(Mis)fortune Teller

When reading the Sunday paper, one section that I usually avoid like the plague is the "Week ahead" column, which predicts your forthcoming week based on your zodiac sign. It's my strong conviction that this column is usually written by someone who's out of touch with reality (like Subramaniam Swamy). Getting someone to read this particular section of the paper is the best method for lulling him into a false sense of security along with asking him to install the latest upgrade from Microsoft. If you don't believe me grab hold of a sunday paper and check it out for yourself. Without exception every single column under each of the 12 zodiac signs would predict a rosy, fun-filled week where everything you do will be a roaring success and everything you touch will turn to gold. Yeah, right.

To prove my point let me narrate one such personal experience of mine. A few years ago I did the most foolish thing by reading the above mentioned "week ahead" column and believing in it with all the gullibility of a credit-card bearing tourist shopping in Burma Bazaar. In fact the predictions for that week just stopped short of unequivocally stating that I would win the million dollar lottery. I'll reproduce an actual account of that particular week along with the stated predictions and you can judge for yourself.

There is a strong possibility of a new romance on the horizon.
While dining in the college canteen that week, I spotted a pretty young thing sitting all by herself sipping juice. After desperately trying for 5 long minutes (it was long, ok), I succeeded in making eye contact. I gave her a Roger Moore-esque raised eyebrow look which I hoped would successfully translate as, "Hey there! How you doin?" All I got in return was a dirty look from her, that if translated would mean, "Don't even think about it, dumbass. Who do you think you are, George Clooney? And wipe that stupid look off your face. You're not Roger Moore either" And that killed whatever romance I was hoping for that week.

Students and Professionals will experience a stellar change in fortunes.
I nearly flunked a test, got reprimanded for completing a shoddy assignment, got my project proposal rejected (the faculty actually stated that my proposed project was fit for kindergarten level) and to top it all my viva voce went for a six. It was a stellar change in fortune alright, but not the kind I was hoping for.

Friends and relatives will lend a helping hand in a manner unexpected.
After the faculty rejected the project proposal, I learned that my project partner and friend was secretly lobbying behind my back to get himself transferred to another project group, leaving me in the lurch. That was truly unexpected indeed.

Career people will get a much awaited boost.
My precious hard drive crashed and on successful re-installation crashed yet again. Need I say more.

You might be required to make an overseas trip.
That's right! In my dreams I took a trip as far as Hawaii.

Money flow will remain steady throughout the week.
I don't even want to go into that one. Suffice to say that my financial position that week was as tight as Adnan Sami in an aircraft toilet.

Avoid speculation.
Oh yeah? Thanks for the advice. I'm a major player in the stock market you see and I was wondering if I might sell short some of the technology stocks from my burgeoning portfolio. Now thanks to this esteemed piece of advice I'll lay off that for now.

You see what I'm talking about. None of the stated predictions matched the actual events that happened during the course of that week. This convinced me that all that's written in the fortune column is just a bunch of baloney. And if you take a look carefully you'll notice that the same predictions are recycled week after week. What might be written for Aries this week will be reproduced under the section for Leo next week. There might be a clever rewording here and there and a subtle sentence reorganizing. Other than that it's the same old stuff spewed forth week after week, year after year. Considering the vast readership these fortune columns possess, I must have uncovered a scam of epic proportions that affects the public at large. Tehelka, where art thou?

In this day and age when almost every product or service carries with it a disclaimer statement, why should the newspapers be exempt. From now on they should be required to print a notice in bold typeface below these fortune columns:-

"Warning: To be read only by the naive and gullible folk (Ilicha Vaayans in case it's a tamil daily) and those living in a fantasy land (like CPI) or a warped version of reality (like Murli Manohar Joshi)."

True Lies

Despite the title, this post is not a review or a critique of the popular 90's action film by the same name, in which the present Governor of Kaleefoniah got a chance to display his (non existant) acting skills. But ofcourse nobody goes to an Arnold film expecting tear jearking histrionics. We are more than happy watching him throw people out of windows and mumble incomprehensible one-liners to his enemies. Rumours abound that he's doing the same thing to his political opponents today.

