I am not very religiously inclined but even if I was I would be hard pressed to choose one which allowed me to practice my faith without fear of some sort of harm to my personal self. Let’s do a run down of some of the major ones …
Let’s start with my ‘birth religion’ as it were – Christianity. I go to a church and keep a nervous eye on the door for a bunch of ‘pro-my, anti-your religion’ hoodlums to come in and trash the place.
As for Hinduism – the very basic fear is that I go a place of worship and immediately have a claustrophobia attack and if not that, then someone with a claustrophobia attack will trigger a stampede that will bury instead of cremate me.
If I were a Muslim, I would be in constant fear of life and limb for reasons that need not be enunciated here. For all I know, one day I will be in a mosque imploring the blessings of Allah and the next thing I know is that a bomb has sent me to him.
The worst fate of all reserved for the religion I practise now. When I proclaim my religious inclination to member of a different faith, I get a ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ quizzical stare or a ‘poor chap will go to hell’ pitiful stare or a ‘better change your view or else’ dirty stare.
My religion is popularly called Atheism but one that I like to call Humanity – something that nobody practices. Well so far, so good …
If I could Wish Upon A Star
One for sorrow, two for joy, three for letter, four for toy. Every one of us has recited this rhyme at some time or the other in our life when we have happened to spy a mynah in one of these combinations. That, for me, is innocence at its peak. Much has been said about “innocence lost.” And much of that much is true.
A comic I was reading today reminded me of one of my absolute favouritest instance in my life – no surprise it was when I was a tiny-tot. I was with my aunt on her terrace at dusk. And the first star had just started winking at the earth. My aunt turned to me and asked, “do you know the star rhyme wish?” “No,” I said. She replied, “repeat after me...” So I closed my eyes tight and wished loudly with all my heart, “Start bright star light, first start I see tonight, I wish I get ...” And to my immense surprise, I got my ‘wish’ a few days later on my birthday.
Till today I make a wish if I happen to see the first star – though with no hope of it coming true. That is where the catch is. My aunt told me that evening that whatever I should want whatever I asked for with all my heart or else it won’t come true. No wonder then I still see terror attacks, poverty and a bank account that is sans a billion million rupees.
What would it take so that the next time we wish on that last sip of cold drink or a fallen eyelash or the first star, there is some hope of it coming true?
By the way, that night years ago, I had wished for a Street Hawk.
A comic I was reading today reminded me of one of my absolute favouritest instance in my life – no surprise it was when I was a tiny-tot. I was with my aunt on her terrace at dusk. And the first star had just started winking at the earth. My aunt turned to me and asked, “do you know the star rhyme wish?” “No,” I said. She replied, “repeat after me...” So I closed my eyes tight and wished loudly with all my heart, “Start bright star light, first start I see tonight, I wish I get ...” And to my immense surprise, I got my ‘wish’ a few days later on my birthday.
Till today I make a wish if I happen to see the first star – though with no hope of it coming true. That is where the catch is. My aunt told me that evening that whatever I should want whatever I asked for with all my heart or else it won’t come true. No wonder then I still see terror attacks, poverty and a bank account that is sans a billion million rupees.
What would it take so that the next time we wish on that last sip of cold drink or a fallen eyelash or the first star, there is some hope of it coming true?
By the way, that night years ago, I had wished for a Street Hawk.
Tring Tring
The buzzword or buzz phrase for some time now has been the rising price of oil, which one of my friends eloquently put in context saying, “Sala, Pamela ko dekh kar itna nahi utha hoga.” But has the price risen so high that it has hit even the price of your innocence?
I am not that old to forget that once upon a time when I was six my folks decided I should graduate from ‘garah number bus’ and I came to possess my first set of wheels – a spanking new hand-me-down Avon cycle.
That was what I rode around town on, had my first accident on, what I rode to the market to buy my first set of trump cards. That was what acted as one of the goalposts in our para football matches. That was my escape route whenever my mom found some reason to flex her vocal or arm muscles.
The best part was the maintenance. Even with pocket money of about “when you need money, ask and if the reason is satisfactory, ill give you,” I could maintain the bike. At the most, it required getting a spoke on the wheel when an over-exuberant ‘Pele-ka auald’ slammed the ball into the bike. Even then, if your mom was a good negotiator, the ‘Pele’ of afore-mentioned ‘Pele-ka auald’ would pay for it.
I could just ride around town for hours aimlessly and when I felt like it, race everything from a cat to an auto. Heck, it even could double up as Street Hawk if I so wished.
