It never fails to happen. They have to wake me up when I am sleeping. Of course, you can wake someone up only when he is sleeping, I mean how can you wake someone up if he is not sleeping, unless of course, you thought he was sleeping and he wasn't actually sleeping but pretended to be sleeping. Iam trying to say it is just that I never get the full run of my sleep.
This time it sounded as though they were celebrating Christmas eve in my bed room. Personally, I have nothing against Santa Claus and his army of singers who turn up every chritmas night, but I resent it very much if he sits on my stomach to say Merry Christmas. I woke up wearily, tried to shove off Mr.Claus from my stomach and to my surprise, it was not santa, but my nephew who was on the belly and he was hollering at the top of his voice asking me to wake up.
"What is the matter? It is only 9.30. What is wrong?"
"Did you forget what day it is? You are going to your would-be-wife's house today. Wake up and get ready. We have to be there by 11am." That was my sister who had come down from Bangalore, for this ceremony.
How could I forget what day it was? I was thinking of her all night. I was singing to her too,"tere bina zindagi se koi" and running around all those bushes, shrubs and trees. P.S. That is how you go about wooing a woman. You sing and prance about the trees & shrubs and roll over grass and generally appraise the girl of your physical prowess to dance to her tune, in future. And my back was aching like hell. The thing about dreams...they disappear off into the void but leave you a little tired and sleepy in the morning.
"WAAAKKKE UUUPPP!!!!" Now it was my sister's turn to shout.
It never ceases to amaze me that almost everyone shouts at me for something or the other. It is not that Iam deaf, but they kinda feel that they have to shout at me for those things to register in my head. About a week back, my house was burgled and these guys took just about everything from the house, except the TV. May be they couldn't take the TV because I was watching some programme on it, but the point is that I got screamed at by everyone in the house for it. What if I wasn't watching the TV...they would have taken TV away too. It is so difficult to drive some sense into their head when they are in the shouting mode.
I passed by my dad's room, on my way to the kitchen for a coffee. My mom was there too. They seemed very worried.
" What if he says something stupid? If this marriage proposal does not result in marriage, I do not think anything else will. The marriage broker told me that this would be last time he would bring an alliance proposal for Venu." My dad seemed very angry and upset too.
I smiled knowingly. I knew what I was going to do and I knew it would work. This girl was destined to be my wife. The previous proposals were but warm ups to the present one and I was oozing confidence from all the pores. I was still oozing when....
"Do you have to drool so much for a coffee?" Now it was my servant's turn to shout.
For some strange reason, my sis refused to come with to the girl's house. Neither did my parents. That did not bother me. They would have made me so self conscious, especially when I really opened up to talk, with their piercing glances which had the effect of a restraining order from the civil court of law.
I parked the car about fifty meters away from the girl's house. The marriage broker ,the only person to join me, and myself stepped out and walked towards the house.. No sooner had we reached the gate when he glanced back and motioned me to do the same.
A cop was standing next to my car and did what seemed like pasting something on my window pane. I rushed up to the cop and almost snatched what looked like a small slip of paper, which looked like a cash receipt. But my eyes ballooned out and my heart did a somersault when I saw what was being pasted on the window pane. It read "PARKING FINE". I was so touched and overwhelmed by this rare show of courtsey by a policeman. I mean.... how would you react if a cop walked upto you and said, " Sir, your parking is just fine". It is not everyday, policemen do such things for you. And this particular cop even showed the courtsey to stick a compliment on my car. With tears in my eyes, I shook his hand vigorously and showered a volley of
thanks.
He looked at me the way you would look at the mosquito you are about to swat. His eyes opened up wide for a second and narrowed down to slits as though he was focussing on some point on my face . I was not in the least bit surprised These cops are not used to encouraging words and probably thought I was pulling his leg.. That was when the marriage broker interfered and
indicated with his hands that the cop would be shot if he tried something violent. He simply raised his hand, pointed at me and then pointed the finger on his own head and tapped gently thrice and the cop got the message. I liked the fellow, even if he occasionally shouted at me and called me names.
The girl's brothers were at the gate to receive us. They were two big guys and one them shook my hand so violently that I thought it would come off at the should joint and the other one squeezed them so tight, my fingers became webbed like a duck's feet. The broker had filled me in on the details of the girl's family. Her father served in the army and was no more. The brothers were state wrestling champions.
She was a petite beauty. I had gathered from the photo that she was beautiful, but I had not counted on such remarkably beautiful looks. All the dialogues I had prepared seemed not to come to my mouth, but stopped at the entrance, giving a choked and congested feeling in the chest and left my mouth open and agape. I knew I had to say something so as not to look stupid.
"Brrr..." Couldn't say I didn't try.
My mouth had gone completely dry, in fact so dry, my tongue was stuck in its groove and refused to move.
I looked around to see something on which I could strike up a conversation. There was the photo of a man, in military uniform, hanging froim the wall. There was something vaguely familiar about this guy and but I couldn't put my finger on it.
Finally I broke the impasse. and pointed to the photo on the wall and asked her.
" Was your dad in the army for a long time?"
Have you poured water on the floor and watched it slowly slither all over the place. You can hardly see it move, but it is so smooth that before you knew it, the water was all over the place. The same thing happened with a ghostly silence that decended on all of us. It came down from the skies, crept into room and pervaded every nook and corner of the house. It was so silent that you could hear an ant clear its throat a mile away.
The girl and the brothers were staring at me the way you would look at Laloo Prasad Yadav and Rabri Devi, if they communicated with each other in dutch. It was like they couldn't believe what they were hearing.
The broker got up and hissed.
"Let's go"
"What do you mean let's go?"
"Listen, you dimwit. I have half a mind to kick you in the face and don't make me do it."
I knew he would from the way he looked and I was positive that if he didn't , the brothers would. We slithered out of the house and the compound.
"What did I do?".
"I don't want to say it twice and so you can listen to it when I talk to your dad about it."
And so we reached home and dad.
"your son did it again".
"What did he did again..I mean..do again?" My dad was as confused as I was.
"He asked the girl if her father was in army"
"What is wrong with that? He was in the army".
"But he was not the father"
"Brrrr....." Yes, as you probably guessed, it was me alright.
"What do you mean he was not the father?"
"Your son pointed out to a photo and asked her if her father was in the army. That was not her father."
"What is wrong with that? Anybody could make that mistake."
"No, nobody else could make this mistake except this nitwit"
"Don't call my son that. Pls clarify"
" I mean only this fruit cake of your son would point out to Nethaji Subhash Chandra Bose's photo and say a thing like that"
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Trouble is my middle name. It is that or I don't know what it is..
As it always does, this phone starts to ring when I was sleeping . It would seem that people checked with each other to find out if I was sleeping and deliberately woke me up the moment I dozed off after a hard day. How would you like it if you were shaken out of your reverie by the squealing of a phone, when you just about closed your eyes after about half an hour of scraping, rubbing, twitching and tossing in the bed. Needless to say to say, I was mad and almost smashed the phone on my head. Slamming the phone on your heads is helpful in two ways....1] it stops the bally thing from screaming and 2] for the anesthetic effect of a solid blow on the head leaves you out cold for a few hours.
I picked up the phone and muttered wearly,
"Hello? "
"Govinda raj"
"No, this is Venu raj, I mean Venugopal"
"I know that. And that is why I dialled your number, you idiot."
"Then don't call me Govinda raj. Call me Venu, if you don't mind."
"Eda, this is Govinda raj. I am back in trivandrum."
Jeeeeeezzzz, it was Govindan. And nobody warned me that he was in town.
" I called Cherian and he told me he was in a conference and may not be able to get out for the next two days. Said he would call me as soon as he could, that is, if he ever could. And Hrishi told me he was suffering from arthritis of the tongue and may not be able to speak for a few days. He promised to get back as soon as he was able to speak. Speak legibly, that is".
