Wednesday, 27 June 2007

A love ballad

Once there was a young carpenter,
In the village of Ardew.
And he loved the cobbler’s daughter,
And her love for him was true.

He proposed her to get married,
For the joy that it would bring.
But he didn’t have enough money,
To buy a wedding ring,

So he stole from the goldsmith,
And no matter how hard he tried.
In that small, tiny village,
He had no place to hide.

Oh, they caught him, the three constables,
And they nailed a poster to the fence.
For to warn all other people,
That it was a great offence.

He told them of his love,
But the jury didn’t sing.
And the judge was too harsh,
And condemned him to swing.

There’s a moral to this story,
That though your love be very pure.
Don’t go stealing other’s money,
For it is against the law.

Tuesday, 26 June 2007


Last night, I walked into the TV room. My dad was reading a newspaper. I came up to him and said,

“I want a tattoo, Dad.”

Silence. Dad doesn’t even look up from the newspaper.

“I said, I want to get tattooed!”
“No. You’ll do nothing of the sort.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s painful. And permanent, too.”
“But they’re so cool!”
“And not to mention, ugly.”
“You’re wrong, Dad. Tattoos are beautiful. They’re art.”
“Son, by the time you realise I'm right, you’ll have a child who thinks you’re wrong.”

I take a few seconds to digest this and then walk out of the room leaving Dad with the newspaper.

And I’m going to get that bloody tattoo anyway. Any suggestions for the design, lads and ladies?

Monday, 25 June 2007

My Star Wars Horoscope

I took this quiz and this is what I got:

Star Wars Horoscope for Sagittarius

You are superbly wise and have been known to spread your wisdom widely.
You are impatient and pushy when people take your teachings too lightly.
And your philosophical side always peeks through.

Star wars character you are most like: Yoda

"When 900 years old you reach, look as good you will not!" - Yoda, Return of the Jedi

How to write a blog entry?

At this moment, there must be tens of thousands of blogs teeming everywhere in the cyberspace. But the most important element of a blog is, well, a blog entry. If you don’t write blog entries, your blog won’t grow. And also, it’s a major question in every blogger’s mind as to what to post next. Well, leave all that to me. Today, I’m going to give a few tips and tricks on how to write a blog entry.

  • It’s obviously better if the post is interesting, but then it doesn’t necessarily has to be. I mean, you can even post something you think people won’t like. The internet has such a large readership, that there is definitely at least one person who’ll be interested in what you’ve written. E.g.: Writing about how you got your tonsils removed isn’t something one would like to read about; but that’s no reason as to why you cannot write about it.
  • If you can’t come up with new stuff, just put up something you might have written earlier somewhere else. Or, if your blog is already 7-8 months old and has a lot of posts, you can recycle your posts i.e. repost something you had posted in the early stages of the blog. A lot of people don’t go through the archives so it’ll be new to those who started reading your blog after some time.
  • You can also post your inner thoughts. Some people love to read that kind of stuff. Gossip, you know.
  • If you browse the web a lot and stumble upon some interesting site, you can post the link to that site along with a few words about it to generate interest.
  • You can also mention some interesting conversation you might have had with someone. Sometimes, they are really funny things to share with people. Again, gossip.
  • If you don’t feel like typing, never mind. Post photos. Who doesn’t like to see photos?
  • You can also write a movie or a book review. They’re quite easy to write and are interesting to read too.
  • And the best option, obviously, is to let the blog be. Who cares, anyway?

Sunday, 24 June 2007

Therapy session

I was quite eager and bored and not to mention insane last year (well, things haven't changed much this year too) and I decided to provide solutions to people's problems. You know, the normal shrink stuff which you see as columns in the newspapers and magazines. Well, I had my stint as one and well, it didn't really work out as well as I would have wished it too.

Dear Poochie,

I take great pains to inform you that at present I am in great distress arising out of some extra-terrestrial being on whose head resides a a strange dead cat.
This miserable creature has gone to great lengths to sabotage any intelligent posting in my community, by replying to all scraps with a comment in some unitelligible language, which is something like this: hehehehe

I have tried most courses of actions but to no avail: Reason meets with insanity, threats of bodily harm are jeered at, and mockery has no effect whatsoever.

Please suggest some evasive measures, O Resident and Wise Therapist.

