Cycle Bell Bill

Karrupiah and Elangovan were two illiterate farmers in a small Tamil Nadu village. One day, after a long day of work Karrupiah was bicycling to the local saraya kadai (Village bar).  Elangovan was returning on his bicycle from the shop. They crashed into each other. A scuffle broke out and the local constable intervened. The constable, who bore a grudge against the two for not lowering their lungis when he rode his moped in the village, booked cases against the two. Lack of street lights, amavasya and the absence of a cycle bell on Elangovans bicycle were noted as factors in the FIR. The case went to court.

The judge after hearing the case ruled in Karrupiah’s favor and ordered that the government make it mandatory for all bicycles to have a cycle bell. This judicial order was reported widely in the media. A group of lawyers under the CCACB (Concerned Citizens Against Cycle Bells) filed a Public Interest Litigation (PIL) challenging the ruling. After years of affidavits, counter affidavits, black gowned lawyers shouting “Objection your Honor” and emotionless dawaalis loosing their voices, the judge ordered the government to resolve the issue.

The government immediately constituted an advisory panel under the chairmanship of a retired IAS officer of the Transportation Ministry and a large posse of public servants. Apart from sumptuous lunches and pakoda-samosa high teas, the panel went on a fact finding mission to Europe and America to study their Bicycle bells and bicycle accident data. The committee managed to keep extending dead-lines until the IAS officer ran out of desk calendars to look for future dates. So he hastily googled the information and sent his report endorsing the stand that cycle bells be made compulsory.

The government drafted a bill to be tabled in the parliament. The bill languished for a few years since every time it came up for discussion the parliament would be adjourned sine die for members to attend khaini chewing contests in their constituencies or that members would stage a walkout protesting the amount of noise in the house when they tried to get some sleep.

The bill was finally brought for discussions in the midst of flying microphones and office furniture. The left wingers opposed it saying that in encroached on personal freedom and the right wingers protested that the sound “ding-dong” were foreign swear words disguised as auditory notes. The communists said that the proletariat must not be unduly subjugated and hence all vehicles, including cars and buses must also be fitted with cycle bells.

Widespread protests hit the nation. People rioted on streets burning Bell bottom pants and effigies of Graham Bell. The Bell Curve and dumbbells were boycotted. The opposition parties brought in a no-confidence motion against the government. After major horse trading, public vote auction and the party whips flogging their members mercilessly to ensure that party lines were not breached, the members voted and the government fell.

The opposition now laid claim to the throne government. The president, who was lulled out of his gardening activities, called on the opposition to form the government and to prove their majority on the floor. A new session of trading began anew. Bookmakers released odds on the results and the parliament members made a small fortune. The vote failed. The president who was once again trudged out of his favorite armchair was forced to dissolve the parliament and call for fresh elections.

The election commission has issued dates for general elections. The cycle bell bill is still in the pile. Since it is to come after the discussion on the eligibility of criminally convicted MP’s to stand for election, it sure never to see the light of day.

Two governments have fallen; a general election in scheduled and the public is restless; but Elangovan and Karuppiah have patched things up. Elangovan had to borrow money from the village lender to buy a cycle bell as ordered by the judge. He then had to sell the cycle because he couldn’t afford the interest on the bell. Karuppiah lost all his money on successive failed harvests. Now they both walk to the saraaya kadai together and share the drinks over a single plate of oorkaai.

Letters of Freedom

Most often than not, the first comprehensible words an Indian going school kid learns is “As I was suffering from…..”. He or she knows that this is the key to the door beyond which lies freedom. I am sure some of you dour-pusses might be offended by the use of the word freedom to describe a “rascally” act of bunking school to dabble in “unnecessary activities”. But let me remind you that the catch word of the modern age is “Freedom”.

When wars have been fought and lives have been lost defending the concept of a freedom, I think there is no harm is killing off a distant relative, on paper that is, to taste the same brand of freedom. And more often than not, the particular relative is already is a different place; a better place or not is totally subjective.

One of the many advantages of a socially caring society is that familial bonds provides an ample list of candidates for a young school kid to pronounce dead for the next planned escapade. From grandfathers, grandmothers, cousins, uncles and aunts, the list is pretty exhaustive. An alert teacher who might keep track of a particular students list of dead relatives might be pleasantly surprised to find that the kid might have had 8 or more grandfathers that have passes away.

Let us for a second evesdrop on a conversation between PK and his close friend Cheenu.

Cheenu: Dei…Enge da…..Why did u not come to school today.
PK: I did not study for the science test da, and also there was the new james bond movie. So I thought I’ll hit two maanga with one stone.
Cheenu: Nice da, Science exam was major rod. Bastard kumar did not show any answers also da. Totalla oothikichu.

PK: Sorry to hear that ra. Anyways I need to write a leave letter da, help me no. I am thinking of saying I had stomach ache.
Cheenu: Not good ra. That is only like half day excuse man….

PK: What about fever?
Cheenu: That is a two day excuse da, if you come back in one day it might be suspicious. Can’t you take another day off?
PK: No da…Lab tomorrow. Laksmi will be there na…..(both laugh……)
Cheenu: lucky bastradra you are

PK: Ok…what about whooping cough or measles or something big
Cheenu: They will ask of medical certificate and then you will have aapu. Forget diseases, think about relatives. What if you say your grandfather died?
PK: Ille da. Already said that 3 times.

Cheenu: What about grandmother then?
PK: I used her when went to play criket at the beach no. And that was only last week. Ms Madhavi will remember.

PK: Ok da….Tell an athay no?
Cheenu: Good idea da, I don’t have any athay at all!

PK: Not a problem da, remember to sign your dads name in the leave letter.
Cheenu: Not a problem at all ra. I am getting enough practice signing my test papers.
PK: You have to sign my scince paper too when it comes. Ille na my dad will give me kottus

Cheenu: Sure ra.

As you can see that there are two broad categories of leave letters. One is infectious diseases to self, and the other one is the family death tree.

Every MBA finance graduate who has cursorily glanced through his Finance 101 text book knows that the payout of any investment is propotional to the risk involved. The same applies to writing a leave letter. The fall out, if caught, is ugly. You have the  public reprimand received at the school with the blessings of a wooden ruler and the dreaded punishments at home to boot. This is warning enough for the fake leave letter to used under extreme caution.

Inpite of the perils and the danger of getting caught, young minds still walk the thin line because what lies on the other side is priceless….. Its FREEDOM.

