Indian Railways takes a cue from NASA and Bill Gates, Promises to make future Rail Neer from human poop

Under the aegis of Swachh Bharat Abhiyan, the national transporter is apparently slaying two demons with one spear… err one dump at a time.

The Indian Railways is struggling with Rail Neer, its packaged drinking water brand. A product by the Indian Railway Catering and Tourism Corporation (IRCTC) under the Ministry of Railways, Rail Neer is a key revenue generator for IRCTC, but despite continued efforts, the bottled mineral water is failing to meet the demand. Last year, it could quench the thirst of only 20% Indians who were thirsty inside railway stations, and clocking sales of only Rs 150 crore.

The brand is now looking for growth. India has over 7000 railway stations and over 1000 passenger trains, but not many bottles of Rail Neer. This gives other brands a free pass to fill the void, and the Indian Railways a wasted opportunity. Rail Neer, a brand that reportedly contributes 10% to IRCTC’s annual revenue, could easily be doubled in a tropical country like India.

The problem statement and the identified objectives were both very clear. This set thoughts in motion for the Chief Innovation Officer of the Indian Railways, Mr. P K Shitamurthy. Inspired by Aajit Kumar’s bestseller, ‘Think Beyond’, Shitamurthy found his ‘Eureka!’ moment one fine morning as he sat on his pot.

So many travellers on a train and so many more at the stations. Imagine the amount of crap being generated at every railway station, and on every train. What if we could gather all that crap and put it inside ‘that’ machine that produces pure, drinking water out of it. NASA does that to quench its 19 or so astronauts in the International Space Station. Bill Gates took a sip of it years ago, and had said, “It was delicious.”

Surely, this would be a win-win for Rail Neer, the different punchlines could go something like – ‘Swachh Bharatiya desi pani’, ‘Boond boond – ek ehsaas’, ‘Keval pani aur kuch nahi’ or the direct ‘Hamara potty, hamara pyaas.’

Designed for areas with no access to clean, drinking water, this water-faeces machine could be implemented as a way to ‘think beyond.’ More like a ‘two birds with one stone’ solution for the problem at hand. The now even-more-famous Shitamurthy recalled at a press conference later, how his chest had puffed to a 56 inch one after having shared the innovative solution with topmost boss of the country, our PM.

Apparently, our PM immediately jumped up to the idea of fulfilling Rail Neer’s raw material needs as well as the addition of another shiny, clean feather on his Swachh Bharat Abhiyan. But, he also doubles up as the country’s ‘Make in India’ salesman, so he proposed to Shitamurthy to invite as many foreign companies as he can, to convert our poop into drinking water.

The Minister of Railways is reported to be very pleased with this innovative idea; he was fed up with being mollycoddled his way every year in presenting (somebody else’s) rail budget in parliament. When he was sworn in, little did he know that this was his only role.

“Let’s do this shit!” he exclaimed in an animated gesture, not knowing that he was to take the first sip of that water at a public demonstration of the wonder machine, amidst journalists from national and international publications.

Parallelly, Rail Neer is taking a deep look at cost-cutting measures. It has begun the process with its own. The Rail Bhavan in New Delhi has reportedly refused to provide Rail Neer to its officials. “Bring your own water else drink from the installed RO plants in the premises,” a circular stated.

Meanwhile, Shitamurthy and our PM are basking in glory, as reports have come in. ‘Crap in India,’ was an inside joke, taken literally!

Waiting for your favourable reply…

[Warning: Read at your own risk]

Hi dear, good morning,  go through my profile once again & decide or pass this message to those who really need my help. i have just started my journey in the titanic ship as dassan and looking eagerly for rose to share everything whatever i have with me till reach my destination. In the ship i like to do romance, like to help her and support her fully. waiting for a chance, whoever she may be, i  dont know, expecting the luck of getting good and nice girl or women as a normal human being. it is not a friendship in the ship and also not necessary to make friendship but it is beyond the friendship level because sharing love and affection with a girl has totally different meaning, it has more value forever. it is not neccessary to get marriage. Marriage is just a approval ceremony to link male and female only. friendship is different, making love & affection is different, marriage is different. i am in second catagory. come, we will enjoy. see my face and talk, leave me if u dont like. give me a chance to go with you.reply me. dont be silent, be frank, nothing to fear,it is not a very un-usual thing, the way just to be happy in safe manner, waiting for your favorable reply, thanks. no compulsion, it is upto your own wish and decision”.

