Statue of Puberty

Our kids (in particular, the Ghoshs, the Iyers, the Kunders, Mehtas, Manniges, Palanys, Yederys, Raos, Joshis, Nadkarnis, Mathurs, Tanks) would one day exhibit a part of our genome (time to go woohoo) when their nursery rhymes go like …

Iyer’s kid
twinkle twinkle little star
how i wonder how you are
up above the world so high
appa amma in the sky
yeh jo chaand hai na ….

Alap’s kid
johnny johnny
yes papa
eating sugar
no papa
telling lies
no papa
open your mouth
go F#*$ yourself

Baangd’s kid
mary had a little lamb
little lamb, little lamb
mary had a little lamb
to kya mein naachu?
daaad, i want busta rhymes

Mannu’s kid
Baa, baa black sheep
Have you any food
Yes sir, yes sir
Three bags full
Sahi hai Sahi hai
Ma, i’m hungry, gimme thepla and undhio

Andy’s kid
Row, row, row your boat
Gently Down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.
I will still not tell Krupal’s kid
ki woh roti kyu khaata hai

Abhi’s kid
London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down, falling down.
London Bridge is falling down,
Lamba story hai, baadmein batayega

Paro’s kid
Jack and Jill went up the hill,
To fetch a pail of water,
I willin’t tell you what happened afterwards

Bird’s kid
This old man, he played one;
He played knick-knack on my thumb.
With a knick-knack, paddy whack,
This old man, hey he’s my own dad.

Apoo’s kid
A B C D E F G
H I J K Let me go pee
Old MacDonald had a farm, E I E I O,
Now I know my ABCs

Pully’s kid
Ring-a-ring o’roses
A pocket full of posies,
Atishoo! Atishoo!
We all fall down.
This is not helping me Pa
Can i please study for my SATs

Harshal’s kid
Hickory, dickory, dock,
The mouse ran up the clock.
AMD struck one
Intel struck nine
Hickory, dickory, dock
I want to clock my block

Alpu’s kid
Spiderman, Spiderman
Friendly neighbourhood Spiderman
(Interrupted by Dad)
“That’s not a Nursery Rhyme”
I know dad, I was teasing

Pals’ kid
Humpty Dumpty
Sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty
Had a great fall
Waaaaaaah Waaaaaah
MuuuhMeeeeee

Krupal’s kid
I’m a little teapot
Short and stout
Here is my handle
Here is my spout
When I get all steamed up
Hear me shout
I sound like my daddy
and bloj in my shorts

This post attempts to illustrate the choices made by us and their inherited follies. With that knowledge in order, it may also hurt sentiments of all those mentioned above and also turn nasty with riot bombs being hurled towards me by respective spouses. Worry not, coz I promise to bring their genome pools into a fresh batch of Nursery Rhymes as well. I sure can wait till everyone above ties the knot.

Also a third version will be created, which will have a mix-match of the husband-wife combined gene pool and direct attempts to assassinate their characters is quite obviously imminent.

Disclaimer: If any of the above families feel the need to dispute on the Rhyme selected and it’s inherited style, they may do so by actually procreating (usually takes nine months and a couple of years at least for the first few words to pop out) thereby proving that their respective kid sings the rhyme differently. All qualms of suing me will be taken in light spirit with mixing agents like cola or soda to be consumed at Alap’s place.

I would also like to invite you all to post alternatives to the above Rhymes in the comments section below, in true spirit, exhibiting all possible characteristics of the aforementioned (including me) with no qualms on holding back on assassination attempts.

