Laff It Off

Four married guys go golfing. During the 4th hole the following conversation took place:

First Guy: "You have no idea what I had to do to be able to come out golfing this weekend. I had to promise my wife that I will paint every room in the house next weekend."

Second Guy: "That's nothing, I had to promise my wife that I will build her a new deck for the pool."

Third Guy: "Man, you both have it easy! I had to promise my wife that I will remodel the kitchen for her."

They continue to play the hole when they realized that the fourth guy has not said a word. So they ask him. "You haven't said anything about what you had to do to be able to come golfing this weekend. What's the deal?"

Fourth Guy: "I just set my alarm for 5:30am. When it goes off, I shut off my alarm, give the wife a budge and say, 'Golf Course or Intercourse?' So she says, 'Wear your sweater.'"
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Mother Superior was walking in the garden one day when she saw a novice nun working in the vegetable patch. Unfortunately every seed she planted was stolen by the birds, which were sitting, watching her from nearby.

"Fuck off!" she shouted, "Just fuck off!"

Mother Superior was quite disgusted by this and called her over.

"Young lady.......That is NOT how a young nun behaves. Next time the birds steal your seeds, just say shoo.......shoo.... and they'll FUCK OFF by themselves."
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A few months after his parents were divorced, Little Johnny passed by his mom's bedroom and saw her rubbing her body and moaning, "I need a man, I need a man!".

Over the next couple of months, he saw her doing this several times.

One day, he came home from school and heard her moaning. When he peeked into her bedroom, he saw a man on top of her.

Little Johnny ran into his room, took off his clothes, threw himself on his bed, started stroking himself, and moaning, "Ohh, I need a bike! I need a bike!"
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Cheers!
;)

The Curfew

I had been missing in action over the past one week because of ridiculous circumstances that led to our entire city – and some towns on the outskirts - being sentenced to house arrest. Some people say that ‘curfew’ is a more appropriate term in this context, but I don’t really care; it doesn’t matter what you call it, the effect being more or less the same. I am one of those humble souls unfortunate enough to live and, during the past week, to have been brutally detained in a house that has not yet been equipped with a connection to the Internet. That was the reason for my mysterious absence.

Am I writing this monograph because I haven’t written much else in the past several days, and because I feel that blasted need to exercise my bombastic vocabulary? Perhaps, but not really! I am writing this to beat the monotony caused by these wretched circumstances. I am also writing this as an explanation to the online community who might have missed me, or my psychobabble, for quite some time now.

Brief Highlights

Friday, September 29: Preparations for a long weekend. Spirits high.

Saturday, September 30: Long weekend begins. I dedicate this day to HBO.

Sunday, October 01: Long weekend continues. I dedicate this day to Cartoon Network.

Monday, October 02: Long weekend continues. Today marks the last day of the Dashera festivities for Hindus. Today also marks the birth date of the half-naked, bald-headed Indian sex symbol tactfully called the father of the nation. Seriously, the less I speak about that guy, the better. By the way, I dedicate this day partly to HBO and partly to Cartoon Network. Unbelievable? Whatever!

Tuesday, October 03: Long weekend over. Back to work, unaware of what is coming up!

Wednesday, October 04: All I know is that some group had planned to hold some sort of a demonstration march called Kannada Chaluvali on this date. I sincerely do not know what that means. For some reason, buses are called off on this pretext, and I could not get to office. HBO presented some nice movies today.
Evening Newsflash: Reports a hit-and run incident involving a truck and a pedestrian woman. A striking aspect of the case was that the truck was being used to transport cows; cows are one of the major causes for religious disharmony among our people. The truck was reportedly chased by the more conscientious among those who witnessed the incident, until its nervous driver lost control and crashed into yet another vehicle at some distance. Some Hindu group appeals that the next day be observed as a bandh (for those who don’t know, a bandh is a kind of protest that people are expected to observe by not bothering to get out of their houses for the said period).
My Personal Doubts: What was the real issue - was it hit-and-run, or was it that the truck was transporting cows? What problem will a bandh solve in this case? Exactly what is this group trying to prove, and to whom? What should I watch tomorrow – HBO, Cartoon Network, or both?