Which left me at his mercy for the next few days until he left town. Every time Govinda raj came down to trivandrum for a holiday, we would all get together, have a few round of drinks and get into some trouble. It never failed to happen. It had become such a regular feature of our meetings that everyone fled out of town at the mention of Govindan's name. I had to do some quick thinking and came up with,
"Hi Govinda, good to hear from you. Iam driving my car, reached Kollam, on my way to Kollappuzha, I mean Alappuzha. Don't know when I am going to get back. Will call you when I do. Bye".
"Why are you going to Kollappuzha..er ..Alappuzha?"
"My niece is getting married"
"You mean, your sister's daughter?"
" I couldn't call my sister's son my niece, now, could I?"
"You have only one sister, right?"
"That is what my father told me and it has never occurred to me that he lied to me."
"The last time I came down, she had only two sons. Now, in two years, she has not only had a daughter but she is getting married as welll, eh?"
I swallowed a few gallons of air and let out a long breath. It took me a while to empty myself of all that gas, and in the meanwhile I did some slow thinking as well, since the quick thinking I did earlier did not produce the desired results.
"He, he heh", My thinking was real slow.
"You sound like a donkey going hee haw, hee haw. Why, you even behave like one. Iam standing right outside your house from where I can see your car, which you said you were driving, in the carshed. I have seen technology progress a lot, but I never thought I would see a man drive his car and the car still stay in the same place. In your case, the carshed."
"He heh". It was still so slow that you would think I wasn't thinking at all
"Now come out and open the door. "
"I have two cars. And Iam not driving the car that is parked in the carshed, because that is parked in the carshed. Iam driving the car that Iam driving..I mean..I am driving the car that Iam driving and not the car that is parked in the carshed, because it is parked in the carshed. And my sister is not my sister..I mean..my sister is my sister..er..she is my cousin sister."
My thinking was beginning to work, still a little slow though, but working alright.
"Ok, I believe you. Just wanted to know if you all would like to go for a boat ride which I have arranged. I also have brought 3 bottles of J & B whiskey".
He might have said he brought three bottles of trouble with him. The trouble with a person like me who flirts with and dates trouble in his free time, is that trouble may not look like trouble at all. Three bottles of J & B was too tempting to let go.
"I shall ring up others and let you know when we can all get to meet".
Two days later, we all met up. My car had developed some trouble and I had to borrow Hrishi's bike to get to rendezvous. I also had a few errands to do, one of which book some tickets for a movie for parents and two cousins who had come down to visit them and also their return tickets by train.
So after dropping Hrishi with Govindan and Cherian, I took the long ride to the railway station to book tickets for my cousins. Inspite of Hrishi's warning, I had consumed a few rounds of J & B just so my bike ride too and fro would be smooth and enjoyable. After booking the tickets at the railway station, I rode off to the movie theatre to book tickets. So far, so good.
Coming out of the theatre, I noticed something wrong with the bike. It had ceased to look familiar. I wasn't very sure if it was the drinks that did it but as a man who was capable of both slow and quick thinking, I was not going to be flustered by such trivia. I got on to my quick thinking mode and I phoned Hrishi and checked the bike number. My eyes were not deceiving me. This was not Hrishi's bike.
It seemed like someone had left his bike there and took Hrishi's instead. I immediately switched to slow thinking mode and considered whether to go to the police. Slowly it dawned on me,[ a phenomenon associated with slow thinking, i.e., things dawn on you only a little slowly] to report the matter to the police. They came along with me to the movie theatre and took the bike in and now, my quick thinking told me that it was only a matter of time before police nabbed the guy who took Hrishi's bike.
And I joined up with the rest of the gang and wow!! we had a whale of a time. We were so drunk that getting home was posing to be a big problem. I swung back and forth from slow to quick thinking, but to no avail. I had forgotten where my house was. I knew it was somewhere in PTP Nagar. We drove around the colony a few times and still no sign of my house. Finally, we decided to ask someone if he knew where I was staying.
"Excuse me, Sir. Would you, by any chance, know where the house of this guy named Venugopal Unnikrishnan is ?"
"Venugopal Unnikrishnan?"
"Yes..Unugopal Annikrishn...I mean. Venugopal Unnikrishnan".
"What does he do?"
"You mean, right now?"
"No, where does he work?"
I had forgotten that too. Now I was suffering from arthritis of the brain. No such thing as slow or quick thinking happened. In fact, I couldn't think at all. But that kind person could understand the dilema I was in.
"Could you pls tell me what this..Unugop...er..Venugopal Unnikrishnan looks like?"
This time my quick thinking side of my brain answered so quickly that I could actually hear myself say it again.
"He looks like me."
"In fact, he looks exactly like him", Chipped in Hrishi.
And that is when jeep full of policemen drove up. They came straight to the point.
"Are you the mutt that filed the complaint about someone mistakenly taking your bike away?"
"Yes Sir, that was me".
"Did you go to the railway station for something?"
"Yes, I did".
"You drunken fleabag!! You left your bike at the railway station and took someone else bike from there, rode it up to the movie theatre. Coming out of the theatre, you thought someone had mistakenly taken your bike and filed a complaint with us. Now, we are taking you in for drunken driving and stealing someone else's bike".
I looked around for help. Govindan, Hrishi and Cherian were nowhere to be seen and disappeared into the void. It was that or I had gone blind.
I spent next two days at the police station, until the other guy, whose bike I had whisked away, under the influence of whiskey withdrew the police case.
I have not seen Govindan since then. I heard from Hrishi, that he took the next flight back to USA and Hrishi and Cherian still haven't stopped talking and laughing about it.
I picked up the phone and muttered wearly,
"Hello? "
"Govinda raj"
"No, this is Venu raj, I mean Venugopal"
"I know that. And that is why I dialled your number, you idiot."
"Then don't call me Govinda raj. Call me Venu, if you don't mind."
"Eda, this is Govinda raj. I am back in trivandrum."
Jeeeeeezzzz, it was Govindan. And nobody warned me that he was in town.
" I called Cherian and he told me he was in a conference and may not be able to get out for the next two days. Said he would call me as soon as he could, that is, if he ever could. And Hrishi told me he was suffering from arthritis of the tongue and may not be able to speak for a few days. He promised to get back as soon as he was able to speak. Speak legibly, that is".
Which left me at his mercy for the next few days until he left town. Every time Govinda raj came down to trivandrum for a holiday, we would all get together, have a few round of drinks and get into some trouble. It never failed to happen. It had become such a regular feature of our meetings that everyone fled out of town at the mention of Govindan's name. I had to do some quick thinking and came up with,
"Hi Govinda, good to hear from you. Iam driving my car, reached Kollam, on my way to Kollappuzha, I mean Alappuzha. Don't know when I am going to get back. Will call you when I do. Bye".
"Why are you going to Kollappuzha..er ..Alappuzha?"
"My niece is getting married"
"You mean, your sister's daughter?"
" I couldn't call my sister's son my niece, now, could I?"
"You have only one sister, right?"
"That is what my father told me and it has never occurred to me that he lied to me."
"The last time I came down, she had only two sons. Now, in two years, she has not only had a daughter but she is getting married as welll, eh?"
I swallowed a few gallons of air and let out a long breath. It took me a while to empty myself of all that gas, and in the meanwhile I did some slow thinking as well, since the quick thinking I did earlier did not produce the desired results.
"He, he heh", My thinking was real slow.
"You sound like a donkey going hee haw, hee haw. Why, you even behave like one. Iam standing right outside your house from where I can see your car, which you said you were driving, in the carshed. I have seen technology progress a lot, but I never thought I would see a man drive his car and the car still stay in the same place. In your case, the carshed."
"He heh". It was still so slow that you would think I wasn't thinking at all
"Now come out and open the door. "
"I have two cars. And Iam not driving the car that is parked in the carshed, because that is parked in the carshed. Iam driving the car that Iam driving..I mean..I am driving the car that Iam driving and not the car that is parked in the carshed, because it is parked in the carshed. And my sister is not my sister..I mean..my sister is my sister..er..she is my cousin sister."
My thinking was beginning to work, still a little slow though, but working alright.
"Ok, I believe you. Just wanted to know if you all would like to go for a boat ride which I have arranged. I also have brought 3 bottles of J & B whiskey".
