Friday, April 27, 2007

(De)press-ing Incident

As I've mentioned earlier, The Hellish Thing We HAVE to do Over the Summer has taught me a couple of things.
One of which is, People can be really dumb.

At a college where we'd gone to get info on the 1 PUC Application forms:

Us: Hello! We're coming from the press...

(Bad grammar, I know, but we wanted to make sure that they'd understand us)

Dumbman: (Interupting) Ay, what you want man? What is that?

Us: We're from *The name of the newspaper, repeated twice, loudly and clearly*

Him: Ha, so?

(thinking) So, do you WANT us to write bad reviews about your college? You absolute MORON.
(aloud) So we'd like to get a bit of informaton on the 1 PUC applications, please.

Him: You cant read the sign or what? 9 to 12 only. Come tomorrow ya.

Jay huffs out in disgust. Me and Su2 remain, persistantly determined to bore through this man's abnormally thick head.

Su2: (under her breath) Do we look like 14 year olds to you, you senseless cow? You sit in a freaking PU college the entire day, for crying out loud!

Idiot: Oh oh. Howda? Wokay. Swalpa wait madi.
(consults with fellow cow)

Us: tap shoes on concrete floor impatiently creating an ironically upbeat rhythm

Dumbman: (Interupting the rhythm in a most impolite manner)
ginformation yella kodakagalla.

Su2: (Under her breath) Who's asking for any ginformation?

Me: (persistantly) No, but thumba rush itha ee sati? Application forms ge?

Dumbman: (thinks) Aaaaaathara yenilla... Ashtu iralillaaaa...

Us: (momentarily astounded by the dumbness.)

How could the college place- so strategically- the dumbest employee they had?

Fellow Cow: (observing procedings and deciding to intervene)
Ha medam. Thumba rushu ithu.
(glares at Dumbman, before being called away by someone else.)

Us: (boldly) Nim College alli donation geenation yenadau idiya?

(Geenation, that kills me. How FnA and I laugh about that!)

Dumbman: Avella myangement secrets. Heng helakkagathe?

Su2: (Highly amused at the dumbness, giggles most unprofessionally)

Me: (Highly enraged at the dumbness)
So is that what you want me to put in tomorrow's paper?

Fellow Cow: (surmising trouble from afar, rushes forth and answers some of our questions, mostly with a stout: ) Gotthilla.

We left disgustedly, and spent the next 10 minutes in the auto trying to prevent Jay from calling the Cows back to "Tell them to throw themselves off a &@*%# cliff."

Thursday, April 26, 2007

The Hellish Thing We HAVE To Do Over The Summer, Goddammit.

My thoughts on it so far:

1. Bleargh.

2. There's nothing to do!

3. Thank god for Jay, Tenzen and the lot.

4. I had to smile at six random people on MG Road. Six. For the longest time, as I convinced them each that I was not a lunatic out to do stuff on the internet with the pictures we would be taking of them.
it was.
But once they did understand, it was nice to see them excited at the prospect of seeing their photos in the paper the next day. It was cute even. (Awww!)

5. I have learnt how to interpret people's 'Yes', 'No', 'I dont know' answers into articulate 45 word quotes.

6. Interesting Observation:
The general tendency of the public when approached by young "journalists" on the road is as follows:
If it is "boy journalist"- Glare nastily and increase pace three-fold.
If it is "girl journalist" (smiling profusely)- Slow down, look slightly interested, listen to question and answer.
The poor old Bear. Got his ego hurt several times.
Tip: "boy journalists" must slick hair and wear suits when embarking on such expeditions.

The general tendency of the public when approached by young "journalists" on MG road:
Listen politely, smile, laugh at "journalist's" stupid jokes, be altogether quite pleasant and charming.

The general tendency of the public when approached by young "journalists" in Gandhibazaar:
General Fly-Swatting motions with hands, vehement protests, saying they're "not interested", altogether distasteful and purely miffing off behaviour.

7. Always always sneak a bite to eat while on the job.
So far, I've had:
2 one-by-two lime juices. (Silly we are, Jay and me)
The contents of Su2's lunch dabba in the back table of a restaurant so they couldnt find us out.
A strawberry-vanilla softy of which the Other MM had half.
A burger when I wasnt hungry, and when the place was "out of current" and "out of stock" on french fries and icecream, to the Tenzen's disgust.

