Saturday, November 08, 2008

பர்கர் எனப்படும் "மைதா பஞ்சு உருண்டை"

"என்ன சாப்படலாம், டாக்டர் ?"
" இட்லி , கஞ்சி ஏதாது குடுங்கோ. பன் இல்லேன்னா பிரட் சாப்படலாம். "
படவா காச்சலா நானான்னு பாத்திருவோம் என்று மிகவும் பிற்பட்ட நகச் சுவையை வழங்குவார் டாக்டர்.
எனது காய்ச்சல் நாட்கள் பன்னோடு தொடங்கி புண்ணாய்ப் போகும்.
"பால் வேணுனா தொட்டுக்கோடா" என்று எதோ "கூகிள்" நிறுவனத்தின் ஐந்நூறு ஷேர்களை எனக்கு எழுதி வைத்தது போல் வெற்று பெருந்தன்மை பயில்வாள் அம்மா.
சிறு வயதில் "இண்டஸ்ட்ரி சுற்றுலா" என்ற பெயரில் "பன் பேக்டரி" கூட்டிச்சென்ற போதுகூட , சுவரில் சிறுநீர் கொண்டு வர்ணம் தீட்டும் கலையில்தான் கவனம் இருந்தது. "மடார்" என்று தலையில் அறைந்து மிஸ் "பன்" தயாரிக்கும் முறையை அறிய அறிவுறித்தியதில் இருந்தே தீர்மானம் செய்தது - ஒன்று- பெண் டீச்சர் நடமாடும் இடங்களில் நூதன சிறுநீர் வரை களை பயில்வதில்லை! இரண்டு - எனக்கும் பன்-னுக்கும் உறவு அற்றது.
பல வருடங்கள்s கழித்து துணிக்கடையில் மானைவிக்காக் தேவுடு காக்கும் போது எதிர்ப்படும் பால்ய நண்பனைக் கண்டவுடன் குசலம் மற்றும்n இயலாமை enபாராட்டிவிட்டு , "அட, இவன் ஆறாவது வகுப்பில் நோட்டைக் கிழித்த பாஸ்கர் ஆச்சே" என்று தோன்றுமே..அதே தருணம். இந்த சந்திப்பு எனக்கும் பன்-னுக்கும் ஆனது.
பரிணாம வளர்ச்சியில், பன் இன்று சற்றே உயர்வான ஒரு நிலையில் உள்ளது. இரண்டு பன்-களைஒன்றன் மேல் ஒன்றாக அடுக்கி , நடுவே உபத்திரவம் பிடித்த ஒரு காய்கறி உருளையாய் தட்டையாக அடித்து , திணித்து ஒரு மாபெரும் மைதா பஞ்சு உருளையை உருவாக்கி அதனை பர்கர் என்கிறார்கள்.

பன்றி இறைச்சியோ, வேஜிடபிலோ கொண்டு "பாட்டி" எனப்படும் நாடு உருளையை தயார் செய்கிறார்கள். பன்றி பாட்டி என்றால் ஹாம் பர்கர். வெஜிடேரியன் பாட்டி என்றால் வெஜி பர்கர். எனது ரெண்டு பாட்டியும் வெஜி என்பதாலும் நானும் வெஜி என்பதாலும் எனக்கு வெஜி பாரகர் தோது படும் என்று தோன்றுகிறது.


சாணி கரைத்து அடுப்பை அலம்பி விடுவதில்லை என்பதாலும், மடி பார்த்து சமைப்பதில்லை என்பதாலும் எனக்கு பர்கரில் உடன்பாடு இல்லை. தவிரவும் பன் மற்றும் பாட்டி விலகாமலிருக்க நுடுவே பல் குத்தும் கூர்மையான ஒரு குச்சியை வேறு சொருகி விடுகிறார்கள்.எங்கே முருகனுக்கு அலகு குத்திய மாதிரி ஆகிவிடுமோ என்ற பயத்திலேயே பர்கரைக் கண்டாலே உதறுகிறது.
இதற்க்கு மேலாக என்னதான் பரிணாம வளர்ச்சி , உலக மயமாக்கல் என்று நூல் விட்டாலும் ,பன்உக்கு நடுவில் அவியல் , முட்டைகோசு போட்டு உண்பது, ஏதோ புல் மீல்ஸை இலையோடு மடக்கி உண்பது போல ஒவ்வாத ஒரு செயலாகவே தோன்றுகிறது. இதற்கு மேல் பவுசாக வெங்காயம் பத்திரகாளி பல் போல வாய்க்கு வெளிய கொஞ்சமும் உள்ளே கொஞ்சமும் புட் போர்டு பார்ட்டிபோல தொங்காமலும் , முட்டைகோசு முழுமையும் உள்ள இருக்குமாறு, பார்த்துக்கொண்டும் , மோச ரெல்லா வெளியே பிதுங்கி வழியாமலும் மிக கவனமாக பசியாற வேண்டியுள்ளது
பனி கட்டிக்கு பிறந்த ஒருத்தி வேறு "ஆர் யு ஆல் செட்" என்று வேறு அறை வினாடிக்கு ஐம்பது முறை நலம் விசாரித்து போவாள். மோவாயை தொட்டு டேம்பெரச்சர் பார்காத குறை தான். ஆமாண்டி, ஆல் செட்டு தான். செட்டு தோசையும் வட கறியும் சாப்பிட வேண்டிய என்னை பன்னும், பொறையும் போட்டு கொன்னுட்டு இது வேறயா?

Saturday, November 01, 2008

Chee(se) Burger and Global Indian

While my wife is just breaking to me the news that I am not even eligible for the sad "maggi wrapped in day before yesterday's tortilla" and all I am going to get is 3 days old aalu- "nothing else to cook on an already tiring day" wrapped in tor-cold and cyrogenic-tilla..I decide to give you my .02 dollars on my dilemma with the western food - Burger
(I am being warned by a voice from the kitchen that, even if its for humor, I am not allowed to indulge in false propaganda. For the benefit of my own well being and to give due credit to my wife.. I DONT EAT STALE FOOD AND MY WIFE DOES COOK FRESH AND TASTY INSPITE OF THE GRUESOME WORK SCHEDULE.)
Back to the point..
I am pretty conservative with food. So much so that, brinjal with short skirts actually feel like profanity to me. Jokes not apart, if I eat dosai with ready-to-eat chutney, I consider it the most extravagant experiement I can put myself through.
Such being my tolerance to food in any form other than "fresh and Indian", I find it tough to go to office dinners or working lunches. I am told that it's important to eat "Classic Tuna Noodle Casserole", "Shrimp Fajita" with a glass of woodword reserve whiskey to be considered global indian.
(Among other things, if you bump into "Neel(akantam)", "Dave(Devanatha Koppuluri)" and they smile with lips tightly clasped expression similar to that which you would have during a bad case of constipation, you could mark them as seasoned global indians. Its also considered quintessential to ask "how you are doing today ah?" to claim your rightful place to this group.)
While I whole-heartedly hate this group, it never ceases to amaze me how deftly they eat the burgers and 6 ft subs as though their great grandfathers were 'Stephen Martin' and 'Morgan Glenwood" instead of "Sambasiva Moorthy" and "Muthukrishna Ganabaadigal". I never get it right when it comes to burgers.
Firstly I dont understand how a piece of bun (make it two) can be considered as a food for a healthy person. Would that not be what a doctor prescribes in South India when we have extreme chali, irumal and bad case of kaachhal? Well, whatever you may argue - Keeping a slice of onion,tomato and an oversized cabbage leaf in between does not make it even a step second cousin of masal dosai or idly manchurian.
I dont get one more aspect. Why would anyone keep an overcompressed mix of shallow fried rotten vegetable & garbanzo beans mash in between the buns and the vegetation while you could keep an aalu cutlet? To make matters worse and add salt to the already illogical wound, the height of the burger is 4x of the distance between your jaws in their widest open position. That just means, technically you cannot have a complete bite of all layers of the burger, unless your mouth is as big as shilpa shetty's.
If such an illogical and outrageously un-ergonomic food does not put you off, while sitting in the lunch table, the sharp and thin wooden stick (tooth pick) that is poked right into the center of the burger should. It infuriates me.
A newbee to burger, like me goes through untellable depression..
- I need to what pressure and when applied to which portions of the burger, will help me air lift it without squeezing the filling out and at the same time, preserve the integral structure of the burger
- I need to make sure while I apply the right pressure and airlift it, the middle stick should not fall down, as that small thing is the fulcrum that keeps this garbage in the shape it is
- I need to know when to open the mouth and upto what time it should be wide open. If I keep the mouth open and then bring the burger to it, I may risk showing a "Who the f.. made you the VP of the company" expression, un intentionally ..like when the mouth makes an "O".
- Synchronizing the opening of the mouth and the movement of the burger towards my mouth well enough, is just half the job well done. It opens up a whole new challenge of knowing when to retreat. One has to have a miraculous feel for texture and sharpness to assess which ingredients in the burger and currently in the mouth and which are out and which are in partially torn between the mouth and the burger. I must say there are more than one instances where I look like a goat trying to rip a banana leaf apart, with just the cabbage leaf sprouting out of my mouth while still the rest of the burger staying intact in my retrieved hands.
- With all the frustration, if you want to get done with it and decide to proceed for giant sized bites, its advised to remove the stick. Trust me, it has a sharp edge that can give your tongue a second degree haemorrhage.
With complex procedures and inherent risks of blood loss, flase expressions, certainty of humiliation all looming large, I decided to quit trying the burger in front of all perfect global indians.
Perhaps if I go back to the starting paragraph of the post, I see its not such a bad thing to have a slightly old tortilla and aloo curry.
Here I go...for a content dinner..

