Simplicity

Simplicity...something we, as self perceived intellectuals abhor wholeheartedly must be looked upon once again.

Occam's Razor does not mean that the simplest solution is always true...Moreover true reductionism is not always possible.

In the preface to the second edition of 'The Story Of Philosophy', author Will Durant writes 'The worst sin of all-though the critics do not seem to have noticed it-was the omission of Chinese and Hindu Philosophy...'

The aversion seems to have sprung from the banal intelligibility of Confucius,Buddha and Shankara et al.

He writes further'...But we "moderns" have become so accustomed to windy verbiage that when philosophy is presented without the verbiage we can with difficulty recognize it.'

"...he is disreputably intelligible; and nothing could be so damaging to a philosopher...' he adds.

But if you haven't noticed before...the best things in life are simple.

The best things in life are simple,but only in a reductionist sense of view, for even a superficially simple phenomenon may have a complex mechanisms behind it and revealing the apparent complexity will simply make it ...well ...simply no longer the best.

Yes...one must not confuse topicality with simplicity.

Years later, I once again climbed on my mango tree.

Back then, things were simple.We spent endless summer days playing under the hot sun,without a worry or a drop of sunscreen.We never wore helmets,knee-guards,elbow pads while cycling.There was no safety net when we swung from a rope tied  atop the guava tree on my neighbours backyard.

We didn't have computers,internet or cellphones...I took the cycle to my school, parked it with the rest of the cycles.We played in the mud, got dirty,bruised and tired.A cold glass of lemonade awaited us at the end of the day.

So as I used to do, once upon a time, as a kid(was it that long ago?), I climbed on my mango tree.I'm not as nimble as I used to be, and I had to struggle and heave myself to get up...also, the branches groaned unkindly now that I weighed much more in my adulthood.

I plucked a few tender mangoes...green and pungent in aroma...an aroma such that it would render you to salivate as you imagined the taste of the delicious yet sour flesh of the tender mango.

Tender mango diced into small cubes,a generous helping of salt and chili powder and a tablespoon of coconut oil to tamp down the fiery heat of the chillipowder...My exquisitely delicious Mango Pacchadi was ready...which was the staple diet of kids everywhere in our city in the summers.

Each bite of the fiery salty sourness took me back to places I  had not been for a long time...Memories made me nostalgic once again, as I saw a fresh bunch of kids spend their summer vacations in our otherwise sleepy neighbourhood.

But I refrained myself from repeating the old lies that 'those days were better than what you have now'.

Those days were different.

I'm not the Ben 10,Bey blade,Pokemon generation.

I'll never be it no matter how much I try to immerse myself or understand.

For all practical purposes, there exists a threshold of understanding, which we have conveniently termed as 'Generation gap'...because what appears simple to these kids is confoundedly complex to us...and the chasm of understanding is widening as we speak.

The mango pacchadi tasted the best when it had no more than 3 ingredients...But Why So? is another question, something not to be pondered upon.

But...things are neither better nor worse...they are simply different and as the french say

C'est la vie...

Kappe Chronicles

Once upon a time there existed in the small city of mangalore ,a group of friends :Kappe the frog, Pendulum,Gunny Sack,Madfartingcow,Madhubala,Mashi the buffalo,Alien rich guy(from mars), Alien Bully (from jupiter),and the unintended twins.
        I was one of the unintended twins.
We were unintended twins because we were born of two different sets of parents , on different days and were in no way genetically similar.
But after a quick glance anyone would  almost always asked the much hated question ...

"Hey , Are you both twins? "
No...

NO...

NOOOOOOOOOOO !

                       But this is not the story of the unintended twins nor it is of the Pendulum who was also Gadha the ass, or Gunny Sack a timid introvert who went on to become the greatest seducer of the world or Madfartingcow who was mad about Madhuri Dixit , or Madhubala who always tailed madfartingcow or Mashi the buffalo(so many ruminants !) or the interplanetary rivalry between aliens or the non-sexual S/M relationship between the other unintended twin and the Alien Rich Guy(from mars)

                                          This is, as requested , a story about Kappe the frog.Kappe the frog was my friend, neighbour and classmate.Kappe was the middle child with two brothers , one older and one younger.I met Kappe recently.He is still the same, slightly taller , but otherwise the same.Cancer had claimed his mother a year ago, and that was all I knew about him.