8. The above rule applies at all times and situations, unless the places you've gone to in order to source information, are on the slightly saner side, and they politely (albeit shoe licking-ly) offer you nice cups of coffee in cute little ethnic mugs and saucers.

9. I've learned to keep out of my "mentor's" hair. Nasty it is, and styled differently everyday.

10. I've learned that some people are just plain DUMB. (refer upcoming posts)

Cows, man! They're FUNNY!

Funnier than chickens even!
In fact, the cow is the new chicken.

Why did the cow cross the road?

I have been well aware of the cow-funnier-than-chicken phenomenon for quite a bit and now the world has caught on.

Seen the somewhat recent Orbit White ad? Excuse me while I roll about on the floor laughing.
Focus on: cow
"In the before due to yellow teeths our volunteer was too much unpopular."
Doctor gives cow Orbit White.
"Now due to white teeths she is getting too much marriage proposal"
Cow looks happy.
Doc shows viewers pictures of cow's new found prospects.
Focus on: Picture of bull with punk hair do.
"See the haaaaaandsome!"

Picks out picture of particular prospect.
Shows earnestly to cow.
"See Aufrican Black bull. Fully vaccinated."

Orbit White... It's VURKING!"

Hahahahahahahahahahaha!!! ha ha!
The doctor's english has worsened.

Watch it, watch it!

Check this out: A forward I got from GS (her rays reach everywhere, they do) that had me laughing. The Japanese one is the best.

You have two cows.
You sell one and buy a bull.
Your herd multiplies and the economy grows.
You retire on the income.

You have two cows.
You worship them.

You don't have any cows.
You claim that the Indian cows belong to you.
You ask the US for financial aid,
China for military aid,
Britain for warplanes,
Italy for machines,
Germany for technology,
France for submarines,
Switzerland for loans,
Russia for drugs and
Japan for equipment.
You buy the cows with all this and claim of exploitation by
the world.

You have two cows.
You sell one and force the other to produce the milk of
four cows.
You profess surprise when the cow drops dead.
You put the blame on some nation with cows & say that naturally
that nation will be a danger to mankind.
You wage a war to save the world and grab the cows.

You have two cows.
You go on strike because you want three cows.

You have two cows.
You re-engineer them so that they live for 100 years, eat
once a month and milk themselves.

You have two cows.
They are both mad.

You have two cows.
You don't know where they are.
You break for lunch.

You have 5000 cows, none of which belong to you.
You charge others for storing them.

You have two cows.
You re-design them so that they are one-tenth the size
of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk.
You then create cute cartoon cow images called Cowkimon
and market them worldwide.

You have two cows.
You have 300 people milking them.
You claim full employment, high bovine productivity and
arrest anyone reporting the actual numbers.


You have two cows.
You count them and learn you have five cows.
You count them again and learn you have 42 cows.
You count them again and learn you have 17 cows.
You give up counting and open another bottle of Vodka

Cows man, I'm telling you. They're in

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Bizarre- Tap Thieves

We got robbed. Yes.
Somebody stole a tap. From our terrace.
Its true. I'm not lying.
From our terrace, a tap.

So in the evening, my dad and I are sitting and watching TV when my mom hollers from upstairs "Is the pump on? I can hear water."
We check, and it isn't, so my dad and I decide to investigate.
We go up to the terrace and find that its flooded. Confused, we wade our way over to the tap... or where the tap used to be. Because now there isn't one. We stare for a couple of minutes wondering why the hell someone would steal a tap. We look incredulously at one another to see if the other has come up with any sort of plausible explanation. Neither of us have, so we look back at the tap.

My dad decides to deal first with the immediate problem. How to get the water to stop. Thats pretty easy for someone with some common sense, and my dad has a lot of it. So he goes over, locates the pipe from the sump which is providing water to the tapless outlet and turns the rusted main tap thingy off. "We'll have to get a plug for this." he says, straightening up.

Now onto to HOW the thief managed this feat. We find at the scene of the crime, a black tube like structure, about a metre long and slighty curvy. Could he have used this? Its quite possible, although we cannot, for the love of god, figure out how.

How had he gotten on to the terrace in the first place?
Had he shinnied up the coconut tree and somehow catapulted himself the 7 feet up to the terrace? Was he capable of climbing up sheer walls without any holds or supports? Perhaps he used a rope. Perhaps he could fly. We'll never know.