This particular post is about the normal human tendency to lie to extricate oneself from sticky situations. When most of us were kids we resorted to telling little white lies to cover up our escapades and to avoid punishments. Having studied in a boarding school for 10 years I've done my fair share of lying. Ofcourse lying is an art in itself and mastering it requires a little bit of imagination and presence of mind. Some are adept at it whereas some others are pitiful when it comes to lie telling.

Being caught while lying is an absolute nightmare that I've had to face a few times at school. Nailing a lie takes skill which my former biology teacher Mr.Francis had in plenty. He adroitly used his cunning to catch liars offguard when they least expected it. One such incident happened 10 years ago during the study hours in school. Chatting with other students in the study hall was strictly forbidden and to help enforce this rule there was a study master who watched the students like a hawk. During that particular day since the regular study master was absent, Mr.Francis was sent as a replacement. Taking his outwardly calm demeanour at face value, I started yakking to my partner Manoj in muted whispers.

I was ofcourse assuming that Mr.Francis wouldn't be alert enough to take notice since he was standing nearly 100 feet away, looking lost in thought. But he was doing nothing of that kind. He was as alert and keen as ever. All of a sudden, he pointed to me from the distance and beckoned. Oh, no! I realised I had been caught. Ok, the situation can still be redeemed I decided. There was no way he could have heard the contents of my conversation from that distance. I walked up to him with a sense of purpose, confident enough that I could offer a convincing explanation for chatting with Manoj.

Finally when I reached him he still had the calm look on his face, but I noticed his right hand was brandishing a plastic scale. Ok, I'd better get my explanation spot on or that scale is going to land hard on my palms.

Mr.Francis(still with a calm look): What were you talking to that fellow over there?
Me(having decided to keep it simple): Sir, I was asking him for his notebook.

While I was hoping this simple explanation would suffice he beckoned Manoj over. Hmm....what's he calling him for? Didn't my explantion sound convincing enough? As I was mulling over this, Manoj ambled up to us all the way from his desk at the far end.

Manoj(a touch nervous): Sir?
Mr.Francis(to Manoj): Did he ask you for a pencil?
Manoj(vigorously nodding his head in agreement): Yessir, that's right.

Thwack, thwack, thwack.....we ended up getting the scale treatment in front of the entire study hall. Not only did our palms take a beating but our egos too. After we left the study Manoj got a sound tongue lashing from me for his gullibility. He retaliated saying that I was no better as I didn't warn him beforehand about the explanation I was going to give. Nevertheless we realised we were bested at our own game by our shrewd biology teacher. Even after all these years Manoj and me have a good laugh whenever we reminisce this incident.

But I must point out that Manoj had a track record for being one of the poorest liars in class. His lies couldn't even fool a two year old. During the first year in boarding school when he was just 8 years old, he was overcome with a sudden feeling of homesickness. So he along with a few others experiencing the same feeling, decided to sneak out of campus and hitch a ride home. While the group were waiting at the bus stand a good 3 kms away from school, they were spotted by some of the school staff who happened to pass that way. On being questioned as to what they were doing there, Manoj immediately replied that they were looking for their tennis ball which was hit from school.

When the staff tried to point out that even King Kong couldn't have hit the ball that far, he still stuck to the same explanation. Needless to say the group was marched off to school where he was ridiculed by all and sundry. Some people just don't have it in them to lie convincingly (like Bill Clinton).

Though politicians have perfected the art of lying, some of their lies defy all possible logic. There was this incident a couple of years ago where Lalu Prasad Yadav and his wife were accused of remaining seated when the national anthem was being played during the independance day celebrations. Lalu claimed it was not true and that both him and his wife were standing in erect attention during the anthem. When a photograph was produced verifying the allegation, he claimed it was a conspiracy of his rivals working in tandem with the fascist media to besmirch his noble image.

So if you haven't yet mastered the art of lying,what are you waiting for? Go and join a law school right away.

