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The year was 2003 A.D. The characters were the Hero (let us call him Rahul, since all heros have that name), the Heroine (let us call her Priya, since all heroines ..whatever blah) and the Villain (let us call him…well…Jammy).
Those were the innocent days. Days when you didn`t talk dirty to ladies unless it was on Yahoo chat and the asl was 23, F, US. The talk was dirtier if it was a guy pretending to be sex-starved lady from North Americas.
While we are at it, I might as well tell you why the United States of America isn`t named United Countries & Kingdom….because then the asl of an average lady would be 23, F, UCK. (Didn`t get it? Read again).
Our story begins when I used to chat with no less than eight women at the same time, for hours on end to eventually find that five of them were men desperate for any kind of action. Believe me, it is true. I have been on both sides.
During one such chat session, suddenly the whole room brightened up. A pretty girl – maybe 23-24 years old had walked into the room wearing a white salwar.
I wasn`t the only star-stuck desperate man in the room. I looked at my friend nearby, who was known as the guy who went online with 19 women at the same time, and asked: “Who is she?”
“Don`t even bother. She has been taken.” He dived deep into the Samsung monitor again.
“Do you always give the bad news first?” I insisted.
“Her name is Priya. Is a highly educated girl and won`t fall for you.” He went back to the key-board banging that he was known for.
Back then ‘highly educated` meant the person was a Management Trainee. That was quite a dampener…for anybody who wasn`t a MT was a class D employee.
“She is really pretty.” I kept staring at her.
“Tell that to her boyfriend. He will be happy to know.”
Back then, I did think that if you told a man that his girl was pretty the man was bound to be happy. Apparently, that isn`t true always. It works when she is your girl friend…but doesn`t when she becomes you wife.
I learnt it on the day of our marriage when one of Rekha`s college mates walked up to the dais, handed his gift to my newly, and lawfully wedded wife Rekha, and turned towards me and said: “Your wife is pretty.”
I pulled the guy to a corner, and whispered in his ears: “You don`t need to tell me. Why do you think I married her?” Even as he sulked and walked away…I couldn`t help shouting, “By the way, GKB Opticals in Adyar is good.”
I notice that I have been drifting quite a bit. Looks like this post is going to be a two-part series.
Within a few minutes I had decided to hunt down Priya`s boy friend and see if he really cared about her. What if he was just fooling around and would end up hurting her? I wouldn`t have liked that and Rajans don`t let such things happen even if it meant laying down one`s life.
Needless to say, her boy friend was a well educated guy (an MT!) and his name was Rahul. I decided to be mean to him…how could he deprive me of my life`s happiness?
I got my chance within two days when I met him near the water cooler. He smiled at me. I didn`t. First mean act.
Next, I saw him in the food line at the cafeteria, standing just behind me. I took my own time helping myself with the palak paneer (though I don`t like it and threw it later) and delayed his lunch by three minutes. Second mean act.
Like men, we met at the smoking joint a week later. He had a cigarette, but didn`t have a light. When he asked me if I had a light…I refused in spite of having a box of matches inside my trouser pocket. Third mean act.
I had decided to make Rahul`s life hell by being mean to him forever but couldn`t. After 36 acts of meanness I realized I had to start talking to him.
That`s when I….
(The abrupt stop in this post has been inspired by the television serials. Hope it helps in keeping the interest levels high)
Part two to be published shortly
Definition of Lateral Thinking – Lateral thinking is a term coined by Edward de Bono, a Maltese psychologist, physician and writer. It first appeared in the title of his book The Use of Lateral Thinking, published in 1967. De Bono defines lateral thinking as methods of thinking concerned with changing concepts and perception. Lateral thinking is about reasoning that is not immediately obvious and about ideas that may not be obtainable by using only traditional step-by-step logic. Source: Wikipedia
Lateral Thinking Puzzle for the Week
An old man read a report in the newspaper about a wealthy woman who had died of old age. “She was murdered!” he thundered. Then carried on reading the rest of the newspaper How did he know that it was a murder and why did he do nothing about it?