Intha Vaay Irrukke

The tongue has two primary functions. One of taste and the other of speech. I am fine with my tongue’s handling in the taste department but when it comes to speech, it has failed me miserably. Time and Time again I must add. Though it makes no mistakes in pronunciation or in its grammar, it always says something wrong at the wrong time.
Like for instance yesterday at work. I went to see my manager. The office are located at a separate end of the shop floor. It has a central walkway/corridor and the managers have their office on either side. A small kitchen with a refrigerator, a microwave and other kitchen appliances is located at the end of the passage way. The managers use the kitchen to heat their food.
So yesterday, as I walked down the passageway I smelt an unbearable stench that permeated the air. It smelt like karavadu that had been sprayed over with hobo perfume. As my stomach buckled under the olfactory overload, I passed my boss’s office. So at his door I proclaimed my exasperation aloud. “God. It stinks here”. He looked up and said “Must be my lunch”. My face went red as a beetroot and hastily tried to appologize for my loose toungue.
Aah as vivek says…”indha Vaay irukke”…..

It’s the same hunt

I am looking to change my status. No, not my H1B status but my marital status. It’s turned out to be as hard as getting a leopard to wear a party hat. The procedure seems simple enough; At least for arranged marriages. Profiles are exchanged, guy meets girls, laddus, plantains and paan leaves are exchanged, pot bellied relatives and betel nut chewing aunties figure out how the family trees/creepers are interlinked and then the reception menu is finalised before the marriage date is fixed. Simple as an idli, I’d say. But after dipping my legs into this murky waters I have changed my view of such matters.
After a few such prospective meetings, some free bajjis and snacks, and miles of travelling I am beginning to see a correlation between finding a bride and finding a job. Here is the step by step analysis and parallels between the two.

Job Hunt 1:You see an ad for a job opening. The requirements and skill set needed don’t match with yours. But like a true blooded tamilian you do not worry about trivialities and send in an application.
Bride Hunt 1: You are told (by parents/relative) about a prospective bride. You are told about her qualifications, work, location etc and are asked to send a bio-data.
Job Hunt 2:You fill out the online form pasting your resume and a cover letter stating that you are willing to relocate to any territorial part of the US including North Dakota and that this job was the one that you were born for. You “lighta modify” your resume to ensure that you are the perfect match for it.
Bride Hunt 2:You send your CV and two photographs (avoiding the bald patch on the top) with the cheesiest smile that says, I-am-cool-yet-traditional…(and a please marry me look). One photograph in the traditional attire that shouts “I-am-a-desi culture-hugging-pazham”and another with GAP garb that subtitles to “american peteradifying quasipartying hip guy”

Job Hunt 3:Once the resume is scanned and picked up for the key words that you have put in, thanks to google, the HR gives you a call.
Bride Hunt 3: After the girl approves you, for whatever reason (hey..is there any rational to a girls mind ?), the parents call you to talk to you.

Job Hunt 4: The HR then sends your resume to the supervisor who decides to call you for a phone interview.
Bride Hunt 4: The parents then set up a phone call with the next pain in the family (son in law, bride’s brother/uncle etc).

Job Hunt 5:Once the supervisor OK’s you , an on site interview is fixed.
Bride Hunt 5: On approval from the Number 2 in the family,  the parents call you back and ask for a probable date that you can come down.

Job Hunt 6:You go power dressed in a formal suit accessorised with a “please-hire-me” tie.
Bride Hunt 6:You go dressed up semi-causal to indicate ” I am family oriented, career focused, caring, loving, kind, …..and all the long laundry list of good virtues”

Job Hunt 7: You have a panel interview with the managers and and a one-on-one interview with your department manager. The other supervisors also get a chance to prod you to see if you are the right candidate.
Bride Hunt 7:After you pass the interview with the grandparents, the aunts, uncles and the domestic cat that is sprawled on the floor, you meet with the girl who politely asks you about your extra curricular activities. She then proceeds to tell you that watching TV and eating food are not activities in her dictionary.

Job Hunt 8:You paint a glorious self-aggrandising image of your exemplay project management skills and highlight the fact that your weakness is your hard work and dedication.
Bride Hunt 8:You try and impress the girl with your weaker-than-water jokes to which the girl just rolls her eyes.  You tell her about how cool you are with your blogging and twittering etc, and she curtly tells you that writing about food and dissing people behind a virtual burqa is not cool.

Job Hunt 9: At the conclusion of the interview the manager tells you, “we will let you know “
Bride Hunt 9:Once you have polished off the paniharams, the bride’s dad like a game show host who prolongs the suspense tells you “We will let you know soon”

Job Hunt 10: You come home and the wait begins
Bride Hunt 10: You come home and the wait begins

Job Hunt 11: A few days later the email comes home. “Thank you for your interest in the position. But we regret to inform you that we have found a suitable candidate to fill the position.”
Bride Hunt 11: The dad calls saying “Sorry, but we don’t think that this match will work out. (a.k.a you are a loser and we can do better than you)

I might be all twitter but I am no quitter. So with renewed energy I am looking for that change of status. Till then I am trying to pick up some extra curricular activites and some taste in music!. Suggestions???

A Bondless Bond movie

The new bond movie is exactly like a big starred Tamil movie that did not live up to the hero worshipping standards of the receiving public. Even though QoS has a superstar spy as its primary character, it like a Rajni movie without the punch dialogues or the tamil-makkallaku-talai song or the over dramatic scenes that are the essence of his movies. The new bond movie is like eating brunch. Yes, it’s filling and tasty but it qualifies neither to be lunch nor breakfast. The movie with explosive action and fast paced narration fails to bring itself out as a bond movie. Here are my reasons why

1. Lack of gadgets: James bond is synonomous with hi-tech gadgets and mind-boggling innovations. The pen that shoots, the watch with a laser cutter etc. The only mildly “wow” innovation was the touch control desk at the head-quarters. That too was too hi-tech to be believable. Show me one OS that is that responsive!. The other innovation, though commonplace now, was the cell phone camera which Bond uses to takes pictures and sends via MMS to HQ. The camera sucks soo bad that the images are all grainy and out of focus!.

2. No punch dialogues: Never does Bond ever relate the eponymous “Yen peru Bond, James Bond”, albeit in the english language.

3. Recovering Alcoholic Bond: Some bondomaniac, who painstakingly tallied every single drink that Bond has had in all his books computed the average drinks per page to be at 1 drink for every 15 pages.  So it is safe to say that Bond is an alcoholic. It is seems that in Q o S Bond is a member of Alcoholics Anonymous. It is particularly evident with his weak response to the martini recipe.

4. Fashion: Although my fashion vision is not exactly 20/20, I could without doubt say that Bond was the worst dressed ever in his career. From the movie, I remember him only once in his traditional Tux.