Yours truly

Dear Yours Truly,

I am deeply perturbed with your distress and I commend you on your ability to hold on for such a long time. To ease your pain slightly, I would like to tell you that you are not the only one who has such pest problems (in your case, 'pest' denotes an extra-terrestrial being who wears a strange dead cat for a hat) and in fact, there are quite a few communities which have been plagued by such 'pests' which get involved in some of the choicest of disruptional activities (in your case, the activities being replying to all scraps with a comment in some unitelligible language) and thus hamper the normal functioning of the community.

Although the techniques you have used (mockery, physical threats and logical reasoning) have been proven to be successful, they are grossly outdated considering the advancement in modern times. Therefore, I'm suggesting a few modern techniques guaranteed to solve your problem:

1) Tell the subject some of the best of the illogical PJs ever known to mankind and animal kind alike. This procedure will first instill a sense of proximity to insanity in the subject's mind which on continued exposure to the stream of PJs will make him stark, raving mad and hence turn him phobic to the company of the person supplying the constant stream of PJs. Although this method is very effective, one needs a lot of patience and self-immunity to the PJs to execute it.

2) Another plan of action that could be taken up is to blatantly ignore the subject and give no response whatsoever to any of his menagerie of maniacal actions. This will cause the subject to initially get frustrated, then angry but finally go into despair and rejection and not trouble you ever again. Although a very old technique, its highly effective and I wonder how you haven't tried it yet.

3) The ultimate solution would of course be to show a gun to his face. Strangely, being on the wrong end of a gun is the biggest motivator of all times.

I hope this will solve your problems.

Yours in service,

Aah well, that sucked!


My dad walks in my room while I’m talking to someone on the phone. I keep down the phone after 15-20 seconds.

“Who were you talking to?”
“No one in particular.”
“It was a girl, right?”


“How did you guess?”
“You had that smug grin on your face”

Longer silence.

“So when are you getting a girlfriend, son?”
“I don’t know, Dad. I would rather court multiple women than a single one.”
“And what’s going to happen when you marry?”
“I’m not that jobless to give such trifle matter any thought.”
“You’ll have to eventually.”


“So, how do you like your job?”
“I don’t like it. I want to get over with it ASAP.”
“So will you be taking up the job after you graduate?”
“Do you think I’m an idiot, Dad?”

My dad turned to walk away.

“Yep. It’s all in the genes, son.”


Glow in the Dark

The following conversation took place in a chat room last night. It involves me, another guy and a girl. I’ll denote us as ‘A’, ‘B’ and ‘C’.

A: Star Wars rocks!
B: Yeah, I specially love Darth Vader. He’s my most favourite character of all times.
A: Oh yeah, totally!
C: You know, I had a crush on Darth Vader. That black helmet, the voice, and all that leather. *swoons*
B: Too bad his body parts were burned away.
C: Huh?
B: Do you think that Darth Sidious also attached the body part while mechanizing him?
A: I doubt it. But now I know why DV made his own lightsabers *winks*
B: Oh yeah! Even my girl says that “glow in the dark” are her favourite variety. *winks back*
C: LOL! You perverts.

Tuesday, 19 June 2007

Postman Pete

It was a bright, cheery morning. The Sun was shining in the sky and the birds were chirping heartily in the trees. In the farm nearby, Farmer Jones was showing Ms. McHartley his equipment. But that’s not the story we’re concerned with right now. We’re here to talk about Postman Pete. There he is driving his blue car into the cheery little town. His road tax was way out of date and his tyres were as bald as Rev. Tom’s head. He carefully avoided the doughnut shop, so as not to run into constable Pickles. Up on the road, he noticed Mrs. Whittle riding on a bicycle.

“Good morning, Pete,” said Mrs. Whittle and gave him a cheery wave.
“Get off the road, you soppy cow,” replied Pete swerving his car to the right and forcing Mrs. Whittle into a ditch.

And on he drove until he reached Granny Wizen’s house. He rammed the car into the fence and applied the brakes.

“What a stupid place to put a gate-post,” thought Pete.

He went up the door path and knocked three times on the door. Granny Wizen opened the door herself.

“Hello, Pete,” said Granny Wizen cheerily, “Would you like to come in for some milk and gingerbread men?”
“What on earth would I want to do that for?” replied Pete. “You’re a lousy baker and your house smells like something has crawled in there and died. Anyhow,” continued Pete, “you’re such a senile old baggage that you’ve probably forgotten what you’ve invited me in for in the first place.”
“Hahahahahaha,” laughed Granny Wizen heartily, because her hearing aid batteries had run flat.
“Anyhow, I got this parcel of glassware for you,” informed Pete, throwing down the parcel on the nearby table with an audible crunch. “I wonder what moron put a sticker saying ‘Fragile’ on it.”
"So where is your black and white cat, Joss, these days?" asked Granny Wizen.
"I ran over him two days ago," said Pete, "but now he is more useful as a doormat than he ever was before."

