Honesty is the best policy. I second the statement...

I never had luck with dishonesty. Most times I tried to lie or be dishonest I have only gotten into more trouble. A few incidents come to mind :-

 --- When I was in hostel we used to have the concept of running a few kilometres everyday. It was compulsory for all. The cross country route was hard and I always was late which meant some sort of punishment - military discipline. I bunked (bunking here means taking short cuts, that's what is was colloquially called) once and I have no idea how, but I got caught; not during the bunking, but after I reached the end point on time.

I guess the teacher was extremely confident, based on my past performance,  that never in this lifetime would I finish the cross country in the stipulated time. I got caught and not only did I get extra punishment, I also had to bear the torture of going through wondering what would be done to me - the same punishment I got plus a little extra was all that happened ultimately. I worried for nothing.



--- Another time during night study I told the duty master that I had a bad stomach and had to go to the loo. The fact was that I wanted to run off 10 minutes earlier and get to bed. I studied in Ooty and the night study ended by 9 PM and the cold always made one want to get into bed as early as possible.

I was always the one to be found dozing away in the class during study. Presently I hatched the ingenious plan since there was only one master on rounds for almost 10 rooms containing 30-40 students each. I though one guy missing 10 minutes earlier wouldn't be noticed. I went to the dorm, changed, got all cozy and was drifting to sleep, but it was not meant to be.

One more friend from my class used the same reason and followed suit. And then came another 6-7 guys, all following my lead. The last guy who came said the master was calling all of us. Went, got a tight slap which warmed my cheek in the Ooty winter, came back wiser and slept. Never once did I bunk after that. I devised ways on sleeping in the class, so much safer and simpler.


--- In college, I got my record work done by a girl as did most other guys. Many escaped, guess who got caught. Correct, 100 pints to you reader - ME!! Oh the pain of writing a record with diagrams for submission in 2-3 days time is torture in its worst form.


--- Cut the scene to corporate life. I once lied to my boss that there were domestic issues at my house and had to be there to sort them out. It was a month end and my boss needed me there to meet the sales targets, not because I was a star salesman, but because I was the only guy in the team then!

I lied and happily went off to Bhopal to a friends place, the idea of visiting a new place always excited me and I could not give up on it. My boss worked in telecom and traced my number to Bhopal somehow. I think he must have called and the automated "switched off" message came in Hindi or something that made him suspect foul play. He dug deeper and found out. I got back and had a bad session with him that left me in tears.

And so these days if ever some problem comes up and I have a choice to lie or face it head on. I suck it up and go for it head on because if I lied, I would have to deal with the issue and also deal with the issue of getting caught lying.

A shirts life...

I stink. I am stained with this humans sweat and the filth that he is surrounded by. I feel ashamed of myself today, though I shouldn't; its not my fault the fellow eats so sloppily and has extra active sweat glands and is not as hygienic as one should ideally be.

But I was not always this way. I was owned earlier by my present wearers sibling. She was a sweetheart. I was cared for and it felt good. I was washed regularly and worn and handled with utmost care - that did a lot for my self esteem. And not to mention being admired by passer by's and seeing the lady clothes giving me the corner eyes really did give me a high. Though I was made in a factory in sweat shop in India using the employment services of underage kids, I felt good to be wanted and liked by someone. I came to realize the past did not matter. What mattered was the now!

I am a blue shirt. I am adorned with checks, the check lines are dark blue and bordered on one side with a tinge of white and a rustic red. I am one of those casual shirts one wears with jeans and was in vogue when I was purchased which a long long time ago.

I was the pride of my old owners collection. I was always packed for any of her visits and she always showed me off - although very discreetly, as all women do when they want to show off. The bonus was that when she wore me, her life seemed better too. I seemed to be having a positive effect in her, and that's ultimately want any decent and hard working shirt wants - to make somebody else's life better.

And then as with all things in life except misery,and sadness, and worries and everything bad; the good times had to come to an end. My owner outgrew me - not physically, but in terms of style and thought. Suddenly I was too "manly" for her and she chose those flowery t-shirts and the rainbow coloured kurtis rather than having to do with me, who had worked so hard in making her look good and concealing her shame.