5. Lack of Skin: Ah, here is the clincher. Apart from ample doses of suspense, car chases and an elaborate yet vain scheme of the villain, the bond movies have always had an eye for the “sizzle”. The movie had one actress who looked like she was a shriveled up raisin. It seemed that her part of a revenge-thirsty-soul out to avenge the wrongful death of her family could have been lifted off “Khoon Bhari Maang” or other such movies. With the amount of drama written into her part, she might gave been a character in the veerani pariwaar than in a bond movie!. The actress was well tanned and browned enough to pass for a Colombian or a desi, but the shame is that the director totally avoided showing how she had got the tan.!! This is sure to disappoint many an avid desi “scholars” who have always tried to glean more information on such topics.

All in all the movie is not exactly a typical bond movie but it is a typical action movie. The horror of it is that they could have replaced Daniel Craig with Vin Diesel or Van-Damm and there wouldn’t be any difference!.

Deep fried Math

The extant that mathematics plays in the life of an Indian is best expressed by looking at the simplest of examples…yes….the vadaa: or deep fried lentil doughnuts as they are called. The inventor of the vadaa, which I am sure was a tamilian of the early ages, who being a culinary artist was also a mathematician exemplar. The question I am sure you are asking is, why so?. Let me explain. Lets have a look at the vadaa geometry.

vadaa

 

Torus (*www.math.hmc.edu)

 
In creating the doughnut shape the vadaa maker created the topographic shape of a torus. The torus, in the mathematical world is now been called a compact 2D manifold which has no boundary and is not simply connected. The brilliance of the chef is best seen by what he did next. He punched a hole in the center. It was not a simple punch, it was one that was packed with mathematical insight and acumen. The dough from the hole would form a 3D sphere. Its is the same sphere that was listed as one of the 7 millennium problems and was offered a 1 million dollar prize to solve the Poincare conjecture. The mathematical wonders of the vadaa don’t end there. The proof of the Poincare conjecture is based on a theory called the Ricci’s flow. This theory mathematically describes the flow of heat over a given geometry. This undoubtedly was due to the fact that the vadaa is to be deep fried. The geometry would help homogenize the heat flow over the vadaa thereby achieving the perfect crispiness and taste!

So in essence the creator of the vadaa was using high level differential geometry to create an edible mathematical masterpiece. So next time you bite into a vadaa or dunk it in sambhar, it doesn’t matter if you don’t remember how many you have had, but remember that what you are eating is a mathematical marvel!

The 7 habits of highly effective Indians

Success, they say is relative. There are successes which end with world wide fame and recognition. There are plenty of Indians who have bettered mankind and have thus achieved immortal fame. Though India lacks in its PCS factor (that is Per Capita Success factor) for this kind of success, we make it up in other forms. Success can also be leading a peaceful life with the domestic bliss of a wife and kids, and a lazy evening spent over chaai and butteraan. There are billions of Indians who are successful at that. Given that the modern day nihilistic society in the industrialized world searches for that very bliss, I thought it would be best to share the secrets of Indian successes with the world. I have labeled it “The seven habits of highly effective Indians”. Here they are:

1) Procrastinate: This is best described by the couplet that goes “Aaj kare so kal kar, kal kare so parson; Itni bhi kya jaldi hai pyare, jab jeena hai barson”, which loosely translates to mean “Postpone today’s task to tomorrow and postpone tomorrows work to the day after. What’s the hurry when we have years ahead to live”. As Indians, we do not have to worry about learning this particular habit. It is a part and parcel of our DNA. It runs so deep in our blood that even after we are cut, the blood takes a while to come out. Hence the term “Bloody indian”. This is THE MOST important quality one must learn in order to be a successful Indian.
2) Aimlessness: Had it not been for aimless wandering, places and things would not have been discovered.  A cursory glance at a street corner in India will show you young kids going “kutti severru” around their houses, middle ages mustachios debating the “kavarchi nadigai” news at the tea kadais and at the same time the aged while their time whining about the present state of life with interspersed remarks of antha kaalathule. One must also practice this rigorously and make sure that it permeates into ones very essence.
3) Rainy day planning: As the sub-heading reads, rainy day planning does not involve having to plan for bringing the clothesline indoors or remembering to fold up your trouser hems as you wade through the rain water. Rather, it is to be a pack rat and hoard up every single thing you come across because “you never know when you will need it”. Be it locks that you do not have the key for or the beyond repair radio on which your kollu thaatha heard the swearing-in ceremony of lal bahadur shastri. One must therefore rat hole everything that one finds for a day that it might be needed.

4) Think Loss/Loss: The Indian pysche is beyond comprehension by even the finest of minds. The reason we do not have any alien abductions of Indians is the fact that the aliens are scared that we might in turn brainwash them instead. As the say, if you cannot stream ahead in a running race, then you got to trip the other runners! One must be prepared to take the high road and also drag along any road blocks that come up. Then and only then will you be able to reach your destination.
5) Be the loudest: In a land were one has to converse over the din of a jam-packed commute its only natural that our voice decibels have climbed to higher octaves. Ask any of abundant politicians that we produce, the key to success is to be louder than the loudest competitor to make your voice heard!. The best lawyer in town is not the one with the most legal knowledge but the one who can out-shout the other prosecutor with “Objection your honor”. To this effect one must practice twice every day, one hour in the morning and one hour in the evening, in order to make your voice louder.
6) Teamwork: This one is simple. Get into the team based on your performance and then become a permanent fixture, like a birthmark. Avoid all attempts to take you out. If the heat to kick you out becomes unbearable, then gloat on your past achievement irrespective of your arid contributions in the recent past. Referring back to our politicians and their tactics, blame someone else for any failures.
7) Dull the aruvaal: Since all work and no play makes jack a dull boy and jill a dull girl. In spite of Habit 1 (i.e. procrastination), one needs to ease off the work schedule calendar. The sharp dagger of a lifestyle which involves mooching off and delegating can cause both senses and sensibilities to be on ultra-high alert. Hence from time to time it needs to be dulled with a healthy dose of sick and casual leaves.

I am sure that these habits and an unhealthy exposure to a tanning lamp might qualify you to be a face in the crowd of one the most successful people on earth….the Indians…(not the native American variety).

 

 

 

 

 

Schpelling B

The spelling bee is a contest that is held annually for kids to show off their geekiness and their skills of being a mug pot. I know the saying that there is no such thing as useless knowledge, but what is the point of knowing obscure words and their origins? Its usability in modern day life is like that of snail mail. Yes it exists, but who uses it!?.
Given the direction the modern day generation is trending, in terms of spelling. grammar and pronunciation, I was thinking how it would the actual spelling bee competition should be held. Here is my version.