From inside the house came Fred to the door.

“Hello Pete,” said Fred.
“Hello Fred,” said Pete.
“Say, Pete, have you been my $300 postal order yet?” inquired Fred.
“I’m afraid not,” said Pete, “But that’s the post office for you.”
“But this is the fifth time this month,” exclaimed Fred, “And this happened last month too”
“Tough luck!” consoled Pete.
“You know, Pete, I’ve often wondered how a man like you on a postman’s salary can afford a two bedroom apartment and a swimming pool,” said Fred.
“Your guess is as good as mine, Fred,” said Pete, adding, “You know what, Granny, I think I’ll have a few of your cookies now.”

Granny Wizen smiled and shut the door into his face. Pete sighed, chucked a brick through her window and went back to his car singing his cheery song:

I’m Postman Pete and I carry the posts
To people’s houses everyday.
Unless I feel a bit fed up,
And then I chuck the lot away.

One day I got a post, clearly marked:
“Important post, Do not bend!”
I wrote across it, “Yes, they do.”
And just to prove it fold it then.

My name is Pete, I’m postman Pete,
And I visit the ladies down the lane.
And when they call I never fail,
I really am a first-class male.

Saturday, 16 June 2007

Kid's guidelines to a healthier living.

Leisure time is something, other than the pool, that I’ve been swimming freely in for the past few days. And what one does during his or her leisure time is of the least consequence to me. Unless, that is, I were curious to know about the person’s hobbies and all that sort of a thing. Anyhow, I, for one, have taken to forming deep, thoughtful thoughts and turning them over and over, thoughtfully that too, to see if they were ripe enough. You see, I’d recently read an article on how the children are the future of a country. And as far as what I’ve seen of the Indian kids, those little blighters, and consequently, our future, didn’t seem so bright. So, what with being a responsible Indian and all, I’ve dedicated my intelligence into specifying some guidelines on various topics, ranging from education to sports, which if the kids follow, will enable 95.4% of them to live a safe and healthy life which is exactly what is needed to safeguard the Indian future. There is always a 4.6% chance, of course, that some kids will be so stupid as to read the guidelines and still not follow them to contribute to a bright future. And, frankly, I couldn’t care less.

  1. On Education: Education is something every kid should have. Schools and other such institutions, which brag about imparting quality education, are a necessary part of every human being’s life. Because only through them we get a practice of heaving huge weights on the shoulders. This makes sure that when the kid grows up; his back is not broken due to the huge responsibilities he’ll be taking up. Also, the bullies help mould a child’s character. It teaches him how to deal with the government later on in the life. Also, we can learn a lot by watching other people commit mistakes. Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so. So, the bottom-line is: Do not say no to school. Become a bully and have fun.

  2. On Sports: After learning, which stimulated the mind, we need to delve on sports, which stimulate the body. Having a strong body is also necessary. Wrestling, as a sport, should be taken up. It comes of immense help during riots and demonstrations. Also it’s a great service to put others in the hospitals and give your contribution towards helping to reduce the population. Football is another sport I recommend, if only to learn how to kick other people’s shins and balls while keeping yours safe. Enormously helpful, you know, if you join the parliament later on.

  3. On drugs: Drugs are bad. Real bad. Well, that is, unless you’re the seller. In which case, it helps you make a lot of money and lead a rich, quality life. So, if you ever meet a drug peddler trying to trick you into buying the white stuff, use the skills you must have honed on the sports field on him. And sell the stuff yourself.

  4. On the internet: Internet is a very good thing. The greatest thing since bread came sliced, as some would say. Or digital watches, as Douglas Adams would prefer. It’s a storehouse of knowledge and entertainment. But it also poses a serious threat to the young, raw minds of the kids. There are lots of predators out there, who get children to tell them their names and address and then do bad nasty things to them. The only cure is to lie shamelessly and avoid the chat rooms and the forums at all costs. Also, tell your parents about everything you do and talk about online. Everything except porn. That’s personal.

I wish I could lecture the kids more about how to lead a wonderful, healthy and safe life but now I have to pop off to meet this really cute girl I met in an online chat room about a month ago. She’s very charming and funny. But I do wonder why she wants to meet me in that abandoned villa. But hey, what the hell!

