1. I wondered why the baseball was getting bigger. Then it hit me.
2. Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off? He's all right now.
3. I couldn't quite remember how to throw a boomerang, but eventually it came back to me.
4. He drove his expensive car into a tree and found out how the Mercedes bends.
5. There was a sign on the lawn at a drug re-hab center that said 'Keep off the Grass'.
6. Police were called to a daycare where a three-year-old was resisting a rest.
7. A small boy swallowed some coins and was taken to a hospital. When his grandmother telephoned to ask how he was a nurse said 'No change yet'.
8. To write with a broken pencil is pointless.
9. A bicycle can't stand on its own because it is two-tired.
10. There was once a cross-eyed teacher who couldn't control his pupils.
11. What did the grape say when it got stepped on? Nothing - but it let out a little whine.
12. Atheism is a non-prophet organization.
13. Some people's noses and feet are built backwards: their feet smell and their noses run.
14. Never lie to an x-ray technician. They can see right through you.
15. Two silk worms had a race. They ended up in a tie.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Moriarty
They all looked at Moriarty's eyes,
which were beady and cold as ice.
Moriarty carried on his shoulder the steel,
which since the morning he had managed to steal.
It had been kept aside to build the dam,
but of course Moriarty, he didn't care a damn.
The wall- half built, crumbled, letting fall a piece,
somehow with that, our hero felt a strange peace.
Moriarty was particular not to be seen,
as it was quite incriminating, the scene.
He therefore combed down his hair,
and disappeared promptly, into thin air.
And everyone looked around the bend,
not realising Moriarty had come to an end.
which were beady and cold as ice.
Moriarty carried on his shoulder the steel,
which since the morning he had managed to steal.
It had been kept aside to build the dam,
but of course Moriarty, he didn't care a damn.
The wall- half built, crumbled, letting fall a piece,
somehow with that, our hero felt a strange peace.
Moriarty was particular not to be seen,
as it was quite incriminating, the scene.
He therefore combed down his hair,
and disappeared promptly, into thin air.
And everyone looked around the bend,
not realising Moriarty had come to an end.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Dignity
He looked peaceful at last. Although the tears continued to well at the corner of his eyes.
Pachchayappa Thevar, born into a dirt poor family in Ramanathapuram in South India, was a self made man. At the tender age of 15, having lost both his parents in a famine, he had set sail for Malaya, a strange place he knew next to nothing about. There he did all manner of jobs, and through sheer grit, determination, hard work and resourceful entrepreneurship made a good life for himself. All his life he relied on no one, but helped out innumerable relatives, friends and even strangers.
He was blessed with a good wife, who supported him, and stood behind him unquestioningly, always. He rarely consulted Vedanayaki directly. But they communicated in a very subtle manner. Somehow, without saying it, Vedanayaki could convey her disagreement or displeasure. Although Thevar outwardly seemed to do everything as he thought fit, he somehow never did anything that his wife would even remotely disapprove of. And even if he were to do so, Vedanayaki would stand solidly behind him, as though she agreed wholeheartedly. The synergy was amazing.
They had two sons. Ganesan and Murugan. The best children anyone could ask for. And when they eventually got married, their wives were the best daughters-in-law you could ever imagine. Latha, Ganesan’s wife loved and cared for her in-laws as even a daughter would not. And Meena, the other daughter-in-law was no different.
And then Pachchayappa Thevar had the stroke. He was partly paralysed, and had to depend on Vedanayaki to move around. Pachchayappa Thevar withdrew into himself, and whenever he had to ask his wife for help, his voice was almost inaudible.
As if she couldn’t bear to see her husband’s condition, Vedanayaki died peacefully, only days later. Tragedy was not content. Another stroke. Thevar was completely immobilised and bedridden. He had to wear diapers. His sons brought the bedpan for his nature calls, and wiped him off daily. His two sons and daughter-in-law were appalled that Thevar had suffered this fate, but they were so loving in their care and attention. They doted on him. But for all their loving care, Pachchayappa Thevar resented his condition. More so his predicament. Being dependant on his wife had been bad enough, but this was unbearable. He wished they would leave him alone. He did not want to be seen in this condition, much less be helped by his children and their wives.
That morning, he sunk to a new low. His sons were away, and Meena came to change his diapers. He cringed in embarrassment. As she cleaned him, talking to him softly, with the true love of a daughter, Thevar closed his eyes. The tear drop rolled down his cheek. His brain stopped functioning. And his heart stopped beating.
Pachchayappa Thevar, born into a dirt poor family in Ramanathapuram in South India, was a self made man. At the tender age of 15, having lost both his parents in a famine, he had set sail for Malaya, a strange place he knew next to nothing about. There he did all manner of jobs, and through sheer grit, determination, hard work and resourceful entrepreneurship made a good life for himself. All his life he relied on no one, but helped out innumerable relatives, friends and even strangers.
