Keeping a secret

Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead.
Benjamin Franklin (1706 – 1790)

How right Benjamin Franklin was – and why not? After all, he was an intelligent man. Ask a woman and she would say ‘intelligent man` is an oxymoron. For those of you who don`t know Benjamin Franklin…he was the guy who invented bifocals, lighting rod, Franklin stove, and odometer.

Even as I sit in front of my computer I carry with me a huge secret. Had it not been for the strength of my character I would have revealed it to the public by now and made a fool of myself. But we Maduraites are born strong and determined and don`t give in to pressure. If you don`t believe me ask my Reporting Manager at work…whatever pressure tactics she uses, I always deliver beyond the due date.

I have always loved keeping secrets. There was this incident which happened when I was in class seven. A very studious, so-called Tam Bram class mate of mine walked up to me and said: “Can you keep a secret?”

“Sure. I can.”

“Nahh. I doubt if you can.” My classmate didn`t seem impressed by my convincing.

“Serious. Did you know that I am actually the Spiderman?”

“No. I didn`t know,” my friend looked surprised.

“That`s the extent to which I can keep secrets.” I think I made a mark with that statement.

“Are you serious? Are you the Spiderman?” I could see respect for me in my friend`s eyes.

“Yes.”

“Wow…I have always wanted to meet Spiderman.” Even as he was saying this sentence my classmate was holding my hand and feeling it. Maybe to check if Spiderman was a flesh-and-blood man.

“Are you convinced enough to tell me the secret?” I persisted.

“Well, here is the secret ….My father told me. He works for Research and Analysis Wing (RAW) and is privy to some of top-level, classified information.”

“Wow…now what is this secret?”

“The secret is…the Indian Government has hidden a Nuclear bomb in the Indian Ocean. Including you, me and my father only six people know – so please keep it to yourself.”

My classmate did sound honest. Nuclear bombs were important too…otherwise America wouldn`t have dropped just two of them in Japan and kept the other 2482 nuclear bombs for themselves. I decided to keep the secret.

I kept it closeted in my heart for 20 years. But then, even RAW de-classifies information after every 20 years. So, for those who don`t know yet…there is a nuclear bomb hidden in the Indian Ocean.

After 20 years of keeping the secret hidden in my heart…I still have a doubt…if only six people (which included his father, him and me) knew about the bomb being there…I gather the other three should have been the Indian President, the Indian Prime Minister and the Army General. What happened to all those who placed it under the Indian Ocean?

Ten things you will never hear your husband say

– I like you in those tight-fitting jeans.
– Looks like you didn`t wax your hands.
– I just called up your father.
– May I do the dishes?
– Why don`t you call me at work?
– Everybody liked the lunch I carried with me today.
– My mother wasn`t as good a cook as you are.
– If you have a headache, that`s fine. I can understand.
– Let me take you out for an ice-cream.
– What does your mother like?

Note: Add more if you can….

Sorry for the interruption

Jammy, the Superman is meeting up with Lady in the Water and in her hands will be nothing but a Little Man. As soon as he handles The Devil who Wears the Prada, he will be back in the Monster House to write a blog post.

What is unique about these sentences?

When I was a famous jockey

This is part of my series where I look at an image and come up with a story. Here are my two earlier, similar attempts – On why I hate chicken and Fallen Angels

You probably don`t know but I was once a very famous jockey. Serious. OK fine…if you don`t believe me…I have proof…I am just 165 cms tall!

Being a famous jockey helped me hobnob with the best of the society. During the day I mixed with the prettiest ladies in the land and at night I mixed drinks with business magnates. My life was great, except when I was on the race track.

I was not always a famous jockey. There was a time when like you I was also a normal human being with a 9-5 job in an IT company. Back then the times were good – we are talking about the pre-1999 era when it was cool to be an IT person. I had loads of money in my hands (and pockets too). Wanting to buy a house I bought the latest issue of Yellow Pages and started browsing ….as I ran my finger down the print, I saw it “House for Sale” in bold. The house was in the area where I wanted my house to be – Mylapore.

In no time, Namita Chatterjee – that was the girl I was dating back then – and I left in my Maruti 800. Back then, as soon as you got thro` the interview in an IT firm, a gift-wrapped Maruti 800 was dispatched to your house. For somebody like me, who had just come in from Madurai (a small town in Tamil Nadu), Namita was a fast girl…she wore noodle straps, drank vodka, and danced at discos and she was the girl I wanted to woo and marry. Little did I realize that she was using me as a driver. Not a screw driver…just a driver. When I think back now, I feel she was doing to me what my wife is now doing – use me as a driver, peon, assistant, secretary, financial consultant etc.