And so I was abandoned in the common attic of the house where everything starting from broken kitchen appliances to the Man of the house's completed liquor bottles were stowed away to be dispensed off after use. And that's how I felt - used off, dispensed with.. Sigh

The Man of the house's son always rummaged through the junk in search of liquor bottles that still had some left over due to the carelessness of the Master of the house which in turn came from the over availability of cash from the smuggling business he did. You can see what a creepy little new owner I was going to have. And the horror - the Master of the house smuggled narcotics in the stitches of shirts. Oh how cruel can one be, to subject harmless mouth less creatures to crimes of this nature. Though there are a few brethren of mine who enjoyed this profession - the ones who are made of denim and take pride in being able to carry out these activities - false pride I say.

I digress, back to the fate of my life. On one of his rummaging sessions the little master found me, immediately without even bothering to dust himself or wash himself wore me on and smiled as I felt disgusted. And that moment I knew I was done for.

And as with most shirts all over the world, I bear the treatment in silence, not that I have a choice. I am used and thrown aside and used again when felt like.

These days men changes shirts like they change women. If only we had rights too...

Possessiveness - a funny conversation on g talk

Part of the conversation is in Tamil guys - for translation, you'll have to leave comments - I am a devil, ain't I!!

A: jaanu
the smart guy da
semmmmmmmmmma smarta irukkan da


c: yaaru di?
officela sight adippiye. avana?
extra fair and lovely poturpan


A: Don't know which dep
Office guy yes. But fair n lovely no.
Po


c: podi podi... illena inekki kulichiruppan
paaka ivlo smarta irukkanla, pesi paaru - kuppa kottum vayilirunthu


A: Poda
I thinkkkkkkkk he s a brahmin guy only. Have heard his slang


c: i too can fake a brahmin slang as easily as having halwa


A: Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha


c: what u laughing at?


A: R actually considerd staying back at bosses's offer jus for this guy's dharshan.
Can u imagine
!!!!!!!!
We call him Honda


c: no I cant . R cant be that stupid
why Honda?


A: HERO Honda


c: he looks like bonda huh?
zero bonda

Masala bonda - photo courtesy, Wikipedia

A: I'm laughing like mad here

A man's search for Idlis

I have tasted a wide variety of cuisines - Kerala, Punjabi, Chinese, Andhra, Tamil Nadu, Zambian, Italian, Mexican... I believe I have tasted quite a bit of dishes in my life, I mean in today's world who has not. Every other mall has enough dining options to start off a food world war with so many nationalities involved!

I landed in Lusaka, Zambia and was on tourist mode for quite a few days. Once I had tasted local cuisine that included crocodile tail meat I started craving for - hold your breath - the ubiquitous over Tamil-Nadu, small, round, soft, fluffy, steaming idlis.

The history first. I never liked Idlis at a point in time. The reason being it was the sole item made in my community as breakfast and so, was available most days on the breakfast menu. As the saying goes familiarity breeds contempt - I held Idlis in contempt. They invaded the space on my breakfast table and deprived me of the various other options like appam with chicken curry, puttu with egg curry, kal dosa with mutton curry and so on - my stomach growls and my tongue salivates as I write his!

This breakfast table invasion made me hate Idlis and also when I was in hostel we were served Idlis that could be used as murder weapons, they were so hard. That further distanced me from the villainous opportunity depriving and deadly weapon - Idli!

Cut the scene to Chennai when I joined for work in a company there. Murugan Idli was a restaurant I frequented and the Idli was back in my life wooing me with its softness and its tangy and tasty chutneys. I fell for it all over again and I was in love with Idlis again.

Back to Lusaka, once the initial tourist mode was switched off and the daily routine mode set in, I no more had the stomach for crocodile tail meat or bacon or baked beans. All I wanted was nice Idlis for breakfast with some nice spicy tomato chutney. I tried at Indian restaurants and found chapathis,rotis, biryani and even the Idlis distant cousin, the dosa, but Idlis, sadly, were not to be found.