Do you have pet peeves

While sitting up last night contemplating my next blog entry, I finally decided to make a post on pet peeves. Each one of us has a list of things (usually a long one) that never fail to get on our nerves anytime, anywhere. Some of us deal with such things by taking three deep breaths (probably this method was followed only by Lord Buddha), some by using profanities that would make a sailor blush, some by throwing tantrums (like Mayawati) and some by cursing the genius of Murphy (like me). Whatever be the method adopted, the list of pet peeves for any individual only gets longer. Here's my list:-

1. Cars which play an annoying tune while backing up.

The guy who lives next door has a Maruti Alto that breaks into a ridiculous rendition of an old song everytime he engages the reverse gear. Many a time I've been sorely tempted to indulge in vandalising his car. Why can't people just use a simple beeping sound.

2. Cellphones which shatter the ambience with their jarring ringtones.

Why people don't bother using a simple ringtone is beyond me. What is the need to publicise one's hideous taste in music to others. The other day while dining in a quiet restaurant, one patron's mobile came alive with a really loud ringtone that sounded like a hyena's mating call.

3. Boarding a non-stop, point to point, long distance bus and feeling the urge to pee after the first 5 minutes of the journey.

I once requested the driver of one such bus to stop for a moment so that I could answer the call of nature. He bluntly refused saying he would halt only at the scheduled stop which was 3 hours away. He finally relented after I threatened to make the driver's cabin look like a communal toilet.

4. Sitting next to sleeping beauties in the bus.

I've lost count of the number of times I've had the misfortune of sitting next to guys who feel the overwhelming need to rest their oily craniums on my shoulders. Everytime I am seated next to one such guy, I wish I could put his head into an industrial vice and crush it to pulp.

5. Persistant Salespersons.

I realise these salespeople too have to earn their livelihood, but they choose to disturb you at the most inconvenient times. There was one guy who rung my doorbell when I was taking a wonderful nap on a weekend afternoon. Turned out he wanted to sell me a special kind of conditioner that would apparently make my hair as soft as rabbit fur (yeah, right). Having been cheated by enough shampoo commercials on tv, I'm not falling for another one.

6. Commercials in the midst of an interesting programme on tv.

Every Indian knows what it is like to be forcefed annoying commercials while watching cricket, especially. And some of those ads look like they've been made by a bunch of people under the influence of TASMAC liquor.

7. Navjot Sidhu on tv.

This guy was amusing at first but now he is as stale as the chappathi they serve on trains. Listening to him is right up there with a visit to the dentist on the list of most painful things to do. Now that he's become an MP, God help those parliamentarians.

8. Power failure in the midst of a favourite tv programme.

This is one of the major irritants to be put up with in Chennai. The other day while watching my favourite programme on Fashion TV (actually all programmes on Fashion TV are my favourites), a voluptious model with a curvaceous figure was sashaying down the ramp when the EB guys decided to get into the act. Result, a power failure that lasted 4 hours. Damn! What an amazing sense of timing these guys have got.

9. Trying to reach unreachable customer service personnel.

Nothing can be more frustrating than spending one nerve-racking moment after another trying to achieve this near impossible task. And indeed by a miracle if you manage to reach them, getting them to deal with your predicament is like trying to get George Bush to write a treatise on Particle Physics. By the time they attend to your problem, even T.Rajendar might produce a hit.

10. Dealing with callers who have the wrong number.

I've had my fair share of wrong numbers while attending calls. I understand it is human to err, but some of these callers remain as stubborn as the cows that roam around in the midst of Chennai traffic.
Me: Hello
Caller: Hello. Saar, I am Sathyan speaking. The 2 love birds that you asked for have arrived. Where do you want me to send them?
Me (confused for a moment): Uh...what?
Caller: Sathyan saar......the lovebirds.....where do you want me to send them?
Me: Sorry , wrong number.
Caller: Enna saar. I know this is the correct number. Please tell me where to send the birds?
Me (deciding to play along): Ok Sathyan. You do one thing. Go to Koyambedu junction, first.
Caller: Ok saar
Me: Take a right onto the market complex road
Caller: Sari saar
Me: Walk for about half a kilometre and take the 3rd left
Caller: Right..then what saar?
Me: You'll see a Madurai Muniyandi Vilas hotel there. Give the birds to them. They'll know what to do. (click)

Ever wonder why the majority of our daily annoyances result from our usage of modern gadgetry. Do these marvels of modern technology which are intended to make lives easier end up creating more headaches? While you chew on that for a while, the above is my list of pet peeves (which is by no means comprehensive). What is yours?