Sunday, October 12, 2008

எட்டணாவுக்கு பொறி கடலை

ஆயிரம் விண்ணப்பங்கள், அறுநூறு தொலைபேசி வேண்டுதல்களுக்குப் பிறகு என் மனைவிக்கு வேலை கிடைத்தது. பில் கேட்ஸ் ரிட்டயர் ஆன பிறகு அவரது நாற்காலியில் என் மனைவிக்கு இடம் என்றெல்லாம் பீத்த முடியாதெனினும் மாத செலவுக்கு ஆகும்.

என் அலுவலகமும் அவளது அலுவலகமும் கிட்டத்தட்ட திருநெல்வேலிக்கும் சந்திர மண்டலத்திற்கும் உள்ள தூரம். சிறு வயதில் கீ கொடுத்த் கார் ஒட்டியதோடு கும்பிடு போட்ட பரம்பரை என்கிற பின்புலம் வேறு உண்டு, மனைவிக்கு.

முப்பது மைல் தொலைவை நடந்தோ ஓடியோ கடக்கும் பீ.டிஉஷா இல்லை. கடலோரம் வாங்கின காற்று என பாடிக்கொண்டே சைக்கிளில் பயணிக்க தகுந்த சாலையும் இல்லை. "ஆசன வாயில்" எனப்படும் வார்த்தையை பிரயோகித்து வசவு பாடிச் செல்வர் கார் பயணிகள். நாம் சாவுக்ராக்கி என்பதாக பொருள் கொண்டால் மன உளைச்சல் குறையும்.
இதையெல்லாம் கருத்தில் கொண்டு "மாநகரப் பேருந்து" என்று பெருந்தன்மையுடன் அழைக்கப் படும் "நடமாடும் சவப் பெட்டியில்" பயணிப்பதே உசிதம் என்று கருதினோம். வடக்கே சூலம் என்றெல்லாம் பார்க்காமல் பேருந்து வெள்ளோட்டம் செய்ய சனிக் கிழமை அன்று கிளம்பினோம்.
"இப்படி படித்தால் நாடு ரோட்டில் தான் நிற்பாய் " என்ற சிறு வயது அருள் வாக்கிற்கு ஒப்ப, நானும் மனைவியும் நாடு ரோட்டில் தேவுடு காத்தோம். கருப்பு தெய்வம், ஆலிலைக் கண்ணன் போல ஒரு சாரதி ஓட்ட பேருந்து வந்து நின்றது.
"வா குழந்தை. நானிருக்க பயமேன்" என்பது போல கருப்பன் உள்ளழைத்தான். ஆஹா இது அல்லவோ பிறவிப் பயன் என்று நானும் மனைவியும் மகிழ்ந்தோம். மூன்று மைல் தொலைவில் உள்ள நிறுத்தத்தில் பேருந்து மாற்ற வேண்டும். "மூத்திர சந்தை" விடவும் அசுத்தமான நிறுத்தம் அது. பில்லி சூனியம் ஆடியது போல ஒரு நெல் குதிர் நடந்து வந்து "எப்போ பஸ் வரும்" என்பதை "பட்டா வவுந்திருவேன்" என்ற தொனியில் விசாரித்து விட்டு போனது. இந்த ஊர் ஜாம் பஜார் ஜக்கு என்று எனக்கு தோன்றியது. கால்களை கப்பை போல விரித்து, முட்டியை மடக்கி மடக்கி இல்லாத பாட்டுக்கு நடனம் ஆடியவாறே நெல் குதிர் பேருந்துக்கு காத்திருந்தது.
பிள்ளை பிடிப்பவன் மாதிரி இன்னொருவன் வேறு வெல்வெட் கலரில் பாண்டும் சட்டையும் போட்டுக் கொண்டு சுத்திக் கொண்டிருந்தான். எங்கள் ஊரில் "காத்து கருப்பு" அடித்தவன் இப்படித்தான் திரிவான். இப்படியான ரம்மியமான சூழலில்மனைவியுடன் பேச்சு குடுத்து வசவு பெற திராணி இல்லாததால் வானிலை ஆராய்ச்சியில் ஈடுபட்டேன்.
சரியாக ஐம்பது நிமிடத்திற்கு பிறகு அடுத்த பேருந்தும் வந்து சேர்ந்தது. நெல் குதிர் ஏனோ ஏறவில்லை. "இந்த வண்டி துபாய் போகுமா" என்று நக்கல் கேள்வி எதுவும் கேட்க வில்லை நான். இருந்தும் நான் ஏதோ அவன் குடும்பத்தைக் கொச்சைப் படுத்தியது போல கூப்பாடு போட்டான், பேருந்து ஓட்டுனன்.
ஒருவாராக அவனை கொஞ்சிவிட்டு " ரெண்டு டிக்கெட் குடும்" என்றேன்.
"நீ எந்த நோட்டு வேணா குடு. சில்லறை கிடையாது"
"நாறப் பயலே. எங்க ஊரு பக்கம் வாடி ஒரு நாள். புளியமரத்தில கட்டிப் போட்டு நொங்கப் பிரிக்கறேன்"
பாஷை புரியாததால் ஆமோதித்து தலை ஆட்டியது சிடுமூஞ்சி கருப்பு.
"ஸ்ஸ்ஸ்ஸ் .. இப்பவே கண்ணே கட்டுதே ..போரும். இதோட நிருத்திகிவோம்" என்றவாறே இருக்கைக்கு நகர்ந்தோம். ஒரு கம்பெனிக்கு நானும் வரேன் என்று ஒரு மாபெரும் உருண்டை மனிதன், ஒரு பருத்த பின்புறம் கொண்ட பெண்மணி, கஞ்சா குடுக்கி, பல் போன இளம் யுவதி, மார்பு சட்டை விலகுவதை சட்டை செய்யாத நாடு வயது பெண் என்று பலரும் எங்களுடன் பயணித்தனர்.
கூடவே சொறி, படை மற்றும் கக்குவான் இருமல் என ஆரம்ப சுகாதார நிலைய கிராக்கிகள் வேறு சேர்ந்துகொண்டன. கையை உயர்த்தி வியர்வை நாற்றம் பரப்பும் பாதகர்கள் மட்டும் தான் பாக்கி. இருந்திருந்தால் "திடியூர் இலயமுத்தூர்" பேருந்துக்கும் இதற்கும் பெரிதாக வித்தியாசம் இருந்திருக்காது.
முகத்தை "ழு" போல் நான் சுழிக்க, "கு" போல் மனைவி சுழிக்க, விதி, வாழ்க்கை மற்றும் ஜாதகங்களை நொந்தவாறு இறங்குமிடம் வந்து சேர்ந்தோம். பூக்காரி, பஜாரி, லாட்டரி சீட்டு "கே எஸ் எ சேகர்", ரூவாய்க்கு ஒரு பாக்கெட் முருகீய் என்று எந்த ஜமாவும் இல்லாத "தேமே" என்று இருக்கும் நடுக்க் காடு தன் நாங்கள் இறங்கும் இடம்.
எக்ஸ்குஸ் மீ.
ஹவ் டூ ஐ கோ டு ..... (மனைவியின் அலுவலக இடம்)
கீப் ஸ்ட்ரைட் . கோ பார் அபௌட் டூ மைல்ஸ் . டேக் த நார்த் டுவோர்ட்ஸ் லேக் ரோடு. யு வில் பி ரைட் தேர்.
மனைவி: என்ன சொல்றான்
நான்: ஆங். எட்டணாவுக்கு பொறி கடலை வாங்கி கொரிச்சுண்டே போ சொல்றான்.
மனைவி: போனா வந்திருமா?
நான்: இடம் வருமா தெரியாது. பொறி கடலை சாப்டா ..சு வரும்!
போங்கடா நீங்களும் ஒங்க பஸ் செர்வீசும். பொரிகடலையும் நடராஜவுமே பெட்டெர்.

Thursday, October 09, 2008

PEsTS

Tiger, Caeser, Pluto, Raja or even Ganguly. However you may name it. But a dog is a dog is a dirty dog.

You can have prime time news on orphaned dogs with eyes gleaming with artificial tears with soft mozzart music in the background or have economically dressed and abundantly blessed young women volunteering to stick an "I love dogs..so I married one" sticker in my car.
I will be unmoved...or so I thought till my life turned like a dog's tail.
1. It seems like important to me, to not become the "hot dog" for my neighbor's ferocious 5 ft dog, no matter how I like my "Pets are Pests" principle. My wife's cooking hasnt made me fat enough yet to donate a pound a day, I come in close encounters with the ferocious, soon-to-be-tortured-by-neighbor dog.
Keeping safety in mind I do "tsoo..tchoo...doggy kanna...mayraandi..come on" with that dog (Miranda is the name and I vent out with my own transliteration.)
2. Its good to know that almond cookies and strawberry cakes are not made only for human consumption. However cheap and inviting such food is, if its meant for dogs, the attempt should cease there and not at the billing counter. Its not very "feel good" to have the cashier warning you about the possible side effects of eating dog cookies
3. Its perhaps important to save the marriage. You dont want to suggest a dog's bedding set for your wife's relatives citing "comfort and coziness" however ignorant you were about the fact that it was meant for dogs.
4. The stern optimist I am, I also see this as a way to connect to wealthy retired couples in my neighborhood who in their will have written that all their worth, including the cadillac belongs to the bloody pug they own. I will make it follow wherever they go in a few years and become the gaurdian of that wealth. Looks like all it takes to be proven as a gentleman in this part of the world is to say "Such a cute cat. What's her blessed name?"
If you want to try my ways, subscribe to pedigree email newsletter which comes from tommythewonderdog@pedigree.com. I even suggest a book titled "Dog language for dummies". Yes, the same yellow book series which teaches "How to email" in 50 pages with unnecessary anecdotes.You can also order by mail, another book that will teach "Dog language to English" which comes with a free audio cassette for phonetics. If you think I am exaggerating, check this!