The above letter is unedited, unadulterated  version from a certain ‘Mister Peri Vendhan’. Just copy-pasted here as is, else it would lose its very essence of existence; its very reason to be. And hell no, I haven’t made it up. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. This one is a gem of a proposal.

A while back, I had received this email proposal; I would have given it a pass had it not been bombarding my inbox every two days, like an incessant banging on my door. When I couldn’t take the banging [pun intended], I risked a read and am still recuperating. The after-effects of a catastrophe may take time to fade off, but not considering Mr. Vendhan‘s kind offer of help will leave one immortally wounded in the heart.

I have considered His Highness’s kind offer of help and am carefully evaluating his way ‘just to be happy in safe manner.’ Here is my reply to you, kind Sir, hope you do not mind the open letter format I’ve chosen to respond to your offer, I gathered there are other nice girls or women who could do with your generous offer of help and support.

Dear Mister Vendhan,

Kind Sir, May I please have the honour and privilege of addressing your Highness as Dassan of my Titanic, only for the purpose of this open letter? Dearest Dassan of my Titanic, I am deeply touched by your deep efforts to search for your Rose, with whom you wish to ‘share everything whatever you have with you till you reach your destination’. You know, the Titanic was doomed – it never reached its destination.

But, I understand your idea of destination is more inclined towards a romantic kind, you certainly do not plan to travel any place with your Rose.

You mentioned about what you intend to do in the ship: your idea of romance, help and full support for Rose is an exhilarating one. Any nice girl or woman would jump to that, but I sank, I’m unable to fathom the depths of your love for Rose. You say that ‘it is not a friendship in the ship, it is beyond’. You say that ‘sharing love and affection with a girl has totally different meaning.’ I think that was deep. And the Titanic sank real deep… oops!

I am a lowly nincompoop, what to do! I fail to comprehend the meaning of ‘totally different meaning.‘ All I know is that boy meets girl, falls in love, they get married and live happily ever after. But, in your story, I fail to see a ‘happily ever after.’ Will Dassan fall off the raft so his Rose could live? You know you seriously need to watch that movie.

So Dearest Dassan of my Titanic, I went through your profile a thousand times over, and like you so desired, I decided to pass this message to those who really need your help. I sincerely apologize from the depths of my heart for rejecting your kind proposal. Although there is no compulsion as you state, it is upto my own wish and decision ‘to see your face and talk, leave you if I don’t like’, I am deeply sorry for not giving you a chance. Believe me, I too wish ‘to be happy in safe manner.’

And, I do understand your point about there being ‘nothing to fear,it is not a very un-usual thing, the way just to be happy in safe manner’. Trust me, I am not scared at all to sail this ship with you, dearest Dassan of my Titanic. The issue is me: I just can’t see myself as your Rose. Who am I and what have I ever done to deserve you, your kind heart, your generous love and affection? 

I’m deeply sorry once again for dashing your hopes ‘of getting good and nice girl or women as a normal human being.‘ I am a nice girl. I am normal too but just not privileged enough to set sail with you, dearest Dassan of my Titanic. Perhaps your Rose is blooming somewhere, some place as she reads this offer coming from the depths of your heart. I wonder how she will express her wish to sail with you.

Anyways, good luck to you Mister Peri Vendhan, I hope and pray that you two are united soon. Hoping this is a favorable reply.

Happy Sailing!

oldfox 004

My maid and her newfound efficiency

indian-maidMy bai has stopped giving me the cold shoulder. Ever since I wrote this post called “Maid in India” describing how we (the Mister & me) are the hostages in this employment contract, she has been acting strangely. The first quarter of this year is round the corner and I still haven’t been able to figure out why.

I am scared, very scared to write this post; I have an uncanny feeling she knows about this blog therapy I follow. Perhaps through some extra sensory perception, she knows what I think about her.

In fact, she demanded a raise right after the post, leaving me feeling quite stupid for having written that. Anyways, we had to concede to her demands if we wanted peace at home and some cleanliness if you may!

But lately I’ve been noticing a peculiar work ethos in my maid. She has transformed into an efficient worker since the two weeks of March. I fear a massive uprising is on the cards soon…but no!