A long ass time since I’ve plotted the ink stand and benched my chair. Actually, it’s been long mules since I’ve done a mighty deal of other stuff too. Most notably of those involved …

1. Throwing balloons on hapless bystanders in a shopping mall and when really bored bench not just water in a plastic bucket, but the bucket itself. (Note: name of the shopping mall has been hidden for security reasons – if anybody asks, “I didn’t do it, no one saw me do it”)
2. Throwing a cat off the building terrace – 8 floors (again Bakshi was the primary protagonist and not me and pals, we’re innocent, trust us)
3. Throwing a brick near a 4 year old kid playing on her tricycle (Bakshi again, but to our defense we were kids ourselves and gravity and its effects were being experimented)
4. Torturing ants (big black ants) by picking them up and putting them inside an ant eater farm made out of a shoe box filled with sand. To top it, we then went on torturing our own bacha party kids by making them try the same with big red ants and giving them bull that this will one day make them famous (Bakshi again).
5. Breaking all the ground floor window panes and shattering glasses playing Gully Cricket, Frisbee (sometimes with stumps) and sometimes (Bakshi once again) throwing water balloons, and then running off with all our inventory before the owner could set eyes on us.
6. Doing #5 above only to have Apoo come down at exactly the same time and get a beating (verbal) from the respective uncle. Note: Apoo used to study a lot then and not play as much for some reason or maybe he knew we were gonna break glasses or maybe he just likes arguing – we’ll never know. Of course Apoo wouldn’t go down without a fight when the uncles caught him. He was our man for the occasion (which he seldom involved in) and would argue to the fullest that kids needed to play and breaking of glasses shouldn’t stop them from doing it again (or playing actually). At no point would he say that he was not even there when it happened (which in Apoo’s case is true, unlike my above claims).
7. Filling buckets of water (no, not to throw at the above-signed shopping mall, but) to carry the same to Late Mrs. Estranged’s house as an errand. Oh wait, now this I really didn’t do. Apoo has had the knack of falling in trouble with all the weirdoes of the world and Late Mrs. Estranged was one of his earliest hookups. One fine day, whilst Apoo was happily playing, this lady comes up to him and asks him to fill buckets, which Apoo (good boy that he was and is) complied with. He lifted them and took them all the way to the 6th floor and when the lady told him he had to do two more; Apoo fled home, never to set eyes on the lady again. Story has it that Apoo fled home for reasons other than that mentioned (strange voodoo perhaps). Alas! We will never be able to verify this.
8. Breaking water leveler pipes on the terrace tank in an attempt to win a bet on a box of smokes (Bird was the culprit of course, apparently though he didn’t do it either – his brother was named prime culprit).
9. Breaking into the terrace without keys but using innovative methods to fool the elevator and our watchman. You see the elevator had the terrace button blocked from inside. The catch which we picked on was that the elevator would come up to the terrace if someone hit the button on the terrace. So all we needed was an eight foot long bamboo, three people to hold it and push it into the wing and right on the terrace button from the grill gate in front when two of our clan stood inside the lift. We hit the button, the lift comes up, the bamboo gang hides the bamboo, calls the lift back to the 7th floor, get on it, the two people who’re already up on the terrace call the bamboo gang up. And tadaaa, we’re all up there. Of course it didn’t stop there. We threw water on the watchman just to irritate him from the terrace and he would freak out on the fact that we got up there minus keys.
10. Getting oneself handcuffed by Nitish (my elder bro’s best bud) for sabotaging, mutilating and completely drenching Sr. Anna on a Holi week with balloons and gooey water. Yes I admit being a part of the sabotage activity on Sr. Anna, which led to the revenge plight by our seniors (my bro included) who were far more advanced and used handcuffs (real ones) to catch, drag and drench me and Sthalu with shampoo and muddy water in front of the building. Our Holi celebrations were truly wild.

Coming back to the present, our current bacha party in Nandanvan have found a new way to broaden their views & knowledge about air-pressure, sound and basic gravity principles. Unfortunately for me, they found my car to conduct these tests. I head down to the garage on my way to office on a Tuesday morning to find that three of my wheels were completely flattened out with incense sticks dispersed around. Not a very bright way to start office especially so if you are reduced to taking a cycle pump to pump air into those wheels. It continued into Wednesday when they successfully managed to damage the tube of my rear wheel. I welcomed my stepney to the streets of Mumbai, although I’m not too sure if it was too keen on hitting the roads with the onset of monsoons (really guys, my wheel speaks with me).