The final round. Only one kid is left.
(Kid walks up nervously to the microphone)
Judge: Contestant # 416. If you get this correct you will be the champion. Your word is “companion”

Kid: Companion…..companion. Can I have the origin please ?
Judge: Originally from Latin from companio

Kid: Companion….companyon..Could I have its meaning please
Judge: Closely connected, confidant.

(Nervously trying to say the words over and over again)
Kid: Compagnion….companeon…….Could you use it in a sentence.
Judge: Salt and his companion pepper spiced up the egg.

Kid…Cumpanions….Companean…
(Slowly muttering it over and over)

Kid: Compaion….
Kid: B F F 

Judge…That is correct… Companion is spelt BFF. (Best friends forever)!!

Given the way modern spelling is evolving the day is not too far when the best english and grammar teachers would be southern rednecks!. Thats something I am picking up in ample doses!.

Oh…Crunch!!

What makes man have an innate desire to cause destruction. Many of the things that he makes are actually built for destruction in the first place. Yes, I am talking about “popadums”. The little flat round brittle pieces of dough that are part and parcel of a south indian meal.

The manufacturing process is quite the toil. The dough is mixed in a mortar and pestle, and for those who are unfamiliar with the thing, its like benchpressing weights and shooting an arrow at the same time, with just one hand. The dough is then rested and rolled out into a thin sheet the thickness of a tin foil and flat as katrina kaif’s stomach. Its then cut into small round shapes and dried out in the sun. After all the blood, sweat and time has been put into it, it is then fried served, when it is promptly smashed in a matter of seconds. What a heart-wrenching waste of time and effort!! Its like painstakingly building a ship inside a bottle and then flushing the bottle down the toilet!!. Some even go to the extent of placing the popadum flat on the plate and bringing out thier pent up vengeance and vehemence on the poor wafer, to just shatter it to little pieces!

But why is a popadum round?. Why not square or triangular?. I think this has a lot to do with south indians and their affinity to this particular geometric shape. The argument of course it that everything in nature is round. The sun is round, the moon is round and so is the “ghatam” and the corresponding pot belly of the player. So the profusion of the shape and sense of aesthetics has led to the popadum, too being round.
Popadums have the loosest morals of any food item. That’s to say they go with almost anything. You can join them with rice, down them with idlis and I have even seen them being pushed in with biriyani. They appear at times as appetizers on the table too. Popadums come in many flavors. You can have them roasted over the fire or deep fried in oil or baked in the microwave. Their flavors range from regular to garlic to ginger etc to black pepper etc.
The name popadum too needs a little introspection. It almost seems that its etymology is derived by the mix of two words. Pop-(with)-a-DUM!. Which means you need to pop it with a deafening sound.!.
No matter what is said and done, these little round brittle pieces of dough are just too good!

True Heros

Courage, valor and honor have always been the most respected and admired forms of human charecter. Images of people who put thier lives for the sake of others, like firefighters, soldiers, policemen are always respected. I agree. And I take my hats off to them. But I belive the greatest and the most courageous of all people were the early cavemen who laid down thier lives trying to find edible food stuff. Men, women and kids who went “pop” while trying out strange colored berries and veggies. If you really think about it, it really takes awesome balls to pluck a totally unknown piece of fruit and be like…”hmm..lemme just try a nibble” and the next moment, you are lying there frothing at the mouth and your limbs spasming like a clock’s second hand that is stuck due to low battery.
Ok…I can understand fruits and berries, but how was that early man started eating potatoes and onions. What made the early man, tug at a little plant, uproot it from the ground and be like…”hey…its got some lumpy things attached to it…I am gonna try and eat this!”….
Well…..I guess, we modern day apes are far more cowardly than our ancestors, because we shrink away from strange foods, though they be the staple diet for other peoples!. Till later…cia

Before and After

It was well into the wee hours on a summer night and I was trying to complete my daily required dosage of TV. I happened to come across an infomercial for weight reduction pills. The ad claimed that all you needed to do was to pop this pill, and viola in a couple weeks your belly would go from that of an over due pregnant mom to that of a NFL running back. They kept showing before and after pictures of people, implying that they had lost all that weight. But the pictures could hardly be believed. Come on…., before picture of a ugly looking fat chick that transforms into a Scandinavian blonde in the after picture ; a balding paunchy guy with sagging breasts changes into a strapping hulk!…yeah right….Seeing how obviously made up these pictures are and that the “before” and “after” pictures are of two totally different guys, I came up with a brilliant plan. I have a proposal which I am planning to send to the companies that make weight reduction pills. Take a picture of me now. This could be used as the “After” picture. Then let me pig out for 6 months on a calorie rich diet of ice-creams, fried foods and good ole meat. Then when I have gained a few feet in circumference and added a couple more chins, you can take a picture. This would become the “Before” picture. Now you have an actual documented case, with picture proof of a “before” and “after” picture .And it is the same guy!! Now isnt that brilliant So guys go ahead, call the companies and let the pigging begin in earnest!.

Questions to ponder

1. If we do liposuction on cows, will we get lean meat or fat-free beef? 
2. Is there a parallel universe which has more answers than questions? 
3. How do you know if an elephant is obese just by looking at it?
4.  As they grow old, do snakes loose their teeth? ( I have never seen a toothless cobra or a viper)?

Explaining cave drawings

My dad was big on handwriting. In the old days, good handwriting was as good as having good palm lines. It was indicative of everything from good education, to good manners to exemplary virtues. It is to this effect that students are taught to write with pencils. All the kids from kindergarten to grade 5 use pencils. The reason forwarded is that a pencil has better control and versatility thus improving this motory skills, when compared to a pen. But I think the pencil use is due to the mothers not wanting to wash ink stains from shirts and dads not wanting to buy stacks of notebooks since pen writing is permanent!.But then I researched to find out that pencils started out their career in 1500 AD while pens predated them to 5000BC. No wonder all those cave drawings and papyrus writings are so illegible. If only they used pencils!

Is golf a game?

Games have always been invented by bored minds who have had nothing better to do or by people under the influence of some type of intoxicant. Most of the major sports have atleast one of the three simple requirements. 
1. There has to be a designated goal (any two long standing posts will do the job)..Soccer,football,hockey,basket ball
2. The ball should be hit with force over a net . (tennis,badminton,table tennis….etc)
3. The ball should be hit to the opponent with force (cricket, baseball,softball etc).