While you are at it, why not read about the 10 Strangest Unsolved Murders in History
Update on the Lateral Thinking Puzzle
The Answer I was looking for
The old man was priest. He was sitting alone while reading the newspaper (some lady once said, before marriage my husband promised to lay down his life for me but after marriage he doesn’t even lay down his newspaper!). Only the previous day a man had confessed to him that he had murdered his aunt for money. The priest realized that the woman mentioned in the newspaper was the murder victim. The ‘seal of confessional’ (priests aren’t allowed to reveal what is said during a confession) meant that he couldn’t report the murder to the police.
Other Good Answers That Came Up
Answer 1: The old man reading the paper had murdered her (probably for her money) and thats how he knew it was a murder! And that is also why he din’t do anything about it.
By Ambiga
Answer 2: The old man reading the newspaper might have given a “supari” to a professional killer, who had succeeded in making it look like a natual death.
By Wrong One
Answer 3: The old man must have been the person who had done post mortem on this wealthy woman. But before the post mortem report was given out the press assumed and declared that she had died of old age. He might have discovered during the postmortem analysis that she was murdered and didn’t die of natural causes. However, he did nothing about it because the investigation (or the post mortem analysis) was going on and he was looking for some conclusive evidence to be given to the police as solid proof.
Answer 4: The old man was reading one headline after another to his short sighted and hard of hearing wife. “She was murdered” was probably another headline he read out aloud.
I now have very closely cropped hair. Only because my barber didn`t having Rs 10 to give back.
He asked me for Rs 40, for a close enough cut. I handed him a fifty rupees note and waited for him to give back the change. The deft barber – I know for only a few minutes back he had tried to sell medicinal oil from Kerala which would make my hair grow like Jack`s magical beans – looked in his cash box for long before saying he didn`t have Rs 10 to give me. He meant business.
“Now, what?” I asked.
“I can give you a shave.” The barber replied. He had a glint in his eyes, which roughly translated meant “MONEY”.
“No…I don`t want a shave. I had one only this morning. Can you give me a massage?”
“Massage for ten bucks? I didn`t accidentally cut the blood supply to your brains or did I?”
We continued our argument before the barber came up with a classic offer. He said he could compensate by cutting my hair ‘shortest` so that I wouldn`t have to spend money on my haircut for another two months. I agreed because initially I had only requested for ‘shorter`. Now we were going for ‘shortest`.
Before you agree to such a deal with your barber, let me warn you it is a dangerous thing to do. People around you look at you as if you were an anti-social element. The movie directors of the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s and the 90s…should be blamed for this. In all movies their villains had to be abnormal and what inexpensive way to stand out than by tonsuring the villain`s head? There was no risk either – the hair would grow back again.
Now, you know why there is such a huge line of devotees in front of Tirupathi`s tonsuring center. I am yet to meet a person who stood in front of Tirupathi (or any other temple) and said: “Wow…am so happy…I am going to sacrifice my right arm today. It was something my mother promised when I was sick and everybody thought I was going to die but I lived on.”
At this juncture, let me state that I believe in God and will soon be having a tonsuring ceremony for my daughter (and might have one for myself too, for I have heard it works out cheaper!).
Right now I am in a train – on my way back from Kerala and thanks to this stereotyping of the villains (remember the bad man ‘Shetty`…who always died in the climax because the hero pulled out a live wire and placed it on his bald/tonsured head)…two young girls (and their pretty mother) have been regarding me with suspicion.
When the Traveling Ticket Examiner came, I heard the mother whisper to the TTE: “Can you move that dangerous looking man to another compartment please? My daughters are scared.”
I dug deeper into my book but continued to eavesdrop. The TTE said: “What? Him? He seems to be only 4 feet tall and you are scared of him?”