He might have said he brought three bottles of trouble with him. The trouble with a person like me who flirts with and dates trouble in his free time, is that trouble may not look like trouble at all. Three bottles of J & B was too tempting to let go.
"I shall ring up others and let you know when we can all get to meet".
Two days later, we all met up. My car had developed some trouble and I had to borrow Hrishi's bike to get to rendezvous. I also had a few errands to do, one of which book some tickets for a movie for parents and two cousins who had come down to visit them and also their return tickets by train.
So after dropping Hrishi with Govindan and Cherian, I took the long ride to the railway station to book tickets for my cousins. Inspite of Hrishi's warning, I had consumed a few rounds of J & B just so my bike ride too and fro would be smooth and enjoyable. After booking the tickets at the railway station, I rode off to the movie theatre to book tickets. So far, so good.
Coming out of the theatre, I noticed something wrong with the bike. It had ceased to look familiar. I wasn't very sure if it was the drinks that did it but as a man who was capable of both slow and quick thinking, I was not going to be flustered by such trivia. I got on to my quick thinking mode and I phoned Hrishi and checked the bike number. My eyes were not deceiving me. This was not Hrishi's bike.
It seemed like someone had left his bike there and took Hrishi's instead. I immediately switched to slow thinking mode and considered whether to go to the police. Slowly it dawned on me,[ a phenomenon associated with slow thinking, i.e., things dawn on you only a little slowly] to report the matter to the police. They came along with me to the movie theatre and took the bike in and now, my quick thinking told me that it was only a matter of time before police nabbed the guy who took Hrishi's bike.
And I joined up with the rest of the gang and wow!! we had a whale of a time. We were so drunk that getting home was posing to be a big problem. I swung back and forth from slow to quick thinking, but to no avail. I had forgotten where my house was. I knew it was somewhere in PTP Nagar. We drove around the colony a few times and still no sign of my house. Finally, we decided to ask someone if he knew where I was staying.
"Excuse me, Sir. Would you, by any chance, know where the house of this guy named Venugopal Unnikrishnan is ?"
"Venugopal Unnikrishnan?"
"Yes..Unugopal Annikrishn...I mean. Venugopal Unnikrishnan".
"What does he do?"
"You mean, right now?"
"No, where does he work?"
I had forgotten that too. Now I was suffering from arthritis of the brain. No such thing as slow or quick thinking happened. In fact, I couldn't think at all. But that kind person could understand the dilema I was in.
"Could you pls tell me what this..Unugop...er..Venugopal Unnikrishnan looks like?"
This time my quick thinking side of my brain answered so quickly that I could actually hear myself say it again.
"He looks like me."
"In fact, he looks exactly like him", Chipped in Hrishi.
And that is when jeep full of policemen drove up. They came straight to the point.
"Are you the mutt that filed the complaint about someone mistakenly taking your bike away?"
"Yes Sir, that was me".
"Did you go to the railway station for something?"
"Yes, I did".
"You drunken fleabag!! You left your bike at the railway station and took someone else bike from there, rode it up to the movie theatre. Coming out of the theatre, you thought someone had mistakenly taken your bike and filed a complaint with us. Now, we are taking you in for drunken driving and stealing someone else's bike".
I looked around for help. Govindan, Hrishi and Cherian were nowhere to be seen and disappeared into the void. It was that or I had gone blind.
I spent next two days at the police station, until the other guy, whose bike I had whisked away, under the influence of whiskey withdrew the police case.
I have not seen Govindan since then. I heard from Hrishi, that he took the next flight back to USA and Hrishi and Cherian still haven't stopped talking and laughing about it.
Monday, November 10, 2008
A Rasputin Of Sorts...
Those good old days, when I used to go to the gymnasium will not happen anymore. It is all over and done with. The present generation do not have what it takes to be a true gym rat. Couldn't blame them, 'cause going to the gym is not any like going to a club or the stadium where you played those which have so much glitz and glamour..games like cricket and tennis.
In my young days gymnasium was a place visited by the thugs, hoodlums and certainly not for anyone from a decent family background. It was a place where trouble courted, married and made love to vandalism. Anyone from a good family was not supposed to workout in a gym. Why should they, when there were more interesting and entertaining sports and games like shuttle, cricket, tennis, where you could meet up with the rich and the upperclass?
It was precisely in those settings and backdrop that I decided to join a gymnasium. My mother never knew about it until I started packing on some muscles on my 51 kg of bones and skin. If my mother and family were not ready to accept that fact, it was worse at the gymnasium. I was something the cat brought in. It was a place akin to big junction in a city, where there was a traffic block created by a few huge trucks. Big, tall guys "hung" about silently, everywhere, like ships marooned in cochin harbour. And I pranced, weaved and bobbed out of the way like a lifebuoy thrown carelessly into the water. Those guys were huge and I was a wimp, who muttered thanks to everyone who did not knock me down or trampled over me. "Hey boy, roll that 3 kg dumbell over to me. Don't try to pick it up, it could be too heavy for you. Just push it hard in my direction...yeah ..attaboy!!"
I wasn't going to take this any longer. I was going to get big and strong like those guys. It took me about two years of hardwork, a lot of heaving and puffing to get to be about 75 kg and then I thought I had learned enough to set up my own gymnasium.
And that was when this interesting incident happened.
The first person ever to join my gym was a girl. May be it was just that 75 kg of muscle was not very impressive looking or it was just that I dint have the steel in my eyes to be a true bodybuilder..but she seemed very relaxed in my presence when she said, " I would like to join your gymnasium". I had known this girl for sometime , a pretty little thing, from a well to do family and I wondered what she was doing here in my gym. My eyes flexed its muscles and swelled up in size, everytime I ran into her on the road. I would also suck in all the available oxygen in the neighbourhood and my hands would jump to the side, about a foot from the body and stay that way, as though somebody stuck a hot charcoal under my armpits, everytime her eyes met mine. And I would walk upto her [ and walk past her] like a big bull walking upto a cow. My eyes would lock onto hers and say," Babe, you must be very tired because you have been running in my mind all day long.". She was also something of a choking pain, akin to a chest congestion, in the heart of every guy in the vicinity. And here she was, wanting to join up my gym. I almost jumped up with joy, but all the laden weight of the oxygen I had just sucked in, anchored me to earth.
" I have a black belt in karate and my instructor said I had to build some more strength in the arms and legs, which is why Iam here and Iam willing work very hard, as hard as you can push me to achieve my goal." She told me. This was my golden chance to show off what I was really made of. I would run around the house for a few minutes, work up a good sweat and by the time she arrived at the gym, I would load as much weight on the bar and stand next to it as though I had just finished my workout. "Boy! you are so strong. You are so humble not to show off your strength and muscles wearing those tight T shirts". I did not tell her that if I had bulging muscles on my shoulder and chest, I wouldn't wear a shirt, ever. But she was very impressed. In fact, so impressed with me was she, that she brought in two of her friends to join up at the gym, a few days later. If she was beautiful, the other two were stunningly, breathtakingly beautiful. I say, breathtaking, because I remember gasping for breath every time one of them just as much as looked at me. I found there wasn't enough oxygen for me suck in, in the gym, anymore. I was using it up like anything. " We would like to be trained the same way you train our friend" said one of them in a voice that had the effect of a cool, soothing breeze kissing my violently pounding heart. "Ok." I answered in a voice that resembled the sound of a buffalo clearing its throat.
My gym was an old, unused car shed, which had an entrance from the road and another from the house. The girls used come in from the entrance in the house. For the first two months since I started the gym, there was almost nobodyelse who joined except these girls. But what I did not know was that I was attracting the attention of the entire neighbours and even become something of a hero in their midst. It happened like this. Usually the girl who joined first, would drop by and the neighbours would see her go into the car shed. They did not know it was a gym inside, but they would see the girl coming out drenched in sweat and too weak to walk. They would also hear cries like " Venu, pls stop, I can't do it any more. No, not today...Oooh, Iam so tired, but it feels good". About half an hour later, the other beauts would sneak into the carshed and come out looking like they fell into a washing machine running at top speed. All the while, I, would go in and out the carshed without just as much as a wrinkle on my shirt. And they would say," this guy is an animal. Some kind of rasputin. Look at him!! three girls in a row and he is not even sweating. And those girls look like they have been raped by a whirlwind."