                          I  must add that this is not a story about  Boofsie, who thought the word 'Boofsie' was the ultimate swear word , but never realized that what he was repeating over and over again was a corruption of the word 'Boobs', which could mean either a certain variety of birds, or a couple of idiots or the usual breasts.Alas, unfortunately his efforts to popularise it as the de facto swear word got him his nick name "Boofsie"
                               I must add that Boofsie had an unhealthy male body builder fixation.When not talking about lats and pecs and triceps and biceps , he would draw extremely muscular men and drool over them.Boofsie sat next to me.I was terrified of him.But fortunately he believed that brahmins(a priestly class caste)  like me had the power to curse and make those curses come true.So I was safe due to a superstition.
                                                         This is not the story of Moojikaas,or Threepenny who was Boofsie's friend, who would just before lunch time stick a spoon up his crotch and then sniff it languorously, while inviting us to join .
Urrrk!...I just lost my appetite.Moojikaas kept his distance from me because he too believed in my ability to inflict curses.In a way it is strange for people to believe that I have psychic abilities, or that I have had an out of body experience.It ain't true fellas ! I'm just making  monkeys out of ya !

Some other day I'll tell you about the splendid fights between Kappe the frog and Pregnant boy, who got his moniker in grade six after he went on saying that he was 3 months pregnant and had a cat in his stomach.
That was just an excuse.
In reality he was just  fat and had a spare gut tyre.

Pregnant Boy got another moniker which was really popular-Hipgenda -a mythical chimera , formed due to the unholy union of a hippo and a Genda or a Rhino.This nickname was also becase of his corpulent body.
                              These verbal sparring duels went on for hours and we would egg each of them, and the help them come up with creative yet obscene insults that each would deliver and outdo each other.The verbal duels kept us  entertained for hours , during free periods ,lunch hours and toilet breaks.

                                            There are simply too many stories to be told.Kappe and the building episode, Kappe and the bunking, Kappe comes up with BBC,The song of Neskappe to name a few.
                                                                   Memories are strange in that way.As I take a look around, back into the past, I find that everything is illuminated, an ethereal luminescence affects everything I see.Things are clear and fuzzy at the same time.Its clear to me now that Boofsie would become gay later in life(unverified) or that Alien Rich Guy got his pleasure from repeatedly rejecting friendship offers from my unintended twin the same way my unintended twin got his pleasure from begging Alien Rich Guy for a morsel of his friendship.It was definitely S/M but in a non-sexual way, but it is hard for me to remember my own nickname-was it Tricky Vicky, or WeakAss, or pickass ?

When does a story really end or Where does a a story end ?Does it end with the protagonist living happily ever after , or does it end with his eventual death , or simply when there is nothing more left to say?
I think the story ends when the chronicler gives up, because without the storyteller there is no story.So as a chronicler , it is my duty to inform you that memories are fallible.So are men(and women).

Intangibles areo fragile things that are as strong as their creators and have that strange malleable quality with which one can marginalize events that he deems not so important or embellish ones that he likes, or to bend events with sheer will and recreate  past.
                           Thus Kappe chronicles exist solely in the hearts and minds of the chroniclers of past,and are in every sense fallible and prone to error.This is my disclaimer , my narrative exigency because events may or may not have occured in the same way I remember them.

So let us end this chronicle with the Birth of a Kappe or  frog.
Kappe the frog , who is now a med rep among other things was my neighbour and my friend.

It was on an endless summer,when we were playing cricket till dusk ,that Kappe the frog was born.I remember the precise moment as though it happened yesterday.(so cliched don't you think ?)
The bowler lobbed a lazy ball up to a very determined batsman.
The batsman attacked hungrily and lofted the ball high above into the now dying sun.
Kappe who was not yet Kappe , stood underneath , anticipating the parabolic path of the ball as it accelerated towards the earth.
Kappe who was not yet Kappe , in total concentration, had cupped his palms like a yawning reptile and at the same time kept his mouth open as if he could catch it in his mouth instead of his hands.
The ball accelerated downwards at a rate of 9.8 metres per second squared not knowing that it had a major role to play in the history of making of a Kappe who was not yet Kappe.
Plop fell the ball into Kappe's who was not yet Kappe's hands, and as he caught it , his wide open mouth shut as if he had caught the ball in his mouth and his fingers curled around the ball, securing it , and the batsman left the field cursing the jubilant Kappe who was not yet Kappe.
His teammates congratulated him and they celebrated as the smell of sweat,mud and victory was in  the air.