“Yeah. I won`t be able to close my eyes if this man (at this time she was pointing at me) is sitting so close to my daughters.”
The TTE seemed to be a determined person. He said: “Do you realize that your younger daughter – the one you say is eight years old – is taller than him?”
I swallowed the insult with a dose of PG Wodehouse (that`s what I was reading) and continued to listen. Luckily there was no more talk of my height. After the TTE left, I smiled at the lady and she smiled back. Looked like the smile I would give a class X bully. I didn`t pursue the case. No man worth his salt can ever get angry on a pretty lady. Even if she is a mother of two.
Nothing much happened thereafter…but I still think the movie directors should try out different types of villains – like the one-handed one, the one-legged one…and the one with no large intestines.
Till then, I pity all the Peters of the World. Wasn`t that the name of all the villains` right hand men? Remember: “Peter, mujhe who chahiye… zinda ya murda.”
*I tried to look really scary while the photographs were snapped. You have to tell me if I succeeded.
# Enrolling for driving lessons can be a crime
# My trip to Hyderabad
# Home alone for Jammy
# My wife wins. Again
# I love you, my dear wife
A man waved a cloth and another man died. Why?
Update:
Answer 1: The man waving the cloth was announcing the start of a duel. As soon as the cloth was waved, the fastest of them shot the other man down.
Answers which came out of all the comments the readers left:
Answer 2: The man waving the cloth was a station master and when he waved the cloth (a flag, if you insist on the right term) the train started and a man standing on the tracks died a gruesome death.
Answer 3: A man waving a piece of cloth was the signal for a firing squad to shoot down the man standing in front of them.
Answer 4: Here is the bullshit-est of all the answers. A man standing behind a matador in a bull ring waves a cloth and enrages the bull. The angry bull attacks the matador when he is not looking and kills him.
The word has spread and all the nurses have ganged up against me in order to save Rekha her husband. This is the problem with today`s World – news travels fast. Esp, news of somebody being a flirt.
My sense of humor didn`t help me either when I met my match in ‘Sister` Rosa Kutty (not the twin sister of Indian middle distance runner of the 90s).
“Sister, can you tell me how you differentiate between a boy and a girl when they are born?” I asked in an attempt to get closer to her.
She replied as if she had practiced the reply a 100 times before: “That`s simple. We just wrap the baby in a soft, white, cotton cloth and if he looks like an angel in it…it is a boy and if she looks like an angel in it, it is a girl.”
Moral of the Story: Never trust your sense of humor to take you anywhere.
Thanks to the baby daughter…we Rajans have achieved many firsts –
Post Script: Rekha is getting discharged from the post-operative ward tomorrow. If anybody wants to wish her, you can reach her at 09884391220 after 1 p.m. IST. I am sure she would love to hear from you. I am not giving my mobile number because I didn`t do much except for standing on a stool and clapping as the baby emerged out of the operation theatre.
Today – 29th March 2007 – at 12 noon my wife gave birth to a baby girl. Now I know why babies are considered a bundle of joy – they come wrapped as a bundle in a white, soft, cotton wrap-around (doesn`t look as good on the baby girl as it does on other 18 year olds) for which I was asked to pay later – Rs 40.
It wasn`t a normal delivery. She was born via a C-section operation, where ‘C` stands for Caesarean. Legend has it that Caesar`s mother delivered him thus but there are doubts over the same. Read more about Caesarean deliveries.
I was just thinking about Caesarean deliveries – kind of different. If one were to look for an example in day to day living…it is like choosing to walk out of the window when the door is still available. Simple.
This incident has made me realize that childbirth is the only time one visits the hospital in a happy frame of mind. Doctors are an exclusion to this rule – why wouldn`t one be happy making money?
Rekha is still under observation. I am told that`s routine after a C-section. I am not complaining for it gives me ample time to mingle with the pretty nurses. Pity, one is forced to addressed them as “Sister”. I did try a Johnny Bravo line on one of the nurses. I walked up to her and said: “You smell kind of pretty. Want to smell me?”