Now golf is the game I am reflecting upon. It has NO net, no hitting towards the opponet or a goal. The absurdity of it is to hit it into a cup from 300 ft away. I mean, the inventors of the game could not have put two posts up to say ..hit through here. No they had to make a small little hole and put a flag in it to know where it is and then walk to it. Most of the games,the strategy is to try and get as close to the goal as possible. But in golf its the otherway,the further away you hit it in from, the better your score is. A negative score is a good score!. I mean…come on ..thats basic mathematics!. You have a team. But the team spirit is lacking. Of ourse the reason for that is that your team mate is doing nothing but carrying your heavy bag of clubs,your lunch, your drink and trash can along, as you gaily lumber to the next hole.

A soft ball story

Women’s emancipation, liberation and equality took a beating the day I saw a softball match. I think softball is sexist. Its like telling the girls, since you are soft and cuddly and dainty, you cannot play baseball, but we will change the game for you. I think back in the hey days when women’s talents were confined to needlework,deft broom strokes and spice mixing, a group of burly chavunistic men got together to draft rules for a women’s version of baseball. This is what transpired at that meeting.
You shall play with a ball, the size of a Malta lime so that you don’t have to strain your arm throwing it .
You will the rule that it has to be thrown underarm.
 Since you might have trouble running, we will reduce the size of the field so that the pansy throws can reach the bases!.
 I mean to rub it in, they even named it softball!!. As if to indicate that its made of foam and feathers!.
Let me tell you, the women throw that “softball” at about 80mph.At that speed, even a mustard seed will hit like a canon ball. I think its high time we take up this ball of women’s liberation and throw some shoulder behind it.

Till then…..cia and watch out for the melons.

Talented?

If one had the ability to read a blonde’s mind, is that a worthwile talent?

Explorers

Men as we all have heard are notorious for getting lost. And the added injury is that they never ask for directions or follow instructions, if given. 
If ever a person was lost, then it was columbus. Its like a married man whose wife sends him to the supermarket and he forgets that one thing she sent him for. Columbus comes home..”Im home honey”…”Did u bring all the stuff I asked and the pepper”…..”err..sorry honey…i got lost”….”Good God!….after all it was just One thing. Tell me did u ask for directions”….”err…no..i was on a ship!”…..”BAH…Excuses…..you men think you can get anywhere..’….
I think the greatest explorers are not men but cockroaches. I wake up in the middle of the night and I see then scampering everywhere. You will never see more than two roaches over a single spot at anytime.They are out explroring. Across the carpet, into the depths of the trash can, across the seas of the filled sink, into the valleys of the stacked up cutlery. They are always scapmering, alone. And u know those long antenna, thats the flag!…you see one fluttering, you know it was a small leap for roaches!.
If you look closely all the greatest explorers were men. Why?. Cos in the middle ages,without sportcenter, the man show and delivery pizza, all a guy could do is get drunk. And as it is till this very day, the return to home from the bar brings out the constant nagging and a long to-d0-list. Think of living in a castle and having a no vaccum-cleaner. Thats your sunday for you, with a broom and a mop. So undoubtedly, the men were on voyages all the time, to get away from the constant nagging!. It is true, behind every sucessful explorer is a woman!.
Till then…..I am off to explore the worlds of New york and New Jersey! Till then …take care and safe exploring!

Spice up your life

We all keep telling each other that we need to “pep” it up. We need to spice up our life. You know who spiced up his life. Vasco de gama. Yeah. Thats right. Vasco de gama. He was, i guess, one day eating scrambled eggs, the usual old European style, bland as the Sunday afternoon DD art movie.!! And he is thinking. Man, I cant eat this stuff. I need some salt and pepper. I need to spice thing up. So what does he do?. Wears his shoes,unmasts his sails and sets out to find the pepper. Now thats what I call “a go getter”
They say that mankind has had a era of great explorers. A time when men dared to leave the known and venture to find out the unknown. Great names like colombus, vasco-de-gama, Livingstone, Thomas cook..etc..etc.. I think these men were not explorers by choice, but by necessity. The incessant nagging by their better halves might have drove them to the extreme step of sailing of into the horizon, seeking fleeing moments of peace and tranquility!. Think about middle age europe. There is no NFL, No Cable, No comedy central…..All you had is the incessant dribble from a nagging wife. No wonder all the explorers were MEN!!

Why?

If men are the ultimate couch potatoes and evolution is to be believed then why is it that women have bigger and curvier asses?

Newton’s Apples!

Sir Issac Newton has been a pain. Dabbling unnecessarily in all forms of science and math, thereby making our life in school, much more painful than what should be. The enduring tale about Newton is that he was sitting under an apple tree when an apple fell on him. This apple might have hit him really hard, with a thud, since his skull was crammed to the full with the grey matter. The young newton then asked the multi-million dollar question, why did it fall downwards rather than going up?.An interesting story there. But I call it ..all BS!. It has all the necessary “story” ingredients. The hero, a sunny day, a much loved fruit, rolling lush gardens etc etc. But I tell you. Its just not true!.
So here are my objections.
1. Newton was obsessed with math and science problems just like a teenaged boy with a playboy. How could he then have even dreamt of spending a good afternoon outside his house.?
2. Apple trees? Who has gardens of apple trees around their house?
3. If an apple falls on your head, you are gonna be pissed!! .You are gonna try and seek the guy who threw it on you from behind the tree.
I have a theory on how it actually happened.
On a bright warm summer morning, when Newton had awaken late from spending the night trying to prove that 1 is not equal to 2,  he was in the restroom going Peepee. Now absent minded dude that he was, he pulled up his zipper and felt the greatest pain that a man could feel!. His globes were now stuck. Eventually managing to free them bad boys, the ever inquisitive Newton was immediately stuck by the question. Why are my balls hanging down? Why are they not trying to fly up?. This my friends was the start of the greatest theory of physics. The theory of gravitation. If you think that Newton’s balls had no powers (especially since he died “pure” and “innocent” at the age of 84!), please do rethink. Here is a list of phenomenon explained on the basis of his balls.
1. Theory of gravitation
2. Theory of planetary motion
3. Theory of calculus (small increments!)
4. Theory of motion/momentum (don’t they always have two balls hitting each other problems in school??!!)
This and many others!. Now, how the “action has a reaction” law came about, I will leave it for you to speculate!.
Till then….hope you have the “stuff” to come up with new theories!. Take care and be safe!.

Up Up and Away!

Man has since time immemorial dreamt of a day he will be able to fly unhindered like a bird in the sky. I am today gonna tell you, how you can do this. Let me tell you, this is derived from stringent scientific calculations and relies on time tested laws of physics.