Wednesday, 13 June 2007

An evening in Paris

Bon soir, monsieur!” said the waiter, “Est ce que,” he continued, “je peux vous servir quelque chose à boire?
“Eh?” I replied, being unacquainted with the vocabulary of la langue française.
“I mean to ask, monsieur,” said the waiter, translating to help me grasp his intentions, “if oo wood lyke sumzin zoo rink?”
When light finally dawned upon my slow intelligence, I nodded affably, as I did require the soothing effect of the restoratives. And the waiter ambled off to fetch the same.

This was my sojourn into Paris, la ville de l'amour, and, of course, the Eiffel Tower. But there’s something about Paris that always makes me feel fairly devoid of espièglerie and joie de vivre. I think it had something to do with the fact that I don’t like it when people speak in French, which, unfortunately, was, apparently, what Paris was full of. Oui, les gens qui parlent français.

But, now you, the reader, must be thinking as to why should I, having acquired a dislike of la ville de Paris, should go there in the first place. That, mes chers amis, will be revealed, and not quite unlike a mystery novel in which a certain chappie murders one other chappie and another chappie, being the protagonist of the novel, successfully endeavours to put the chappie, which had murdered the other chappie, in the dock, later in the story. So, there I was, after a nice, long walk through the streets of Paris and having drifted to one of the twelve cafés which jostled each other along the street, enjoying some much needed repos.

Waiting for the arrival of the stimulants, which I had previously ordered, I cast a relaxed, cursory glance over the other customers du moment. My roving eye found its destination upon a rather youngish lady, who could have well been the prototype of that particular class of the species which I had alluded to as the YHF in one of my previous posts. A singularly pretty lady. Magnifique is the word to describe her. Nay, un ange de ciel would be a more apt description. And the heavenly powers seem to have been making up for my misfortunes (about which you’ll come to know later).

There are certain moments in life when words are not needed. I looked at her, she looked at me. A perfect understanding linked our two souls.
One minute later, I had joined her at the table and had engaged her into a tête-à-tête.
Bon soir,” she said with obvious pleasure, or so it seemed to me, “Comment allez vous?
I replied with my most amiable of grins and a 5 second silence.
“Oh, you don’t know French, do you?” she enquired, this time, thankfully, in a language I was well versed in – English.
I shook my head to indicate a negative response.
“I had asked you, ‘How are you?’”
“Oh, I, actually, am lost”
“What do you mean lost?”
“I came out for a walk,” I explained, having found a strange reassurance from the company of a soul who could speak in something other then French. Her being a good example of the class of YHFs, was an added incentive. “And suddenly discovered after a kilometer or two that I didn’t know where on Earth I was. I’ve been wandering around in circles for hours.”
“Why didn’t you ask the way from someone?”
“I can’t speak a word of French.”
“Well, why didn’t you call a taxi?”
“I don’t have a lot of money with me right now.”
“You could have taken a taxi and then paid it when you had reached your hotel.”
“Yes, but I suddenly discovered, dash it, that I’d forgotten its name.”

And there in a nutshell, you have me. As absent-minded and vague a person as ever walked the streets of Paris, or Earth for that matter. Anyhow, we proceeded with our conversation.

“So, what are you doing here in Paris?” she enquired.
“Well,” I said solemnly, “I’ve come here to try and forget.”
“Well, you’ve certainly succeeded.”
“You don’t understand. The fact is, my dear, that my heart is broken. I’ll tell you the whole story.”
“No, I say!” she protested. But I was off.

(to be continued.......)

Monday, 11 June 2007


Democracy is a wonderful thing, you know. I mean, what with all the power residing with the public and all. Amazing stuff, I tell you. Everything is decided by majority. And India being the largest democracy in the world, it kinda makes me feel a bit proud to be an Indian. And to top it all, India also embraces other pretty charming virtues what with all the secularism and the Constitutional Freedoms and Rights given to everyone. Pretty good stuff, I tell you. And to add to all this nationalist fervour, we also sing songs about unity in diversity and stuff. You know, lots of people speaking various different lingos and having various customs etc etc living together rather chummily. And obviously I, as an ardent Indian, have to feel it as my foremost duty to maintain the what-do-you-call-it of my country. Oh yeah, the word I was looking for back there was “national integrity”. And hey, who has the guts to stop me from performing my duties with the utmost zeal.

