Sunday, December 2, 2012

Pizza Toppings

The Kukkur family was a middle-class one. There were three members, Samrat Kukkur, his wife Sattori Kukkur, and their son Sukkul.

Samrat owned an export business and was doing pretty well for himself and his family. It could be said that success was starting to get into his head.

Anyways, Sattori had been at Samrat’s case of late. She wanted a house servant. She said she was tired of all the chores and would like a servant at her command, especially now that they could afford one.

Soon, the Kukkurs hired an 11-year old boy. Not bothering about the original name of the boy, they named him Gadhesh.

Gadhesh, of course, belonged to a poor family. He had come from a village in Rajasthan and had moved to Delhi when he was 10-years old.

Anyways, the Kukkurs did not treat him well. Sattori kept Gadhesh busy throughout the day with the household tasks while she stayed glued to the television.

At the same time, Samrat would come home in the evening and scold Gadhesh for no rhyme or reason. 

...

One day, the Kukkurs ordered pizza. They had tried pizza just recently and had taken an instant liking to it.


As their usual routine went, they sat on the dinner table and started eating from the boxes, while Gadhesh watched from the corner.

Samrat asked if Gadhesh wanted a slice, and that brought a big smile on the servant’s face. However, Samrat removed all the toppings from Gadhesh’s slice before handing it over. He put all the toppings on his wife’s share.

Gadhesh felt bad. But he did not think much and enjoyed his share. 



After a week, the Kukkurs ordered pizza again. The same old routine followed. They sat and started feasting, and Gadhesh watched, this time in anticipation.

The servant’s stares annoyed Samrat.

He took a slice and removed all the topping. Next, he removed most of the cheese. Then, he handed it over to Gadhesh.

This annoyed Gadhesh. He said he wanted the toppings, which angered Samrat big time.

Samrat, in a fit of anger, spat on the slice and then offered it to Gadhesh. “Here’s your topping, you uneducated fool”, he said.

Gadhesh started crying. He probably continued the entire night… and ran away from the house the very next morning.

Gadhesh found another job soon, this time a much better family.

He worked pretty hard for the next 10 years. He worked in houses and did a bit of repair jobs as well.

In the process, he even picked a little English and started earning decently to keep himself going. Most importantly, he learned from his friend how to ride a bike. It was important for him.

Truth is, while working hard all these years, Gadhesh always had an aim. An ambition!

His friend had once casually asked him about it. And all Gadhesh said was, “I want to become a pizza delivery boy”. His friend could not control the laughter. He said, “are you mad?

Of course, I am insane”, said Gadhesh. And he laughed too. 



A few months later, when he thought the time was right, Gadhesh went to a specific pizza parlor and applied for the job of a delivery boy. As he’d expected with his skills, he got it!

He knew his time would come soon. All he had to do now was to wait.

And soon enough, he got the opportunity. He was handed a couple of boxes to be delivered to a house, a few kilometers away. The bill on the boxes bore the name ‘Samrat Kukkur’. 

 

Ting Tong

Sir, your pizza”.

Thanks, how much?

Seven-Hundred Twenty-Four

Here you go… keep the change 

Soon, the family finished all the boxes. They loved it!

..
...
.....
......

Little did they realize that all the toppings had been polished with chunks of saliva.
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This post was written by me as part of 34th Blog-a-Ton. It fetched me no votes. Rightly. And as expected. :)

Friday, November 9, 2012

Microsoft Mouse

I recently acquired a cool Microsoft Mouse.

I say acquired because my office paid for it. It's a nice wireless mouse that works on rough surfaces as well.

And this post is not promoting the mouse device. Instead, I want to divert your attention to the 'Hindi' translation for the user instructions printed on the pack. Take a look:


Well, well well! Kya chakkar hai bhai?

Do the instructions take your mind elsewhere?

