Son-ly Love...

Tete-a-tete
Dad said….

The sands of time are running out fast and we are at the fag end of a momentous year. Well guarded against the biting cold with layers of quilts, I am snug in my well-sprung bed with a cup of steaming coffee [x-(]. The northwesterly winds blowing in from the higher reaches of the Himalayas are responsible for this cold wave, says the met office. I marvel at the picturesque scene outside, framed by my first floor window. Noble and spirited ideas come crowding to my mind. I go through a mental reckoning of all that I must do during the remaining day of the year. The list is long, but I care a hoot if it becomes longer. The most important is a visit to cheer my neighbour, Akhil, who is lying in the hospital plastered and bandaged all over. There is a thump. It is the morning newspaper, rolled and tucked which like a missile has landed before me. Somehow that reminds me of my bookshelf which needs immediate attention.

The books, so many of them, are in a state of chaotic bliss. The big tin of paint and brushes are lying untouched. Doors and windows have smudges and schoolchildren graffiti all over and crying for a fresh coat of paint. With the new year just around the corner, there must not be any delay. It dawns on me that the grass on my lawn is a tangled mass and at places the blades are knee-high. Hedges have overgrown and the thorny shoots are jutting out are a menace to pedestrians. With a borrowed mover, I can certainly convert the wild growth into a smooth green carpet. Trimming the hedges requires both physical exertion and artistic dexterity which I am proud to have in good measure. Then there are more mundane matters at hand. Like calling the plumber to fix the leaking tap. Or teaching blackie (our dawg) how to salute and stay for 5 seconds :D, or teaching the parrot a word or two. All this and more has to be done to welcome the new year. Work may be tiresome and tedious but the result of a well-done job is always satisfying and thrilling.

My reply…

I am not drunk dad, I think you are…”trimming the hedges, calling the plumber” LOL! Anyways a formal reply in the same format for ya :D:D:D

The L.E.D’s are blinking quickly as we are at the fag end of a horrendous year. Well guarded against the marching red ants and the UFO’s, I am snug in my not-so-well-sprung bean bag with a glass of vodka with orange juice…(I know you love screw driver, ok ok this aint one hehehe)(moreover how dare you talk of coffee…I toldya about ACORN remember??). Chennai, unlike Darjeeling, is breezeless and cold wave can only be expected if some reverse komodo dragon like species makes a dull appearance to honour us all with some snow. I marvel at the picturesque scene outside, framed by my first floor window. The scene is like a bunch of monkeys trying to remove ticks from their bodies and deer watch all of this along with a few guys peacefully pee-ing their way to glory somewhere in the woods. Obviously this does not help me in harboring noble and spirited ideas and the best idea is to close the window. I go through a mental reckoning of all that I must do during the remaining day of the year. The most important being, going to a professor and asking him to change my grade from a “U” to a “C” on the notice board. There is a thump. It’s the paper boy asking me for money, but wait a min, you still need to send me money don’t forget that ok? Atleast think of the poor paper boy if not me because I owe him a 1000 bucks hehe. This does not remind me of my bookshelf because I don’t have one. Moreover I added new books like fantasy series by Terry Goodkind and Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan to be kept in my bookshelf, ever if I have one.

In your case it’s the books, in my case it’s my whole room that is in chaotic bliss. A short description follows…

2 acoustic guitars and a bass adorn my room along with newspapers( the whole sem’s lot). 2 beddings, not sure if I use any ever since the dreaded bean bag announced its arrival. Thanks for the blanket you mailed…brilliant thinking I say! Photocopies of the notes which were taken just before the end-semester exams and last but not the least…CLOTHES all over the place.

As far as I remember, you know I hate drawing. So I think its better than I stop talking about it instantly rather than reminding you of your futile attempts at sending me to those sick art classes…crap! The doors and windows here have been full of smudges ever since 1959, when this institute came to existence. Right now it’s a question of removing the beehives that make their mark on the windows. I destroyed one yesterday and saw 3 larvae!! Yikes!! For the doors, I need to make sure that they are not latched, but locked, in order to avoid the infiltration of monkeys. It dawns on me that there is no grass on our quadrangle, hence extravagant football has been replaced by boring cricket. I pity for our gardener. He works hard and all we take is a day to smother it with our studs playing football.

Dad you are joking when you say that you have the artistic dexterity and the physical exertion to do what you want to…I AM YOUR SON DUDE!!! And I am not good at that. Now take a bow.

Dad, blackie is a bloody lazy bum. I don’t remember it staying for a fraction of a second while saluting so better go waste some time teaching that rubbish blabbermouth some words. I hope you learn a lesson and learn some new words yourself!!

But whatever may happen, my daddy is the best…no one can be like him. I LOVE YOU DAD.
I LOVE YOU MOM… I raise a toast for us (sorry Mom :$, LOL@Dad)

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Arre yaar BUS!

After having performed one of my best manoeuvres, I felt extremely pleased with myself to have pulled out a tricky move like that under immense pressure.