He was blessed with a good wife, who supported him, and stood behind him unquestioningly, always. He rarely consulted Vedanayaki directly. But they communicated in a very subtle manner. Somehow, without saying it, Vedanayaki could convey her disagreement or displeasure. Although Thevar outwardly seemed to do everything as he thought fit, he somehow never did anything that his wife would even remotely disapprove of. And even if he were to do so, Vedanayaki would stand solidly behind him, as though she agreed wholeheartedly. The synergy was amazing.
They had two sons. Ganesan and Murugan. The best children anyone could ask for. And when they eventually got married, their wives were the best daughters-in-law you could ever imagine. Latha, Ganesan’s wife loved and cared for her in-laws as even a daughter would not. And Meena, the other daughter-in-law was no different.
And then Pachchayappa Thevar had the stroke. He was partly paralysed, and had to depend on Vedanayaki to move around. Pachchayappa Thevar withdrew into himself, and whenever he had to ask his wife for help, his voice was almost inaudible.
As if she couldn’t bear to see her husband’s condition, Vedanayaki died peacefully, only days later. Tragedy was not content. Another stroke. Thevar was completely immobilised and bedridden. He had to wear diapers. His sons brought the bedpan for his nature calls, and wiped him off daily. His two sons and daughter-in-law were appalled that Thevar had suffered this fate, but they were so loving in their care and attention. They doted on him. But for all their loving care, Pachchayappa Thevar resented his condition. More so his predicament. Being dependant on his wife had been bad enough, but this was unbearable. He wished they would leave him alone. He did not want to be seen in this condition, much less be helped by his children and their wives.
That morning, he sunk to a new low. His sons were away, and Meena came to change his diapers. He cringed in embarrassment. As she cleaned him, talking to him softly, with the true love of a daughter, Thevar closed his eyes. The tear drop rolled down his cheek. His brain stopped functioning. And his heart stopped beating.
Napoleons
"Excuse me sir, how to go to Putrajaya ?" The young man had a sad demeanor. "We came to immigration to get my mother's passport stamped, but they asked us to go to Putrajaya".
I thought for a while. I had never had this problem - getting to Putrajaya without a car. I could only think of "Take a cab". The young man looked down sadly. Then he looked at the elderly lady hovering in the background - presumably his mother.
"அய்யா பஸ்ஸு எதும் இல்லையா ? " *, she sounded resigned. I looked at her. Some small time official was giving these poor folks the run around. It is difficult enough to find a place in Putrajaya if you are driving; how in the world are these folks going to get there in a bus ?
* Ayya, Bus ethum illaya ? (Sir, are there no buses?)
I thought for a while. I had never had this problem - getting to Putrajaya without a car. I could only think of "Take a cab". The young man looked down sadly. Then he looked at the elderly lady hovering in the background - presumably his mother.
"அய்யா பஸ்ஸு எதும் இல்லையா ? " *, she sounded resigned. I looked at her. Some small time official was giving these poor folks the run around. It is difficult enough to find a place in Putrajaya if you are driving; how in the world are these folks going to get there in a bus ?
* Ayya, Bus ethum illaya ? (Sir, are there no buses?)
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Kollangode Ramachandran Sivaramakrishnan
It was dark and the fluid was warm. A stirring. And then a miraculous experience. A feeling. Consciousness. A palpitation. The single chamber in the midst contracts, pushing blood through the still developing conduits. The contractions repeat periodically, beginning the rhythmic pumping which will continue for several decades.
An impulse. A contraction. A limb extends. Stillness. The pull of gravity. A feeling of floating. A reflexive arching of the body. A coldness. Inexplicable feelings. A spasm, resulting in fluid entering the yet incomplete mouth. A sweet taste on the tongue. A coldness within the guts.
A new experience: muted sounds. Patterns of sounds. The eyelids open. A glow. Vague shapes. A sudden movement pushes the head down. A mild unpleasant feeling – pain. More spasms. An object near the mouth. An instinctive opening of the mouth. The first pleasurable suckling of the thumb.
A jarring and violent event. The walls pushing in. It is crowded and uncomfortable. The area is dry. The pushing action repeats with increasing frequency. New experiences. Mild pain and discomfort. And suddenly - blinding light. Jarringly bright objects. Loud sounds. Coldness. Stinging smells. Foreign beings handle me.
“Me” – a new concept. The link is cut. I hang head down. My chest expands. Air enters for the first time. The heart beats furiously. A loud sound emanates from within me. I am placed next to a warm body. I recognise the body, its warmth, smell, taste – all familiar. I suckle. All is well. Deep peaceful sleep.
They look down at the tiny bundle. It brings a smile of joy to everyone’s face. This is Kollangode Ramachandran Sivaramakrishnan. Just arrived.