I deduce that the current world bacha-party have taken strides to try and avenge all the kidaas we did when we matched their age (actually a lot less, but good attempt). I intend to let them have their fun of course. I miss my old days big time, I’ll let them make good use of theirs.

PS: to avoid damages, I’ll probably team up with them and do someone else’s wheel this weekend, and if and when asked …

“I didn’t do it, no one saw me do it!”

For someone to be placed in the “…busier than a page 3 socialite…” category and to top it, have it published in a business paper, it takes quite some beating (or at least upto the point of having Income Tax professionals shun into their houses).

Yes quite right, I’m in the news folks. Priyanka Joshi (not related to Apoo) from Business Standard chatted up with me over the week (last) and put me in the tabloid.

BTW, the page 3 part had me doing flips. I was down and out with tummy cramps when I read the article. A bit of a history, the friend’s mom I was talking about there is Apoo’s mum, but she was more than nice to us during the time. It was Apoo au contraire who would bully us because of his size (huge kid).

I went home with a smile the day I saw the article …. well, here’s to small fame (and glorifying it on my blog) <- I was raising a toast to meself there in case you missed it (read: stupid)

http://www.business-standard.com/common/storypage_supp.php?autono=265172&leftnm=2&subLeft=0&chkFlg=Features

and

http://www.rediff.com/money/2006/nov/18spec1.htm

or just google me (how besharam can I get!)

For those of you who despise URLs ….

“With the release of the Sony PlayStation 3 (PS3), things can only get better,” exults another gamer, Abhijeet Kunder. For this 27-year-old, gaming began at “a friend’s house”. Kunder was 10 years old when he picked up his first console.

“There were days I used to be holed up at my friend’s place for hours playing console games.” It was only when his friend’s mother told them to get out and get a life that he realised that he was hooked on to games.

Working now with Hewitt Associates in Mumbai, Kunder’s off-hours are busier than a Page 3 socialite. “I run gaming communities, LAN groups and have seen a steady escalation in terms of participants and game penetration,” he says.

I’ve been accused of buying household items only to not use it enough (or at all – before this there was the portable vacuum cleaner, handy sewing machine amongst a large a list spanning 10 years), read on…

After a good deal of thought on buying a treadmill, I did buy one only to find myself not using it for all its worth. Contemplating the belief that I would indeed get those extra pounds off, the heavy task of assembling the darn thing by itself was a huge workout. Very conveniently I skipped the mill for a week (body ache post assembly was incredible, of course, that being the reason). A week later, dawned a new beginning. Yes, I stepped on the rotor of that 3HP mean machine. I walked, jogged and ran, pumped my heart beat to a max, burnt calories like i’d never done so before. It lasted whole of twenty minutes after which I decided to rest my weary legs (for a whole week). This cycle continued for a good 2 months (20 minutes of workout followed by a week of rest).

The end result … I’ve gained a decent deal of pounds post buying the treadmill, which on scale, is a difficult task to achieve, you’d expect that outta me, now won’t you (my mum thought so, and that’s the prophecy she made, makes her a genius, i think).
She’s contemplating beating me with a whip to get me thin now after her second failed attempt at pushing me into her yoga class. I would think the whip’s the right way, most of you would too.

(dab) dab (dab) ….

Last week, was the time I turned a year older (and dumber). This au contraire to the year that passed fell far short. Last year in Charlotte, Raj and gang took me to Hooters, which for obvious reasons I cannot forget. The pretties had me do ’stuff’ with balloons on top of a chair whilst they were ‘dancing’ around singing me a birthday duel.