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Celebrations

It’s was my friend’s birthday, two days ago,
He invited me to the party, how could I say no?
Free beer, free food, free everything, ho ho ho,
“I would drink and drink, non-stop till I throw”

It was a happening pub, the time was eight,
I got ready in time; I didn't want to be late,
How could I make, the ‘free’ stuff wait?
So I entered, and headed to the table straight,

I said my hi hellos quickly, and looked at the menu,
“Vodka shots for me; and some fish fingers too,”
And my same old journey began, but it looked so new,
The only breaks in journey, were the visits to the loo,

After a few rounds of vodka, then came the beer,
I cared only for my glass, not for the people near,
And so I kept sinking low in my high, nothing to fear,
Nor did I care for the car, which I was supposed to steer,

I was getting disoriented, but I did not stop,
When everything’s free, who wants to drop?
And I continued my way, mutton chop after chop,
With my beer mug getting filled, top after top,

Pretty soon I lost my senses, all of them I guess,
I was not a human any more, just a stupid mess,
I wanted to care more, but I couldn't care less,
Instead of a friend to my friends, I became a stress,

They dropped me home, god knows how,
As I kept puking everywhere, like shit I feel now,
My stomach’s been crappy; it’s the time to take the vow,
“Oh god! Please forgive me, in front of you I bow”

Never again, never again… never never again,
Neither free, nor paid, not even in bargain,
Will not abuse my body, will not subject it to pain,
And if I ever do it again, I deserve to be in a drain!

But… I think sometimes I would want to make an exception,
Maybe at a friend’s marriage… or even the reception?

This post was written by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton. It fetched me 3 votes :) 

Sunday, October 7, 2012

An Untold Story

Long, long ago, in an obscure village in central India, there used to be a man named Haiyya Joos. He was a poor farmer, probably the poorest in the village. In a time where his fellow villagers boasted of multiple cows and buffaloes, Haiyya owned just a goat.

To add to his woes, the goat did not even give milk properly. Moreover, the money spent on feeding the goat was quite high. In total, life was not good for Haiyya!

Being a single parent, Haiyya’s only glimmer of happiness was supposed to be his son Kan. We say ‘supposed’ because Kan never could relate with his parent’s poverty. Instead, Kan always longed for toys and other forms of amusement. Which, obviously, Haiyya could not afford.

One day, a fourteen-year-old Kan asked his father to buy a car. Haiyya was amazed at how stupid his son was. They had been in a persistent state of poorness. They always struggled to get the required number of meals a day. And here, his son Kan wanted him to buy a car.

At first, Haiyya thought that his son might be joking. However, Kan repeated the talk about buying a car the next day. And then Haiyya thought Kan had totally lost it. Probably, Kan had always been a retard and just that Haiyya did not notice. Haiyya explained to Kan that they did not have that kind of money and Kan should make do with whatever his dad gave him. Kan was disappointed.

Days passed by and the usual routine followed in Haiyya’s house. Haiyya worked very hard every day to earn just enough to provide himself, his goat, and his son some food. He always had the regret that he was never able to get Kan to go to school. Kan’s days were usually spent playing around the house. And even spending his daily allowance on something or the other. Kan would never save any money.

One day. Kan returned home from his play and ran straight to Haiyya. And the next thing he said made his dad’s jaws drop big time. Kan asked his father for money to buy a house. This was becoming extremely crazy now. Haiyya said “sure”. He took Kan inside and asked him to fetch a stick.

Then, what followed was brutal assault that one would never wish for anyone. Haiyya hit Kan real bad. Then, Haiyya made him make a promise. Kan, almost dizzy and shit scared, agreed. The promise was that Kan would never spend money until really required. Moreover, Kan was to try and save money in whatever form possible. And this way, Haiyya thought Kan would be better prepared for life.

Years passed! The same village now boasted of residing the biggest miser of all times. It looks like Haiyya’s beating took a real effect. Kan would just not spend! He helped his dad with his work, earned little, and saved. But Kan did not spend. There would be days when Kan skipped meals just to save some food. He had become a maniac.

In the village, whenever someone behaved in a stingy manner, people referred to him or her as Kan. Such was Kan’s fame.

One fine day, Kan fell ill. He ran a very high fever. Very, very high. He told his dad he would not be able to help him that day. Haiyya wished him well and left for work.

Kan needed a medicine badly, but he decided to save it. He just lay in his bed the whole day. Also, he ruled out visiting a doctor completely. At least, not until he had some more complaints such as cold, headache etc. That way, he could get treated for multiple things with just one fee to the doctor.

Such was his desire to save… rather, NOT spend.

And this is the untold story about how the word “Kan-Joos” came into being.