All we know is: its gotta be difficult. Its gotta take a lot of time, energy, effort and creativitiy to get on to our terrace other than through the door that leads there.

And all this, for a tap.

He must be desperate, poor chap.
Or a raving lunatic.
Why didn't he switch the water off at least?
Probably a vindictive, malicious guy with no respect for the environment.
Perhaps he's a klepto.
Or just unhinged (God, insanity scares you more than anything else doesnt it? Its the absence of logic and rationality, I suppose thats scary.)

Bottom line, we must be wary. (Mommy, I'm scared!)

Tap thieves could be all around us.
Be careful. Be very very careful.

Saturday, April 21, 2007

For the Want of Some Cotton Wool

Some airline services are just no good.
Such as the one we used to travel to Mumbai a week ago.
The planes are tiny and they dont give you anything to eat! (loud annoying whiny tone)

The thing with me is, whenever I travel to Mumbai (there and nowhere else) my ears pop, leaving me unable to hear anything above the range of 5 dB for at least 2 days. This time, since I would be staying there only 4, and I didnt want to appear to seem to be a retard for half my trip, I decided I'd ask one of the competant stewardesses they keep talking about, for some cotton wool.

Sadly, all I got was a rather daft looking steward.
I noticed that he looked rather lost and anxious. Perhaps this is his first flight, I think. Let me be extra nice to him, so that he is uplifted and encouraged to do better in his career.

"Hello" I say, giving him my warmest smile, and pausing to receive the grateful and relieved smile I was sure he'd give back.
No smile.
Mine slowly melts, and drips off my face.

"What can I get for you madam?" he says in robotic tones.

By then I'm already muttering rude curses under my breath at the waste of that smile, but I control myself and say. "Some cotton wool please."

He stares blankly. Thinking he mustnt have heard, I repeat myself.

"Can I have some cotton wool please?"

This time the answer comes out pat:

I stare at him in the face. This is not proper stewardly behaviour.
He looks back eyes glazed. I can almost see the wheels turning.

Flashback to training school.
What was the one thing his teacher told him that he must always remember as a steward? The one thing...
Aha! That the parachute's located behind the left door! No... no... wait, thats not it.
Ah, now I remember. Always comb your hair. Every morning. Without fail. He reaches to his head before realises that that wasnt it either.

Yes, now it dawns on him. Always be polite to passengers, even if they are annoying 19 year olds who want cotton wool.

He returns to earth with a plasticky smile.
"I'm sorry ma'am, we dont have any on board."

I return the plasticky smile.
"Really? How unfortunate."

Pleased at his adeptness at handling the situation, the steward walks away. I mutter curses the rest of the flight. And spend the first half of my trip nodding and smiling when anyone said anything I couldnt hear, and then changing my expression based on the kind of reaction that got.

Friday, April 20, 2007

Crazy Things We've Done

*Laughs loudly and reminisces*

It was 7th standard kannada class. We had this huge and immensely complex Kannada lesson on the Mahabharatha. Its contents have always been very vague to me, to this date I do not have a clear picture about what it was on.
But the main character was Abhimanyu, and it involved a chakra of some sorts: a war tactic, some kind of formation the army was made to get into.

Well, anyway, there was a war on in our class as well. It was Girls Vs Boys (snots, they thought they were better than us).

Our Kannada teacher was smart. She got a sense of the whole class war and decided to tap into this energy by dividing the class into a girls team and a boys team, each of which were required to perform the play described in the lesson (with exact dialogues and everything) for our project marks. Thought she'd spur us on to greater heights.
Sadly this was not to be.

I was Karna. That was because I'd begged them to let me have a role that involved no speaking.
Once I was granted this role, I relaxed. There was nothing of great importance that I had to do, I could just wing it. I let the others worry about logistics, and figured they would tell me what I had to do on stage closer to the time.

Unfortunately, we were rather unorganised lot, and so it wasnt surprising that on the day of the play, during short break, we ended up screaming at each other, trying to remember who was supposed to be playing whom. Once I had established the fact that I was Karna, and I had collected the bows and arrows (our only props I think), I sat back and watched as everyone slowly gave up the hope that we could plan the whole thing out in the next five minutes. We decided that we'd just have to go on stage and pray that it would end soon.