For starters, the utensils are squeaky clean and you can see your face in it. Seen the vessels in the VIM washing bar ad, which the brand new daughter-in-law is brandishing away at her sceptical mother-in-law? My maid is washing the vessels like that, can you beat that?

The deep bottomed kadai might not come out squeaky clean, but there is no trace of any oil on it, not even on the handles, like it used to be before. Spoons, ladles, the butter knife, every little thing is washed both sides. There was a time when the holding side had traces of what I had cooked earlier. Now, I don’t feel like cooking in these vessels anymore, why dirty them again?!

Earlier, there used to be a puddle of water on the platform where she dumped all the vessels. Now it is dry and vessels are placed intelligently so that all sides of the vessel dry up faster. She should be awarded a ‘Kaizen’ for finally bringing up a continuous improvement approach to her work!

She isn’t stopping at that. The kitchen sink is brushed hard at all the edges too. Washing the sink was never in her to-do list. All she did was merely pour tons of water on all sides and let drain it on its own. She even gave me a big surprise two days back. She washed up the cooking range squeaky clean, without me telling her to do it, which is the case usually. As a matter of fact, I remember a time until a month ago where I was begging her to do it.

To add to this, my home is immaculately clean. The floors are swept with a vengeance like never before. She mops away in a beautiful rhythmic pattern; replace the mop and water with a paintbrush and colours, this would create a masterpiece for keeps.

She was a good worker, she came with neighbour recommendation a year ago. That was the time, when a few maids had taken us on a royal ride. My next door neighbour suggested this lady, and added that she works in and around a few homes in the same wing. This lady, however, took too many leaves without informing us. One time her daughter was sick, the other time her brother was on a visit to her place, and at other times she would even get rashes!

Now she hasn’t skipped a single day except for one day, the next day she looked frail but happy to report to work.

Her soaring performance deserves a ‘best performance’ award, her efficiency is a welcome change, her full attendance is inspirational, but I’m breaking my head to know why. A few days ago, I’ve been seeing new maids at the homes she used to work at. Maybe there is a clue there. I would be more than happy to write a new post with all the masala!

Image courtesy: Times Crest

Maid in India

I can’t do without her. Nor can we live in harmony. She knows the place she holds in my life. And she uses it to her benefit. So when this noble lady tells me, “Pocha kal” I obey at once with a respectful nod.

Today she reports nearly three hours later than her scheduled time, but I say nothing because being present on the job is an even bigger quality than punctuality, isn’t it? She is reporting after 50 hours, which is fine because little breaks from work helps keep her mind fresh and active. Besides, it gives me and the mister a chance to do some house chores as a break from our very humdrum life of blogging.

indian-home-maid-servant-naukrani-funny-cartoon

Last December, right after my back injury, I knew I couldn’t avoid this anymore. To give up washing our utensils, to give up on sweeping and mopping our one-bedroom home office, to give up on my freedom to do whatever I want with my home was something very tough for me. We had shifted home just a couple of months back and hired the maid who claimed to be the most ‘in demand’ in our housing society. We had no choice but to believe her and depute her. Soon after the transfer of power, a familiar feeling began to overpower us.

Our endeavour to keep our home clean had failed again. This maid hardly turned up. And God forbid, if she ever did turn up, she also made sure to leave within ten minutes. So quick and efficient was she, that all the utensils self-washed themselves, all the dust vanished from the floors before they got magically moped with glassfuls of Lizol. It took me a week to decode her modus operandi.

She transferred dirt to nooks and crannies that are invisible to the human eye. Though, these were visible to the pests that lived with us and often laughed at our ignorance. How I got rid of the pests is an altogether different story that needs to be told as well. Living in rented homes teaches you a lot about human behaviour, I tell you!

I had questioned this lady holding in my palm a portion of evidence although it was ‘dirty’ – dust, hair, a few pulses, some shedded skin too I guess. She was deeply hurt that someone could question her integrity like this. She left at once and promised to never come again. She came the next day to collect her salary for the days she deceived us though.

So 2013 began with this new maid who came with recommendations from the neighbours. This time I got smarter to not rely on self- proclamations. She takes her time at the kitchen sink. Then she carefully sweeps away dust (hair and all) from all nooks and crannies too. Then she mops the floor with a corkful of Lizol and leaves a fragrant home for the two of us.