I then decided if I'm not able to go to Idlis, let the Idli's come to me and searched for the Idli making vessel in all the shops possible only to be looked upon by the store girls with surprise and faint signs of amusement at the new word and the wild Indian circling his hands to show small round discs on hi palm.

So then I resigned to fate and decided my Idli days were far off, but I had to persevere and be patient and one day I would be back in the land of Idlis, with its chutneys and Sambar. Patience was the key. 

And as the days went by with me pining away and dreaming of idlis an idea struck me. If I couldn't go to Idlis, and Idlis coudn't come to me, let me go to someone who has access to Idlis and a light bulb went off bright and dazzling. 

And sure enough I found Tamil friends in this new land and sure enough one of them had the apparatus required to make Idlis. I had struck Gold, sorry, Idlis!! Hurray! 

And one day I bought the booze, headed over to their place and influenced them to make idlis and voila - I had it!!! A plate of hot steaming Idlis (smaller than home ones, but beggars cannot be choosers) and spicy tomato chutney. I ate them with relish, savoring every bite and felt satiated and happy. And my search for Idlis had come to an end and the world was all colorful and happy again.

These days I have the craving for pathiri and kerala chicken curry and am scouting for Mallu friends.

P.S - For the Idli and pathiri ignorant people - Idli is rice cake, one of the native foods of Tamil Nadu in India and Pathiri is a different kind of rice cake native to Kerala in India too. Chutney is grounded vegetables mixed with spices served as accompaniment with a lot of South Indian dishes.

Of water and tissue rolls

Every person who travels beyond their culturally similar borders, faces a lot of odd, funny and sometimes dangerous situations. I went through a a very "funny" one myself and here is the story...

The first morning I came to Zambia I reached home exhausted from the long journey and on the verge of going mad form the need to visit a proper bathroom - the ones on the flight are so cramped I have a little trouble in them - confession.

So I found the bathroom at the guest house and went in like I had found treasure - with joy on my face.  Blissfully I finished my duty and then came the horror of horrors - there were no taps. I frantically looked, left, right, behind and no - there just was no tap, only a handle sticking from the wall with a roll of tissue with puppies printed on them.. I realized that there was nothing to do but accept fate as it was and do what was necessary. When life gives you lemons make lemonade is how the saying goes...

I had read about Indians in situations like this (Inscrutibe Indians by Anurag Mathur) and even seen them in movies (Anybody who saw the Madhavan's flight scene from the tamil movie Nala Damayanti would know what I refer to).

But to be in the situation oneself, was not hilarious, but a little odd and irritating. The lifelong habit suddenly being changed gives one a sense of incompleteness and a dirty feeling too if I may say..

But we Indians who coined the term "Jugaad" will always find a way and I did. I found a plastic container in the kitchen just the right size and without my roomie's or maids knowledge stole it into my bathroom and it's serves me faithfully today..

And life is back to normal... Blissfully

Sign language

I temporarily quit smoking recently  - was forced to actually due to a bad throat infection caused by Streptococcus( that's the only thing I carried from My microbiology degree).

But I had to gratify myself with something to keep those cravings away and I decided on Ice cream yesterday. And so after lunch at Pondy Bazaar City deluxe restaurant (yummy fish curry meals  - at 45 bucks, believe me its an awesome deal) I headed to the More store near my house.

On the way,a few feet away front the store I saw a girl walking and me like any normal desperate guy, turned around to see her and she was pretty. Content with the pleasant sight I went into the store and got myself a nice butterscotch cone and was waiting at the billing counter and lo behold, who is there - the girl who I was checking out earlier.

She too came to the billing counter. Our eyes met and she has a conspicuous naughty smile and I felt she wanted me to see it. It said I know you were checking me out and I think I like it type of smile. I returned the smile and headed for the exit. I felt she was purposely waiting there for me, but I guess she wasn't, she was walking away.

I don't know why or how but I called out to her (must have banged my head somewhere, or all the spurious booze taking this toll on my fragile brain) and trying to look really cool said " Hey, coffee sometime?" showing the universal hand sign for drinks.

