My friend and I were very incompetent students. Both of us were academic disasters and our skills at other art forms and sports ranged from the very minimal to non-existent. Our parents put us in a reasonable school and gave us every exposure to every kind of "schoolish" torture :) My well oiled curly hair kept the most modest of plain Janes away from me and his very identifiable squint meant that he would look one way and wink the other. Most girls would have given him a shot, if only they could decide which one he was winking at.
I used to be a fair sportsman...well I guess when you are a boy... you are just good at sports.. you are not a sportsman.. well... i am wondering.... if there is a term called a sportsboy or sportsgirl... sorry.. for digressing...
It was a hot Tuesday and our promised "Games" period turned out to be a rehearsal time for the school's annual day function. The drill was very confusing for me and half the time, I would either have my hands up in the air when every other was down or I would have inadvertently stomped on my neighbour's shoes doing the wrong drill. It was not going anywhere and I needed to get out of this. The oldest trick in the book was "The Loo", but it can hurt if asked in unison. My dumb moron friend timed his request to perfection with mine. The request was turned down. Now the master would not even heed to genuine calls of nature, further compounding the agony. I felt like pelting him with every stone I could find around me.
The master relented after about an hour and said that we would break for 15 mins and start again. We ran, we relieved, and we escaped :) We slid into the library since I was sure that it would be last place to be searched. Even if we were found, "us Einsteins were looking up reference for our physics project". I congratulated myself on this great brain wave! My friend stood looking at me admiringly, not understanding an alphabet of my reasoning. I gave up. We strolled across the hallway and soon were standing in front of the school's only functioning musical instrument. A Jurassic age Harmonium! My joy knew no bounds and I told that we should try our hand at it. He quickly agreed. I told him that learners need to work as a team. He was to dedicate the entire prowess of his clumsy hands to the movement of the front portion of the Harmonium, while I with my nimble fingers was to play the keys.
He started of frantically and the initial pressing of the keys resulted in the sound of clumsy air coming out from ,where, I could not tell. I looked at him questioningly, clearing the air around my nose and he pleaded absolute ignorance. He went hard at it again, this time, one sound came from the 10 million key combinations I had tried in those 10 seconds. It sounded like two steel chairs moving on the black board. He was crestfallen and I decided to whip up a symphony to soothe his nerves. I told him to pull it back and hold it there. He did as instructed and out of no where, there came a clutter of sounds! Each as loud as it could get and I remember our Sanskrit teacher wailing as loudly as she sang, "Aeeee kaun hobe! (She was a Bengali)" or something to that effect. I remember running through the back door yelling "Aham Gachati! Aham Gachati!" (I am going! - in Sanskrit)
Another time, a classmate of mine was deeply absorbed in the experiment he was conducting in the chemistry lab. And my energies were focused on getting to the watchman's house next to the lab to see the score of the cricket match that was going on. He made quick notes and in that inimitable adolescent way, made fun of me by saying that I was a thorough incompetent fool and that I would fail every exam that a first grader could pass. I usually do not argue, especially if it is the truth you are staring at. Sigh... the story of my life...
I yawned twice before starting the "Salt Test". I did not have the faintest idea of what was to be mixed and how the result was to be procured. What followed was surely fun! :) My chemistry teacher knew my name only because there were only so few of us in that batch :) She tried to help me a lot. She told me she prayed that the weakest students in my batch and then Karthik should pass chemistry in the board exams. Well, I was happy, It does not matter where I am in that list, atleast I am there. :)
My friend was staring at the beaker as he held it over the Bunsen burner. I was purposefully looking away, trying very hard to hear that faint commentary. Then I smelt something burning... I quickly turned around and saw that our friend here had his tie in flames! Our "Faster Fennay" here tugged at his shirt instead of the tie. I could not help smiling initially and then decided that I must rescue him. By that way perhaps, that girl I was hoping to speak to would know that I studied in the same school as hers! :) Before I could claim my heroism, he tore his shirt off. The tie was later pulled out and flung with such alarm that for once I heard those typical "Girly Screams". Our dim wit forgot that it was the chemistry lab and his shot put could have landed anywhere.