But, she hardly reports to work.

Sometimes, her daughter is sick or at times she takes a week-long sojourn to her native land. That way she prefers to keep away from the dim of city life and rejuvenate through all the greenery in the countryside.

She works at nearly seven homes everyday, thus earning our empathy. So when she does report to work, she finds herself with more than a day’s dirt to wash, sweep or mop. She made sure it wasn’t too hard on her. So the invariable response was ‘Pocha kal’ which meant ‘mopping tomorrow as today there is too much work load’. Also, ‘you guys don’t seem to mind not having a squeaky clean floor anyways’!

Every thing including her absenteeism was going fine up until I saw her leaving a neighbour’s home after finishing their chores, and leaving on the sly. And, she has been doing this for the whole of this year, right under our nose!

Out of the 350 days she took salary for, she must have reported for only 280 as every month sees her sickness, her daughter’s sickness, or her wish to take a breath of fresh air from her countryside.

She is a good worker who knows her value and her employers very well. This November, I gifted her a saree along with Diwali bonus, although me and the mister did all the pre-festive deep cleaning. She was apprehensive in taking it then. Unlike other maids who rejoice over getting gifts over Diwali, or blackmail into getting them, she seemed a tad bit guilty. Her uninformed absence for the next 11 days gave me the answer.

Well, this is my maid. My very own ‘Maid in India!’ I am hoping you have your very own maid stories to share too 🙂

Why Besharam should go to the Oscars

Besharam_movie_poster
Image courtesy: wikipedia

You ask me why? I ask you “Why not?!” Without a doubt, Besharam is 2013’s only defining film of Indian cinema. It is crassitude unlimited with a major focus on Ranbir Kapoor’s itching crotch. Why, it even highlights Rishi Kapoor’s toilet antics, complete with the many variations of constipated facial expressions, by the end of which unsuspecting viewers are enlightened about the erstwhile actor’s painful bowel movements.

By virtue of many such deeply philosophical moments that define India, and the country’s fascination with potty humour and itchy crotches, the movie certainly deserves to be India’s nomination to the Oscars. No other film even comes close to calling itself an authentic rendition of the Indian saga. Remember… we prefer mobile phones over toilets, the Chulbul Pandeys over Dabbawalas, the pelvic thrusts over cranium ones and…never mind!

Characters

If you are still not convinced, let us discuss about the key characters that make ‘Besharam’ the iconic movie that it is.

Bablee the car thief – Ranbir plays him to the ‘T’. One is almost tolerant about the poor orphan who steals cars not for a living but to give back to the orphanage so it does not create any more car thieves. What an original Robinhood inspired move by director Abhinav Singh Kashyap, one that does not make you lift an eyebrow after reading ‘original’ and ‘inspired’ in the same line.

Titu – Bablee’s friend and partner in crime, who along with Bablee has been far removed from any kind of logical reasoning.

Tara Sharma – Bablee’s love interest played by Pallavi Sharda. We last saw her in the psychological thriller ‘Table 21’ opposite Rajeev Khandelwal. They had to bring the ‘rich girl-poor boy’ angle now, didn’t they? Except that she is the daughter of a middle class widow and is striving hard to climb the Delhi wall of status. (read ‘own a fleet of the most expensive cars!’)

Chulbul & Bulbul Chautala – They could have very well been surnamed the ‘Pandeys’, for if I were the director, I too would have stolen popular names from my debut blockbuster film. The relief is that they are being played by Rishi and Neetu Kapoor, a childless cop couple who are in the trace of Bablee, Delhi’s most wanted car thief, who steals with love. They had to bring the ‘orphan boy-childless couple’ angle now, didn’t they?

Bhim Singh Chandel – The lean-mean-shooting machine with a small army who is sometimes seen using a bazooka like missile anywhere and everywhere in the city. The hawala operator played by Jaaved Jaffery gets Bablee to work for him for big money, because Bablee isn’t afraid of his bazookas.

Story

The story is an inspirational take on Paulo Coelho’s ‘The Alchemist’ – If you wish for something very badly, the entire universe conspires to get you that’. Logic can take a beating.