This year was a drab, with ’stuffie’ noses and ‘dancing’ mercury dots. Yes, I fell ill just before my birthday (or bewdaday as apoo calls it). I did however meet the boys this time (missed them last time round, although I’m sure if they’d been in Hooters, I’d be the last person they’d want to wish). The drinks were on the house at CT (despite the size) and bird as usual got sloshed and began to blab about mortality. Bird was in pain that night, his wisdom tooth was coming off (or going off track, which pretty much sums up why we so affectionately call him Bird). Bangd (who earlier in the day called me up to hitch CT’s phone number, to apparently book the place for the evening??#$ … now that’s a first!) seemed to think otherwise and kept referring to Bird’s tooth as Beak. We requested Bangd to slap himself hard and sanity prevailed that night.

(dab) dab (dab) …

During our conversation with Bird, he mentioned some strange curtailed facts. He lectured us on how a certain mortality defacto struck him when he hit upon an old school snap. His exact words then were “I saw the picture and suddenly realized that we are all mortals” and also went on to add, “I don’t remember my childhood man, not a bit”. This time round we did think of throwing the convenient anti-amnesia punch-on-head (soft portion = chota dimaag) but fortunately for him, didn’t. Come to think of it (we do this a lot now), it’s true isn’t it? We remember so little of our childhood and very soon will remember only a tiny few incidents of the time we’re letting go today.
I drabbed back into my old albums to leech a few of my bacha snaps. These snaps are my own gift to me this birthday.

it always starts with a smile ….

then there are times ….

and a true classic …

… and yes Bird , i don’t remember these either …. “God, please install more memory in my next life”

Don’t think I have much to say now … maybe mum’s whip will make me run on the treadmill (or atleast out of the house).

Actually not quite about cats and dogs … but read on …

Ever wondered why men (except Apoo) are inclined towards dogs more than women (note: men like women too, but we’ll talk about that a little later). Just the same, there are more women in this world that like cats more than dogs, compared with men (and no, I cannot tell you if they do like men the same way, that’s been a mystery for ages someone tells me).

Let’s try and probe this a wee bit, and to make things interesting lets map cats and dogs to their likes and dislikes, and around that, understand key areas which define their appeal.

The Truth (in bits):

• Dogs come when they’re called; cats take a message and get back to you later
• You’re not a real person until a cat ignores you; you are not Apoorva Joshi if a dog ignores you.
• Cats must attack their master’s shoelaces when they are tying them; Dogs do the same when no one’s looking.
• Cats are quite good at domesticating humans; dogs are quite good at domesticating themselves.

So why is it that more women in this world prefer cats when all the qualities they need in a partner is so easily satisfied by dogs. Things like:

• Dogs listen
• Dogs don’t want to have sex (with humans)
• Dogs obey
• Dogs never say no to shopping
• Dogs listenDogs don’t watch sports (unless explicitly asked)

… And a ton of lopsided entries should ideally have put the doggie variety on their priority list.

We men don’t do a fraction of what’s mentioned above, that apart, the discussion point here is that cats are a tad better in the ignorance department (At least we lie our balls off whilst trying to evade a funny situation. Cats just don’t bother).

It all falls in place if we’d consider the hoop, that women albeit showing that burst of impatience on the outside, are a practicing lot on the patience scale within a secret society that engulfs us. They’re practicing the art of patience with the best in the business (and no, we men are not quite there).

Note: There are women-kind (?) who do like dogs (viz. Mahi). But these could be discarded ignornants and lazers who don’t have the big picture (or were intended to be men, but nature toyed with them).

So, what do we have here? A gender clan trying to romp up scales of power? Yes men, beware of this growing degree of women who’re training themselves to rule this world and us.

We’re no less than dogs to them, and it’s about time we step up and growl, swell and show our fangs.

(see, this is why I grow my nails)

Funny conversation time yet again … small and notoriously hilarious …

Topic: Pals’ birthday which incidentally falls on 27th of this month

Bird
Dear Pals,
Many Happy Returns of the day ….have a great year ahead.
Warm Regards,

Abhi
It’s on the 27th re … but if it makes u happy

Apoo
Bird, tu item hai! I still dont get it…. why do we say “returns”? What are we returning?
Now that Bird has wished you Pals, throw us a party!