Well, we all survived that evening. He boarded that bus like a pregnant lady. His bag covered the huge gaping hole the fire had made on his shirt. I actually tried to persuade him to keep it open saying that it looked like a style statement. He glared and locked his fist and I made a fast exit.
Brings a smile when I think of those days. I could be careless and yet get away with what looked like murder at that time. Today I think many times before saying or doing anything. Perhaps with childhood goes innocence. Jog your memory and I am sure that there are many smiles hidden in your more innocent days than there are now.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Inflammatory Aspirations
It was an exceptional Sunday. The chill in the air was wrapped in gentle sunlight and there was only one colour when you looked up, Blue. It must have been around 7 AM and after a hot cuppa, I was wondering what to do. The morning was just so gorgeous that I could not help going out into the veranda to just soak it in. It was time to get vintage I thought. I tuned into the satellite radio. Searched until I found a station that was playing old jazz and reggae. No questions please! I just about know the spellings of these great art forms!! :-)
There are times when your spirits are lifted by something most ordinary. The music was nothing I could understand. But hey! that does not mean you cannot enjoy it. That is when i decided to do something I have mostly refrained from doing. It is a matter of safety and environmental hazards. It demanded dexterity of the fingers and the mind. It is like a potter at work. As he moulds the clay with finesse, you can almost see the shape getting life. It is like an artist with a brush in hand, as the white changes colors, you see the larger picture. An amalgamation of your creativity as you set out to create something that is entirely yours. The sequence and the consequence. This a ballet where you are the orchestra and the grand master. A wrong lyric could send out waves of disharmonious notes that can jar your ear. A melodious one can delight the heavens....
In case you have just yawned, I was thinking of cooking..
Hmm.. So where do we start, I wondered. The web yielded many recipes, but none that I could feel were simple enough.
"8 ounces cream cheese, 3/4 cup apricot preserves or strawberry jam, 1/4 cup finely ground pecans" - There are at least 7 words in the above line that I did not know the meaning of and even if I had the above ingredients at home, I would not know without them being marked so.
As you would have begun to realize, my culinary skills never developed like the 100 million other skills that also did not. As a human being, I think I have about 4 or 5 skills and most are developed well below average. The funny thing is that I cannot list beyond 2 or 3 of the 4 or 5 I have mentioned above :) So, life can be very hard for a person like me. But that Sunday deserved better and I set out to make Dosa's. You get these instant dosa mixes at the local groceries, I have friends who can vouch that there is always a stock of "Instant this", "Instant that" in my kitchen.
Armed with that paste, I added some more water and decided to go for creativity. Cut tomatoes and spread the paste on the pan.
Sunday means WWE time :) and it was King of the Ring! Undertaker v Triple H!!! Lord was it captivating! After sometime the smell from the kitchen was also captivating.
First dosa was harder than a diamond, so I named that fellow - Black Diamond and said - "Yeah , Yeah "- with a pathetic Afrikaans accent. The next time I was more careful, Thank god for commercials :) allows you to take your eyes of TV. The second one was spread well and I was standing right there to ensure that our Black Diamond did not have a twin. My ENIAC age memory meant that something was again forgotten and it meant that though this one was Black Diamond's German cousin, it still was stuck at many places and the over all figure could accurately describe the hole in the ozone layer. I named this fellow - "An Inconvenient Truth" - "How true," I sighed.
The next one was "Casino Royale" and then the last one was "The Departed". The music that Sunday morning was exceptional, the weather still glorious. The match on mute was rousing and I thought it was a perfect ending. My last attempt at adding some spices to the dosa mix resulted in a small fire on my frying pan. As it raged, I stood shocked. Like "Courage the cowardly Dog", I picked up the vessel and threw it in the sink and opened water..... Well... life is always about learning. I learnt that afternoon that "Burnol" helps, but slowly..
