Retro

Its Onam holidaze again and iam wasting away the third day of the "four days of inactivity" bestowed upon me by my caring employer.
Having ensured my share of the feast at my Grandmother's place this afternoon the malayali in me is restless to scribble something about the legacy today. Confused about which role to don... Historian, Philosopher , naturalist or a cultural anthropologist.
Historian Deepu would be an oxymoron, iam not even well updated about the history of my family, one reason i hate family functions where i put up a pseudo smile looking bluntly at those strangers who r my supposed to be relatives trying desperately to remind me of the hours i spent with them :)

Accept my apologies dear Mrs.prema,rani,suma (They were my histroy teachers in high school) and any reader who knows more than Onam, CPI and karunakaran about kerala.

This secluded land of greenery protected by the western ghats in the east and the arabian sea on the west, formed from the silt brought down from the ghats by west flowing rivers.
Boasts of culture of its own entirely uninfluenced by any others in the country, the abode of black gold and spices, which found its mention in writings of al beruni and the chinese during the aryanization. Maybe the first kingdom in the country to practice foreign trade and fully flourishing sea ports
divided into venad, konad, kolathunad and thiruvithamkode and ambiguously named after CHERANAD or the KERAVRIKSHAM , fed by the south west monsoon which brings with it the festival of flowers every year for morons like me to sit at home and blog nonsense.

I love my state :)

Bovine Consecration... Err.

When a temple and numerous believers staged a standoff with the Wales Government, not only did it make headlines back in the country thirsty for controversies but also got splendid support from the e - world.



The scandevala website even featured live footage of the animal resting, pissing and chewing the cud.

But all this backed by a religious belief and not a humane cause.

Why in the world should a desecration come into picture, the "holy cow" as it is eulogized but never been interpreted the way it has to be.

My knowledge about the bovine consecration stems from the fact that the cow had never been mentioned as sacred , but in the Rg veda which says "Cow should not be killed"
The archives from an age when cow was used as a currency, cow was the economy, cow was the wealth. So killing one would basically mean destruction of wealth.
So does it go for eating the meat.Because it cant be eaten without killing it.

The problem is that we don't change. That is in effect right from the case of the archives of hymns that haven't changed for almost 3000 years and people tend to be ignorant of the fact that they were not protocols but eulogies and 'make life better' codes.

Half of the controversies in here arise from the ignorance of the fact that "Change is one thing that doesn't change".

Conclusion: One who kills the cow is an ahindu , so is the one who tears a 100 rupee note :)

Chak Diya? Check Again.....

This is one reason why I love the onam season in Kerala... The whole ambiance blows in some divinity in ur employer so that the management resorts to give away some utsav perks to its employees. So did it happen this year too and it was a sponsored show of the film Chak De India for its heavily e-patriotic employees.

The film almost made down to my expectations of a direct pluck and paste collage from a fistful of successful hollywood sports flicks with some routine CHOPRA masala thrown in but the work with the camera during the game sequences demands a standing ovation.

A review would be an idiotic thing to do here because there are guys with better stuff out there (No ..not Rajeev Masand in case you thought so) who can do a much better job.
So I would list downs some instances in the movie when I whole Heartedly Booed with the rest of the crowd.

1. Coach Khan wid ammi leaves India Rolling a scooter, maybe the local petrol wala refused to give him petrol, or his tyres were flattened because he was GADDAR.... hmmm.. emotional turbidity. (pardonable)

2.Emotional Breakdown of Mr.Khan on India winning the World Cup. Pathetic.... he whimpers and winces relying on facial contortions, think about Denzel Washington or sean penn enacting the same, you will feel the difference.(Unpardonable)

3.Khan returning to India wid ammi to mohalla still ROLLING the same scooter(bright and shiny as ever... good servicing eh),(The tyres were OK this time, so it should be the petrol). While a kid strikes out the word GADDAR written on the wall.....and after which, believe me it looked like the word BANDAR.
Its a wonder how a few crisscrosses can change a word... smirk. (Unpardonable)

4.When abhimanyu singh proposes preeti sabharwal on his knees in front of the press when she much emphatically rejects it. Truly out of place , cramped in , unnecessary situation.I wonder what made the director do this. Obviously even a "SAAS BHI" fan would reject that scene.(Unpardonable)

However , the Komal Chautala penalty shot and the background score during the games (Except the one when the girls were trailing to the mens team by 3-2) deserves an applause.

MRI- Most Revered Indian

Knowing all the farce that this sport is , yet it seems to be entertaining for some of us, like the looney tunes, muscular guys but potato heads who loose a match by climbing upside down from the ring while his opponent lands on his feet. The gimmicks , the abuse and the hype and some really pathetic acting and expressions mostly by the "all time loser"(atleast in the ring) chairman himself until I watched this.




The phirangis in saree performing Bhangra looks quite disgusting ,looking more like a tribal pagan ritual.
The sensible ones in the audience ring start to boo right from the second minute. As the acromegalized "most revered Indian" appears garlanded and booed accompanied by a thumbzilla.

After he fetches the microphone he talks wats supposed to be Hindi.