And now … Anti-cycling complaints range from “It’s too hot” to “It’s too far” with my personal favorite being, “I’ve forgotten!!”
As far as I know, there is no more environment-friendly mode of travel than a cycle. They’re cheap, don’t pollute the air, and provide more miles per calorie of energy than any other mode of getting around known to mankind.
Everybody’s wondering what they’re gonna do
Everything’s a mess and folks are feeling blue
If your troubles get you down so much you can’t abide
Get on that bicycle and ride
Yeah, get on that bicycle and ride
‘Neath the sunny skies or along the oceanside
Just ride, ride, ride, ride, ride
I am not that old to forget that once upon a time when I was six my folks decided I should graduate from ‘garah number bus’ and I came to possess my first set of wheels – a spanking new hand-me-down Avon cycle.
That was what I rode around town on, had my first accident on, what I rode to the market to buy my first set of trump cards. That was what acted as one of the goalposts in our para football matches. That was my escape route whenever my mom found some reason to flex her vocal or arm muscles.
The best part was the maintenance. Even with pocket money of about “when you need money, ask and if the reason is satisfactory, ill give you,” I could maintain the bike. At the most, it required getting a spoke on the wheel when an over-exuberant ‘Pele-ka auald’ slammed the ball into the bike. Even then, if your mom was a good negotiator, the ‘Pele’ of afore-mentioned ‘Pele-ka auald’ would pay for it.
I could just ride around town for hours aimlessly and when I felt like it, race everything from a cat to an auto. Heck, it even could double up as Street Hawk if I so wished.
And now … Anti-cycling complaints range from “It’s too hot” to “It’s too far” with my personal favorite being, “I’ve forgotten!!”
As far as I know, there is no more environment-friendly mode of travel than a cycle. They’re cheap, don’t pollute the air, and provide more miles per calorie of energy than any other mode of getting around known to mankind.
Everybody’s wondering what they’re gonna do
Everything’s a mess and folks are feeling blue
If your troubles get you down so much you can’t abide
Get on that bicycle and ride
Yeah, get on that bicycle and ride
‘Neath the sunny skies or along the oceanside
Just ride, ride, ride, ride, ride
You've Got Spam
I find it simply amazing how much my spam account knows about me – and I’m not talking trivia here. It’s personal stuff – bed room stuff even. It almost seems like I’m the most well-known, or rather most well-known-about person in cyberspace judging from the mails I get.
It started with a suggestively named female blondebitchsuck telling me that I owe her lunch “for this one.” I confess it piqued my curiosity and I wanted to know what I owe her lunch for then realized it was pretty obvious.
Then I got a mail from Rodriquez. I was tempted to open this one since my family on my mother’s side is named Rodrigues. I thought perhaps someone misspelled their name. And it seemed innocuous enough since it said “All w.e. can do is report_t he_findings.” I thought it must be some old forgotten relative who was talking about some ancestral property with me standing to gain a fortune.
The next mail cleared all doubts about the findings.
“what a stupid face you have here sa5ioh,” Des ganpath announced. That was one finding that was not needed to be made known – true or not.
Then along came a mail from Melany that cheered me up. “These girlies are waiting for you,” she declared. I had no clue which girlies but since my ‘stupid face’ was pretty well publicized by now, any girlie who was waiting for me was fine by me. I was not going to be picky. On top of that “Are you an Alpha Male?” Trimmel challenged.
Hell Yeah! Bring it on I said.
Then came the caveat – I found out that a stupid face was the least of my problems. There existed a serious chance that my lineage would end with me; that I would be the last of my kin; that my family tree was going to be uprooted because of my stump.
Luckily I was not the only one concerned. A lot of concern was floating around in cyberspace also. I got a lot of mails sympathizing with me and advising me what to do.
sm wrote, “I hope this will help you solve all problems with health!”
Levitar Vaigra helpfully said, “sa5ioh’s – we can ship your medication overnight FREE.”
“3 month supply of better intimate life is waiting for you” said Benedettasei sounding more hopeful than I felt. But that cheered me up.
The best mail was from holzmeister who solemnly promised, “You wont disappoint ehr this night.”
No further questions – that was the mail I was searching for.
It started with a suggestively named female blondebitchsuck telling me that I owe her lunch “for this one.” I confess it piqued my curiosity and I wanted to know what I owe her lunch for then realized it was pretty obvious.
