The Glass has always been half empty for me, Yup I'm a pessimist, and I let it show.
When it rains im not impressed by the rainbow, I hate the humidity and the muck. For all we know rainbows form when god feels Gay and not in the Happy way.
People are either Optimists or Pessimists, and don't even get me started on those who call themselves hopeful realists, they are the pessimists masquerading as optimists, come on now who are you fooling ?
A pessimist is never disappointed Studies say people are depressed most of the times because of unfulfilled expectations. Arre Boss …when you don’t expect anything from anyone or you expect the worst, no man (or for that matter even woman) in this world can disappoint you.
When I expect the worst and it happens, I should in fact feel happy…what I predicted occurred, and do.
True optimists can often annoy me because I think they are quite stupidly naive about how mean this world really can be, its not all Wonderful day, and glorious Evening.
I don't agree with the idea that pessimists don't expect a good outcome, they just believe a good outcome is harder to achieve and not likely to just work out in the end, "Achha hai" if it does work out they are pleasantly Surprised, if not "Pata tha" , No Biggie. As they say A pessimist is either right or gets a pleasant surprise.(Its a Win-Win situation no?)
Positive thinking makes people better consumers, so advertising promotes it endlessly. You see a wider picture in negativity.
Now pessimists are thought to be whiny complainers; Reality Check; Don't be vocal and complain and you get nothing. You even gotta ask/pray to all knowing God for what you want, assuming he is there and listening. You gotta Whine in time it sure saves Nine.
Pessimism seems far more realistic to me. They may be complainers but maybe it's because they see the negatives as well as the positives and therefore acknowledge that you have to tackle the wrong as well as reap the benefits of the good, as opposed to somebody who believes things will work out all right in the end.
You Really got to be a Realist Who says the “light at the end of the tunnel” always resembles “hope”. Give a thought, why can’t it be – “the light of the oncoming train.”
And it sure as hell helps my line of work, in a patient its always better to assume the worst, and come to a diagnosis by exclusion, so you don't miss out on anything.
Now I know no one may read this post, and those who do will not agree, being a pessimist I don't care , I just write what I want without expecting anyone to read it , and speaking of expectations -----------------------------------Remember, a pessimist also expects… so what…if it’s the worst.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Gurus Can Be Funny Too !!
Some reades Might find the material Offensive.
But I had to share this clip, it is sure funny as hell.
This is a audio clip form one of OSHO's (Bhagwan Rajneesh) discourses.
It starts off slow but gets insanely hilarious towards the end, Laugh riot guaranteed.
For parts / pronunciation not understood read the Text form of the Audio Clip Bellow
THE LAST QUESTION BHAGWAN,I FEEL SHOCKED WHEN YOU USE THE WORD 'FUCK'.WHAT TO DO?
Sargamo, it is one of the most beautiful words.
The English language should be proud of it.
I don't think any other language has such a beautiful word.
One Tom from California has done some great research on it.
I think he must be the famous Tom of Tom, Dick and Harry fame.
He says: One of the most interesting words in the English language today is the word 'fuck'.
It is one magical word: just by its sound it can describe pain, pleasure, hate and love.
In language it falls into many grammatical categories.
It can be used as a verb, both transitive (John fucked Mary) and intransitive (Mary was fucked by John), and as a noun (Mary is a fine fuck).
It can be used as an adjective (Mary is fucking beautiful).As you can see there are not many words with the versatility of 'fuck'.
Besides the sexual meaning, there are also the following uses:
Fraud: I got fucked at the used car lot.
Ignorance: Fucked if I know.
Trouble: I guess I am fucked now!
*Aggression: Fuck you!
Displeasure: What the fuck is going on here?
Difficulty: I can't understand this fucking job.
Incompetence: He is a fuck-off.
Suspicion: What the fuck are you doing?
Enjoyment: I had a fucking good time.
Request: Get the fuck out of here!
Hostility: I am going to knock your fucking head off!
Greeting: How the fuck are you?
*Apathy: Who gives a fuck?
Innovation: Get a bigger fucking hammer.
Surprise: Fuck! You scared the shit out of me!
Anxiety: Today is really fucked.
And it is very healthy too.
If every morning you do it as a Transcendental Meditation -- just when you get up, the first thing, repeat the mantra "Fuck you!" five times -- it clears the throat.
That's how I keep my throat clear! Enough for today.
**Personal Note To Those Offended Read the * above
But I had to share this clip, it is sure funny as hell.
This is a audio clip form one of OSHO's (Bhagwan Rajneesh) discourses.
It starts off slow but gets insanely hilarious towards the end, Laugh riot guaranteed.
For parts / pronunciation not understood read the Text form of the Audio Clip Bellow
THE LAST QUESTION BHAGWAN,I FEEL SHOCKED WHEN YOU USE THE WORD 'FUCK'.WHAT TO DO?
Sargamo, it is one of the most beautiful words.
The English language should be proud of it.
I don't think any other language has such a beautiful word.
One Tom from California has done some great research on it.
I think he must be the famous Tom of Tom, Dick and Harry fame.
He says: One of the most interesting words in the English language today is the word 'fuck'.
It is one magical word: just by its sound it can describe pain, pleasure, hate and love.
In language it falls into many grammatical categories.
It can be used as a verb, both transitive (John fucked Mary) and intransitive (Mary was fucked by John), and as a noun (Mary is a fine fuck).
It can be used as an adjective (Mary is fucking beautiful).As you can see there are not many words with the versatility of 'fuck'.
Besides the sexual meaning, there are also the following uses:
Fraud: I got fucked at the used car lot.
Ignorance: Fucked if I know.
Trouble: I guess I am fucked now!
*Aggression: Fuck you!
Displeasure: What the fuck is going on here?
Difficulty: I can't understand this fucking job.
Incompetence: He is a fuck-off.
Suspicion: What the fuck are you doing?