So my dear reader. It was a great Sunday. I quickly recovered from my inflammatory aspirations of cooking. My ambitions are more modest now and are restricted to coffee making and maggie. The rice is cooked too, but I stand at a safe distance until the "My- mother-mandated" four whistles of the cooker are not over. Then I run and switch off the gas and run away again. I ate my "Black Diamond, An Inconvenient Truth and The departed" with a lot of water. Most of the morsels were swallowed like tablets, but "Casino Royale" was eaten with a lot of satisfaction.
I do wish another Sunday like this came and I was able to cook up another breakfast like this. Only this time I will douse any inflammatory Aspirations that I may have before I literally "Burn my fingers" :))
There are times when your spirits are lifted by something most ordinary. The music was nothing I could understand. But hey! that does not mean you cannot enjoy it. That is when i decided to do something I have mostly refrained from doing. It is a matter of safety and environmental hazards. It demanded dexterity of the fingers and the mind. It is like a potter at work. As he moulds the clay with finesse, you can almost see the shape getting life. It is like an artist with a brush in hand, as the white changes colors, you see the larger picture. An amalgamation of your creativity as you set out to create something that is entirely yours. The sequence and the consequence. This a ballet where you are the orchestra and the grand master. A wrong lyric could send out waves of disharmonious notes that can jar your ear. A melodious one can delight the heavens....
In case you have just yawned, I was thinking of cooking..
Hmm.. So where do we start, I wondered. The web yielded many recipes, but none that I could feel were simple enough.
"8 ounces cream cheese, 3/4 cup apricot preserves or strawberry jam, 1/4 cup finely ground pecans" - There are at least 7 words in the above line that I did not know the meaning of and even if I had the above ingredients at home, I would not know without them being marked so.
As you would have begun to realize, my culinary skills never developed like the 100 million other skills that also did not. As a human being, I think I have about 4 or 5 skills and most are developed well below average. The funny thing is that I cannot list beyond 2 or 3 of the 4 or 5 I have mentioned above :) So, life can be very hard for a person like me. But that Sunday deserved better and I set out to make Dosa's. You get these instant dosa mixes at the local groceries, I have friends who can vouch that there is always a stock of "Instant this", "Instant that" in my kitchen.
Armed with that paste, I added some more water and decided to go for creativity. Cut tomatoes and spread the paste on the pan.
Sunday means WWE time :) and it was King of the Ring! Undertaker v Triple H!!! Lord was it captivating! After sometime the smell from the kitchen was also captivating.
First dosa was harder than a diamond, so I named that fellow - Black Diamond and said - "Yeah , Yeah "- with a pathetic Afrikaans accent. The next time I was more careful, Thank god for commercials :) allows you to take your eyes of TV. The second one was spread well and I was standing right there to ensure that our Black Diamond did not have a twin. My ENIAC age memory meant that something was again forgotten and it meant that though this one was Black Diamond's German cousin, it still was stuck at many places and the over all figure could accurately describe the hole in the ozone layer. I named this fellow - "An Inconvenient Truth" - "How true," I sighed.
The next one was "Casino Royale" and then the last one was "The Departed". The music that Sunday morning was exceptional, the weather still glorious. The match on mute was rousing and I thought it was a perfect ending. My last attempt at adding some spices to the dosa mix resulted in a small fire on my frying pan. As it raged, I stood shocked. Like "Courage the cowardly Dog", I picked up the vessel and threw it in the sink and opened water..... Well... life is always about learning. I learnt that afternoon that "Burnol" helps, but slowly..
So my dear reader. It was a great Sunday. I quickly recovered from my inflammatory aspirations of cooking. My ambitions are more modest now and are restricted to coffee making and maggie. The rice is cooked too, but I stand at a safe distance until the "My- mother-mandated" four whistles of the cooker are not over. Then I run and switch off the gas and run away again. I ate my "Black Diamond, An Inconvenient Truth and The departed" with a lot of water. Most of the morsels were swallowed like tablets, but "Casino Royale" was eaten with a lot of satisfaction.