All this was marred by a single voice.
It said "Shit ! he looked like a Kappe, like a frog when he caught that ball"

Thus Kappe the frog was born.

What do you get for a boy who has everything ?

20/11/2007

19:57

(It is a surreal scene.A father and son -trying out skirts and then arguing about tastes , styles and complimenting colours.Loudly.)

Then I say "Dad, did you know today's my birthday ?"

"Are you sure?" Dad asks , clearly alarmed "Isn't it the day after tomorrow ?"

(Meet dad.

Absent minded but sweet .He usually confuses his wedding day of december 22nd with my birthday of Nov 20th.

As a result , we get an amalgamation ...Nov 22nd is usually my birthday in his mind .)

"Mom !" I say , with whom we are simultaneously having a conversation on phone "Ask Dad why he doesn't know when his only child was born !...ASK HIM ! ASK HIM NOW !"

"Ok , Ok ...I'm sorry  I forgot...Er...All the best son...."Says dad , feebly shaking my hand.

"Dad !"I say"You are supposed to say something like 'Many happy returns of the day ' or simply 'happy B'day son ' or something like that, and NOT All the best son "

"Doh !" says Dad.

"MEN !" Mom and I say in unison !

"Son , " says dad"let me buy you something for your b'day...what do you want ?"

"Dad ....I want nothing...really...And if you really want to get me something, try surprising me sometime okay ?"

"There lies the problem son" says dad "There's one thing we , as your parents never figured out.What do you get for a boy who has everything ?"

In retrospect , I must have been a strange kid.Completely self contained and content.

Unfathomable.... the way I derived pleasure from the simplest of the things.

Often as a kid, soap bars and cereal boxes kept me entertained for hours.I would weave stories around imaginary characters in far off lands.Although there was no drought of toys , I was satisfied with whatever simple toys  I had or invented.

My growth must have seemed strange too.Strangely adiabatic...independent of the outside world.

In my parents defence, I must admit that they have atleast tried.I loved to sing right from my childhood.So one b'day , dad got me a wireless microphone.

As with all things , dad tried cost cutting with the microphone.As a result , I ended up with an inferior product of questionable origins which hissed and crackled incessantly.My singing was constantly interspersed with white noise and static.

I hated it and I wasn't very subtle about expressing my hatred and disappointment.

That was the last present I ever got !

My countless relatives , whose children who were showered with gifts by my parents didn't even try to reciprocate.....

..........because.......

.....What do you get for a boy who has everything ?

They didn't know and didn't bother to try.

Post B'day Blues

21/11/2007

20:22

"So what do you want for your b'day ?" sweetly asked my best friend.

"Nothing " I said laconically and added "Nothing at all "

"But let me make it easier for you.I'll tell you what I want for my next b'day and it wont even cost you a penny !"

"Its so hard buying gifts for guys you know ?" she said....

"Yeah , I know ...especially guys like me....What do you get for a boy who has everything ?"I muttered under my breath.

But then she bit her lip , started frowning while looking down.

That , from all the years I have known her , was a sign that she was thinking furiously.

And , she looked so damn cute while doing that !

Sure enough , she said "I'm thinking Yaar....for something Hatke....you know something different...."

For Once I had no doubt that she would truly surprize me.

 

P.s

Surely , there must be a logical explanation for two men trying out skirts and arguing about them.

We weren't exactly trying them out, you see...we merely held them against our waists to ascertain their length.

But Why ?

Elementary , my dear watson ....We were buying it for mom , while she was giving us instructions via phone.

Dad and I are poorly compatible as shopping mates.

We had so many differences that instead of buying one skirt and one top , we ended up buying 3 skirts and 2 tops !

Lucky Mom !(Or unlucky )

Tagged :Dog Whisperer

Its a common sight to see me walk on the streets and to have dogs coming to me ,
wagging their tails , jumping on me and licking my hands.I've never seen these dogs
before...we are practically strangers, yet there is familiarity.

Oh ! If you think I feed these dogs , you'd be dead wrong.Dogs need not be bribed for a
friendship.A pat on the head is all they get.

When I take Moti (My dog) on walks, it is a familiar sight to see many of moti's
friends coming up to me and chatting me up.The locals have gotten used to the sight of
a boy surrounded by 8-9 dogs at a time , all clamoring to get his attention.