Enjoyment: I had a fucking good time.
Request: Get the fuck out of here!
Hostility: I am going to knock your fucking head off!
Greeting: How the fuck are you?
*Apathy: Who gives a fuck?
Innovation: Get a bigger fucking hammer.
Surprise: Fuck! You scared the shit out of me!
Anxiety: Today is really fucked.
And it is very healthy too.
If every morning you do it as a Transcendental Meditation -- just when you get up, the first thing, repeat the mantra "Fuck you!" five times -- it clears the throat.
That's how I keep my throat clear! Enough for today.
**Personal Note To Those Offended Read the * above
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Miss you - Mhatari cha Boot !!
Though not as famous as their Babylonian counterpart, the terraced Hanging gardens (Ferozeshah Mehta Gardens) are definitely one of the not to be missed places to visit in Mumbai, cool and green, laid out in 1881 over Bombay's main water reservoir, some say to cover the water from the potentially contaminating activity of the nearby Tower of silence. They provide lovely sunset views over the sea, some rather wonderful botanical specimens and contain some of the most interesting bestial topiary (Clipped hedges in form of animals, one of the bush is even clipped to form Hanuman all with long tail, gada and the mountain in hand)
Though adults love Hanging Gardens, which are about the only oasis of green in South Mumbai, the main landmark that imprints on Children is the Mhatari Cha Boot that stands across the road, in Kamala Nehru Park which is often confused with the hanging gardens proper.
Kamala Nehru Park with its paved paths (unlike Hanging Gardens that have dirt paths) is as green as the Hanging Gardens but has more by way of entertainment, for kids and grown ups alike.
From here one can see the spectacualr view of Mumbai - Chowpatty and the queens necklace (Marine Drive)
There is also single storied observation deck where we used to have picnic lunches, when I was a kid, which is still as popular.
The Round Deck
It also offers a breathtaking view of the Chowpatty and The queens Necklace.
The View from when I was a Kid and from the same location Now.
The chief attraction for kids of all ages and for me then and now is the Boot shaped structure inspired by the famous nursery rhyme "There was an Old Woman who lived in a shoe" which gives it its popular loved name "Mhatari Cha Boot"
For me Hanging gardens used to be synonymous with "Mhatari cha boot" and I used to look forward to my mother (adults were still allowed inside then) taking me up the dark and cool staircase that went up the inside of the boot, and led to the small balcony up front above the laces. I can still vividly recall the how the old concrete walls of the boot almost shut out the outside light and sound, it was like being in a completely different place, smooth walled, cool, dark and tunnel like. That small balcony is the tallest place in the garden and as the garden is already atop a Hill (Malabar Hill) it gave one of the most stunning view one that; by the time I reached High School; only children were a privy to, for the door to the boot was made too small for adults to enter. after a few years a horizontal bar was put up across the door already reduced in height, so that only children bellow a certain height could enter, and how we cursed our growth hormones then. But still the boot had company as small children enter that alternate dimension of the boot's interior. The Boot and children were still happy, and though I missed going in myself I found some joy in looking at the bright looks on kids faces as they stood in that balcony. Then some jerk in the govt. decided it was too risky to let unsupervised children into the structure alone (Bloody dumbass).
First they stopped adults going in , but still elder children supervised the smaller ones , then they barred the older kids form entering and then realized that no one was left to supervise the little children so they shut off access to the boot.
Mhatari Cha Boot in its Glory days (Extreme Left) and standing Forlorn now
Children now will never know the joy of entering the small door and scurrying up the old moulded stairway and standing up in the Balcony, waving out to parents below with the look of conquring Everest.
The Park authorities have seemingly crushed the hopes of children under that very same Boot, the kids so lovingly come to see.
All that the little children can do now is scamper up the side of the boot and sit on it, never knowing that there is more to "Mhatari cha Boot" than the outside. Yes, I am one of the lucky few who had a chance to fully know "Mhatari cha Boot " and never miss out a chance to tell how it is inside, but its not something than can be told as much as experienced.
"Mhatari cha boot" now just stands there sad and forlorn, sans the children that were its soul, it seems it also misses us as much as we miss it.
Maybe be One day "Mhatari cha Boot" will just walk off looking for a place where it and the children will be together and happy again.
Though adults love Hanging Gardens, which are about the only oasis of green in South Mumbai, the main landmark that imprints on Children is the Mhatari Cha Boot that stands across the road, in Kamala Nehru Park which is often confused with the hanging gardens proper.
Kamala Nehru Park with its paved paths (unlike Hanging Gardens that have dirt paths) is as green as the Hanging Gardens but has more by way of entertainment, for kids and grown ups alike.
From here one can see the spectacualr view of Mumbai - Chowpatty and the queens necklace (Marine Drive)
There is also single storied observation deck where we used to have picnic lunches, when I was a kid, which is still as popular.The Round Deck
It also offers a breathtaking view of the Chowpatty and The queens Necklace.
The View from when I was a Kid and from the same location Now.
The chief attraction for kids of all ages and for me then and now is the Boot shaped structure inspired by the famous nursery rhyme "There was an Old Woman who lived in a shoe" which gives it its popular loved name "Mhatari Cha Boot"
For me Hanging gardens used to be synonymous with "Mhatari cha boot" and I used to look forward to my mother (adults were still allowed inside then) taking me up the dark and cool staircase that went up the inside of the boot, and led to the small balcony up front above the laces. I can still vividly recall the how the old concrete walls of the boot almost shut out the outside light and sound, it was like being in a completely different place, smooth walled, cool, dark and tunnel like. That small balcony is the tallest place in the garden and as the garden is already atop a Hill (Malabar Hill) it gave one of the most stunning view one that; by the time I reached High School; only children were a privy to, for the door to the boot was made too small for adults to enter. after a few years a horizontal bar was put up across the door already reduced in height, so that only children bellow a certain height could enter, and how we cursed our growth hormones then. But still the boot had company as small children enter that alternate dimension of the boot's interior. The Boot and children were still happy, and though I missed going in myself I found some joy in looking at the bright looks on kids faces as they stood in that balcony. Then some jerk in the govt. decided it was too risky to let unsupervised children into the structure alone (Bloody dumbass).