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This post was written by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton. I felt the idea behind the post was very good, but the execution was very poor. The ending was quite abrupt and the idea got wasted. Excuse: did not get time to write. Ha :) The post fetched me two votes, two more than I expected :) 

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Strangers in the Night

We both were happy, and the time was right,
So we decided to marry, we were confident quite,
Our parents met, and they gelled alright,
They fixed the date and sealed our plight,


The month was Feb, and the sky was bright,
The arrangements were nice, a pretty sight,
She looked amazing, a walking dynamite,
And I was nervous, looking back in hindsight,


I brought her home, and we started just right,
But soon… things became bad, and tantrums became trite,
Words turned bitter, and little quarrels began to bite,
Looking back at the things now, I turn contrite,


We were falling apart; no longer did we remain tight,
Everything was misunderstood, prejudiced without insight,
The rudeness to each other grew to a great height,
It looked like the marriage was getting into a twilight,


Four years later…


Four years have passed, for each other we still hold spite,
But we’ve a child now, so we can’t afford things uptight,
So, for him, we pretend like a couple in broad daylight,
But when we sleep, we are two strangers in the night.

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This post had been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 31; the thirty-first edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. The theme for the month was 'Strangers in the Night'. The post fetched me just 2 votes (poor performance) :) 
To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Monday, August 27, 2012

Fraud रजनी

रजनीकान्त गए अमिताभ के घर,
और उनसे बोले 'oye बच्चन sir'

Media में बन गया है यह राज़ गहरा,
कैसा होगा तेरी पोती का चेहरा,

कैसी दिखती है वो, ज़रा मुझे तो दिखा,
क्या खिला के पाल रहे हो, ज़रा मुझे तो सिखा
,

ऐश्वर्या को बोल घर आये है रजनी अंकल,
रसोई में जा और थोड़े पकोड़े तो तल,

और तू ले आ बच्ची को मेरे पास,
ज़रा में भी सुनूँ उसकी गू-गू बकवास,


(अमिताभ बच्ची लाते है)

यार अमिताभ यह तो है बहुत प्यारी,
खूबसूरती है इसमे दुनिया की सारी,

यह ले कैमरा, और खींच हमारी pic,
और अच्छी खींचना, and be quick,

टाटा बाय बाय, अब चलता हूँ जी,
बच्ची का ध्यान रख तू बिग बी,


(चार दिन बाद)


ऐश्वर्या की बच्ची कि फोटो के निकले टीवी पे views
रजनीकान्त के न्यूज़ चैनल की है breaking news!!

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Don't Care

That Christmas eve, nine years old, 
Thousands were killed; they weren't even told.

And today...

A massive earthquake has jolted the earth,
And massive waves have been given a birth,

The coastal areas have been sounded a warning,
They should expect a Tsunami by tomorrow morning,

Yes! Tsunami! The killer waves,
And when they strike, only God saves,

Well, the giant waves are expected soon,
God knows what this place looks like, tomorrow noon,

It's sunset time, and the coast is empty,

The people are gone, in heaps and plenty,

But... Hey! Wait a minute!

Some people are walking toward the beach,
All warnings and dangers, they intend to breach,

They must go back, it's not at all safe now,
Against the nature's might, they must learn to bow,





I shout at them, 'are you all mad?'
Go away right now, or the consequences will be sad,

An elder from the group, shouts back at me,
'Son! This is exactly where we want to be,'

'This may be the last sunset, this beach gets to see,'
'And now that we are here, so do we...'
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This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 30. The title for the edition was the image. The post fetched me 4 votes (many more than I expected). To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Positions on Bed



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Sunday, April 1, 2012

That Last Night

Hello! My name is Mister Teeju,
And my age is fifty plus two,
Happy life I have... says who?
Let me tell you what is true,

My wife’s name is Miss Tippani,
Pretty woman, soft voice, said many,
She’s a lovely housewife, unlike any,
Even though we don’t have enough money,

But the problem… is not really her,
Instead… it’s our damn daughter,

Daughter’s name is Girja,
She is like a lady ninja,

She is 24 years old,
Rude, and very very cold,

Since we survived under financial restriction,
Between us there was a lot of friction,


Ok! So, what happened that last night?
Well, Girja and I had another fight,
And, as usual, I was always right,
But she kept shouting at me inspite,

We had gone together to drop her mom to a train station,
On the way back, Girja asked money for makeup and foundation,
What the hell, I thought… and I said no, in frustration,
She yelled at me; it felt like attending my own cremation,

I shouted back at her, “You rude girl,”
“Just for money, such abuses you hurl?”

