Ouchmytoe.com

Times (New Roman) are not too good. A Century (Gothic) back cricket was played in the spirit of the game. The way they play it today is Comic (Sans).Gone is the rule Book(man old style). Enter emotional Impact. The Microsoft (Sans Serif) appeals have given way to persuasion of the umpires; at times threats.

Do onto others what you do not want them to do and then run.
– Jamshed V Rajan

Somebody once said, “It’s a good idea to keep on good terms with everybody, especially with your wife, your banker, your stomach, and your conscience.” If that somebody had worked in a corporate, he would have added ‘colleagues’ to that long list.

Yesterday when my boss was chiding me for not being creative at work, I shot back an excuse. “I am working hard, hence cannot afford to be creative.”

After the words had left my beer-bloated lips, I realised I was on target. I really was working hard (Now, that is a lie) and being creative was something I could not afford.

Many in my office work hard. Sometimes also burning the proverbial mid-night oil. My hats off to them.

But a person is either hard working or he is creative. He cannot be both. And that is final. Creativity is the power to connect the seemingly unconnected, and it can not be afforded by somebody who is hardpressed to finish his work and be home by 7 p.m.

No…no…Pls. I do not intend to point out that my office’s Creative team is not working hard. Neither am I hinting that they are not creative! Smart workers, perhaps. 😉

Has your father ever chased you around the house to apply that dirty lather (that`s what one thought till one started shaving) on your cheeks? If the answer is no, you would probably not understand the romance involved.

Now, am looking for a romantic who would not mind me chasing her around the house with a shaving brush in my hand. Of course, I could later graduate to the kids. Did I hear you say, like father like son? Thanks.

A series of blogs on my father, in the hope that he doesnot end up reading it. I am in luck: for my father the internet is as good as a fishing net …

I know it is hard to believe, but my father once owned a bank. Yes, a bank.

Name: Royal Ramawamy`s Bank
Account Holders: Three (My two sisters & I)
Max withdrawal possible in a day: Rupees Two
Headquarters: Our House (Incidentally named ‘Gun House`)
Timings: 24X7 Operations

My father was trying to inculcate in us the habit of saving money. He gave the three of us account books made of pages torn from our own school notebooks. He also ensured we had unique account numbers. Mine was JVR-1.

The three of us fell for the trick and spent close to four years of our life in penury. Eventually, better sense prevailed and we realized our father was not the ideal banking guy.

The money our relatives gave us when they visited and the money my father himself gifted us for we being nice made it to the bank the very same day. Later while doing Economics, I would understand the tactic as ‘plough-back policy` – give the money but ensure it comes back to you.

Over a period of time we amassed a fortune. But the suckers that we were, we did not realize the futility till one day my father announced our account books had expired. He said it was the bank clerk`s (…and that was my mother) fault for she had forgotten to inform the account holders that if one did not deposit money for over a week, the account would expire. He knew we would not revolt against our mother.

We never got back the money we saved, but we sure got new clothes. It was neither Diwali nor our Birthdays, so I guess my father did not usurp our money.

Besides, I am yet to tell my father that one reason why my account had eight hundred more than my sisters` was because I was doing my own `plough back` – hiking the fee structure in my school and depositing it in the bank. Now, who fooled whom?

Nobody has ever said good things about a smoker. Wonder why.

If I exchanged places with you, I am sure you would also look up to smokers. I know it is difficult to be in my shoes, especially since they are one size less and smell a lot, but still it is worth a try for all the good it would bring to your life.

Smoking gives me an excuse to not brush daily. What a waste of time, money and water. If God had wanted me to brush, I would have had bristle-like hair on my index finger. But I do not.

My Doc tells me I might have holes in my lungs. Amusing for somebody as knowledgeable as my Doc to say that and get upset over. After all, it is these holes that will help me by-pass blood and distribute Oxygen through out my body. They are more helpful as my Red Blood Corpuscles (RBCs) are anyways lethargic.

In fact, smoking helps me keep a tab on my fitness levels. I know when I am straining myself for I start panting. Pity all those who never know how many stairs they can climb. I can manage two flights.

The habit saves me money in ways more than one. When my colleagues are rushing to the food court for lunch, I just need a glass of water. Guess, it is lack of appetite, but I am not complaining if I can save Rs 30.

While on smoking, I have to tell you about this movie in which Anthony Hopkins is a cop who has decided to shoot a cowboy, played by Kevin Costner. The cop grants the cowboy his last wish…to which the latter says he wants to have his last smoke. At the mere mention of a smoke, the visibly upset cop ends up saying, “You know, smoking could kill you?”

OK…ok…I wrote the script. The climax needed a smoking gun…

At 29, the least that is expected of me is agreeing to marriage. But see what happens after I agree…