Bablee steals Tara’s new car unknowingly, right after she rejects his love proposal as he is an orphan-thief. To win her love, he steals it right back putting his life on the line. Her heart softens on the way.

Meanwhile, Bhim Singh, The Chautalas and logic are all in hot pursuit of the newly-fallen-in-love couple, each for their own reasons. It has to end in a climax at a warehouse, doesn’t it? The orphanage kids are kidnapped, a huge police force is waiting outside, Bulbul Chautala is shot, Bablee’s intentions are misconstrued, etc. etc. etc.

Everything is sorted out as the bad guy is caught. Bablee is adopted by the Chautalas in case you didn’t know that one was coming! Bablee, no more an orphan now, need not steal cars anymore, so his lady love is delighted too!

Lessons

Believe in your dreams; you can change your destiny. An orphan car thief can also find a pair of cop parents and a sophisticated girl, despite his itchy crotch. The film was declared a flop in the first week itself, but these are the movies that go on to make everlasting history at a later time. Sholay was a flop too, in its time.

Character assassination is insignificant when weighed against what the film teaches you – that a badly behaved girl who does not give a damn about insulting people lower than her in status, can actually transform into an angel with the touch of love. Love brings miracles, love one and all folks! What a message to take to the Oscars and share the love!

Now that you are convinced, dear reader, please help me decide what genre can we put this movie into – romance, comedy, action, thriller or something hitherto unknown?!

Warning: Do not watch this movie while having a meal, unless you do not mind losing your appetite over loo jokes with background sounds and thankfully no smells as movie technology is yet to master the art of bringing in olfactory senses on celluloid.

The Avian Invasion of 2013!

The Mayans were wrong. The world had not ended after all and the happy new year was peeping in all its false glory. But, my world had certainly reached a dead end and good thing was I didn’t know it then. Struck by a back injury, I could barely sit or stand, let alone shoo away that pair of pigeons whose 2013 resolution was to spend some ‘cozy’ time in our kitchen attic.

If any of you ever happen to be in my city and walk past a bus depot near Kothrud, don’t forget to ask for the smelly house. You will be led to our apartment unfailingly. That’s how bad the scene was back then.

The mister was already juggling with cleaning, cooking, laundry, and keeping a check on me all round the clock, lest I make superheroic stunts like jump on a trampoline or something. The doctor had advised for a complete bed rest, but I managed to keep my ears open. My hunch was right – we were going to be invaded soon and how!

cozy pigeonsOne day sometime on a cold February afternoon, we heard the flapping of many wings and were quite taken aback to find two dusky grey pigeons making themselves at home, in our kitchen attic. The mister tried shooing them away but his pleas fell on deaf ears. These two smart fellows had also built a nice little nest complete with dried twigs and a chocolate brown rope. At once I realised the handles of my designer paper bag were not really stolen after all. What a relief!

These guys had long been following a modus operandi of sorts. They had been sneaking in twigs one at a time, when it was ‘all-clear’ in our kitchen – the long interval between breakfast and lunch and the few hours before tea time. The braver of the two made his/her way in through the window and stayed vigilant for some time. With a bunch of little twigs in his/her beak, he/she ensured we were where they wanted us to be, and nodded to the other one waiting at the window sill.

This guy would set the twig and fly out while the other got in and set his/her twig. The twigs that fell off their beaks and onto our floor was promptly picked up and set in place. Their operations were so smooth, little did we get an inkling of what’s happening in our kitchen. In this way, perhaps a thousand tos and fros later, their nest had been built on the sly, while I was sleeping…quite literally!

But, I swear I did hear some sounds, some very low frequency squeaks like pigeon whispers or something. But then I imagined these sounds as part of my wild imagination and let it go. However, I also did smell a faint poultry-like odour in the house, and blamed it on my strong sense of imagination.

By mid-March, I was able to walk around. Despite our pleading and shooing and then pleading again, this duo did not bother to move an inch, giving rise to our deepest fears – what if they have laid eggs? How long will the eggs take to hatch? What if the eggs fall down before hatching? In case, the baby pigeons do hatch, what if they fall down and we are held responsible. And worse, the place will get even more smelly. These stupid stupid pigeons!

Then came a day when they were gone. Yes, vanished before one could say ‘Shoo!’ after having a good time in our home for nearly two months. I managed to climb on top of the kitchen platform and investigate upon the smelly mess they had left behind.