Monday, October 06, 2008

Sad Post

This is some ESP. Just in the last post, I gave an elaborate and shameless self promotion abouting my writing and blogging (which as per recent survey 1,34,5,6,745,784 other people do). I also know that blogging is as prevalent and abused as toilet napkins are.
I really feel sorry and ashamed to have written such a promotional scam about myself.
If all this will please the powers-that-be in the google owned blogspot.com, please return my template back!
Damn!
All I wanted to do was to make my template look as refreshing, crisp and vibrant like the author ...sorry...i wont indulge in s.s.p again.
(No relevant image or tag or the super smart "x of my fans were here" comments or "who visited searching for me in google" kind of jing bangs. Sorry, my template is as old as manisha koirala)
Give my template back!!!
(PS to P : I have written several profound and funny posts. Never got a comment from you. Gah...insulted that you commented on my template's demise)
PPS : In the world of instant coffee, instant karma, instant starch and instant suicide (J K Ritees), I should have believed in instant answer of prayers...My template is restored and now..wait in shock and awe as I unleash such torturous looking templates on you.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

An Interview

Its almost 3.5 years since I started writing. I have posted 78 posts so far and if I count those on draft, its inching towards 100..Looks like writing has become a part of what defines me..
It makes me wonder what drives me to write..Lets get to it through an interview..
How did it all start?
Quiet honestly, I had not marked a day and decided "from this day I will torture the fankind". It happened. I had a funny conversation with a collegue and thought its funny enough to share. So stumbled upon blogging..
So that's ashwinramasamy show?
No. It started as aiyer-arattai.blogspot.com. After a while it sounded very communalistic. (Did I just coin a new word?)
What topics inspire you to write?
At this point if your bladder is full, I suggest you take a leak and come back. I am going to give a rather lengthy and philosophical response.
When I decided to continue blogging, I took a vow not to bore my readers with excuricating details like "How many times I scratched my head today?" or "Why I changed to medimix and sticking with it even when I am out of the country for business trips?"
Like Adhavan Deekshanya (tamil writer) says "I write about those things I cannot pass by and ignore", I write about experiences that I relate with. At the end of my life, I am richer or otherwise depending on the diverse experiences I had gone through by then. This blog shall help me record life as it unfolds to me in various turns of my life.
I am curious, I liked to be awed, I like surprises. Therefore I blog, so that I can go to my past and wonder what a journey life had been.
Can I say then, I could expect a biography from you one day?
Most definitely. But for me to make sense to a critical mass of audience and to deserve their attention, I need to go through a lot of experiences that are unique, fascinating and inspiring. That explains why I din't mind proposing to 5 women in a span of 2 hours and chasing a business dream right after college till bankruptcy got the better of me.
Its a gift to be a story teller who has his own stories to tell.
It does seem like you've reserved the best stories for the biography though?
Absolutely. It's important that one who pays to read deserves the best story. That said, I consider that one could be very vulnerable in a shockingly open medium like blogs by what he/she shares. So I stick to the peripheries of my personal experiences and write them in a fashion that appeals (?!) to the reader
Whose writings inspire you?
Sujatha, S.Ramakrishnan, Ritesh Kini, Dubukku, Krish ashok, Shruthi, Vanna nilavan. They are either eminent writers or fellow bloggers or in between.
Sujatha for his versatility and reach of knowledge. S. Ramakrishnan for his ability slice and dice the nuances of experiences and feelings. Ritesh Kini for his interospective writings. Dubukku for his excellent ability to bring memories into words, Shruthi for being a bridge between the "growing old" me and "life of the youth", Vanna nilavan for his tamil command & his ability to bring the south tamilnadu life as it happens today. Krish ashok for his sheer creative genius and an alternate take on events around him..
In fact I am so inspired by some of them that I had taken liberty to follow their styles in some of my earlier posts like "The lock" and "Ayikudi Costume".
Well, since I have run out of questions, lets close with the ritual..
Do you have any message for your fans?
The underlying message of this post, as you would have figured out by now, is to shamelessly urge you to comment. Off late, due to my leanings towards writing in tamil and the general sad state of topics I had chosen to write, readership and commentatorship have gone down to readerpaperboat and commentatotpaperboat levels.
So please..ok..I will write a better one next time..

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Why banks fail in the US?

Foreword:
If you dont understand the following, here is the pictorial representation of the mess..
----
Everyone knows that the economy is down and US is not doing great. Scrap the surface and we dont really know what really the issue is. Some initiated may say "its the sub-prime crisis".
After much difficulty I think i understand it now..
Wading through the complex jargon and inherently complicated financial system, what I see is profoundly dumb decisions masked as "investment models" based on one fndamentally stupid premise
"Lend money to someone who cannot repay. Thats the way to make money for everyone"
A lends money to X and charges X a hefty interest (to cover the risk of default by X). B decides that there is a risk-reward premise. Assuming (Ass u me) the default is going to be less, they securitize these mortgages ( "If X pays, banks make money. More such X's pay bank pays more money. So lets issue a bond to an investor by name C, who will make money if X pays A. If X keeps aying, A's mortgage loans are performing well. More people would want to own securities whose underlying mortgages do well)
So mortgage based securities were sold and sought like hot cakes by C's. C's then issue what is known as "CDO (collateralized Debt obligations" - which means "someone took a loan. some one bet a gamble on it. I am gambling on the outcome of that gamble).
So these CDO's were sold to investors like you and me - who thought
X will pay A; A will make money; When A make money, B's bonds will make money because B's bonds perform well if A performs well; If B's do well, C's will do well, if C does well, I will make money.
Contrived? No. Complicated? Yes, because you making money depends on 3 other parties meeting their obligations of which the primary party (A) is a known defaulter (and hence called sub prime).
So what's the big deal if C loses money? C is not you and me as I earlier said. C is multi billion dollar investment banks which hire in IIM campuses.
So are the C's dumb? Yes and No. Yes because they are greedy beyond the limits for non-existent money and No because they insured their CDO's with AIG and other insurers who willfully agreed to insure against defaults of the instruments.
Will it affect India? Yes, because even our insurers, reinsure these insurances!
Will it affect a pensioner in India? Yes, if one of the insurance companies in India go belly up (depends on the exposure levels).
But India being an under insured nation, that front of damage is less. But hey, in many ways our lending institutions have bought US securities. What about them?
Watch sensex. You will know the answer!

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Rain ! Nothing else!

Its raining. Like the battalion that ties its movement to a rhythm, the rain here outside my window is following a painfully organized pattern. Like an auto-looped screensaver, its been raining in the same angle, speed and texture for two days now. Its an unfamiliar rain. One that does not bring the fragrance of the earth with it. This rain does not have colors. No muddy water that forms a river. No kids that make paper boats. No sounds of women running with buckets to collect water from the cantilever pipes. No sound of those plastics.
This rain comes with many riders. This is "Dont drench in me. Your insurance may not pay for your common cold" rain. This is "I am used to being a boring sky to earth passenger with predictability and I always follow the set path to the drain" rain. This is "I am wiped more by your car wipers than the hands of those gleeful kids that wipe me from their temples" rain.
There is no asbestos sheet here in the neighbors house that drums down the rain. This isnt the rain that invites itself into your house. This is the rain that is used to flow elegantly along the glass panes of a closed window. This rain does not even entice the frogs to search for the mates. This rain is not going to be discussed, as in this place no one gets drenched, nor do they have the need to save its water for cooking tomorrow.
This rain is not used to amuzement. It neither makes news nor is it considered an event. Its rain. its just that!