Hmph!! Like Li'l Red Riding Hood would say, "My! What a dirty mind you have!". I was talking about something I did in the bus. Gosh, stop smirking! I know it sounds bad, but it isn't. Trust me!

Traveling in Chennai's public transport bus is an experience by itself. Ah, I see a few of you nodding your heads. Those of you who didn't nod, what a shame. You're missing out on something amazing in life. Awww, don't feel bad already. Tell you what, I'll teach you something fun. Look up at the ceiling, and try to make out any black spots. Done? Now look down at the floor and look for the same black spot. Can't see anything? Then try repeating the whole exercise very fast. Aaah, I see you nodding. You don't feel too left out now, do you? :)

So where was I? Yeah, traveling in an MTC bus. These guys at MTC have so many things to be proud about.

Everywhere we go, we have banners and posters urging us to keep the city green. But it's also an unwritten rule that only an MTC bus can give Rajnikanth a run for his money when it comes to emanating smoke. So what do they do? They paint their buses green. Ingenious!

They also have the dubious distinction of being the only place where my Hutch network has absolutely no signal!

Developed countries boast of buses with automatic doors. But buses in Chennai go a step further, and have an automatic ushering system in place. In plain terms, it means you don't have to move a muscle, and yet you get off the bus and on it. All automatically. Jus make sure you're positioned strategically near the door. And a surging mass of human bodies pushing against each other will do the rest.

A bit like apparition in Harry Potter parlance. You stand near the door and stare hard at the position outside you wanna be in. Destination, Determination, Deliberation. Everything goes black. You're pressed hard from all directions. You can't breathe. You feel as if there are iron bands tightening around your chest. And before you know it, you're outside. Experiencing the indescribable delight of finally having enough space to move your little finger.

Chennai buses also boast of being the only ones in the world possessing a physics-defying centre of gravity. It travels tilted at 45 degrees, and still doesn't topple over. The drivers are known to tilt their faces at an awkward angle and stare wide-eyed when back on firm ground. This has also known to have earned them a few slaps along the way from ladies who suspected the poor drivers to have ogled lecherously at them. The poor devils.

Trust me to completely forget what I start off with and ramble on about matters immaterial. You've already forgotten what I said in the first para, haven't ya? :) I don't blame you!

So there I was, suffocating in a bus packed like a can of sardines. And stuck right in the middle, not able to move an inch either way. I could sense I was two stops away from my destination. But there was no way I'd have been able to get to either of the doors. Before I knew it, I'd reached my destination. It was now or never. There was a huge bunch of kids huddled together with their big schoolbags near the door. They were making things worse for me.

*Clink*

. The sound of hope. The sound of reassurance. The sound of a one rupee coin falling to the floor. The man next to me bent down to pick it up. I saw light. A bright, streaming beam from the doorway, showing me the way. The next thing I knew, I had R Kelly's "I believe I can fly" running in my head as I took the leap. Like a slingshot, coiling back with the overhead bar for support and then.. That perfect jump over the guy's head to land at the doorway shocking a few kids in the process.

The Automatic Ushering System took over. I landed outside to breathe the fresh air of freedom. To move my little finger. And more! :)

Sigh. Why do they call it MTC if it's anything but empty?

Cloning fundaes!

"Ha ha.. ha ha ha ha! Yes!"

An evil laughter reverberated across the laboratory. Dr. Brad Lee (No relation to the guru of the psychiatric genius, Dr. Saravanan who solved the Chandramukhi case), was alone in his lab, working on his dream project. This was something he'd kept under wraps. He'd mentioned it to no one but me, his most faithful student.

~~~*~~~

Dr. Lee was a brilliant scientist. Brilliant, but mad. The usual cliche. His dream was to build the human cloning machine, ever since he read a book that spurred him on to undertake this endeavour. He'd ripped that page out and posted it on his bathroom mirror to remind him every morning to not rest until he'd completed this pet project.



[Readers are requested to bring their eyebrow back down to where it belongs. A comic collection counts as a book too, and certainly as an inspiration! I mean, if a 6 year old kid can do it, so can Dr. Brad Lee. And yeah, click on the pic if you can't read it properly.]

Dr. Lee made a mental note to make sure that his machine made a better sound than 'boink'.

~~~*~~~

The boundary between his dreams and reality had blurred now. They had merged into one as Dr. Lee exulted in his achievement. His machine perfectly cloned his lab mouse, as it doubled in a flash, right in front of his eyes. Now all he had to see was if it worked on humans.

A bead of sweat ran down his eyebrow. What if it did not work? What if it failed to replicate a living object as complex as a human being? He'd be the laughing stock of his research team, and the world. Blind panic set in. His vision blurred and his words slurred. He felt his forehead throb like an angry mob. The bead of sweat now went down his cheek, even as he noticed his pulse grow weak. [Ok, I'll put an end to this rhyme, and restart it maybe some other time!!]

