Then what if I eat nuts!
P.S. An old joke I know :D
[Link]
February 25, 2009
Save me an explanation
The new caption of an old neighborhood restaurant:
February 18, 2009
The mystery behind the practice
What does an average demented Indian do when he’s 17 years old?? That’s right, he goes for tuition, slogs and prepares for entrance exams. Now, those people who were enlightened and smart enough not to go for engineering, medicine, mosquito killing, bug bashing et al, please excuse; I was referring to the not-so-fortunate hapless souls. Our gang of demented, undernourished, ill begotten young teenagers thrived in the tuition classes hurling paper rockets and gawking at girls. Learning, studying, cramming and other socially acceptable activities were done during the precious moments snatched in between sleep. Inky pinky ponkying on the OMR sheet and randomly bubbling on it became a mundane affair. And hitting rock bottom marks became as routine as brushing our teeth (yeah we did brush our teeth, seriously!). But all of a sudden, Mundan Pakru started scoring astronomical marks for mock tests. Rumors started spreading that Pakru is burning the midnight oil cramming volumes of information and that Pakru’s mom now feeds him gallons of vitamin tonics and Dabur Chyawanprash. We were amazed at Pakru’s sudden metamorphosis into a brilliant, studious chap and when asked about it he smugly gave some unsolicited advice:
“Practice man practice. Practice makes perfect; perfect like me.”
One day, we went to Pakru’s house to collect some notes; Pakru wasn’t there and as we waited for him to come, we had a casual talk with his mom. Somewhere in the midst of the talk, his ‘too naïve’ mom says, “It’s quite strange. Pakru has been writing alphabets all the time. Always writing ABCD on pieces of paper.”
Writing alphabets?? ABCD??? Pieces of paper??!!!
A little investigation into the case disentangled the mystery behind the sudden rise of Pakru’s marks. Our tuition class had various batches at different timings and all batches got the same question paper for tests. What did that smart-ass of a Pakru do? He simply borrowed the question paper and the keys from the previous batch and Voila!! A brilliant student formed out of thin air. Later we confronted Pakru and quipped,
“So this is what your ‘practicing’ was all about eh? Practicing ABCD??”
only to see the big wide grin of Pakru (showing his big yellow teeth. No, we didn’t believe he brushed his teeth).
“Practice man practice. Practice makes perfect; perfect like me.”
One day, we went to Pakru’s house to collect some notes; Pakru wasn’t there and as we waited for him to come, we had a casual talk with his mom. Somewhere in the midst of the talk, his ‘too naïve’ mom says, “It’s quite strange. Pakru has been writing alphabets all the time. Always writing ABCD on pieces of paper.”
Writing alphabets?? ABCD??? Pieces of paper??!!!
A little investigation into the case disentangled the mystery behind the sudden rise of Pakru’s marks. Our tuition class had various batches at different timings and all batches got the same question paper for tests. What did that smart-ass of a Pakru do? He simply borrowed the question paper and the keys from the previous batch and Voila!! A brilliant student formed out of thin air. Later we confronted Pakru and quipped,
“So this is what your ‘practicing’ was all about eh? Practicing ABCD??”
only to see the big wide grin of Pakru (showing his big yellow teeth. No, we didn’t believe he brushed his teeth).
February 14, 2009
Snippets from ol' school
The most wonderful thing about blogging for me is that I can pen down all the trivial things that has happened around me. Everyone remembers the big big things and turning points in their life, but those trivial things, I believe, are the diamonds in the dust heap. Some years down the line, when new aspirations start replacing old memories, I can sit back and reread all these moronic stuff and relive all those bygones for eternity.
Some long lost memories from the high school period:-
Joy Sir: What’s the disadvantage of using phase changer?
*silence pervades in the class when all of a sudden*
Dutt: Sir, it’s hard to turn the knob!
Joy Sir: Come here, I’ll show you how to make it easy.
Sir makes a live demonstration on the twisting and turning of Duttan’s ear. (Dutt is actually right; it’s indeed hard to turn that knob you see in the phase changer of your house; a very innocent answer)
Jithin lazily enters the class after the break and walks slowly towards his seat.
