Miss. BS is in complete grief during the entire condolence meet, so that is what the others think. In fact, Miss BS's concentrating on an ugly, scaly house lizard on the wall. The lizard is waiting anxiously for the fly, the fly who is flying listlessly around the defunct, aged neon tube, which can emit light only in short bursts.....
"Miss BS Personality"- A report by Dr. Carl Jung (Analytical Psychologist)
She lives in the world of theoretical possibilities. She sees everything in terms of how it could be improved, or what it could be turned into. She lives primarily inside her own mind, having the ability to analyze difficult problems, identify patterns, and come up with logical explanations. She seeks clarity in everything, and is therefore driven to build knowledge. She is the "absent-minded professor", who highly values intelligence and the ability to apply logic to theories to find solutions. She typically is so strongly driven to turn problems into logical explanations, that she lives much of her life within her own head, and may not place as much importance or values on the external world. Her natural drive to turn theories into concrete understanding may turn into a feeling of personal responsibility to solve theoretical problems, and help society move towards a higher understanding.
She values knowledge above all else. Her mind is constantly working to generate new theories, or to prove or disprove existing theories. She approaches problems and theories with enthusiasm and skepticism, ignoring existing rules and opinions and defining her own approach to the resolution. She seeks patterns and logical explanations for anything that interests her. She is usually extremely bright, and able to be objectively critical in their analysis. She loves new ideas, and becomes very excited over abstractions and theories. She loves to discuss these concepts with others. She may seem "dreamy" and distant to others, because she spends a lot of time inside their minds musing over theories. She hates to work on routine things - she would much prefer to build complex theoretical solutions, and leaves the implementation of the system to others. She is intensely interested in theory, and will put forth tremendous amounts of time and energy into finding a solution to a problem which has piqued her interest.
..... So she is watching the ugly, scaly house lizard on the wall when the fly rests in a trapping distance of the lizard. The lizard flexes her muscles and so does Miss. BS. In a flash, it darts its tongue towards its prey...
"Let me now call upon Miss BS to say something" so calls the host speaking from the dias.
...towards its prey, and it misses the fly.
"Oh God !! Oh god!! why did you do this" exclaims Miss. BS. The audience nods in grief thinking she has said this for the dead 'me'. With concentration disturbed, she realises that she has been called over the dias. With a ruffled up look she makes her way towards the dias, still grieving over the lizard's lost catch.
" Today we have lost a great man. He was the only person who stood by me when i discussed the intricacies of the Lizard Theory and its effects on the human psyche. Well he is one person in the world ofcourse apart from me who could undertsand a Lizard. May his soul rest in Peace" and she leaves the dias with confused faces trying to decipher what she meant by the Lizard Theory and her need to discuss it at this time.
"well he was known as a lizard in the office"assured one of my smart-alec relative to his neighbour who nodded in agreement.
So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell,
Blue sky's from pain.
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
Friday, January 13, 2012
Thursday, January 05, 2012
The five cooks and the salt
The students of seventh grade at the town school were looking forward to the History class as always. History class broke the monotony of the entire day because of Mrs B's teaching methods. History was taught to students in the form of story telling, sometimes incorrect, sometimes exaggerated, but always interesting. A numerous times the teacher would just break into a story and the children would wonder what provoked it. Fiercely from the aristocratic philosophy of politics, often Mrs. B would thought provoking parables about mythological gods, historical figures and sometimes about people the students had no idea about.
So that day Mrs. B was especially in a very good mood. The class went about as usual with a story of Rasputin and how Russia entered the world war-I. According to her Rasputin had a high standing in the political matters of Russia's monarchy and it was he who persuaded Csar Nicholas II to extend support to the Entente Powers. Now nobody had the slightest idea of how it came or from where did it come but suddenly Mrs B said "... and now i would tell you the story of five cooks of the kingdom of S..". Then she retreated saying "... no just forget it for now. I would tell this to you tomorrow..". By this time though every sleeping person looked at her with rapt attention and anticipation. Virtually falling at her feet begging, the entire class began coaxing her to tell the tale. Probably out of habbit just to create some suspense and interest for the story she began to oppose the student's coaxing. The students were adament though and finally persuaded her to tell the tale. She relented after all, and so she began" Once upon a time in the kingdom of S, the king decided to host a grand dinner party. Hence the five royal cooks decided that the dinner would start with an excellent soup." Suddenly Mrs. B's story was interrupted by the shrilly sound of the school bell announcing the history class was over. Mrs. B gathered all her notes and abruptly left the class saying "I shall tell you the remainder of the story tomorrow."
Next day and the students wait anxiously for the history class. The wait is over and Mrs B enters. Every students jump of their desk shouting " the story! the story!" and Mrs B says "Let me first teach you about the russian revolution and the fall of csar and begins the class with the Lenin and the rise of communism, the Bloody Sunday and finally the fall of csar. Now the students being impatient remind her of the unfinished story. "Yes, yes the story" she says it as if she has all forgotten."So as i was telling you people" she adjusts her spectacles
".. The five cooks after days elaborate planning and consulting several age old recipes finally made the recipe to the most delicious soup according to them. The day arrived and they satrted preparing the soup. Finally the time arrived when they had to put salt into the soup. So one of them said that he would undertake this task and others protested. After a long fight which had narrowly come to a fist fight they all decided everyone would add their share of salt to the soup. They all added the salt....
...and students do you know what happened" Mrs B looks at all with her wizened expression
" and do you know what happened?" she asks again and everyone waits with attention, almost coming to the edge of their seats.
" The soup became salty. After all what would happen if you add so much salt to something" she says as a matter of fact.
The shrilly bell rings Mrs. B again gathers all her notes and is almost about to leave the class when she sees all the confused faces and says " Thats it. That was the story. After all what would happen to a soup if you add so much salt to it".
So that day Mrs. B was especially in a very good mood. The class went about as usual with a story of Rasputin and how Russia entered the world war-I. According to her Rasputin had a high standing in the political matters of Russia's monarchy and it was he who persuaded Csar Nicholas II to extend support to the Entente Powers. Now nobody had the slightest idea of how it came or from where did it come but suddenly Mrs B said "... and now i would tell you the story of five cooks of the kingdom of S..". Then she retreated saying "... no just forget it for now. I would tell this to you tomorrow..". By this time though every sleeping person looked at her with rapt attention and anticipation. Virtually falling at her feet begging, the entire class began coaxing her to tell the tale. Probably out of habbit just to create some suspense and interest for the story she began to oppose the student's coaxing. The students were adament though and finally persuaded her to tell the tale. She relented after all, and so she began" Once upon a time in the kingdom of S, the king decided to host a grand dinner party. Hence the five royal cooks decided that the dinner would start with an excellent soup." Suddenly Mrs. B's story was interrupted by the shrilly sound of the school bell announcing the history class was over. Mrs. B gathered all her notes and abruptly left the class saying "I shall tell you the remainder of the story tomorrow."
Next day and the students wait anxiously for the history class. The wait is over and Mrs B enters. Every students jump of their desk shouting " the story! the story!" and Mrs B says "Let me first teach you about the russian revolution and the fall of csar and begins the class with the Lenin and the rise of communism, the Bloody Sunday and finally the fall of csar. Now the students being impatient remind her of the unfinished story. "Yes, yes the story" she says it as if she has all forgotten."So as i was telling you people" she adjusts her spectacles
".. The five cooks after days elaborate planning and consulting several age old recipes finally made the recipe to the most delicious soup according to them. The day arrived and they satrted preparing the soup. Finally the time arrived when they had to put salt into the soup. So one of them said that he would undertake this task and others protested. After a long fight which had narrowly come to a fist fight they all decided everyone would add their share of salt to the soup. They all added the salt....
