Damn Phool

Straight to the point!

What is the stupidest thing you have ever done? When do you think were you at your foolest best?

The question brings an incident to my mind. Something from my past. I was in class 6th or thereabouts. There was something I did on one fateful day; it still embarasses me. Just look at me - am getting embarassed while writing this... this... and even this...

So! I wanted to switch the light off  before leaving the room. The moment I was going to do it, a thought struck me. Now, not more but a moment later, I wanted to do it without touching the switch. Fair enough, I say.

So, I removed my chappals and aimed at the switch from a couple of meters. I am not sure about the number of attempts it took, but it was done real quick. The switch was switched off.

You think that could be the stupidest thing I've done? Read on.

The success did not satisfy me. I switched it on again. Next, I wanted to do it without using my hands. Can you guess what followed?

How do I say it? But I'll have to now that I have started it... I sipped a mouthful of water and proceeded toward the switch. Na na, don't get scared yet.

I did what I intended to. The switch was successfully 'OFF'ed again. I had aimed the stream of water at the switch perfectly. To be honest, even today, I am not sure how and why I did not get an electric shock. Not sure of the science that works there.

But, you think that was it? Stupidest of me? Read on.

Apparently, I was still not satisfied. I wanted to do something more with that switch. Supposedly, I wanted to be more imaginative in finding ways for switching it off. And so...

My index finger motioned toward the switch to ON it again, and... within a couple of inches of the switch happened the inevitable.

^&%$%@$%^^^$($!HUGE ELECTRIC SHOCK!&%&(%$*^%)^@#(*

...to mark the stupidest I've been.

Public Ka Choo...ha

Mr. Pugland used to work for an IT company in Delhi. He was originally from Pune but had been in Delhi for 4 years. He lived in a double-room apartment with nominal rent and good neighborhood.

Life had been okay for him until a... came into his life and kept coming back.

One day, after bath, Pugland opened his undergarment drawer and witnessed a horrific scene. The piece of clothing he was going to pick jumped toward him. Yes, jumped! The clothing bounced off Pug's stomach and fell on the ground. Meanwhile, having had this piece of clothing suddenly jump and strike his stomach, Pug took a couple of hasty steps backward. He simultaneously wrapping the bedsheet around his bare body.

Three seconds later, one of the corners of the undergarment moved upward and a mouse appeared. It quite looked like a tourist who'd spent a night in the tent and was lifting a side of the tent to embrace the beauty of the next morning. Duh! The mouse (chooha in Hindi) then ran out to some corner of the house.

'Phew', said Pug! He was happy that it was a mouse. A ghost in an undergarment was never going to be an educated guess.

Next, he ignored the garment that had been floored, wore an alternative, dressed up, and left for office. Little did he know his life had just taken a strange turn.

The following days were not something to speak highly of. The mouse, the stupid little bugger, kept showing up at the most unexpected of places. Shaving kit, vegetable basket, television top, dining table, washing machine... just everywhere. You name a place in the house and the mouse would surely have made a special appearance there.

Mr. Pugland kept tolerating everything... until one day!

It was a Sunday afternoon and the mouse made an appearance from behind the washbasin while Pugland was in position lacking in dignity. Such positions are usually attained in 'Indian-style bathrooms', you know. 'That's it', said Pug. 'Time for you to go choohe', he thought.

Pug went to his local market, bought a mousetrap, laid the trap, and caught the little bugger, all in a matter of 4 hours. Pug then teased the mouse by making some weird squeaky sounds and left his home with the rodent.

Having released the chooha a couple of km away from home, Pug returned. He felt victorious.

The next morning, chooha made a special appearance at the refrigerator. It had apparently returned. Pug was shocked. He knew it was the same chooha; he had noticed it way too often to be able to distinguish it from other choohas.

Pug was not going to give up. He again managed to catch chooha with the same old trick. This time Pug released the chooha 10 km away from home.

But... the chooha returned!