Thursday, October 05: Bandh in progress. No public transportation; no office; no nothing. I dedicate this day partly to HBO and partly to Cartoon Network. Why does my brain feel like a cabbage? Perhaps because that long weekend has turned out longer than expected; because I haven’t been able to attended to serious official work since Friday, and because I shall not be able to attend office tomorrow as well (tomorrow is my sister’s engagement).
Rumour During The Day: There have been some unpleasant confrontations in the city, the nature of which promise instant communal clashes between two groups of humans. Who has forgotten the communal riots of 1998? Hope they do something to contain the situation in good time.
Side Effect: My sister’s engagement is postponed. All invitees are informed. The wedding has been scheduled for December 11. I am not sure if there will be an engagement; I think they will directly get married on the scheduled date.

Friday, October 06: Yesterday’s rumour is certified. News reports several clashes and a related murder in the city during the bandh. Situation seems very delicate. The bandh continues. No public transportation; no office; no nothing. The cabbage is growing. HBO suddenly looks quite unoriginal. Cartoon Network seems like a punishment.
Evening Newsflash: Communal violence was observed at certain parts in our city as well as at some other vulnerable locations in the district. The police had been given a free hand to control the same, but they could not do a perfect job because they fell short of human resources. Curfew is imposed in the district for three days.

Saturday, October 07: Another weekend already! Curfew is in progress. Really, what difference does it make? For the past week, every day has been a Sunday, except that we have been under house arrest. Curfew only gives it a more formal structure and a pretty name. I am making conscious efforts not to forget the date by looking at the calendar once in a few hours. I hate HBO! I hate Cartoon Network! Star World has a couple of great comedy shows, but nothing else of much significance. Discovery Channel gets boring after a few hours. I badly miss work; I badly miss my friends; I badly miss my blogmates. The cabbage has grown quite heavy.

Sunday, October 08: They relaxed the curfew for a period of two hours from 9 am to 11 am. Stepping out on the streets was a great relief, even for two hours. People should have utilized this welcome break to replenish their household supplies. But then, not much of anything was available, and the market forces quickly doubled the rates of a few essentials. After the two hours, the city was a morgue again. The streets had become the shared property of the local police, the CRPF, and the RAF. Anyone else found on the streets (except the press of course) would be brutally assaulted by one or more of the three forces. The press captured a few such instances for our perusal. I don’t know what channels and programmes I watched on TV today. I know I watched something, though.
Evening Newsflash: Curfew extended to tomorrow evening!
Personal Reaction: Blasted @#!$@^#&!!

Monday, October 09: They relaxed the curfew for a period of four hours from 9 am to 1 pm. At last, independence! Fresh air! Sniffffff!!! Today people did utilize this break to replenish some of their household supplies. I suddenly realized today that it was still raining in our city. It is odd that it should rain in October, but what the heck! Sniffffffff!!! I had a wonderful haircut and a nice shave. After the four hours, the city was a morgue again. The streets had become the shared property of the local police, the CRPF, and the RAF...
Evening Newsflash: Curfew relaxed for 12 hours from 7 am to 7 pm tomorrow! Buses may still not ply, but hope to get to office on private vehicles.

Tuesday, October 10: My colleague just called. We planned to leave for office on his two-wheeler, while two more colleagues would be joining us on another bike. If I post this today, it would mean we reached office.


Cheers!


PS: Soon, I might compose another part of this article, which might possibly talk about my personal opinions and views on communal and religious unrests.

Arrested For Laughing!

A young woman several months pregnant boarded a bus. She noticed a young man smiling at her she began feeling humiliated on account of her condition. She changed her seat and he seemed more amused. She moved again and then on her third move he burst out laughing! She had him arrested. When the case came before the court, the young man was asked why he acted in such a manner. His reply was:

When the lady boarded the bus I couldn't help noticing she was pregnant. She first sat under an advertisement, which read, 'Coming Soon: The Gold Dust Twins'.