First they stopped adults going in , but still elder children supervised the smaller ones , then they barred the older kids form entering and then realized that no one was left to supervise the little children so they shut off access to the boot.
Mhatari Cha Boot in its Glory days (Extreme Left) and standing Forlorn now
Children now will never know the joy of entering the small door and scurrying up the old moulded stairway and standing up in the Balcony, waving out to parents below with the look of conquring Everest.
The Park authorities have seemingly crushed the hopes of children under that very same Boot, the kids so lovingly come to see.
All that the little children can do now is scamper up the side of the boot and sit on it, never knowing that there is more to "Mhatari cha Boot" than the outside. Yes, I am one of the lucky few who had a chance to fully know "Mhatari cha Boot " and never miss out a chance to tell how it is inside, but its not something than can be told as much as experienced.
"Mhatari cha boot" now just stands there sad and forlorn, sans the children that were its soul, it seems it also misses us as much as we miss it.
Maybe be One day "Mhatari cha Boot" will just walk off looking for a place where it and the children will be together and happy again.
Monday, June 2, 2008
My Mornings and Evenings in Kamathipura
Though frequent night-visitors ('Ahem) will feign ignorance about the place called Kamathipura, mostly everyone has seen the place in Movies or Documentary films or at least heard about the biggest Red Light district of Mumbai. And though one seems to want any association with the place, for obvious reasons I must admit that for five years me and my friends have spent almost all our mornings and evenings in Kamathipura.
It all started when I was in the fifth standard (ya that early too) when my School Bus Guy; called DALAL (no pun intended); for some inexplicable reason decided to change the route of our School Bus No5. and take it though Kamathipura. God knows what made him do that, its not like it was a short-cut or anything, in fact navigating the bus though the narrow meandering lane took twice the time the normal route would have. So here were we kids all in assorted sizes and ages making trips though Kamathipura to and from school, twice a day.
And suddenly with the change in the bus no.5's route came many changes in the Bus no. 5's occupants. The older kids lost all interest in their chief bus-ride sport of tormenting us young ones, pulling at our ties and making us fight, and began staring out of the windows for extended periods of time. Which was foolish cause the sights that presented themselves were impossibly ugly, owing to the early hour we caught them without any makeup and usually with a tin can in their hands and a toothbrush in their mouths.
For a few weeks while the novelty lasted we were class heroes, come on we were the only ones to have seen Kamathipura first hand and that to twice a day. The moral and ethical issues apart we kids couldn't t for the life of us understand how anyone could bear to even look that the unsettlingly ugly local produce of the place, much less use it, and that to after spending money, that led us to spend a lot of our lunch breaks debating and questioning male horniness to no avail.
But kids need their fun so first we started squeezing our water bottles and spraying water out of the windows into the lane and later we made up a small jingle that we used to sing/scream while passing through Kamathipura, it went like...........No wont mention it here, don't want my blog blacklisted so soon. It soon became a rage and almost a ritual, no one cared if there were anyones parents riding in the bus as they often did, that jingle had to be sung while passing thought the Kamathipura Lane. It took a lot of complaining and vice principle riding the bus for it to stop i.e. we would now sing it under our breath and then giggle uncontrollably like little gals, it seems so retarded now but hell it was fun in that age.
The highpoint of the bus ride though Kamathipura came before just the Infamous lane ended and merged with the Reputable people's main road, here was Alexandra Cinema famous for showing A rated films. Now we couldn't enter the place being minors, all we could do was leer at the hoardings and posters of the raunchy English films dubbed in Hindi, with titles like Gurram Pani, or Shadi aur Barbadi, Vaishi Darinde and Kaamini, gosh I can remember enough titles to fill up this page. With the internet still in its infancy and not having reached sexual maturity like it has now, the only provocative material available to us was that stuck up on walls of Alexandra cinema.LOL
This trip down memory lane almost makes me miss the trip down the actual lane, wish I could dress up again in those white chaddis and shirt and wear a blue tie around my head (not neck) like Rambo and shout out our song though Bus no 5 spraying water out of the window just one more time.
It all started when I was in the fifth standard (ya that early too) when my School Bus Guy; called DALAL (no pun intended); for some inexplicable reason decided to change the route of our School Bus No5. and take it though Kamathipura. God knows what made him do that, its not like it was a short-cut or anything, in fact navigating the bus though the narrow meandering lane took twice the time the normal route would have. So here were we kids all in assorted sizes and ages making trips though Kamathipura to and from school, twice a day.
And suddenly with the change in the bus no.5's route came many changes in the Bus no. 5's occupants. The older kids lost all interest in their chief bus-ride sport of tormenting us young ones, pulling at our ties and making us fight, and began staring out of the windows for extended periods of time. Which was foolish cause the sights that presented themselves were impossibly ugly, owing to the early hour we caught them without any makeup and usually with a tin can in their hands and a toothbrush in their mouths.
For a few weeks while the novelty lasted we were class heroes, come on we were the only ones to have seen Kamathipura first hand and that to twice a day. The moral and ethical issues apart we kids couldn't t for the life of us understand how anyone could bear to even look that the unsettlingly ugly local produce of the place, much less use it, and that to after spending money, that led us to spend a lot of our lunch breaks debating and questioning male horniness to no avail.