He collapsed to the floor, pallid and shivering. Coincidence, God's Grace, Stroke of Luck, call it what you want, but I was extremely thankful I was in the lab at that ungodly hour. I'd forgotten my papers, and for once, my absentmindedness came to the rescue. I saw him on the floor in a sorry state, and realised that he'd forgotten to take his nerve calming drug. I acted swiftly, popped the drug in his mouth and waited for five minutes to see the drug take effect.

Dr. Lee was back to normal and spoke to me in an unusually choked voice. "Rishabh, the cloning machine is done. It was a success with Mickey. Look" he said, pulling out a couple of mice from his coat pocket, "you can't see a single difference, can you?" I gaped at the creatures writhing in his hands. It was surely Mickey, the lab mouse. You could make out by the bald patch on its head and the raccoon-like mark around it's eyes. But there was one more! Looking exactly the same.

"Sir!" I gasped, "You've done it! Congratulations!"
"Not yet, Rishabh. I'm not sure it works on humans. And I don't want to proclaim this to the world without being sure it works perfectly."
"Oh.."

I realised what he was thinking. I knew I had to make the sacrifice. In the name of science, in honour of my teacher's dream.

"I'll do it, Sir", I whispered, "You may test it on me." Dr. Lee's eyes twinkled with joy and relief. "I knew I could count on you, my boy! It won't go wrong, trust me!"

I entered the contraption, feeling extremely uncomfortable. I felt claustrophobic being locked inside a metal container about as big as a broom cupboard. I could feel the machine whirring to life. A brilliant flash of light temporarily blinded me for a few seconds. I felt as though I was being x-rayed. And before I knew it, it was all over. I opened my eyes to see an exact replica of myself, standing beside me! But it was moving, and breathing too.

"Sir! It worked!" I screamed as a wave of relief washed over me.

~~*~~

If you've been a regular reader of my blog, you'd know by now that none of my "stories" have a proper ending. They just have a kadi/PJ in the end to exasperate you, to make you think "What the @&$#! He made me read all that for nothing!" I'm sorry to tell you that this post is no different! :)

So here's the kadi..
What did Dr. Brad Lee call me? And what did he call my clone?

Answer:
PrimaRI and SecondaRI


escaaaapeee!!

Dubious Distinctions

It was with mild surprise that I read a recent news item that restaurant critic Giles Coren had won the award for bad sex in fiction. Huh, what was that again? Apparently the award, now in its 13th year, is Britain's most dreaded literary accolade. It was set up "to draw attention to the crude, tasteless, often perfunctory use of redundant passages of sexual description in the modern novel, and to discourage it" by Rhoda Koenig and Auberon Waugh of the Literary Review. The literary world (of which I am not a part...FOR SURE!!) is not alone in pulling up its constituents for bad taste. In the world of cinema there are the ruthless Razzies to contend with. The Golden Raspberry (Razzie) Awards annually present Dis-honours for Worst Achievements in Film since 1980. Their yearly bestowing of Tinsel Town's Tackiest Trophies is regularly covered by all major news services and targets some of Hollywood's biggest names. Winners of Razzie include actors Bill Cosby, Kevin Costner, Roberto Benigni and Lawrence Olivier as well as Madonna, Burt Reynolds and Brooke Shields. Sylvester Stallone scores as all-time champion with 10 wins.

Nor is this type of singling out reserved for the arts. In the sciences, the Ig Nobel Prize, sponsored by the Annals of the Improbable research, acknowledges "Scientific achievements that cannot or should not be reproduced". The 15th and most recent awards ceremony was conducted at Harward University, where actual Nobel Laureates handed out the prizes. In the category of medicine, Gregg A Miller won and Ig Nobel for his invention of Neuticles, artificial replacement of testicles for dogs available in three sizes and three degrees of firmness. In the category of Economics, Gauri Nanda of MIT won for her invention of and alarm clock that runs away and hides. Previous years' winners include an analysis of the forces necessary to drag sheep over various surfaces, a report that revealed that chickens prefer beautiful people and a washing machine for cats and dogs (I appreciate the last one, because my dog is too painful to handle when we plan to give him a wash or something closer). The prizes are often nominal; a statuette, a champagne bottle (I love that drink as well as the song...add a supernova) - but many recipients sportingly show up. In celebrity-dom there is no such thing as bad publicity. Poet Ghalib summed it up many centuries ago when he wrote "Badnaam honge to kya naam na hoga"

STFU

I rant therefore I am!!!
I frag therefore I am!!!
I will seek and I will destroy
Just wait for the right time to strike
YOU'LL be taken aback....be careful
I am not joking
Because I dont give a fuck to what you do and what you did
Just the fact the it was against me makes me contemplate revenge
And I will come back....back to take all of 'em
All of your cheeky and geeky acts will go drown in the river of your own tears
This will go really far take my word...
I dont know many hence I dont expect much
But unexpected things give you a fresh lease of life,
Give you a motive
And I am there, right at the edge....
My motive is fixed
And that is something you'll come to know in no time at all
Make sure you have the pills and the softwares...You never know you might need them