She gave me a stare. Then smiled at me before saying: “Sure. First, let me clean the gooey mess you daughter has delivered on our operation table.”
Just when I was making some headway, the gynecologist walked into the scene. I have a feeling the nurses are not allowed to flirt with the patrons, for the nurse ignored me thereafter.
I did look thro` the glass window of the Isolation Ward (they could have chosen a better name – it is as if Rekha had been abducted by the aliens) and whispered “I love you,” to Rekha. She in turn said something which I couldn`t hear. When I called my hands and legs to the rescue and conveyed to her that I didn`t understand, she asked the nurse to write something in a paper and hand it over to me. It was the nurse I had flirted with, so I gave my million dollar smile as I took the piece of paper from her hand.
The piece of paper said: “Now you have got what you have always wanted – a second woman in your life. You better behave.”
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Other Related Must Reads
Announcing – Pregnancy Diary
The initial months of pregnancy
The baby-mother bonding
Come to me baby!
Communicating a baby`s birth to the World
I don`t know how my family communicated my birth to the rest of the world. Some of my guesses are:
Now-a-days times have changed. Relatives no longer go around town pissing on parapet walls, tree trunks, lamp posts, post boxes, and picket fences just because a baby was born in the family.
With little resources in hand, I have decided to use my mobile to communicate to the world as soon as our kid is born. In a way, it is revenge. In the eight years I have had a mobile phone, I received this dreaded message – ‘At ** p.m. today, I became a father. Both the baby and the mother are fine` – umpteen number of times. How does one go about replying to such messages? Here are some of my responses over the years –
One thing that has bothered me for long is…why don`t the mothers send these messages? I am yet to receive a message reading: “At ** a.m. today, I became a mother. Both the baby and the father are fine.”
Maybe the women in my world are lazy. Or maybe, a child birth for them is just another daily chore. Or maybe, they reach out to their husbands lying next to them in a stretcher (after witnessing all the action in the labor room) and ask them to send out the SMS.
I will be in Kerala when my child is born, and sending messages to the 300 odd contacts in my phone book would cost me at least Rs 1000 (while roaming, Hutch charges Rs 3+ per message). Quite a costly affair, considering I didn`t accept a penny in dowry. Primarily, coz penny isn`t accepted in India.
With little money I plan to drop the inform-by-an-SMS plan and look for a simple (by which I mean a cheap) mode of communication.
Maybe, I can place a star on top of my house – like how Jesus` parents did. The problem is, my house is not a manger but an apartment (from outside, that is). Even if I decide to have the star, I need to get the permission of my flat association president and I am sure he wouldn`t allow me because I sent him this message when he announced the birth of his daughter: “Wow…I never knew your wife`s tummy actually had a baby. I thought it was more a case of overeating.”
The other option I have is to immediately boot my laptop, connect to the internet and dispatch a mail to all contacts. I have done my homework in this regard – I already have the mail ready. Here is how it goes:
Hi all,
With great difficulty, Rekha and I became parents today. It has been quite a journey – especially from Chennai to Kannur…in Mangalore Mail.
I am not sure of the time the child was born, because I was sedated and was in a stretcher alongside Rekha, when the baby saw the light of day. (Note to myself: Find out the time of birth and head for the nearest astrologer).
The child is doing fine. Is all of 3.2 Kgs and like his father is also a bundle of joy. Don`t think he will grow up to be a stand up comedian because he can`t stand up, yet. He is always in a state of meditation – wonder if he is the next Buddha. This thought scares me because like Buddha he isn`t wearing any clothes either.
Cheers
Jammy (the husband) & Rekha (the wife)
If you forward this mail to eight people within the next eight minutes, you will get a baby in the next eight months. Unmarried people please use your discretion.
Other Must Reads
# Kissing – how it all began
# Getting to know sex
# Toilets – how lucky we are to have them
# The initial months of pregnancy