Pals
I am soooo touched by these wishes made in advance…:-)Well thank you all anyways and yeah appu tu idhar ajatereko mast party doonga…:-)

Tak
hey pals,Wish you a happy bday !

Apoo
HA!
Tak, I jes love you man! this is like asking at the end of ramayana, who was ‘Draupadi’. (yses, I know she was mahabharata, but thats the catch!)
Stop studying so much Tak!
Whats the probability we will forget to wish Pals on 27th?
TAK: Thats his Birthday!


Junta on respective floors holding tummy

Apoo (low voice)

I almost gave up hope. There were so many times I questioned myself. I’ve made so many sacrifices but it’s all been worth it.

(beat)

There are millions and millions of mediocre people in the world Abhi. Isn’t it great that we aren’t one of them?
Abhi looks like he stopped breathing as he backs up in the store. Customers step between him and Apoo. Apoo becomes obscured and then blocked from view.

Out on the Street

Abhi emerges from the store slowly. He braces himself against a parked car and then keeps on walking in a nightmarish daze.
Camera pulls back as he blends in with dozens and dozens of ordinary people, walking on an ordinary street, in an ordinary city.

Fade to black ………………………

Night M. Shyamalan made the stunning movie Sixth Sense and followed it up with another stunner (not many felt so though), Unbreakable. Unbreakable made its mark with a remarkable script. A script which was incredibly linear yet had unrivaled depth.

Unbreakable was about opposites. It was about the strongest and the weakest, black and white, yin and yang. The story brought out the simple fact about nature; the fact that it deals with opposites in just the same way as we inexplicably do so whilst comparing individuals, objects, art, work, skill and sometimes immeasurable entities. Yea, don’t deny it, we compare everything. Shyamalan took that simple fact and extended it to a unified basis (put them on either side of a two point scale balance) that everything exists in duality. Built a story around it. Put a weak man (a very weak man) and a strong man (a very strong man) and made a Miranda on a superhero/rapscallion.

Coming to the point of why this story comes on my blog years after the movie came out is the real question, isn’t it?

Well yea, the characters in the script-skit on top had Apoo playing Samuel L. Jackson’s character Elijah and me playing Bruce Willis’ character David Dunne. Although there’s no real way to measure opposites, some think we come pretty close to Elijah and David.

Scene: Paro, Alap and Abhi are sitting in the car parked next to the pavement opposite Sony Mony, Irla. Paro’s in the driving seat, Alap at the back and Abhi in the front next to Paro. Alap and Paro are lighting their cigarettes. Abhi’s window is up (closed).

Two brown English Cockers are walking by with their master on the pavement towards the car. One of the two dogs spots Abhi through the front windshield. The long droopy ears go up and the tail begins to wag. The dog starts to drag the master toward the car. It comes close the door and starts pawing at the door. Abhi pulls down the window. Dog’s still pawing. Abhi opens the door. Dog struggles to climb up (note: this breed has a low torso, like a Daschund), but tries all its might and comes and rests its long chin and two fore legs on Abhi’s lap. Dog then looks up at him with tilted face. Alap, Paro and Abhi all go gurly with “awee”. Alap cries out to Paro, “quick, take a snap”, but dog master pulls doggie away.

This incident’s just one of the very many incidents with dogs that I have come across in my life. They just go gaga over me for some reason. Every time I come home late from office (or from drink sessions or usually both), I get escorted by the street ruffian doggies, who otherwise thwart anybody and everybody under the sun (especially so if you’re a bhaiya and you drive a rickshaw). They jog and dance alongside me and accompany me all the way to our building main gate from the society entrance (sometimes right up to our wing entrance), and then just walk back to run after hapless bhaiyas. There have been instances with ferocious bloodthirsty canines rippling up around me and sobering down their teeth and claws to sit meekly by my feet. My visit to the US also had firang doggies skip a breath when they’d sniff/spot me. They’d run up to me and start drooling over visible skin portions. It’s just incredibly amazing to experience something in this super affection scale.