This releasing and returning happened on a couple of more occassions. Pug had become extremely irritated now. He wondered,
a. how come the Chooha kept returning?
b. how come the Chooha kept getting trapped in a couple of hours of putting the trap?

Anyway, he did not want to kill the chooha. But, chooha was not leaving Pug with many options, mind you.

Pug was to leave next day for Chandigarh for an official 1-day visit and little did the train staff know that one of their passengers intended to carry a mousetrap... with a mouse trapped.

Apparently, Pug had caught the mouse again and put the trap in one of his old bags. On reaching the Chandigarh station, Pug boarded an auto and threw the mouse trap on the first available opportunity. He was happy for the rest of his journey.

A day later, Pug returned home and unlocked the door to his apartment. Right next to the door... was the... chooha. It looked like the chooha was waiting to welcome Pug home.

Pug dropped his bags and looked in the direction of the kitchen knife. And...
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Cuttttt...
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.
.
...said the director.

He had just completed the shooting of yet another breaking news on the famous Indian news channel, ChaalBaaj Tak.

Sure enough, soon after, the breaking news flashed across the channel:

'Ganesh ji ka jaadui jaanvar, vaapas aaye IT executive ke ghar'
'Lord Ganesha's magical mouse, keeps returning to an IT executive's house'.
--

PS: I hate you all for killing the meaning of 'news'.

Sadistic Maids

This is no story.

This is a real-life account of what's been happening to me over the past one year. It takes great courage for me to write about it. I never thought I'd reveal this but...

'my maids torture me'

Yes! I have said it now. I do feel a little relieved, but that, in no way, reduces the hurt I carry. My friends, it's true, I am being tortured by two of my maids on a consistent basis. I will tell you what exactly they are doing... but before that, you need to know something else too...

'they torture me through my ceiling fan'

Of course you did not understand what that meant. But you will, soon. They both are using my ceiling fan as an equipment to torture me. Let me do a profile on both of them and tell you what they are up to.

Maid Number 1 - The name's Pramila. She's a middle-aged woman who is responsible for doing jharu pocha every day. Her accent is so complicated that I have to repeat her words in my mind to make some sense of the information she intends to pass. Mostly, I'd prefer she has nothing to say to me.

Talking about the torture she inflicts - Every day, without fail... I need to pause here and put extra emphasis on without fail... To continue - she switches the fan off for jharu... and never... I need to pause again and put extra emphasis on never... switches it back on. Every single day!

-I have tried most of the ways of telling her this switching-on-again needs to be done, but she is deaf I think.

-And if she isn't deaf, the information doesn't reach her brain I think.

-And if the information reaches her brain, it fails to interpret the intended message I think.

Whatever! I feel harassed every day. I have to get up and do it myself while cursing her in my thoughts and agony. On the right is a secret pic I took of my tormenter.
 
Yesterday, my dad was seemingly angry at something. He was howling... errr... shouting. I reached his room to check 'wassup pitaji'? All he said was, 'iss pramila ko sau baar samjhaya hai pankha chalu kare... par kabhi nahi karti'
 
So you can see what mess we are in. Let's talk about maid number 2.
 

Maid Number 2 - He is in his twenties and named Shyamal. He cleans uninhabited areas of the house every Sunday. One of his usual chores is to clean the ceiling fans. And this is exactly how he targets me.

 

Picture this: I am lying on my bed, sleeping/watching tv/laptopping etc. It's all good. Suddenly this guy comes with a home ladder (don't know what else to call it) and starts cleaning the fan with a cloth... dropping all the dirt on this poor little harmless blogger on the bed. Whatever's on fan - finds me in moments.

And I look at him like a person staring at a bird who pooped on him. All clueless and helpless. Why do you do it Shyamal? Why don't you ask me to move away before firing the dirt bullets through the forces of gravity?

I have clicked this tormenter too... and just when he is at it. Check it out.

Can you feel my pain? Even while clicking the pic, there was something crap coming in my direction. A video of this scene would have accounted better for the brutality, I think.