Monkey Trouble

It was Thomas Huxley who said that six monkeys, strumming on six typewiters for an infinite amount of time would eventually be bound to type out the works of Shakespeare. If indeed a monkey was blessed with the ability to put down its thoughts on paper, the very first thing it would compose would be a letter to Charles Darwin,

"Dear Mr. Darwin, I am writing in regards to the slur on my family name, by your suggestion that we are in some way related....."

I must say Darwin, by compiling the "Origin of Species", incurred the wrath of not only the church establishment but also the the entire primate family. But honestly, there's hardly any difference between the two groups.

I come into contact with monkeys almost everyday (no, I've not just escaped from the planet of the apes or anything). It's just that my old school was one of the very few ones which maintained a mini-zoo on campus. And undoubtedly the prime attraction in the zoo was a pair of monkeys, Assissi and Monnasi. Everyday on my way to class Assissi and Monnasi would greet me in the manner of all monkeys worldwide, with a cacophony of shrieks, screeches and a variety of facial countenances that reminded me of Venkaiah Naidu. I guess it was their way of wishing me a good day. After all my day would just not be the same, without beginning with a warm greeting from the dynamic duo.

After moving to college I had assumed my encounters with primates would cease, but it was not to be. If anything my college has far more monkeys than professors. (I'd love to say again there's hardly any difference between the two, but I'll desist). In fact if a census is conducted in my college, after the students the next most populous entity on campus would be the primates closely followed by the profs and then stray dogs. Maybe it's appropriate the profs should be sandwiched between these two groups (I really need to stop lampooning my profs, but then again I can't help it).

Everyday in front of my department all the primates would congregate for their general body meeting which was also attended by the canine community. In fact the department itself looked like a scene straight out of George Orwell's 'Animal Farm'. Any munchies the participants needed for the meeting, they usually scrounged around for it. But every now and then one of them would resort to direct methods like snatching an icecream cone from a careless student or scaring a female student into dropping her bar of chocolate.

After concluding the meeting the primates usually leave for the fertile grounds of the hostel complex whereupon they descend like Ghengis Khan's rampaging armies. Any hostel room that is not as secure as Fort Knox is fair game for these simians. If a student has unwittingly left his room in a vulnerable state, these monkeys would put a CBI search party to shame. By the time they are through, the room would look like ground zero after a nuclear explosion.

One of my juniors had one such experience that he's unlikely to ever forget. He was fast asleep in his room on a sunday afternoon, with his door and window securely fastened. Completely buried under his bedsheet and pillows, even an earthquake wouldn't have stirred him awake. While he was slowly coming out of his sleep in the late evening, he realised that the pillow he was hugging was a bit rough and did not have the usual soft texture. On opening his eyes to investigate he found to his horror that the pillow was indeed a full grown monkey fast asleep in the same cot.

The tranquility of the hostel was shattered by two blood-curdling screams, one of a man's and the other of a primate's. Both screams which were interwoven reached a crescendo that was heard for quite a distance. Apparently, the poor fellow had forgotten to secure the ventilator above the window which the monkey had used as an ingress. Since the guy was completely engulfed by the pillows and bedsheets, the monkey did not spot him amongst the haphazard mess on the cot. After all it's not everyday that a monkey chances upon an empty bed and who can blame it for trying to grab a nap on a day which the Lord himself declared should be a day of rest.

Be as it may, whenever primates decide to have a convention you can be sure that the hot topic of discussion would be Charles Darwin's Theory of Evolution!

Brides and Grooms wanted

When you're saddled with a lot of spare time on your hands, the best way to keep yourself occupied and entertained is to spend it perusing the matrimonial columns in the newspapers. These columns apart from serving their purpose of matchmaking offer deep insight into the preferances and prejudices of the human mindset. Though we call ourselves tolerant and accepting towards people of all creed, one look at these columns is enough to convince you otherwise.

For my part I'm not going to place myself on a moral high ground and indulge in self righteous sanctimony, but rather am in the mood for a light hearted look at these matchmaking columns. If indeed one were to conduct a beauty contest among those who submit to these columns merely by looking at their ads, then I'm sure every entrant would claim the top prize.