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

ஆயக்குடி காஸ்ட்யும்

மூன்று நாள் விடுமுறை வந்தால் எனக்கு ஒரே பதபதைப்பு தான் எப்போதும். ஆய்க்குடி போய்ட்டு வரலாமா என்று அப்பா மெதுவாக அம்மாவிடம் கேட்பார். kovilile
இந்தக் Kelvi "ஈராக்கில் பாம் போட்டு விடலாமா?" வகையைச் சார்ந்தது. பின்விளைவுகள் அதி பயங்கரமானது (எனக்கு மட்டும்).
மத்த ஸ்கூல் பசங்க எல்லாரும் உலகமயமாக்கல் கொள்கையின் படி பக்கத்து தேசங்களான கொச்சின், ஊட்டி, கொடைக்கானல் அல்லது குறைந்த பட்சம் மதுரையாவது போகையில் , நான் மட்டும் ஒவ்வொரு விடுமுறைக்கும் ஆயக்குடி கோவிலுக்கு பிக்னிக் போவதில் "புலி பசித்தாலும் புல்லைத் தின்னது" என்ற கோட்பாட்டின் ஊடாக எனக்கு ஏற்பு இல்லாமல் போனது. இருந்தாலும் என் இடுப்பு இன்ச் இருபத்தி நாலும் , மொத்த இடை நாற்பது கிலோவும் ஆகையால் "நண்டு நசுக்கு" என்று பரவலாய் அறியப்படும் வகையறாவில் தள்ளப்பட்டு ஒடுக்கபட்டேன்.
முந்தைய நாளே அப்பா "எங்க பேங்க்ல அக்கௌன்ட் வெச்சிருக்கான்.. மட்டோடர் வேன் சொல்லியாச்சு. நல்ல பையன். அனுப்பிருவான்" என்று "நேச நாடுகள் படை நமக்கு வான் வழித் தாக்குதல் பலம் தரும்" என்பது போல் மிடுக்காக அறிவிப்பார். ஆயக்குடி இயந்திரம் சுழல ஆரம்பிக்கும்.
விடுமுறை ஆகையால் "வேர்ல்ட் கப் குக்கிராம கிரிக்கெட்" வேறு நடக்கும். "என்னலே இப்பிடி கால வாரி விடுதே ? ஏற்கனவே நம்ம டீம் லே ஒம்போது பேர் தானே இருகோம். நீ தானே ஒப்பனிங் பத்ச்மேன். தம்பு, ஜெகன் எல்லாம் இப்போ ஒரே டீமாம் லே. நம்ம பயலுவோ பத்து பாலுக்கு தாக்குபிடிக்க மாட்டானுவ. எ என்னடா எ ..வாடா" என்று பால் சரவணா ராஜ் ஒப்பாரி போடுவான். நான் இல்லையென்றால் டீமும் இல்லை பேட்டும் இல்லை என்பது டீம் விதி. இதுக்கு மேல் ஒப்பேறாது என்னும் தருவாயில், "பேட்ட மட்டும் அழிக்கம்பி வழிய தூக்கிப் போடுலே ப்ளீஸ்" என்று சமரச உடன்படிக்கை தாக்கல் செய்வார்கள். நானும் தியாகி திக்ப்ரம்மதாஸ் ஆவேன்.
தூர்தர்ஷனில் வேறு டே அண்ட் நைட் மேட்ச் ஒளிபரப்புவார்கள். "ஓவர் டு டெல்லி" போடும்போது கரெக்டாக அப்பாவின் ஹீரோ ஹோண்டா வந்து சேரும். மூன்று பேர் பாமிலிக்கு எதுக்கு மட்டோடார் வேன் என்று (நியாயமான) கேள்வி எழலாம். அப்பா, அம்மா, சித்தப்பா, சித்தி, சிறிய நண்டு, பக்கத்தாத்து மூக்குபொடி மாமா, மூ மாமி , எதிராள்ஆத்து சேகர், தெக்லாத்து ராமா மாமி என்று துற கஜம் மற்றும் பதாதிகளோடு போனால் தான் ராமசாமி சாம்ராட் என்று அழைக்கப் படுவாய் என்று யாரோ தப்பாக ஏத்தி விட அப்பா படையோடு தான் பிக்னிக் கிளம்புவார்.
ஏம்மா ... நாம நாலு பேர் (பாட்டி சேத்து) மட்டும் ஒரு கார் வெச்சுண்டு போனா போராதா? இவாள்லாம் வேற எதுக்கு மா?
போடா. செட்டா போனா தான் நன்னா இருக்கும். ஒனக்கு ஒண்ணுமே பிடிக்காது. மணி ரெண்டாபோறது. வேனையும் காணும் ஒன்னும் காணும். நா கொஞ்ச நேரம் தூங்கப் போறேன். எழுப்புடா வண்டி வந்தா. இது அம்மா.
ரெட்டைக் கதவின் மேல் நுனியில் வெளவால் போல தொங்கிக் கொண்டு தோல் பட்டைக்கும் கன்னத்திற்கும் நடுவே போன் ரிசீவரை வைத்துக் கொண்டு அப்பா "மட்டோடார்" ஓனரிடம் "எப்போ வருவீங்க" என்பதை கோபத்திற்கும் கனிவிற்கும் நடிவிலான தொனியில் கேட்பார். மழை பெஞ்சாலும் பெய்யும் என்ற ரீதியில் மட்டோடாரும் "ஆங்... இப்ப வந்திருவான் சார் பையன். எப்பமே அனுப்பியாச்சே." என்று "வேன் நிலை" அறிக்கை வாசிப்பார். அதற்குள் வாசலில் வேன் வந்து நிற்கும்.
என்னப்பா லேட் ஆய்ருச்சா?
ஆமா சார். எப்பமே வந்திட்டேன். இங்கன அக்கிரகாரத்துக்கு வாரதுக்குள்ள போதும் போதும்னு ஆய்ட்டு. சவத்த ஒரு ரோடு போட மாட்டேன்காணுவ.
ஒரு அஞ்சு நிமிஷம் இருப்பா. கிளம்பிரலாம்.
டேய். இந்தா இந்த இலைய காலுக்கு அடில போடு. பாயச தூக்கு பத்திரம். அதையும் காலுக்கு அடியிலேயே வெய்யுங்கோ. டேய் கார்த்தி ...காஆர்த்த்தீஈ (சித்தப்பாவின் குரலில் ராட்சச தன்மை கூடும்). நண்டு வண்டு சேரும்.
ஏதோ விர்ஜின் காலாக்டிக் விமானத்தில் சந்திர மண்டலம் போகிற மாதிரி வேண்டுதல் பலமாக இருக்கும். வண்டிய பிள்ளையார் நிப்பாட்டு டே. வடல் போடணும். முப்பது கிலோ மீட்டர் தொலைவுக்கு பந்தோபச்த்து முச்தீப்புகளை நினைத்தால் இன்றும் பசுமையாக இருக்கிறது.
இதெல்லாம் நடக்க, நான் மட்டும் ரௌத்திரம் பழகிக் கொண்டிருப்பேன். கொண்டு வந்த ரெண்டு பாடாவதி காசெட்டும் போட டேப் இருக்காது, இல்லை வேலை செய்யாது. நம்ம வாழ்க்கை மட்டும் ஏன் இப்பிடி இருக்கு என்று வயசுக்கு மீறி பெரிதாய் வருத்தம் அடைவேன்.
சுரண்டையில் பன்னீர் , ஆலங்குளத்தில் இளநீர், சாம்பவர் வடகரையில் ச்ரமப் பரிகாரம் என்று ஊர்வலமாய் ஒரு வழியாக ஆய்குடி சென்றடைவோம் . இந்த இடத்தில் சோம்பல் முறிக்கவும்.
இப்பொழுது ஒரு அற்புதம் நிகழும். அது வரை பன்னீரும் சந்தன வாசமும் பெற்ற ஜி ஆர் டி கைப்பை , அக்குளுக்கு இடம் மாறும். விரிந்த நிலையில் முப்பத்தி ரெண்டு இன்சும் முப்பதாயிரம் முடியுமாக இருக்கும் மார்பில் அங்க வஸ்திரம் கட்டப் படும். சந்தனம், வியர்வை, விபூதி, பன்னீர் என்று கலவையாய் வாசனை கமழ அப்பா காட்சியருளுவார். இதாகப்பட்டது ஆய்குடி காஸ்ட்யும்.
சாமிக்கு "ஒய் விச்சயா இருக்கீரா" என்று சம்பிரதாயமாய் ஒரு கும்பிடு போட்டுவிட்டு டும்டேக்ஆவில் (கெட்ட வார்த்தை) எறும்பு ஏறாத படிக்கு ஜாக்கிரதையாய் மணி மண்டபத்தில் அமர்ந்து இட்டிலியும் சட்டினியும் சாப்பிட்டு விட்டு (வெக்கம் இல்லாத பாமிலி) Balasupramaiyarai தரிசிக்க முனைவோம்.
(ஆய்குடி தொடரும் )

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

செத்த பொழப்பு

இன்றும் அதுபோல் ஒரு நாள்!

பரதேசம் வந்தாகிவிட்டது. பளிங்கு காரும் பகட்டும் கிட்டவில்லை என்றாலும், ஊரிலிருப்போருக்கு நானும் என் புதிய விலாசமும் பற்றி பெருமூச்சுதான்.
எப் எம் ரேடியோவும் நட்புப் துணையும் இல்லாமல் பரதேசி போல பரங்கி ரேடியோ கேட்டுக்கொண்டு, கார் விடும் க்ரீச் ஒலியை நொந்துகொண்டு வேலைக்கு செல்கிறேன்.

இன்று என்ன வேலை முடிக்க வேண்டும் என்று சிந்தனை செய்யத் தேவை இருப்பதில்லை. அப்படி வெட்டி முறிக்கிற வேலை இல்லை என்றாலும் பொறுப்பு என்னவோ கண்ணை கட்டத் தான் செய்கிறது. பரங்கிக் கடன்காரன் வேறு சிங்க வேஷம் போட்டு என்னை கூண்டுக்குள் தள்ளி விட்டான்.

என்னடா சிங்கம் உருமவே இல்லை என்று கூண்டுக்கு வெளியே புகைச்சல். மகனே உன் சமத்து என்று பரங்கி பம்மாத்து பதில் வேறு கூறுகிறான்.
குமாஸ்தாவா , மாநேஜரா என்ற குழப்பத்திலேயே நாளும் பொழுதும் நிலை சேராத தேர் போல அல்லாடுகிறது அலுவல் வாழ்க்கை . நேர்முக நக்கல், மழுப்பலான இளக்காரம், மறைமுகமான அவதூறு என்று அலுவல் பரப்பில் அனல் சுடுகிறது.

பரங்கியை போட்டு தள்ளி விடலாம் என்றால் நாடில்லாத நாட்டில் இந்த வினை வேறயா என்று மனது நயமாய் எச்காரிகை போடுகிறது, இந்த எச்சரிக்கை மணி கிளம்பும்போது ஏனோ ஒலிக்கவில்லை .

இத்தனைக்கும் சம்பளம் அள்ளி குடுக்க வேண்டாம். கிள்ளி-யாவது குடுப்பார்கள் என்று பார்த்தால் கிள்ளினாலும் கல்லா குறைந்துவிடும் என்று, காசை கண்ணிலே காட்டுவதே இல்லை.