But kids need their fun so first we started squeezing our water bottles and spraying water out of the windows into the lane and later we made up a small jingle that we used to sing/scream while passing through Kamathipura, it went like...........No wont mention it here, don't want my blog blacklisted so soon. It soon became a rage and almost a ritual, no one cared if there were anyones parents riding in the bus as they often did, that jingle had to be sung while passing thought the Kamathipura Lane. It took a lot of complaining and vice principle riding the bus for it to stop i.e. we would now sing it under our breath and then giggle uncontrollably like little gals, it seems so retarded now but hell it was fun in that age.
The highpoint of the bus ride though Kamathipura came before just the Infamous lane ended and merged with the Reputable people's main road, here was Alexandra Cinema famous for showing A rated films. Now we couldn't enter the place being minors, all we could do was leer at the hoardings and posters of the raunchy English films dubbed in Hindi, with titles like Gurram Pani, or Shadi aur Barbadi, Vaishi Darinde and Kaamini, gosh I can remember enough titles to fill up this page. With the internet still in its infancy and not having reached sexual maturity like it has now, the only provocative material available to us was that stuck up on walls of Alexandra cinema.LOL
This trip down memory lane almost makes me miss the trip down the actual lane, wish I could dress up again in those white chaddis and shirt and wear a blue tie around my head (not neck) like Rambo and shout out our song though Bus no 5 spraying water out of the window just one more time.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
The List of Extraordinary Gentlemen
I have always been the most critical of my teachers, and though I respect all of them, for reasons as varied as being terrified of them to not wanting to fail their subjects. I will take a bold step forward and make a list of the teachers whom I respect for being teachers as well as good human beings (now that I seem to be beyond their reach.) These are the supermen and women who have achieved the greatest glory of all - of having students (me and others) refer to them as Sirs or Madams with utmost reverence even while talking about them in third person.
Heres a list of the teachers, the archivers -
School
1. Miss. Billimorya
2. Wilfred Norhona
3. Allen Rodrique's
4. Fr. Joe Saldhana
Junior College
1. Mrs. Janghiani (partly because she mothered the hot Preeti Janghiani)
2. Mrs. Sardesai
3. Velinkar Sir (The Boss)
Medical College
1. Lele Madam (or Lele Bai , bai as in guruji and bai , We need more of her type)
2. D. V. Kulkarni
3. Ghadge
4. Kartikeyan Sir (Father figure of RGMC)
5. Amol Sir (the eternal gentleman and thats not because he might happen to read the blog)
7. Pallavi Madam (comes with the Amol Sir package deal, but )
6. Ashutosh Sir ( all gals think hes sweet, need to know his secret dammit)
7. Ghanekar Madam/Bai (again bai used as guruji-bai)
8. Mane sir (Need I specify which one ?)
9. Vishalakshi Mam' (never quite got the spelling of her name)
10. Vivek Sir (Never sat for a lect of his, but somehow he gets the suffix)
11.
12.
13.
Slots kept blank to fill as an when people take offense, Please don't kill me if you do.
And now I Must wonder why the list from RGMC, the place I dont particularly like is the longest ?
Heres a list of the teachers, the archivers -
School
1. Miss. Billimorya
2. Wilfred Norhona
3. Allen Rodrique's
4. Fr. Joe Saldhana
Junior College
1. Mrs. Janghiani (partly because she mothered the hot Preeti Janghiani)
2. Mrs. Sardesai
3. Velinkar Sir (The Boss)
Medical College
1. Lele Madam (or Lele Bai , bai as in guruji and bai , We need more of her type)
2. D. V. Kulkarni
3. Ghadge
4. Kartikeyan Sir (Father figure of RGMC)
5. Amol Sir (the eternal gentleman and thats not because he might happen to read the blog)
7. Pallavi Madam (comes with the Amol Sir package deal, but )
6. Ashutosh Sir ( all gals think hes sweet, need to know his secret dammit)
7. Ghanekar Madam/Bai (again bai used as guruji-bai)
8. Mane sir (Need I specify which one ?)
9. Vishalakshi Mam' (never quite got the spelling of her name)
10. Vivek Sir (Never sat for a lect of his, but somehow he gets the suffix)
11.
12.
13.
Slots kept blank to fill as an when people take offense, Please don't kill me if you do.
And now I Must wonder why the list from RGMC, the place I dont particularly like is the longest ?
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Morya Vs the Blog
10 posts into the Blog and the paranoias kicking in, am already afraid of running out of new ideas for any more posts, what will I do if I cant ramble no more ? That is a stupid question , and I know at least one guy (Morya) who would be happy if that does happen.
Now Morya is a person who has a seemingly smart comment on everything (Seemingly because the comments seem smart only to him) yet when it comes to my blog, for all the negative criticism he has for it, he refuses to comment (wonder if hes afraid of something). All his "vishesh tippani's " are limited to Google-Talk and go like, I quote "kuch bhi faltoogiri likhne ka tere ko aamba accha nahi lagta tow...duniya ne kya karne ka?" and "sab blog delete karke sab bloggers ko shoot karna chahiye" Now who will explain to the little idiot that blogs make some of the most interesting readings in history of print. It gives the voyeur part of our personality some fodder, and some food for though for the intellect.
Now Morya is a nice person and has been a good friend of mine form the days of Lele madams rule. So it is but natural to ask him for comments on the blog, but somehow he feels hes above us lesser bloggers.
Being a friend, I am quite sympathetic to the seemingly smart retorts, he uses as a shield behind which he hides most of the times, mebe he was abused as a child, but I wish someone could Drill into that thick skull of his that blogs will continue coming up whether or not he likes them and no one actually cares about what he thinks.
So the scores stand Morya = Nada; My blog= 1
Now Morya is a person who has a seemingly smart comment on everything (Seemingly because the comments seem smart only to him) yet when it comes to my blog, for all the negative criticism he has for it, he refuses to comment (wonder if hes afraid of something). All his "vishesh tippani's " are limited to Google-Talk and go like, I quote "kuch bhi faltoogiri likhne ka tere ko aamba accha nahi lagta tow...duniya ne kya karne ka?" and "sab blog delete karke sab bloggers ko shoot karna chahiye" Now who will explain to the little idiot that blogs make some of the most interesting readings in history of print. It gives the voyeur part of our personality some fodder, and some food for though for the intellect.
