Miss you Miss Fonseca

“Be gentle and sympathetic to me today Miss Fonseca … I’ve just paid my taxes”

So was born Miss Fonseca the sexy and the buxom secretary to a temperamental boss. Probably the best creation of  Mario João Carlos do Rosario de Brito Miranda affectionately known to the world as Mario Miranda or simply Mario. Mario was born on 2 May 1926 in Daman, the erstwhile Portuguese colony, to devout Goan Catholic Parents of Saraswat Brahmin origin. His ancestral surname was Sardessai before being converted to Christianity in the 18th century and the Miranda’s had a ancestral house in the picturesque village of Loutulim in Goa which was featured in Shyam Benegal’s cult classic Trikaal.

As Mario remembers the blank book his mother gave him to stop him from sketching on the house walls and he fondly calls it his “Diary”. His early cartoons displayed a penchant for the Goan life with sketches of “Carriera” (Public Buses in Goa during the Portuguese time), “Tavernas” , “Busqabeatas”(The gossiping spinster), the awestruck pig carried on a horizontal pole to be roasted for the Fest, Mestre Santana and his choir, Babali Borcar the barber with a cynical expression and the ofcourse the Goan Fish market with the bosomy “kharvins”(Fish-sellers).

Mario had no formal training in art. Though he tried architecture at one point in his life but lost interest every soon. He joined architecture just to please his parents.

My early memories of Mario started with an decrepit copy of “Mario’s Goa” published in 1965 that I had in my home. I remember watching the blue shirted gentle man sketching a cartoon on beachside in Goa in the iconic Doordarshan song “Mile Sur Mera Tumhara “ and my father saying “That’s Mario, Mario Miranda”. Little did I understand the significance yet after I grew up and saw his cartoons on Economic Times I understood the talent. That’s where my love for Miss Fonseca began.

Mr Miranda recalls about Miss Foseca , "People thought I made Ms Fonseca too buxom”and I loved the sexy Miss Foseca clad always in her black dress with white polka dots.

In his life time came a lot of recognition. He was awarded the PadmaShri in 1988, the Padma Bhushan in 2002 and All India Cartoonists's Association, Bangalore, honoured him with a lifetime achievement award.The King of Spain, Juan Carlos, conferred on Mario the highest civilian honour of "la Cruz de Isabel la Catolica’ which was presented to him on 11/11/2009 at his family home in Loutulim by Don Miguel Nieto Sandoval and on 29/12/2009 Portugal, under the President of the Republic Aníbal António Cavaco Silva, made him "Comendador da Ordem de Infante D.Henrique", a Portuguese National Order of Knighthood. Mario Miranda was posthumously awarded the Padma Vibhushan, the second highest civilian award in the Republic of India, by the President on 4 April 2012.

Finally the time came when we had to bid adieu to this great gentleman. On 11 December 2011, Mario Miranda died of natural causes at his home in Loutolim. With his great murals drawn on lot of Goan Buildings including the great mural on Konkan Railway Station in Margoa and also one of personal favourite the mural drawn on the entrance of Wipro at the Electronic City campus in Bangalore, his memories would still remain forever in my heart.

“A cast of characters who could be counted on to raise a smile and make a tiresome day at work a little less tedious. Mario Miranda's strip on the office had a stellar run in The Economic Times. It was one of the first attempts made by a serious business paper to have a more light-hearted take on the workplace and the strange assortment of characters who populated it.”

Anna and the Indian Tea Syndrome

The Need: Sakharam awakes and needs a Tea to awake himself. He shouts at his wife to make Tea.

The Need (Parallelism)  : India awakes and feels the need to wipe out corruption. Anna volunteers to be every Indian’s wife.

Requirements:
½ Cup Water
½ Cup Milk
2 teaspoons sugar
1 teaspoon Tea Powder (The cheap Assam CTC would do as Darjeeling Tea might be too expensive).
1 Stove
1 Utensil
Sakharam’s wife.

Requirements (Parallelism):
1 Anna Hazare
1 Lokpal Bill Draft (Which Anna thinks as a highly potent weapon against corruption).
1 Kiran Bedi (Distinguished to be first woman IPS officer)
1 Arvind Khejriwal (Never had heard about him before. Supposed to be a RTI Activist)
Angry Indian Citizens (who drive vehicles without liscenses, go to colleges on donations etc etc)

How to Make it:

Place the utensil over the stove with the mixture milk and water. Add sugar and tea powder. Once it comes to a boil lift up the utensil from the flame. Let the boil subside before placing it on the flame to boil again. Serve it hot to Sakharam.