I once thought that this was a local phenomenon, restricted to my local city of
mangalore...but when I saw it repeat at different locations of the country I realized what I had become.A Dog Whisperer.

We, as a family might seem strange to others.
We incessantly talk with animals.
Though what people find strange is that the animals actually respond to us , as if they understand us.Similarly , to an outsider , we seem to talk their language, because dogs actually talk to us (they have a low growl/howl mix)

The credit goes to Moti.A lifetime spent observing and interpreting Moti .Every action, expression , nuance had some meaning.It was just a matter of getting it right.And with time , we did get most of it right.Now Moti and I could talk.

Right from the time I was a kid , I was obsessed with dogs.
I was never allowed to have one, so I would play for hours with my neighbour's dog.

In fact , it was the exasperated neighbours who not so mildly asked my mom to get me a
dog.(I was spending too much time at his house !)

Moti almost never made it home.
In 7th grade , on a holiday , I picked up a pup from a small nest where 2 bitches had
had 13 pups.They were street mongrels , not thoroughbreds.

I picked a pup at random and ran back home , excited, only to find that the pup had a
bent tail(a tail bent the other way).Mom wanted me to return the pup.She didn't want
any pets at home.
But it was love at first sight...I would not let go of this 22 day old angel of a puppy
that had tiny floppy ears , a stubby mouth , white stockinged feet and a bent tail.

I christened him Moti  (Literally meaning "Pearl"),  his full name being "Moti
Vajradanthi " (or "Pearly Teeth strong as diamonds") and he has been with us ever
since then.

Hazed , Dazed but Unfazed.

"OK .NOW WITH YOUR RIGHT HAND , YOU WILL CUP YOUR BALLS.FIRMLY ! LIKE THIS !"He showed us grabbing his own scrotum pulling it impossibly high and waving it around, "AND , EXTEND THE MIDDLE FINGER OF YOUR LEFT HAND AND STICK IT IN , LIKE THIS !"


Whaaaat ! Stick it in where ?.... Oh No ! Not there !

This was going to be a very looong night.

YOU ! " He shouted , brow knotted and nose flaring."ALL YOU JUNIORS , LISTEN UP ! THIS IS YOUR FIRST DAY IN THIS ACADEMY AND WE , AS YOUR SUPER-SENIORS WILL TEACH YOU WHAT IT IS LIKE TO BE AN OFFICER"

His last name was Wagh , which meant Tiger.I heard a collective gulp of fear from my batchmatess.We felt like lambs up for slaughter!

"WE HERE IN THIS GRAND OLD INSTITUTION HAVE TO FOLLOW TRADITIONS! " Wagh kept hollering "Traditions are important for a sailor , and doubly important for an officer."

"LETS BEGIN THE INITIATION "Wagh shouted once again.

Out of nowhere two burly guys came and took two of us on to the podium.

We were in a dazed state of mind.
It was the middle of the night.

We had come to our training institute that very morning after a very long and tiring journey.Once in the isolated campus , we underwent registration and collecting our study material and going to our hostels.
Man , we were bushed .We were supposed to wake up at five AM , but some guys came up and woke all of us up in the middle of the night.Damn , I was pissed.


Wagh , our tiger with flaring nostrils continued..."Now we begin our initiation with our traditional song...repeat after me , while cupping your balls and your finger stuck firmly inside...AATOO MAATOO JHAATOO"

We sang in chorus... "Aato maatoo jhaatoo "

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU ! "

"AATOO MAATOO JHAATOO "

"That's much better !" said Wagh .

"AATOO. MAATOO. JHAATOO."
"L*ND. KA. MAKKHAN. "
"CH@#T. KA. DHAKKAN. "

"MEIN. APNE. SADE. HUE. L*ND. KE
KASAM. KA. KE. KEHTA. HOON .KI....."

It was a dirty limerick (please don't ask me to translate) , which we later found out that had been in existence for merely the last four years instead of the wildly exaggerated one hundred fifty years which our seniors had led us to believe.

I still remember standing there , cupping and fingering.Thank god I didn't know what the limerick meant back then , because back in those days I was one of the goody-goody boys who never swore and said any bad words.

The night was far from over...

"Look at my balls " a senior had just asked a timid looking fresher.When the timid boy would not look , he would be goaded and threatened .No sooner than the boy would look south , the senior would accuse him of being gay and say that he actually wanted the fresher to look into his eyeballs.