“I will not give you anything till you behave,”
“I am your father, and some respect I crave,”

Girja said, "Ha ha ha ha, you a father?”
"You are a miser, live without you I rather"

I got shocked… and shouted, "Okay, I will die",
And she laughed again, seeing me almost cry,
We reached home, and I decided something I had to try,
So, I reached for the rope, it was time to tie,

I decided to commit suicide by hanging myself from the fan,
Not serious, all drama, that's the best I can,
To make Girja realize that she needs to respect the old man,
I came up with a farcical suiciding plan,

I thought… seeing me trying to hang myself, she will hate,
And just when I’m about to, she will shout, “Hey, wait”,

So, I made all arrangements, the fan, the stool, and the rope,
I had to act well, well enough to look someone without any hope,

And when I was ready, I shouted her name,
I knew that now on, things won't be the same,

She entered my room with her usual attitude,
And saw me standing at some altitude,
A rope around my neck, my escape from the feud,
Her expressions changed, she no more looked rude,

She shouted “WAITTTTT”, looked like she really meant,
And trying to look serious, a listening ear I lent,
On my table were a pen and a notepad, toward them she went,
And asked me loudly, “What's the number for our insurance agent?”

I could not control myself; this was not at all fun,
And I shouted… 9-8-7-3-2, five triple one,

She did not write anything, threw the pen and the notepad,
And I thought she finally realized the worth of her dad,

Then, she rushed toward me like an emotional fool,
But when she reached… she kicked the stool.

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This post had been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 26; the 26th Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. The topic for the month was 'That Last Night'.

There were 27 entries...
...and with 6 votes, I ranked second in the competition. :)


Thursday, March 8, 2012

Beta, Jai Kar Ke Dikha

Does the title ring any bells?

Have you ever imagined how torturous it must be for our kids? Okay, do one thing. Pause for a moment and think of a child (6 months - 2 years) you have seen. Of course, it could be your child as well.

Do you remember the child performing different 'acts' for you on the orders of his/her parents? Or, did you teach your infants crazy little things that serve no useful purpose but to show off how bright they are... or how entertaining they can get?

I mean what the heck.

Consider these:

  • बेटा, जय कर के दिखा
  • बता दे किसका बेटा है? 
  • बता दे Doggy कैसे भौंकता है
  • Fan कहाँ है?
  • खासी कर के दिखा  
  • पिट्टी कर के दिखा  
  • बेटा नमस्ते कर दे एक बार 
  • Nosy nosy कहाँ है?

...and so on!

I mean... what is all this? Even if you have taught the poor little infants some wacko stuff that includes barking like a dog, why would you want the kid to perform in front of strangers? Because it gets extremely entertaining to look at them doing all that stuff? But what about them?

Do you ever wonder how retarded these kids look doing stuff like that? I know they look cute... but the acts are retarded mostly.

The other day I heard someone ordering the child... beta, aaai-koj karke dikha... And I wondered what it meant till the child showed the demo of 'eyes-close'. Oh! Wonderful. The poor little kid will now feel embarrassed in nursery when the teacher will ask him to close the eyes... and the kid wouldn't know what that means. He only knows how to koj the aaai.

And do you wonder what they must be going through repeating the same old stupid acts infinite number of times day in and day out?

It must be hard for them.

Well, I know that is probably how the learning process begins for them... but please. At least, make them do some sensible stuff. Make them solve some Maths problems. Probably I was made to do that... and that's why I am writing like a retaaaaard.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Wyn Will I learn?

I want to give you an account of something that happened day before yesterday. I was supposed to leave for Bangalore for an official visit.

Too early to digress, but I need to tell you something about myself here. There's a thing I do, and I don't know what to call a person who does it.

Well, I try to save money everyPOSSIBLEwhere... only to be able to spend in heaps wherever I want. So, for example, if I were just hanging out, extremely thirsty... I would NOT buy a bottle of water... and prefer to stay thirsty till I get home. At the same time, I could spend lots and lots on food.

Back to my Bangalore trip. After having thought of numerous possibilities of reaching the airport at low costs, I realized that nothing but a cab would work. Duh... as if it was some rocket science.

Well, the most popular cabs in Delhi are Meru Cabs and Easy Cabs. Both very professional I think. And both charge rupees 20 a kilometer in addition to some 40 or 50 bucks as convenience charge. Well, that's a lot! So, I, being myself, started searching for a cab service that would charge lesser than that.