...and students do you know what happened" Mrs B looks at all with her wizened expression
" and do you know what happened?" she asks again and everyone waits with attention, almost coming to the edge of their seats.
" The soup became salty. After all what would happen if you add so much salt to something" she says as a matter of fact.
The shrilly bell rings Mrs. B again gathers all her notes and is almost about to leave the class when she sees all the confused faces and says " Thats it. That was the story. After all what would happen to a soup if you add so much salt to it".
Monday, January 02, 2012
The chaotic gang and the dirty movie
The chaotic gang had upholded the dignity of its name i all respects. A bunch of not-so-good in academic excellence at the law college, broke all barriers of human decorum and plunged into the pleasure of anarchism, though nothing they did had serious repercussions in the laW of the land, yet they created a serious bedlam among the neighbourhood. Led by the Boar, a witty 17 year old coming from a conservative family with an intelligent sister in her final semester of Medicine Degree,who always despised all traditions and prided himself with a Kurt Cobain print t-shirt symbolizing his undying support for grunge and anarchism, the chaotic gang were involved in acts that would be shun by every law abiding citizens. From abusing substances and peddling them, putting their money down on all forms of street gambling, to spreading rumours at their college. One such rumour was that the Principal had a fetish watching young ladies urinating so much so that he had installed hidden cameras in the ladies washrooms. This rumour had serious consequences, girls in grip of fear of getting exposed would never visit the washroom and as result their health was greatly affected. Yet, the principal never realised this prank and gracefully (or maybe not so gracefully in the eyes of the fairer sex) retired the following month.
Another act that they greatly indulged in was the love for pornography. Every week, mostly wednesdays all the gang members would assemble at Boars house, usually at a time when his father was out for work, his mother attending the neighbourhood women's club meet and his sister away at her college. For three hours they watched all dirty movies ranging from several geographic locations from Canada, to latin american, from italian to fillipino. Several genres included from wild orgies to plain vanilla to sado-masochism to hidden footages. Among their favorite and the most rarely found were the footages involving young girls from their own small state. That was real action as they called it. Though they were just films made by amateur film makers which seriously lacked quality yet nonetheless it had a cult following and the few footages available had a great demand.
So on the fateful wednesday all members gather around the television set at the Boar's house with the Kitten, the youngest gang member of the Chaotic Gang, fidgetting the CD player whilst trying to play CD, Domingo, the video parlour guy had handed him promising a great show. The CD he said was about a non-descript state girl from some college, who wasnt great to look at but gave a splendid performance in the footage. The film starts and we see a run down barn nestled in a dense foliage of country. The scene changes and we see the inside of the farm and a lively girl fellating on her partner who comfortably enjoys every bit of it in the barn laden with hay.
Suddenly she looks at the camera and everyone in the Chaotic Gang turn scarlet red as they all in the flash of the moment stare at the Boar. Boar sits motionless at the sight, his face drained of all blood and rushes, in a fit of fury, towards the window of his apartment on the 6th floor. All he is thinking...."why did my sister had to do this".....
The grass was greener;
the light was brighter;
with friends surrounded;
the nights of wonder.
Another act that they greatly indulged in was the love for pornography. Every week, mostly wednesdays all the gang members would assemble at Boars house, usually at a time when his father was out for work, his mother attending the neighbourhood women's club meet and his sister away at her college. For three hours they watched all dirty movies ranging from several geographic locations from Canada, to latin american, from italian to fillipino. Several genres included from wild orgies to plain vanilla to sado-masochism to hidden footages. Among their favorite and the most rarely found were the footages involving young girls from their own small state. That was real action as they called it. Though they were just films made by amateur film makers which seriously lacked quality yet nonetheless it had a cult following and the few footages available had a great demand.
So on the fateful wednesday all members gather around the television set at the Boar's house with the Kitten, the youngest gang member of the Chaotic Gang, fidgetting the CD player whilst trying to play CD, Domingo, the video parlour guy had handed him promising a great show. The CD he said was about a non-descript state girl from some college, who wasnt great to look at but gave a splendid performance in the footage. The film starts and we see a run down barn nestled in a dense foliage of country. The scene changes and we see the inside of the farm and a lively girl fellating on her partner who comfortably enjoys every bit of it in the barn laden with hay.
Suddenly she looks at the camera and everyone in the Chaotic Gang turn scarlet red as they all in the flash of the moment stare at the Boar. Boar sits motionless at the sight, his face drained of all blood and rushes, in a fit of fury, towards the window of his apartment on the 6th floor. All he is thinking...."why did my sister had to do this".....
The grass was greener;
the light was brighter;
with friends surrounded;
the nights of wonder.
Sunday, January 01, 2012
My Condolence Meeting - Allegory of my life - Part II
The dias was now taken over by MR. KA, my boss at work. He always had a vermillion mark on his forehead which showed his constant devotion to some hindu god, which one i am not sure of. He was a philosopher just like i was but certainly not an Utopian. He was full of swamis and sants and numerous babas, the foundations for life, the foundations for after life, yoga a path to salvation. He was not too fond of me neither did he hate me, ofcourse his mentors preached him love for all. "This is breaking the family system in India. Homosexuality is not natural and can be treated."he was heard saying a times too many, repeating the great words of the even greater yoga mentor, one with the long flowing greatest black beard who always accused the government of cheating him and led blind flocks to the streets with his fast unto death. My boss was proud member of this flock, so iwas it embossed in a cheap plastic badge which he proudly displayed on his breast pocket.
So he was wearing one when he took over the dias. "Ofcourse good employees are hard to find these days"he said it as a matter of fact. "But he was a a rare gem and it would take years to find one. Truly a gem i say, truly a gem hard to find." The truth was he had already found my replacement, a prize catch who was as talented with computers as i was (not that i was much too talented), who worked at half of the salary i took home and a person who was too eager to please his boss and certainly did not ask him inconvinient questions that challenged his philosophy like me.
"Öfcourse i had told him to perform yoga to cleanse his mind. Numerous times i even offered him cd's of the yoga guru, his holiness, Baba R. but his mind was full of alien ideas, ideas of what did he call himself .... hmmm yes, agnosticism, stupid ideas youth nowadays go around with. But he was truly a gem, a great loss to me, to my team and to my organization"
He climbed down the dias with his head hung low trying to appear remorseful and took his chair. An elderly man sitting next to him asked him what agnosticism really meant. "Trying to act like the foreigners"he was heard saying " We are blindly following the West in everything. This is breaking the family system in India. Homosexuality is not natural and can be treated. If the government brings this law, I will join Baba R. to the streets of Delhi in protest." and the other person nodded in agreement> I still did not understand what had homosexuality to do with my death but the person sitting next to him might have had.
There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship, smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying.
When I was a child I had a fever
My hands felt just like two balloons.
Now I've got that feeling once again
I can't explain you would not understand
This is not how I am.
I have become comfortably numb.
So he was wearing one when he took over the dias. "Ofcourse good employees are hard to find these days"he said it as a matter of fact. "But he was a a rare gem and it would take years to find one. Truly a gem i say, truly a gem hard to find." The truth was he had already found my replacement, a prize catch who was as talented with computers as i was (not that i was much too talented), who worked at half of the salary i took home and a person who was too eager to please his boss and certainly did not ask him inconvinient questions that challenged his philosophy like me.