One day there was a big crash and a thudding noise outside road entrance to the gym. I rushed out to see what was happening and lo! there was another crashing sound and something heavy fell on me. It was my neighbour, a teenager, who had fallen from the roof of the car shed. And there were more, three more to be precise, on the roof. All had a certain sheepish smile on the face which resembled the grin of a monkey that bit into banana and found out that it was made of plastic. "We thought..er..ah..he..heh..". The girls had no clue as to what had happened, but I couldn't help but smile at the funny turn of events.
So many years have gone by since this incident had happened but whenever I bumped into any of those guys on the road, they would look down or the other way and avoid me altogether. And I couldn't help but break into a chuckle and wonder what those kids might have discussed about me until they found out what was happening in the car shed.
In my young days gymnasium was a place visited by the thugs, hoodlums and certainly not for anyone from a decent family background. It was a place where trouble courted, married and made love to vandalism. Anyone from a good family was not supposed to workout in a gym. Why should they, when there were more interesting and entertaining sports and games like shuttle, cricket, tennis, where you could meet up with the rich and the upperclass?
It was precisely in those settings and backdrop that I decided to join a gymnasium. My mother never knew about it until I started packing on some muscles on my 51 kg of bones and skin. If my mother and family were not ready to accept that fact, it was worse at the gymnasium. I was something the cat brought in. It was a place akin to big junction in a city, where there was a traffic block created by a few huge trucks. Big, tall guys "hung" about silently, everywhere, like ships marooned in cochin harbour. And I pranced, weaved and bobbed out of the way like a lifebuoy thrown carelessly into the water. Those guys were huge and I was a wimp, who muttered thanks to everyone who did not knock me down or trampled over me. "Hey boy, roll that 3 kg dumbell over to me. Don't try to pick it up, it could be too heavy for you. Just push it hard in my direction...yeah ..attaboy!!"
I wasn't going to take this any longer. I was going to get big and strong like those guys. It took me about two years of hardwork, a lot of heaving and puffing to get to be about 75 kg and then I thought I had learned enough to set up my own gymnasium.
And that was when this interesting incident happened.
The first person ever to join my gym was a girl. May be it was just that 75 kg of muscle was not very impressive looking or it was just that I dint have the steel in my eyes to be a true bodybuilder..but she seemed very relaxed in my presence when she said, " I would like to join your gymnasium". I had known this girl for sometime , a pretty little thing, from a well to do family and I wondered what she was doing here in my gym. My eyes flexed its muscles and swelled up in size, everytime I ran into her on the road. I would also suck in all the available oxygen in the neighbourhood and my hands would jump to the side, about a foot from the body and stay that way, as though somebody stuck a hot charcoal under my armpits, everytime her eyes met mine. And I would walk upto her [ and walk past her] like a big bull walking upto a cow. My eyes would lock onto hers and say," Babe, you must be very tired because you have been running in my mind all day long.". She was also something of a choking pain, akin to a chest congestion, in the heart of every guy in the vicinity. And here she was, wanting to join up my gym. I almost jumped up with joy, but all the laden weight of the oxygen I had just sucked in, anchored me to earth.
" I have a black belt in karate and my instructor said I had to build some more strength in the arms and legs, which is why Iam here and Iam willing work very hard, as hard as you can push me to achieve my goal." She told me. This was my golden chance to show off what I was really made of. I would run around the house for a few minutes, work up a good sweat and by the time she arrived at the gym, I would load as much weight on the bar and stand next to it as though I had just finished my workout. "Boy! you are so strong. You are so humble not to show off your strength and muscles wearing those tight T shirts". I did not tell her that if I had bulging muscles on my shoulder and chest, I wouldn't wear a shirt, ever. But she was very impressed. In fact, so impressed with me was she, that she brought in two of her friends to join up at the gym, a few days later. If she was beautiful, the other two were stunningly, breathtakingly beautiful. I say, breathtaking, because I remember gasping for breath every time one of them just as much as looked at me. I found there wasn't enough oxygen for me suck in, in the gym, anymore. I was using it up like anything. " We would like to be trained the same way you train our friend" said one of them in a voice that had the effect of a cool, soothing breeze kissing my violently pounding heart. "Ok." I answered in a voice that resembled the sound of a buffalo clearing its throat.
My gym was an old, unused car shed, which had an entrance from the road and another from the house. The girls used come in from the entrance in the house. For the first two months since I started the gym, there was almost nobodyelse who joined except these girls. But what I did not know was that I was attracting the attention of the entire neighbours and even become something of a hero in their midst. It happened like this. Usually the girl who joined first, would drop by and the neighbours would see her go into the car shed. They did not know it was a gym inside, but they would see the girl coming out drenched in sweat and too weak to walk. They would also hear cries like " Venu, pls stop, I can't do it any more. No, not today...Oooh, Iam so tired, but it feels good". About half an hour later, the other beauts would sneak into the carshed and come out looking like they fell into a washing machine running at top speed. All the while, I, would go in and out the carshed without just as much as a wrinkle on my shirt. And they would say," this guy is an animal. Some kind of rasputin. Look at him!! three girls in a row and he is not even sweating. And those girls look like they have been raped by a whirlwind."
One day there was a big crash and a thudding noise outside road entrance to the gym. I rushed out to see what was happening and lo! there was another crashing sound and something heavy fell on me. It was my neighbour, a teenager, who had fallen from the roof of the car shed. And there were more, three more to be precise, on the roof. All had a certain sheepish smile on the face which resembled the grin of a monkey that bit into banana and found out that it was made of plastic. "We thought..er..ah..he..heh..". The girls had no clue as to what had happened, but I couldn't help but smile at the funny turn of events.
So many years have gone by since this incident had happened but whenever I bumped into any of those guys on the road, they would look down or the other way and avoid me altogether. And I couldn't help but break into a chuckle and wonder what those kids might have discussed about me until they found out what was happening in the car shed.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
"O ba ma Gawd, it's Obama
Obama is the new president of the United States of America. Can you believe that? It was only a few years back, Bush wanted to get rid of Obama's family in Afganistan. Obama's cousin, Osama even had to give up throne and relinquish power because this man named Bush, bushwhacked him to seize power in Afganistan. But if Bush thought Osama would give up that easy, he had 'nother think...er..thought..ah..whatever coming.
Osama Bin Laden always had a plan. Plan 'B' to be precise. He knew he couldn't conquer America by force, but only through political will. And Bush did not believe in beating about the bush, with his statements such as Osama is the curse of the world and had to be wiped out. But Osama had always someone to bank on in America, his very own cousin, Obama. Obama was being trained in India, by Osama to take over America and Bush thought he was sitting pretty.
America has always had a history of racial discrimination. I remember Mohammed Ali [ former heavy weight boxing champion of the world] telling me this story about how it was after he won the Olympic title. Ali dropped in at this restaurant where they wouldn't entertain any blacks. He thought he being the world champ would make some difference to these white morons, especially to this waiter who declared " We don't serve niggers" and Ali said " I don't eat them either".
It was partly due this alienation from the main race, that Obama had come down to settle down in India, in Chennai, to be precise. He was my classmate and best friend in school and that is how I know the inside story. Obama was a short thickset boy then and we used to call him "katta" Obama in school. And we were inseperable. In the early eighties, his father set up a transport service called 'Katta Obaman' transport service, which was later taken over by the Tamil Nadu Govt. He also was the leading man and hero in the famous tamil movie, Veera Pandi Katta Obaman.
Obama jumped into political fray at a very early age. He joined up with DMK who were very much against the aryan race and Klu Klax Klan. He was very good at studies and after school, he went to Harvard and I, wayward. We would always keep in touch though.
The rest is history.
Obama had phoned yesterday to say that the White House will not be called thus after he was sworn in. He has decided to call it 'Black House'. A lot of "white mischief" had taken place in the office and he says it was time to cover up all the previous operations with a "black label".