திண்ணையில் உட்காந்து தெக்கயும் மேக்கையும் பார்த்த இரவும் இல்லை. ஒண்டியாய் அலையுடன் பேசிய பெசன்ட்நகர் நடூ சாமமும் இல்லை. பிடித்ததைத் தொலைத்து விட்டு, திரவியம் தேடி உறக்கம் இல்லா உறக்கமும் இலக்கிலா பயணமுமாய் என்ன பொழைப்பு இது, செத்த பொழைப்பு!

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

Avani Avittam

Its avani avittam again. If you dont know what it is and want to get more confused than the soul that you already are..visit here and strictly come back to my blog. He is infectious. If you dont come back and refer my blog to 10 people, your head will burst into gobi manchurian shaped pieces.
In this holy day, we are supposed to do our duty of beginning our quest towards knowledge on Vedas. Instead, I remember, every year its turns out to be an interesting day to watch a congregation of funny and variously sized men doing variety of weird acts that can the best tickle the gods if not please.
Men who come for group avani avittam (no discounts are offered for groups. This is purely mass collection mela for the vadhyar) generally fall or trip into the following categories or can be generalized through these names:
First the vadhyars:
1. Mookozhugesa iyer: These are traditional vadhyars of the yore, who ruled the roost once upon a time, but wasted all their dhakshnai in vethali cheeval and NVS Pattanam podi. They have a perinnially flowing nose and a blood red salivation system, which generally keeps you at a safe 10 ft distance. These are the vadhyar emiritus of the system.
2. Swifteswara Shastrigal: These are essentially smart college drop outs of the 90's who decided to take up this profession, having tried their hand at credit card selling, LIC, Amway and medical representative jobs. They know people. They make connections. They can shorten or elaborate mantram based on your needs. They are flexible and are generally good in speaking a few words in english. They know politics and dalal street and actually have a say in both. They always are in a call with minister when you try to arrange for your punyajanam. They come in swift car, generally wear a pattu angosthram, vaira kadukan and motorazr cell phone or sometimes blackberry. These are the sastrigal every one waits f0r (including mookozhugesa iyer, even if grudgingly). Sorry voy..Ipo than SPB aathula panni vechutu varen..Late ayduthu...this would be their first conversation with you (Criterion: You = Qualified middle manager capable of "donating" 501 Rs for vadhyar welfare fund).
3. Kinetic Kittambi: Kinetic Kittambi is like a management trainee. He thinks he knows everything and some small time people like you and I would even call him home for amavasai dharpanam and ganapathi homam and we generally comment that he is better than 'Swifteswara Shastrigal" and swear not to go to him again. Remember its not due to age he is in the "vadhyar trainee" category. Its because he lacks focus, social contacts and prefers Sand Piper to Sandhya vandhanam at times. But he follows the route of Swifteswara shastrigal in general
The other commonality between them is that they both use Gillete Mach 3. SS uses it daily while KK uses Gillete vector mostly and Mach 3 only on amavasai, ganapathy homam days. They may even sport a "crop" with shastrathuku kudumi..
4. Allakkai Ambi:Allakkai is a tamil word with very rich meaning. Loosely translated it means "Uppukku chappani". These are the boys who come to a 39 year old bachelor and verupethifies "enna anna inum oththa piri poonal thaana...indhango...aduthavarsham maami vandhurva". He also is the unofficial water boy for the OC-la thanni pidika verum panchapathrathoda vara gang.
Now the poonal maathikra men:
Nandu Nachiketh iyer: Generally this is a less than 5 year old kid and brought to the avani avittam group mela by the father, only to show that "I had this much libido few years ago". The kid generally embarasses his dad by asking questions like "Daddy, why are you not wearing this thread at home". He also makes the "allakkai" run for his cover by shakespearing
" I want this thread
Around my head
Like my Father
Who never bothers
To keep this on
Till tomorrow's dawn"
Thalai avani avittam tarun: This is generally a 10-15 year old boy who knows xbox and wii better than gayathri jebam. Has prematurely sprout meesai and oozes the air of "I am born with reebok and jockey underwear". Generally dis interested in the proceedings and hush-hushes a sentence or two to his equally dis-interested dad. Generally an unwilling party to "adhuthathu thali deepavali than ..illayada ..hehehe" joke from mookozhugesa iyer.
College going confused manikandan: He normally comes with his father who does not believe in trimming hair in ear lobes or nose. The father and manikandan play dumb charades before deciding the place to sit. They look at each other with "unnalaam pethala ile kuzhikullendu thondi eduthala" expression all through. Confused manikandan carries two PP (Pancha Pathrams). One for himself and one for his father. Father is busy holding his veshti and mani wears a belt.
BPO Padmaganesh: Same as confused manikandan, but wears a fastrack watch. Comes in his pulsar. Smells of AXE deo and generates more rest from the accompanying father (Read, father fetches water for him in his PP)
Execi Vicky: He wears pattu mayilkann veshti and a loose bracelet (yannai mudi). Sports a french beard and probes you with a look which means "I have a smaller ponch than you do and I go to FitnessOne. See my biceps. I can woo your sister tomorrow, if you dont concede defeat in our virtual Mr.Universaiyer potti". He comes with his friends and does not prefer car pooling. He does understand the difference between his maruti alto and bentley, but refuses to acknowledge that the latter is superior to his alto.
Vayasaana Venkatesan: He knows both mookozhugesa iyer (dad's connection) and Swifeswara shastrigal (own connection). He is either an AGM in TVS iyengar or a senior project manager in Infosys. He carries a blackberry (Infosys) or walki talkie (TVS) and gets into conf call in mute mode during the avani avittam (with US team (Infy) or Sundaram Fasteners (TVS).
Chidumoonji Chidambara iyer: Father of confused manikandan or execi vicky. You remember the ear lobes & nose part. Believes that God grace on that day is directly proportional to the amount of vibudhi pattai ob his torso and temple. Does not chant the mantrams but just lip syncs. SS does not like him because CC does not pay for the inflation related increase in his "dakshanai".
Scrolling up, I think I spend most of my time observing these creations than actually beginning the year's veda learning season, which is what avani avittam signifies..may be i should say
"adhyAya-upakarama-akarana-prAyaScittArtham" (Forgive me for not doing upakarma)!!
New amendment - A comment here relieves you of 10 chants of gayathri in the 1008 marathon. You might want to play in.

Saturday, August 02, 2008

I am awful

When you are in sales and that too with fellow men in the street, you should know how to walk the walk (I know this is the best damp squib of an introduction to a blog post and can be beaten only by Miss Universe titleholders' final round answers)
The point is, you should be able to and willing to do what fellow sales men are good at:
1. Lying (Not laying) - I do that well! (I show video conferences with my european collegues and insist my clients to believe that they are talking to Henry Ford's aavi in the other end. I even make them believe its possible to make a fuel efficient vehicle with an inverted "V" engine. Place it on the torso and its nataraja service..)
2. I can act busy - I can stare at an excel sheet for hours together with arbitrarily placed numbers and make it look like I am solving the mystery of black holes in the universe. I can postpone lunch and enter the cafeteria when others leave.
3. I can cut-replace "We"/"He" with "I" - I will listen to my boss and his boss and their ideas and disseminate it to collegues with a prefix "I Think"...and sound like "Jack Welch" in the making
But things that I dont get yet are Golf, Drinks and food.
There are a few embarassing moments I may have to go through very soon..
Will my carrom board skills be useful in golf? Are the rules same or slightly different?
Can I wear canvas shoes to a golf course?
Should I buy golf kuchi (golf club) or will they give.
Who is the winner? One who hits the ball to a sixer or one who pockets the coin..ahh..ball ?
----
When others order Hugarden and other such drinks, should I risk asking for pineapple juice? Or when they raise a toast, should I toast with my glass of water?
Should I eat salads that are generally for cows back at my village?
Is it okay to order french onion soup after asking if they use beef stock or should I skip soups?
If its main course, should I always go for a Polish or french sounding dish with obscene amount of cheese or can I ask for pizza with no mozzerella cheese?

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Adakku Moocha-va Ammuku-number a

My Opees is in a sort of an IT/Commercial park. Ulaga cakoos varalatril mudhdhdhal murayagha..the management has come up with an ingenious idea..to install a security system for our toilet!!!
You punch in a secret code and the door opens for you to pee, whenever you want, however you want and how much ever you want!
However crooked and perverted my mind is, I am still unable to decipher the code..er..the reasoning behind this 'break'through idea!
My guesses -
  1. Management has an "Appa Rao" or "Venkatesa Prasad" who has seen Dasavatharam recently. Toilets are the best source of NaCl (Ask your chemistry professor how to extract NaCl from Uric acid) and it is important to secure any source of NaCl. Like Green buildings, may be the idea here is to launch the world's first "Bio weapon proof building"..Ena ezhavo!
  2. If someone with an urge to pee can wait, punch a code and then get it, it probably means he/she is patient and will not leave the sink soiled. The impatient can odhungify under a tree or transformer!
  3. Some pharma company is in a major conspiracy to sell water as memory plus tonic. More you want to pee, lesser you forget the code to the toilet door. So people remember the best when their bladder is full. So lets make people's bladder full by making them drink water. Lets brand it memory plus tonic and have viswanathan anand or "yar manasila yaru" mama as the brand ambassador. You get their point?
  4. Probably without our consent those of us who know the code are now a part of a secret society called "Kutha veikra klan" (like Ku Klux Klan)

Enavo...I havent seen a more Kenai-ish policy than asking people to remember a code to be eligible to pee..Mathavaalam ena bed pan-oda varanuma office-ku? What if a customer (OMG...my customer's CIO is coming to office this month end! Should I whisper "%^$#" in his ears and help him pee, at the same time preseving the integrity of the code?).