Mind you, this particular tormenter is so fierce that he does not care even if I am eating something. I am a lowly creature, it seems.

So, did you get it?

My maids are harassing me.

Please help!

Diggers and Buggers

It was just two days ago that a site in the outskirts of the Lallupanju village gained historical importance. This village is in UP, some 30 km from Noida.

So, what happened there?

Well, a couple of days ago, an excavation was carried out. The officers of the DFOS (Digging and Finding Old Structures) had some information that the site bore historical bearings on kings and kingdoms and what nots.

The excavation and digging-up continued for half a day and nothing was found... but a photograph. Now, if you are an Indian who watches tv, you must have seen this photograph all over the news channels... and we're sure you must be sick of looking at it by now.

Let's take a look at the picture first.

Notice the different aspects before we talk further.

It looks like a deserted railway station... and one that you'd base your horror stories on.

So, where is this place? What about it?

Since yesterday, all news channels have been showing the story throughout the day. It's just everywhere... and all of them are showing inconsistent views.

Let's look at what we're facing:

-Channel 'No-Laaj Tak' has been showing the photograph in the 'breaking news' section. It claims that the Lallupanju village was once a railway station. Then, there was a huge storm and everything was annihilated. 'In fact, the remains of the station could be found several kms deep inside the land', is how they conclude.

-Channel 'Andy Biwi' claims this was a house that belonged to King Davai Maan Singh. They continue, 'the king was pretty lazy to travel in cars and got a railway track made right outside his house'. They also claim the photograph is from 800 years ago, and surprisingly, even before the railways and cars and digital photography got invented.

-Channel 'Makkaar Plus' is confident this proves that primitive Indians were cleanliness freaks. The channel has been continuously making red circles around the blue dustbin and claiming how clean the station was being kept. Surprisingly, they don't have a version on the existence of the station itself... at least, yet.

-Channel 'No-Idea TV' has, like their usual stories, one of the absurdest versions around. The channel is claiming that the gods of Lallupanju village have been facing difficulties travelling around... and interestingly, they want a railway station built here. The photograph is a signal they have sent to humans.

The whole nation is beaming around the different versions, trying to add pieces together, and make some sense out of it. People are seemingly split with their loyalties to different channels and their versions.

Caught in this brouhaha, we decided to interview the minister of state Sataya-wati. She has expressed happiness on this historical event and ordered for her statues to be built on ground zero. People of the country are yet to react to that.

So... finally... we reached outside the office of the executives who were working on that 'digging up'. We wanted to understand what they think about it all.

Our conversation with the senior officer lasted... a minute.

We asked him what the photograph conveyed. He stood silent for some time. Then, he answered, 'it was only a post card... they just didn't bother to shoot the back side of it'.
-----------------------------------------END--------------------------------------------------------------


This post was published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 15, the fifteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers. The topic for the edition was the image that you see above.

The post did not fetch even a single vote; hahaha :)

Kahani Khaali Ghar Ghar Ki

How do we respond when a good friend tells us...

 "mere ghar pe koi nahi hai"

??

Well, the response to this depends on our gender and age. And here's what I observed:

@ Males, Age 20-25: Ok. So, mai apni bandi (gf) le aau? Look at them - just licking their lips. These guys can just think of opportunities to get physical with their girlfriends. Jawaani ka josh hai ji!


@ Male, Age 25-30: Cool. Peene ka scene banaye phir? For males, there comes an age when girls take a step back and alcohol takes one forward. Now, they are in search of places they can drink without hassles.


@ Male, Age 30+: Achcha? Khana kaha se kha raha hai phir? Poor guy. Now he is married... and not much into alcohol equally. He would now only be interested in petty things.


@ Male, Age 60+: Hey bhagwaan? Kab hua yeh? Toone bataya kyo nahi? Well, it's the age factor now. Old man think his friend's wife's dead. Not his fault.