It is very good news for Indian wives that Obama has taken up the charge d' affairs of american parliament. His immediate plans to stop outsourcing of work would mean that those engaged in software development would be hard pressed for any development, which will lead to more men reaching home very early in the evening and spending more time with the family. Also their flaccid and software approach to their soft, weary wives would be little more hardware-developement-oriented in nature, leading to more placid state of affairs at home. With less money flowing in, there will be less demand for a lot of things in the market, leading to crashing of prices of all essential commodities such as luxury cars, land, gold and to a great extent, even vegetables.
Now that I have inhouse information on every policy matters, I shall keep you posted
of every little development the american govt makes.
All I can say now is , "O BA MA GAWD, OBAMA IS GREAT"
Osama Bin Laden always had a plan. Plan 'B' to be precise. He knew he couldn't conquer America by force, but only through political will. And Bush did not believe in beating about the bush, with his statements such as Osama is the curse of the world and had to be wiped out. But Osama had always someone to bank on in America, his very own cousin, Obama. Obama was being trained in India, by Osama to take over America and Bush thought he was sitting pretty.
America has always had a history of racial discrimination. I remember Mohammed Ali [ former heavy weight boxing champion of the world] telling me this story about how it was after he won the Olympic title. Ali dropped in at this restaurant where they wouldn't entertain any blacks. He thought he being the world champ would make some difference to these white morons, especially to this waiter who declared " We don't serve niggers" and Ali said " I don't eat them either".
It was partly due this alienation from the main race, that Obama had come down to settle down in India, in Chennai, to be precise. He was my classmate and best friend in school and that is how I know the inside story. Obama was a short thickset boy then and we used to call him "katta" Obama in school. And we were inseperable. In the early eighties, his father set up a transport service called 'Katta Obaman' transport service, which was later taken over by the Tamil Nadu Govt. He also was the leading man and hero in the famous tamil movie, Veera Pandi Katta Obaman.
Obama jumped into political fray at a very early age. He joined up with DMK who were very much against the aryan race and Klu Klax Klan. He was very good at studies and after school, he went to Harvard and I, wayward. We would always keep in touch though.
The rest is history.
Obama had phoned yesterday to say that the White House will not be called thus after he was sworn in. He has decided to call it 'Black House'. A lot of "white mischief" had taken place in the office and he says it was time to cover up all the previous operations with a "black label".
It is very good news for Indian wives that Obama has taken up the charge d' affairs of american parliament. His immediate plans to stop outsourcing of work would mean that those engaged in software development would be hard pressed for any development, which will lead to more men reaching home very early in the evening and spending more time with the family. Also their flaccid and software approach to their soft, weary wives would be little more hardware-developement-oriented in nature, leading to more placid state of affairs at home. With less money flowing in, there will be less demand for a lot of things in the market, leading to crashing of prices of all essential commodities such as luxury cars, land, gold and to a great extent, even vegetables.
Now that I have inhouse information on every policy matters, I shall keep you posted
of every little development the american govt makes.
All I can say now is , "O BA MA GAWD, OBAMA IS GREAT"
Friday, October 31, 2008
The Lord, an elephant and some friends of nature
Everyone has a friend who always ends up being the butt of jokes. I also have few of those, the story of one I have narrated in this blog. I seem to attract these elements in hordes. Obviously there is something about me that they like very much and if my mother's words are to taken seriously, [ I don't and I suggest you don't either], birds of the same colour, feather, beak and religion stick together.
Here is one such story, wherein stars a good friend of mine Hrishi and a group of friends.
Hrishi and group of friends, who call themselves friends of nature, regularly take an anual trekking to Sabarimala [ a place of pilgrimage in Kerala]. They take a deviation from the regular route, i.e., they reach Sabarimala, going through a rough terrain called Erumeli, which is a virginal forest land and where there is a natural abundance of wild life. They usually take the well worn path, used by pilgrims and take a few meters ofdigression only when the call of nature is really pressing and very demanding. Even then, the group does not split, but stay in earshot distance from each other. On one such 'deviated' trip, amidst cries of " Kallum Mullum, Kalikku Methai", they were cries of "run for your life, AN ELEPHANT!!
BUT IT WAS TOO LATE!!! The elephant was too near and almost on them. And you know, you can run fast with your pants on, but not at all with your pants half down, a natural position you assume in the line of duty of attending to these calls of nature. The only natural thing to do, in these pressing times of impending danger, is to seek out the assistance of the 'Great One', Swamy Ayyappan, which was naturally what Hrishi and his friends of nature proceeded to do. In the squatting position, the elephant seen in close quarters is certainly a towering phenomenon with phenominal degree of menace, and it was not lost on our friends of nature. They closed their eyes, and without even bothering to stand up, cried aloud, all in unison. "SWAMIYE SARANAM AYYAPPA, RAKSHIKANE THAMPURANE" [ HELP US O' GOD].
And Lo!!!SWAMY AYYAPPAN answered their prayers with a loud laughter. What was a mere elephant before the might of the GREAT ONE and naturally our friends of nature were relieved [relief as in relief you feel from a narrow escape and not as in relieved bowels] to hear the laughter that came from the skies. It is not in our everyday lives that Swamy Ayyappan, personally descends from the skies to relieve [ the same meaning as the one above] you of your burdens. With a great sense of gratitude, the friends of nature jumped up, pulled up their pants not wanting to be caught with their pants down [ no pun intended] whether it be the elephant or AYYAPPAN.
There atop the elephant appeared the beaming face of their saviour, the mahout. The elephant was a tame one and was used to transport the trees felled in the forest and our friends of nature simply bumped into it or rather, the elephant simply caught them with their pants down. Needless to say, the mahout fell off the elephant, laughing his guts out and our friends of nature, all ashen faced, joined the mahout [ still lying on the ground and still laughing] in laughing mania that lasted days.
Here is one such story, wherein stars a good friend of mine Hrishi and a group of friends.
Hrishi and group of friends, who call themselves friends of nature, regularly take an anual trekking to Sabarimala [ a place of pilgrimage in Kerala]. They take a deviation from the regular route, i.e., they reach Sabarimala, going through a rough terrain called Erumeli, which is a virginal forest land and where there is a natural abundance of wild life. They usually take the well worn path, used by pilgrims and take a few meters ofdigression only when the call of nature is really pressing and very demanding. Even then, the group does not split, but stay in earshot distance from each other. On one such 'deviated' trip, amidst cries of " Kallum Mullum, Kalikku Methai", they were cries of "run for your life, AN ELEPHANT!!
BUT IT WAS TOO LATE!!! The elephant was too near and almost on them. And you know, you can run fast with your pants on, but not at all with your pants half down, a natural position you assume in the line of duty of attending to these calls of nature. The only natural thing to do, in these pressing times of impending danger, is to seek out the assistance of the 'Great One', Swamy Ayyappan, which was naturally what Hrishi and his friends of nature proceeded to do. In the squatting position, the elephant seen in close quarters is certainly a towering phenomenon with phenominal degree of menace, and it was not lost on our friends of nature. They closed their eyes, and without even bothering to stand up, cried aloud, all in unison. "SWAMIYE SARANAM AYYAPPA, RAKSHIKANE THAMPURANE" [ HELP US O' GOD].
And Lo!!!SWAMY AYYAPPAN answered their prayers with a loud laughter. What was a mere elephant before the might of the GREAT ONE and naturally our friends of nature were relieved [relief as in relief you feel from a narrow escape and not as in relieved bowels] to hear the laughter that came from the skies. It is not in our everyday lives that Swamy Ayyappan, personally descends from the skies to relieve [ the same meaning as the one above] you of your burdens. With a great sense of gratitude, the friends of nature jumped up, pulled up their pants not wanting to be caught with their pants down [ no pun intended] whether it be the elephant or AYYAPPAN.