"Öfcourse i had told him to perform yoga to cleanse his mind. Numerous times i even offered him cd's of the yoga guru, his holiness, Baba R. but his mind was full of alien ideas, ideas of what did he call himself .... hmmm yes, agnosticism, stupid ideas youth nowadays go around with. But he was truly a gem, a great loss to me, to my team and to my organization"
He climbed down the dias with his head hung low trying to appear remorseful and took his chair. An elderly man sitting next to him asked him what agnosticism really meant. "Trying to act like the foreigners"he was heard saying " We are blindly following the West in everything. This is breaking the family system in India. Homosexuality is not natural and can be treated. If the government brings this law, I will join Baba R. to the streets of Delhi in protest." and the other person nodded in agreement> I still did not understand what had homosexuality to do with my death but the person sitting next to him might have had.
There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship, smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying.
When I was a child I had a fever
My hands felt just like two balloons.
Now I've got that feeling once again
I can't explain you would not understand
This is not how I am.
I have become comfortably numb.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
My Condolence Meeting - Allegory of my life - Part I
12 hours ago i was dead, 4 hours ago i was creamted, few seconds ago my condolence meeting just started. The only problem was that it was a summer evening in Goa and profusely sweating people were discussing the frequent power cuts and the inefficiancy of the state minister for power. My ashes were still wrapped tightly in the metallic urn and my fate undecided as at the end of the meet it would be decided as to in which sacred river i would be flown. The first speaker was my close friend Mr.AD. Teary eyed already, going through his ritual practice of eating his nails from his thumb, looking at his thumb inorder to appreciate his own art of manicure and resuming his nail biting once again. While not speaking about me he spoke at lengths about the merits of going abroad and how the life was much more beautiful there, how much more you can earn and how nescessary it is to go abroad on a company sponsoredtrip to prove yourself a worthy person.
He stood on the dias and gave all the spectators a truly remarkable performance by speaking about how we both met at the notice boards of the academic sections of our engineering college. How our grades were miserable and how bad it was that our professors could not discover true academic talent. As according to him our biggest enemy was Prof B. a dark stocky professor who was simply was recruited by the college to harass us. Finally allowing the spectators with the wisdom that i wished desperately to go abroad which is not true in its entirity, and probably i took it so much to my heart and probably again that was the cause of my death. Finally ending the well crafted speech with the merits of being abroad and how much a common man should make one's duty to go abroad on a company trip atleast once in one's lifetime.
So true was the spectacle that everyone in the meet nodded in agreement. Looking through the metallic urn i could not really figure what the people were nodding at, was it my inept failure to go abroad or their own inept failures to go abroad
Hello?
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone at home?
Come on, now,
I hear you're feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain
And get you on your feet again.
Relax.
I need some information first.
Just the basic facts
Can you show me where it hurts?
He stood on the dias and gave all the spectators a truly remarkable performance by speaking about how we both met at the notice boards of the academic sections of our engineering college. How our grades were miserable and how bad it was that our professors could not discover true academic talent. As according to him our biggest enemy was Prof B. a dark stocky professor who was simply was recruited by the college to harass us. Finally allowing the spectators with the wisdom that i wished desperately to go abroad which is not true in its entirity, and probably i took it so much to my heart and probably again that was the cause of my death. Finally ending the well crafted speech with the merits of being abroad and how much a common man should make one's duty to go abroad on a company trip atleast once in one's lifetime.
So true was the spectacle that everyone in the meet nodded in agreement. Looking through the metallic urn i could not really figure what the people were nodding at, was it my inept failure to go abroad or their own inept failures to go abroad
Hello?
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone at home?
Come on, now,
I hear you're feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain
And get you on your feet again.
Relax.
I need some information first.
Just the basic facts
Can you show me where it hurts?
Sunday, December 25, 2011
The Guffawing Matchmaker- A Short Story
I was unmarried then and the apple of the eyes of every; not would be brides, ofcourse not, but the flock of old, wizened with age matchmakers, who always look at you with a crooked expression, bifocals on their noses, just like a hawk who has spotted its pray. One such hawk was Mrs. M, the widow of Mr. M, who died a few years ago from a not so dreadful disease, influenza. Well, coming back to Mrs. M, unfortunately i was in her good books. She admired my family, and considered me a prized catch for some of the fair girls, the would be brides. She knew that i had a job in one of the big cities, but really did not know what job, our family had few tracts of land in the countryside and most importantly a status which was not marred by unpleasant things like married women eloping with stranger lovers or men losing their fortunes on vices.
She met me at almost all weddings none of which i was keen to attend. Being born a Goan, i would wish to say the weddings are more numerous and you have the phobia of being ostracised from the entire clan if you excuse yourself from attending one. She had a silly habit; at my sight she would abruptly stop all her witty gossip, with the members of her flock, rush towards me, dodging a few stray chairs meant for the guests, make a glance at me always starting from my face unto my feet and from my feet back to my face, extend her arm pointing towards the dias, on which the happy bride and not so happy bridegroom sat side by side chatting away non significant things in each others ears, smiling; guffawing at times. And triumphantly say " I would like to see you there next", and this time she guffawing in a pitch her failing lungs could afford.
So she met me once at funeral of Mr P. the grand patriarch of family P. which was into the business of studio photography. While Mr P. was resting on the floor amidst the smoke and the acrid smell of incense and and the oil lamp, i strided along to corner of the great living room, across to where Mrs. M was standing with her flock, with downcast eyes, sharing her knowledge about what happens to the soul in case it is not cremated by the customary feet facing south. "Hello Mrs. M" i said, disturbing her. After her top-down, down-top glance she offered me, i just extended my arms, pointed towards the dead body of Mr. P and triumphantly said
"I would like to see you there next" and this time i guffawed in a pitch my youthful lungs could afford thereby incurring the wrath of all mourners and espescially Mrs. M who never bothered me again.
She met me at almost all weddings none of which i was keen to attend. Being born a Goan, i would wish to say the weddings are more numerous and you have the phobia of being ostracised from the entire clan if you excuse yourself from attending one. She had a silly habit; at my sight she would abruptly stop all her witty gossip, with the members of her flock, rush towards me, dodging a few stray chairs meant for the guests, make a glance at me always starting from my face unto my feet and from my feet back to my face, extend her arm pointing towards the dias, on which the happy bride and not so happy bridegroom sat side by side chatting away non significant things in each others ears, smiling; guffawing at times. And triumphantly say " I would like to see you there next", and this time she guffawing in a pitch her failing lungs could afford.
So she met me once at funeral of Mr P. the grand patriarch of family P. which was into the business of studio photography. While Mr P. was resting on the floor amidst the smoke and the acrid smell of incense and and the oil lamp, i strided along to corner of the great living room, across to where Mrs. M was standing with her flock, with downcast eyes, sharing her knowledge about what happens to the soul in case it is not cremated by the customary feet facing south. "Hello Mrs. M" i said, disturbing her. After her top-down, down-top glance she offered me, i just extended my arms, pointed towards the dead body of Mr. P and triumphantly said
"I would like to see you there next" and this time i guffawed in a pitch my youthful lungs could afford thereby incurring the wrath of all mourners and espescially Mrs. M who never bothered me again.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
From Bottom to the Top!!
I was enjoying the cold weather of Pune, outside my office with a cup of tea, joined by a new team mate when suddenly the question of my marriage popped up.
" I have recently married" i said.
My team mate A. was a 28 year old. A few months ago he had proposed a girl 4 years younger and was enjoying a blissful committed status. Ofcourse he was a virgin and had a very little taste of womanhood save for the few smooches his girlfreind was allowing him every week.
" How is the sex between you two" he asked me.
" Its great. Why do you ask" i said.
He blushed with the thought.
"Hmmm... well...hmm... i was thinking... no actually my girlfreind...hmmm.. well we wish to have sex but we both are scared to have it. What should i do? That is the reason i want an advice from you."
My mind raced back around two years ago when my beloved and i were in the same shoes. And now here was i, giving advice to my fellow team mate 3 years elder to me, a person who had no idea whatsoever about the act of divinity.