The first 10 seconds (precisely from 3:30) its like the rumble of a truck, or like he is gargling hot water, only the word Punjab pops out a bit clearly.

"Koi mere ko na hara saka, koi na harayega, main sabko zor zor se maaroonga"... he mumbles like a kid which the thumbzilla translates as "Khali said that he is the first and only champion from India"

The real shock was yet to come at 5:38, "Indians revere him like Mahatma Gandhi" where I wasn't laughing anymore.
The guy in the white coat is a truly ashamed Indian now. Look at his expression at 5:40.

Also look out for the comments

"Khali has liberated India,, the land of a billion people"

"What a handsome man khali is?" (Indian perspective of beauty highlighted....!!! )

Did the federation downsize the the nation's history?? well maybe another controversy in waiting

But I had a good laugh.... I pity u giant.

Mysore Blues

I always wanted to look a bit more excited than my peers when it came to sightseeing, and this one was special, here I was in a place which was pretty much the cradle of south India's resistance to british domination and which witnessed Tipu's rockets taking the british by surprise.
So I was a south Indian among a group of Northies with a pretty much pride swollen heart relishing every moment I spend in this relic a dominion of age old intelligence and valor.

So we were a part of a six month program that would metamorphosise the lax,care free college brat in me into a bread winning professional, I guess that didn't work out with me quite well. Well that would be dealt with in another gibberish.

We snitched out some time during the tight schedule and worked out a plan for a city sojourn. Myself enjoying an advantage of being in the place earlier and holding a Know_All nameplate (be it the local dialect or the alley ways , I had this terrible capacity to make people believe that I was the missing link between them and the vox populi )

The number 13 rickety bus dropped us at the city center , and we alighted with a detailed plan to visit five key points and be back the same spot in four hours.

The punjabis and marathis left each of them treasuring My mobile number t o SOS into if they got in trouble with the routes. Little did they know that their supposed to be savior himself was carrying a bunch of mobile numbers of local guys and his dad back home in case he gets lost. I never told them..... The chics should find at least something appealing about me .

Of course quite unnaturally we all made it back to the city center at almost 6.
First timers were exulting and trying to extract useful information from what the tourist guide had told them in his broken angrezi.
We still had ten minutes of wait time for the bus , so couple of us decided to venture into an adjacent savepuri stall.
Smelling around the stall I felt this urgent call in my groins which reminded me that I had not had a leak the whole day. Looking around I couldn't find a place without at least three guys. People everywhere... looking at you suspiciously... this is one time when I badly wished i had been in a desert.
Turning around I asked the stall wala for an available restroom nearby. He directed me to the barren land on the other side of the bus stand (if i had to go for that, I could have very well done it in front of his shop ), I insisted for a public loo when with a grimace he directed me to one corner of the stand.

It was getting dark and my visual senses started to get de-powered, relying on my olfactory senses I ventured to smell out the restroom (Luckily in My country it is quite easy).
My nose led me down a dark alley with considerable hustle at the end of it, a dimly lit room of the size of an aidpost bustling with people, mostly old.

I wondered what they were doing in such a place other than ,you know.. doing their waterworks.
They were simply hanging about, watching every new comer with a welcome smile.
I talked to my conscience, "Maybe a bunch of nostalgic guys, had been peeing in here for years and now had been quite obsessed with the smell and place", (I have a friend who thinks it is nostalgic to watch jurassic park)

I placed myself in one corner and started to have that leak i had been longing for, when a visibly stout man, pot bellied , in a decent attire anchored just beside me whispered "BEAUTIFUL"...
I looked at him, a black skinned sweaty figure, he had a cut on his nose like most of the boxers have and he was smiling, I smiled back, maybe a greeting or a vague complement.. i thought, but for what? and beautiful??? what in the world should that mean?

I was almost half way through when he hissed again...beautiful.....What the? I looked up at him, but he was not looking at me, He was looking at my " ". Whoa.... this guy is gay, so are the other guys in here, the old man started to walk towards us spread eagled , a nepali whacker popped his head out the adjacent slab with blood shot eyes.

I was becoming an instant celebrity... a celebrity in a fixation, My body was above my mind now,I was into something that my brain had no control on(waterworks still going strong),
Should I push them off? If so am I risking their enragement.
Should I turn around and piss at them? what if it didn't work? Then iam in the most vulnerable position.
I guess the old man, the stalwart of the gay lot was morally responsible for preying first while the minuend gays waited. I summed up the courage to hit him, luckily my leak dried up as soon as he lay his hands on me. In a jiffy I pushed him hard on his right shoulder and took to my heels, I could hear the laughs rocking the room and the alleyway which my feet left behind.
Were they laughing at the incapability of the old man or was it at me or was the whole thing a farce, a prank of some terribly bored sexagenarians... I am still not sure.

But that night , my salvation came at the price of me boarding the bus in the nick of time with an open fly , among howling friends.

Gandhi Chicken -- Cookin in Yerwada

Digest This!

Read the caption , i tried , failed miserably , contracted diarrhoea. :(
Brand marketing has stooped from mission munna to save munna to recipe munna.