An irate Titus Sir: Can’t you walk a bit faster??
Jithin: Sir, slow and steady wins the race.
*Jithin gets chucked out of the class*
Joy Sir is about to pinch Bejoy’s ear for not doing the homework.
Bejoy: Sir please, not my ear!
Joy Sir: Why?
Bejoy: Sir, ear bone fracture!
Philipose Sir castigates Subin, says “I can’t believe there’re such idiots in this class”. Hearing that, Alex starts guffawing wildly. Without batting an eyelid, Philipose Sir: “And that includes you”.
This is one of the best translations of an English proverb to Malayalam I’ve heard. Don’t ‘member whose idea it was, but it goes like this:
English: Aim for the sky and you’ll at least reach the treetop.
Translation: Aakaashavum nookki nadannaal avasaanam thenginte mandayil kayari irikkaam.
Pimply is perhaps the most voracious reader I’ve ever known. He reads in bus, in class, during lunch breaks, during games period, during assembly; any given day, any given time, always has a book in his hand. And he has been thrown out of class numerous times for reading books during class time. The way he picks books from the library is the most amusing thing to watch. He goes straight to the shelf, picks a book, starts reading the book right there, standing. After finishing more than half of the book, he closes the book, says, “Che! Eee booke kollathilla”, keeps the book back in the shelf and walks away.
Aleykutty Madam is intensively teaching Hindi when all of a sudden Rohit, my benchmate, jumps from his seat and runs to Madam; says something and runs out of the class; Madam runs behind him. Everyone is perplexed as to what happened just then. Later it was revealed that Rohit accidentally swallowed the cap of his cello gripper pen; he was taken to the hospital, x-rays and all those numerous scans were taken, but unfortunately the cap couldn’t be located. Finally, doctor’s advice: “Eat lot of fruits…..and be easy when you go to toilet”. To take care of himself if history repeats, he decided to become a doctor. Last year I met the doctor-in-the-making and we reminisced about the salad days of school life when he spoke about the thoughts that were running through his head in that Hindi period.
Rohit: Eda, I thought I would die that day!
Me: Too bad! I wonder about the plight of the patients coming to you. At least they would’ve been saved.
Rohit: Oh yeah! Come to me when you get some AIDS and you know what I’ll do, I’ll ask you take an appointment, then without an iota of sympathy, I’ll charge you an exorbitant fee for consultation, then I’ll give you some quack medicines.
Me: Don’t worry. I won’t come to you. I fear for my life.
Rohit: HA! So you accept you’ll get AIDS!
Me: You’re still pathetic.
Rohit: So are you!
Well, rumors are there that the cello gripper cap is still there in Rohit’s stomach.
I know I've missed a lot of things in this space and I'ven't done justice in penning down everything that had happened, blame it on my memory. But, Rohit, I, Jithin, Pimply, Alex and all those goofs, I believe, will still, if given a chance, jump into those black pants and white shirt with a water bottle around the neck to match and hit the benches and desks to live once more those wacky silly nutty days. Anytime.
Some long lost memories from the high school period:-
Joy Sir: What’s the disadvantage of using phase changer?
*silence pervades in the class when all of a sudden*
Dutt: Sir, it’s hard to turn the knob!
Joy Sir: Come here, I’ll show you how to make it easy.
Sir makes a live demonstration on the twisting and turning of Duttan’s ear. (Dutt is actually right; it’s indeed hard to turn that knob you see in the phase changer of your house; a very innocent answer)
Jithin lazily enters the class after the break and walks slowly towards his seat.
An irate Titus Sir: Can’t you walk a bit faster??
Jithin: Sir, slow and steady wins the race.
*Jithin gets chucked out of the class*
Joy Sir is about to pinch Bejoy’s ear for not doing the homework.
Bejoy: Sir please, not my ear!
Joy Sir: Why?
Bejoy: Sir, ear bone fracture!
Philipose Sir castigates Subin, says “I can’t believe there’re such idiots in this class”. Hearing that, Alex starts guffawing wildly. Without batting an eyelid, Philipose Sir: “And that includes you”.
This is one of the best translations of an English proverb to Malayalam I’ve heard. Don’t ‘member whose idea it was, but it goes like this:
English: Aim for the sky and you’ll at least reach the treetop.