I do wish another Sunday like this came and I was able to cook up another breakfast like this. Only this time I will douse any inflammatory Aspirations that I may have before I literally "Burn my fingers" :))
Monday, October 20, 2008
Rural Verdict
I had a hard time explaining where I was working. The old man sat on an old chair in the porch and with a frown harder to remove than grease stains, the task was onerous to say the least. "GE, General Electric," I cried. "Chee Chee, your father educated you so much and with such expense for you to turn out to be a lowly electrician??? ", was the informed reply. Not that there is anything lowly about being an electrician, it is just that if you are educated in the cities, then the only job you should be having is a government job. I did not pass that judgement, our dear old chap did.
"No, No, I am not an electrician, I ...... well..... I fix computers, "I said. Well, I thought it was close enough to say that I was a help desk support technician. It did nothing to improve matters. He was convinced that I was bluffing. In my part of the town, the "electrician-next-door" often doubled up as a computer repair man. At the time of this incident, there were about 10 computers in my home town. So you should be beginning to see how difficult the task was getting. I then tried explaining the whole contact center thingy. He now howled that I was after all a phone operator. Gosh! this was demeaning! Though thoroughly frustrated, I vowed to have it explained what my job was.
Well, how do you even start telling a seventy year old man who has not seen much beyond a 50 KM radius of his hometown, what being technical support analyst was. I then resorted to talking about how big the city is and the different kind of jobs that are available for young people like me. He listened without the slightest trace of interest. I told him the diversified business interests of the company that I worked for. He blinked twice and spat out the remaining tobacco leaves. He nodded his head as if to say, "Go on, I am listening". I had to bring out a super weapon. I told him I had been to America to get trained on the job. He looked slightly interested. "Very cold there?", he asked. "Yes, we went in December", I explained. "Did you see Ice (snow fall for the uninitiated)?" "Yes"
I was beginning to hope that he would now start showing some interest in the job I was doing.
He yawned and asked me how much I was earning a month. I blushed a bit, but said it was nice and things were looking up. He then asked sternly what the number was. I don't know why I did it, but I told him. He looked up startled. I was grinning inside.
"Who the hell will give you a wife!!?", he suddenly announced.
"Madan earns three times, why? He is with the municipality! Narayanan's dad is going to retire from the postal department. Guess who gets his job?? Narayan ofcourse!"
A few other examples perplexed me. I suddenly felt myself in the middle of a court sentencing me to life time service of this old man. The only solace I thought would be the small number of years he had left. The death knell came soon afterwards. A small talk resulted in me saying that I work odd hours. Well, I think you know what happened afterwards.
I failed miserably to impress the old man. I was not there asking for his daughter. The one's he had were already expecting grand children. He died sometime later and when I was told about it, I remembered this conversation.
This rural verdict on urban efforts of a "modern" lifestyle.
I have long since moved on from that job. I must confess that I am slightly lucky. I do have a decent job, and the hours are not all together odd. There are varying degrees of learning to be had from this event.
The old man thought little beyond his convention and I thought little beyond my own. He was used to a languid stroll to a rundown building at 9.30 AM in the morning after a heavy breakfast. I was used to my cabbie wailing the horn for me at 9 in the night. He would come home to coffee in the evening and doordarshan's serials in the night. I would come home to coffee and breakfast in the morning and sleep till the evening. Contrasting, yet conventional for both parties.
The point is that it would have made little difference if I were the old man and he the young I. So much for different personalities :)
"No, No, I am not an electrician, I ...... well..... I fix computers, "I said. Well, I thought it was close enough to say that I was a help desk support technician. It did nothing to improve matters. He was convinced that I was bluffing. In my part of the town, the "electrician-next-door" often doubled up as a computer repair man. At the time of this incident, there were about 10 computers in my home town. So you should be beginning to see how difficult the task was getting. I then tried explaining the whole contact center thingy. He now howled that I was after all a phone operator. Gosh! this was demeaning! Though thoroughly frustrated, I vowed to have it explained what my job was.