Here are some samples that I came across in the brides wanted section recently:-

"Must be able to cook, sing, dance and paint." (though not necessarily in that order)

Well, well. Now, I can accept the 'cooking' part. After all which human being doesn't like to eat wholesome home cooked food everyday. It's what some of us live for. But why the 'sing, dance and paint' part? Does the groom think he is some Maharaja from the 17th century looking for a concubine to augment his harem?

"Doctor seeks doctor"

What is it with people wanting to marry someone in the same profession. Makes you wonder if the person in question here is looking to get married or looking to open a clinic. (hmm.......... maybe he's looking to kill 2 birds with one stone)

"Interested parties should send 4 photographs of the girl - one in sari, one in salwar, one in jeans and one in shorts"

Yeah, right. This must be the NRI groom, who is convinced that his bride must be fit to adorn the cover of 'Vogue'. Such guys must be shackled to a chair and made to watch a marathon session of T.Rajendar movies back to back.

"Must be traditional"

Translation:- The groom can be a lecherous, beer swilling, womanising lowlife. But when he comes home after his romps the bride should be there to receive him on the doorstep with a smile, make him feel comfortable, serve him faithfully and be eternally grateful for doing so.

If you thought these columns were heavily loaded against brides, then you thought wrong.The grooms wanted section has quite a few gems too:-

"Must be handsome, athletic, slim, tall and fair"

When will girls realise that not all guys can be like Milind Soman, despite the fact that the guys themselves remain convinced they are Adonis reincarnated.

"Must possess green card"

This is the category of girls whose eyes see nothing but dollar signs. They should be taken to Punjab where numerous girls who fell for the green card bearing grooms will recount their horror tales.

"51 year old female is seeking............"

We've heard of late bloomers, but honestly this takes the cake. The only reply this individual can expect is from Dr.Kevorkian himself.

"Wheatish complexioned, non-vegetarian, diploma in catering, seeks......"

Sounds suspiciously like an item from a restaurant menu.

"Born again christian hindu convert seeks, born again christian hindu convert."

Maybe they are aiming to join a religious convention.

"28 year old female, good education, majored in Chemistry, top of the class in Bed"

See what a simple typo can accomplish. B.Ed became Bed in this instance. Now the only person who's likely to respond to this ad is Dr.Prakash (if he is reading this in jail).

"Wanted good charactered groom with broad outlook for innocent, unconsummated
divorcee aged 28 years"

What is it with this "innocent divorcee" business. Does it mean that the ex-spouse of this person will advertise himself as "guilty divorcee". After all if both were innocent then why would a divorce result. And as for the consummation part of it, hmmm.....I really wonder. Maybe the above individual was too innocent, thus resulting in unconsummation and finally a divorce?

"Wanted well educated groom with good family background and clean habits"

Now, do we ever come across advertisements seeking people from shady family backgrounds and rowdy habits (except perhaps when Al Capone placed an ad). Why do people feel the need to state the bleeding obvious!

To be fair though, these columns have done a wonderful job in bringing potential mates together and they have been doing it for ages. But nevertheless they will always serve as a constant source of amusement!

MTC Adventures

As I had mentioned in an earlier post, travelling in an MTC city bus is a constant source of entertainment and amusement. And the clincher is, you never know when you'll be the one providing it. I've been at the forefront of so many such amusing incidents that if I were to compile a book, it would rival the size of the Engineering Physics textbook (by M. Arumugam). One such incident never fails to elicit a chuckle even after 7 long years.

It was during my first year in college. I was travelling in a city bus with Pradeep while going to 'Odyssey' at Adyar. After boarding the bus at Anna university we were told by the conductor that since the bus was an 'express service' (trust me, the name 'express service' is really a misnomer) it did not have a scheduled stop at the place we wanted to get down. We really had no choice but to purchase tickets for the next stop after Odyssey.

As it happened, due to the heavy traffic the bus started to slow down while it was approaching Odyssey, enabling Pradeep to get down nimbly from the moving bus. Now I was stuck in a quandry. Not having travelled much in city buses before, I wasn't exactly schooled in the art of getting down from a moving bus. I was apprehensive at first but then I decided there's always a first time. Also, not wanting to look like a novice in front of Pradeep, I decided to bite the bullet and take the plunge.