Translation: Aakaashavum nookki nadannaal avasaanam thenginte mandayil kayari irikkaam.
Pimply is perhaps the most voracious reader I’ve ever known. He reads in bus, in class, during lunch breaks, during games period, during assembly; any given day, any given time, always has a book in his hand. And he has been thrown out of class numerous times for reading books during class time. The way he picks books from the library is the most amusing thing to watch. He goes straight to the shelf, picks a book, starts reading the book right there, standing. After finishing more than half of the book, he closes the book, says, “Che! Eee booke kollathilla”, keeps the book back in the shelf and walks away.
Aleykutty Madam is intensively teaching Hindi when all of a sudden Rohit, my benchmate, jumps from his seat and runs to Madam; says something and runs out of the class; Madam runs behind him. Everyone is perplexed as to what happened just then. Later it was revealed that Rohit accidentally swallowed the cap of his cello gripper pen; he was taken to the hospital, x-rays and all those numerous scans were taken, but unfortunately the cap couldn’t be located. Finally, doctor’s advice: “Eat lot of fruits…..and be easy when you go to toilet”. To take care of himself if history repeats, he decided to become a doctor. Last year I met the doctor-in-the-making and we reminisced about the salad days of school life when he spoke about the thoughts that were running through his head in that Hindi period.
Rohit: Eda, I thought I would die that day!
Me: Too bad! I wonder about the plight of the patients coming to you. At least they would’ve been saved.
Rohit: Oh yeah! Come to me when you get some AIDS and you know what I’ll do, I’ll ask you take an appointment, then without an iota of sympathy, I’ll charge you an exorbitant fee for consultation, then I’ll give you some quack medicines.
Me: Don’t worry. I won’t come to you. I fear for my life.
Rohit: HA! So you accept you’ll get AIDS!
Me: You’re still pathetic.
Rohit: So are you!
Well, rumors are there that the cello gripper cap is still there in Rohit’s stomach.
I know I've missed a lot of things in this space and I'ven't done justice in penning down everything that had happened, blame it on my memory. But, Rohit, I, Jithin, Pimply, Alex and all those goofs, I believe, will still, if given a chance, jump into those black pants and white shirt with a water bottle around the neck to match and hit the benches and desks to live once more those wacky silly nutty days. Anytime.
February 12, 2009
Of fans & tails
Bijo is a sweet and simple guy in my telecom class at Keltron. Bijo is from the north of Kerala. For the uninitiated, the people to the north are ardent fans of Mammootty and those to the south are ardent fans of Mohanlal. Also for the uninitiated, the locals of Trivandrum (ya ya it includes me) are perhaps one of the rudest lot in the State. Altercations between the fans of both actors are pretty common in the city. So much by way of introduction.
Last day Bijo decided to see a movie (starring Mammootty of course); he hires an autorikshaw and goes to the theatre. As the rikshaw approached the theatre, the auto driver peeped his head out, looks at the Mammootty poster, turns back and stares at Bijo. The stare gradually turns to scorn; driver opens his mouth; theri abhisheekam begins.....FLASH! FLASH!....Ninakkonnum veere oru cinemayum kaanaan kittiyilla alleedaa....FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!!!.....Bijo barely escapes from the scene.
Next day Bijo comes to me and says,
“Enthuvaada eee naattukaarude prashnam. Aaa auto driver enne thalli illaa ennee olloo; kashtichu rekshapettu. Njaan ithrayum pulicha theri ithu vare keettittilla.”
I grinned and said “Welcome to Tvm. Our motto is ‘Live and let die’."
P.S. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
Last day Bijo decided to see a movie (starring Mammootty of course); he hires an autorikshaw and goes to the theatre. As the rikshaw approached the theatre, the auto driver peeped his head out, looks at the Mammootty poster, turns back and stares at Bijo. The stare gradually turns to scorn; driver opens his mouth; theri abhisheekam begins.....FLASH! FLASH!....Ninakkonnum veere oru cinemayum kaanaan kittiyilla alleedaa....FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!!!.....Bijo barely escapes from the scene.