Now Morya is a nice person and has been a good friend of mine form the days of Lele madams rule. So it is but natural to ask him for comments on the blog, but somehow he feels hes above us lesser bloggers.
Being a friend, I am quite sympathetic to the seemingly smart retorts, he uses as a shield behind which he hides most of the times, mebe he was abused as a child, but I wish someone could Drill into that thick skull of his that blogs will continue coming up whether or not he likes them and no one actually cares about what he thinks.
So the scores stand Morya = Nada; My blog= 1
Friday, May 30, 2008
Alphan..so ??
Whats the deal with people and mangoes?
Ratnagiri, Devgadh, Kesar, Batli, Langda, Payri, Rajapuri, or Hapus its just a fruit .
And why is it so hard for anyone to believe that someone cannot like mangoes? I don't hate mangoes Its just that I don't love then to the extent of eating 10 a day like my Baba, whos had mangos with chapattis for lunch and dinner and mango for desert later. The sheer obsession makes me cringe. Mango season is like Rohu season from Bengal, no one talks of anything else, or eats anything else for that matter.
After I am forced to eat one ( in my family everybody loves mangoes ..That’s cool with me but the idea that I don’t like mangoes does not register. I think their brain is not ready to process the fact that some people do not like mangoes.) Haan so after I am forced to eat one I am left with an awfully sweet taste and minute mango fibers stuck between all my teeth. And you would think that this only lasts for a few months but no we actually make pulp out of dozens of mangoes and store them frozen in little packets to be had over the year till the time Mangoes decides to come in season again, in the next year. So I have to endure the overrated fruit in one form or another (Aamras, Ambapoli, Amrakhand) year round. Methinks its this excessive obsession with mangoes that has driven me off it.
There are so many fruits, like bananas that are grace us perennially are seedless, cheap and easy to eat. While Mangoes come once a year and are hard to choose and to eat, making them doubly penalized and dont even get me started on the cost is it King of fruits or fruit for kings ?
Wish I could figure out while MAN GOES mad over MANGOES.
Ratnagiri, Devgadh, Kesar, Batli, Langda, Payri, Rajapuri, or Hapus its just a fruit .
And why is it so hard for anyone to believe that someone cannot like mangoes? I don't hate mangoes Its just that I don't love then to the extent of eating 10 a day like my Baba, whos had mangos with chapattis for lunch and dinner and mango for desert later. The sheer obsession makes me cringe. Mango season is like Rohu season from Bengal, no one talks of anything else, or eats anything else for that matter.
After I am forced to eat one ( in my family everybody loves mangoes ..That’s cool with me but the idea that I don’t like mangoes does not register. I think their brain is not ready to process the fact that some people do not like mangoes.) Haan so after I am forced to eat one I am left with an awfully sweet taste and minute mango fibers stuck between all my teeth. And you would think that this only lasts for a few months but no we actually make pulp out of dozens of mangoes and store them frozen in little packets to be had over the year till the time Mangoes decides to come in season again, in the next year. So I have to endure the overrated fruit in one form or another (Aamras, Ambapoli, Amrakhand) year round. Methinks its this excessive obsession with mangoes that has driven me off it.
There are so many fruits, like bananas that are grace us perennially are seedless, cheap and easy to eat. While Mangoes come once a year and are hard to choose and to eat, making them doubly penalized and dont even get me started on the cost is it King of fruits or fruit for kings ?
Wish I could figure out while MAN GOES mad over MANGOES.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Why I cant take a dump in peace..
A few weeks ago I was faced with what is going to be one of the most memorable (cause I just cant forget it) medical case of my medical carer, which has been a woefully short one as of now.
I was sitting at my "Adda of Solitude" as usual when I received a call form a Homeopath friend about a Patient of his with intense Pruritis Anii (Itchy Butt in layman's terms) that he wanted me to check out.
The patient arrived bang on time and was clearly in a lot of distress, I offered him a seat on which he sat but was fidgety and restless.
Here was a 45 yr old male hindu patient, staying in Mumbai hailing form Uttar Pradesh giving a history of Burning, Itching and irritation since 10 am on that very day, with no previous history any similar condition. In my mind I ran through the all the textbook causes that might cause the condition right form Local conditions such as bites and parasitic infestations to dermatitis and from hemorrhoids, fissure, fistula right to Condyloma acuminatum. But somehow nothing seemed to fit with the "From 10 am today only, never before " scenario.
Being a true Sugar pill - Homeopath my friend had not bothered to examine the site, which was now left to me.
I start examining the site and see what appearers to be some moist crusts/growths around the anus. Just as I say "Chalo Ho Gaya" and am content thinking HPV it is, a little of the crust rubs off on my glove and it feels strangely like paste. God knows why I smell it (Hold your 'Eeeuss.) It has a odour like Faeces. And then the diagnosis and solution hits me along with the disgusting stink. Bright light from heaven envelopes me as I with air of "Tumhara kalyan Ho, Balak" order him to go immediately to the loo and wash the area(Butt if you will) with Condy's solution (Nothing fancy just plain water with a crystal or two of Potassium Permangenate) saying "Abbhi sab theek ho jayega".
He comes back with a look of surprise and relief on his face, "Saab 90% jalan aur khujli chali gayee"
On further inquiry I learned that - on that same day he overslept and not wanting to get late for work rushed through this daily morning ablutions. Forgetting to wash up after clearing his bowels, the clinging 'shit' had caused all the burning and itching, a single wash and all was fine.