That was all about males. Stupid males.

Now, talking about females, the sensible gender, they will probably say...
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@ Female, All Ages: Why? Kaha gaye sab?

Return

It's 9:30 a.m., time for the milkman's greeds,

He gets the cow, her milk is all he needs,

Then he says, it's 10 a.m. now,
So go get lost, you stupid cow,

He pushes her outside and beats her with a stick,

And sometimes a punch, and sometimes a kick,

Then he lets her go and wander in the city,

And like every day, the cow leaves in self-pity,

And then the cow keeps roaming, that's her daily routine,

The milkman takes the milk and disowns her, he's so mean,

He won't keep her daytime; he doesn't want to arrange for her lunch,

So he just sends her away, knowing she'd find something to munch, 

While the cow remains clueless on the milkman's behavior,

And so she prays for someone to become her savior, 

On the roads she sits, and sometimes the pavement,

While people abuse her and, sometimes, the government,

Every day, she puts her life at great risk,

While the traffic goes past, quite brisk,

She looks everywhere for something to eat,

While the milkman sells milk and buys some wheat,

In the evening, she heads home, just after being caned by the traffic cop,

And on the way, kids throw stones at her, while she wishes for them to stop,

The milkman sees her enter and abuses her twice,
While the cow wishes every day for him to be nice,

This keeps happening all the time, so I decided to ask her one day,
"Dear cow, why do you bear all this, why don't you just run away?"

She looked at me and smiled, and then I saw her laugh,
"You fool, return, I have to, for the milkman has my calf".

She returns home despite bearing all this torture... for the love of her calf! A typical mom.
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This post was published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 14, the fourteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers. The topic for the edition was 'Return'.

Another Adult Annihilated! (55 F)

Azaad and Aman altercated at aunt Annie's abode.

Afterwards, Aman absconded.

Aunt Annie arrived and asked Azaad about Aman.

Azaad answered, 'am ain’t aware'.

Aunt asked again.

Azaad answered, 'an alligator ate Aman'.

Aunt, agitated, averred, 'asshole'.

Azaad answered, 'abuse again and…'

Aunt, annoyed, aimed an axe at Azaad’s abdomen.

'Aaaaaaaaahhhh…'

----------------------------------------END---------------------------------------

That was my first 55 Fiction.
'Okay, that's nice!! But what the hell is a 55 Fiction?'
Err... simply put - it's a fiction in 55 words. I tried to make a unique one by having all words with A. The above was published by GingerChai on their Web site at: http://www.gingerchai.com/2010/07/29/another-adult-annihilated/ Thanks GC.

Aah Want a New Technology

This post is my submission to HP's 'My Demand contest' on Indiblogger. The contest simply wants participants to think of a new technology... and demand the same! My demand follows...
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"And the judge has sentenced the chief minister Papayawati to 20 years of rigorous imprisonment for causing 29, 384 lakhs Aah of pain to the people of Uttar Pradesh."
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I want a technology that measures things that we allege to be non-measurable. Basically, I want everything to be measurable!

Pain, Love, Hate, Boredom, Anger, Corruption, and so on... can you measure them?

...wouldn't it be great if you could measure everything non-countable as well?
...and how about a unit of measurement for everything?

Confused? Let me explain. Since Papaywati caused pain; let me use 'pain' as my example.

--
Pain should be measurable from now on, physical or mental. The unit of pain, I propose, should be 'Aah' (as you see in the judge's verdict above). And we should have some basic thresholds like anything above 50 Aah is severe.

So, all I want is a technology to measure pain in Aah. Note that Aah does not take a plural form - it does not become Aahs. (And why? Ask the creator please...)

Now sample this: 'Mom, dad just fell down in the porch... and he is having a pain of 28 Aah.'