"Why do you wish to have sex so early in your relationship?" i asked.
" Well... actually its my girl friend who wants it. She feels giving me what i desire would make me committed to her" he replied.
"Thats bad... probably she still doubts your fidelty rite?"
"Yes... she does...How do you know?"
Well that put a smile across my face. I knew sex at a time when the girl still has some reservations about her man would just be disastrous.
"I suggest wait for some time. Understand she does not want sex but saying so just out of an obligation to keep you happy and satisfied. Even if you do it, it will hardly give you any pleasure"
"So when should i have it" he asked.
Suddenly my mind raced back again on the day i first had sex with my girl. The previous day was great. Both our parents had met each other over lunch and had consented to our decision to get married.
It was gloomy motel room i was staying in and my sweetheart made an early morning visit and i made my first mistake. With my eyes full of lust i asked her for sex. Unfortunately she consented to it though she was absolutely not ready for it.
Things finished faster than we expected. I had fulfilled my long awaited desire but it appeared as though it was just another session of masturbation. I was tired, sweating and watching my woman's nakedness. She had a disappointed look on her face and my selfishness did not even bother about this because i just could not take my eyes away from her beautiful body.
"How did it feel" i asked her.
"I did not feel a thing except for pain".
Her reply startled me. What a fool i made myself then i thought.
What a fool i was not to think about her while making love. What a shameless, selfish fool was i. When i was basking in the glory of my triumph over her body why did not i think about her. Pleasure!! why should it be a feeling only men deserve why not a woman.
" I have recently married" i said.
My team mate A. was a 28 year old. A few months ago he had proposed a girl 4 years younger and was enjoying a blissful committed status. Ofcourse he was a virgin and had a very little taste of womanhood save for the few smooches his girlfreind was allowing him every week.
" How is the sex between you two" he asked me.
" Its great. Why do you ask" i said.
He blushed with the thought.
"Hmmm... well...hmm... i was thinking... no actually my girlfreind...hmmm.. well we wish to have sex but we both are scared to have it. What should i do? That is the reason i want an advice from you."
My mind raced back around two years ago when my beloved and i were in the same shoes. And now here was i, giving advice to my fellow team mate 3 years elder to me, a person who had no idea whatsoever about the act of divinity.
"Why do you wish to have sex so early in your relationship?" i asked.
" Well... actually its my girl friend who wants it. She feels giving me what i desire would make me committed to her" he replied.
"Thats bad... probably she still doubts your fidelty rite?"
"Yes... she does...How do you know?"
Well that put a smile across my face. I knew sex at a time when the girl still has some reservations about her man would just be disastrous.
"I suggest wait for some time. Understand she does not want sex but saying so just out of an obligation to keep you happy and satisfied. Even if you do it, it will hardly give you any pleasure"
"So when should i have it" he asked.
Suddenly my mind raced back again on the day i first had sex with my girl. The previous day was great. Both our parents had met each other over lunch and had consented to our decision to get married.
It was gloomy motel room i was staying in and my sweetheart made an early morning visit and i made my first mistake. With my eyes full of lust i asked her for sex. Unfortunately she consented to it though she was absolutely not ready for it.
Things finished faster than we expected. I had fulfilled my long awaited desire but it appeared as though it was just another session of masturbation. I was tired, sweating and watching my woman's nakedness. She had a disappointed look on her face and my selfishness did not even bother about this because i just could not take my eyes away from her beautiful body.
"How did it feel" i asked her.
"I did not feel a thing except for pain".
Her reply startled me. What a fool i made myself then i thought.
What a fool i was not to think about her while making love. What a shameless, selfish fool was i. When i was basking in the glory of my triumph over her body why did not i think about her. Pleasure!! why should it be a feeling only men deserve why not a woman.
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Mr.HEATHCLIFF--- The childhood (Part-I)
It was another lazy sunday at my office. Barring a few server alerts (yucks IT industry sucks), i had absolutely nothing which i could call work. Suddenly i decided to check a few assignments that are given to students on course to complete their MA in English Literature. One question did capture my attention though. "Does the character Mr. Heathcliff from Wuthering Hieghts deserve sympathy". That sent my mind racing back to 1995. I was fifth grade. It was the library class and our teacher was distributing books that had to be read during that week. That was when i recieved the children's edition of the classic "Wuthering Hieghts". The second of the three Bronte sisters, Emily was the author and this was her only novel. Recently i had the chance to read it again and it was no child's edition but the original victorian english edition.What beauty the words in it had
Now lets come back to the question of Mr. Heathcliff deserving sympathy. I hated Mr. Heathcliff when i first read the book as a child. After all he encourages Isabelle's infatuations but sadly not being in love with but just as a plan to have revenge with Edgar, Isabelle's brother and Catherine's husband. I should have hated Catherine instead, the very Catherine who was the Heathcliff's shadow during his childhood and the very Catherine who caused all the miseries in Heathcliff's life. Let me voyage into the magical journey of the past to travel to England in the mid 18th century and be in the shoes of Heathcliff. I am a seven year old gypsy orphan and a sympathetic Mr. Earnshaw takes me to his home, the Wuthering Hieghts, only to to cause ire among his children. I have Hindley Earnshaw, Mr. Earnshaw's son who hates me because i have won his fathers affections and i have catherine who is my soul mate, my twin self. One day my patron dies and it is Hindley fresh out of college to take over as the new master of Wuthering Hieghts. I am made the servant of the house and probably treated much worse than a servant. My only saviour and the reason to stay being Cathy, whom i cherish more than my own self. On one such fateful afternoon when we have our adventures go over to Thrushcross Grange and watch the Linton children play only to be reminded my status as the servant of the house when Cathy being caught by the dog is being nursed and i am being humiliated and sent home. Now Cathy is changed she mocks my appearance, i try to dress decently to impress Cathy when Linton's arrive at Wuthering hieghts, i fail to do so and
to add to my miseries i have Edgar Linton, Cathy's new found interest make fun of me. My heart is hurt and i charge at Edgar injuring him. I am brutally locked up in the attic by Hindley and Cathy climbs the roof to comfort me. I vow to revenge Hindley.
Sadly this is the childhood spent by Heathcliff. Probably he would have had a much sweeter childhood if he was left as an orphan. He was shown the high cliff of happiness only to be kicked in the rear in the deep sea of sadness below.
--- To be continued----
Now lets come back to the question of Mr. Heathcliff deserving sympathy. I hated Mr. Heathcliff when i first read the book as a child. After all he encourages Isabelle's infatuations but sadly not being in love with but just as a plan to have revenge with Edgar, Isabelle's brother and Catherine's husband. I should have hated Catherine instead, the very Catherine who was the Heathcliff's shadow during his childhood and the very Catherine who caused all the miseries in Heathcliff's life. Let me voyage into the magical journey of the past to travel to England in the mid 18th century and be in the shoes of Heathcliff. I am a seven year old gypsy orphan and a sympathetic Mr. Earnshaw takes me to his home, the Wuthering Hieghts, only to to cause ire among his children. I have Hindley Earnshaw, Mr. Earnshaw's son who hates me because i have won his fathers affections and i have catherine who is my soul mate, my twin self. One day my patron dies and it is Hindley fresh out of college to take over as the new master of Wuthering Hieghts. I am made the servant of the house and probably treated much worse than a servant. My only saviour and the reason to stay being Cathy, whom i cherish more than my own self. On one such fateful afternoon when we have our adventures go over to Thrushcross Grange and watch the Linton children play only to be reminded my status as the servant of the house when Cathy being caught by the dog is being nursed and i am being humiliated and sent home. Now Cathy is changed she mocks my appearance, i try to dress decently to impress Cathy when Linton's arrive at Wuthering hieghts, i fail to do so and
to add to my miseries i have Edgar Linton, Cathy's new found interest make fun of me. My heart is hurt and i charge at Edgar injuring him. I am brutally locked up in the attic by Hindley and Cathy climbs the roof to comfort me. I vow to revenge Hindley.