Let us consider a 160Lb person.
Given the graviational pull is (mass) x (g)^2 = 160 * (9.81)^2 = 15397.776.
The kinetic energy needed to counter this is 1/2 * mass * (velocity)^2 = 0.5*160 * (v)^2. This is equal to 80 (v)^2.
Equating both sides of the equation to solve for the velocity, V = sq.rt(15397.776 / 80) = 13.87 m/s. This works out to = 31.03 miles per hour.
So in order to take off, all you need to do is this.
1. Stand straight
2. Hold your legs apart at about 2 ft.
3. Fart at the speed of 31 mph!!.
4. Voila! You can now fly!
So till then hold your breath (you might HAVE to!!) and reach for those beans!.

A “creepy” superhero!

Superheros: yeah superheros. Last week saw the release of Spiderman 3. Its central character as the name implies is Spiderman. (DUH!!..eh)..I am gonna trying and explain to you guys, why spiderman, the superhero,  is not worth any mention at all.
Lets first look at some of his comrades. We have superman, quintessentially the epitome of a superhero. In a brilliant move, who ever the creator of superman was, was was able to create a superhero that had all the qualities and all the possible powers a human could probably have, by naming him “super” man. How do u top that!. Its like someone who gets the middle seat in the top balcony row at a theatre. There is no better seat!!. Then there is the superhero named “invisible man”. A power so unique,  it can be used to do so much good in society. It is a power sought out by great military might’s, scientists, law enforcement officials, civillian do-gooders. But its also a power that can be used for evil and hence sought out by perverts and peeping toms. We then have batman. Er…He dosent have any supernatural powers, but his ride sure rocks. I think all his “power” is in his batmobile. Come on, isnt that the ultimate chick magnet!!. Think about it. If you were to cruise through town in that car with loud gangsta rap music rocking from your speakers, wont you be picking up chicks, left and right?. After all what more power would a guy want other than having a sure bet car!. So as we see, most of the superheros have powers that make them unique.
Now lets look at spiderman and his powers.
1. Er.. What powers?
2. Shoots cobwebs ( which as we all know, are as strong as a single fallen hair against a hurricane)
3. He can frighten people (There is just one historically documented occasion. This is when Ms. Muffet was eating her whey!)
4. He can talk through a mask that covers his whole face. (Er..defies physics…but…)
5. His girlfriend knows who he is. (Say good bye to cheating on her, or ever dumping her ass!)
6. His nails are not exposed since he wears a full body suit. (So how does he peel off a bumper sticker?)
 Not many people are scared of spiders.I know there are spiders out there whose bite can be fatal at times. But those are very rare and are deep in the Amazon. Studies show that an average human eats about 5 to 6 spiders in his sleep, during a lifetime!. My little cousin stomps them under his foot when he sees one. And he is really little!!. So next time someone say spiderman is awesome cos he swings around obstacles, tell them that tarzan did it too, and that too with just a tiger skin, g-string on him.

A GoldFINGER to the Goldfish

 Fish tanks sell dime-a-dozen. Their connoisseurs claim that looking at the fishes swimming in tranquility gives them a sense of contentment and satisfaction in an enclosed lifestyle. Lets for a minute consider a goldfishe’s life. For a little while, lets put ourselves into a goldfishes “scales”. Since I am an engineer, for simplicity,lets us consider the most probable condition, that of one gold fish in a single glass bowl.This is what you would have to encounter.

1. Your whole world can be measured in inches.

2. You have to drink your own pee.(I am sure the fishes never get diabetes!)

3. The only company you have is yourself

4. Its the same old – same old food everyday.

5. There is no privacy since your walls are made of glass

Then beyond all this is the constant fear that some kid might try and set you free by pouring you into the toilet bowl.

This brings me to an interesting question. Why would you want a fish as a pet?

1. You cannot touch them or hug them.

2.They will not protect you when a burglar breaks in (the fish is neither gonna create a ruckus nor will it bite the burglar).

3. A fish will not react to super-natural elements like when ghosts and goblins come avisitin.

4. When you come home from a tiring day at work, it will not jump around you in joy.

5. You cannot play “fetch” with a fish. (try throwing a ball and see if it brings it back to you)

6. It will always talk back at you. (look at their gaping mouths that keep moving)

7. They are snobbish to the extreme (They will either ignore you or wriggle their ass at you, as you talk)

So in essence the whole deal about feeling harmony when you look at a fish is just plain nonsense. It would actually depress you to see them mindlessly swiming without any aim or reason whatsoever. Visit the same old places in the tank,go around the same routine all day!.Now would’nt that remind you of your own “bored to your bones” lifestyle!.Who would wanna trade thier current lives to live in a manner described above!.

Till later…signing off

tariq

Can I have your John Hancock Please?

Once upon a time, when mail meant the now termed snail mail, when you had to manually write a letter, the signature at the end is what authenticated it. Men have for centuries prided on their signatures. It was a symbol of who they were and what they wanted people to think about them. We have records of great conversations among men, great declarations that have changes the times, great surrenders, great wars, all spelled out and signed by the people who believed and carried them out.
I have know people who play around with their signatures. Here is a short list of things that I have seen in a signature.
1. Names cryptically written within the signature (most often of the “beloved”)
2. Smileys at the end of the signature (yeah grow up)
3. The dots over the “i” is changed to hearts
4. An untillagable scribble (just like how snot looks in a tissue)
5. Totally crisscrossed (like the plumbing system in an old Indian hostel)
6. Strange symbols which have a hidden meaning to the person himself (or they might just be alphabets that he has invented)

Now in this day and age, where electronic version is the most common form of communication. The signature has been relegated to a simple
What’s the deal with people having tag-names to their “signatures”. People quoting words which they think are inspirational but are nothing but weird crap strung together haphazardly in a sentence. The structure and grammar make the sentence sound exactly like yoda from starwars speaking in between breaths after running an intergalactic marathon. These tag signatures are funny,thought provoking,encouraging or for the most time bewildering. Especially of the people who post in south Asian themed forums. You just cannot make any sense of their signature tag lines.
The future is already here. You have online petitions wherein you can sign your name to thousands others who have, to save the scraggy looking rabid dogs that people who normally throw sticks at. Or you can sign the petition to remove tomatoes from marinara sauce because your astrologer has predicted that red is dangerous for you. You can now send electronic signatures to buy tickets, to complete bank transactions, to do online share trading etc….The credit card machines now have machine readable signature pens. Though they are like using the end of a pole vault stick to switch off your kitchen light..The list is growing. Soon sign-in sheets at quilting conventions, Sign-in book at your favorite Chinese restaurant, the wedding registry for your pets wedding or even the sign-up sheet for the free T-Shirts that credit card companies have at the tables in the mall.
So with this. I signoff with a flourish.
Till later ….cia