An impulse. A contraction. A limb extends. Stillness. The pull of gravity. A feeling of floating. A reflexive arching of the body. A coldness. Inexplicable feelings. A spasm, resulting in fluid entering the yet incomplete mouth. A sweet taste on the tongue. A coldness within the guts.
A new experience: muted sounds. Patterns of sounds. The eyelids open. A glow. Vague shapes. A sudden movement pushes the head down. A mild unpleasant feeling – pain. More spasms. An object near the mouth. An instinctive opening of the mouth. The first pleasurable suckling of the thumb.
A jarring and violent event. The walls pushing in. It is crowded and uncomfortable. The area is dry. The pushing action repeats with increasing frequency. New experiences. Mild pain and discomfort. And suddenly - blinding light. Jarringly bright objects. Loud sounds. Coldness. Stinging smells. Foreign beings handle me.
“Me” – a new concept. The link is cut. I hang head down. My chest expands. Air enters for the first time. The heart beats furiously. A loud sound emanates from within me. I am placed next to a warm body. I recognise the body, its warmth, smell, taste – all familiar. I suckle. All is well. Deep peaceful sleep.
They look down at the tiny bundle. It brings a smile of joy to everyone’s face. This is Kollangode Ramachandran Sivaramakrishnan. Just arrived.
Lateral thinking
Questions:
1. Acting on an anonymous phone call, the police raid a house to arrest a suspected murderer. They don't know what he looks like but they know his name is John and that he is inside the house. The police bust in on a carpenter, a lorry driver, a mechanic and a fireman all playing poker. Without hesitation or communication of any kind, they immediately arrest the fireman. How do they know they've got their man?
2. How could a baby fall out of a twenty-story building onto the ground and live?
3. There are six eggs in the basket. Six people each take one of the eggs. How can it be that one egg is left in the basket?
4. A man was driving alone in his car when he spun off the road at high speed. He crashed through a fence and bounced down a steep ravine before the car plunged into a fast flowing river. As the car slowly settled in the river, the man realized that his arm was broken and that he could not release his seat belt and get out of the car. The car sank to the bottom of the river. He was trapped in the car. Rescuers arrived two hours later, yet they found him still in the river, but alive. How come?
5. A man buys rice at $1 a kilo from American growers and sells them at $0.05 a kilo in Africa . As a result of this he becomes a millionaire. How come?
Answers:
1. He was the only man. The others were women
2.The baby fell out of a ground floor window
3. The last person took the basket with the last egg still inside
4. The water in the river only came up to the man's chest
5. The man is a philanthropist who bought great quantities of rice to sell to poor people at prices they could afford. He started out as a billionaire, but lost so much money in his good works that he became a millionaire!
ok, one more:
Q. A man writes nonsensical blogs and several others spend their time reading them. How come?
A. This one you answer yourself....
1. Acting on an anonymous phone call, the police raid a house to arrest a suspected murderer. They don't know what he looks like but they know his name is John and that he is inside the house. The police bust in on a carpenter, a lorry driver, a mechanic and a fireman all playing poker. Without hesitation or communication of any kind, they immediately arrest the fireman. How do they know they've got their man?
2. How could a baby fall out of a twenty-story building onto the ground and live?
3. There are six eggs in the basket. Six people each take one of the eggs. How can it be that one egg is left in the basket?
4. A man was driving alone in his car when he spun off the road at high speed. He crashed through a fence and bounced down a steep ravine before the car plunged into a fast flowing river. As the car slowly settled in the river, the man realized that his arm was broken and that he could not release his seat belt and get out of the car. The car sank to the bottom of the river. He was trapped in the car. Rescuers arrived two hours later, yet they found him still in the river, but alive. How come?
5. A man buys rice at $1 a kilo from American growers and sells them at $0.05 a kilo in Africa . As a result of this he becomes a millionaire. How come?
Answers:
1. He was the only man. The others were women
2.The baby fell out of a ground floor window
3. The last person took the basket with the last egg still inside
4. The water in the river only came up to the man's chest
5. The man is a philanthropist who bought great quantities of rice to sell to poor people at prices they could afford. He started out as a billionaire, but lost so much money in his good works that he became a millionaire!
ok, one more:
Q. A man writes nonsensical blogs and several others spend their time reading them. How come?
A. This one you answer yourself....
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Yudhdhavarman
Yudhdhavarman. The name conjures up war and all things gory. But Yudhdhavarman was quite a sathvik person. Yudhdhavarman made acquaintances easily, but had few real friends. He had no enemies. If he got into an argument with somebody, it would bother him until he was sure the other person had forgiven and forgotten. He was nice and readily offered his help. He wanted to go out of his way to be nice to people. But somehow, he conveyed a forbidding figure. People thought he was a fierce chap. They avoided Yudhdhavarman.
Yudhdhavarman was a homebody. Whenever he was at the office or anywhere outside the home, he longed to go home. He loved to be home, with his wife and children. He liked to be close to them and enjoyed it when he was talking to his wife or his son and daughters.