Well, how do you even start telling a seventy year old man who has not seen much beyond a 50 KM radius of his hometown, what being technical support analyst was. I then resorted to talking about how big the city is and the different kind of jobs that are available for young people like me. He listened without the slightest trace of interest. I told him the diversified business interests of the company that I worked for. He blinked twice and spat out the remaining tobacco leaves. He nodded his head as if to say, "Go on, I am listening". I had to bring out a super weapon. I told him I had been to America to get trained on the job. He looked slightly interested. "Very cold there?", he asked. "Yes, we went in December", I explained. "Did you see Ice (snow fall for the uninitiated)?" "Yes"
I was beginning to hope that he would now start showing some interest in the job I was doing.
He yawned and asked me how much I was earning a month. I blushed a bit, but said it was nice and things were looking up. He then asked sternly what the number was. I don't know why I did it, but I told him. He looked up startled. I was grinning inside.
"Who the hell will give you a wife!!?", he suddenly announced.
"Madan earns three times, why? He is with the municipality! Narayanan's dad is going to retire from the postal department. Guess who gets his job?? Narayan ofcourse!"
A few other examples perplexed me. I suddenly felt myself in the middle of a court sentencing me to life time service of this old man. The only solace I thought would be the small number of years he had left. The death knell came soon afterwards. A small talk resulted in me saying that I work odd hours. Well, I think you know what happened afterwards.
I failed miserably to impress the old man. I was not there asking for his daughter. The one's he had were already expecting grand children. He died sometime later and when I was told about it, I remembered this conversation.
This rural verdict on urban efforts of a "modern" lifestyle.
I have long since moved on from that job. I must confess that I am slightly lucky. I do have a decent job, and the hours are not all together odd. There are varying degrees of learning to be had from this event.
The old man thought little beyond his convention and I thought little beyond my own. He was used to a languid stroll to a rundown building at 9.30 AM in the morning after a heavy breakfast. I was used to my cabbie wailing the horn for me at 9 in the night. He would come home to coffee in the evening and doordarshan's serials in the night. I would come home to coffee and breakfast in the morning and sleep till the evening. Contrasting, yet conventional for both parties.
The point is that it would have made little difference if I were the old man and he the young I. So much for different personalities :)
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Purani Jeans aur Guitar!
have always believed that happy memories are perhaps the strongest reason why a human being wakes fit and fine everyday. If not for them, the mind has to be willed with infinite power to do the basic things in life. I have had the luck to associate myself with some very happy memories in my life.With rivalry at its peak and fire spewing out of adolescent eyes, cricket matches between boys are nothing short of war. We had two teams in the colony we resided in and ofcourse there was no love lost between us. We never spoke to each other and played in different areas of the playground. Funny thing was not many of us knew why the animosity :) But like in politics, knowledge is not always required, just a heightened sense of alignment to one group. Typically lasting between 4.30 PM to 7.00 PM in the evening. Post that it was a marriage of convenience to acedemics. Typically October and November of an acedemic year affored the maximum laxity from our parents to indulge in sports. Great advantage was taken out of this leniency.A cricket match on Saturday! I was owefully out of form and my captain decided to drown me further down the batting order. To most swashbuckling colleagues of mine, I was an eyesore with staunch defensive cricket. Add to that my form and I was hoping to be lucky enough to carry water to the middle. But since it was a bet of 220 rupees, we had to find every boy who could shell out 20 rupees. That is how I got into the playing eleven. Money does talk! :)We were asked to bat first and I dont remember anything of our batting or mine. I believe we made a modest total, half of which were made two batsmen and then a lot by extras and then some by what we call "Tondi" :) (let us just say unscrupulous means). By devious means we managed to make them bowl about 22 overs in a 20 over game. Duly there was a fight, duly things pacified. At the break between innings, my captain looked at me disdainfully and wondered aloud where to have me field. That was embarrasing enough, he then remarked that I also dont run well after the ball. So after many "brain storming" sessions, I was sent off to field at third man where they thought the ball would come the least. For the first few overs, life was a bliss. I stood there often collecting harmless balls and rolling them back to the keeper.Virgin islands dont remain undiscovered forever, they soon found out the Jonty Rhodes of the side. I suddenly found an increased frenzy of balls coming my