She used the universal sign for "no" by shaking her head and her face said "yeah like as if you're that cool".

So much  for "ask and you shall receive"! But hey I tried and I got the good feeling one has when they have done what they have always dreaded.  Another one of those Chennai experiences I'm gonna remember for a long time. 

SMS - Senseless mobile stunts!!!

This happened two years back when I was in the middle of a passionate and obsessive relationship - this sounds like I had many a relationship right? Nope! I only had this one and decided never to get into one for a loong time after!!

That day me and her had a big fight, I really don't remember over what, but we fought. Weird thing, we always seemed to fight and now I don't even remember why.

That evening again I don't remember the occasion, I was drinking. I got drunk and with all the passion running through me typed an SMS for my girl friend that talked about the hidden kisses we stole, the quick and clumsy hugs in the lift as soon as the doors closed, the moonlight walks, the chocolate kisses and so on. Skipping some of that stuff here for the benefit of the morally upright readers.

What had happened earlier was that I had deleted her number from my contacts in a fit of rage like as if that would remove her from my life! The things we did when we were young!!

Her number was the first one stored in my mobile to signify the significance of her presence in my life and by chance the second number after hers was my bosses. The message went to my boss, now ex boss.

The next morning first thing my boss asked - yenna da nethu sema mabba? (What man, completely sloshed last night huh?)

I said "yes Sujith (name changed), sorry, sent that message by mistake.Definitely not meant for you (in case he got any ideas)!!!"

He said "Ill be holding this message in my mobile and in case you don't meet your target this month I'll be forwarding to a lot of ppl ( it was in a fun tone) and I was relieved"

Thinking back and all I can do is smile!!! Young, stupid and full of fun.. :)

Writing,now thats easy,finding the topic is what is hard!! ;)

Here I am at it once again. Trying my hand at writing. First I thought I would write about something that inspired me. I had to drop it firstly because there is too much of that online and secondly I sometimes get inspired by the not so inspiring stuff. Hard enough to keep you readers engaged with unique enough content - this would become your lullaby blog with that stuff.

So alright so then I'll write fiction - but imagination eludes me like I elude the workplace! No success there.

Then what about an autobiography I thought - I know, I laughed when I thought it too..

And in the middle of all this serious thinking, I wonder why I even want to write in the first place. Why else - fame and fortune of-course... It seems so important - signing books, giving these interviews and more importantly giving global gyaan simply because people will listen, since I now will have a book of my own now- ha ha ha.

And the best part is that fame from writing associates one with intelligence! Camouflage of the best sort.

Anyways back from the fantasy - what else can I write about that will make me the next JK Rowling or Salman Rushdie or Dan Brown.

Going by those lines maybe I should write about the Indian sorcerer boy Hari Pattar or a scathing controversial book on Hinduism titled Midday's Grownups or a historical myth based thriller called Chankaya's lungi!

Hmm brilliant ideas - but that would limit me to Indian readers. I need something that will get me readers all around the world - and maybe even martian fans who in all probability love reading our version of the universe!

Besides, these books would ensure I get sued for IP rights violation or exiled form India for life or even worse, attract debate from "intellectuals" on Chankaya - that would be a killer.

Hey, speaking of martians, maybe I should write about extra terrestrial life forms. I'm sure I would have a lot of buyers for that - our average day is filled with no suspense or fun, just the drab old comfortable life filled with comfort and luxury - this book would fill this void!!!

But then I would need research to be done for that - that means work - nope, no way that is happening.Not worth all that fame. I always feel proud of my ability to set my priorities straight.

Ok maybe I will write a romantic novel based on my love life - The book would be "I fell for her, I was happy, she fell for somebody else. I was sad.... No, its not an error. That's all there is to it, dont search for the remaining part because there isn't one.

Hmmm. This isnt working. I just don't know what to write about! May be Ill just settle down writing a cook book based on my moms cooking - ha that's it!!! And it shall be called "Cooked with love, served with care and appreciated with awe(by me of course)"!!!