There atop the elephant appeared the beaming face of their saviour, the mahout. The elephant was a tame one and was used to transport the trees felled in the forest and our friends of nature simply bumped into it or rather, the elephant simply caught them with their pants down. Needless to say, the mahout fell off the elephant, laughing his guts out and our friends of nature, all ashen faced, joined the mahout [ still lying on the ground and still laughing] in laughing mania that lasted days.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Colonise the moon
My name is Madhavan Nayan and I work in VSSC. Iam the top gun
in my field, which is sending rockets to the moon. This is also a
place I call home because I stay back here for the night, many times
a week.
"You know what happens to the busy bee?...One day he will find
out that someone else is using his 'honey' ", my wife would tell me
thus when I tell her that I had lots of work at the office and would
not come back home for the night. But after successful attempts
such as the ASLV [ Arabian Sea Landing Vehicles], I wasn't going
to be stopped. I had a dream. I was reaching out to the moon.
"Now listen, you moongrel..eh..ah..I mean..mongrel!!. You cannot
make sure if your kids are going to school, but you think you can get
that contraption to the moon, of all places? You think a trip to the
moon will bring down the price of moong dal or rice?" Yes, that is
what my wife said..She said that..yes.
I wasn't going to be distracted. I had enough information from my
secret agent in NASA, Naomi Cambell [code name - ISRO 007] ,
that the americans were planning to colonise the moon. They were
establishing colonies everywhere. I had to establish territory in
the moon before americans ever got there. You see, America was a
place where a lot of Indians lived once before Christopher Colombus
brought his men over to displace the Indian community and establish
territory. I had a lot of cousins [ twice removed] in America. But Iam
ashamed to say that they are all working for Chris' nephews
and grandchildren, now. Naomi's message was loud and clear,
" 'Colonial cousins' fame skyrocket to moon". Jeeeezzz!!!!!!!!
They had taken off. I had no time to lose.
The final day of the launch had arrived.
"four...three..two..one..GO!!", I screamed at the top of my voice
and the rocket took off with a thundering blast. The blast and fire
of the rocket hit my head with a nerve shattering bang and I fell
unconcious on the floor . I still could hear the words 'moon...moon',
dripping out of my mouth
"Doctor, his name is Venugopal Unnikrishnan and Iam his wife. Ever since
he was suspended from service from VSSC, for being under the influence of
alcohol while on duty, he was not behaving normally. The night before Chandrayan was launched, he was so drunk and had not slept. At 6.45am, he announced to us that he was sending his own personal rocket to the moon, alongside Chandrayan and he set a rocket [ a kind of fire cracker you buy for Deepavali] aflame, sitting next to the TV, watching Chandrayan being launched, live. The only way to stop him was hit him on the head with a sledge hammer, which was all that was available. Is he trying to say moon..moon or is he simply moaning in pain, Doctor?"
in my field, which is sending rockets to the moon. This is also a
place I call home because I stay back here for the night, many times
a week.
"You know what happens to the busy bee?...One day he will find
out that someone else is using his 'honey' ", my wife would tell me
thus when I tell her that I had lots of work at the office and would
not come back home for the night. But after successful attempts
such as the ASLV [ Arabian Sea Landing Vehicles], I wasn't going
to be stopped. I had a dream. I was reaching out to the moon.
"Now listen, you moongrel..eh..ah..I mean..mongrel!!. You cannot
make sure if your kids are going to school, but you think you can get
that contraption to the moon, of all places? You think a trip to the
moon will bring down the price of moong dal or rice?" Yes, that is
what my wife said..She said that..yes.
I wasn't going to be distracted. I had enough information from my
secret agent in NASA, Naomi Cambell [code name - ISRO 007] ,
that the americans were planning to colonise the moon. They were
establishing colonies everywhere. I had to establish territory in
the moon before americans ever got there. You see, America was a
place where a lot of Indians lived once before Christopher Colombus
brought his men over to displace the Indian community and establish
territory. I had a lot of cousins [ twice removed] in America. But Iam
ashamed to say that they are all working for Chris' nephews
and grandchildren, now. Naomi's message was loud and clear,
" 'Colonial cousins' fame skyrocket to moon". Jeeeezzz!!!!!!!!
They had taken off. I had no time to lose.
The final day of the launch had arrived.
"four...three..two..one..GO!!", I screamed at the top of my voice
and the rocket took off with a thundering blast. The blast and fire
of the rocket hit my head with a nerve shattering bang and I fell
unconcious on the floor . I still could hear the words 'moon...moon',
dripping out of my mouth
"Doctor, his name is Venugopal Unnikrishnan and Iam his wife. Ever since
he was suspended from service from VSSC, for being under the influence of
alcohol while on duty, he was not behaving normally. The night before Chandrayan was launched, he was so drunk and had not slept. At 6.45am, he announced to us that he was sending his own personal rocket to the moon, alongside Chandrayan and he set a rocket [ a kind of fire cracker you buy for Deepavali] aflame, sitting next to the TV, watching Chandrayan being launched, live. The only way to stop him was hit him on the head with a sledge hammer, which was all that was available. Is he trying to say moon..moon or is he simply moaning in pain, Doctor?"
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Cherian in birthday suit
When I think about the past, how more than half my life went by, in a jiffy, I wonder if I would have made any difference to it if I had a chance to have a go at it again. I might not even take the offer at all. You are not going to believe this...one of the reasons is Cherian, my best friend. If I got another chance to redeem myself , that would mean that Cherian would also get another chance and he may use it to change himself radically from the person that he is now. Now what is life without an occassional dose of Cherian? He has become as addictive as your regular bed coffee. You know very well that coffee is not good for you , though it is ok in small doses. I have had people give varied opinions about Cherian , as myriad as, " I didn't know what a headache looked like until I met cherian" or " you do not miss headaches however frequent they were, now do you?", when they were asked a simple question such as "would you miss Cherian if he went away for a long time?".
Cherian hails from the Great Royal family of the "Perumals". His great great great grandfather was called King Cheran [King Cheraman Perumal fame]. But when the advent of Christianity came with St.Xavier visiting Kerala in the early 500AD, King Cheran converted to Christianity [ that was the kind of thing in vogue at that time] and made a minor change to his name...i.e.,
he became King Cher[i]an.
What makes Cherian so unique, is the way he reacts to things. He considers himself an incurable romantic. Yet, when this lovely girl, in engineering college, asked him, " Cheian dear, may I hold your hand?", Cherian absent mindedly replied, " no, it is not heavy, I shall hold it myself..". Now that hurt...I mean that hurt like hell. Not many girls dared to give Cherian a caressing glance
with a romatic eye, ever after. Cherian was thought to be rude and sarcastic, but we, the close friends, know it is not true. Another thing about Cherian is that if you asked him the same question three times, you would get three different answers. Lalu Mangal, who is currrently engaged in the uphill task of teaching Cherian to play guitar, begs to differ. " Four", he says, " because he is square". Now that is rude, coming from the guru himself.
Now, let me knock of the bull...t and come to the point. Why wouldn't I want a go at redeeming myself, if I got a chance? Like I told ya earlier, Cherian would also change himself and with it all fun in life. From the days when we were in school, Cherian was always there to butt in anywhere with his ready-mix of jokes or he would be butt of the joke, himself. Nothing funny ever happened, without Cherian starring in it. You name it, Cherian has done it. And he excelled in all sports and games too. He is credited with scoring four goals playing a cricket match against the 'B' batch, in Govt.Arts College. He scored the first goal when the ball he threw at the stumps, hit the wicket keeper on the head that knocked him out for the rest of the season, the second when he swung his bat to hit a sixer even before the bowler released the ball and got bowled out, the third when stopped a square drive, catching the ball in his mouth, the fourth when he stopped the ball at the "slips" and ran with the ball to the other end beating the batsman to it, but failing to stump him out [ he forgot... he thought he was doing a 100m dash]. And he sings too. But do not ever ask Lalu Mangal , his opinion. If you asked him, , his answer would be something like," Pigs might fly!!".
Now here is a story about Cherian which still does the rounds in the friend's circle. It is called Cherian in birthday suit. Ofcourse it was not same dress which he wore on november 9th, 1960. Iam so sorry if I coveyed such an impression. Of course, Cherian still wears the same outfit, only it is a bit crumpled and stretched, as though it needed a bit of pressing and ironing badly. This story does not refer to that particular dress of his, but another one which he received as birthday gift.