The pandoras box in my throat

There are many secrets that men hide in their breasts.But more sinister and dark is the one that’s hidden in the throats.Yep…the sound box. Einstein said, God does not play dice, when he heard heisenberg’s uncertainty theory.The voice box is a testification to God’s creation of uncertainty and diversity. You can at times hear the most melodious of sounds and at other times hear the vilest of noises. Yes, I agree singing is a talent and takes a lot of effort and dedication. But I think,that not singing , when you know that you sound like a cricket with a sore throat,is more talented and takes more effort.
I belong to the latter kind. The kind whose voice would wake the dead and make the deaf here. It starts out pretty good and nice when I talk. Its when I try to mold it into a rhythm that it starts to slip and have a form of its own.Once I start out on a tune, it begins to sound like a man who has sat on a pin, leading to sounding like a cat clawing over a mirror and then climaxing to a shriek that would give Hitchcock the chills. So knowing my talents well, but having the singing cells in abundance, i do all my riyaaz behind the curtain. The shower curtain that is. There is something “show-businessy”(pun intended!!) of singing behind the shower curtain.For one,there is no audience to boo you. Secondly you are one with nature (er..pun again) and thirdly I do feel like singing. With the water running,it feels like Gene Kelly without the umbrella and I go…”Singing in the rain……..I’m singing in the rain”
But there are others, whose ears instead of acting as a giant receptor of sound waves, act as a solid plug with a handle.They are those to whom their own voices are not heard. Their brain perceives their croaking and converts these jarring waves into smooth melodies just for themselves.These are the ones that sing at the drop of a hat.They are the ones that fill the lines at the American idol auditions.These are the ones that provide the best entertainment when they are drunk.Although I can enumerate their usefulness, the truth of the matter is that they are a pain in the …hmm..”ear”.
So please spend a minute, murmur a few lines of your favourite song and strain to hear yourself. If you felt like your eardrums were poked with icicles, then you must relegate yourself to the bathtub arena and swap the karaoke mike for a bar of soap.!
Till later..cia

I’m a Smiley Hater!

I have been called many names in my life. Here is a new one, that has tagged along quite recently. “A SMILEY HATER”. Yep….You heard it right…A smiley hater!. A person who hates smileys. [For people who are scrathing thier heads ..this is a smiley ]Why? Because I see smileys in profusion. On T-shirts,In Walmart (rollback!), on cars, on sign boards, virtually everywhere. I cannot have a electronic chat with someone without it popping up. And it mocks you when you play minesweeper, watching your every move and quietly chuckling to itself as your step onto one!. No seriously, if you were to walk all day with an idiotic broad smile on your face , how painful would it be!? How can a guy not hate smileys after all this!!.
I do not know when or where the smiley was born. It might have been created by forest gump wiping his face on a t-shirt or it could be created by whoopi goldberg sitting on a t-shirt. Or it could be a guy who puked onto a shirt after getting plastered at a frat party, throwing up his dinner of cheese and olive pizza (hence the yellow color and black eyes!). For I could care less. Smileys. I am told,is the portrayal of emotions, like contentment,happiness,satisfaction etc, being expressed in the form of a drawing or a figure. Hmm..so far so good. So who sends it?. My research has shown that people who want to express these emotions but are either too ugly or bashful to show their faces tend to utilize it. Why not just send a smiling pic of yourself instead?. Or it could be that these people think that the smiley resembles their selves!. That they go around with a smiling face,are nice to people and are always happy about their life. NOT TRUE!!.The very fact that you hide behind a made up picture, masks your true introversive behavior!.
Smiley are also not that great. They have their own numerous disadvantages. Like for example:
1. They are as BALD as a baby’s bottom
2. They are as blind as a  bat (because they have button eyes)
3. It stinks BIG time (cos they don’t have a nose!)
4. Thier hearing is as good as a piece of wood
5. They are just SICK (just look at their pale yellow skin color!)
6. And come on…What are they? ..Male or Female??

So these are the reasons that I am a smiley hater. Now, note, I am NOT a “smile” hater, just a smiley hater!. Smiles, when meant, show warmth and affection. They can brighten up a gloomy day or sprinkle mirth on a frosty face. There is no value that one can put on a smile, But a smiley costs just $1.29 on a pin-up button!. So spread some good cheer and warmth through smiles to everyone you know,see or pass by. But stop the spread of smileys!.
Till then..take care and keep smiling (although not like a smiley!)

All’s well that ends well!

All’s well that ends well. Thus goes the adage. I am sure the person who thought that up was either talking about food or abt . For I am sure this cannot apply to any other facet of life. For example lets just consider the “end” stage to my spring break trip to FL.. The beginning of the end started with everyone of us scampering from the starting block. Everyone (that’s 8 of us) managed to pull our Heine’s off our beds and start packing our stuff earnestly. The spring in our actions was owed to two facts. One was the lure of Desi breakfast in Orlando, of dosas,idlis and vadas, and the other was of the loath of being late to meet-up with the second car a few miles away in FL. We left the house and reached the Indian restaurant, only to see the images of white mounds of idlis and crispy golden vadas shimmer into an abysmal mirage. The restaurant was closed!. So we pull our stomachs together and decide to head to I-hop. Now brainwave struck again and we decide in the I-hop parking lot to go to a untested restaurant called chipotle. So we drag off to find one in that neighbourhood. Then, as the flow of this story has been, you have guessed it right. it was closed too. So we head back to I-hop and then order breakfast. After a lot of tomfoolery and a couple of calls from the guy who is to meet up with us, we finally head out.Just an hour and 45 mins late from our actual departure time!!!. 
Now as we are cruising through sun country, the brakes get applied hard because there is an accident on the road. After about 45 min. of crawling we get through. Then the drive continued until we decide to take a short coffee break. Now, the gear shifter got jammed and all the “four engineers and their brains could not put humpty dumpty back again”. So after some arm-wrestling with the gear shifter, it  finally relented to fall into Drive. Next thing to happen was thick traffic on the approach to atlanta. Now armed with a map-book and finest desi minds that could be in a car, we decide to chart our own route. We took an exit and took the county roads. Now the thing about county roads is that they are county roads that connect various counties to the interstate and to the city. So we, along with the other hundred bumpkins who were smart enough to take it, are all stuck along the many signals and stop signs that adorn the single lane highway. Finally after an hour we reach the interstate and drive for a few miles. This is when the stomach started to have its voice heard. And let me tell you, when the stomach starts to voice its demands and the tongue too jumps in to lend it a loud bassed chorus, there is nothing that the brain or the limbs can do. The copious flow of saliva and the mental images that come with it are strong enough to drown any rebellion from any quarter of the body. So off we took an exit looking for a particular indian restaurant. And as the common thread in the story goes, yet again, we are lost. After an hour of driving up and down we managed to find it. Tactically parking the car to ensure we did not have to hurt the feelings of the gear shifter took another 10 min. We ate and headed out, only to get lost again and spending another 20 min getting back on track. Then after a couple hours, guess what, stuck again. This time the traffic is at a dead halt. A few hundred meters ahead a semi is in flames and is burning hot. So is my brain and my ass!!. How much more can a guy endure I ask. After a good 45 min we move again. Finally reaching Knoxville at 2 am. Any other guy must think this might be the proverbial last straw on the camels back, but for me, its just another hair in the porridge. I go pick my car up, only to find my rear door window shattered by some one who broke into it. Now call up insurance, etc etc…2:30am. Drove back home with one open window when the temperature outside is 35deg. I was hunched over the air vents running my heater at full blast while my ears were ringing from the cold air. Reached home at 3am and the room heater was turned off. So I sat on the bed…rubbing my palms together to get some heat. And then sleep at 3:15 am only to wake up at 5 am to go to work…..Hmm….Now, the whole FL trip was awesome except for the ending bit. Hence my argument that “alls well that ends well” might be true, but its inverse, “all that ends bad” need not be bad!.