Sadly this is the childhood spent by Heathcliff. Probably he would have had a much sweeter childhood if he was left as an orphan. He was shown the high cliff of happiness only to be kicked in the rear in the deep sea of sadness below.
--- To be continued----
Monday, August 09, 2010
Trip
I am just back from a tiring week long trip from Kerala/Goa. Received the much needed break from work.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Another period of tenseness
Just attended a meeting session with my boss and his boss. Thankfully, i had not done anything wrong this time. I was apprehensive because they were extra courteous and polite towards me. Finally they spelled out the doom. The project will be gone in matter of few days and they had no option but to put people on the bench for few days or weeks probably. That came as no surprise. Yes, i was worried but the bosses took extra care about that by praising the excellent work that i did and also the amount of internal vacancies around in the company. I felt sad though, not because i had to leave excellent work (or absolutely no work would be more precise) but because of the nice people that i shared my office space with (and that includes for the first time in my entire career, my boss who was extra nice to everybody). But alas, time and tide waits for nobody and i have to move on. As a parting gift my boss allowed me my long deserved vacation and immediately i had to seek help from Indian Railways for my tickets reservations. Looks like people hate traveling during the rains and hence did not have much trouble for the reservations. I will be traveling to Kerala tomorrow. Comfortably sleeping in my wife's arms for few days after heavy diet of sea food and boiled rice.
Had no work hence i decided to check out our company library but sadly it only had books that had scores of programs which i could never understand (yeah yeah i work in software industry yet i find programs just like a maze of mirrors in a county feast). But my eyes did fall on something interesting. Amitav Ghosh's The Calcutta Chromosome. I finished 50 pages and it felt like wife who had an hour long sex session without an orgasm. I was still unsatisfied. I wanted more out of the maze like situations which the author creates. Finally the place was getting too crowded with girls chattering non-stop on how this months edition of the Chicken Soup for the soul was really swell of a book. "Shut-up ladies", someone is trying to concentrate here i would have liked to say, yet it is non-chivalrous for a grown up man to yell at ladies.
Had no work hence i decided to check out our company library but sadly it only had books that had scores of programs which i could never understand (yeah yeah i work in software industry yet i find programs just like a maze of mirrors in a county feast). But my eyes did fall on something interesting. Amitav Ghosh's The Calcutta Chromosome. I finished 50 pages and it felt like wife who had an hour long sex session without an orgasm. I was still unsatisfied. I wanted more out of the maze like situations which the author creates. Finally the place was getting too crowded with girls chattering non-stop on how this months edition of the Chicken Soup for the soul was really swell of a book. "Shut-up ladies", someone is trying to concentrate here i would have liked to say, yet it is non-chivalrous for a grown up man to yell at ladies.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Rock-a-blog
Had a peaceful sleep save for the 08:00 wake call from my wife. She was in an extra romantic mood, and we exchanged a few passionate kisses (ofcourse throught the airtel network). I felt refreshed aand listened to some nice marathi music by Millind Ingle. The tunes reminded me of B.J Thomas classic "Rain-drops keep falling on my head".
I had to go to work and i shared the cab today with a rock-enthusiast. Long hair, unshaven stubble, ears pierced, wearing a faded black SEPULTURA round neck, he looked as if he came straight out of a brawl.
" You listen to rock music" i casually asked him.
"ya dude... rock is my religion dude..Marilyn manson my god dude... blah blah blah blah... cannibal corpse... dude... again blah blah blah...dude...dude... meshuggah death metal....speed metal... again marilyn Manson Bla blah blah...dude.. dude... "sweet dreams"... f****** so good..dude...blah blah blah"
Patience i told myself as he was yet starting another story on why he thinks Marilyn Manson to be over jesus Christ.
Christ i said to myself.
"Do you listen to led Zappelin" i interrupted.
"Led who? marilyn manson, Sepultura....blah blah blah blah... rock is f**** my religion...dude... blah blah blah..."
"My god please somebody stop this guy" my ears were screaming. I t was as if looking at a child given his first rattle toy.
"Saheb trip sheet var sign kara" interrupted the driver. (sir, sign on the trip sheet) and i was grateful to him. This was the only time Mr Dude Marilyn Bigfan had his mouth shut.
"You listen to rock music" it was his turn now.
No i dont i wanted to yell out. I do not listen to Bob Dylan, janis Joplin, Syd Barrett, beatles, Neil Diamond et company nor do i listen to Deep Purple, Doors or Elvis Presley, i wished to yell. God it was like telling a bald man to use a hair straightener.
" No" i said politely. "I only listen to hindi romantic songs".
He made an awful face. If the expressions could speak it would surely be " God put some sense unto him. make him listen to rock ... marilyn Manson... blah blah blah... DUDE"
For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.
Daniel (ch. XII, v. 4)
I had to go to work and i shared the cab today with a rock-enthusiast. Long hair, unshaven stubble, ears pierced, wearing a faded black SEPULTURA round neck, he looked as if he came straight out of a brawl.
" You listen to rock music" i casually asked him.
"ya dude... rock is my religion dude..Marilyn manson my god dude... blah blah blah blah... cannibal corpse... dude... again blah blah blah...dude...dude... meshuggah death metal....speed metal... again marilyn Manson Bla blah blah...dude.. dude... "sweet dreams"... f****** so good..dude...blah blah blah"
Patience i told myself as he was yet starting another story on why he thinks Marilyn Manson to be over jesus Christ.
Christ i said to myself.
"Do you listen to led Zappelin" i interrupted.
"Led who? marilyn manson, Sepultura....blah blah blah blah... rock is f**** my religion...dude... blah blah blah..."
"My god please somebody stop this guy" my ears were screaming. I t was as if looking at a child given his first rattle toy.
"Saheb trip sheet var sign kara" interrupted the driver. (sir, sign on the trip sheet) and i was grateful to him. This was the only time Mr Dude Marilyn Bigfan had his mouth shut.
"You listen to rock music" it was his turn now.
No i dont i wanted to yell out. I do not listen to Bob Dylan, janis Joplin, Syd Barrett, beatles, Neil Diamond et company nor do i listen to Deep Purple, Doors or Elvis Presley, i wished to yell. God it was like telling a bald man to use a hair straightener.
" No" i said politely. "I only listen to hindi romantic songs".
He made an awful face. If the expressions could speak it would surely be " God put some sense unto him. make him listen to rock ... marilyn Manson... blah blah blah... DUDE"
For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.
Daniel (ch. XII, v. 4)
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Drizzle
Again the the rain clouds gather, again the memories gather,
All our rains, still drain through my heart,
again the rains so wet, again the rains bring us together,
all her fond memories, rains bring back to me,
again the rains hear a lot, again the rains speak a lot,
yet it only listens to all her talks and not mine,
yet i tell the rains, yet i speak to rains,
for all our fond memories again, i ask the rains.
(Translated from the Marathi Song Gaarva by Soumitra)
All our rains, still drain through my heart,
again the rains so wet, again the rains bring us together,
all her fond memories, rains bring back to me,
again the rains hear a lot, again the rains speak a lot,
yet it only listens to all her talks and not mine,
yet i tell the rains, yet i speak to rains,
for all our fond memories again, i ask the rains.
(Translated from the Marathi Song Gaarva by Soumitra)
The story of an Indian Devdasi
Indians are proud about their culture. The following is a story of an unfortunate Indian which makes you think about how "glorious" our culture is.