This happenend way back in college when Cherian started to learn to play guitar from Lalu Mangal. Needless to say, his outfit wasn't as shabby as it is now, it had a glow and gleam to it, with all the daily massage and cleaning it was subjected to. And he hoped to impress a few female hearts with his deft work of fingers, of course on the guitar strings [ what else did you think?].
Lalu was an ideal choice of a guitar guru. For one, he did not charge any fees and did not mind if Cherian occassionally [once a day] broke the guitar strings. He attacked the strings with a vengence, tearing at it sometimes, enraged by its refusal to produce any sound that remotely resembled anything he called "moosik". Lalu had to put up with not only the cacophonic flatulence emnated from the guitar, but also all the verbal diarrhea cherian's fury unleashed, as well. And he would remark thus, sometimes. " There is no point in teaching you anything, Cherian. Whatever I say goes in one ear and out the other ear, because there is nothing in between to stop them". Now we used to call him fat headed, but this void and emptiness Lalu referred to was never noticed by any of us.
Cherian did not have much time at his command. He was supposed to play guitar for one of the musical functions to be held at Kovalam beach. He was confident he could, though Lalu's comments like "that will be the day" were not exactly very encouraging. One more thing bothered Cherian. What if the guitar strings broke again, while he was playing on stage? He may not look it, but to be prepared for any eventualiy was Cherian, if not anything else. He ordered for some guitar strings, to be brought from England. He was very happy to know that his cousin in England bought, in an auction, guitar strings used by none other than the famous actress and singer, Barbara Streissand. Cherian proudly announced to everyone this fact. He could hardly contain himself. He told everyone to be present for his birthday, which happened to the day before day of college day celebrations, so he could show everyone this special gift.
We all reached Cherian's house at the appointed time and there was Cherian waving this package covered with a very brightly coloured paper. In front of about 100 of his friends, Cherian unwrapped the packet. And pulled out what looked like anything but guitar strings. It was an elastic band which had a few strange looking attachements made of very thin cloth.
"Those are G-Strings!!! Proabably worn by Barbara Streissand when she strutted around the beaches", someone yelled loudly. Until then I had never seen G-Strings in my life. I do not recall anyone using one either. Cherian grew livid with rage and confronted his cousin for playing the worst ever prank possible. But his cousin insisted that this was what Cherian had ordered and showed the letter Cherian send him.
"Dear Biju, I am due to appear in a function, to be held at Kovalam beach, clad as smartly as possible and even play git..er..this musical instrument. Could you send me some Gi...er G strings so I can use them in case I need them?"
Cherian could not spell guitar right and so he cut short the word guitar strings to g strings and I think he never expected to receive a piece of clothing that can be comfortably folded and packed in a match box.
All said and done, he is a great friend who will stand by through thick and thin [and it is not the reason why he is called thick headed, period], a real buddy to all who care to try and understand the complex personality, that is Cherian.
Cherian hails from the Great Royal family of the "Perumals". His great great great grandfather was called King Cheran [King Cheraman Perumal fame]. But when the advent of Christianity came with St.Xavier visiting Kerala in the early 500AD, King Cheran converted to Christianity [ that was the kind of thing in vogue at that time] and made a minor change to his name...i.e.,
he became King Cher[i]an.
What makes Cherian so unique, is the way he reacts to things. He considers himself an incurable romantic. Yet, when this lovely girl, in engineering college, asked him, " Cheian dear, may I hold your hand?", Cherian absent mindedly replied, " no, it is not heavy, I shall hold it myself..". Now that hurt...I mean that hurt like hell. Not many girls dared to give Cherian a caressing glance
with a romatic eye, ever after. Cherian was thought to be rude and sarcastic, but we, the close friends, know it is not true. Another thing about Cherian is that if you asked him the same question three times, you would get three different answers. Lalu Mangal, who is currrently engaged in the uphill task of teaching Cherian to play guitar, begs to differ. " Four", he says, " because he is square". Now that is rude, coming from the guru himself.
Now, let me knock of the bull...t and come to the point. Why wouldn't I want a go at redeeming myself, if I got a chance? Like I told ya earlier, Cherian would also change himself and with it all fun in life. From the days when we were in school, Cherian was always there to butt in anywhere with his ready-mix of jokes or he would be butt of the joke, himself. Nothing funny ever happened, without Cherian starring in it. You name it, Cherian has done it. And he excelled in all sports and games too. He is credited with scoring four goals playing a cricket match against the 'B' batch, in Govt.Arts College. He scored the first goal when the ball he threw at the stumps, hit the wicket keeper on the head that knocked him out for the rest of the season, the second when he swung his bat to hit a sixer even before the bowler released the ball and got bowled out, the third when stopped a square drive, catching the ball in his mouth, the fourth when he stopped the ball at the "slips" and ran with the ball to the other end beating the batsman to it, but failing to stump him out [ he forgot... he thought he was doing a 100m dash]. And he sings too. But do not ever ask Lalu Mangal , his opinion. If you asked him, , his answer would be something like," Pigs might fly!!".
Now here is a story about Cherian which still does the rounds in the friend's circle. It is called Cherian in birthday suit. Ofcourse it was not same dress which he wore on november 9th, 1960. Iam so sorry if I coveyed such an impression. Of course, Cherian still wears the same outfit, only it is a bit crumpled and stretched, as though it needed a bit of pressing and ironing badly. This story does not refer to that particular dress of his, but another one which he received as birthday gift.
This happenend way back in college when Cherian started to learn to play guitar from Lalu Mangal. Needless to say, his outfit wasn't as shabby as it is now, it had a glow and gleam to it, with all the daily massage and cleaning it was subjected to. And he hoped to impress a few female hearts with his deft work of fingers, of course on the guitar strings [ what else did you think?].
Lalu was an ideal choice of a guitar guru. For one, he did not charge any fees and did not mind if Cherian occassionally [once a day] broke the guitar strings. He attacked the strings with a vengence, tearing at it sometimes, enraged by its refusal to produce any sound that remotely resembled anything he called "moosik". Lalu had to put up with not only the cacophonic flatulence emnated from the guitar, but also all the verbal diarrhea cherian's fury unleashed, as well. And he would remark thus, sometimes. " There is no point in teaching you anything, Cherian. Whatever I say goes in one ear and out the other ear, because there is nothing in between to stop them". Now we used to call him fat headed, but this void and emptiness Lalu referred to was never noticed by any of us.
Cherian did not have much time at his command. He was supposed to play guitar for one of the musical functions to be held at Kovalam beach. He was confident he could, though Lalu's comments like "that will be the day" were not exactly very encouraging. One more thing bothered Cherian. What if the guitar strings broke again, while he was playing on stage? He may not look it, but to be prepared for any eventualiy was Cherian, if not anything else. He ordered for some guitar strings, to be brought from England. He was very happy to know that his cousin in England bought, in an auction, guitar strings used by none other than the famous actress and singer, Barbara Streissand. Cherian proudly announced to everyone this fact. He could hardly contain himself. He told everyone to be present for his birthday, which happened to the day before day of college day celebrations, so he could show everyone this special gift.
We all reached Cherian's house at the appointed time and there was Cherian waving this package covered with a very brightly coloured paper. In front of about 100 of his friends, Cherian unwrapped the packet. And pulled out what looked like anything but guitar strings. It was an elastic band which had a few strange looking attachements made of very thin cloth.
"Those are G-Strings!!! Proabably worn by Barbara Streissand when she strutted around the beaches", someone yelled loudly. Until then I had never seen G-Strings in my life. I do not recall anyone using one either. Cherian grew livid with rage and confronted his cousin for playing the worst ever prank possible. But his cousin insisted that this was what Cherian had ordered and showed the letter Cherian send him.
"Dear Biju, I am due to appear in a function, to be held at Kovalam beach, clad as smartly as possible and even play git..er..this musical instrument. Could you send me some Gi...er G strings so I can use them in case I need them?"