"Chicken Sanju Baba" (The name speaks a lot, u sent him to jail and now u call him chicken?)
is selling like hot cakes in 100 yr old restaurant in mumbai.
Reason: HandWritten recipe of the same by Sanju da Gandhi Baba.

When the (visibly drunk) restaurant owner claims its authenticity and customers hail the dish, what difference is it going to make for a man who cant even dream of chicken for the next 6 yrs (or will it, sorry i dont know, i enjoy overlooking things)

and to go in as the latest into the archives of monotonous, boring,puffed up , vestigial dialoges were the host's comments after tasting the same

"ummhmmmm.....(with V fingers)... the masala just melts in ur mouth..."
Duh... wat did he expect? the masala to stick around his mouth??... then its not masala dude. it should be (*)um. (*) in {g,c,b.....}

Loosing Toothirginity

Hello Doctor,

My son is 8 yrs old and he still has not lost his first baby tooth. While all his friends have lost at least one , he is still going strong, there is not even a visible shake in any one of them. Should we resort to forcibly removing them, Iam scared for my son doctor.. will he be able to lead a normal life?
Yours Faithfully
Worried Parent

If anyone had come across the "Ask the Doctor" section in the "Aarogyamasika" a health publication in the early 90s then this worried guy wud ve probably been my father.
Everything was happening late to me. It appeared that not only the tooth fairy , but all the archangels responsible for bringing forth the boon of adolescence had totally deserted me.
As a proof of the graveness of my most pathetic state I can reveal one of my deep dungeon secrets now (I dint know anything about s## until i passed my tenth. I guess some of my friends must ve practiced that art form by then)

So such a loser I was , still digging my nose while the biggies in the class discussed about girls and hot aunties until one fine day my dear friend paul MS unleashed his fury on my deciduous duo.

Paul MS was the most energetic guy at the same time the most pathetic student of the class. Teachers abhorred him, girls feared him, and i hated his skin, skin with red rashes and blisters emanating soapy liquid when he scratched them with his long nails.

Bestowed with a degree in his name since his birth he knew how i hated his spores and would casually douse his finger with the shit that he squirted from his blisters and would chase me around the class threatening to smear my face with the same (pretty awkward...i used to run... i cudve turned around and spat at him )

So one day we were on our routine run, Paul MS pointing all the 5 fingers at me. My mission motto as always it has been was to keep him away until the class teacher came in.

I had almost succeeded and was running towards "freedom from chalam" over the wooden desks when the sadist in PaulMS uprooted the desk.
My knee poked into my face and my primaries were gone. not one but both. shattered and rocketed in 2 different directions.
I could feel my breath passing freely through the newly created crater in my mouth.

The teacher came in , caned paul for causing the bloodbath, I guess the class leader also got one for failure of action.

Paul was assigned with the benign task of finding my lost teeth because the teacher believed that scattered teeth are dangerous.
Paul crawled beneath the benches,scuffled through the bags until one was found in one of the open pencil boxes. But the other was never found :(

Paul swore not to use his pus weaponry again while my happy father welcomed a soul with a hole in the evening.

Mohana Revered Krishnan

pst pst.. one more school teacher goes absconding after getting involved in
maarder of her student.

Thrashing was an innate part of school life. Iam not talking about the teacher's chums behind the heavy prisms who left their seats only for their shit/pee routines but about the less privileged groundlings of the classroom. This used be the coup de grace of the teachers when it came to punishing . the last resort for that incorrigible soul after a series of magnum torturas like facing the wall, standing on the desk,getting expelled from the class to wait in the corridor (This was stopped after the exclusives teamed up in the corridor and started playing cricket) .

Thrashing tactics varied from using the wooden/steel scale on the palm(the line of applcation varied in angles for the desired effect) to something called "parathi adi" where the teacher would position himself almost in the middle of a group of excited students and swing his cane blindly like a lone warrior in a battle field. which would be followed by scores of hissing sounds and sour butts.

Everyone in the class loathed this physical abuse. Mohanakrishnan too hated it until one fine morning when the whole class started smelling of shit. The guys started accusing each other of answering the nature's call in his knickers. The monitor spoke at the podium and requested the anonymous shitter to leave the class. Not one soul moved.

As the teacher moved in with avid smile which slowly pilfered to make way to a frown as she pointed "What the $#%$#% is that"

Large footprints of pure shit smeared the floor right from the door to her desk.

"Mohanakrishnan's appa was here"..the bully shouted.

Mohanakrishnan, the son who was to pay for his dad's mistake waited impatiently, evidently scared for the risen cane to land on him. One raised leg in a desperate attempt to ward off and Mohanakrishnan was down clinching his balls.

In a frantic attempt to sustain Mohanakrishnan's progeny he was rushed to the only male teacher in the school, the Vice Principal................................................

High School.

The vice principal is caning the defaulters in the school assembly

New Guy : What abominable thing? A mere look from him makes me nervous.
A placid Mohanakrishnan : Who ? that guy.... U know one thing ... he held my balls.
(Reverend)