How to Make it (Parallelism): 

Anna Hazare goes on a hunger strike to fight corruption. His weapon The Lokpal which he believes would wipe out corruption from India. The Lokpal appears as strong or as weak as the Constitution of India drafted by B. R Ambedkar decades ago. The movement gains momentum as the Angry Indians (That includes a beautiful moll to an arrested gangster)  join it signing petitions, wearing I am Anna caps, lighting candles etc. Media endorses it. Pandurang the Traffice Police man stops taking bribes from offenders. The govt. seems shaky. Its dilemna how should it quiet the agitators and its corrupt politicians at the same time. Couple it with fiery speeches that make the Angry Indians all the more angry. Finally he calls quits and the anger of the Angry Indians die down as they go on with their day to day activities that includes bribibg the traffic cop, bribing the passport officers, bribing everyone they could bribe.


The Effects: 


Sakharam is content drinking his morning tea. He smiles at his wife. Goes to work. Now even if he is served with another cup of tea an hour later he would politely decline and wait for the evening to set in for his next cup of tea.


The Effects (Parallelism):


The angry Indians are content with the show expect phenomenal changes to happen. Well nothing happens save for the ruling party losing few seats in leglislative elections, a few standing comitte meetings, reviews, drafting of an impotent bill that his still 'hung'in the leglislature. Anna calls for another protest this time very few Angry Indians have the time, media is tired and only one saffron clad, long haired and tax evading Godman endorses it all confident that all black money in the foreign banks would turn white with it. Life is normal again. Scams resurface and drown like frolicking dolphin in a sea and Pandurang the traffice policeman is back to taking bribes from offenders. 


INDIA STILL REMAINS INDIA AND WILL CONTINUE TO REMAIN INDIA.

The Lady in Red

At the place of my daily work,
we have a fear in the air it lurks.
For we have amongst us a lady in red,
who may turn the world upside down when mad,
her heart is as white as light she sayeths,
but for heavens her bag is full of secrets.
Walks upright and to everyone she smiles,
makes her appear a little too insidious and guile.
Rumours link her to everyone so she says,
upset and insipid makes for her days.
Yet her presence we feel not leave us ever after,
for in the sweetness of her friendship there be a lot of laughter.

The Heroine to Sold Innocence

“In 1986, when I was sold to a brothel as a prostitute, I was about sixteen

years old. Today there are many far younger prostitutes in Cambodia. There

are virgins for sale in every large town, and to ensure their virginity, the girls

are sometimes as young as five or six.

In Cambodia, and throughout Southeast Asia, tens of thousands of minor

children are forced into prostitution annually. They are raped and beaten,

often for years. Many are killed.”

Born to a tribal minority family in the Mondulkiri province of Cambodia, Somaly Mam began life in extreme poverty. With no options as a severely marginalized ethnic group, of Phnong hill tribe she lived in utter despair as her family often resorted to desperate means to survive. The confluence of dire circumstances led to the unspeakable horrors that would mark Somaly's childhood. Somaly was sold into sexual slavery by a man who posed as her grandfather. The passing of time and the unreliability of a wounded memory, Somaly still does not know who this man was to her. The actions set her on an unimaginable path fraught with danger, desperation, and ultimately triumph and thousand smiles.

Forced to work in a brothel along with others mostlychildren, Somaly was brutally tortured and raped on a daily basis. One night, she was made to watch as her best friend was viciously murdered. Fearing she would meet that same fate, Somaly heroically escaped her captors and set about building a new life for herself. She vowed never to forget those left behind and has since dedicated her life to saving victims and empowering survivors.

“What you have learned from experience is worth much more than gold. If you have a house it may burn down. Any kind of possession can be lost, but your experience is yours forever. Keep it and find a way to use it.”

In 1996, Somaly established a Cambodian non-governmental organization called AFESIP (Agir Pour les Femmes en Situation Precaire). Under fiercely courageous leadership of Somaly, AFESIP employs a holistic approach that ensures victims not only escape their plight, but have the emotional and economic strength to face the future with hope. With the launch of the Somaly Mam Foundation in 2007, Somaly has established a funding vehicle to support anti-trafficking organizations and to provide victims and survivors with a platform from which their voices can be heard around the world.