Cherian could not spell guitar right and so he cut short the word guitar strings to g strings and I think he never expected to receive a piece of clothing that can be comfortably folded and packed in a match box.
All said and done, he is a great friend who will stand by through thick and thin [and it is not the reason why he is called thick headed, period], a real buddy to all who care to try and understand the complex personality, that is Cherian.
Friday, October 24, 2008
THE BLACK & WHITE OF THE MATTER
This is just a narration of an incident that happened when I was very active in an organisation called the PFA [People For Animals]. A few days after joining the group, I assumed the role of joint secretary of PFA. The secretary happened to be a very stern looking woman named Leela Latheef . She had this nasty habit of making me do just about everything she was supposed to do and take the credit for it. And on that fateful afternoon, my beauty nap was shattered by a telephone ringing, so furiously, as though shouting all profanities you could imagine at me. The only person who could bring about such conditions on inanimate objects was Leela Latheef.
I picked up the phone, " hello Leela chechi"
"how do you always know it is me?"
"never mind. What's up?'
"Now listen, dingbat. I found this strange looking ant which hasblack and white marking on its body in my kitchen"
"say what!!!"
"Yes, an ant with black and white lines on its...er...buttocks."
"Ant's buttocks !!!!!???"
"well, whatever you call its rear end".
" Chechi, are you sure it is an ant? As far as I know, only zebras have black and white lines on their body. Are you sure it is not a zebra?"
"listen you dingaling. I have that ant in the palm of my hand, righthere. You couldn't do hold a zebra in the palm of the hand, now could you? "
She had a point there, and a very pertinent one. She weighed about 15-20 kg less than an adult zebra and her palm couldn't be big enough to hold one.
" now what do you want me to do?"
"Now go to Prem's house, find out all you can about this particularspecies of ants. I think this is a very rare find..something that was thought to be extinct. The world could be in for a shock, Venu, whenI tell everyone of my findings. After Prem's, go off to meet thedirector of the zoo,Mr. Ravindran and report the finding to him and get back here, in my house, in five minutes, pronto".
Prem was supposed to be a walking encyclopedia on animals, birds,insects, and all creepy-crawlies. He was very short man, in fact, he was so short, he was always the last one to know when it rained. His face had a perpetual frown, acquired from years of squinting into holes and crevices made by insects. I always kept my nose tightly shut, in his presence, for fear of him poking a finger in there to check for anything that walked, creeped or crawled.
"hi Prem" I yelled. I never go too near him lest I get inspected with those fingers.
"Hi bud, what's crawling...I mean.. cooking?
"I told him the story.
"Never heard of any such species. Let's check it with Mr.Ravindran, anyway"
We were made to wait for an hour at Mr.Ravindran's office. He hated all the PFA members and needless to say we had this feeling we were Antartica, looking for penguins and seals. Ravindran was a tall, thin man in his early fiftees. Until you walked upto him, you couldn't be sure he was facing you frontward or sideways....he was that thin. He was always wired to his seat for fear being blown away if someone just much as sneezed and of course, he never switched on the tablefan.
"what do you want?" he growled
"Sir, we found this strange looking ant and an ant that...."
"Listen, Venu. I have my hands full of work this morning and I don'thave the time nor the inclination to listen to this story of ants.Make it very short."
"Sir, it is very rare species of ants"
"ok, put it along with the other insects".
"Now Sir, if I may point out.. we do not have any other insects".
"Whatever happened to the other members of the PFA?"
We came out dejected and depressed. I was going to mortally ruin all chances of Leela chechi's dream of getting into history books withthis rare find. I decided to confront Leela chechi with my findings on the issue.Leela chechi lived in a big house, half of which known only to the dogs and cats that lived there. I mean it took an excruciatingly painful, long search of the surrounding to find out where she was in the house. She was in the company of Sarala, another PFA member, whose husband was a building contractor. Sarala was what you called a 15 year old boy's dream, I mean, she had big muscles and even a faint ghost of a mustache. She and Leelachechi greeted me with wide grins, Leela chechi's being wider and broader. You would think if she didn't have ears at the side of her head, the ends of her lips would meet each other behind her head.
" know what, Venu?. Sarala's workers were painting the windows white and iron grills black. This irritated a colony of ants, which had colonised the crevice on the window. You know, these ants... when they are angry, they raise the back side in a show of temper, which rubbed against wet paint on the grill and window sill, leaving those black and white marks on their body. And I thought...hi..hi.. And youdingbat, you told the entire world that I made this silly mistake. You have a big mouth".
Yes, I needed a big mouth because that is where I kept my foot.
I picked up the phone, " hello Leela chechi"
"how do you always know it is me?"
"never mind. What's up?'
"Now listen, dingbat. I found this strange looking ant which hasblack and white marking on its body in my kitchen"
"say what!!!"
"Yes, an ant with black and white lines on its...er...buttocks."
"Ant's buttocks !!!!!???"
"well, whatever you call its rear end".
" Chechi, are you sure it is an ant? As far as I know, only zebras have black and white lines on their body. Are you sure it is not a zebra?"
"listen you dingaling. I have that ant in the palm of my hand, righthere. You couldn't do hold a zebra in the palm of the hand, now could you? "
She had a point there, and a very pertinent one. She weighed about 15-20 kg less than an adult zebra and her palm couldn't be big enough to hold one.
" now what do you want me to do?"
"Now go to Prem's house, find out all you can about this particularspecies of ants. I think this is a very rare find..something that was thought to be extinct. The world could be in for a shock, Venu, whenI tell everyone of my findings. After Prem's, go off to meet thedirector of the zoo,Mr. Ravindran and report the finding to him and get back here, in my house, in five minutes, pronto".
Prem was supposed to be a walking encyclopedia on animals, birds,insects, and all creepy-crawlies. He was very short man, in fact, he was so short, he was always the last one to know when it rained. His face had a perpetual frown, acquired from years of squinting into holes and crevices made by insects. I always kept my nose tightly shut, in his presence, for fear of him poking a finger in there to check for anything that walked, creeped or crawled.
"hi Prem" I yelled. I never go too near him lest I get inspected with those fingers.
"Hi bud, what's crawling...I mean.. cooking?
"I told him the story.
"Never heard of any such species. Let's check it with Mr.Ravindran, anyway"
We were made to wait for an hour at Mr.Ravindran's office. He hated all the PFA members and needless to say we had this feeling we were Antartica, looking for penguins and seals. Ravindran was a tall, thin man in his early fiftees. Until you walked upto him, you couldn't be sure he was facing you frontward or sideways....he was that thin. He was always wired to his seat for fear being blown away if someone just much as sneezed and of course, he never switched on the tablefan.
"what do you want?" he growled
"Sir, we found this strange looking ant and an ant that...."
"Listen, Venu. I have my hands full of work this morning and I don'thave the time nor the inclination to listen to this story of ants.Make it very short."
"Sir, it is very rare species of ants"
"ok, put it along with the other insects".
"Now Sir, if I may point out.. we do not have any other insects".
"Whatever happened to the other members of the PFA?"
We came out dejected and depressed. I was going to mortally ruin all chances of Leela chechi's dream of getting into history books withthis rare find. I decided to confront Leela chechi with my findings on the issue.Leela chechi lived in a big house, half of which known only to the dogs and cats that lived there. I mean it took an excruciatingly painful, long search of the surrounding to find out where she was in the house. She was in the company of Sarala, another PFA member, whose husband was a building contractor. Sarala was what you called a 15 year old boy's dream, I mean, she had big muscles and even a faint ghost of a mustache. She and Leelachechi greeted me with wide grins, Leela chechi's being wider and broader. You would think if she didn't have ears at the side of her head, the ends of her lips would meet each other behind her head.
" know what, Venu?. Sarala's workers were painting the windows white and iron grills black. This irritated a colony of ants, which had colonised the crevice on the window. You know, these ants... when they are angry, they raise the back side in a show of temper, which rubbed against wet paint on the grill and window sill, leaving those black and white marks on their body. And I thought...hi..hi.. And youdingbat, you told the entire world that I made this silly mistake. You have a big mouth".
Yes, I needed a big mouth because that is where I kept my foot.
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