Some of us were asked to dance.We were asked to do dirty dancing , to make it as lusty and vulgar as possible , while the rest of us were made to sit and watch.The ones who were sitting were expressly forbidden to laugh at the ones who were dancing.The unfortunate ones that could not contain their laughter would be forced to join and participate in the dance.

I can't help it when there's something funny going on.Imagine watching a bunch of sleepy boys in their pajamas, dirty dancing , shaking their booty , swaying their hips , pouting and heaving non-existant boobs all over .

I laughed.

No .

Not only did I laugh , I guffawed , chortled and snorted like the little piggy that went to the market.I couldn't help it.I simply couldn't help it.

I was caught .In the next few minutes , two burly seniors would be hauling a very reluctant man on to the stage, and I would be , for the first time in my life , dirty dancing on a stage.

Brace yourself as this could turn ugly.

Anyone who knows a little about me , knows that I cannot dance.If there is anything in life at which I've miserably failed in , then that is Dancing.Dancing is greek to me , no it's more like esperanto ! I know how complicated dancing is...Your legs and hands move in unison and in different direction at the same time.The logistics of dancing are simply too mind boggling to a simpleton like me.Bad dancers usually have two left feet , but in my case , I had two left feet and two left hands and two cold un cooperating feet.

I know how complicated dancing is.wHICH IS WHY I RESPECT DANCERS or people who can move their body to the music and do it in a non-disgusting manner.

So there I was , on the stage , petrified and ordered by my seniors to look sexy while dancing.

Whatever that meant !

"DANCE " came a catcall "Shake your Boobs...shake it , shake it baby "

At this point , still frozen on the stage , I considered telling my seniors that as a guy I had no boobs to speak of and therefore would be unable to shake them , but this was not the time to act smart .
And thus I began dancing to a bunch of poker faced classmates.

To be continued...

LETS GET READY TO RRRUUUMMMBBLLEE :the cockroach saga

My Bio teacher put her hand into the unholy jar of corpses and picked a nice juicy little cockroach.The class was divided into 2 groups and each group would be shown the dissection.
Thus began the dissection...
The underside of the wings were pinned to the dissection plate.

'The legs are removed , actually plucked one by one , pluck...pluck ...pluck...pluck...pluck...hey this cockroach was disabled ...see Only five plucks ...disabled ..Get it ? , get it ? '

We groaned at her bad joke (It didn't even qualify as a joke )


'....and additional pins were inserted at the base of the wings. Once the cockroach is securely fastened to the plate, the side or ventral cuts along the abdomen are made to remove the exoskeleton....'

The fat body was teased apart with forceps and removed to expose the internal organs more clearly.Cockroach fat is white , blubbery and slimy , doesn't easily get off your hands.And guess what they would not provide us with gloves.

Someone whispered 'ummm...yummy ! ' and one of the girls started heaving (It is always the fat ugly girls that starts heaving , the pretty ones know how to faint and fall gently into the arms of the boys they like ! )



And then she began to drone...

'The most noticeable system of organs we see once the fat body is removed is the digestive system. The major structures include the crop, gastric caeca, midgut, Malpighian tubules and hindgut.
The crop, an enlargement of the foregut, serves as temporary storage for undigested food. Digestion of complex sugars begins in the foregut. Gastric caeca (pronounced 'seeka'), the elongated pouches at the beginning of the midgut, contain bacteria which aid in digestion.

The midgut is the primary area for digestion and absorption. Contents from the midgut and Malpighian tubules empty into the hindgut, where final resorption of water, salts, and nutrients from the feces and urine takes place before excretion.

The Malpighian tubules are actually the primary organs of the excretory system. Their function is to remove nitrogen-containing wastes and regulate water and salts in an insect's blood, called hemolymph....'

I did my best to suppress the yawns .

This was going to be one loooong practiccals class!

'Students ! ' she thundered ' Each of you will be given one cockroach and one cockroach only'
'And this will be your only chance where you will perform a dissection under supervision ' she continued 'so keep that mind' which was an ultimatum basically saying 'buddy , this is your only chance to slice and dice a cockroach , so DON'T SCREW IT UP !'

So the moment of truth had arrived .

drum rolls please ...