But Yudhdhavarman had a problem. His wife and children did not share his likes.
Shantidevi, his wife, was ever smiling, and had a friendly disposition. She was popular. Everyone loved her. She had many close friends, and was out with them most of the time. But she loathed Yudhdhavarman. She just had contempt for him. Shantidevi thought her husband was a silly fool. He spoke too much, and he also did silly things, probably without thinking. She hated Yudhdhavarman and avoided him. To her, he was a failure as a husband.
Sumeetha and Vineetha, the teenage twin daughters of Yudhdhavarman just couldn’t care less for their father. To them, he hardly existed. He was irrelevant. They were in a world of their own, but they had a soft spot for their mom. They were rarely home, and when they were, they were behind closed doors, in their room, giggling away, talking to each other or their friends, or on the phone texting. Or chatting on Twitter.
Vineeth, Yudhdhavarman’s son was not much different. He was constantly reading. He rarely talked. But sometimes he made an exception. To talk to his mother. Occasionally he would look up with pity at his father. And maybe give a half-hearted smile. He didn’t think much about his father. His father was not very different from the furniture. Always there. Only thing was that he talked all the time.
Yudhdhavarman resigned himself to his fate, but continued to go home early, and tried to be with his wife and children as much as he could. Which further aggravated the resentment of his wife and children. Until that fateful morning when everything changed.
Yudhdhavarman was home. He did not have to go to work anymore. His wife was at his side all the time, talking to him. The children too were close by. The whole family was together. All of them were doting their attention on Yudhdhavarman. They were waiting for his words. They had so many questions, so many things to talk to him about. But Yudhdhavarman was not talking to them. He had no more words.
Yudhdhavarman was a homebody. Whenever he was at the office or anywhere outside the home, he longed to go home. He loved to be home, with his wife and children. He liked to be close to them and enjoyed it when he was talking to his wife or his son and daughters.
But Yudhdhavarman had a problem. His wife and children did not share his likes.
Shantidevi, his wife, was ever smiling, and had a friendly disposition. She was popular. Everyone loved her. She had many close friends, and was out with them most of the time. But she loathed Yudhdhavarman. She just had contempt for him. Shantidevi thought her husband was a silly fool. He spoke too much, and he also did silly things, probably without thinking. She hated Yudhdhavarman and avoided him. To her, he was a failure as a husband.
Sumeetha and Vineetha, the teenage twin daughters of Yudhdhavarman just couldn’t care less for their father. To them, he hardly existed. He was irrelevant. They were in a world of their own, but they had a soft spot for their mom. They were rarely home, and when they were, they were behind closed doors, in their room, giggling away, talking to each other or their friends, or on the phone texting. Or chatting on Twitter.
Vineeth, Yudhdhavarman’s son was not much different. He was constantly reading. He rarely talked. But sometimes he made an exception. To talk to his mother. Occasionally he would look up with pity at his father. And maybe give a half-hearted smile. He didn’t think much about his father. His father was not very different from the furniture. Always there. Only thing was that he talked all the time.
Yudhdhavarman resigned himself to his fate, but continued to go home early, and tried to be with his wife and children as much as he could. Which further aggravated the resentment of his wife and children. Until that fateful morning when everything changed.
Yudhdhavarman was home. He did not have to go to work anymore. His wife was at his side all the time, talking to him. The children too were close by. The whole family was together. All of them were doting their attention on Yudhdhavarman. They were waiting for his words. They had so many questions, so many things to talk to him about. But Yudhdhavarman was not talking to them. He had no more words.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Travel hazards
'Sar, how to go to fort?'
I looked at him. 'Sorry, I am new to Tiruchi'.
I was in the huge Srirangam temple when another man came up. 'Sar, when do they close the Ambal Sannithi?' And before I had finished explaining that I did not have the faintest clue, another chap came up, 'ப்ரசாதம் எங்கே கெடைக்கும்? ' *
'சார் சென்னை போற train இந்த platform லதானே வரும்?' ** This when I was wondering which platform my train to Bangalore would arrive at.
' ఖగఘఙ చఝఞ టఠఢణ నబ యరల ?' ***
'Sorry, don't know Kannada'.
I had to repeat this to many as the train neared Bangalore, professing my ignorance of not only the answers these eager folks sought, but the language they spoke in too. My wife spent nearly a half hour listening to a woman, who just ignored her pleas of ignorance of Kannada, and proceeded to interrogate her in staccato bursts punctuated by short sessions of what appeared to be lamentations on my wife's unresponsiveness.
We are now approaching Andhra Pradesh, the land of the Telugus, a race renowned for their inborne curiosity and childlike inquisitiveness. Haigh... I foresee more of the same...
* Prasadam enge kidaikum ? (where can I get Prasadam?)