To which mom replies, 'relax son. 28 is less. Remember - it has to be 50 or more to be serious!!!'
--
And here are some other usages I could think of:

a. Office Gossip: I heard Rita had 88 Aah of pain during her labor. God! She must be brave.

b. School: Ma'm, I did not come to school yesterday because I had a stomach ache of 36 Aah... and here's the certificate.

c. Lovers: 'I could go through hundreds of Aah for you.'

d. Death: 'O.. I have been hit by a bullet... and it's really painful'...to which the listener would respond, 'yes, I can see. 91 Aah it is. O, and it's increasing'.

e. Facebook Status Message: 'Had a 36 Aah toothache today'.
.
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...and so on. Make it measurable, will you.

Okay, here's a bonus example: I had 49 Aah of pain in my head after reading this post ...and you know where that comment goes, don't you?

But yes - I firmly believe... everything should be measurable. I would also propose the unit of love as 'dil'. I love my blog more than 99 dils.

Bring on the technology please.

Chao-ffic

9:45 p.m., Delhi...
Voooooooooooooooooooo.... Voooooooooooooooooooo.... (ambulance)

The sight of an ambulance in the rear-view mirror discomforted Resham. 'I hope none's dying', she said to herself. Next, she moved her car to the adjacent lane giving way to the ambulance. While the ambulance passed, a quick peek inside did not reveal anything. 'Maybe it's going to pick someone... or maybe someone's actually there... god bless', were her last thoughts.

In the meanwhile, the ambulance driver was coated with perspiration. It's a hard job, mind you. He had to reach before it was late. His assistant, sitting next to him, understood the seriousness of the situation—he did not speak a word. There were another 4 kms to go.

Four kms would have been an easier job in any other city, but this is Delhi. The traffic is so heavy that every meter you travel is itself a successful outcome in life.

The driver looked at the traffic, which was as-usual congested. Next, he looked at the assistant in a what-do-we-do-now kind of manner. The assistant looked at his watch. It was 9:50. He then looked in the rear of the van. It was all lifeless there. No movement no nothing. He then looked behind the van.

The madmen they are, Dilliwaalas were fighting for the spot immeditely behind the ambulance. They knew the ambulance would pierce the traffic and move forward easily. Why miss the oppotunity then? Just get behind the thing and you progress too!

The driver cussed the traffic and blew the horn incessantly. The Vooooooooooooo continued simultaneously!

It was getting really nervy. The assistant hurled truckload of abuses at a couple of two-wheeled vehicles that the van encountered. It was getting late, he knew. I personally don't think anybody could feel as helpless as these guys. But they were professionals, is my second thought.

The driver's phone rang at 9:55. He did not bother to pick. Actually, he never got to know about the phone call because of the Voooooooooooo. By the way, I am not even sure if he'd pick had he heard.

Desperate times now! Just 1 km left and there was so much traffic. It was so bad that the vehicles in front did not even have much space to let the ambulance through. It was all clogged... jammed... and disgusting!

The ambulance then scratched a car. O shit! But, the car owner did not mind. This was his share of karma. He just hoped the patient reached on time. The driver did not look apologetic. He was on a mission and could not be late.

A number of onlookers watched the ambulance struggling. They all prayed. Some wondered what if their family member was in there... struggling with life and the traffic equally. Others just abhorred the traffic situation. Anyways.
..
..
..
..

Finally... after much Voooooooooooing, the guys turned right and stopped a 100 meters later. The time was 10:05.

But... instead of hurrying things up, they just sat there. Both of them were really sad. They stared at each other.

They knew the Dilli thekaas close at sharp 10 p.m.

---------------END!


PS: Through this post, I thank my friend Maneesh Makheeja (InfoPro). He has helped me on a number of occassions on a number of things. Thanks Maneesh. Why this post? Because I know you love beer :)

I hate you... CHARUUUUU!

Charu is a fucking piece of shit,
He knows cricket not one bit,
Still he blabbers with his zero wit,
I say feed him a candle after it's lit.

I don't want to see Charu on TV,
People please go and burn his CV,
And ask him to stay with his biwi,
And then we do haha hoho hehe.