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN , CHILDREN OF ALL AGES , KEEP YOUR DISSECTION BOARDS AND YOUR DISSECTION KITS READY.
GET READY TO RRRRRUUUUUUMMMMBBBBBLLLLEEE.....

And the lab assistant began distributing dead cockroaches like they were sweets distributed to children on National Holidays.

To be continued...

Joe is Dead , Long live Melissa :The cockroach saga

Feeding Joe was no easy task.I had to open the jam jar lid , and put something in and quickly close the lid before it got out.Sure , Once or twice joe rogan got out (I named the cockroach Joe Rogan , kind of a revenge on fear factor for making people crunch and munch cockroaches and beetles and other nasty bugs.)

Each time it got out , i'd run to mom and ask her to catch it again.It was then I hit upon the Idea of slipping a mickey to Joe.I'd give him a piece of Rum cake dipped in rum .What I didn't know was that rum vapours would suffocate and ultimately kill Joe.
On monday morning I noticed that Joe was still, very still , not like your average cockroach , you know, not even cleaning his feelers.
I shook the jam jar and found that Joe was no more.He had gone to cockroach heaven ...

(I always imagined the cockroach heaven to be like a giant unending sewer with no sign of bug sprays or those stinky cockroach traps .Heaven would be named "Roach Motel " with 'Hotel california ' being played in the backgraound forever. The roaches would have a fresh supply of delicacies from all over the world , fresh slime , rotting meat, maggots oh..those yummy maggots , shit plenty of shitty shit of all varieties ...hard shit , loose shit , constipated shit , high fibre shit , stinky shit , shit that actually smell good,, well this was heaven , so anything was possible )

I was in a quandary.I was growing attached to Joe, like he was my pet ,most probably an offshoot of the stockholm syndrome , and now he was dead ,just like everybody else in my life,tara (my tarantula ), felix (my cat ) and now Joe.

Moreover, Tomorrow I'd have to get a cockroach for the dissection.

Tomorrow...tomorrow ...tomorrow ...Echoed in my mind.

'Mom...'

'Yes...'

'Mom , Joe passed away ... Its OK , I'm ok , I buried him ...er...Flushed him away...I'm sure he'll go to Roach Motel and be happy there... I think He OD'd on booze... atleast he ....'
I broke off


'Say what ?' Mom was half listening , half watching The Bold and the Beautiful.

'Son , make it quick ..Mommy's watching T.V..'

'Mom , I need you to catch me another cockroach...'

A loud audible sigh later she agreed .


So , thus I got Melissa , It was a she cockroach as she didn't have those horny projections that Joe had at his ass, which was a sure sign of manliness apart from the obvious !

Joe is dead , long live Melissa !

Melissa was mom's Idea, It was the time when millions of servers crashed thanks to The Melissa Virus and pandemonium ensued throughout the world.

Well my mild mannered , somewhat shy and reserved Melissa was a brave volunteer for the advancement of science, though not by her own choice.

Well days rolled on like empty tumbleweed on a hot dry desert, and tuesday snuck up without informing .Tuesday ; the day of reckoning had snuck up like a sniper with the intent to kill .

Melissa was given a treat for this was her last day on earth, a piece of cake in exchange for her life.I bet she'd received better bargains in her life before.

Mom did not believe in the soul or in reincarnation(Once you're dead ...You're DEAD ! mom would always say) , so neither did I .
So this goodbye would be the last goodbye melissa would receive along with a piece of cake for her brave sacrifice.

Melissa you can have your cake and eat it too ! Haw-haw

The lab assistant took melissa away before I asked for forgiveness from her.Melissa was thrown into a huge glass jar along with all the other cockroaches.Here among hundreds of her own kind she had attained anonymity.Thank god for that , for I'd never be able to butcher poor melissa.The glass jar was filled with poison gas so that all the cockroaches would die .It was like the gas chambers of the holocaust , but for cockroaches ...
Death is a sharp medicine , but a sound cure for all diseases and all sorrows.
As the bluish grey mist of death diffused into the gas chamber ,I offered a silent prayer in my mind.
'promise me solemnly , that you will find a world beyond this grave , and find everlasting happiness there'

Would Melissa's soul (which did not exist ) diffuse away from her body as the mist of death entered into it through her pores ?
Or would it be ejected furiously , in protest against this untimely and undignified death?

I wish I had the answers ...

Melissa , along with hundreds of her kind died that day .I hope it was a painless and quick Death.