** Sar, Chennai pora train intha platformla thane varum ? (Sir, will the train to Chennai come to this platform ?)
*** This one is just gibberish la.
I looked at him. 'Sorry, I am new to Tiruchi'.
I was in the huge Srirangam temple when another man came up. 'Sar, when do they close the Ambal Sannithi?' And before I had finished explaining that I did not have the faintest clue, another chap came up, 'ப்ரசாதம் எங்கே கெடைக்கும்? ' *
'சார் சென்னை போற train இந்த platform லதானே வரும்?' ** This when I was wondering which platform my train to Bangalore would arrive at.
' ఖగఘఙ చఝఞ టఠఢణ నబ యరల ?' ***
'Sorry, don't know Kannada'.
I had to repeat this to many as the train neared Bangalore, professing my ignorance of not only the answers these eager folks sought, but the language they spoke in too. My wife spent nearly a half hour listening to a woman, who just ignored her pleas of ignorance of Kannada, and proceeded to interrogate her in staccato bursts punctuated by short sessions of what appeared to be lamentations on my wife's unresponsiveness.
We are now approaching Andhra Pradesh, the land of the Telugus, a race renowned for their inborne curiosity and childlike inquisitiveness. Haigh... I foresee more of the same...
* Prasadam enge kidaikum ? (where can I get Prasadam?)
** Sar, Chennai pora train intha platformla thane varum ? (Sir, will the train to Chennai come to this platform ?)
*** This one is just gibberish la.
fi yuo cna raed tihs
fi yuo cna raed tihs, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55 plepoe out of 100 can. i cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Ui nervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!
God's mind
The thousands of people sat silently. Some in deep meditation. Others fidgeting and shifting uncomfortably. It had been a long wait in the hot hall. Made even more unbearable because every conceivable article is banned - phones, cameras, books , music; even pencils and water.
I chanted the gayatri. And soon, the music started. Bhagavan came on his motorised wheelchair. There was hushed silence amidst the excitement among the crowd. Many stood up, or tried to kneel, to get a better view, only to be chided by the seva dals. As the thousands of pairs of eyes focused on the slight and fragile looking figure in bright orange, what was going on in the minds of the multitude? Fervent prayers possibly - for health, money , family or other problems, pleas for children from the childless, husbands from the husbandless, wives from the wifeless (and possibly from those not satisfied with one), requests for more money, education, career, business - endless petitions.
And not to forget the tall orders for world peace and everyone's well-being from the smattering of good souls.
Then I thought - but what about Swami - what was going on in His mind? Even a supercomputer cannot conceivably handle this many demands simultaneously! That is the power of God. All prayers, pleas, cries for help are answered. But not necessarily in the way we expect - God does it in His own way.
I chanted the gayatri. And soon, the music started. Bhagavan came on his motorised wheelchair. There was hushed silence amidst the excitement among the crowd. Many stood up, or tried to kneel, to get a better view, only to be chided by the seva dals. As the thousands of pairs of eyes focused on the slight and fragile looking figure in bright orange, what was going on in the minds of the multitude? Fervent prayers possibly - for health, money , family or other problems, pleas for children from the childless, husbands from the husbandless, wives from the wifeless (and possibly from those not satisfied with one), requests for more money, education, career, business - endless petitions.
And not to forget the tall orders for world peace and everyone's well-being from the smattering of good souls.
Then I thought - but what about Swami - what was going on in His mind? Even a supercomputer cannot conceivably handle this many demands simultaneously! That is the power of God. All prayers, pleas, cries for help are answered. But not necessarily in the way we expect - God does it in His own way.
Hiatus
Capel waited impatiently. Soon the woman appeared. Damn, she had someone with her. No choice. Capel signalled Mori. He waved back. Soon they had both the women in the van, a sack over their respective heads.
'Listen carefully. No time. Your woman with us. Hear her', Mori pushed the phone near Hema.
'Please dear, I'm scared , help, they caught us'. Mori grabbed the phone.
'Tomorrow get ready 1 million. I call. No police, or your woman dead'.
Deepan was dazed for a while. It was working but, could he have heard it right? Did she say 'us'?
He was thoughtful for a while. Then he called Veera. 'Listen, Veera, there is an emergency. I need some cash, fast'.
'What's up? How much?'
'They got Hema. They want a million. I just got the call.'
'What! Hema? Who is behind it? Did she speak to you? When did this happen?'
'Veera, look here. There is no time. These guys are desperados. I need the cash today. He will call tomorrow.'
'A million... thats a lot of money... And Hema .. she could be in danger. Lets call Supt. Abraham. But I'll get the money,'
'He said no cops; just get me the money.'
'Deepan, make sure nothing happens to my sister,'
'Then you stop talking about the cops. Just get the money.'
Capel looked in the bag, and did a quick count. He called Mori.
'This guy's playing games. I want you to take care of the two and dispose the bodies. Now. And disappear. Don't call me.'