"One night, when I was about 11, the Hindu goddess Yellamma came to my mother in a dream. When she told the local priest about her vision, he insisted that it was a sign from the goddess that she must devote me as a Devadasi in return for my sister, who left the system a few years earlier after marrying one of her 'patrons.' He warned her that if I wasn't initiated then my brother would be punished by the goddess. So it was decided that I would be sacrificed in her place.
“The Devadasi dedication ceremony is very much like a traditional Hindu wedding, but without any husband. The whole community gathered together and I was bought elaborate dresses, gold necklaces, jewels, silver toe rings, and all the other symbols of marriage. I was only a child and didn't understand the significance of what was happening. I just felt happy to be the center of attention, and to be wearing a real sari for the first time. I was becoming a woman. I remember my sister and brother being incredibly upset about what was going on. They kept fighting with my mother, saying 'What about her studies? Why do you want to ruin her life?' But to me it was the most exciting day of my life.
“After the initiation ceremony life went back to normal for about a year and a half, living at home and attending school as normal. I know now that the community were waiting for me to reach puberty. Then one morning, when I was around 13, a male employee of a local hospital offered my mother Rs. 500 (£6) in exchange for my virginity. It is traditional for a Devadasi's mother or grandmother to arrange their sexual partners, and so it was my own mother that sent me that night to the dark X-ray room at the hospital, to be sexually abused by a complete stranger. I had no idea what was happening to me, but I was terrified. A marriage is supposed to be a moment of pride, of celebration, but for me it was a crude business exchange. Even after all these years, the memory of that night brings me to tears.
“The next encounter was with my sister's own husband, who had invested some money in my expensive dedication ceremony. According to tradition, the Devadasi's patron is always entitled to some return on his investment, so as soon as he found out that the first abuse had happened he started pestering my sister saying, 'Now I want to use this girl, I want her to come to me.' He said that if she didn't make it happen then he would leave her, and began simultaneously bribing my mother with small amounts of money each week.
“Finally it was arranged, without my consent, that I would stay with my sister and her husband every weekend between Friday and Sunday, during which time I would be used by him at his will. During the week I was still attending school and living at home, but as soon as Friday drew near I would begin to feel sick with dread, visualising my attacker and what was going to happen to me. It was like living in hell. The abuse continued for almost five years, during which time became pregnant and carried two of his children – a boy and a girl.
"One night, when I was about 11, the Hindu goddess Yellamma came to my mother in a dream. When she told the local priest about her vision, he insisted that it was a sign from the goddess that she must devote me as a Devadasi in return for my sister, who left the system a few years earlier after marrying one of her 'patrons.' He warned her that if I wasn't initiated then my brother would be punished by the goddess. So it was decided that I would be sacrificed in her place.
“The Devadasi dedication ceremony is very much like a traditional Hindu wedding, but without any husband. The whole community gathered together and I was bought elaborate dresses, gold necklaces, jewels, silver toe rings, and all the other symbols of marriage. I was only a child and didn't understand the significance of what was happening. I just felt happy to be the center of attention, and to be wearing a real sari for the first time. I was becoming a woman. I remember my sister and brother being incredibly upset about what was going on. They kept fighting with my mother, saying 'What about her studies? Why do you want to ruin her life?' But to me it was the most exciting day of my life.
“After the initiation ceremony life went back to normal for about a year and a half, living at home and attending school as normal. I know now that the community were waiting for me to reach puberty. Then one morning, when I was around 13, a male employee of a local hospital offered my mother Rs. 500 (£6) in exchange for my virginity. It is traditional for a Devadasi's mother or grandmother to arrange their sexual partners, and so it was my own mother that sent me that night to the dark X-ray room at the hospital, to be sexually abused by a complete stranger. I had no idea what was happening to me, but I was terrified. A marriage is supposed to be a moment of pride, of celebration, but for me it was a crude business exchange. Even after all these years, the memory of that night brings me to tears.
“The next encounter was with my sister's own husband, who had invested some money in my expensive dedication ceremony. According to tradition, the Devadasi's patron is always entitled to some return on his investment, so as soon as he found out that the first abuse had happened he started pestering my sister saying, 'Now I want to use this girl, I want her to come to me.' He said that if she didn't make it happen then he would leave her, and began simultaneously bribing my mother with small amounts of money each week.
“Finally it was arranged, without my consent, that I would stay with my sister and her husband every weekend between Friday and Sunday, during which time I would be used by him at his will. During the week I was still attending school and living at home, but as soon as Friday drew near I would begin to feel sick with dread, visualising my attacker and what was going to happen to me. It was like living in hell. The abuse continued for almost five years, during which time became pregnant and carried two of his children – a boy and a girl.
Visions!!
Drenched again in rains is our very own Pune. Ofcourse welcome respite from the public water works dept. They had threatened the whole city of a Water Shutdown if the dams were not filled up. Great, now they dont have to do it and that ensures steady supply of water to everyone.
Had mixed emotions during the weekend. Following the rains had to cancel out outings on sunday. Felt bad for that but had no option, i was already suffering from a throat infection and did not wish to aggravate it any further. Tried making onion pakoras at home but at the last minute realised there was little besan left in the kitchen. Hence just put whatever besan we had into the bowl of chopped onions and just tried to fry the whole thing. It turned out to be some kind of besan bhurji and it wasnt bad. I thought it still tested wonderful and probably was happy to put another recipe to the indian cookbook. Christened it as veg-bhurji. They call it experimental cooking.
Had an extremely boring time with Moll Flanders, she returns back to London only to look for another gentleman who can keep her as a mistress. And she succeeds. If Moll were to be born in India she would surely had got a nickname "THURKI-aunty". But ofcourse its England.
Tried watching the film 3 idiots. Someone had said in has some parallels with Five Point Someone. Inspired from the book yes, we can say that. Sadly Aamir Khan does not remotely appear to be a college going kid or a supergenius. But ofcourse its the biggest hit of the year.
Well mom had called up. In my engineering college days, she always asked me when will would i get placed. Once placed she always asked me when i would switch from a BPO to IT industry. Once in the IT industry when would i be relocated to Pune. Now i am in Pune when will the time come when i will be sent onsite to UK,US or Singapore. My mom has this shitty habit of not being straight forward but will beat around the bush till the person understands what she wants to say. This time it took her 2 stories of some distant relatives who are in Singapore (for Mom ofcourse Singapore is the same as Shani-Signapore)before she made me me realise ..oh what a great sin it was to be a software engineer and still remain in India. Ofcourse though she isnt among the brightest minds on this earth yet she has a lot of brilliant people in her family tree. People who will teach Einstein the Theory of Relativity and will give the idea of Atomic Model to John Dalton. Latest is to brag about children going abroad to fulfill the onsite requirements. Mom does not wish to be left behind ofcourse.
Had a wonderful discussion with my better half. Are the girls who frequently sleeps with men before marriege justified in doing so? She always believed no they arent justified but here again i was a fence sitter. I said fine in my personal opinion i would not want a girl to do that but again if someone does it, its their f@#$%^& life.
Match set:
Point 1 Wife: No love and sexual intercourse are divine acts of nature and everybody should respect the laws of nature.
Counter Point Husband: But who has defined the laws of nature. Darwin hasnt and so its not a rule to sleep with one person all your life.
Point2 Wife: You have to respect the institution of marriege and commitment. Sleeping with more than a single partner is an act of adultery.
Counterpoint 2 husband: but should nt it be agreeable if the girl has not married or given a commitment.
Point 3 Wife: That means you support all this and if tomorrow you get a chance you will sleep with women rite???
Counterpoint 3 Husband: Husband speechless. trying hard to think of words that would say " My dear wife, i was yours, i am yours and will be yours in my body, soul and after life.