Since I had seen others getting down from a moving bus with inexplicable ease, I was aware of the cardinal rule while disembarking from a moving vehicle: Always get down facing the direction of the vehicle's movement and don't try to arrest your movement as soon as you hit the road. Rather, you should jog for a short while and gradually slow down after hitting the road to allow the momentum to fizzle out. So there it was, all simple and easily worked out. It was just a matter of putting theory to practice.

Getting down to the lowermost rung in the footboard and taking care to face the direction of travel I tensed myself to hit the road. At this moment I was reminded of a hilarious incident. My dear friend Laks was in a similar situation a year back while trying to get down from a moving city bus in Madurai. Unfortunately he was not aware of the cardinal rule then. He tried to get down while facing exactly the opposite direction of motion. And needless to say the result was unfortunate. He fell flat on his butt, right in the middle of a busy thoroughfare (har har). But he's alright now. Except for a dented ego when reminded of the incident.

Laughing to myself while thinking about Laks' bumbling capers, I finally hit the road. And almost immediately I started to jog forward. Then I realised something was wrong. I was jogging far too quickly. And I couldn't slow down. I realised I had misjudged the inertia that was carrying me forward. And it looked like I was headed straight for the bus stop where a handful of passengers were waiting. Oh Oh! watch out everybody, wild bull on the rampage. When I looked towards my right I found to my horror that I had overtaken the very bus from which I had disembarked. And all the passengers on the bus were watching the disaster unfold in front of their eyes with some kind of morbid fascination.

The people at the bus stop on seeing me charge towards them like a mounted knight ready to joust his opponent, began to scatter away in frenzy. But one unlucky soul did not have the time. He was busy fiddling with his chappal which he was holding in his left hand. When I reached him with enough momentum to put a particle accelerator to shame, I was desperately looking to grab hold of something to halt my relentless charge. And the only thing that was in sight was the man's chappal. But alas the chappal and the owner were no match for the unbridled force propelling me forward. My hands just snatched the piece of footwear away from the poor soul and it hardly made a difference to the propellant force. It was like trying to halt a doubledecker bus by putting your foot out.

Finally the inertia began to wear away and I began to slow down. By this time I had run across nearly 5 city blocks. And the comedy came to an end when I fell into some bushes by the roadside (and my luck, they happened to be thorny bushes). I was helped to my feet by Pradeep who couldn't contain his laughter for many days to come. I got up and dusted by bruised body (and ego) and walked away with whatever shred of dignity that remained. But not before returning the snatched chappal to the owner who gave me a not too kind stare. Thank goodness he didn't yell thief and summon the local gendarmes. That would have resulted in total ignominy.

But I must say I had a far better deal when compared to another unfortunate soul who had a similar experience in the railway junction at Madurai. No, it was not Laks who was the individual in question here but somebody else (though I wish it had been Laks). The man had come to see off some relatives who were travelling by the Pandian express. While he was inside the train bidding adieu to them he didnt notice the train was already in motion. Someone from the platform yelled at him to get his ass down as the train was gently picking up speed. Rushing to the door the man tried to make a smooth exit (or what he thought would be one), but again he too underestimated the power of inertia.

When he hit the platform (fortunately he was still on his feet) the momentum propelled him along the major part of the platform's length and kept propelling him even further. Finally, he ran straight into the railway police station at the far end of the platform and fell onto a constable standing inside. He must have had some explaining to do to the cops. I was atleast spared that thankless task.

Have you tried "Nila Choru"

One of the things I love to do is to keep gazing at the sight of a full moon, shining with resplendence against the background of a night sky. It's not with the intention of morphing into a werewolf or anything, but somehow this breathtaking sight invokes an image of a giant silver medallion suspended from the heavens to rest amongst the stars. Let me assure you that I'm not one of those lunatics who are affected by the lunar cycles (like Bal Thackeray). Rather the sight of a full moon brings back a flood of childhood memories - of happier and innocent times. One such memory takes me back to the time I was a kid vacationing at my grandparents' in the small western ghat town of Bodinayyakanur.