Veera was furious. He stormed in shouting. 'I gave you the money. You promised Hema'll be ok',
Deepan had bloodshot eyes, 'I don't know. These guys are desperados. I told you. They took the money and still hurt her.' he sobbed.
Mori was not pleased. A nasty job. He had to do the dirty work for nothing. Not only get the women but knock them off and dispose them too. All for nothing.
Capel smiled to himself. A million bucks, and the clown Mori got the job done for free.
Deepan chuckled. That was a master move - getting Veera to pay for his own sister's hit job. He had his freedom at last. And it had come free!
Viswa couldn't get over it. Why ? Rajes had just been with this Hema woman when she was abducted, and had died for no other reason. He sobbed as he watched his year old son sleeping peacefully.
'Listen carefully. No time. Your woman with us. Hear her', Mori pushed the phone near Hema.
'Please dear, I'm scared , help, they caught us'. Mori grabbed the phone.
'Tomorrow get ready 1 million. I call. No police, or your woman dead'.
Deepan was dazed for a while. It was working but, could he have heard it right? Did she say 'us'?
He was thoughtful for a while. Then he called Veera. 'Listen, Veera, there is an emergency. I need some cash, fast'.
'What's up? How much?'
'They got Hema. They want a million. I just got the call.'
'What! Hema? Who is behind it? Did she speak to you? When did this happen?'
'Veera, look here. There is no time. These guys are desperados. I need the cash today. He will call tomorrow.'
'A million... thats a lot of money... And Hema .. she could be in danger. Lets call Supt. Abraham. But I'll get the money,'
'He said no cops; just get me the money.'
'Deepan, make sure nothing happens to my sister,'
'Then you stop talking about the cops. Just get the money.'
Capel looked in the bag, and did a quick count. He called Mori.
'This guy's playing games. I want you to take care of the two and dispose the bodies. Now. And disappear. Don't call me.'
Veera was furious. He stormed in shouting. 'I gave you the money. You promised Hema'll be ok',
Deepan had bloodshot eyes, 'I don't know. These guys are desperados. I told you. They took the money and still hurt her.' he sobbed.
Mori was not pleased. A nasty job. He had to do the dirty work for nothing. Not only get the women but knock them off and dispose them too. All for nothing.
Capel smiled to himself. A million bucks, and the clown Mori got the job done for free.
Deepan chuckled. That was a master move - getting Veera to pay for his own sister's hit job. He had his freedom at last. And it had come free!
Viswa couldn't get over it. Why ? Rajes had just been with this Hema woman when she was abducted, and had died for no other reason. He sobbed as he watched his year old son sleeping peacefully.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Monkey mind
By the time Marco reached the tree, it had dawned. A few people sat still under the tree, in meditation. The birds were raising a cacophony. Marco selected a spot which he thought was safest. He did not want to be splattered with bird droppings. As he closed his eyes, his thoughts were focused - on the birds. It sounded like a war was going on above his head. He could hear their droppings falling all around him. Marco decided to ignore them. He will not let the birds spoil his concentration.
And then, all of a sudden, the birds fell silent. Marco could not believe the miracle he had witnessed. Through sheer will power, through his meditation, he had silenced the birds!
And then he heard a different type of sound. He looked up. A group of monkeys had taken over the tree. So that was what had silenced the birds. Marco closed his eyes again, and tried to ignore the monkeys, and the variety of insects that they were shaking off the tree, on to Marco. His monkey mind refused to be still. It was focused on the monkeys and what they were up to.
And then, all of a sudden, the birds fell silent. Marco could not believe the miracle he had witnessed. Through sheer will power, through his meditation, he had silenced the birds!
And then he heard a different type of sound. He looked up. A group of monkeys had taken over the tree. So that was what had silenced the birds. Marco closed his eyes again, and tried to ignore the monkeys, and the variety of insects that they were shaking off the tree, on to Marco. His monkey mind refused to be still. It was focused on the monkeys and what they were up to.
Prashanti
Just back, after a wonderful period at Prashanti. Elevating daily routine - early mornings under the meditation tree and going twice daily for darshan. Although on most days Swami did not come for the morning dharshan. A lot of gayatri chanting. Joyful chanting along, whenever vedas were chanted - thanks are due to Bro Siva.
The food - simple and healthy. And of course, catching up on sleep. And the blogs. Almost everyday there would be some germ of a blog idea.
The amazing thing was - during the week long stay, I met only 1 person I knew! Suhu. And being the reclusive I am, I met just 2 new people!
An unforgettable experience was with the sevadal who manned the telephone booth. He forgot to speak softly and lovingly, and shouted violently at a poor Colombian woman, while many of us watched helplessly. Being the silent witness in this case took some effort, and I am sure had some sadhana value.
The food - simple and healthy. And of course, catching up on sleep. And the blogs. Almost everyday there would be some germ of a blog idea.