way. Twice I hurt my elbow, courtesy my clumsy fielding. The captain grew desperate and in a strange move, put me in slips!What is the worst he can do? He must have thought, drop a catch? The surface was so slow that the only catch a slipper could take was one when the keeper threw him the ball. Well, guess what?A batter poked at a ball and it came my way, I went to my right before realising it was going to my left. Like a blite gazelle I turned and grasped the speeding ball which was travelling at close to 20 kms an hour and flicked it back towards the stumps. Ofcourse I was looking somewhere else when I threw it. A few moments later, my astounded team mates rushed to me to congratulate me for my exceptional effort. The bloke was run out and I also found that my antics had hastened the end of my worn out shirt near my armpits. Ofcourse I never gave a high five the entire match with my right hand :)Miracoulously, I also took another catch a little later. This time, I was determined to protect my ugly face and got hit on the shoulder in return and the balls dobbled into my hands. Nothing else came my way, except standing there and irritating the keeper. He soon grew tired of me and stopped talking to me. I havent met him after that, so in many ways, those were his last words....... to me :))The same devious means employed by our "friendly" opposition meant that we were bowling the 23rd over in a 20 over chase. It all boiled down to the last 2 balls and they needed 3 to win. The batter skied one and I gasped as I saw that it was falling around me. The keeper looked at me once and decided that there was too much investment at stake to risk a rookie with this catch. I still remember vividly that he pushed me off the ball's trajectory and completed the catch. He claimed his heroisim. I was just glad that I got my 20 rupees back. The extra earnings were ofcourse to be contributed to the "development" of the game at our club. Development included small eats and some cold drinks.I still do remember very vividly the glorious sense of joy that engulfed the entire team. The boys rushing from all parts of the ground. Hugging each other and shouting as loudly as their vocal chords would allow them to. The smile was hard to remove from our faces. More joy came when we saw our "arch" enemy vanquished. We did shake hands later but it was hardly meant :)This remains a beautiful memory till this day. I will write in more when the time comes.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Hail a Belly :)
No, really, pardon the pun here. It is not for a moment pointed to rhyme with the name of a very talented actress in Hollywood. Just a rhyme to my little muse here.
As I stared at the strange looking contraption in the mirror, I could only sigh deeply with resignation. I was now qualified to apply for the foster's adverstisement for beer titled "Australian Belly Dance". I can run the onlooker the peril of staring at the gateway of india if I opened my mouth; and God forbid If I decide to don swimming trunks, then hippos will look positively handsome. My maker must have had a specially bad hair day when he was at it. May be he was working overtime, it must not have been one of his greatest pieces of work. Well, it is hard to make amends thirty years on. It becomes even harder considering that my maker also bestowed me with laziness and a very weak will. Well done sire! :)
So let us see what we can do about this. Many months ago, the fear of apprearing like one of those early morning ad models worried me immensely. The similarity between the 60 year old man and me was unmistakable! I tried to find solace in the age difference, but my receding hairline more than adequately compensated for that. I also realised that the side view of the ad model closed resembled my side view in the dirty mirror in my house. There was my imposter lying on the ground with his feet apparently stuck in a contraption that shook him upto his waist. He would come gleaming after about 2 minutes claiming that he could now woo college going girls! I fast loosing this epic war and I needed to do something about it. So the brave heart that I am , I plunged headlong into the whirlpool of excercising and gyming.
These ad makers must be very creative. The old man had become even more younger. He had added to his reportiore, a sleek waist and also black hair. The more the products the company made, the younger he seem to become. I immediately checked on the internet to see if the company was into vampirisim and if they added human blood in their products to reduce age. My adversary had gained a formidable lead.
Day 1 was nice. It lasted 45 minutes. I was asked to first do pushups. I am hard of hearing (a very handy convinence); he must have said anything above 10; I heard about 10; I managed 2 and also an uncontrollable laughter from a very good looking girl working out nearby. Well, I quickly changed my attention to something more humane. The cycle seemed a more welcoming prospect. This one did not need to be balanced and I could ride it without injuring anyone. I sat on it and started pedalling with great fury. Apparently someone had set the settings to operate the cycle as if on an incline. 3 minutes into this drill, I found myself gasping and gulping down water and looking for a place to sit. My trainer asked if I would like to go home.