The absent minded principal (nangalam professor range-ku erangi varanum nu laa edhirpakkapdadhu) I am, I would never remember the code. In fact the Janitor room next to this shit hole, came to my rescue this week.

I forgot the code and in alpaasai entered my HDFC pin number in the door security system. Elam ore karumam thane nu..Shit dint work..

Janitor woman came out and said "Nay Nay Nay Nay"..I drew a blank look being unable to make out if it was "Naaye Naaye Naaye Naaye...code therilena onaku laam edhukuda dumdekkaai (childhood term for alpa sankyai apparatus a.k.a kunjaan) or she meant "Nay Nay you are not destined to pee today. You're an outcast". Or did she mean " Code theriyadha onaku, onnuku edhuku?:. I then realized she actually told me the code "Nine Nine Nine Nine". How timely? What a help? By then my eyes turned moist! (Backlash from the bladder to the eyes). Thank You Ma'am for all you just did...you dont know how 'relieved I am'!

I dont understand the side effects of this new system. I know some things will never be the same

  • I relate better with my collegues and fellow business-center mates. The brethern that shares the code to relief and instant gratification.
  • The code makes me feel secure..Even if there is bio war or alien invasion (that which happens only in the US) the code will protect me from the rest of the world (though only when I am there to Pee)
  • If I pee, it means I have remembered something complicated. It proves to me that I can remember things, many times a day and at challenging situations and react to the situations in lightning fast manner (I can become a basket ball team coach)
  • I belong to a sophisticated generation created by NASA called Generation-P, which pees in a conditioned fashion only in response to a code. So we are ready to be the first batch of permanent settlers in moon

For the rest of the mortal world to which peeing is literally an "open and shut" case, here we come - the bladder bonds of the future - code 9999.

Saturday, July 05, 2008

Have a good one!

I am not a very courteous guy by nature. Let me qualify it better for the sake of first time visitors to my blog.
I am not an a**. If we both meet at a perpendicular corner and crash head on I would of course say "Sorry" . I might still hurl an abuse mentally "Kannu ina pindaniya vechurka..tharudhalai". So I do maintain the Indian levels of courtesy. But here I am surrounded by people who ooze out courtesy like running nose. How much ever you try, involuntarily the presence is felt! Sample these: "Have a good one man" -- Imagine someone wishing this when I am about to go to the loo!! The point is, in my office, the way to the one bathroom place and way out are same.
So people presume that I am getting out of office and show immense courtesy to an unknown collegue by wishing me to have a good one!! I am going to teach these guys to say "Have a good on(e)ukku!" "Have a blessed weekend" -- I may need all these blessings with my new car and pretty hopeless driving skills for the first world. But come on. If I say thanks to your offer for "blessed weekend", does it not mean that I should deserve it and go on a trance the whole weekend? Dont shower religiously threatening courtesies when I cant take it.
I thought, may be its the way one should be and asked my collegue "How is it going?" (Not when he was on his way to the loo or back from the loo) He said "Great. So great that if its any better, it would be illegal" I hope he does not come in prime time TV inside a box with an unneccessarily oratorial reporter describing him as "Shocking acts of child abuse by John who sits next to Ashwin in his office"
With such unfathomable ludicurous courtesy calls and equally bizzare responses to courtesies, I decided to show the "constipated smile" when shown courtesy or when the person in the shopping mall aisle expects it from me. Better look constipated than corny!
You have a good one mate!

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Some questions to Kamal - Dasavatharam

Kamal saar....some questions:

  1. Govind (Scientist) invents bio-weapon. He then sees his lab monkey dying a gory death consuming. He then lectures that we should destroy the weapon. Lives are important. Why dint this wisdom dawn before spnding millions of tax payers money (I pay 35% tax with no economic stimulus returns you see)? May be Govind thought the weapon would be let into paramakudi wells and turn them into instant gobar gas plants to fuel our stoves for suttaplaam and vetha kozhambu
  2. Why did Mallika Sherwat wear a swinsuit in that dance and have a net in the strategic place? Saddists!
  3. Why dint Fletcher get a translator better than mallika, for tamizh? There was MS Bhaskar anyway. Or was she sent here because Delta airlines gave a buy one get one free offer, for tickets?
  4. Has kamal heard of liposuction? If he does not believe in it, I suggest he develops a virus that can remove his excess luggage in his cheeks and thoppai. He looks like ponni raw rice one quintal bag, three of them stacked one above other.
  5. How old is old? Paati kamal is 90 + years made evident by her voice. But she (especially her hands) make me feel she was an undiscovered evolution of Dinosaurs. She even had dry scales in her hand.
  6. Doctor says "Avtar you are alright. Its a medical miracle. The bullet neatly removed your cancer cells. Now its just a formality of Chemotherapy". Sorry, this is not even worth ridiculing. Talk about a lecture from Kamal on saving lives and the doctor pokes needle into all cancer survivors, ridiculing their worst phase of fight against cancer.
  7. How much did Kamal spend for make up? I would spent just 10 kgs of kuttuvilaku brand aatta. The effect would have been better. The left out maavu could have been used to kill the virus. If tata salt can ruin a million dollar virus, why cant chappati maavu do that?
  8. Two FBI agents came to India to chase Fletcher and the bio-weapon. May be they dint finish the ilaneer till the end?
  9. Why did Jayalalitha act in the movie? Was it because the movie dint have a weighttu character?
  10. Karunanidhi and Bush share the dias in Chennai with Kamal. Kamal is a saddist. If not his gibberish is enough, he dons the role of bush, who is the king of gibberish
  11. Pchh...no more questions...saving one...why the hell did an animated butterfly come on screen. Was it a screensaver to tell, the story is inactive for long or was it to say this movie and the thought behind it can be explained only by "chaos theroy"?

Ada pongappa!

Dasavatharam - Kamal in a Vijayakanth Starrer

I was never comfortable about Indian movies that took gimmicks as the USP. They can never make them to perfection like hollywood, nor can they leave out song-dance-fight-sentiment sequences.
I was hoping Kamal would never do such a film loaded with irritating gimmicks stretching his physical endurance to the limit. He has done that, in good style and very little substance.
The movie starts with 17th century Shivite-Vaishnavite ideological tussle with Kamal as the Vaishnavite protogonist who would kill himself than acknowledge Shiva as the supreme God. He gets crucified in the style of Jesus (save us) and gets sunk into the ocean along with the statue of Narayana. What makes me wonder is why this episode is needed? Is it all to say that Lord Narayana created tsunami 3 centuries later to save us from biowar? Or is it to show that Kamal has a muscular physique and he has a fetish to flex his biceps even as he lifts his hands to reach out to god?
Besides all these, the song sequence that lead to the immersion of the statue and the way the ocean has been created in graphics, does make us sit up and expect stunning visuals all through the movie. You will not be disappointed on this account (saving the last tsunami scenes).
The movie cuts forward to the present day USA where Govind (Kamal) works as a bio-scientist creating biological weapons. You may please avoid asking questions like "Why is Govind working as a bio-weapon scientist, when he does not believe in killing lives?". No stakeholder of the movie seems to care. The movie has a USA portion, there is Mallika sherawat, Kamal, car chases etc. Who has time to think about stichting holes in the story line?
So Govind develops this weapon and the owner of this venture funded lab decides to trade it with ..er...dont know who it is. Govind promptly removes the weapon (an NVS pattanam mooku podi sized dabba, which carries a deadly virus) to a safe (or thats what he thinks) place.
The next half hour of the movie is about swanky cars, fast chases, helicopter combing and some stylish encounters typical to hollywood. In the process we get introduced to the conman "Fletcher" (Kamal again) who brings loads of gore within minutes of settling down in the screen. (You are better off bending down to pick up your pop corn than witnessing the jigsaw style killing of the japanese wife of Govind's friend).
While you still wonder why an American could not have been hired for this role, the movie shifts base to India, where the bioweapon has been transported to. (accidentally in a cargo flight). Much to our relief, Govind encounters a gult supercop (Balram Naidu) who mistakes him for a terrorist that came with the cargo flight. This gult role a class act of Kamal. Strengthened with Crazy Mohan dialogues, the scenes involving Balram, Fletcher (who has followed Govind to india) and Govind set the floor on a laughter spiral. Kamal's role as a Andal's (asin) paati is another highlight of the movie. Kamal pulls off the 90 year old's voice modulation and amazingly, even the withered physique...
The bioweapon which gets to India as a cargo delivery, gets delivered to Andal's paati in Chidambaram. The weapon, through a sequence of rip roaring comic events get into the Narayana idol which is on a procession in the street. The rest of the movie is all about where the weapon travels and how the entire cast camps at Chidambaram to get the weapon. Its hard to reason out why Avtar singh (Kamal again) decides to come to Chidambaram for his live concert. He probably knows a thing or two about crowding metros and second rung cities being the growth drivers? Whatever! Jeyapradha is his wife (Kamal will never get enough of her I guess).
We also dont understand why the 7 ft muslim and his family (nagesh, KR Vijaya) were needed there, nor do we understand what Kamal tries to convey through Santhanam-Dalit leader Vincent (Kamal again) stand off. The kanyakumari-Trivandrum fishermen dialect could not have been delivered better. Vincent's body language, dialogue delivery and make up are sure case studies in their respective areas.
After a protracted chase laced with some amazing stunts and entertaining crazy mohan-esque climax chases, Govind, Fletcher,Balram naidu and the Japanese Kung Fu brother of the slain japanese girl all meet up in the skating rink in besant nagar beach (all trying to take possession of the weapon).
At this point, since we were all given liberal dosage of intolerably foolish and sub-standard logic and turn of events, we dint bother to check if indeed "Sodium Chloride" (Salt) is the solution to de-activate bio-weapon. We give in to believe that it is the case. Thats the only way we can end bio-war and the war on human kind (Dasavatharam-the movie).
What 10 avatars of Kamal (including that of Bush) cannot achieve, Lord Narayana achieves by creating Tsunami and heaps millions of gallons of NaCl (kadal thanni ba!) on the bio weapon.
When we think the movie should have ended, Govind goes into the lecture of atheism and picks a caricatured (courtesy: sriram, for this thought) iyengar girl's unrefined ways of proving God's existence, to prove his point that God indeed does not exist or even if he does, he is not better than bio-terrorists.
Firstly, Kamal should understand he is not a thought leader in the areas of existence or lack of god.
Secondly, even if he does believe he is, we are not there to pay for his movies to get his sermons..We are there to watch a movie. Period
Thirdly, when choosing some contrived stories with choppy execution (which he admits by bringing chaos theory unnecassarily to support to disjoint script) he should have spent less effort and donned just one role (that of the scientist) and should have left the rest of the roles for actors who have their real skins and acting flavors than pasting tons of plaster of paris and looking like disfigured ghost for most parts.
Better it would have been if Kamal had decided to direct the movie and let Vijaykanth act as the scientist. We would not have had much expectation and we would even have not minded if the cargo plane landed in Afganisthan instead of Chennai. Vijaykanth has made these things possible and believable in all his blockbusters.
No! As an afterthought, Vijaykanth as an old paati would have been the worst thing, even more dangerous than the bio weapon itself!
Narayana!