After giving some symptomatic treatment, and sending the contented man home I sat down to think, isn't washing up after ourselves, something each one of us does we each and every day of our lives, so much so that it becomes a conditioned reflex, I mean come on its all like clockwork water falls hand moves automatically and its all clean.
Then how can anyone forget doing something that happens without thinking ?
Try as I might I just cant forget Mr. Itchy Butt. It sure has messed up my alone time in the loo Whenever I am 'IN' all that I can think of is " I'm always in a hurry and what if I forget to wash up?"
It has completely spoilt my daily Gratifying experience (especially in the mornings) and and each bowel movement has become a moving experience for me it quite frankly has made me Paranoid (Please Excuse me, Ive Gotta flush) and now I can't take a dump in peace....
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Of Sugars and Spices and My new Vices.
After contemplating starting this post with a "Hello My Cherry Muffins", "My choco-chip cookies" in a la Under Honey's Hat (From HT cafe') and realizing that neither do I have a hat (or anything under it) nor am I going to be paid for witting ridiculously gossipy stuff in a even more ridiculous manner, I decided not to hold back on the verbal sugar lest you get Diabetes.
But on with the the Tale of Discovery.
It all started with my "Dost" visiting me a late evening with a blissful expression like Buddha newly enlightened. With a sigh says she " You don't know pleasure till you have a Sexy Lady". Huh ? Now we all know that don't we ? but I was concerned considering that shes somewhat of a Lady herself. "No, no you perverted ass, I mean the pastry Sexy Lady" another sigh, this time form me. Another one of my "Dosts" lost to the new Deli.
My "Bhookad" friends have been pestering me from a long time for a treat at a Deli opened up near my place, swearing by the sugary treats and the spicy lady proprietor. And I not being a very sweets person or a very sweet person, thinking about the dent in my wallet the trip would entail, put it off each time with imaginative excuses. But alas Imagination can only take you so far, after having exhausted all the possible excuses last week, I had to relent. And dammit I must admit I curious too.
A short walk and long push finds me at the counter, Greeted by the sugary smile of Spicy Mistress of Sweets and I cant help wondering about the "Sexy Ladies" (Both of them) or what smells so good the goodies or the proprietor........Ahem' .
We settle in to the seats (Are they too small or am I too big?) and wait for the Pastries to show up. "Dosts" are quiet for the first time, lost in thought, thinking about the Sexy Ladies one or the other no doubt.
Then the Ladies show up daintily dressed and 'Oh so small for the price, the "Kanjoos" in me dies a little. All eyes are at me - the sweet hater. I pick up a spoon and in it goes. Its like being punched in the mouth with flavorers I had not known existed, Oh the silky texture the smooth exterior with warm chocolaty interior, my limited voacab cant do it justice.
The Lady Herself
If they were women I would cower in the corner, unable to stop staring at them, drooling whilst disgruntled in the knowledge that such attractive ladies are seldom accompanied by anything up top. I would try to tell myself "I'm not interested in their looks. They're blatantly bimbos and I like intelligence in a lady." But in this case, they are intelligent too. They're multi-layered sponge cakes with a cherry on top. And I'm not talking about those nasty glace cherries either.You may be crying, "Pastries like this don't exist in real life! But, believe it or not, my friend, they are out there along with the truth.
The evil is unleashed, my sweet tooth buried under mounds of Chili Fries, and "Thikha Bhels" has been unearthed. Restored to its glory with the patina all scrubbed away it demands a tribute each time I visit a sweet shop. Choclolates, pastries, Mithais and the good 'ol Anant Athavle's Square sweets all go down the hatch in scores, making me fluffier by the hour.
Enough now for the sweet tooth demands another tribute.
Damn you Sexy Ladies !!!
But on with the the Tale of Discovery.
It all started with my "Dost" visiting me a late evening with a blissful expression like Buddha newly enlightened. With a sigh says she " You don't know pleasure till you have a Sexy Lady". Huh ? Now we all know that don't we ? but I was concerned considering that shes somewhat of a Lady herself. "No, no you perverted ass, I mean the pastry Sexy Lady" another sigh, this time form me. Another one of my "Dosts" lost to the new Deli.
My "Bhookad" friends have been pestering me from a long time for a treat at a Deli opened up near my place, swearing by the sugary treats and the spicy lady proprietor. And I not being a very sweets person or a very sweet person, thinking about the dent in my wallet the trip would entail, put it off each time with imaginative excuses. But alas Imagination can only take you so far, after having exhausted all the possible excuses last week, I had to relent. And dammit I must admit I curious too.
A short walk and long push finds me at the counter, Greeted by the sugary smile of Spicy Mistress of Sweets and I cant help wondering about the "Sexy Ladies" (Both of them) or what smells so good the goodies or the proprietor........Ahem' .
We settle in to the seats (Are they too small or am I too big?) and wait for the Pastries to show up. "Dosts" are quiet for the first time, lost in thought, thinking about the Sexy Ladies one or the other no doubt.
Then the Ladies show up daintily dressed and 'Oh so small for the price, the "Kanjoos" in me dies a little. All eyes are at me - the sweet hater. I pick up a spoon and in it goes. Its like being punched in the mouth with flavorers I had not known existed, Oh the silky texture the smooth exterior with warm chocolaty interior, my limited voacab cant do it justice.
The Lady HerselfIf they were women I would cower in the corner, unable to stop staring at them, drooling whilst disgruntled in the knowledge that such attractive ladies are seldom accompanied by anything up top. I would try to tell myself "I'm not interested in their looks. They're blatantly bimbos and I like intelligence in a lady." But in this case, they are intelligent too. They're multi-layered sponge cakes with a cherry on top. And I'm not talking about those nasty glace cherries either.You may be crying, "Pastries like this don't exist in real life! But, believe it or not, my friend, they are out there along with the truth.