For her tireless efforts, Somaly has justifiably has world-wide respect and is now a renowned leader at the forefront of the anti-trafficking struggle. Universally recognized as a visionary for her courage, dignity, ingenuity, and resilience, Somaly was honored as one of Time Magazine's 100 Most Influential People of 2009 and was featured as a CNN Hero. She is also the recipient of the Prince of Asturias Award for International Cooperation, The World's Children's Prize for the Rights of the Child (WCPRC), Glamour Magazine's 2006 Woman of the Year Award, and has won accolades from the US Department of Homeland Security.

But Somaly's success has come at a price. She and her family have faced terrifying death threats and violence. Asked why she continues to fight in the face of such fierce and frightening opposition, Somaly resolutely responds, "I don't want to go without leaving a trace."

 “I strongly believe that love is the answer and that it can mend even the deepest unseen wounds. Love can heal, love can console, love can strengthen, and yes, love can make change.”

Despite the fact that she is known the world over and has certainly earned a life of luxury, Somaly continues to work hard in the Cambodian recovery centres, living among the women and children she rescues and staying by their side as they walk the difficult path to recovery and freedom.

Envisioning a world where Women and Children are safe from slavery you can find more information at

http://www.somaly.org/

Poonam Pandey diagnosed with a rare condition

Leading psychiatrist Dr. Ghunghunwala and his team of doctors have found out the reason why Poonam Pandey wishes to strip. They say she is suffereing froma rare psychiatric condition known as Vesti-phobia. Dr. Ghunghunwala has rubbished the claims of certain individuals that Poonam Pandey does this for publicity. Vestiphobia is defined as  an overwhelming, irrational fear of clothing. The vestiphobic individual wishes to be free of any form of clothing. Individuals coping with Vestiphobia may insist on not wearing any clothing or in extreme cases, may withdraw from society completely in order to avoid being clothed.

This explains her constant need to strip every time something that makes a news like the Indian Cricket Team winning a World Cup, Kolkata Knight Riders winning an IPL and her latest claim about stripping inorder to support Team Anna and the passing of Lokpall Bill.

The treatment to this as Dr. Ghunghunwala explains would be Exposure Therapy wherein she would be 'exposed' to frightening situations including having a meal with a dalit family along Rahul Gandhi, Digvijay Singh's anti-RSS rantings and several others which the doctor does not wish to specify.

"With time we would help Poonam get rid of this terrible affliction" says Dr. Ghunguhunwala.

This promise has disheartened a lot of Poonam Pandey fans who have not switched off their television sets since Kolkata Knight Riders have won their maiden IPL trophy so that they might not miss Poonam's strip show.
Already irritated with watching Ek aur... south indian dubbed hindi films on Set Max, this claim by the leading psychiatrist has come as a shocker.

(This article was originally intended to be publishes at fakingnews.com)

`The April Fool-ish

Daisy remembers her husband Richard today on April 1st 2012 and the prank he played 2 years ago on the same day. She feels a need for revenge and thinks over it. She smiles as an idea strikes her. Ok, its a little harsh but worth it. Immediately she reaches for the phone and calls her husband in Abu Dhabi.

Tring, Tring, Tring... click Richard picks the call

Richard: Hi sweet heart!!!

Daisy: I have to tell you something.

Richard: Yes?

Daisy: It is dreadful but i have to tell you.

Richard: Yes tell me. (Now sounding anxious)

Daisy: I am not sure how to tell you. ( pretends to sob).

Richard: Please Daisy tell me.

Daisy: Richard i know this would hurt you but for all these days you were in Abu Dhabi... well.... I ...since the time you have been in Abu Dhabi, i have fallen in love with your best friend William. Well, we have been having an affair for the last two months. (Giggles).

No response from Richard.

Daisy: Richard are you there? APRIL FOOL!!!..... Richard are you there? Richard i said April Fool?.... are you listening Richard. Richard?...


... and Richard was certainly not listening to Daisy as he had already `jumped off from his flat to die instantly.