Husband loses the battle. Wife grins. Husband's ego is hurt. Wife finally says " i love you you my sweetheart. Husband angry with hurt ego.. musters courage and finally says...." i love you too my sweetheart".
Had mixed emotions during the weekend. Following the rains had to cancel out outings on sunday. Felt bad for that but had no option, i was already suffering from a throat infection and did not wish to aggravate it any further. Tried making onion pakoras at home but at the last minute realised there was little besan left in the kitchen. Hence just put whatever besan we had into the bowl of chopped onions and just tried to fry the whole thing. It turned out to be some kind of besan bhurji and it wasnt bad. I thought it still tested wonderful and probably was happy to put another recipe to the indian cookbook. Christened it as veg-bhurji. They call it experimental cooking.
Had an extremely boring time with Moll Flanders, she returns back to London only to look for another gentleman who can keep her as a mistress. And she succeeds. If Moll were to be born in India she would surely had got a nickname "THURKI-aunty". But ofcourse its England.
Tried watching the film 3 idiots. Someone had said in has some parallels with Five Point Someone. Inspired from the book yes, we can say that. Sadly Aamir Khan does not remotely appear to be a college going kid or a supergenius. But ofcourse its the biggest hit of the year.
Well mom had called up. In my engineering college days, she always asked me when will would i get placed. Once placed she always asked me when i would switch from a BPO to IT industry. Once in the IT industry when would i be relocated to Pune. Now i am in Pune when will the time come when i will be sent onsite to UK,US or Singapore. My mom has this shitty habit of not being straight forward but will beat around the bush till the person understands what she wants to say. This time it took her 2 stories of some distant relatives who are in Singapore (for Mom ofcourse Singapore is the same as Shani-Signapore)before she made me me realise ..oh what a great sin it was to be a software engineer and still remain in India. Ofcourse though she isnt among the brightest minds on this earth yet she has a lot of brilliant people in her family tree. People who will teach Einstein the Theory of Relativity and will give the idea of Atomic Model to John Dalton. Latest is to brag about children going abroad to fulfill the onsite requirements. Mom does not wish to be left behind ofcourse.
Had a wonderful discussion with my better half. Are the girls who frequently sleeps with men before marriege justified in doing so? She always believed no they arent justified but here again i was a fence sitter. I said fine in my personal opinion i would not want a girl to do that but again if someone does it, its their f@#$%^& life.
Match set:
Point 1 Wife: No love and sexual intercourse are divine acts of nature and everybody should respect the laws of nature.
Counter Point Husband: But who has defined the laws of nature. Darwin hasnt and so its not a rule to sleep with one person all your life.
Point2 Wife: You have to respect the institution of marriege and commitment. Sleeping with more than a single partner is an act of adultery.
Counterpoint 2 husband: but should nt it be agreeable if the girl has not married or given a commitment.
Point 3 Wife: That means you support all this and if tomorrow you get a chance you will sleep with women rite???
Counterpoint 3 Husband: Husband speechless. trying hard to think of words that would say " My dear wife, i was yours, i am yours and will be yours in my body, soul and after life.
Husband loses the battle. Wife grins. Husband's ego is hurt. Wife finally says " i love you you my sweetheart. Husband angry with hurt ego.. musters courage and finally says...." i love you too my sweetheart".
Saturday, July 24, 2010
BLUES!!
Pune was drenched in rain today. The rains started early morning and have no idea when it would stop. Took part in a funny internet poll... "who is Bollywood's ugliest actress". The contestents(unfortunately) were Vidya Balan, Kim Sharma, Rimi Sen, Kangana Renaut & Malaika Arora. Well i chose Kim Sharma, but i was conspicuous by the absence of Deepika Padukone's name in the list. Well most people voted Kangana.
I had office today it was same weekend shit. You work less and enjoy your time at work. I have just got my trading account activated and probably will execute my first trade on tuesday. Still thinking on which company share will actually inaugrate my portfolio. Someone suggested Pantaloon Retail while the other said vijaya bank. Finally zeroed in on Vijaya Bank. Lets see what happens.
Was reading some mythology and it was the story of Vishwamitra and Maneka which set my heart racing. After all why not their grandson is the person after whom our country has been named. Also remembered a small incident that i shared with my father in law in Kerala. I was leaving Kannur (thats were my in-laws and my wife reside)and Mr. P ( my da-in-law) was accompanying me to the railway station in a auto-rickshaw. There is one dirty thing in otherwise clean surroundings in Kerala i would like to mention, the walls in the city are all covered with film posters (and ofcourse a small group of men around admiring the scene portrayed). It will have a hero (who ofcourse resembles like a fat,fiftish something rich politician we have back in Goa)with a heroine which will make you feel as if the film is about an incestual relationship between a father-daughter, which isnt ofcourse. Ofcourse the heroine will wear a top which in civilised world would be equivalent of a bra, displaying her larger than life (i mean it) cleavage and lot of flab around her waste, in short;my mom would flip out looking at, looking at the camera in a manner befitting a porn star who just has performed fellatio on her man. It makes hard for people like me who practice chastity not look at such posters (but ofcourse with lot patience now i have conquered this terrible affliction). Back to the auto rickshaw, my da in law suddenly oblivious of everything around him proudly says "We people kerala..." loss at words... "we people in kerala"... loss at words again..."are very conservative people" and he was beaming with pride. "yes, you are" i said.
I probably guess he was commenting on the liberal attitude of the Goans. Hard truth, Mr Proud you arent conservative people, you are plainly male chauvinists. You are only conservative at home with your wives and daughters but otherwise ......no words to say.
I had office today it was same weekend shit. You work less and enjoy your time at work. I have just got my trading account activated and probably will execute my first trade on tuesday. Still thinking on which company share will actually inaugrate my portfolio. Someone suggested Pantaloon Retail while the other said vijaya bank. Finally zeroed in on Vijaya Bank. Lets see what happens.
Was reading some mythology and it was the story of Vishwamitra and Maneka which set my heart racing. After all why not their grandson is the person after whom our country has been named. Also remembered a small incident that i shared with my father in law in Kerala. I was leaving Kannur (thats were my in-laws and my wife reside)and Mr. P ( my da-in-law) was accompanying me to the railway station in a auto-rickshaw. There is one dirty thing in otherwise clean surroundings in Kerala i would like to mention, the walls in the city are all covered with film posters (and ofcourse a small group of men around admiring the scene portrayed). It will have a hero (who ofcourse resembles like a fat,fiftish something rich politician we have back in Goa)with a heroine which will make you feel as if the film is about an incestual relationship between a father-daughter, which isnt ofcourse. Ofcourse the heroine will wear a top which in civilised world would be equivalent of a bra, displaying her larger than life (i mean it) cleavage and lot of flab around her waste, in short;my mom would flip out looking at, looking at the camera in a manner befitting a porn star who just has performed fellatio on her man. It makes hard for people like me who practice chastity not look at such posters (but ofcourse with lot patience now i have conquered this terrible affliction). Back to the auto rickshaw, my da in law suddenly oblivious of everything around him proudly says "We people kerala..." loss at words... "we people in kerala"... loss at words again..."are very conservative people" and he was beaming with pride. "yes, you are" i said.
I probably guess he was commenting on the liberal attitude of the Goans. Hard truth, Mr Proud you arent conservative people, you are plainly male chauvinists. You are only conservative at home with your wives and daughters but otherwise ......no words to say.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Changed the hello tune
It seems my mom does not like Bob Dylan or his "Tambourine Man". Everytime she called me she always complained about the "wierd" hello tune. She felt the sound was similar to the howling of dogs at night. So much for Mr. Dylan the greatest song writer of the century but well "i may be a software engineer, but i gotta serve somebody" (its my mom in this case). I decided to change the hello tune.