Class started. With smug looks, Arun's group ascended the stage. They had gotten themselves gold crowns and cool costumes. At our group no one even knew their dialogues. We watched in horror. I mean, we knew they were going to be better than us, just not this much better.

They finished. Receieved applause and praises from ma'am and glares and rude faces (which they returned) from us.

Then it was time for us to go on stage. I really and truly hadnt the foggiest idea what was going on.
Some kind of fight ensued on stage, and I realised (thanks to a lot of non verbal communication from members of our group who were on the stage), that we were all supposed to be participating in it.

I grabbed a bow and climbed valiantly on. Kalvathy ma'am was NOT amused.
There were at least 5 people on stage I think. I sidled my way over to the extreme left of the stage and attempted to look as if I knew what was going on. I could tell I wasnt very convincing Decided that I'd just finish my part in the play by shooting a couple of arrows, and then make my way off the stage.

Thing is, I didnt know how to use my bow. I experimented a bit on stage, but no way I held it felt right. The string away from me? No. Towards me? How do I shoot the arrow then?
I realised there was no use trying to figure it out right then, so i just limply held the bow, and sort of CHUCKED the arrow at the first person I saw (who was unfortunately fighting for the same side as me).

Kalavathy ma'am was NOT impressed. I could FEEL her glares reaching accross to me. And I chose that unfortunate moment to be plagued by sudden and inexplicable bouts of uncontrollable laughter, so I decide that now would be a good time to die, and get the hell off the stage. So I pretend I've gotten hit, by one of the more efficient arrows that the other side has, and drag myself off the stage, laughing, amidst all the confusion.

You should have seen Kalavathy ma'am's face. Karna wasnt supposed to DIE! Or drag himself off the battle field! Or laugh as death slowly approached him!

The play ended in chaos, with the actors in a confused muddle on the side of the stage. There was no applause, only the shocked faces of the scandalised boys and the angry face of Kalavathy ma'am looming upon us.

Sigh, such an easy win it was for Arun and the boys!
And Kalavathy ma'am, yowch, was she angry! What fiery looks of wrath she gave us!
But it was all worth it, I think, for the amount of laughs its given me through the years. :D

Monday, April 9, 2007

The Nimhans Road

Its a nice place to pass on your way to college everyday.
Wide, bright, full of trees and rustic somehow. I like.

Right now the pavements on the sides are carpetted with yellow flowers. It looks amazing. Really does.
Most of the trees on this road are flower-bearing ones. Purple, pink and yellow this road was a couple of weeks ago.

During the night however, things are slightly different. There are no street lights, or if there are, the trees prevent much of the light from making its way down to you. Its then that you remember that this road houses a mental hospital. Its gloomy, quiet and slightly scary.

During the day it feels like a research institute. A place of learning, of science.
At night it feels like a scene from a horror movie.
Context, is so important.

Sunday, April 8, 2007

The Ungrammatical Things That Were Said That Tuesday

Here's one of them:
"He doo's that!" or something to that effect.
See, I forgot.
Forgot that there was such a word as 'does' in the English Language. 'Does', just didnt sound right, you know?
A terrible blunder to make isnt it?
And I said it again, despite the shocked expression I was getting from Snum. Thought she wasnt hearing correctly or something (she can be kind of thick at times).
"He doo's that! He doo's! What . . . wh . . what? Snum? Are you alright? Are you having some kind of weird attack?"
All I can say in my defense is, it hasnt ever happened before. And that sometimes brains um.. (faltering slightly) . . . short circuit, and stuff so . . . (decides to stop here before she says anything even more foolish)

Thankfully Bestest said a lot of foolish things which more than made up for my utter lack of brains. :-)

Here are a few of them...
She started off with:
1. My skull is frozen!
(yes, yes, you are thinking right. It was surgically removed, then placed in ice.)

Next she said:
2. I didn't commented.
(Really, she didnt. She also didn't knew she had made a mistake when she said that, until I, in between loud guffaws, told her. Very similar to the "He doo's!" incident.)

And last of all, she told me:
3. I ate gingerbread with cheese at Pizza Hut.
(And it said "Run, run, as fast as you can! You cant catch me, I'm the gingerbread man!"
Just before a large bestest bite silenced it.)


Need I say anything more?
(And what I mean by that is, I'd better not, in case in a tongue of the slip, I say something utterly stupid again

dang it!)