-Lapidoth the Cat-

I am cat and i am named Lapidoth of Bethleham. Fine, i am not a human being so what i am atleast 10 times more smarter than a human being. Do i have to work? no, i simply dont. All that i do is purr a little bit, meow a little bit, scratch the legs of my mistress and lo! and behold i have the choicest meal in my plate and foolish humans showering me with all love. Nobody disturbs me when i am asleep asking me stupid questions like why do i not go out on such a fine day. I always sleep snuggly in any place warm, be it the old run down gift box in the corner or amidst hard cover books of my master bearing some stupid names such as Franz kafka, Edgar Allan Poe, Jean-Paul Sartre, well i dont care who these people are or what have they done to this world

Every wednesday exactly at five in the evening,our house is visited by a gentleman carrying a bag of oranges. I am unsure why he always has to bring Oranges. He always takes the chair by the corner and starts to endlessly speak about Sathya Baba the Godman. Sathya Baba is re-incarnation of another godmen who is the re-incarnation of another godmanand the result is an endless chain of re-incarnations of several god man.

Ok so who is this baba? i am not sure. Well i have certainly seen him on TV. Certainly needs a hair cut. I have seen his so called miracles. He makes an banana appear from the sleeve of his robe. Why does not he solve the food crisis then. He spits gold bangles. Wow that should solve the endless miseries of all fathers wishing to give their daughters away with handsome gold. No, but the swamy probably does not think rational like i can. may be he just can perform these feats in front the the thousand assembled crowd. A third rate magician i should say he is.

So back to the old man. As he showers praises on the godman he seems to have an irritating habit of scratching his legs that emits white powder of his dead skin. Yuk, this man could make so much white flour in a day that a thousand flour mills would not over an entire week. He has just two remaining front teeth. Another well known incident that he recounts is how his daughter in law who was not able to concieve for 4 years was able to concieve after a week stay at the swami's ashram. Foolish man why cannot he understand what must have happened at the ashram. Another stay of his daughter in law at the ashram resulted in another pregmancy. Wow, what a miracle. His daughter in law must certainly be happy now.

