Everybody Needs Two Extra Hours A day....

There is just not enough time to concentrate on more important issues

Inspired by BiggBoss season 5, the graphic on my blog expresses my deep concern for  peace and harmony in my world and if there were two extra hours, I would love to work on maintaining peace and harmony into this world by pointing out the uselessness of unimportant issues and concentrating on more important things in life.

Entry under  Surf Excel Matic, Get Smart Contest

"Surf Excel Matic #GetSmart Contest" 

Furious Critter

Last night my room-mate Smitha, came running into my room, screaming, “There is a flying cockroach in my room.” She said

“Kill it”, I said

“No! I am afraid, Please come and you kill it” she said

"What are afraid of such a tiny thing? If you were in China you could have sold these by dozens" I said

But actually, I am afraid too. Its very sight is so disgusting, That chocolatee brown body with those menacing whiskers, more ferocious than Ram Gopal Verma film heroes but I was not to show my cowardice in front of my room mate who had great faith in me. She trusted me to solve her problems so I bravely went to the battle field. The cockroach was flying in all directions, a tiny helicopter type species. I armed myself with pesticide spray and stood at one corner of the room, and sprayed from a distance. The spray filtered through my nostrils, I covered my nose and didn’t see cockroach getting furious. It flew in my direction, I heard the whoosh closer to my ears as it brushed against my ear-lobes then flew back in opposite direction and Smitha screamed. I threw the tin on the floor and climbed up on the bed, covering my ears, hopping on the soft bed, lost my balance and down I was on my butt, unable to move. The pesticide was playing its tricks on cockroach too, it fell down next to me on its back with his feet doing the latest aerobics, swinging its tiny feet in the air and spinning round and round.

I slowly crawled a bit further away, so as not to disturb the spinning cockroach. “Your hours are numbered” I told the cockroach showing my tight fist and slid away on my bruised butt away from this critter.

But this one belonged to some Pathan species, very, very strong, had a great will power to survive and would not die easy. It kept swinging its eight arms/feet in such a way that it suddenly turned over and started walking, like a drunkard. Smitha screamed again, “look, it is not dead” she said

“Okay, bring the slippers and kill it now, just crush it under your feet” I said, gritting my teeth, feeling the genes of Naxalites crawling under my skin.

“No! I shall not kill.” she said wriggling her nose, very devoted to her PETA clan

“Kill or it shall walk up to your bed and come and sleep with you” I said trying to instill the fear in her.

“No!” she screamed again as the cockroach turned to walk towards her direction.

She waited far away and watched attentively, following its every movements. TV programs forgotten, hunger vanished and internet was idle. Such undivided, focussed concentration! I think if she meditated on the cockroach for next one hour she might have reached Nirvana.

The critter walked slowly, aimlessly, its wings loosely dragging from its flesh. It seemed like it had wardrobe malfunction. It walked from room to room, parading with caution, until it went under the bed in the living room and disappeared.

Smitha spent the restless night unsure of her safety. When she slept for a little while, she dreamt about the cockroach that had come back with the army of hundred critters to get their revenge.

Early morning, I swept off corpse.

Today I am in a phunny mood!

During my last visit to China, I noticed that nobody smiled and I was thinking are they stressed out? All had tight lips sealed from corner to corner, not a curve anywhere, as if their lips were glued in position and were afraid of some kind of punishment if they dared to smile.

So you would think there is no humor in china

There! You are wrong again.

They have fantastic sense of humor only they don’t see it

But they truly have phunny translator who do justice to our language

Justice to English?

Well! why not?

Have you travelled by bus in China? No?

Then next time you visit China, please do travel by bus and if you are lucky you will be travelling in the same bus as I did, which had this threatening note just above the dashboard.

The bus is running? and I am not supposed to spam seats? How do we spam seats? Mess around? Oh never mind…..

Sitting in stable?…..er..stable? ....I am reminded of horses….

Never spreading arms and body? How do we spread our body outside the window?

I might try to..but my size is not as thin as Chinese size. .maybe they use window to exit from the bus? Er?

Going up and taking off?? Is there some short cut to heaven?

It was my first day in China, first ride and the humor had just begun

I did enjoy my stay in China…the humor was behind those closed lips...humor zipped behind those lips..hahaha.... Lucky lips!

Facebook's colorful drama

Friday morning, while brushing teeth, I checked the mail on my facebook, and the chain mail from three of my friends, with a subject line ‘Cause’, caught my attention, it read:


‘We're playing a little game where every woman on Facebook will type the colour of the bra she is wearing today, (on your status) just the actual colour, nothing else. Forward this to women ONLY and let's see if the men can work out what our game is. Its also to raise the awareness of breast cancer’.