To be continued

Twilightscapes

Majestic Circle , this is the centre of bangalore .

Hey , N-80 does take OK pics at low light conditions !

Cockroach Man

I love spiders , even the creepy crawly ones with hairy legs and wolf like teeth.Its all thanks to stan lee and his spider man.I even had a pet spider , which died.The cat ate it and then the cat died.It was a sad sad day for me.
I always wanted a tarantula , but found out that tarantulas are rare , and found deep in the jungles and I was just a city boy who still didn't know that milk came from cow-titties , which are not sexy to look at... , so I had to abandon my mission-to -hunt - tarantulas -and get -it -as -my pet scheme .
I loved spiders so much that at home I have forbidden people from killing spiders and removing cobwebs.Anyone found killing spiders would get a stern lecture on compassion for other living creatures and another lecture on how Spiders are important for the ecosystem.
I even bought artificial cobwebs for halloween, the use of which mom forbade and threatened to throw me out of the house if these cobwebs found their way on her clean walls and ceilings.

I wish stan lee or some other comic book genius had created a Cockroach Man.

Cockroach man, cockroach man,
does what all a cockroach can,
eats the crap from garbage cans
Sewers are where he makes his stand
Watch out! Here comes the Cockroach man !!!!


Hmmm...I see a marketing problem here...


I hate to admit it , but I'm freaked out by cockroaches.Almost everyone has seen cockroaches.Those reddish ones that you see at home and those screeching black ones you see people munching on Fear Factor , for a promise of 15 minutes of fame and possibly a booty of fifty-thou' smackeroos.
They all have that characteristic broad , flattened bodies and long antennae and some have those filmy reddish brown wings .

In fact , it was mom , who convinced me that all colas are made of cockroach juice.To prove it she would hold a cola bottle in the light and show me that the colour was the same as that of a cockroach's .(No brand names people, they might sue my mom )
Hell, She made sure that I'd never succumb to Satan's Stuff to enslave impressionable minds , namely kids.(That's what she called colas and sodas and fast food ; no wonder I'm so thin !)

Cockroach; the word triggered panic in those days.It all began when I was still a kinder-gartner, about 4 years old ... did you ever wonder how most of us are fcuked up because of events in our childhood.Any event will have positive or negative outcome , but the full extent of the effect these events will be realised only in the future when it is too late and you are paying a lot of money to sleep on a couch and talk about your relationship with your mom to a shrink dressed like freud.
Its Chaos Theory in acting in full force, like a hurricane ripping through wooden slats in your roof , while you have tied yourself up in the basement with rations but with no foreseeable knowledge of what's going to happen.

Who knew that withholding chocolates and candies from robbie when he was three would make him a psychopath who dresses like a female stripper and kills his marks while calling himself candy - the sweet -ass-candy ?
A lesson learnt in parenthood , don't name your kid 'robbie' or deprive him of his chocolates .See what happened to willy wonka .

But this was far worse , for a dark cockroach with translucent wings flew around me and then decided to take a grand tour of my body -without -a-ticket, you'll be -arrested-or -worse -you'll be killed -if you go where the sun don't shine.
After the aerial reconnaissance , the cockroach decided to enter the 2 foot building that was me through the left foot entrance.Sure , when the cockroach is buzzing around you , no one , I-mean- NO-ONE says a thing , but Ooh , the cockroach wants to go in his PJ's , so everybody scream ...thus a scream and panic-fest ensued, and left me dancing like a bare foot man who had stepped on dog-poo , wildly kicking , screaming , along with the rest of the family, and then I blacked out , hyperventilating into oblivion.It turns out that while I passed out, they had stripped me off my PJ's and murdered the cockroach for committing the offence of trying to explore the nether worlds where the sun has never shone , a region , which , in the future , would have permission to be explored by girlfriends/wife/wives who were pre-approved by the family , lest they suffer the same fate as the dead cockroach.

For years , the fear was there , lurking somewhere beneath the facade of normalcy , until I decided to take up Biology.
Biology ; Why ?
As I told you before, I love animals, one of my lame fantasies being that I was Dr.Doolittle and I was surrounded by drunk capuchin monkeys and wise cracking mangy mutts and tigers that needed brain surgeries.Did I mention to you that i'm a trekkie too, you know just to make sure You understand that I was a complete geek and still am.

Frog dissections were officially banned for high-schoolers (thank god for animal activists), and dogs were dissected by practising vets , so the only thing left to slice-and -dice was the good old cockroach.