The Trip

Once upon a time, an engineer boy from Goa, who always wanted to be a writer, falls in love with a doctor girl from Kerala, who always wanted to be a doctor. Careers separates the two love birds as the boy finds himself in the bustling city of Pune, working on computers, whereas the girl treats  the sick in the deep rural confines of Kerala. One day they decide to meet each other in the ‘God’s own Country’.............
So I have one week of vacation and in that week I have to attend the wedding of a distant cousin, be at a rave party in Goa with friends and travel more than 500 kms down south in Kerala to meet my beloved. Challenge accepted. The wedding and the rave party were fairly easy tasks because they both happened in Goa, the place I grew up in. Now comes the more treacherous part of the adventure. A travel to Kerala.
A pack my back-pack with all essentials. A sachet of toothpaste, my toothbrush, my Nikon Coolpix 7.1 MP digicam and a spare t-shirt. No plane or train or hotel reservations. No friends to accompany me either. It is me on my own, all alone in an alien land. I turn to Geography remembering Mrs. Furtado, my geography teacher in school, I consult the old torn Oxford Atlas and try to locate Cannanore (The place my beloved stays). I find it and it is few miles south of Mangalore. So that is easy. I know a local train leaving the Madgaon junction at 2:30 PM that will take me to Mangalore. I shall stay there for a night and leave early morning to Cannanore. I leave my home and tell my mom I am heading to Kerala to meet my girlfriend. I do not talk much as my mom is in a state of utter confusion.
Odd, as I board the 2:30 Madgaon-Mangalore passenger and I find a lot of foreigners inside it. I cross-check the surroundings to see if I am in the wrong country. I am in India and I learn from Marion from Hamburg, that everyone is either visiting Gokarna or Murdeshwara (Places considered as Meccas of Hippies along with Goa) to discover spirituality and Lord Shiva. Interesting I should say. I never knew these places existed and I never knew we could discover the almighty here.
The train starts and soon it is passing through long, dark & noisy tunnels. The train stops at Gokarana and I bid farewell to Marion as she bumbles the words “Om Namah Shivay” in a thick accent. The train leaves and I mesmerized by the beauty of Coastal Karnataka. Everything seems so pristine here. The bunch of school kids with slates and worn out backpacks enthusiastically wave at the passing train standing in the paddy fields, the evening sun slowly turning into shades of orange as it is about to greet the Arabian Sea, a lone fisherman adjusting the fishing lines on his boat in the middle of a rivulet and the huge 123 feet statue of Lord Shiva in Murudeshwara. The sights were truly mesmerizing and I reach out for my camera. Something stirs inside me and I do not take out the camera. I say to myself, what is the need of a camera when these divine images have been permanently imprinted in my heart.
It is 10:00 Pm in the night as I reach Mangalore Central Station. The first train that leaves to Cannanore, I find, is the next morning’s Mangalore-Calicut passenger at 06:30 AM. I have to spend a night in this town. The first hotel I find outside the station is the Taj mahal, which is not as majestic as the monument of love Shahjahan had built for his lady love but I think I would be fine in it. I ask for a single room and I am told there are no available single rooms in this hotel and points out to bleak building on the other side of the road which would server my purpose. The name of this hotel is V INDAVAN. Ok, the R from its neon sign board is malfunctioning or it would have been the mythological garden wherein Lord Krishna played his flute and danced with the beautiful Gopis. As I walk across to it the smell of garlic from a restaurant named Zam-Zam awakens the hunger inside me. Funny name, Zam-Zam, a person from Pune might confuse it with Tum-Tum, the six-seater shared auto-rickshaws which may even accommodate 12 people on a busy day.
So I head to the restaurant instead and order a plate of Chicken Sukkha (Dry spicy Chicken) with Porottas. My advice to all the readers, when you are in Mangalore nothing tastes better than its delicious Chicken Sukkha. After the sumptuous meal I headed to Vrindavan. I ask for a single room and an old dilapidated register is shoved towards me. “Rs. 200 fa-ar a Night” says the man with a nasal voice. The man is something to look at. With one closed eye and scars running down on his dark cheeks he could easily pass for a villain’s sidekick in a Mollywood movie. I sign the register and a porter helps me with my luggage. He walks in front of me with a torch and my backpack slung over his shoulders. Through a dark narrow passage full of cobwebs. I hum to myself the Eagles track ‘... and I was thinking to myself this could be heaven or this could be hell....’ and suddenly we are greeted by a group of about 10-12 mice who are making their way towards the storeroom. I look at them with disgust and the porter looks back at me with a sinister smirk on his face. “This haaappens sometimes sa’ar” he remarks casually. I am ushered into a dingy room with a single bed with coir sticking out the mattress in some parts. I sleep with all the weariness and it does not take long before sleep overcomes me.
I wake up the next day at 06:00,wash myself, quickly check-out and board the Mangalore-Calicut Passenger. Dawn has just begun and as the train travels through the countryside of Kerala I am being transported into another paradise. Elegant tiled rooftop houses, greenery welcoming me, fisherman spreading their nets through the solitary backwaters, I wind through the scenic surroundings of the ‘God’s own Country’. Beautiful being small word to describe my feelings within three hours of journey I reach my destination with my Lady love smiling as she waits at the Cannanore station. Simple and elegantly dressed in a white Salwar, we embrace each other. She tells me Canannore is a notorious place for young lovers hence we need not be seen together in public. We decide to travel to Thalassery instead, a historic place barely 1 hour from Cannanore. The bus ride is bumpy and the bus driver drives as though he owns the roads. He mercilessly honks at the oncoming vehicles as we pass through series of laterite and tile roofed houses with wide verandas, through a narrow track along a long, beautiful, and serene beachside.
First we sit side by side at an ice cream parlour and order two large chocolate ice-cream scoops. The taste of the ice cream is simply yummy and I fall short of words to describe it. Next we head to the Thalassery Fort, once an English bastion, and as we get cosy in each other’s company we  are shooed away by two burly, dark men in their folded lungis, who point out to a school in the vicinity and say such things might badly influence the school children. We have no option then to desert the place. Now all this love has made us hungry and we quietly slip inside a restaurant.
The lunch consists of two large portions of crisp fried kingfish, a spice dry side dish of shrimps, three different chutneys and copious amounts of boiled rice on which is poured the loveliest sardine curry I have ever tasted. South India is one place where the hoteliers rejoice if you ask for more rice and so it was evident with the broad smile of the waiter every time we asked to be served with more rice. We were so full after the meal that we could barely walk. We choose to walk hand in hand the beautiful beach along the Thalassery pier. We witnessed sea gulls crowding around boats that brought crates of shrimps, kingfish and mackerels to the shore.
Finally as the sun set it was time to say farewell. It was the most memorable day of my life with mixed feelings of sadness leaving my beloved behind and also a state of ecstasy to see the Lord’s most divine creation. To see mother earth with a totally different fascination and to experience a true paradise on Earth in barely two days.
I wind through the nights,
Pondering over the lovely sights,
A new day, a new dawn greets,
as my eyes and the heavenly seas meets.
...............Two years later, they boy from Goa marries the girl from Kerala and they live happily ever after.