Then I got a mail from Rodriquez. I was tempted to open this one since my family on my mother’s side is named Rodrigues. I thought perhaps someone misspelled their name. And it seemed innocuous enough since it said “All w.e. can do is report_t he_findings.” I thought it must be some old forgotten relative who was talking about some ancestral property with me standing to gain a fortune.
The next mail cleared all doubts about the findings.
“what a stupid face you have here sa5ioh,” Des ganpath announced. That was one finding that was not needed to be made known – true or not.
Then along came a mail from Melany that cheered me up. “These girlies are waiting for you,” she declared. I had no clue which girlies but since my ‘stupid face’ was pretty well publicized by now, any girlie who was waiting for me was fine by me. I was not going to be picky. On top of that “Are you an Alpha Male?” Trimmel challenged.
Hell Yeah! Bring it on I said.
Then came the caveat – I found out that a stupid face was the least of my problems. There existed a serious chance that my lineage would end with me; that I would be the last of my kin; that my family tree was going to be uprooted because of my stump.
Luckily I was not the only one concerned. A lot of concern was floating around in cyberspace also. I got a lot of mails sympathizing with me and advising me what to do.
sm wrote, “I hope this will help you solve all problems with health!”
Levitar Vaigra helpfully said, “sa5ioh’s – we can ship your medication overnight FREE.”
“3 month supply of better intimate life is waiting for you” said Benedettasei sounding more hopeful than I felt. But that cheered me up.
The best mail was from holzmeister who solemnly promised, “You wont disappoint ehr this night.”
No further questions – that was the mail I was searching for.
Short & Sweet?
Six degrees of separation. Or was it seven? Anyway a smaller world … with a shorter temper … and a whole new short form lingo. This blog was prompted by a friend who had a funny experience. He works for HP and was talking to a prospective landlord:
Landlord: Where do you work?
My friend: HP
Landlord: Oh nice, my son works there.
My friend: (In the hope of a discount on the deposit) Really? I just joined.
Landlord: Good good. Hope you people can do something about petrol prices.
My friend: Umm … Hmm … (Trying very hard to make the link)
Landlord: Where did you get your degree?
My friend: Blah Blah Institute of Technolgy.
Landlord: What do they teach you about oil there?
My friend: (thinking the house might not be worth it) Nothing.
Landlord: Then how did you get into HP.
My friend: (Blink Blink) I work for Hewlett Packard, not Hindustan Petroleum.
The point is that acronyms have become part of standard conversation and their usage has been boosted by SMS lingo – BRB, TTYL, BFN and other such short-forms that are harder to crack than hieroglyphics.
Names of companies: Understandably, Johnson & Johnson is JNJ and Bharat Heavy Electricals is BHEL, but Infosys to Infy?
Names of people: Leaves me wondering why parents bother with names at all when I hear the likes of SRK, JLo, Bebo, Chi Chi and K-Fed to name a few.
But when I hear objects being abbreviated, I lose all hope for the language - CalC, Ciggy, Undie, Mobike.
Do people not have time to finish a word, leave alone a sentence?
Maybe you don’t have time to finish reading this post.
Maybe it is all a bunch of BS anyway.
Landlord: Where do you work?
My friend: HP
Landlord: Oh nice, my son works there.
My friend: (In the hope of a discount on the deposit) Really? I just joined.
Landlord: Good good. Hope you people can do something about petrol prices.
My friend: Umm … Hmm … (Trying very hard to make the link)
Landlord: Where did you get your degree?
My friend: Blah Blah Institute of Technolgy.
Landlord: What do they teach you about oil there?
My friend: (thinking the house might not be worth it) Nothing.
Landlord: Then how did you get into HP.
My friend: (Blink Blink) I work for Hewlett Packard, not Hindustan Petroleum.
The point is that acronyms have become part of standard conversation and their usage has been boosted by SMS lingo – BRB, TTYL, BFN and other such short-forms that are harder to crack than hieroglyphics.
Names of companies: Understandably, Johnson & Johnson is JNJ and Bharat Heavy Electricals is BHEL, but Infosys to Infy?
Names of people: Leaves me wondering why parents bother with names at all when I hear the likes of SRK, JLo, Bebo, Chi Chi and K-Fed to name a few.
But when I hear objects being abbreviated, I lose all hope for the language - CalC, Ciggy, Undie, Mobike.
Do people not have time to finish a word, leave alone a sentence?
Maybe you don’t have time to finish reading this post.
Maybe it is all a bunch of BS anyway.
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