But, what I saw was a couple of tiny little pale white eggs lying cuddled beside each other. “These two would surely hatch a very close-knit sibling love,” I thought to myself with a melting heart. All disgust vanished; I named them changu-mangu and immediately called out to the mister to supply me with some maize for the new parents.

pigeon eggs

Ever since then, our home was full of smiles and happiness, all four of us waited anxiously for the new members. The eggs hatched and what came out of them was ‘not so cute’ to look at, but an amazing act of nature, nevertheless. Never before had we been so happy with an invasion on our territory.

These dark ash balls covered with pale yellow hair and really long beaks were breathing away quite rapidly, while sleeping most of the time. It was a fascinating sight; one that deserved to be captured forever. Here is a video I managed to shoot of changu-mangu, balancing myself atop the kitchen platform, with one hand holding the attic base and the other holding a nearly-SLR Olympus camera recording from a safe distance.

The babies grew up so fast and flew away, leaving us with smelly memories and this smiley video.

P.S: This is my entry for Ambipur’s ‘From smelly to smiley“. When I took these pictures and the video, little did I know they would play a vital role one day.

My chicken pox woes and related stories

Courtesy: kidzworld.com

It was an innocent looking Sunday. What started off as a little red bump on my forehead and glanced at me like a regular heat boil would, turned out to be much more surreptitious than that.

I actually saw it wink at me or maybe I was hallucinating with the fever. Yeah, I woke up with a slight fever and joint pain, both of whom are cousins who come visiting me together ever so often. I planned to have something to chill my system like maybe some coconut water or a glass of lassi and perhaps a paracetamol for the fever germs.  But the divine providence had a lot in store for me.

It must have been sevenish when I saw the clock and little did I know what the number signified then. Not talking about numerology here but just the magnitude of its impact to be seen later. My hunch was that something was devastatingly wrong with me but none of my eyes were twitching. You see my eyes are hard coded to twitch whenever something weird is on the cards.

But this time they deceived me. A Hindu proverb translated as ‘In bad times, even the best of minds falter’ can be described for my eyes that kept mum that day.

I decided to skip my morning exercise or rather skip my daily excuse to avoid it – I was sick. Period.  After a little nap, I woke up to see if I had rejuvenated. But hell no! The bump winked back, now even bigger in size. Remember someone wise had said that ‘sleep is the best healer after laughter’ but that someone didn’t know that party poopers are stubborn little things. They are wired into your karma.

After a little while, I gave up trying to feel better and resigned much like Gulliver letting himself be tied up by the Lilliputians. Only my Lilliputians were teeny-weeny and invisible. The Mister promptly took me to the doctor, who with just a cursory glance announced the verdict – ‘Its C.h.i.c.k.e.n P.o.x!’

I thought my days were numbered since I hadn’t heard about chicken pox for the longest time now. So I mistook it for H1N1 or maybe some strange rapidly growing contagious things implanted by aliens. Remember I was out the previous day and felt for certain that a UFO was trailing me.

But then I recollected – my mum used to always say that I am the only child who didn’t get chicken pox. Like that was a health introduction to the listener and in some ways a proud moment for my little mind. As I grew up, I had almost forgotten about it until this – the doctor inquired whether I had chicken pox as a kid.

So I proudly said ‘NO!’ And he said ‘So, it’s confirmed!’ and happily prescribed medicines that would last a fortnight and upset my household budget. He said it will take seven days and I remembered my Chinese clock struck at seven. If this was not enough, he also said that the medicines will not heal the chicken pox; they were just meant to be taken to keep away other infections that the pox might cause!

We returned  in pin-drop silence. Then life took up a new routine – pill at 8 – breakfast – pill at 10 – sleep – lunch – pill at 2 – sleep – pill at 8 – dinner – pill at 10 – sleep…  The bumps grew right in front of my eyes; every time I saw the mirror I swear I could see them put on weight joyfully. The Mister obviously couldn’t see what I could so he locked me up in the bedroom with water and a warm cozy blanket, with no mirrors anywhere nearby.

It must have been seven days or so, I can’t really say – the itching and the burning was all I felt. The Mister’s neem sponge bath was a real saviour and I would definitely recommend it to anybody even without the pox. In fact, you should drink a glass of neem juice every time you go for that convenient coconut water or lassi.