I won’t go into stories that describe Apoo’s misfalls on the other side of this scale balance, (we all know about them already). Is it fair to say that Apoo and me fall in this amassing scale of opposites?

If yes then Apoo, here’s a note for you. You don’t have to search for the opposite side of You and in the very process, destroy a lot of innocent beagles by fending them off to the hungriest of canines. Don’t do that, you know where I stay (bang opposite your door man).

PS: I also need your comic book collection (or wait, did I dhaap them already?)

This is the story, of a boy named Apoorva Joshi.
This boy played good fair cricket
Mastered the art of swing bowling when he was very young
Soon became the captain of Nandanvan Cricket Board
His passion and love for the sport bore no bounds

Apoo was a class apart
He wore his favourite chadds and hit the grounds
He made sure he gave everything to his team
Including his peculiar bowling style
(for the rest of the world to laugh, most would agree)
But it was cute nevertheless

So what was this famous style that carried words and sentences to mighty distances?
Why was it so special that every team in the block wanted to play with us?
(not because we lost so often, we’re sure)
Why was it that we had sugandi devi’s chillar pillar coming over to witness this wonder?
Why was it that audiences from across the border were onlookers for this wondrous nature’s yell?

Well hell yea … our boy Apoorva Joshi had the style …
His bowling style dictated amassing auras of chronic nature’s calls
Apoo would start with a normal run-up, pass the umpire and head towards the crease
And then would exhibit the most natural of stances a doggie would take when he’s gotta leak

Yes, Apoo does a doggie pee
He gets his leg up and pauses for a century
God knows why it stays for so long
Ah well, I figure it’s for me to blog on

There are no two words to describe this call
The batsman’s wondering where’s the ball
The keeper, his fielders are waiting so
But Apoo, well he won’t let go

God, there were times when we were playing underarm cricket and we thought Apoo would still get that leg up … We used to think we didn’t water the pitch enough and Apoo was showing his noble gestures.

His legs went up we thought he’d spray
But we knew one day he had to pray

I know this brings the same amount of joy and glee as any other Apoo bashing story.

But trust me … you had to be there … maybe we’ll make him bowl/spray for us again though.

An Ode to Apoo

Doggie: Worf …
Doggie: worf …
Doggie: rrowww brrrowww
Apoo: arrghhh …
Apoo: huff …
Apoo: huff …
Sound effects: Budoosh digdradaadam dooosh …
Aunty 2: Sorry
Apoo: poink … (getting up and falling back down on butt)
Doggie: rrrowww … rrooowww …
Doggie: Karchhh .. arrrhhhg … broowwwwwwwwwwwwwww
Apoo: huff …. Huff
(10 second silence)
Junta: moohahahaahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
Junta: bruhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

Long long time ago, on the pavements of S.V Road, opposite Happy Restaurant next to macho age old mochi waala (Nandanvan’s family cobbler) and Spenta/Yankee Doodle (now Brrrista), we came upon this famed legend known to most brethren world over, Apoo and his fear for canines.

the story …

For reasons known only to a few, we were incredibly religious back in our teens. We religiously followed up on the practice of eating Prasad at the Hanuman Mandir (temple) every day after play. And this one day was no exception. This legendary misfortune to the one, came about as one of the most hilarious of live events in the amassing scale of our nanguys journals (the monkey incident was pre-planned … bakshi, pals and the monkey had ties … some say. And besides farro and me were hapless but unhurt victims there. Hence we may not deem them to be hilarious).

So we go for our rounds around the temple and the deity, finish with the same and proceed towards Prasad, pick, eat, wear our footwear and move towards home. This journey back home, which usually lasts about 10 mins of slow walking, took Apoo precisely 15 seconds of extreme scuttling.