By 2 p.m. we reached the place and rang the bell. I couldn`t help but notice the black horse tied in the courtyard of the house.

“Hi, I am here to buy your house,” I said.

“So did you like it?”

I could see only 10% of the house from where I stood. I asked him if I could enter the house. After all, before buying the house I needed to see the wood work, the wash rooms, plumbing etc.

He came up with a polite refusal: “You know, the whole of my family is sleeping. Can you come in some other day please?”

Being an honest, chaste man I understood his predicament. “So when do I pay for the house?”

“You know it is an Appaloosa. Very costly.”

I didn`t know what Appaloosa was but I knew I couldn`t let Namita know my ignorance. Must be some famous builder in Chennai, I told myself and kept quite.

I nodded to whatever he said about the house. He said it was sturdy and had great stamina. I gathered it as an obvious reference to the fact that the house had been built ten years back but still looked new. He didn`t seem to have good pronunciation for instead of saying this “house is a good build”, he ended up saying “this house is a good breed.”

“That`s fine how much of advance do I need to pay?” I asked getting impatient.

“Pay as much as you want to…you know what it is worth.” The house owner seemed like a good negotiator. Never commit a price before you get the other party`s opinion…for all you…he/she might be willing to pay a higher price than what you are going to quote.

“I will pay one lakh now and the rest after the papers are signed.” I wonder if Namita`s presence mattered. Was I trying to impress her? I remember my college days when my class mates used to come to me and ask for money only when I was with girls…they knew circumstances would work in their favor.

The house owner looked flabbergasted but held his own and said: “You look like an honest man. For that much advance I am willing to sign the papers right now.”

I paid the old man his one lakh rupees and signed the documents with an air of superiority in my eyes. Even as the old man put in his initials he was all praise for me. He did mutter something about the Indian Economy…I think he said it was booming.

Namita would now know that I was an honest man, I thought.

“Ok old man, I will come over in a week`s time and pay you the rest. When do you plan to vacate the house?”

“Why?”

“I just bought your house. I will pay you the rest in a week`s time and I expect the house to be empty when I come back.”

“What are you saying? I though you were buying my black house which is tied in the courtyard.”

Then it stuck me…this guy couldn`t pronounce horse properly and I had just been duped.

“I saw an advertisement in Yellow Pages and came here to buy a house,” I said getting all worked up.

“Exactly, that`s what I am telling you. You came here to buy a house…and you have just bought it for one lakh. Now go.”

Namita was listening to all this. I could earn the one lakh back…but I was sure earning her confidence would be costly (diamonds are costly, aren`t they?). I decided to make a quick exit.

I reined in the horse and mounted it. Believe me, it is an easy job if the horse is under the influence of beer. Apparently, rum can make it dangerous. Namita drove the car.

As luck would have it…the next day the dotcom boom burst. I never got a chance to gift Namita diamonds…my Maruti 800 was taken away the moment they gave me the pink slip…all my savings had gone.

With no job at hand and no money in my pocket…but a horse tied outside my house…I got into horse racing. Apparently, Appaloosas are the best race horses and win without any effort…thus, I was winning races.

As I said earlier, I became a famous jockey and stared hobnobbing with the best in the society. This went on till Jaswant Singh, who has just released a book titled “A Call to Honor” accused my horse of being a mule…and it was disqualified from participating in any race horses. As soon as I changed my horse…I became the slowest racer in the circuit. The picture you see above was taken during one such race – needless to say I came last.

Superstition

Last Saturday Rekha and I went to drop off my mother and younger sister at the railway station. They were catching the 9 p.m. Nellai Express to reach Madurai on Sunday morning.

We got into the car – I in my favorite driver`s seat – took the right turn to reach the apartment`s exit gate…and right then, in front of my eyes a black cat crossed our car. I jammed the brakes.

“What happened?” My mother asked.

I knew my mother was superstitious and I also knew Rekha was superstitious when it was anything to do with my mother. “A black cat just crossed us,” I mumbled.

I hadn`t even finished my sentence when my younger sister jumped up from her seat and tried to look out. “Where is the black cat? I can`t see anybody.” She asked.

I wondered why my sister was so excited about a black cat. I knew she had a thing for dogs – in the last three years she has brought home 18 puppies only to abandon them when they ceased to be puppies. Even as I wondered, she added: “Finally, I get to see a black cat in flesh and blood.”

The rest of us in the car cried out in unison: “Excuse me?!”

She looked at us in a confused state…threw up her arms and said: “OK fine, I accept I have special warmth for the black cats. Knowing that Jayalalitha lives in Chennai, I knew I would get to see one here….but that was a close miss.”