Another seven days later, the bumps were off leaving their dirty footprints all over me. And my mum can proudly say that I’m not the odd one out. Chicken pox has been kind enough to visit me too!

The long and the short of it…

Jack and Jill
Image source: The Writing life too

 

It was a quarter past five in the wee hours of morning and the sun had just risen over the Hilimanjharo. Jaikishen was up as usual – she had stolen his sleep. No not Jillian, she was too shy and would rather shrivel up and die in embarrassment than flutter her curly lashes for him.

And this was a time when the world knew no barriers, no borders; only places with beautiful names and enchanting hills.

It was poor little grandma who was down with the flu and only the water from Hilimanjharo could heal her. The water was believed to be an elixir although hundreds had died of the dreaded dengue despite having more Hilimanjharo water than blood in their bloated bodies.  Granny had coughed away the entire night that left the rooster a bit confused. He paced around looking worried, hoping to reclaim his lost position.

Jaikishen had his set of worries too. He had to climb a 1000 feet of hard rock, locate the little spring that erupts out a narrow crevice, gather every dripping part of it into his pail and then descend the same 1000 feet, all the while fighting the burning sun. Life is a worry-list – as soon as you tick one, the next one starts prompting!

Jillian did have a soft corner for Jaikishen though, so granny’s cough was not her only woe. The picture of Jaikishen struggling to get to the top coupled with her wild imagery of the rumoured ape-man pouncing on her Jaikishen and tearing him to bits was equally unnerving. She decided to follow him.

He started early to avoid the burning sun and also to get Grandma well soon. He did reach the crevice and was filling his pail when it happened. Rays as hot as fire leapt at him while sweat rolled off him generously. In fact, it could even fill his pail up.

Drained out of every ounce of fluid, he conked off with a few day stars fluttering around.

Meanwhile, Jillian wasn’t far behind as she had taken another path; a secret one that meandered around a cool cave but the more dangerous one – the abode of the rumored ape-man.  Love can stake anything!

In typical cinematic fashion, as soon as she emerged out of the cave, she set her eyes on him, bringing about a coy smile, but she was stunned to see him fall like a pack of cards. Springing to him, she sprinkled a little of the Hilimanjharo water on his thirsty face and almost as if by magic, he opened his eyes!

God knows what happened next but then they came down singing happily with the birds and the bees.

A legend was in the making so Jaikishen tripped over an imaginary boulder that broke his crown and Jillian came tumbling right after him. 🙂

Vinphy’s Phone laws:

1. The rate of battery drain increases exponentially to the rate of urgency of an expected call.

2. Just when you’re expecting the ‘Will you be mine?’ part, the battery takes a cue and plays dead.

3. ‘Roaming’ is just that – keep roaming till you find a signal.

4. ‘Happy to help you’ is an oxymoron.

5. ‘Caller tunes’ can also be called as ‘Cooler tunes’.

6. The month you had taken a ‘maun vrath’ will always have the highest bill.

7. Phone companies have a sense of humour. How else can one explain the ‘service tax’?

8. Value added services add more value to the company’s turnover.

9. The ‘mute’ button goes deaf when you speak the Truth involuntarily.

10. A dog can follow you everywhere except for closed, confined spaces eg. Toilets, lifts

11. The price of a cellphone will begin falling only after you have bought it.

12. ‘Customer Care’ is short for ‘Customer.. Care a Damn for you’.

Vinphy’s AnyTimeMoney? Laws:

1. An ATM is a thinking machine. It has an ego so Be Kind to it.

2. On cash-strapped days, one can see the neighborhood ATM grinning from side to side.

3. The bugs in the ATM s/w get activated at the same rate of urgency with which you need cash.

4.The amount of currency inside the ATM is inversely proportional to the amount needed.

5. The newly installed standby machines are just that – stand by.

6. The first time ATM users who are learning all the functions will almost always be before you.

7. An ATM has a soul and a karma and the money in it is an illusion.

8. God doesn’t need cash. All ATM’s are in hell.

9. The queue at the ATM is directly proportional to the urgency of cash needed.

10.‘God-damn-you!’ command to an ATM means that you want to gift your card to it.


P.S: These are my ‘real life’ experiences/ lessons. Please abide by them seriously.