The amazing thing was - during the week long stay, I met only 1 person I knew! Suhu. And being the reclusive I am, I met just 2 new people!
An unforgettable experience was with the sevadal who manned the telephone booth. He forgot to speak softly and lovingly, and shouted violently at a poor Colombian woman, while many of us watched helplessly. Being the silent witness in this case took some effort, and I am sure had some sadhana value.
Suhu
There was this man by the name of Suhu.
Many many travails he did go through.
Once he got high fever, 100°, his suhu.
He sat on a chair, and downed a bitter brew,
but could not get up, for he was stuck, with uhu.
This was the story of the unlucky Mr.Suhu.
(disclaimer note-none of the characters in the above so-called poem refer to any fictitious person or persons and any apparent reference is purely coincidental, so help me God.)
Many many travails he did go through.
Once he got high fever, 100°, his suhu.
He sat on a chair, and downed a bitter brew,
but could not get up, for he was stuck, with uhu.
This was the story of the unlucky Mr.Suhu.
(disclaimer note-none of the characters in the above so-called poem refer to any fictitious person or persons and any apparent reference is purely coincidental, so help me God.)
Telugulu
There is this race in the great land of Andhralu,
Which goes by the common name of Telugulu.
The reason these people are well knownulu,
Is their tendency to end all words with a lu.
They were loyal to this practice, without failulu,
Come hail, firestorm or high seasulu,
They never once forgot their lu.
But then it became a little too muchulu,
Even considering the blind faith of the telugulu,
That one of their outstanding memberlu,
Thought fit to label the men's room a loolu.
(disclaimer note-no offencelu, to the great people of Telugu landulu.)
Which goes by the common name of Telugulu.
The reason these people are well knownulu,
Is their tendency to end all words with a lu.
They were loyal to this practice, without failulu,
Come hail, firestorm or high seasulu,
They never once forgot their lu.
But then it became a little too muchulu,
Even considering the blind faith of the telugulu,
That one of their outstanding memberlu,
Thought fit to label the men's room a loolu.
(disclaimer note-no offencelu, to the great people of Telugu landulu.)
Stan, Joe, Rags & Anna
The old lady sat on the rocking chair, holding the heavy volume. She read slowly under her breath, rocking slowly to the rhythm, occasionally looking up, as if in wistful thought. Just then, the door opened, and they entered amidst loud and animated conversation, oblivious to the old lady's presence.
'Joe, you really need to get a hold on yourself. What good is getting worked up gonna do?', Stan sounded exasperated. 'Its just a game. And junior league at that.'
Anna came to Joe's side, 'But Rags really batted pretty well last season. The coach said so himself.'
'I just gotta give it to this coach. If anyone should be benched, its him,' the normally calm Joe was pretty worked up.
The old lady looked up. She had had enough. She put down the Gita, and removed her glasses.
ஏண்டா, உங்க எல்லாருக்கும் நல்ல சாமி பேரும், எங்க அப்பாபேரும் வெச்சோம், அதபோயி இப்படி கொச்சப்படுத்தி “Joe” வும் “Stan” ம் “Rags” ம் “Anna” வும் !
இது உங்களுக்கே நல்லா இருக்கா ? அழகா அன்னபூரணி, ராகவன், ஜோதிலிங்கம், ஸ்தாநுமூர்த்தின்னு வாய் நெறய கூப்பிடுங்கோ. போற வழிக்கு புண்ணியத்த தேடிக்குங்கோ. கர்மம் கர்மம். சிவ சிவ.
'Joe, you really need to get a hold on yourself. What good is getting worked up gonna do?', Stan sounded exasperated. 'Its just a game. And junior league at that.'
Anna came to Joe's side, 'But Rags really batted pretty well last season. The coach said so himself.'
'I just gotta give it to this coach. If anyone should be benched, its him,' the normally calm Joe was pretty worked up.
The old lady looked up. She had had enough. She put down the Gita, and removed her glasses.
ஏண்டா, உங்க எல்லாருக்கும் நல்ல சாமி பேரும், எங்க அப்பாபேரும் வெச்சோம், அதபோயி இப்படி கொச்சப்படுத்தி “Joe” வும் “Stan” ம் “Rags” ம் “Anna” வும் !
இது உங்களுக்கே நல்லா இருக்கா ? அழகா அன்னபூரணி, ராகவன், ஜோதிலிங்கம், ஸ்தாநுமூர்த்தின்னு வாய் நெறய கூப்பிடுங்கோ. போற வழிக்கு புண்ணியத்த தேடிக்குங்கோ. கர்மம் கர்மம். சிவ சிவ.
Poovan's ailment
Poovan saw it on time fortunately,
as the swellings rose bulbously.
They were soon quite apparent, even olfactorily.
A serious ailment, decidedly.
To the shaman he went haltingly,
he hoped to be cured, seemingly.
Poovan explained to the man falteringly.