The Bio teacher , also our sex-ed teacher , who had sent me to the headmaster for snickering at the definitions of penis and vagina(someone had shouted out that 'Tom's dick is harry', to which I had unfortunately snickered ) , told the class strictly that everyone would have to get their own cockroach for the dissection, or else fail the Bio Practicals .

Brr..did the classroom just get colder or were those goosebumps due to something else ?
The prospect of catching a cockroach was something else .It brought out all the demons hiding somewhere in a closet in the cob web filled attic of may brain.

C'mon be a MAN ! Cockroaches don't bite !

I had to admit it , I was being a wuss !

No! I'm not a wuss...

Ha ! a wuss is a wuss is a WUSS, even with a black belt which he wore and pretended that he was the next karate kid , though he had quit after 2 karate lessons thanks to aching knuckles and sore and tender hamstrings.

Most of the boys were happy , and soon they all began to boast and bet on the most number of cockroaches to be caught by a single student.

The girls , just like me , were visibly upset.

I can empathasize with you girls ...I thought, but the girls were quick to go to their favourite guys and ask them to get a cockroach for them.Cockroaches were making the most disgusting boys suddenly popular with the girls.
I knew this sudden surge of popularity would last only till the end of Bio practicals.
Guess how any girls came to ask me to catch a cockroach ....none ! :-p
It was a matter of life and death and pride.I'd have to get over my fear of the cockroaches and catch myself a big one which would then be hacked open and its guts would be served to my enemies ! Haw Haw Haw ...I tried to psyche myself , but without any success.

I Knew there was an easy way out of it...Then I found it.

'MOOOOM ! Can you catch me a cockroach ...?

Mom , wise in the ways of the world , had always wanted a girl(because all men are pigs by default ), but instead wound up with Me !(she loved me though , at least that's what she told me )

Hey mom , you got your wish now , I scream like a girl when I see a cockroach.

'Awww ... still a-scared of the widdle wad cockwoach ?' mom asked teasingly , turning the knife handle a bit in my back.

' Mom ...You Know I hate baby-talk...I'm not six you know ! '

'Ok...baby , you'll get your cockroach , but you have to give your old gal a kiss now...'

'MOOOM !' was all I could scream in protest , but I had to do what I had to do ...


Moms sure are weird creatures ...they generate so much love and hatred at the same time ,! i thought it was impossible to hate and love a person so much.But I did , when ever she gave the knife a turn .

She has a knife that she turns every now and then , but sometimes she saves the knife turning for some special occasions...Like the time when the guests had come , and then she started with the baby photos.
"Awww..look at my baby...isn't he a darling ? This was him , all naked , this was when he was 2 "

BAM!

Steeee-riiiii-ke One !

"Yeah , he liked wearing those pink frocks and those cute ribbons , doesn't he look cute ?"
(Mom's revenge for me being a boy)

BAM !

Steeee-riiiii-ke Twooo !


"You know , my poor baby had this awful condition ...awful , he used to wet his bed till he was 12 "

BAM !

Steeee-riiiii-ke Threee !

Your'e OUT !

Sure Moms do that a lot.
Every mom has a knife driven deep in the back of her siblings.my mom's no diffrerent.Its as if she planted a knife in my back when I was born , and every now and then , she'll give it a turn.

Hey , I've seen all moms do the same .Some moms fret over their no-good kids who can't compete with the jones's kids who are prep school products who know the difference between a fish knife and a butter knife, while you are just too fat , too stupid , too girly (if You are a boy ), to tomboyish (if you are a girl ) and the frickin list goes on...

'Mom , I'll need the cockroach by tuesday...'

'Not to worry dear , I already caught one !'

Wow ! that was fast ,

I had to ask mom to put it in an old jam jar .

"you know , Its saturday , so , if you want your's alive till tuesday , you gotta feed it "

Mom , for some reason wouldn't feed it .She finally wanted to make a man out of me !
C'mon Maw , I ain't afraid of nuthin else...I'd tell her in my best southern texas accent.

'Infact , I ain't afraid of no frogs , coons, coyotes or bats...'

Bats , mom's achilles heel ...I had touched a sore spot .She wouldn't admit it , but bats freaked her out , and I loved bats (Thank you batman !).

In the end , I had to feed the cockroach , no matter what .

To be continued...