It took us a while to convince my sister that it was indeed a black cat – not the gun-totting type but one that walks on all fours. Once that done, the rest of us started focusing on what should be the next step. I asked my mother if we should proceed to the railway station.

At that moment only three of us were concerned about the black cat crossing the car…Rekha, my mother and myself. While I was neutral to any decision they might take, I knew exactly what Rekha and my mother would have been thinking.

Rekha: Gosh, don`t tell me you guys going to cancel the trip and staying back in Chennai for another week? Should I suggest that crossing of a cat from the left to right is not an issue?
My Mother: I can stay back, but Rekha could be a problem. I noticed the excitement in her eyes when I started packing. Can I say that crossing of a black cat from the left to right can be really, really bad?

I won`t tell you what happened after that…because that would be like washing dirty linen, bedsheets, trousers, towels, skirts, shirts, tops etc in public. But yes, we did make it to the railway station.

As we sat in the train waiting for it to leave so that we could say the final byes and go back home, my younger sister jumped up in her seat. “Look! A black cat!”

None of us was interested in a second black cat for the evening and didn`t turn. It was only after my sister said she could even see Tamil Nadu`s ex-Chief Minister Jayalalitha that we turned….there were six Black Cats guarding her as if she were a pail of milk.

Paying the price?

I didn`t realize but I have been quoted in this news item on Blog Bans, without my knowledge.

One of the many prizes that I have to recieve for being a celebrity blogger đŸ˜‰

Rekha and I are turning out to be a flashy couple, what with appearing in the newspapers at regular intervals. Who cares that the last time both of us made it to the papers was when our parents jointly issued an advertisement when we went missing during the honeymoon.

Rekha was quoted in Monday`s The Hindu`s Chennai Edition of Education Plus. To read her views on the “INTERESTING” topic called elearning Click Here.

Places you visit before and after marriage

I remember going places before marriage. Not that I am not going places after marriage – I mean, I bought an iron box, a three-legged stool, a Motorola Razr V3i, a Suzuki Swift and a single bed for myself only after marriage.

When I say I am not going places after marriage, I meant literally. Before marriage, Rekha and I would be raring to get out of the house on both week days and week ends. After marriage, we are raring to get in. Given below are some of the places we used to visit before marriage.

Temples – This was a tricky place. Since one could go to the temples only early in the morning the onus of picking her up from her hostel at 7 a.m. was mine. My first lie in our relationship – which ironically, brought us even closer – originated in a temple.

As soon as we came out of the Ashtalakshmi Temple in Besant Nagar, Chennai, Rekha asked me: “So what did you pray for?”

“Nothing.” I don`t know what was wrong with my answer for Rekha immediately got upset. She said, like a true life-partner to-be, I should have prayed for our marriage and kids and in-laws etc. When her lecture went on and on for what seemed like eternity…I delivered my lie: “Rekha, you know what…I did pray for all that. Elders say that telling our prayers to others renders it ineffective…now if we don`t get married…it is your fault, not mine.”

Like it happens after each of my strategically placed lies, Rekha didn`t open her mouth for a week.

Parks – Rekha has been spoiled by romantic movies of Jeetendra and Dev Anand and Rishi Kapoor where the hero-heroine roll around the park and dirty their clothes. Rekha and I did try that…but I ended up buying a washing machine. Once we even got censured by the watchman for sitting too close to each other. I told him we were married…but he wouldn`t believe us. When I persisted, he said: “Once married, couples don`t come here…and I have been here long enough to know that.” Unfortunately, I failed to heed to the God-sent warning.

Theme Parks – This was one of the places where I could play big brother. Rekha was never the adventurous types (why else would she marry me?) and thus hated theme parks. But I loved it…not for the rides…but because the time spent inside was the only time I had an upper hand over Rekha.

Theatre – We started going to theatres (not the movie theatres, but the drama types) after one of Rekha`s friends ridiculed her for not being the theatre-type. I am yet to figure out what a theatre-type is…but that hasn`t really mattered…because though I never enjoyed theatre…I loved the girls who come there wearing noodle-straps.

After our marriage the places we visit together have changed. We started off by visiting Rekha`s office – because I was now expected to drop her (sob! sob!). We frequent Rekha`s relative`s house in Chennai followed by the houses of my married friends. Weekly once we also make a visit to the vegetable market. Once a month…we attend a marriage in some city hall. But I never tell the bridegroom that he is not going places!

A quick question

If a wife puts poison in her husband’s pea soup, how will the husband die?

Update: The husband dies peas-fully!