A letter to miss J.

Dear Miss. J,

I still would want to make my point understood that having formulas to manage money would not work. You would ask why, well, inquisitive a you are let me tell you the story of Ptah the Zebra and Jisis the monkey. It goes this way

Jisis was a monkey, a female monkey. Let me describe her personality

Jisis had the special ability, even among the animals, to delight those around them with her warmth, her good humor, and with her often extraordinary skills in music, comedy, and drama. Whether on the job, with friends, or with their families, she was exciting and full of fun, and their great social interest lied in stimulating those around them to take a break from work and worry, to lighten up and enjoy life.

Jisis talent for enjoying life was healthy for the most part, though it also made her more subject to temptations than the other types. Pleasure seemed to be an end in itself for them, and variety was the spice of life. And so Jisis was open to trying almost anything that promised them a good time, not always giving enough thought to the consequences.

Ptah too was a female. She was a Zebra. Now let me describe her personality.

Ptah took it upon heself to insure the health and welfare of those in her care, but she was also the most sociable of all the animals, and thus was the great nurturer of social institutions such as schools, churches, social clubs, and civic groups. She was fortunate for the rest of the animals, because friendly social service was a key to her nature. Wherever she went, She happily gave her time and energy to make sure that the needs of others were met, and that social functions were a success.

She was extremely sensitive to the feelings of others, which made her perhaps the most sympathetic of all the types, but which also left her somewhat self-conscious, that is, highly sensitive to what others thought of her. Loving and affectionate herself, she needed to be loved in return. In fact, she was crushed by personal criticism, and was happiest when given ample appreciation both for herself personally and for the tireless service she gave to others.


The following drama unfolded between them on a seemingly normal day

Jisis: Trut, trut, trut. I want a banana i have not eaten anything since morning.

Ptah: Well you did not work all morning. You were out on a break for forty five minutes. You should had thought about others. We were hungry too.

Jisis: phruugh. You were out on a break too. Infact for an hour.

Ptah: Keep your mouth shut. I was out ona break for just 15 minutes.

Jisis: yes i know rest of the 45 minutes were spent talking to our boss, Kneph the fox.

Ptah: Oh please. I simply do not want to hear this non-sense, especially from you. All i share with him is a relation of a master and an worker.

Jisis: Trut, trut. I still want a banana.

Ptah: I said you would not get a banana.

Jisis: Then i want sweets. I love sweets. Especially the red sugar boiled toffees.

Ptah: I am having a headache now. Please go. You would not get bananas nor the sweets.



.... Well you would be thinking how this story contradicts your formula. Well, it does not but i loved the way you wrecked your brain trying to figure out the connection. No connection, no connection yet a connection. Trut-trut, trut-trut..


Regards,

G

The Great Bear

As i draw my eyes heavenwards,
i see you up there.
Like a mighty kite you seem,
with a long and a swaying tail.
A twinkle in the universe,
you illuminate the night sky.
The seven bright eyes you shine,
remind me of the seven sages immortalised by time.