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Vadai, Avial, Vazhakkai and a sumptuous serving of memories

My wife made 'vadai' today!
Its a big deal in a Tamil Brahmin's family, if you make vadai and it does not taste like adai. With liberal dose of vengayam and paruppu, it was definitely relish-worthy. I climbed on it and flew to those days when festivals in our house in munneerpallam revolved around 'vadai'.
Be it pillayar chaturthi or devasam, vadai is always an integral part of our full course lunch. Paatiku moonu manike muzhippu vandhirum. By 3 30 the entire thinnai, azhi and vasal will be filled with maakkolam (tradtional indian rangoli art made with liquid rice flour). Amma will take over from here and the rigor will begin with 'vadaikkaraikadhu'. For a family of 10 people mixie was never really an option. So she always resorted to 'aatukkal'.
Ambi is an integral part of every festival day kitchen. Ambi will always tak the mantle at the aatukkal. Based on his mood and hurry to get back to home, he may invariably pour more water. I still can hear my mom yelling "Kadangaran...thanniya vaari vitrukan paaru...mudiyadhu na naane panirpen'. I wont forget Ambi for life. My playmate, my chauffer, my entertainer and our servant who is actually an extended family member who is better than most biological relatives of mine. God bless him with good death and relief from his painful last days...
Coming back..so it all starts with vadaiku araikardhu and then vadai idradhu which is again a complicated art of laying the vadai in shape on a plastic sheet to give it the shape. In our iyer aam, we never rally figured this out. Vadai always was a skinny cousin to ones you get in hotels..
Nalla naal na enga athla moor kozhambu, vazhakkai podimas, avial, pachidi, kichidi ilama sapadu nadakadhu. However watery the moor kozhambu may turn out to be, thanks to joint family, it was still a must.
Even as a kid I figured out that the vadai made in our houses were not authentic as 'non -achaaram' vadai which had crisp periphery and roasted onions.
But my cousins and elders alike, liked the vadai and they circle around amma keeping an update of various stages...arachacha? thatiyacha? ethna yedu poirukku? nanna vandhirka?
Perimma oru vullal potukalama...
Moochu kaatama eduthindu kollaila poi sapdungo...paatiku therinja kathuva...
After finishing all houses, vadhyar will come to our house at 11 Am. Ambi (this is my dad) enga? ipothan vaaykaluku porikar appa? 5 nimishathla vanduruvar?
I remember appa with hair spread in all directions, smell of hamam, poverty of his mini-skirtish towel and the soap boxed inside his mug and the washed underwear and baniyan...
Dei raju engada ponan...koopdu avana...
Kannaaa...
An adhoc mental attendance of chitappas and athais will run through everyone's mind and they send me out to fetch them all for the boojai...
I remember appa turning to me and nodding when he says "vidhya balam..thathaiva...deiva balam..thataiva.." just to make sure I understand that I study well and he is doing his due by putting a recommendation to God.
Reflecting back, I did study well, earn well too. But life isnt that charming as it is in munneerpallam.
So ipdiya pannandu mani aaydum...
Samiku neivedhyam panniacha?
Perimma vadai eduthukalama?
Edukalaaam eduthkalam..with a tired sounding drawl from my amma, to the questions asked by Sriram and Karthick (cousins)..
Appa, Chitappa, Sriram, Karthik plunder the vadai..2 in hands, 3 already gone in...
At 1 amma would go "Dei appa engada...ippideee ovoru aathuka poi okaandunda ena panradhu...naangalam kaaalelendhu aduklaylaye iruka mudiyama...nerathuku sapta thane naangalum konjam kan asara mudiyum? Poi appa enga nu paaruda?"
In that summer veyyil, reluctant to step out, I would ask "Engamma popi pakardhu"
"Kazhuthai ketta kuttichevar. Raman aathla than irupar...ilena thozhu la irupar"
By the time I come back with him, Ponnamma (our servant maid) would have brought her trademark crispy onion vadai from her house. If you think good food is heaven, that vadai is right at the alter in the heaven.
Right in the center of pichumani iyer's rezhi, which hosted the likes of kanchi kamakoti century back, we would relish non-aachaaram (who cares) vadai in dozens...
By this time amma and chithi would have laid the vazhai elai..Amma kizhinjurku...kizhinja vera elai potukoyenda...
Elaya maati podu...ethana tharava solradhu...nuni valadhu pakkam...
vazhakka vendam...avail vandam...
pottu sapdra elam...chumma adhu vendam idhu vendam nu...this is appa..
vadaiave saptundrundha poruma... nalla sapda vendama (chitappa)...
Ipdiya we celebrate a festival...with lots of expectations, toil, competition for good food, advice, prayers and abundance of life...
Like they say life comes a full circle...dishing out its crispy events, spicy encounters, hurtingly hot experiences, melting moments...like the vadai ponnamma makes...

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Aatha Naa Pass Ayten!!

Yadhatya kachav rudrahan...yeah ok...this right turn right?

udaha abhisuryaha...there you go...straight ahead...ok..yeah...

I was shifting between the slokam amma told me to say and responding to Al, the driving test administrator.

I remember, in India drivng tests are simple. A 40 year old man with a pad of papers will seat himself on the sidewalk of kottivakkam beach in the shades provided by the ponches of driving school agents and curious onlookers. Unless you are totally unprepared and mistake the tire for the driver's steering there is no way you fail those tests.

Here in the west, you have two levels of driving test. First is a set of 50 questions. 80% is pass mark and 30 mins is the duration. Frankly I always believed that safe driving on the road is a collective responsibility. I will drive recklessly and the other drivers should use their brakes when I need them to.

For me, to curb my instincts and write "The right of way is for an oncoming vehicle and I should wait for it to go before I turn" is like cowardly admitting "My wife has the last word in any argument and every next response is the start for a fresh one where I will lose".

But my instincts did rule at times and I made 40/50 exactly, which means I almost failed but for the karma I have done in my previous years. (This does not include the money you owe me. Send it by air mail.)

Rahu kalam, kuligai paakama, I enrolled myself for a driving class. That was a nice move but just that Mr.Sargent who was the instructor never changed his dresses in those 3 days I met him.His car was dirty, he was sweaty and he did tell about his sun glasses quite a few times that, I started having dreams in night with all the sunglasses trying to mug me at the burger king corner.

I realized he spoke the same things in same excruciatingly boring manner to every driving student. I stopped doing courtesy nods and realized that he never needed them in the first place. He talked and soon will die of compulsive talking. I dare St.Peter ask him anything at the gates of heaven or hell, lest he starts again about his sunglasses. Enough said.

The point about the second test is simple. You should parallel park your car without hitting the cones and then drive on all possible streets doing all correct things at right time and stay calm. And yeah, you should be alert, fake the care you normally dont have, if possible smile and give an orgy to the drivers in other cars. You should break like you are picking a flower from under a tree and yet the car should stop like a man who gives up to his wife. Smooth and submissive.

While you do all these, you should understand the nasal drawl they call as English here and show courteous smile and answers to the tet administrator as though he is your wife's father.

Even after you do all these needfuls there are some physical limitations you cannot correct. Blame your parents if you are under 5' 5''. These seats wont lean that forward, nor do their mirrors swivel that wide for an asian dwarf like you and I. So you start relying on the very instincts we use in India while driving and hoping that no American car driver in that vicinity had a fight with his wife or his/her pet has not hurt its mouth eating the extra large burgers.

I did all of these preparations first time and forgot to concentrate on the road. Bad take off. The admin yelled at me. The fifth minute I flouted a rule of giving "right of way" to an oncoming joker. I failed. I tried to say sorry that I dint mean really and talk my way through continuing the test. he dint toe that line. Too bad.

Without going too much into the money game involved, I must say the driving trainer and the admin made a lot of money on me. They now add to the list - a long one - Employers, Credit card companies, white collar theives who have ripped me...

So coming back to the first line of the post, I relied on God, Mom's advice and wishes from my wife to make it this time. Everything went perfect. Parallel parking happened so well that the admin (new one today) would give me a hug and cry like he has seen God. It dint happen. He was rather unfriendly or he has a tumor in his business end which needs immediate operation.