The mail was from my three dear friends and I couldn't ignore it (neva). I was hesitant at first, not wanting to disclose something in an open forum such as FB, but pretending to be on a beach made thing easier and my FB status flashed ‘Sky blue’ while warbling 'Girls just wanna have funn'....

Not sure whether it spread the breast cancer awareness, but it was very, very entertaining. Some of the colors flashed on my friend’s status were hard to believe. Dark purple? Deep red? Hawaian green? Electric blue? Leopard skin, nude? (were they all at the beach???) Teasers!! Interesting though!!. I started making a list of the colors to look for on my next shopping trip.

What was entertaining was the curiosity of men who were perplexed. Reading the updated message on color by one woman would not have bothered them but reading the same message on all the women made them uncomfortable. They squirmed and wriggled, longing to know the secret behind the colors. While they tried to decode the colors, women were having a field day, amused by their innocent comments. The status message such as “What a colorful day”,’ What’s with a women in black, white, yellow’ We cross-posted on our friend’s status teasing each other, with 'smiley', 'grin', 'ha-ha' as comments which made them curious even more, till some spy peeped into his spouse’s inbox to know the secret.

We knew that somebody has finally cracked the code when we read, “All plans to keep Facebook safe for the whole family are going bust” followed by ” Police in Iran are cracking down on Facebook activism today. Once their true colours are revealed, the guilty will not be let off the hook.” hmmn!

As the day progressed, more and more men discovered the secret and they played along, posting wittier messages and counter messages that only few understood, till some clumsy spoiler spilled the beans.

FB got flooded with drool…..

Men went back to the messages to get the drift. They fantasized, Googled for bra-images to match the colors, tweeted, how do they get excited by just the color of a garment?? come on, it's just a garment of support for 'do bichare, bina sahare...'

Then started the series of messages that spelled their fantasies, and I lost interest when jokes went too far and the messages started to get uglier and embarrassing…….ekdum nonsenshence.....

Ye kya ho raha hai??????

Al Pitcher came to my town to disappoint me…..

Everybody told me it is hilarious and that I would laugh, Ha, Ha, and maybe roll on the floor, really? So, naturally I was curious. Now, when I go for a play, I don’t compromise on comfort, I need best seats and less distractions and I am willing to spend the money, so here I was paying Rs500 per ticket, to enjoy the show of Al Pitcher. And I was disappointed. What I did not anticipate was that this is a stand-up comedy and it is made on the spot so I risk it because every show is different and most of the jokes can be repeats that I must have heard them several times during the SMS rounds. This guy goes around the city, during the day and clicks the shots of whatever he fancies and during the show he has his wisecracks. His mind is seeing the distorted images and he has an opinion on everything which is also lopsided but maybe not be funny. He showed few shots of watchmen of different buildings and he had an opinion, saw a car covered with a sheet parked in front of gate that showed ‘no parking’ sign, he had a comment to make, saw people at a beach, some ads, some graffiti, made a comments and the comments were not even funny and it were similar to ones I hear the young kids in my building making all the time….. Then he had some stupid jokes to make on anatomy of male parts. He answered some questions that were asked by audience, but they were not funny too. People in audience came for the show with the expectation of being entertained and they did laugh and I tried so hard to laugh too.(tickle, tickle) Wasn’t he supposed to be freewheeling genius and had Midas-like ability to make the most jaundiced audiences see their world anew as it was expressed in Sydney Morning Herald? Am I losing my sense of humor? Paying Rs500 per head for the party of five people to watch this stupid show almost made me cry! sniff! sniff!! img source: googled

Reading a book during my bus trips...

I am reading this book called ‘The Diary of a Social Butterfly by Moni Mohsin, which is quite hilarious and keeps me entertained. The author is a Pakistani and she has used lot of Hindi words (Uff! Itni main exhaust ho gayee hoon, na.) in the book to make it interesting with phrases such as ‘three-tiara cake’ ‘business typhoons’ or ‘slip into a comma….’ Excerpt from page 136: Imagine! The guts! And you know what he looked like? Like one of those clerks, all thin and reedy, who used to quietly, uncomplainingly work for hours and hours in Daddy’s outer office where there used to be only punkhas and no ACs. And now they’ve got cars! And tongues! As daddy says, “Bhutto has a lot to answer for!” Recently some one commented on my thread on a forum of writer's group: He writes - “I've noticed that these days, there are a lot of Indian authors trying their hand at writing, and unfortunately, many of them are really really bad...I only buy their books because I want to encourage Indian authors to write more and more, but their writing is so pathetic...” and now, he might even hold the similar opinion about Pakistani authors. But the fact is that everyday new styles have to be established and people will write what sells and this book is selling. People like to read ‘light stuff’ sometimes and we cannot call them ‘pathetic’ just because they write differently. It is good book to read in a bus trip, when the rush hours drive you crazy and the humor helps keep our sanity.