Thoughts of April 2012

Rahul Dravid was not just a cricketer. He was a true ambassador, who presented himself in the most appropriate manner on and off the cricket field. Never involved in any controversy whatsoever, Dravid ensured cricket firmly retained its tag of 'Gentleman's game'
The essence the basicsWithout it you make itAllow me to make thisChildlike in natureRhythmYou have it or you don't that's a fallacyI'm in themEvery sprouting treeEvery child apieceEvery cloud you seeYou see with your eyesI see destruction and demiseCorruption in disguise
“Revealed faith is not harmless nonsense, it can be lethally dangerous nonsense. Dangerous because it gives people unshakeable confidence in their own righteousness. Dangerous because it gives them false courage to kill themselves, which automatically removes normal barriers to killing others. Dangerous because it teaches enmity to others labelled only by a difference of inherited tradition. And dangerous because we have all bought into a weird respect, which uniquely protects religion from normal criticism.”- Richard Dawkins
In 2004, Baba Ramdev's Divya Pharmacy showed a sale of only Rs 6, 73, 000 and paid a sales tax of Rs 53000 only. Wow. And this godmen would solve one of the greatest problem plaguing the world and baffling the economists. The problem of Black Money.Or is it just an gimmick to hold the govt to ransom so that his own pending cases of tax evasion may be solved or more appropriately dissolved???
UPA'ism : A government wherein only incompetant commities and task forces are appointed.
Hala Madrid!!! Hala Madrid!!!................. GELA MADRID...
Manuel Neuer v/s Iker Casillas ????
Go Robben!!! Bravo Bayern!!!
You know you are a Goan ...... when the sight of a fresh kingfish arouses you more than Pamela Anderson.
I went to sleep yesterday and had a dream. Bored with our work, my seven colleagues and i plan a drug heist. The plan is successful but the coordination is horribly wrong. Three of my members are killed and another caught by police. Then i see myself on a plane to Argentina with the bounty discussing with the remaining gang members as to which is better, Mozart's 40th symphony or Dvorak's 9th symphony.
i am likely to express myself in what I believe to be absolute truths. Sometimes, my well thought-out understanding of an idea is not easily understandable by others, but the i am not naturally likely to tailor the truth so as to explain it in an understandable way to others.
My bonnie has tuberculosis, my bonnie has one rotten lung, my bonnie coughs blood in her hanky, them dries it and chews it for gum.
You know you're a goan when..... in the evening, you share a beer with a person you fought with in the morning... Vascodagama truly a paradise on earth..
Never bellitle anyone when they are in a situation; good or bad; because you may never know when you might be in the same situation; then even an innocencent remark would strike you like a poison arrow
Enjoy the IPL but come June, don’t blame it for India’s test series losses because you are at the heart of the IPL’s success.
... and so i watch football. Why?? do i hate the sport named cricket. Oh no absolutely not. But i certainly hate the business named Cricket, its owners named BCCI, its promoters named The Indian Cricket Team & the i certainly hate the hypocritic buyers named the stupid Indians...Sorry Jesus Christ !!! Jimi Hendrix is the Son of the God!!!
Your reason and your passion be the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul.
..... and today i woke up as a lizard anf found i had no blood in my body instead had a green slime running through my body. Wow evolution certainly, i had chlorophyll instead of blood. Now i do not need to eat to fill up my stomach; an hour of direct sunlight would do just fine.
I woke up today and realized i am a lizard. I now may climb walls at night and eat flies with a flick of my tongue.

Sakharam the liftman and communism

Sakharam the 'liftman' held the gates of the old OTIS elevator open for Roybabu the Communist. Roybabu with the red spit dripping at the corner of his mouth made a cursory glance at Sakharam, made a gruntled noise and exclaimed "You know Sakharam what would happen if communism is in power in our country?"

Rhetoric thought Sakharam.

"There would be no classes. No poor and no rich. Every individual would earn the same. Lazy Kashinath the sweeper would earn the same as Mr. Bigshot Sonparia leaving on the 15th floor. Think about it"

And Sakharam thought and thought and finally said "Hmm sounds nice. Say if the hardworking Mr. Bigshot Sonparia earns as much as Lazy Kashinath the sweeper do, then why would he work hard and Kashinath would not be lazy with his work but stop his work altogether, after all he is earning as much as Mr. Bigshot Sonparia. Then the question is who would work? "



Roybabu the communist had no answer.

Soliloquay of Don Jose

She teased me YES she did not love me YES i was just another of her slaves YES i fought for her YES i chose not to marry someone else YES she killed a woman YES i was asked to arrest her YES i did not arrest her YES i am arrested for her crimes YES she entertains other men whilst i am in jail YES i am freed yet i still fall for her charms YES i forget my duties for her YES i end up being a criminal YES yet she still does not respect me YES she chooses another man over me YES she throws down my ring and my love YES i kill her YES i grieve her death YES i still love her YES.

My Condolence Meeting - Allegory of my life - Part III

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?

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".

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.

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.

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?

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.