Lets flash back to the set of events that unfolded … as was … no cookups … some may argue on the minor detailing going here … but the essence of the story remains, I say …

Scene: Bakshi and Anna (weird combination, I know) are leading the pack after a successful mission at the temple. A group of 7-8 lookhas almost walking in a bunch is what it looks like to the common man (not visually impaired). Bird is still hooked onto his recurring dream of jumping out of his balcony, I am busy beating up Pals, Farro’s combing his hair, Apoo is in the midst doing nothing (little did he know that he would be in the thick of things). Mask and Dada are as usual and contemplating defeating each other in carrom by gassing each other out. Sthalu is trying to help me beat Pals up, but instead is getting the brunt of the shelling from Pals’ recently acquired Taekwondo skills. There is a Fiat (Premiere Padmini) parked besides the macho age old mochi walla (important point).

This lady (Aunty 1) is walking her white Gujarati Pomeranian on that same road. And as innate and ordered chaos prevails, it spots Apoo not doing much (Anna and Bakshi are also not doing a great deal, but for some reason doggie chooses to spare them … and besides you can’t really picture them being at the receiving end by a doggie). And the dog charges at Apoo. Our jhund (group), almost as though planned to act, vaccumizes the space around Apoo with the primary intention of making the line of sight clear (assuming the doggie had already smelt his victim) for the doggie. The rest is history!!

It took us a whole week to stop cracking up on the issue (till we found someone else to crap on, I think).

The funny part now in pseudo code form:

1: Doggie smells Apoo
2: Apoo feels doggie’s presence
3: Group feels tension and expands to form a circle around Apoo
4: Doggie spots Apoo
5: Apoo spots doggie (and blood and gore and teeth and claws and other elements)
6: Doggie charges at Apoo
7: Apoo runs
8: Doggie wanna hurt Apoo
9: Apoo no wanna be hurt
10: Doggie lets loose of leash
11: Aunty 1 shouts “no doggie (use doggie name instead)”
12: Doggie no listen
13: Aunty 1 says “don’t run, he will bite”
14: Apoo: “yea rite … pant huff”
15: Doggie: “Worf … worf”
16. Group: “harhaharrr”
17: Apoo runs toward macho age old mochi walla (on the pavement)
18. Aunty 2 in Fiat opens door to step out of car
19: Apoo hits car door
20: Budoosh digdradaadam dooosh …
21. Doggie still wanna hurt Apoo
22. Apoo still don’t wanna be hurt by doggie
23. Aunty 2: “sorry”
24: Apoo gets up faster than anything/one has ever done so
25: Doggie no empathize
26: Doggie almost rips into Apoo
27: Apoo runs across cars and traffic, reaches Vishnu Baug gate and disappears
28: Doggie punches paws on ground
29: Group still on floor laughing off each other’s asses
30: Doggie comes back to owner and starts the walk all over again.
31: No sign of Apoo for 2 days
32: Group still on floor, 7 days from the date of the event

My gift to Apoo before I left Charlotte (although this doesn’t look anywhere close to what that Gujju doggie looked like)

Why this gift (note: the doggie here is doing pee-pee) was apt for Apoo is a different story altogether … I’ll only post the same if Apoo permits me to do so.

There is never a dearth of overly enthusiastic hyperactive souls in and around our lives. We all have one or two in our offices, schools, colleges, (in Apoo’s case, his Gym and a lot of other places too I’m sure). We seldom have problems with these people. They bring out elements of fun and godly energy in all their endeavors (fruitful or not) and that reflects upon the people they’re with. We’re a happy bunch with these people (well almost always anyways).

And then again there has to be a flip side to this behavior coin with these other few, who despite being as hyperactive as the ones I mentioned above go way beyond the qualms of stupefying their behavior to undefined extremities.

Yes let’s talk about a few of these kinds today!!