The shaman was convincing, creatively,
the medicines cured, he claimed, reassuringly.
Poovan was hesitant, understandably,
but relented, and the balm was applied methodically.
This soon made things worse, seriously,
and caused Poovan to bloat immensely.
Nature took over ultimately,
and brought a happy ending of sorts finalily.
Except for Poovan who departed explosively,
and the shaman who was thrashed unceremoniously.
as the swellings rose bulbously.
They were soon quite apparent, even olfactorily.
A serious ailment, decidedly.
To the shaman he went haltingly,
he hoped to be cured, seemingly.
Poovan explained to the man falteringly.
The shaman was convincing, creatively,
the medicines cured, he claimed, reassuringly.
Poovan was hesitant, understandably,
but relented, and the balm was applied methodically.
This soon made things worse, seriously,
and caused Poovan to bloat immensely.
Nature took over ultimately,
and brought a happy ending of sorts finalily.
Except for Poovan who departed explosively,
and the shaman who was thrashed unceremoniously.
Why ?
It seemed such an insignificant thing. Yet Raghavan was unable to put it out of his mind. Why had Hari acted the way he had?
Flashback 5years ago. Raghavan and his wife Aandal had just moved to Belgaum. And being devout Vaishnavites, they starred frequenting the Perumal Temple in their neighbourhood. Every Friday without fail. The couple would be there, praying. Soon they joined the bhajan group there. And that's where they met Hari.
The Raghavans were childless, despite having been married for 20 years. Despite their fervent prayers. Nothing had changed. Not their barren marriage. Neither had this diminished their devotion to Perumal, who had apparently turned a deaf ear to their pleas.
Aandal had resignedly come to terms with this. But not Raghavan. He would look longingly at children, silently pine for some of his own. He would often fantasise how his life would be like, with a son, or daughter. Somehow Hari filled this deep seated need for Raghavan. The teenage Hari was quiet, studious, well behaved , religious... In short, the model child. And to top it all, he seemed to long for a father, despite having one of his own. Raghavan and Hari clicked fabulously. They joked, laughed, had long conversations on the phone , sms'ed and emailed each other, and shared big chunks of each others' lives, their hopes & dreams, worries & fears, and even their funny and embarrassing moments.
For a while Aandal was worried, mildly and inexplicably jealous; and Hari's parents too were concerned.
Years passed thus. Then there came a period of time. Both Raghavan and Hari were preoccupied with their own lives and rarely met or talked. It just happened that way. And then one day, they met. And Hari told Raghavan he had got married a month ago. Raghavan could not believe it. His son, Hari? Got married without telling him? What injustice. He looked shell-shocked. He just stood there as Hari introduced his new wife to 'Mr Raghavan', and walked away laughing with his arms around her.
Flashback 5years ago. Raghavan and his wife Aandal had just moved to Belgaum. And being devout Vaishnavites, they starred frequenting the Perumal Temple in their neighbourhood. Every Friday without fail. The couple would be there, praying. Soon they joined the bhajan group there. And that's where they met Hari.
The Raghavans were childless, despite having been married for 20 years. Despite their fervent prayers. Nothing had changed. Not their barren marriage. Neither had this diminished their devotion to Perumal, who had apparently turned a deaf ear to their pleas.
Aandal had resignedly come to terms with this. But not Raghavan. He would look longingly at children, silently pine for some of his own. He would often fantasise how his life would be like, with a son, or daughter. Somehow Hari filled this deep seated need for Raghavan. The teenage Hari was quiet, studious, well behaved , religious... In short, the model child. And to top it all, he seemed to long for a father, despite having one of his own. Raghavan and Hari clicked fabulously. They joked, laughed, had long conversations on the phone , sms'ed and emailed each other, and shared big chunks of each others' lives, their hopes & dreams, worries & fears, and even their funny and embarrassing moments.
For a while Aandal was worried, mildly and inexplicably jealous; and Hari's parents too were concerned.
Years passed thus. Then there came a period of time. Both Raghavan and Hari were preoccupied with their own lives and rarely met or talked. It just happened that way. And then one day, they met. And Hari told Raghavan he had got married a month ago. Raghavan could not believe it. His son, Hari? Got married without telling him? What injustice. He looked shell-shocked. He just stood there as Hari introduced his new wife to 'Mr Raghavan', and walked away laughing with his arms around her.
Contra-indication
Sweepingly in contradiction,
Delusions, by God,its constipation!
The warm cocoon of vindication,
Grandiose design, leading to emancipation.
Little drops of rain, in anticipation,
Self proliferating hallucination.
Quite contrary, to my expectation,
Be that it may, a contra-indication.
Delusions, by God,its constipation!
The warm cocoon of vindication,
Grandiose design, leading to emancipation.
Little drops of rain, in anticipation,
Self proliferating hallucination.
Quite contrary, to my expectation,
Be that it may, a contra-indication.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