Damn those ads! The old man was now actually jogging in the park!
Days 2 to 5 are inconsequential, incase you have read till here to wonder why, dont try too hard, I never went to the gym. Suddenly I got a bank statement, which showed I had paid a certain gym a good sum of money. I visited them again that evening.
The trainer looked away with disgust and the girl went away with someone I could never beat at arm wrestling. It is a fair world. After doing some strange circus tricks that were being rehearsed by others, I found to my glee a treadmill. That day I was in the gym for close to an hour, 50 minutes. I sat for about 30 mins and cycled and walked for the rest of the time. After this intense excercise, I went and slept well. My dinner contained enough oil to turn me into something like Shiek Karthik.
The trainer decided that he would have nothing to do with me. So he avoided all contact with a product, he knew he could nothing about. Not many good samaritans are left who would like to lend a helping hand to ugly bettys. So I went from machine to machine trying to see which one made me look as if I had been working hard and also at the sametime did not make a fool of me.
Each passing day, I had pain in a new place in my iron constitution. Must have been the rust!
The girl was apparently so disgusted with my face and built, she changed her timings. I work for a company that asks - How many lives have you changed today?.......... No, It is ok, there is no point answering the obvious. The old man from the morning ad, had now gone to look for a girl for himself and he was discussing marriage dates. Damn!
While at this, I decided if I could do something about my face. Hmmmm................... I thought for sometime, and then somemore, and then somemore. Then had a heavy lunch. And again thought for somemore. Naaahh! Plastic surgery is way too expensive. Moreover, what will happen to all those lovely people who have always had a good laugh at my looks. So in the greater interest of mankind, I decided that I would give them every joy i could by appearing as good as possible. The possibility was just like my good looks, both of them never existed. In the meanwhile, the count of women who spoke to me declined and those that smiled at me needed to be searched using a radio telescope. Those that liked me..... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!! (Dont strain yourself, I will do the laughing for you!)
Well, the next morning, I waited for the newspaper and then scanned them to see if the old man had published his marriage dates. Not yet, but he was already meeting the third girl.
Two weeks into my gyming, I created a record of sorts by discovering that I am actually good at two machines. Both were easy to try and my hands would also not get swollen. I soon became a laughing stock at home. I request the dear reader to part with some valuable sympathy. Come on! this is tough life! I cannot sing, My face can get me to kabul, my physique can get me back to hyderabad. People at work were very happy to see me every morning. Perhaps I was their stress buster.People at home could not do much so they laughed in silence.
I thank my friends for allowing me to come with them. Perhaps my uglyness enhances their photos :) anything to make them happy :)
In the meanwhile, my belly grew and is still growing inspired by the booming indian economy. So I told myself, even if this belly goes off, there is no escaping my face. So might as well, take what life has to offer. Life has been kind and perhaps I am getting what I am getting due to fact that my belly ensures that I only do work that can grow it.
As I stared at the strange looking contraption in the mirror, I could only sigh deeply with resignation. I was now qualified to apply for the foster's adverstisement for beer titled "Australian Belly Dance". I can run the onlooker the peril of staring at the gateway of india if I opened my mouth; and God forbid If I decide to don swimming trunks, then hippos will look positively handsome. My maker must have had a specially bad hair day when he was at it. May be he was working overtime, it must not have been one of his greatest pieces of work. Well, it is hard to make amends thirty years on. It becomes even harder considering that my maker also bestowed me with laziness and a very weak will. Well done sire! :)
So let us see what we can do about this. Many months ago, the fear of apprearing like one of those early morning ad models worried me immensely. The similarity between the 60 year old man and me was unmistakable! I tried to find solace in the age difference, but my receding hairline more than adequately compensated for that. I also realised that the side view of the ad model closed resembled my side view in the dirty mirror in my house. There was my imposter lying on the ground with his feet apparently stuck in a contraption that shook him upto his waist. He would come gleaming after about 2 minutes claiming that he could now woo college going girls! I fast loosing this epic war and I needed to do something about it. So the brave heart that I am , I plunged headlong into the whirlpool of excercising and gyming.