I was even more amused when she changed her seat and went to sit under a shaving advertisement, which read, 'William's Stick Did The Trick'.

Then I could not control myself any longer when on the third move she sat under an advertisement, which read: 'Dunlop Rubber would have prevented this accident.'

The case was dismissed.

Why Don't I Vote?

Much can be said about why I don't vote.

I voted for the first (and the last) time when I was 18, because it was a new, thrilling experience to be able to exercise a right to elect your representative in the government. Then, opening my eyes to the political scenario of my beloved country, I learnt some very disturbing lessons, which not only dissuaded me from voting ever again, but also made me turn my face against politics and politicians, and against all things associated with them.

I present for your perusal below only a few of the several reasons:

In our great nation, elected representatives of the people -- no matter which political party they belong to -- have always kept themselves busy in numerous scams like Coffin Scam, Telecom Scam, Stamp Scam, Fodder Scam, and Bofors Scam to name only a few. I am not sure if you have heard of those; if not, try to read up on the various scams associated with Indian politics. I do not know of a better form of entertainment.

Moreover, they -- the politicians as well as government employees -- are also busy swallowing bribes. They have different rates for different purposes at various levels. If you have money to burn and if you are willing to share some of it with them, you are welcome. If not, you can take a walk.

No Indian citizen should need evidence to the fact that it is none but our politicians who have been inspiring communal disharmony and general unrest in the country. Such unrest and disharmony enable them to play the blame-game; those are the legs that secure their political chairs. If people die in the bargain, well, that's collateral damage. That's not their fault. Really.

Not only have they engaged in criminal activities, but also they have twisted the law of the land -- if there ever was a law in the land -- to their own convenience. Law, like any other commodity or service, can be bought. Yes, money can indeed buy much more than you imagined!

Has there ever been a case of cross-border terrorist attack that was not politically inspired? We may blame our neighbours for training or deploying terrorists, but I seriously believe that most of the major attacks could never have come about without inside political help. I may not have the evidence to support these claims, but I am as certain of this point as one could ever be. I am sure that even if nobody else understands what I am talking about, at least the brave soldiers posted at our borders will.

Dear friends, politics in India rhymes with corruption, and is tangled with terrorism. Politicians would do anything -- and I mean abso-damn-lutely anything -- to stay in power and to get richer by the day. They would misuse the power given to them by the people. They would forget that they are mere servants of the nation. They would forget that they are but representatives of the people of a great nation...

Friends, I could go on and on with this disgraceful monograph, but I am sure you get the point. I ask you now, if you would like these people to represent you or your nation. Would you like the rest of the world to identify you or your country by such shameful values? I would certainly not!
When my elected representative indulges in selfish or illegal activities, or perpetrates heinous crimes, then I would automatically become an accessory to such atrocities. I do not want such representatives. I am quite capable of representing myself. That is why I do not vote.


Cheers!


PS: To be able to better appreciate what I have written here, one must have lived in these conditions in a middle-class family, must have made such subtle observations as are not always explicitly evident, and must have suffered, or at least seen others suffer, abuse at government offices, police stations, government hospitals...

I Tried

The disheartening phenomenon has rendered me defenseless once again. Only, this time it has not paralyzed my eloquence. I am writing these lines because I am allowed to, because words have not forsaken me. Not yet, at least. Therefore I am taking the liberty of describing the sudden invasion.

Nonetheless, I am quite unsure about what final shape this monograph will take. Would it, once finished, qualify to be called a treatise on my suffering? Or would it simply turn out to be an insipid essay, which will demonstrate the depth of my helplessness? I am, as yet, unsure.

I do greatly value the time and intelligence of my readers. I am morally obligated not to waste the former, nor to tax the latter beyond reasonable limits. And yet, at times such as now - fallen prey to a disease that numbs the mind - I fear that I have committed the crime and driven my readers away. It is precisely this strange feeling, which usually consumes me enough to keep me from picking up a pen or pecking at the keyboard.

A peculiar sensation – as if everything worth writing about has already been written about, and as if writing any more would make no sense – creeps in from somewhere and overwhelms the mind. It usually attacks without forewarning, and there is no telling as to how long it rules.

