Celebrations

In the words of a ragpicker...

o

Hahaha... I can't stop giggling. Maybe it's the aftereffect of our Diwali celebrations. Maybe.

But, to tell you, we did have a blast. It was just the usually amazing Diwali that we have every year. You rich people tend to think we ragpickers have no life and live in poor conditions. Oh please! Give me a break. We are quite well off when it comes to happiness and celebrations—much more than you guys actually.

Today, I tell you all this because some of you have this guilt that you enjoy life while we starve. 'Awwww', so sweet of you to think like that. But, that's not quite! Atleast not for us ragpickers.

Okay, let me ask you a question. How do you guys celebrate your Diwali? I am guessing some of you dance in parties, some of you eat good food, most of you burst crackers... and the ones who claim to be sensible just decorate homes... right?

And what do we ragpickers do? What if I were to tell you we do all of the above? Haha. Well, you might be doing one, two, or maximum three of the things I listed... but, we do all. I repeat, 'all'.

There are four of us in my group - Gharru, Tuktaki, Bangola, and Surri (that's me). We have been friends since long. We even work together... and when it comes to celebrating Diwali, no one beats us.

This time around, our celebrations spanned, like every year, across two days. The first was the actual Diwali day... and the second was the day that followed. Here's a brief on what all we did:

We Danced: You guys are obnoxious and loud. It is not at all difficult to find a house where there's a party going on.

You know what all happens inside. But I guess you never know what happens outside. Do you? Well, we are making merry outside, dancing to the latest music popping out of your show-offable music systems. This is what happened this time as well. Munni badnaam hui... darling tere liye...

Surprisingly, our tastes in music match big time. Dancing to second-ear music is real fun I say. Keep it up people; we love it.

We Ate: Again! Not at all difficult to find a house where a party is going on. And of course, if there's a party, there's going to be wastage.

You guys waste food like anything. Lol. But, we love that thing of yours. Psst... because we don't let it remain wasted actually. We pick up the food from your bins and consume as a part of our Diwali rituals. It's a real feast I swear. There are just so many options you provide us with.

We really enjoyed the food this time as well. Promise us something... next time onward, you will not feel guilty whenever you waste food. Always remember that it's not really getting wasted. It's getting consumed. 

To continue our celebrations, once the food was done with, we rushed back to our homes concluding the first of the two wonderful days of our celebrations. Sounds fun till here? Am sure, am sure.

We Burst Crackers: Then came the next morning! I'd have to admit we slept less between the two days.

The very next morning, we set off on our tramping activities, picking from roads the crackers you left over. We even caught hold of crackers that did not burst and you never managed to pick again.

To tell you a truth - we so love this cracker-collection part. The anticipation of finding good bombs is just too exciting.

We then went back to our secret place and burst the crackers, dancing to the joys of the great festival simultaneously. And yes, you guys are amazing but I bet if you even knew that.

I think I should point out something really important here. One may tend to think this writeup is like a satire on the activities of rich people. Blah blah blah and how the poor are suffering. Bullshit... you must be kidding me. In reality, this article is to show our gratitude for what you rich people have been doing for us ragpickers. We love you.

We Even Earned: This was our last of the activities of the Diwali celebrations. Once our cracker bursting was done, we set off in the evening, all dressed in our torn uniforms.

It is Diwali time and you guys are supposedly more generous. Maybe you guys think that helping us would bring you good luck. Maybe it gives you some karmic massage. Lol. Keep bringing it on, I say. We got a lot of money from you and your likes during these days.

All we had to do was to appear like we were lying idle while the world was celebrating... and you gave us good money. As they say, 'dil khol ke'. Am sorry, not sure if I should have confessed that.

Nevertheless, that concluded our lovely Diwali celebrations. You agree?

Ah! There is one little thing though. One thing we want to say at this stage. Why do you guys never waste your drinks??? I mean... we never get to drink you know. There's just nothing you leave for us.

On that note... I think you guys always throw up. You should throw out... from next time ;)

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This post was published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 16; the sixteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. 

The post fetched 5 votes... decent enough... considering that the top 3 bloggers got 7 votes each :)

Grrrrrrrr

For those of you who've followed this blog since long, you might be aware every now and then I come up with a weird list of points that irritate me.

I have done two such posts till now, Annoying Me...Easilyyy and What the Ufffff

This particular post is the third in the series. I take this opportunity to begin my crib session. My next set of irritants:

1. We all have become smarter, and we sort of 'get' the feel as to which movie will be worth watching. We watch the trailers on TV and are usually able to decide whether it's worth or not. Now, what irritates me the most is some lone-life looser coming out of the theatre and claiming it to be a super-duper hit. I know he/she might have been paid to say that, but it's really irritating. What more, a few days later, you see this ticker around the movie that says, 'running successfully'. God. Especially when every human you know who's watched it says it's very very very crappy.... and all along you knew it was crappy... still!

2. God. This happens so so so many times. So many times I realized that the DVD case I was returning to the movie parlor just had the part 1. The part 2, at the same time, was sitting handsomely in the player at home. Very irritating! This usually happened when I finished a movie late night... and set out for the parlor next morning.

3. I ask how come... How come every random thing is dating back to centuries ago? For example - Pahalvaan Halwai, serving you since 1954. Wait? What? O hello! 1954? What are you talking about? This Halwai (sweet seller) was not in existence a year ago... and now it says this. I'd call this the 'since' factor. Bloody liars. I guess these random people/companies/products dating really back in time represent a fancy hand-picked number.

4. This is a common but trivial point. You'd say I've gone mad. But, assuming I am dialing a number for someone. Post that, I hand the phone to this someone. And if this someone, without wasting a second says 'hello', it irritates me big time. I don't know why but I expect this person to listen to what's happening and then act accordingly... after all, it may just be ringing at the other end. Why say hello straightaway?

5. Then, I dont like the fact that every person who tries to imitate Shahrukh, does the 'aeeee aeee'.. god, I dont even know how to spell it. But you what I mean, right? The point also holds for everyone attempting to imitate Sachin by saying stuff like 'haila... ayela...' whatever. Get something new, guys.

6. This is the last point guys. Enough of whining I say. I hate the way Bollywood kids cried in old movies. You know what am saying? Like - when they rolled their fists in the cavities of their eyes...back and forth... and simultaneously sounded, 'oooooooo..' blah blah blah. I get an award for the the patheticEST description. But, come on people! Gimme a break. Why would someone cry like that? I think if someone cries like that, he or she probably deserved to cry.

That's it for Part 3 of my cribs in life. Thank you reading.

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'.
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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…'

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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.