The evil is unleashed, my sweet tooth buried under mounds of Chili Fries, and "Thikha Bhels" has been unearthed. Restored to its glory with the patina all scrubbed away it demands a tribute each time I visit a sweet shop. Choclolates, pastries, Mithais and the good 'ol Anant Athavle's Square sweets all go down the hatch in scores, making me fluffier by the hour.
Enough now for the sweet tooth demands another tribute.
Damn you Sexy Ladies !!!
Monday, May 26, 2008
Bhaiya Chaloge Kya ?
The hot sun beats down relentlessly, sapping even the last vestiges of energy already drained by making House calls to Old patients. Visions' blurring, throats' parched, heads' throbbing but I prod my self along. Even the road has softened under the heat and it burns through the soles of my shoes. I can swear a few vultures circle overhead but soon move away maybe not wanting to face the daunting task of eating through the pounds of flab that make me, me. Just as Consciousness fades I see the fruit of my perilous journey standing majestically, a row of those ships of the tarmac standing, shimmering like a row of black diamonds, and I pray to god - Let it not be a mirage.
Full of hope, and with a song in my heart I step up to the head of the row and pop the question, those magical three words ---BHAIYA CHALOGE KYA ??
Unperturbed the sleepy eyed "challak" grunts without even looking up "KHALI NAHI HAIN"
Says me "BHAIYA METER TO UP HAIN", only to be shot down "ITNE PAAS KA BHADA NAHI LETE HUM"
Now lesser mortals, dejected may walk away with slumped shoulders, but not I , for I know the "RAAZ KI BAAT" or more aptly put the "RAJ KI BAAT".
The Marathi manus in me is all agog and "Jaga" and with a "Jai Maharashtra !!!" I jump in the taxi and start in my Marathi "Salya , Tuzya Aaila @#$%, tu kay tuza bap pan yeil, $%&# chalvto ki nay gadi ?" punctuated buy a few other choice gems from my "Shuddha Marathi Shivyan Cha Sangraha" (Thanks to Friends from Girgaon for that)
The Khaki goes a shade paler from waist up, and two shades darker bellow the waist, "Haan saab , chalte hain na "
After seeing my well rehearsed "INGA" Its all smooth sailing in uneasy silence right to my doorstep, and My trained ears hear that imperceptible khaki sigh of relief; even over the loud "KHADAK" as I bang-shut the door.
I get out and toss the notes on the front seat, triumphant smile all over my face, with a burning question in my heart -- How long will this last ?
I don't really know if this recent Hullabaloo over the Uttar Bharatiyas in Mumbai (Im not that well connected to use the term Bhaiyas) is politically motivated or if it comes from a genuine concern for Mumbaikars, and i don't even know whether the methods of open confrontations and violence are right or wrong, and I frankly don't care if Lallu comes and performs Chhath pooja in Mumbai, All i know is that it seems like my transportation problems have ended.
So I really must really thank this dude Raj, for helping this poor Doctor (who cant drive) form Mumbai to Visit his patients comfortably.
Raj ki baat suno bhai sadhon,
Aisa kalyug aayega...,
Lambe Bhade bharke Udegi Taxi,
Dactar chalta jayega,
Mumbaikar chalta jayega...........
Note to Self --- Learn to Drive Jackass !!!
Full of hope, and with a song in my heart I step up to the head of the row and pop the question, those magical three words ---BHAIYA CHALOGE KYA ??
Unperturbed the sleepy eyed "challak" grunts without even looking up "KHALI NAHI HAIN"
Says me "BHAIYA METER TO UP HAIN", only to be shot down "ITNE PAAS KA BHADA NAHI LETE HUM"
Now lesser mortals, dejected may walk away with slumped shoulders, but not I , for I know the "RAAZ KI BAAT" or more aptly put the "RAJ KI BAAT".
The Marathi manus in me is all agog and "Jaga" and with a "Jai Maharashtra !!!" I jump in the taxi and start in my Marathi "Salya , Tuzya Aaila @#$%, tu kay tuza bap pan yeil, $%&# chalvto ki nay gadi ?" punctuated buy a few other choice gems from my "Shuddha Marathi Shivyan Cha Sangraha" (Thanks to Friends from Girgaon for that)
The Khaki goes a shade paler from waist up, and two shades darker bellow the waist, "Haan saab , chalte hain na "
After seeing my well rehearsed "INGA" Its all smooth sailing in uneasy silence right to my doorstep, and My trained ears hear that imperceptible khaki sigh of relief; even over the loud "KHADAK" as I bang-shut the door.
I get out and toss the notes on the front seat, triumphant smile all over my face, with a burning question in my heart -- How long will this last ?
I don't really know if this recent Hullabaloo over the Uttar Bharatiyas in Mumbai (Im not that well connected to use the term Bhaiyas) is politically motivated or if it comes from a genuine concern for Mumbaikars, and i don't even know whether the methods of open confrontations and violence are right or wrong, and I frankly don't care if Lallu comes and performs Chhath pooja in Mumbai, All i know is that it seems like my transportation problems have ended.
So I really must really thank this dude Raj, for helping this poor Doctor (who cant drive) form Mumbai to Visit his patients comfortably.
Raj ki baat suno bhai sadhon,
Aisa kalyug aayega...,
Lambe Bhade bharke Udegi Taxi,
Dactar chalta jayega,
Mumbaikar chalta jayega...........
Note to Self --- Learn to Drive Jackass !!!
Sunday, May 25, 2008
PC with a Personality.
Back again at my 'Adda' of Solitude, in the pleasantly undemanding company of my PC, alone yet not alone.
This Collection of circuit boards and wires has strangely come to mean a lot to me throughout the years that i have known it.
Funny thing is I almost regard my PC as a person, a synthesized Life form even, with its own unique personality. Ive watched it grow and evolve from a monochromatic , stuttering and crawling 486 that barely did anything more than sit idly on my desktop grinning foolishly ..... to this lean whizzing Dual core machine that now sits in the exact same place on my desk but is capable of showing a full gamut of human emotions.