So, one day I was happily chomping upon a delicious burger in the local Mc Donald’s outlet when my superior powers of observation made me notice that the mayonnaise was thickly spread between a layer of fresh tomatoes on the top and a layer of lettuce leaves at the bottom. Seeing this, I turned sick with the grotesque horror of it all. I mean to say that any Indian, when he realizes, that he was, in fact, eating something that bore the likeness of the what’s-it-called, the Tiranga, our national flag, which is the foremost symbol representing our nation’s integrity and all that sort of thing, should feel infuriated with the prospect. Immediately, I gathered a few of my like-minded mates and after stoning the Mc Donald outlet, burning a few effigies and calling a bandh for a few days, decided to take the matters to the court which ordered the Mc Donalds’ to discontinue the use of anything of the colours red, green and white in their burgers. My mates and I were feeling cheerily upped by this decision and what with the fact that we successfully defended the national integrity and all that sort of things. Doing my great country a service, you know.

Anyhow, after watching the terrifying spectacle of the Indian cricket team losing to Bangladesh, it brought about another surge of the nationalistic zeal in me. I mean, cricket is a religion here. And its purity and sanctity had been desecrated by a bunch of losers who dared to call themselves Indian cricketers. And the very notion of losing against a team representing a nation who we helped rescue and build quite a few decades ago is totally appalling. So, I, with a few of my chums, after having stoned the cricketers’ residences, burnt their bats, crushed their balls and stomped on their effigies, came back home feeling pretty happy with myself. You know, like morning sunshine and all that. I mean, we were doing a great favour to our country. Our motherland, if you are into that patriotic kinda stuff and all. Pretty rummy thing, I tell you.

And that’s when I realized that the power really was vested in the public. I mean if we all stood up and united and stoned and burned and made our displeasure known to those concerned, India does take heed. And what with my photos having made to all the front pages and the news channels. Why, that interviewer chick from that what-was-it news channel looked pretty hot, eh? Anyhow, I would have written more about my nationalist feelings but I’ve just seen the disgraceful Happydent advert. I mean, it’s a shame to portray human beings as lamps, you know. What with all the serfdom and the right to human rights stuff. Blatant slavery, I tell you. Maybe I’ll see you after I’ve stoned the residences of the creator of that advert and burnt their effigies. Because, frankly, if that isn’t the proper use of the Freedom of Expression, then I don’t know what is.


I was getting too bored during my internship. And out of sheer lack of activity, I decided to browse a dictionary in order to enhance my vocabulary. Mid-browse, I hit upon the idea to create my own dictionary with another (and more logical) meaning for already established words (or words that should have been, but are not, included in a dictionary). The following is the result of my efforts over 6 and a half hours…

Pro-rogue: A professional thief.
Thermo-couple: A couple who have "heated" arguments everyday.
Hipocris(p)y: A Hippo-potato-mus chips.
Sight-seeing: Web browsing
Web-site: A perfect place for a spider to live.
Butter-fly: This is when you throw butter out of the window.
Splint: To run very fast with a broken leg.
Casinova: A lover of gambling.
Spectacula(r): A short-sighted vampire.
Shellfish : A bit like a shelf.
Tad-pole : a quarter Polish.
Windsurfing : The hobby of Superman.
Cardiogram : A telegram to one's heart.
Banshee : Strictly for males.
Karaoke : A combat system popularly used to harm and even kill unsuspecting songs.
Deter-gents : Chemicals that "washes out" the males.
Postgraduate : Degree holder working in the mailing business.
Barbe(r)cue : The long line outside the barber's shop.
Robinson : When your male child begins to steal.
Airplay : Quidditch.
Microphone : A telecommunication device for bacteria.
Retreat : When you go back for a second helping of dessert!
Hum-bug : A tune that is bugging you!
espouse: Electronic spouse!
ex-am : My former self
Hydro-gen : The water generation
Alienate : To send into outer space.
Algorithm : The music of calculation.
Miss-ile : A destructive unmarried woman.
Con-found : When you have located a criminal.
De-sire : When you have lost your leader.
Pop-corn : Daddy corn.
Con-ference : A discussion of prisoners.
Lavatory : A contraption to contain magma.
In-car-nation : The country where everyone stays in their vehicles.
Con-traction : Friction between various inmates.
De-feat : A person whose legs have beem amputated.
Ex-act : A deleted scene from a play.
De-light : Dark.
Cuff-links : A chain of coughs. (You know, one guy coughs, then another guy, then another and so on..)