Go Away! I am Busy!!!!!!

Darn! This doorbell…why must this ring? I hate answering doorbells, especially if it is vegetable seller, fruit seller, sweeper, Phone Company or some stupid courier service. I think I prefer snail mails (although they are extinct now-a-days), What I liked about sanil mail was that they would just drop the letters in my letterbox and I would pick it up whenever I feel like it, but with these couriers that are frequent, I have to get up forcibly, wean myself from this huge screen and attend to this courier fellow, take the post, sign a form and take my unimportant mail that is announcing some silly sale, somewhere in the town. (I must remember not to give my address to these boutiques henceforth) why do I need new clothes? I hardly ever go out. Most of my friends are there on the FB. And they don’t care what I wear, I could be wearing just underclothes for that matter…..…who cares!...arrgh… I get very angry when I am on computer playing word twirl or lexulous, trying so hard to think up of a seven letter word and this stupid door bell rings. Or sometimes I am chatting with my friend on Face book, the conversation that I have on face book (with the person whom I have never met) seems to be more important than the phone call that I receive from a family member. I so badly want to end the conversation on the phone to continue talking with my fingers with a friend on other other end of this cable contact. And today, when I was chatting with one of my FB friend, the doorbell rang again…now I am having very interesting conversation, my friend finds me very friendly and jovial and here the door bell is wacking my brain, and I run to my door to answer before her next chat continues, there is this fisherwoman at the door. She sells the best fish in my building and saves me the trip of going to that stinking fish market, but I am afraid that my FB friend will go offline if I take too long in answering her, so even though I so badly need the fish, I tell her bluntly that I don’t eat fish anymore…and run back to my computer. That conversation with the fisherwoman must have taken me only two minutes (just nodding and repeating “no, no, I really don’t want” just five times) but my friend is already offline! I go back to my door to see if I can buy the fish intead, and she has gone too….darn! I will have to go to fish market or skip the fish meal… This internet illness is really eating off my brains. My pots and pans are getting blacker by day, because I remember to keep tea/veggies on the gas for cooking but forget to take it off when it ready and am reminded only when I can feel the disaster through my nose (my maid suggests that I use pressure cooker, now how do I make tea in pressure cooker?) Everyday I promise myself that I will chop off my habit on the net, but hardly an hour goes by with that promise and I am itching to see the red blinker on FB, and like a zombie I am back on this compu chair, Suddenly this red dot (on the FB) has started haunting me, (some times even in my dreams) I so badly want to see those compliments on my FB walls which I secretly hope that my 200+ friends are also reading and forming a good impression about me… i have lately started feeling very proud of myself, posting notes, tagging people and sending virtual gifts with tight squeaky hugs. I m getting to be popular, but I think I am cut off from my real world. I have not seen nor met my neighbor for more that 15 days, I am thinking of inviting my next door neighbor to the face book, that way I will be able to communicate with her, specially when I m short of one onion or potato and I need to borrow in emergency. my virtual friends will not help me there… See what I mean?????

Sugarless Cheeni Kum

During my visit to Pune this week-end, I went with my cousins for this movie ‘Cheeni Kum’ why this movie is called ‘cheeni kum’, I fail to understand, (some recipe for odd couples) but the film was sugar-coated and entertaining during the first half of the film because of the arrogance and humor of Amitabh and fine acting of Tabu. But it gets boring after the interval, a sip of coffee and munching of popcorn was the only reason why I decided to sit and watch it till the end of the show. During the first half of the movie, umbrella plays an important role in the film, in building up the romance between 34 year old Tabu (nicknamed as ‘Ghas phoos), and 64 year old Amitabh (nicknamed and ‘Tangri kabab’). The borrowing, returning and borrowing back are the escuses for meeting and building up of affection between the egoist chef and a London tourist. The context of mismatched-bigger-than-father-age is the hinge where the story hangs and when the couple fall in love, it is as entertaining to the couple as it is to the audience. Post interval, Paresh Rawal as Tabu’s father is wasted. His humor and his acting skills are wasted by his stubborn satyagraha style fast and his refusal to co-operate to his daughter’s wishes of marrying an elderly man. Amitabh bears a buddy bond with his impish mother Zohra who is constantly nagging him about joining a gym and he shares a unique relationship with a nine-year-old-cancer-patient neighbor who acts as love counselor offering him advice in exchange for adult CD’s. No fighting scenes, but few lyrical songs to entertain yourself and a tangy romance could be the good reason for you to escape from this scorching heat and enjoy this sugarless film in an air-conditioned auditorium.