Maybe its that dual core brain that gives it all the signs and symptoms of MPD - Multiple personality disorder. The personalities are so opposed ones a goody two shoes so eager to please and the other is like a adolescent antisocial lunatic that just wont comply ( makes me wish i had paid more attention to / actually attended the Lectures of Psychiatry while studying for MBBS so that I could write more on MPD and bore You guys Further , But Alas).
Mostly it stats up bang on time does the set chores without a Huff and then goes of to sleep as set by the timer, but on a few days ,once every few months ,well it raves and rants , heats up and sleeps on its own refusing to start up or even look at me even after all my coaxing and ministrations and pleas, everything i do to please it is, well, just wrong. Married guys know what im talking about, right ? No ? -----its PMS, thats how i know my PC's a Gal.
But for all her (ya I call it a her now) mood swings and MPD apart shes a good gal at heart.
Aways stood my me through good times and bad, entertained me, educated me, helped me to make new friends & not loose old ones, fed me (http://www.cookbooks.com/) , stayed patiently quiet when asked to, perked me up when I was low. All this in return for just a few taps and clicks.
PCs might mean different thing to different people but its always been a good Friend (what else can i call it ) to me.
So sometime if u see me sitting at my PC and I suddenly begin talking to her , don't call up an ambulance, come and sit besides us and listen.
The 'Ol gal sure has some tall tales to tell ------ as they say "Khoob Jamega Rang , Jab Mil Baithenge Teen Yar ------ Aap, Main Aur Mera PC"
PC:s are PC:s
So why should it be
People Hate 'em so awfully ?
So they're different makes
And they're different breeds
And different PC:s have different needs
You tell me that you hate this
That I've done something wrong
I've only typed and up came this song.
My PC's better , My PC's fast
'Tis your bad you didn't upgrade
And now your PC comes last.
PC:s will rule the world , you'll see
Trapped in their 'Net will be humanity
Ive always been their friend hope they'll spare me.
The rambles must stop now for my stomach rumbles. Oh ! PC where would I be without Thee.
This Collection of circuit boards and wires has strangely come to mean a lot to me throughout the years that i have known it.
Funny thing is I almost regard my PC as a person, a synthesized Life form even, with its own unique personality. Ive watched it grow and evolve from a monochromatic , stuttering and crawling 486 that barely did anything more than sit idly on my desktop grinning foolishly ..... to this lean whizzing Dual core machine that now sits in the exact same place on my desk but is capable of showing a full gamut of human emotions.
Maybe its that dual core brain that gives it all the signs and symptoms of MPD - Multiple personality disorder. The personalities are so opposed ones a goody two shoes so eager to please and the other is like a adolescent antisocial lunatic that just wont comply ( makes me wish i had paid more attention to / actually attended the Lectures of Psychiatry while studying for MBBS so that I could write more on MPD and bore You guys Further , But Alas).
Mostly it stats up bang on time does the set chores without a Huff and then goes of to sleep as set by the timer, but on a few days ,once every few months ,well it raves and rants , heats up and sleeps on its own refusing to start up or even look at me even after all my coaxing and ministrations and pleas, everything i do to please it is, well, just wrong. Married guys know what im talking about, right ? No ? -----its PMS, thats how i know my PC's a Gal.
But for all her (ya I call it a her now) mood swings and MPD apart shes a good gal at heart.
Aways stood my me through good times and bad, entertained me, educated me, helped me to make new friends & not loose old ones, fed me (http://www.cookbooks.com/) , stayed patiently quiet when asked to, perked me up when I was low. All this in return for just a few taps and clicks.
PCs might mean different thing to different people but its always been a good Friend (what else can i call it ) to me.
So sometime if u see me sitting at my PC and I suddenly begin talking to her , don't call up an ambulance, come and sit besides us and listen.
The 'Ol gal sure has some tall tales to tell ------ as they say "Khoob Jamega Rang , Jab Mil Baithenge Teen Yar ------ Aap, Main Aur Mera PC"
PC:s are PC:s
So why should it be
People Hate 'em so awfully ?
So they're different makes
And they're different breeds
And different PC:s have different needs
You tell me that you hate this
That I've done something wrong
I've only typed and up came this song.
My PC's better , My PC's fast
'Tis your bad you didn't upgrade
And now your PC comes last.
PC:s will rule the world , you'll see
Trapped in their 'Net will be humanity
Ive always been their friend hope they'll spare me.
The rambles must stop now for my stomach rumbles. Oh ! PC where would I be without Thee.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Death Be Not Proud
DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell.
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
---------by John Donne
(1572-1631)
Often have I begun a new enterprise with incantations of Gods and Goddesses from our pantheon and often has it failed and ended miserably. So , i wondered why not start something with an incantation deglorifying Death , that should be a nice Double Negative No ?
So i Start at the End cause without a End I cannot Start , and if I fail again blame it on the unholy beginnings.
Nice Sonnet it is though "DEATH BE NOT PROUD" Donne turns his rhetorical skills on his greatest poetic adversary and my professional one - death itself.
But enough of the Goth feel now to more pressing matters at hand, and on to all the house calls i have to make.
The Ramblings Have begun !!
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell.
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
---------by John Donne
(1572-1631)
Often have I begun a new enterprise with incantations of Gods and Goddesses from our pantheon and often has it failed and ended miserably. So , i wondered why not start something with an incantation deglorifying Death , that should be a nice Double Negative No ?
So i Start at the End cause without a End I cannot Start , and if I fail again blame it on the unholy beginnings.
Nice Sonnet it is though "DEATH BE NOT PROUD" Donne turns his rhetorical skills on his greatest poetic adversary and my professional one - death itself.
But enough of the Goth feel now to more pressing matters at hand, and on to all the house calls i have to make.
The Ramblings Have begun !!
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