Then came the painful task of choosing which genre to select. Should it be something from classic rock or a romantic ballad (to keep my wife happy ofcourse) or a hindi bhule bisre geet (B&W classics). Hmm why not something from our dear own Goa. A konkani khatar ofcourse. The first name that stuck me was Chris Perry and luckily on the airtel website i did find the melodious song "Bandra Festak". Wow and it was a treat to hear the great song from the master of Lorna "the nightingale of Goa, Chris Perry.
This is how the lyrics of the song go.
Bandra festak gelom hanv tea nimnnea Aitara
Ferien bonvtam-bonvtam horam zait ailim bara
Chonnekaram mhunnot ‘Bab gorom chonnem vora’
Chonnem khavnk urlom thuimsor pavlonam ghara
Chorus
Ha! Ha! Vah, vah, vah – lok ferien bonvta
Chevrisam sorpotel, sogllem thuimsor mevta
Merry-Go-Round-ar, chedde-cheddvam gunvta
Luttin kitem poitai, konnui konnak tenkta
Ha! Ha! Vah, vah, vah – lok ferien bonvta
Chevrisam sorpotel, sogllem thuimsor mevta
Merry-Go-Round-ar, chedde-cheddvam gunvta
Luttin kitem poitai, konnui konnak tenkta
II
Giant Wheel-ar bostolom mhunnon ticket kaddli
Moje kuxik tannen eke anttik dhaddli
Voir pavonam fuddem antti fugar zavn roddli
‘Oh my God’ mhunnon tinnen veng mhaka marli
Chorus
Ha, ha! ‘My God, my God’, antti suskar soddi
Uncle sokol, khonti-uske kaddi
Beautiful lady, asli itki saddi
Uddki marit mhunn, hanven ghott dhorli saddi
Ha, ha! ‘My God, my God’, antti suskar soddi
Uncle sokol, khonti-uske kaddi
Beautiful lady, asli itki saddi
Uddki marit mhunn, hanven ghott dhorli saddi
III
Matxe mukar, ring uddonvchem stall dislem
Tea stall-an tim ring-am divnk, sobit cheddum aslem
Kensanchem mountain kelelem mojem sintid thoim urlem
Ring uddoilelem tachea mountain-ar poddlem
Chorus
Yeah, yeah! ‘Lucky fellow’ mhunn bobav lokacho
Har ghalun fulancho, fottu kaddlo amcho
Ugddass vechonam Montichea festacho
Chear anneank hanv mog jiklom Bandrachea cheddvacho
Chorus
Yeah, yeah! ‘Lucky fellow’ mhunn bobav lokacho
Har ghalun fulancho, fottu kaddlo amcho
Ugddass vechonam Montichea festacho
Chear anneank hanv mog jiklom Bandrachea cheddvacho
Then came the painful task of choosing which genre to select. Should it be something from classic rock or a romantic ballad (to keep my wife happy ofcourse) or a hindi bhule bisre geet (B&W classics). Hmm why not something from our dear own Goa. A konkani khatar ofcourse. The first name that stuck me was Chris Perry and luckily on the airtel website i did find the melodious song "Bandra Festak". Wow and it was a treat to hear the great song from the master of Lorna "the nightingale of Goa, Chris Perry.
This is how the lyrics of the song go.
Bandra festak gelom hanv tea nimnnea Aitara
Ferien bonvtam-bonvtam horam zait ailim bara
Chonnekaram mhunnot ‘Bab gorom chonnem vora’
Chonnem khavnk urlom thuimsor pavlonam ghara
Chorus
Ha! Ha! Vah, vah, vah – lok ferien bonvta
Chevrisam sorpotel, sogllem thuimsor mevta
Merry-Go-Round-ar, chedde-cheddvam gunvta
Luttin kitem poitai, konnui konnak tenkta
Ha! Ha! Vah, vah, vah – lok ferien bonvta
Chevrisam sorpotel, sogllem thuimsor mevta
Merry-Go-Round-ar, chedde-cheddvam gunvta
Luttin kitem poitai, konnui konnak tenkta
II
Giant Wheel-ar bostolom mhunnon ticket kaddli
Moje kuxik tannen eke anttik dhaddli
Voir pavonam fuddem antti fugar zavn roddli
‘Oh my God’ mhunnon tinnen veng mhaka marli
Chorus
Ha, ha! ‘My God, my God’, antti suskar soddi
Uncle sokol, khonti-uske kaddi
Beautiful lady, asli itki saddi
Uddki marit mhunn, hanven ghott dhorli saddi
Ha, ha! ‘My God, my God’, antti suskar soddi
Uncle sokol, khonti-uske kaddi
Beautiful lady, asli itki saddi
Uddki marit mhunn, hanven ghott dhorli saddi
III
Matxe mukar, ring uddonvchem stall dislem
Tea stall-an tim ring-am divnk, sobit cheddum aslem
Kensanchem mountain kelelem mojem sintid thoim urlem
Ring uddoilelem tachea mountain-ar poddlem
Chorus
Yeah, yeah! ‘Lucky fellow’ mhunn bobav lokacho
Har ghalun fulancho, fottu kaddlo amcho
Ugddass vechonam Montichea festacho
Chear anneank hanv mog jiklom Bandrachea cheddvacho
Chorus
Yeah, yeah! ‘Lucky fellow’ mhunn bobav lokacho
Har ghalun fulancho, fottu kaddlo amcho
Ugddass vechonam Montichea festacho
Chear anneank hanv mog jiklom Bandrachea cheddvacho
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Kahlil Gibran
Kahlil Gibran was a lebanese artist-author-poet during the turn of the last century. Known for his writings on spiritual romance. Below are some of his magnificient quotes.
A little knowledge that acts is worth infinitely more than much knowledge that is idle.
All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind
And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation. (one of my favorites)
Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.
Exaggeration is truth that has lost its temper.
Love and doubt have never been on speaking terms.
Of life's two chief prizes, beauty and truth, I found the first in a loving heart and the second in a laborer's hand.
You may tie my hands with chains and my feet with shackles, and put me in the dark prison, but you shall not enslave my thinking, for it is free, like the breeze in the spacious sky."
LONG LIVE KAHLIL GIBRAN!!!!!
A little knowledge that acts is worth infinitely more than much knowledge that is idle.
All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind
And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation. (one of my favorites)
Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.
Exaggeration is truth that has lost its temper.
Love and doubt have never been on speaking terms.
Of life's two chief prizes, beauty and truth, I found the first in a loving heart and the second in a laborer's hand.
You may tie my hands with chains and my feet with shackles, and put me in the dark prison, but you shall not enslave my thinking, for it is free, like the breeze in the spacious sky."
LONG LIVE KAHLIL GIBRAN!!!!!
Masterworks of Mario Miranda
Ferry across the Zuari river.
Swaying palms and guitars playing; games on the sand; pretty Senhorinas and gay ‘Cavalheiros’, dancing under the stars.
A wedding of fisherfolk.
A Goa village market is all noise and bustle, scents and smells, a strange mixture of fish and flowers. Buxom, garrulous fisherwomen, with sweet-smelling zaios adorning their hair, are busy enticing wily customers to buy their delicious river fish.
Swaying palms and guitars playing; games on the sand; pretty Senhorinas and gay ‘Cavalheiros’, dancing under the stars.
A wedding of fisherfolk.
A Goa village market is all noise and bustle, scents and smells, a strange mixture of fish and flowers. Buxom, garrulous fisherwomen, with sweet-smelling zaios adorning their hair, are busy enticing wily customers to buy their delicious river fish.
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