During my stay in Bodi, on most nights our dinner usually consisted of "Nila Choru" which literally translated means "Moonlight rice". The meal would be partaken on the terrace, where my brother and myself along with a whole lot of our cousins would be seated in a circle bathed in the warm glow of the moonlit night. At the centre my grand-aunt would be seated with a mud pot which held the entire contents of the dinner. The fare was simple, usually a mixture of rice and daal.

My grand-aunt would dip her hand into the pot, take out a handful of the mixture and roll it into balls which she would pass to each one of us in turn. All this while she would keep us entertained with a constant stream of stories and jokes. Gorging into that ball of rice was sheer unmatched bliss.

Reminiscing those times, I am convinced that the "Nila Choru" cannot be matched by any gourmet cuisine served in any of the posh upscale restaurants. So if any of you want to experience true culinary utopia I suggest you have the "Nila Choru" with your family and friends. I can assure you that this meal will not only fill your stomach but also your heart.

Give way! Here comes the city bus

Anyone who visits Chennai cannot miss the sight of the ubiquitous MTC city bus. This public transport vehicle which is decked in dull green livery is hailed as the lifeline of the metropolis. But this does not excuse the fact that the MTC employs drivers who ought to be participating in the monster truck driving competition which is sometimes shown on ESPN. Statistics actually suggest that this peculiar sport has a spectator value equalling that of beach volleyball! People do have strange tastes.

Coming back to the topic, the MTC drivers give the impression that they have come straight from the highways of hell. And this affliction seems to be present in almost every single one of their species. The mystery was solved when one payed a visit to one of the numerous MTC depots and managed to secure a copy of "Guidelines to driving an MTC bus" given to drivers. Here's one such copy:-

Congratulations! You are now a proud member of the MTC family. We at MTC constantly strive to provide infrequent, uncomfortable and nerve-racking bus services to the gullible population of Chennai. From now on you are part of an elite clan, the creme de la creme among Chennai drivers.

Guidelines:

1. The road is your domain. If anyone, particularly a two-wheeler, happens to intrude into your domain, you are given carte blanche to adopt any means to scare him away.

2. Feel free to skip as many stops as you like. If a passenger waiting at the stop makes a rude gesture in response, adopt the same measures as in (1)

3. If a passenger in the bus claims it was his stop that you skipped adopt the same measures as in (1) and (2) to shut him up.

4. If the above mentioned passengers happen to be young females, ignore (2) and (3) and bring the bus to a halt immediately at the appropriate stop.

5. Avoid using the clutch while changing gears (except while changing from neutral to first). Don't worry, the bus won't complain.

6. Since our emissions are deemed to be the worst polluters in the city, we decided to mollify the Pollution control board by reducing our levels of noise pollution. Henceforth you will not be provided with a horn.

7. If you feel the urgent need to use a horn you can adopt any of the following 3 measures:
a. Keep raising the accelerator with engine idling. The resulting cacophony which rivals that of a rice mill is guaranteed to scare anyone.
b. Keep hammering the outside of your door with your open palm. A very effective method.
c. If (a) and (b) fail, you can always lean out your window and hurl the choicest of epithets in the local lingo.

8. Drive like a man possessed even if the traffic is overwhelming. The sole purpose of this exercise is to inject a spirit of adventure into the mundane lives of the city populace.

9. Feel free to ignore traffic signals as they are not for privileged souls like you. Don't worry about the traffic constables, though. They are indebted to us, since we give them free rides in our buses everyday.

10. If a smaller vehicle attempts to overtake you, weave constantly from one lane to another to prevent him from doing so.

11. While approaching a stop, do not bring the bus to a halt exactly in front of the waiting passengers. Instead, conduct a running race for them by taking the bus far beyond the stop.

12. In case you are involved in an accident, better ditch and run like crazy.

Hoping you will have a long association with us, we wish you lots of luck (you'll need it).

Yours sincerely,
The management

What a day!

A devastating piece of news (well, atleast for me!). My dearly beloved PC has become my dearly departed PC. A battery of tests were conducted, the symptoms were analysed, the diagnosis was done and the results have arrived. It doesn't look good. Who am I kidding! The results look horrendous. The SMPS has been tested and found to be in good health. Also the processor and HDD have passed muster (Thank God for small favours). So by the process of elimination the culprit looks to be a faulty motherboard (I hate those Intel guys).