It invades such powers of the mind as perception, thought, scrutiny, and reasoning. All of a sudden, nothing seems to matter. Creativity seems to have gone out the back door. Ideas do not appeal; analysis evaporates into thin air. A cruel void, an eerie silence - very different from the pregnant silence that results from meditation - remains.

Sometimes I come to hope that a short walk in the midst of nature would help. But then I recall that some of us have made every effort to corrupt nature with the concrete jungle, the exhaust fumes, the plastic roses, the contamination, and the incessant din. We have replaced the beauty of nature with all our filth. A short walk amidst those could only make matters worse; it might even be fatal!

If I ever bring myself to publish this article on my blog, it would be to record this disgusting affliction, for which I have not yet found an effective therapy, short of endurance. It would also be to record evidence to the fact that I did not go down without a fight.

And at this point, words do fail me. But I tried.

I tried.


:
:

Salutations

Humble salutations to the opulent canvas of cognition, where thoughts, awareness and perceptions paint impressive shadows. The vibrant shadows come alive and engage in an animated dance, inspired by the founding factors. They appear so real that they are often mistaken for the absolute.

They are often construed as the origin of such distinctions as likes and dislikes, good and bad, love and hatred. Misconstrued, that is. Polar concepts appeal to the uneducated rationale. The sword of logic terminally severs the Truth.

Humble salutations to the laboratory of the human mind, where the simplest of facts are proudly broken into most complex equations. Complexity seems to be more easily palatable, and more acceptable, than simplicity!

The need of the hour is a simple realization that the observer, the observation and the observed are but a cohesive and indivisible unit, that relative fluctuations and distinctions are mere illusions, and that discrimination - bipolar or otherwise - is a ludicrous folly, an absurdity!

That would be demystification, indeed. After that, nothing would matter. Until such time however, my earnest attempts will be scoffed at. Not that I am left with any choice in that regard.


Cheers!

Beware of Kids!

Little Bobby (seven) was in love with Little Susie (same age) who lived next door.

One day, Bobby went to Susie's dad and announced (as seriously as he could), "I'm in love with Susie, and we're getting married".

Amused, Susie's dad started asking questions (in the hopes to discourage the idea).

Susie's dad: "Where will you live?"

Bobby: "Well, Susie has a playhouse in the back yard, so we're gonna live there."

Susie's dad: "How are you going to make money to support her?"

Bobby: "Well, Susie gets 75 cents a week, and I get $1.25 a week." "That should be more than enough!"

Seeing that Bobby was still serious, Susie's dad asked, "Well, what about children?"

Bobby perked up and quickly answered, "Oh, we have that figured out already. Whenever Susie lays an egg, I'm gonna stomp on it!"
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The little boy greeted his grandmother with a hug and said, "I'm so happy to see you grandma. Now maybe daddy will do the trick he has been promising us."

The grandmother was curious. "What trick is that my dear," she asked.

The little boy replied, "I heard daddy tell mommy that he would climb the fucking walls if you came to visit us again."
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An eight-year-old boy was charged with the rape of a grown woman, and though the crime seemed highly improbable, the state's evidence was overwhelming. As a last, desperate move, the defense counsel came over to the witness stand, pulled down the client's pants, and grabbed the boy's tiny penis for all to see.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the lawyer cried, turning toward the jury box, "surely you cannot believe that such a small, still undeveloped organ is sexually mature?"

Growing more agitated he went on, "How could this miniature member be capable even of erection, let alone the rape of a fully grown woman-"

"Watch it, mister," whispered the kid, "One more shake and you'll lose the case."
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Tommy, Johnny and Harry were standing around bullshitting about how tough their fathers were.

"My dad went 12 rounds with Mike Tyson. Lick that!" said young Harry.

"Well, my dad did two tours of Vietnam and killed 19 men... so lick that!" Tommy said.

"That's nothing!" declared little Johnny. "My dad hasn't wiped his ass in 10 years... so lick that!"
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Cheers!