I did make a couple of mistakes, got yelled at. I gave back "beauty paegent" smiles and fake apologies. It included a meek smile when the admin asked "Go on dude...what...are you waiting for easter?". Finally I parked at the finish line and he congratulated me for job done (well is missing there, you see).

I am a qualified driver now, which means, the next time you expect me to yield you the way, I will show my middle finger.

Phir bhi dil hai hindustani!

Friday, April 18, 2008

Hey Howaayyyah!!!

The duties first!
1. Apologies and more of those to whom I dint say Bye! before I left Chennai!
2. Apologies for those unfinished/unattended stuff you may have because I left!
Now to the actual post. It gives me great pleasure (sorry for the toastmaster like speech) to write a post after a long time and this relocation is good, in that it made me come back to blogs!
Relocation is a very intense thing -- Physically, emotionally and urnially! Especially if you are on a 36 hours journey to your new location. Its tough. Come on, very tough I say. Especially when you sit through it. The back aches. The knee swells. The bladder balloons! And the tummy pinches. Beyond physical, emotional and urinal pain, its also a pinch on the tummy and a bite into my sleep.
The misery starts much before, actually! We start buying "Idhayam nallennai" sachets instead of 1 liter bottles, thinking that you are going to relocate anyway. The sachet falls over the night on the floor without fail. Relocation is irritating at least as much as cleaning that spilt oil. I curse it and go ahead with the reduced and limited offer life. The life that is between the start and end of a relocation cycle.
I stopped shouting at the servant maid for not cleaning the toilets. We are relocating anyway. We started worrying about the washed clothes. Will it come back after ironing before the day we leave. We have to pack them!
How many bags? Hard or soft suitcases? Should I take the Bangkok buddha we bought during our honeymoon trip? Should I pour the aftershave all over my face one last time, so that I will not have to face the dilemma of whether or not to carry a bottle with 1.5 teaspoons of aftershave?
Relocation is predominantly one big decision accompanied by so many meaningless and pointless decisions that have to be taken. My mom will want to know if I need the socks with one hole in each leg or will I buy a new one in the new location paying 15 times the Indian currency value for it. Its a decision to make. I made. I made such 1000 decisions that took 1 minute each.Thats almost 15 hours of time wasted on nothing, while I dint get to spend those 15 minutes, holding my mom's hands or hugging a friend or talking to the soul of the city which inherited me!
Like I said, relocation is a big decision. One that is like opening a flood gate and standing on the watershed side of it. Things maroon you till you get a log that "may" take you to some shore, if not sound and safe!
Moving from base is moving away from your nearest DVD parlor that lets you hold the DVDs for more than 5 days. Its leaving your father and mother childless for years. Its depriving the hotel waiter from good conversations he had with you.You no longer read ananda vikatan, nor do you have an opinion about Karnataka-Tamilnadu water dispute. You dont get the same haricut. You dont get a simple milk pouch. You are out. Out of your ecosystem.Your family. Your world that you care for, like and that cares for you! You are non-existant anymore.
Relocation is like rewinding the life of a toddler, robbing all the fun and gay and taking it to the womb and aborting it. Its abrupt, shocking and sudden.
But its not without fun, like its the case in any journey.
Brussels, it is. Airport Lounge.
'Neenga enga porel'
'New Jersey. Payyan anga irkan. Maatu ponnum velai pakra anga'
'Neenga madrasa?'
'Ilai naa madurai. I am a doctor there. My wife is also a doctor'
'Ena practice panrel'
'Skin and STD'
'STDnna?'
"Sexually transmitted disease nu soluvalonno,...adhan'
'oh..AIDS KEIDS laam unnda?'
'Aama, elam jothi le kalandurum'
Brussels doesnt understand this conversation nor does it care. But for me, this conversation between two sixty year old mama and mami reminded me of home.The home where people are of same color as I am. The home where an airport service desk employee cannot discriminate me by my color and accent and not respond to my question. Brussels did that to me.
Johnny Gaddar was a good movie. It was a pain killer in an otherwise cramped airline. It made me forget knee pain and bladder for sometime. The Indian food served made me feel like I was hijacked and in the custody of some mullas who cannot afford to make some good naan with butter. Terrible. As terrible as Aishwarya Rai's acting.
I landed in the port of entry. Big airport. Terminals connected by train. Just that no one told us that we need to take that train to reach a domestic terminal. Not even the fellow Indian travellers. We roamed around, with an aim to reach the domestic. It looked aimless though, for the onlookers as we went around in longish circles in the same elevators and escalators every 5 minutes.
Pakistanis like us. Some of them even think India and Pakistan should unite. They like Rekha. Parvez Khan, the immigrant without work permit was there with us for half an hour with his family and was worried about my wife's health. He felt she was not feeling good about something. He spoke a lot. Called my wife "Beta". I remember all of these just becuase that was the time I missed sleep the most and like his army, the Pakistani uncle was disturbing an Indian's peace.
New world order. Respect the queue. Fake your respect for people. Show courtesy when you dont mean it. Smile when you want to frown. Thats new country. Seven hours in its domestic terminal made me feel that the movie "Terminal" was infact a real story. We dint know what to eat, how to eat, when to eat. We could not use the phone becuase we were not aware. We dint know if we have to be in queue. We were not sure if our boarding pass was the right one and if the flight will take us.
Jet lag started hitting. We slept for a minute. Woke up the next. Fear. Fear of losing things, the flight. Losing our faculties. We dragged ourselves to the plane. It was bigger than my bike and less roomier than my car. I slept.
35th hour. Unholy hour. No one in the terminal when the flight landed. 1 AM. Negotiation with the trolley boy to pick up the luggage. The car took us down to the hotel. 30 minutes drive on the same road. I saw the road when it begun and thought, the hotel is on the road and hence its not a long drive. Those 30 minutes of absolute distrust on the arab driver, who reminded me of osama. We did reach the hotel safe, in that rainy night. But the mind was looking for something to go wrong and hence I looked around myself with cues...like arab driver, the road where the hotel is, the long drive that seemed unnecessary, the trolley boy, the deserted airport, rain!
Relocation disturbs mentally and subconciously!
The next day, the janitor female says "Hey Howwayyah". I was not in a mood to respond. but this part of the world demands courtesy and artifical ones at that!
It took a while for me to say "I am fine. how are you?"
It will take a while for me to mean "I am fine. How are you?"
Until then, I will keep you posted!

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Of men and their waists

Let me first announce that I have taken the liberty of being a social anthropologist much to your detests and protests. You may know that I am neither that observant nor am I patient. But there are strange waist changing experiences in my life that happened quietly over the last 10 years that make me feel that I am qualified. So I go ahead....
Men (when they start becoming one) at the age of 16, start caring a bit about their waist. Thats for many reasons. I remember a few.
  1. The much awaited graduation from nicker or arai-drawer or nijar to a full pant. This makes any man in the making, concious. The full pant should fit rightly to the waist so that it neither sweeps the floor nor does it reveal that bony portion above the feet. So waist suddenly becomes a matter of importance
  2. Second reason they care about waist suddenly is that..well...i dont know..

When its 18, waist becomes a matter of utmost importance and distress. The man would have graduated from tailor stichted pants made out of vimal suitings to something from the authentic men's world of dressing - The Allen solly's and Louis Phillipe's of the world. Welcome to the world of men through 28 inches. Suddenly he feels like he has arrived. With the unnatural knowledge of Karl Lagerfield, Valentino Rudi gained from excessive watching of F TV, the man begins to believe that he is indeed fashion.

When he reaches 21, when its time to flex some muscles and get some girls up the alley the man's attention turns again to the waist. He embarks on a lifelong journey of trying to cut down the flab and conquer those two inches for the rest of life to look fit for his age. The war of attrition you may call this one to be. With the Allen Solly's and Louis Phillipe's still assuring him that, inspite of crossing 30 inches he is still a fit man, he goes on to woo the women who mysteriously stay put at 28 inches or even worse, 26 inches. I believe in the non-linearity of life and that's what people call as "hope" in a philosophical conversation. You cant get a more stark evidence of it when you see a girl at her 20 and at her 30. The waist size zooms from 28 to 38 or even 40 in some not so exceptional cases.

At 24 the man's concerns about his waist are different.He has already learnt the art of positive living. He knows words like obesity can mean prosperity as well. He realizes for a moment that, its ok to be 32 inches or even much more. What matters is what job he has and how it can win the best girl in town. Thats what he thinks, till he indeed gets that women out of sheer staying power, money power and luck. Then she comes into life and goes away like how the evergrowing waistline dodges men. After she's gone, a liberal intake of liquor and lot of gas about women make him swell to 34.

This time man tries and succeeds in most cases to marry of woman of (no longer his) choice through arranged marriage. Thats 27 years into this world. Parties, home food and lot of unqualified and undeserved attention from various quarters would mean that its time to be concerned about the waist. Now the waist starts a linear progression competing with his age. The sizes raise in proportion. 36 when he is 27 and 46 when he is 37 and 50 when he is 47.

He stops noticing his waist becuase the illusion of the disappeared legs remind him of ghosts and thats one scary thought, you bet!

Along comes the doctor who advises him to cut down on everything he can eat, smell and see. There comes the miracle! At 60, finally his waist size comes down to 36! But the journey has to go on for the human kind. His son is now 27 years old and on a journey of inflating his waistline while if its a daughter she would have just started the process of looking like a parabolic curve from the top angle!

Of men and their waists.

- The author works for an IT company. He is paid well. He is recently married and he like cooking and eating. His wife likes chocolates and butter.

Vital Stats: Waist (34 inches, when the tummy is tucked in firmly to the extent of jamming the lung walls)

 

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