First Earnings

I'm earning! Who'd've thunk it?! :D Its a good good feeling.

You're wondering what I did with the money arent you?

Yes, I spent it already, what do you take me for? (rolls eyes)

Well, the first thing I did was, I went and bought a distilled water-containing contrivance for the scullery. Yes.

Okay fine.
So it was a water container. A plain old large steel water container for the kitchen. You cant blame me for wanting it to sound more exciting.

I wanted to give something back to the house, see? I feel like I'm contributing now. Hurray! I'm all grown up! Like I said, good feeling.

I think I shall blow up the remaining cash on a movie or five. Or on my niece and nephews, the darlings. (Best to be nice to them now, you know, before they grow up and become all bratty)

The MM of a week ago would be wanting to save it, open an account.
Who knows, perhaps I shall.

Wednesday, April 4, 2007

Osh and Snum: The War of the Words

They're fighting. Its getting irritating. I mean, come on already.

Over words. Their meanings. Their pronunciations. Their usage in everyday conversation.
I mean, come on. Who fights about words?

(Ok, maybe I used to. Maybe I was the pioneer of all word fights. Maybe my every second was occupied in etymology and arguements. Maybe. But lately, I have changed. And since I have lightened up considerably, I no longer engage in this stressful pass time.)

So far, its 2 to Osh, 1 to Snum.

"The battle is lost," said Snum movingly. "But we shall see about the war." (noble expression)

Yes, we shall indeed.

Tuesday, April 3, 2007


Guess what I did.
Go on, guess. (This blog is interactive.)

Ok, so we have our psychology exam right? Well, I havent studied at all. Much. 10.30- 11.20pm the night before, and 7.30- 8.20 am on the morning of it.
So anyway, surprisingly, I'm not freaked. I'm just not bothered. It was probably some kind of psychoanalytical defense mechanism. Repression, I suppose. I got up at 6am. Knew I hadnt studied. Yet forced myself to sleep again. It was only at 7.30 that I actually realised, not in full magnitude, but slightly, how I hadnt studied for an exam that was happening in a matter of 2 hours.
Anyway, I get there, sit in the exam hall and everything. And I'm drawing lines. Margins. We are explicitly instructed to by our teachers. Anyway, the booklet is huge. Its taking forever. I begin to daydream whilst I draw (which can undoubtedly be explained by Arousal Theory of Motivation).

Suddenly, I am awakened from my Passive State of Light Consciousness, and I notice that no one around me is drawing lines. They're all scribbling furiously.
But we havent got the paper yet
! I think.
I wonder why they're taking so long to fill up the info on the first page. I sit and watch in fascination as Sk writes. (She keeps her mouth open in a rather fascinating manner as she writes, its fun to watch, you should sometime.)
I stare around for 5 minutes. Out the window, at Rampaging Bull's dupatta (which is a scream of vibrant colours that kept me hypnotised for a bit). Then realise everyone's still writing.

I get a little perturbed when I glimpse something that looks like a question paper in front of Sk.
I point at it and whisper. "Question Paper?"
She looks up, mouth still open, and nods.
"Yours?" I ask, stupidly.
Mouth still open, nods.

I look around for mine. On the table, floor, my lap. It nowhere.
Then I realise I havent got it. Desperately signal to the invigilator to give me one.
He looks confused. Apparently, he is not adept at Common Sense Sign Language.

"Ay, what you want man?" (I'm not one, but I let it pass)
"Question Paper sir."
"Where is yours ya?"
" I...uh... dont have one sir." (apologetic tone... it works wonders with teachers like these)
"Dont have eh?" he says as he bustles around trying to find the extra.

Meanwhile, I check my watch to see how much time I'd lost.
My watch says that its 2:43.
Not very helpful.

The invigilator bustles up with a rather reprimanding look on his face.
"What ya? Cant tell or what?"
"I didnt ...erm... realise... sir" I falter
"Its 9.45 ya!"
More faltering.
"Okay. Its alright. I'll give you 10 minutes extra"

A smothered giggle from TheQuickOne.
People in the vicinity are mighty entertained.
With a quick blush at my ridiculousness, I look down and begin scribbling.

How did I not realise people were getting the question papers? How could I have missed that? Where was I? Did I black out or something? Was I transported to some different dimension for that brief space of time? Abducted by aliens?
Whatever happened?