Next day Bijo comes to me and says,
“Enthuvaada eee naattukaarude prashnam. Aaa auto driver enne thalli illaa ennee olloo; kashtichu rekshapettu. Njaan ithrayum pulicha theri ithu vare keettittilla.”
I grinned and said “Welcome to Tvm. Our motto is ‘Live and let die’."
P.S. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
February 7, 2009
Axe effect gone Ox effect
* No: of years since I’ve been using Axe: since before Noah’s flood
* No: of Axe bottles bought: countless
* No: of different flavors of Axe tried: umpteen
* No: of 100 Rs note Unilever oozed out of my pocket: I better not think about it
* No: of girls fallen (figuratively): 1 (rounded to the next highest integer)
* No: of girls fallen (literally): 1 (thanks to banana peels)
* No: of girls fallen (totally): Aargh, next question please.
* No: of infatuations (unrequited, obviously!): innumerous
* No: of Axe bottles bought: countless
* No: of different flavors of Axe tried: umpteen
* No: of 100 Rs note Unilever oozed out of my pocket: I better not think about it
* No: of girls fallen (figuratively): 1 (rounded to the next highest integer)
* No: of girls fallen (literally): 1 (thanks to banana peels)
* No: of girls fallen (totally): Aargh, next question please.
* No: of infatuations (unrequited, obviously!): innumerous
An inside view of my cupboard
Corollary:
* Money spent on Valentines Day: Not Applicable
* Money spent on romantic greeting cards: Nil
* Money spent on sweets, chocolates, ice-creams et al: Nil
* Money spent on cell phone recharge for romantic conversations: Nil
* Money spent on petrol to reach romantic spots: Nil
* Time spent in understanding female psyche: Nil
* Peace of mind attained: Infinite --- Quod Erat Demonstratum
To borrow the words from the blog of a senior at school as well as college:-
It’s ok. There’re always arranged marriages for losers like us.
--- Jiby
Anyway, an advance Happy Valentines Day! (to whomsoever it may concern)
February 3, 2009
A flawed cover-up
The driving goof ups of the fairer sex, as described by Mathew, invoke certain memories from the backyards of my mind. It’s nothing much but I decided to pen it down anyway.
About 10 years back, (the times when my mom contributed generously to the exponential increase in the road accidents in this city), dad was out of town for a few days giving stern instructions to mom not to even think about touching the ‘just repaired’ car. But as they say, ladies will always be ladies; mom hit the pedal of the car minutes after dad was gone. As usual, she came back with scratches and patches on the car door; but this time she came back with some cheap paint and a brush along with the ‘bruised’ car. With meticulous perfection as that of a consummate artist, she dips the brush in paint, she strokes the brush on the door, she slides the brush along the edges. And after a while she leaves the garage with a contented smile.
Dad comes back, glances at the car, raises his eyebrows, squints his eyes, looks at mom and says,
“There’s something bizarre about this door of the car.”
only to see mom’s faint smile (you didn’t have to go to Louvre museum to see the mysterious smile of Mona Lisa; you just had to look at mom’s face). The volume level of the TV reached its apogee as certain conversations transpired between mom and dad. Ya I know, conversation is a euphemism here.
About 10 years back, (the times when my mom contributed generously to the exponential increase in the road accidents in this city), dad was out of town for a few days giving stern instructions to mom not to even think about touching the ‘just repaired’ car. But as they say, ladies will always be ladies; mom hit the pedal of the car minutes after dad was gone. As usual, she came back with scratches and patches on the car door; but this time she came back with some cheap paint and a brush along with the ‘bruised’ car. With meticulous perfection as that of a consummate artist, she dips the brush in paint, she strokes the brush on the door, she slides the brush along the edges. And after a while she leaves the garage with a contented smile.
Dad comes back, glances at the car, raises his eyebrows, squints his eyes, looks at mom and says,
“There’s something bizarre about this door of the car.”
only to see mom’s faint smile (you didn’t have to go to Louvre museum to see the mysterious smile of Mona Lisa; you just had to look at mom’s face). The volume level of the TV reached its apogee as certain conversations transpired between mom and dad. Ya I know, conversation is a euphemism here.
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