.
To calm his nerves, he gulped down half a bottle of whiskey and hide behind the carton in which the refrigerator had come packed. Though he never liked it…he could not throw the dusty carton because his wife wouldn`t let him. But that day…the refrigerator carton came in handy. Talking of handy….he also took his Sony handy-cam to film (or take pictures) of this intruder in his house.
Perhaps, it was the dust in the carton, or the whiskey….Rajan was feeling very sleepy. Had it not been for the fear of dropping the handy-cam (which would have led to a month-long cold war with his wife) …Rajan would have slept and missed all the action.
At 12 in the mid-night they came. It was not one man…but two men…more of boys…actually small kids. Young boys with wings on their backs.
Rajan was confused. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming, but all the smoke in the room was proving otherwise. These small kids were actually smoking. He could clearly see that they were wearing diapers.
“Those are mine,” he muttered. But even before he finished, he noticed both the small boys were drinking beer. It was his mini-beer bottle.
They seemed too young to be thieves. They also had wings…and wore diapers (his though)…who could they be? Rajan thought long and hard…and then it struck him…they were angels. As soon as he realized that, he picked up his handy cam and snapped a few pictures.
Now, he could hear the two drunken angels speaking.
“Nice hangout, eh?” Angel One (sounds like Agent One) was saying even as he puffed at Rajan`s Gold Flake Kings.
“I did not quite like it. Kind of stuffy. I wish we had got that Kareena Kapoor assignment.” Angel Two replied.
“Yeah. Me too. I heard she is pretty.”
“Do you like this dude…Rajan.?”
“Looks like a creep to me. Wonder why we are sent to Earth to watch such creeps. I hate my job…but I cannot revolt. There is a dearth for jobs in heaven.” Angel One exclaimed.
“I also hate the bugger. His wife treats him like shit ….perhaps that is the reason for all his problems.” Angel2 sided with Rajan.
“Maybe… but as soon as we are finished with this beer and the cigarettes, and as soon as we get ourselves a new pair of diapers…we will rush out of here.”
“Sure mate. Whatever you say….after all when I did not like it you rushed out of that sex maniac Shakti Kapoor`s house.”
Rajan listened to their discussion in rapt attention and somehow fell asleep.
In the morning, he woke up in his bed…his handy-cam next to his pillow. Initially, it all seemed like a dream …and then he noticed the crack in his handy-cam. He checked for the most recent pictures….and saw the angels. He had actually captured the angels….drinking and smoking.
He tried contacting the top media people…BBC, CNN, Times…but nobody would buy his story and pictures. Obviously, his next stop was the World`s 4th best news site – The Ouchmytoe Daily. You first read about the Fallen Angels, here!
Why are other people stupid? We’ll tell you! Do you have a lack of common sense or decency? We’ll make you famous!
Click Here to check out this neat Blog – http://culture.pascal55.com/
Ronald David Laing said that. And I agree with him.
What do we take home when we all die? Nothing. Why then do we grapple for material things for three-fourths of our lives…and realize we were all doing wrong when our sons/ daughters prison us in cheap old age homes?
I don`t expect an answer from you. After all, Buddha himself did not get an answer to this question when he asked his followers 2,500 years ago. Perhaps, because then there were no old-age homes.
I love my life. The only regret is, I should have been my wife Rekha, and she should have been me. That would have been real fun. Presently, because she is she …life is one trouble after another. Or should I say one trouble over another.
Life is not what was painted by the likes of Williams Shakesphere (sometimes, I wonder if he was a CIA agent based out of London), Mark Twain or our own Rabindranath Tagore (I use his name because he is the only old, wise man I remember). It is a bore. What better proof can I present before the jury than the fact that you guys are reading this pathetic Blog.
Throughout our lives we run after pleasure – of all kinds. Financial pleasure being the most sought after because it can buy the other kinds of pleasure. Little do we realize that man doesn`t need money to be happy.
Perhaps because I have enough money for the rest of my life, I am a happy man. That is, till Rekha decides to buy something.
Here is a small poem (or haiku) that I wrote thinking of my life (some call it wife)…
What is life,
Without a wife?
What is life,
Without a strife?
I know you probably think Osama can write a better poem on a bomb. (He sure can…it is easy to write a poem on a bomb. You just need a pencil.)
Still reading? You must have left when I first mentioned that my Blog was a bore…anyways now that you have stuck on…keep reading. As I was saying…life is pathetic. But as they say of all Rajini movie it is a must-see. At least once.
I wonder how boring an average Joe`s life must be. I know a few think that I live a rocking life…and only I know how boring I can be. The only person who can challenge me is my neighbor and he is a life insurance agent!
This picture of Microsoft boss Bill Gates was taken after a traffic violation on April 29, 1975. The Albuquerque Police department would arrest him two more times on charges of speeding and driving without a license.
Not surprisingly, details of the arrest have been lost over time. Did somebody just say that the data was stored in computers?