The kind I’m referring-to, are distinctively disliked (not hated, but disliked) by all known humans (including their own kind). They have this knack of worrying for all the wrong reasons and what’s more, they charge and enforce the same upon the innocent few around them. The basis which govern their behavior could be as trivial as spotting a small black ant or a house-fly strolling on or around their desks. For all the money’s worth they will, through their divine derivations conclude that the world will end in approximately 21 hours. Yess believe it!! I know one such being (well thank god its just one).

This dude, lets call him X, is the epitome of blemish skits world over. He is directly affected by everything under the sun. Trust me on this when I say EVERYTHING, I most certainly mean it. X’s path is crossed by a black cat and he will worry for himself and the cat. He will march thru’ the history behind the cat’s birth, trace back to its fore-parents and draw conclusions with Darwinian evolution as to why their ecology permits this paraplegic calamity in the making (that of the cat crossing his path on that day). X is also amazingly skilled at making the other person believe that he/she (the person speaking with him) is severely flawed in all aspects of life and the best option for him/her and the living world is simply to not be in the living world. And he/she will select the best possible method to end his/her hideous lives. The stronger souls choose not to speak with him and only communicate thru’ a neutral medium (I usually play that part, although thankfully back home there’s my dear friend who’s burdened with that task right now, but is doing so fantastically well). A mighty lot have fallen into his trap already and its only time till they snap into suspended animation and ask the almighty for forgiveness. Life as a neutral isn’t as easy either. The pompous idiot will drain your living breathe even after a 5 minute conversation (usually it stands at five minutes of sustained brain drainer with 10 repeat sessions of the exact same demeanor crossing over your sad lives). This, is what X can do to you!!

On a milder count but surely a parallel to X, sometime last week, Rajesh told me about this lady (his old college mate’s wife) who came over to the city (in her first visit to the country). In this short period of 7 days, Rajesh, poor fella, had his terror/tormentor slider move way beyond the permitted scale calibration. So much for being a nice guy he says. Last night (or early morning today), at about 4 AM he gets a call from lady tormentor. If I could rephrase that, he gets a hell-raising, knuckle-binding shout from the other side of what was previously called his cell phone (now a disgruntled traitor, he calls it, that he threw off cursing his luck, breaking it into 5 non-fixable pieces of junk. He apparently also sprained his arm and neck in the effort). And what was this hullabaloo all about? Well lady tormentor was stuck in the Laundromat (at freaking 4 AM). First up, WTF was she doing there at that FOUR FREAKIN AM? Anyways, her reason for calling in was not cause she was stuck, but she wanted to know why she was stuck. And whether her usage of water and detergent made the locking of the doors eminent. She apparently called the Bell staff in the hotel asking them the same and got nozzled responses (what would you expect at 4 AM) Now to think that, is fine, but to make frantic calls to Rajesh and not asking for help but demanding for reasons behind the locking up and that too at 4 AM is … ahummm … Crazeeeeee?? Lady, its that time of the year again when check your marbles … yes … its about time sweetie… and for heavens sake … do your clothes at an earthly hour. And leave my good friend alone, he’s my only source to good bars around the city. And I don’t want him psyched out before I leave.

Apparently the rest of last week wasn’t too good either, with lady tormentor suggesting that Rajesh’s hair ought to be more superfluous than it currently was. This happened after 3 days of reconfirming with Rajesh of whether the phone service she just bought had free incoming and outgoing during weekends. She still calls him to confirm the same I’m told (he transferred his line to a new phone piece, he curses himself for doing that now). The name of the package BTW was Free Weekends.

Well anyways … coming back to X, news is he’s on a rampage back home coz the rains stopped without telling him why. He’s blaming his wife for the fact that his kids nails are growing faster than what he claims is the normal rate. I hope she’s a neutral (Neutrals are BTW the most patient of people on planet earth. You could also call them crazy, blind, deaf, dumb etc. as in my case)

Uncut news: Some unconfirmed reports are that he’s going around the city stopping vehicles on the road asking them for their PUC papers.

Watch out fellas. X might just break your day!!