Grinding my gears

I consider my anger management skills to rival those of bobby flay with a grill. But there are some things that grind my gears. Things that get me worked up like a pressure cooker that is starting to hum softly before it lets of the mighty whistle. One of the things on this tiny list, which can be scribbled on a Tylenol capsule, is people using check’s to pay at the counter. Now, I am all about people having check books with their favorite backgrounds imprinted on it. You can see people having pictures of their pets, patriotic images, images of polar bears and pandas etc. etc. Among them was one that had a “smiley” imprinted on it. Seriously, who would want to give a check with a smiley on it. When you have to shell out your money to somebody or some corporations, I am sure that your are not all “smiley-smiley”…..Talk about “reality check!”….
Now here is an often repeated scenario. You go shopping, pick up a loaf of bread and a drink and head to the counters. Now as you ponder which line on the counter you should take, your eye catches the “express lane” board and you get sold on it. Now you go stand in that lane and are as pleased as “little jack horner who pulled out a plum, since there is only one person in front of you and their items are being scanned. As you tell yourself how well you did to save time, like how you were able to park really close to the door, how you exactly knew where the bread was, how you walked through the women’s clothing aisle just to save time, you realize that the billing has come to a grinding halt. You now see the person dip into their purse/pocket and whip out a check book. The clouds of wrath start to assemble over your head. The person then proceeds to pull the pen and itsstring, which for reasons unknown always gets tangled and knotted somewhere. Then comes the check writing. The procedure is as follows.
1. Ask the cashier who to address the check to
2.Ask for the spelling
3. Ask if its OK to spell otherwise
4. Write down the name
5. Ask for the total amount.
6. Check for the total amount on the screen.
7.Ask for the total amount again.
8. Mull over what to write in comments
9. Be pleased with what you wrote
10. Sign the check
Then the cashier asks for ID. Then act surprised and search for ID. I mean, how much intelligence do you need to keep it ready, after all this is surely not the first time you are writing one. Atleast not by the look of your skin and the ravages that age has played on you!..Hunh
You would think after all this the torture has ended. No its not…There is more to come. Its like being kicked in the nuts, and you would think the ultimate pain is over, but then comes the swearing and the ridicule. Exactly similar is when after all this, the person has the nerve to stand and balance the check book…..!!! Incredulous!!!…..Given that your smartness is in a tiny box up in the attic at your place, is the first reason you don’t have a checking card to begin, now don’t try and do simple mathematics that gonna be as laborious as single handedly manicuring King-kong’s nails!.
Well…now you would agree that if you are being subjected to such third degree torture, you would be gnashing you teeth as me…So i guess I got no anger management troubles…….TEE…DEEDEEE….OOO…LA….LALA…..
So long…and if you are using a cheque….Please be considerate…or if you hear thunder,it might just be me fuming in the line behind you.!!
later.

Its all chciken

Tastes like chicken…
Do this experiment. Gather a bunch of random people and give them random food stuff to taste. The answer will almost always be ..tastes like chicken. Half of the things to taste in the world, I am sure, tastes like chicken. Be it rattlesnake meat, Frog legs, alligator meat…name it and the response is always, it tastes like chicken. Like, turkey is an “louis-armstrong” version of chicken, in that it is leaner, goes further and can endure long hours.(of cooking). Tuna is labeled “chicken of the sea”. Why?..Does is run around in the water clucking like a chicken, or does it lay nice big eggs…NO….just because it tastes like chicken.
Now comes the main question. What does chicken taste like. I know people out there are slowly nodding their head, going…you moron…it tastes like chicken…true…but what is it!….I doubt if any one can ever answer that question. Ask the greatest food connoisseurs and they cannot come up with an apt definition. In the end, just like in physics where the speed of light is the absolute constant in all frames of reference, so is chicken to the world of food.
Armed with this knowledge, you could be at any party, bragging to the fine ladies about your exploits and culinary adventures in many parts of the worlds. And when asked about some particular food item, that would offend the sensibilities of a hungry vulture, you can twirl you moustache and slap your thighs to say …”yeah….i have had it….”It tastes likes chicken!!!”….

Hair Raising

Today’s morning dawned up bright and blue. As I stumbled into the restroom I glanced across the mirror only to reel back in disbelief. I had one of the worst cases of “bed-head”. I must say I have a luscious head of locks just like a ripe cabbage and since I had not had a haircut since early January, my hair looked like a mop that has been left out squeezed and dried. I ran my fingers through them and was sure it might cause some paper-cuts on my fingers.
So now I am thinking, whats the big deal about hair. Hair, I believe, is just like adding salt to your dish. Too little and its bland, too much and you just can’t stomach it. For people hair is the epitome of honor and self-respect. Its the crown of the head. Hence the dictum to have it shaved off during pilgrimages.
Hair comes in many forms,colors and shapes, just like Michael Jackson!.Black,brunette,blonde,curly,bristly,receding,growing etc.
There are many moments in life that makes one nervous. Moments just before an exam result is announced, blood test results,last minutes of the game,when you hear the automated caller go, “the balance on your phone card is…”, etc. But the most nervous moment is when you come out of the hair saloon with a new hair-do into public. Though you know its gonna grow back , the dread of public ridicule and criticism from your friends is just gut-wrenching.

Well…I am off to the barber with butterflies in my stomach and dread in my footsteps…Wish me luch guys…..