These ad makers must be very creative. The old man had become even more younger. He had added to his reportiore, a sleek waist and also black hair. The more the products the company made, the younger he seem to become. I immediately checked on the internet to see if the company was into vampirisim and if they added human blood in their products to reduce age. My adversary had gained a formidable lead.
Day 1 was nice. It lasted 45 minutes. I was asked to first do pushups. I am hard of hearing (a very handy convinence); he must have said anything above 10; I heard about 10; I managed 2 and also an uncontrollable laughter from a very good looking girl working out nearby. Well, I quickly changed my attention to something more humane. The cycle seemed a more welcoming prospect. This one did not need to be balanced and I could ride it without injuring anyone. I sat on it and started pedalling with great fury. Apparently someone had set the settings to operate the cycle as if on an incline. 3 minutes into this drill, I found myself gasping and gulping down water and looking for a place to sit. My trainer asked if I would like to go home.
Damn those ads! The old man was now actually jogging in the park!
Days 2 to 5 are inconsequential, incase you have read till here to wonder why, dont try too hard, I never went to the gym. Suddenly I got a bank statement, which showed I had paid a certain gym a good sum of money. I visited them again that evening.
The trainer looked away with disgust and the girl went away with someone I could never beat at arm wrestling. It is a fair world. After doing some strange circus tricks that were being rehearsed by others, I found to my glee a treadmill. That day I was in the gym for close to an hour, 50 minutes. I sat for about 30 mins and cycled and walked for the rest of the time. After this intense excercise, I went and slept well. My dinner contained enough oil to turn me into something like Shiek Karthik.
The trainer decided that he would have nothing to do with me. So he avoided all contact with a product, he knew he could nothing about. Not many good samaritans are left who would like to lend a helping hand to ugly bettys. So I went from machine to machine trying to see which one made me look as if I had been working hard and also at the sametime did not make a fool of me.
Each passing day, I had pain in a new place in my iron constitution. Must have been the rust!
The girl was apparently so disgusted with my face and built, she changed her timings. I work for a company that asks - How many lives have you changed today?.......... No, It is ok, there is no point answering the obvious. The old man from the morning ad, had now gone to look for a girl for himself and he was discussing marriage dates. Damn!
While at this, I decided if I could do something about my face. Hmmmm................... I thought for sometime, and then somemore, and then somemore. Then had a heavy lunch. And again thought for somemore. Naaahh! Plastic surgery is way too expensive. Moreover, what will happen to all those lovely people who have always had a good laugh at my looks. So in the greater interest of mankind, I decided that I would give them every joy i could by appearing as good as possible. The possibility was just like my good looks, both of them never existed. In the meanwhile, the count of women who spoke to me declined and those that smiled at me needed to be searched using a radio telescope. Those that liked me..... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!! (Dont strain yourself, I will do the laughing for you!)
Well, the next morning, I waited for the newspaper and then scanned them to see if the old man had published his marriage dates. Not yet, but he was already meeting the third girl.
Two weeks into my gyming, I created a record of sorts by discovering that I am actually good at two machines. Both were easy to try and my hands would also not get swollen. I soon became a laughing stock at home. I request the dear reader to part with some valuable sympathy. Come on! this is tough life! I cannot sing, My face can get me to kabul, my physique can get me back to hyderabad. People at work were very happy to see me every morning. Perhaps I was their stress buster.People at home could not do much so they laughed in silence.
I thank my friends for allowing me to come with them. Perhaps my uglyness enhances their photos :) anything to make them happy :)
In the meanwhile, my belly grew and is still growing inspired by the booming indian economy. So I told myself, even if this belly goes off, there is no escaping my face. So might as well, take what life has to offer. Life has been kind and perhaps I am getting what I am getting due to fact that my belly ensures that I only do work that can grow it.
So hail the belly :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)