If I had my warranty card I might be able to alleviate the throbbing pain I feel in my heart(aaargh!). But God knows where that piece of paper is right now. When I had my PC assembled about 2 years back I didn't bother to stash the warranty card in a safe place. When someone buys you a gadget you've been wanting real bad, the last thing on your mind is the safekeeping of the warranty card. I mean, who cares about that measly piece of paper at a time when your eyes are lit up like stars and your heart is singing happy tunes.

But then fate decides to play cruel jokes which you don't find the least bit funny. Like yesterday; Whenever I go out I always take my umbrella with me, a habit that has been drilled into me by my mum. Now despite having a common first 3 letters Chennai is not Cherrapunji, but nevertheless the umbrella always accompanied me every single day I went out. The only thing I have to show for this habit is a sore right shoulder that had to carry the extra weight of the umbrella in my bag. So deciding to give my poor old shoulder a rest for one day, I went to college, minus the umbrella.

And what do you know! The skies open up catching me in a sordid downpour which the met department claims is the heaviest spell of rain in a single day for over a year! Murphy's law they call it(another guy I hate). Ofcourse the met department is very good at dealing with rainfall after it has occurred. Their predictions on rainfall are worse than Mandira Bedi's predictions on the Indian team's fortunes. Speaking of the met department I am reminded of a joke:-

It was autumn, and the Red Indians on the remote reservation asked their new Chief if the winter was going to be cold or mild. Since he was a Red Indian Chief in a modern society, he had never been taught the old secrets, and when he looked at the sky, he couldn't tell what the weather was going to be. Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, he replied to his tribe that the winter was indeed going to be cold and that the members of the village should collect wood to be prepared.

But also being a practical leader, after several days he got an idea. He went to the phone booth, called the Met Department and asked "Is the coming winter going to be cold?" "It looks like this winter is going tobe quite cold indeed," the meteorologist responded.

So the Chief went back to his people and told them to collect even more wood in order to be prepared. A week later, he called the Met office again. "Is it going to be a very cold winter?" "Yes," the meteorologist again replied, "It's definitely going to be a very cold winter." The Chief again went back to his people and ordered them to collect every scrap of wood they could find.

Two weeks later, he called the Met department again. "Are you absolutely sure that the winter is going to be very cold?" "Absolutely," the man replied. "It's going to be one of the coldest winters ever."

“How can you be so sure?" the Chief asked.

The weatherman replied, "The Red Indians are collecting wood like crazy."

So to sum it up, yesterday was one of those days where it seemed that everyone and everything was out to get me. If I was the least bit paranoid I'd say that it was a screwy conspiracy by foreign elements to rob my peace. But then I am not CPI(M). So I have to deal with the situation without losing my sanity. This again reminds me of a piece of dialogue between Martin Crane and his son Frasier Crane in my favourite teleseries 'Frasier':

Martin Crane: "The system ain't perfect. So you can either let it eat a hole in your stomach, or you can just file it away under the heading, 'Sometimes Life Sucks.'"

Frasier Crane: "Yeah well, Dad, that file's getting pretty thick!"

So here's to hoping that the next dawn hails a brighter day!

'Da Vinci Code' too easy to crack

Strange indeed are the ways of destiny. Despite having consigned Dan Brown's "Da Vinci Code" to my ignore list I came into possession of the very same book last week, courtesy of a neighbour. The currently raging bestseller, despite being a decent read compared to the run of the mill works, only ended up vindicating amazon.com's majority opinion. The book had a highly intriguing plot and the author employed a judicious mix of fact and fiction which would have made Frederick Forsyth proud. But alas the similarities with Forsyth ended right there!

Despite having a very interesting premise to work with, the author botched up the execution. Characterisation was indeed non-existant and the author had the annoying habit of lapsing into needless little flashbacks every now and then disrupting the narrative. The pacing was not at all smooth and the author's big suspense at the end turned out to be a damp squib. The predictable twists and the anti-climactical ending only served to leave a lingering sour taste.

I just can't help but think that such an exciting premise in the hands of a master storyteller like Forsyth would have resulted in a truly memorable read!