After some consideration, I finalized on calling Wyn cabs. They charge 15 a kilometer and don't take any convenience charge. Alright, sounds good till here. The cab was booked for 1:45 p.m. The calculation was simple - I start from home at 1:45, reach airport by 2:45, check in maximum by 3:15, and wait for about an hour for my 4:20 flight! The checkin gates were scheduled to close around 3:35... so the plan was okay, I thought!

When the time was 1:45, I had my wife call Wyn cabs... only to realize that a new driver had been assigned to me. They gave us the number for the driver. When I called him, he said he'd reach in 10 minutes. Okay! There goes for a toss some part of the buffer in my plan. Anyways, it turned out that the 10 minutes were 'Indian' 10 minutes, and the driver took 25. I got a bit nervous but thought we'll make up for the lost time by driving a bit fast.

So, we started at 2:15, about an hour and 20 minutes from the checkin closing time.

Phew!

The driver looked friendly... until the time he started driving at 60-70km/hr... on a combination of second and third gear! Can you believe it? For those who drive, you know what I'm saying, right?

To add to the situation, he started driving like a crazy lunatic mad weirdo! He was doing a bit of zigzag in decent traffic... where it wasn't quite possible. And to add, on a road without the divider, he was over and over again going into the lane meant for the oncoming traffic. At one point of time, I started holding on really tight to whatever was available. He was actually driving like a crazy man. Now you may say I could have stopped him... but there probably was a part of me that was having cheap thrills simultaneously.

He continued his ways for another minute... and then banged into a car. B-A-N-thud-G-E-D. A Swift was at the receiving end.

wtf!

I was so late for the airport, and my supposedly professional taxi driver banged the car into another. I knew that was it! I'd not be able to catch the flight. All sorts of combinations of next available flight and justifiable excuses started doing rounds in my head. Just then I realized this psycho was doing a hit-and-run. He started driving away from the crime scene... and I got him to stop immediately. I asked him not to run. The last thing I wanted was the Swift guys to chase us... and then beat the hell out of us.

The crazy wacko looked at me, smiled, and got out of the car. Amazingly, nothing had happened to the Swift. Moreover, the owner didn't even seem interested in making a scene.

So, this guy came back! Yes, the psycho came back. He said the bumper of our car had been cracked, smiled, and started driving again.

And guess what... he started his psychodriving again.

It was the second time in last five minutes that I asked him to stop. He did. I said "let me drive... you don't know how to drive". To which he said... "sure".

And we exchanged places! We did! This is fact, okay... trust me.

So, now, I was driving him to the airport... only to step out of the car and pay him in the end. All I thought was... "heck! I just want to catch the flight".

So, I started driving... through the traffic of Delhi... with a huge Wyn cab sticker on the car. And, you know what this guy did during the journey? Here's him, the psycho!

..
..
.p.
.s..
.y.
.c.
.h.
.o.
.p.
.s..
.y.
.c.
.h.
.o.
..
..

Hell, man! He slept through it. I swear he looked liked the first person extremely deserving to be killed.

I was getting pretty tensed because I was getting late... the traffic was heavy... and I had to drive this shitty cab. And the fact that this guy was sleeping didn't help either.

Anyways, having entered the airport premises, about two minutes away from the departure terminal, I stopped the car. I told him that there would be police ahead and if I'm caught driving a commercial vehicle with a non-commercial license, there would be trouble. To this, he yawned... and said something to the effect of "it's just two minutes... you only drive". @%#%#^$@!

I didn't want to get into any sort of tiff with anyone irrespective of the frustration that had crept for the last one hour... so I again asked him to drive, very politely. He obeyed. We reached airport about 10 minutes before the checkin closed.

I rushed out... got a trolley for the luggage... and asked him how much it was. I had done the mental calculations already - the meter showed 27 kms... which is 405 rupees (15/km). He looked at me cutely and said rupees 420. While placing the luggage on the trolley, I said it should be rupees 405 and not 420. He said "thoda hi upar maanga hai". And I gave him the amount.

So - let's summarize - I drove all the way. I placed the luggage on the trolley. And I even tipped him 15 bucks.

Who's the psycho, now?

While leaving, he looked at me and said he could wait for me just in case I missed my flight. I didn't respond... and neither did I miss the flight.

Meru/Easycabs would have cost me around 650 bucks... this one cost 420. Worth it?

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All the pictures and contents on Dusht-ka-Drishtikone are protected by Copyright Law and should not be reproduced, published or displayed without the explicit prior written permission from the sole author of the blog, Kshitij Khurana.