Sunday, November 13, 2005

Blank Current

Random hoots from here and there:
Listening to a risque number on the radio, the lyrics of which go "don't be shy girl, shake your body like a belly dancer..." Within a heartbeat of the song stopping, a Sanskrit shloka, "Vakratunda Mahakaya..."

Seen in the office cafetaria, an ice cream menu. One of the flavors: "Blank Current."

In the show Scrubs, one of the characters, Dr. Dorian, being referred to by the senior physician as "Bambi". Cracks me up every time.

On the way to work, a sign above a small open-air garage: "Puncher and Wheel Duruwing." The puncher part, I get. But what on earth is Duruwing?

Sign above a bakery: "Fresh Bread." Immediately below: "Gold-Plating services available." This is a sure sign of Malyalee ownership. Bread and gold are equally revered; hence this sign for gold-plating on the bay-kyeree.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

Mrs. Trunchbull and the Puppy

Once there was a little puppy who was born on the side of a road. He had a brother and a sister also, but somehow, he was the only one who got picked up by a person who happened to see them, lying near their mother.
This person was a woman we shall call Mrs. Trunchbull. She was short and squat, and wore her hair mostly piled up on the top of her head like a beehive. She had a voice that was capable of waking people up from the deepest slumber, even when she was three houses away. When she was in a temper, her voice could wake you up from six houses away, and the beehive looked like a hundred enraged bees were going to fly out of it at any moment.
What defined her most was her angry, bitter heart.
So it was our little pup's misfortune that Mrs. Trunchbull should be the one to adopt him, the term being used loosely. She took him home and immediately put on a red leash that went well with his silky black fur. Then she tied the leash to an iron chain and the pup stayed tied up to the pole in Mrs. Trunchbull's front yard for what seemed like forever.
When it rained, which was often, the puppy would stand up on his hind legs, squeal and beg Mrs. Trunchbull to take him in the house. She never listened. Slowly, he learned to squeal less and less. Then Mrs. Trunchbull had a small, concrete dog-house built for him which was the doggy equivalent of a prison. Into this the puppy was shoved, or chained to a post just outside it.
Neighbors passing by could see him sitting outside his wretched little cement dog-house in his characteristic paw-crossed-over-paw pose. His pretty, floppy ears moved every time he turned to look at them, because even for a puppy, he was extra frisky and joyful.
He was being well-fed and he was physically healthy. Sometimes Mrs. Trunchbull and her husband, the Broomstick (that's what he looked like) even played with him.
But should the neighbors have arranged for him to be taken away regardless? Mrs. Trunchbull was the kind of woman who would smash your windows, beat you up if she saw you walking down the street alone, or introduce a poisonous snake into your yard. No exaggerations. What should the neighbors do?

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Zero Worries

A leading national daily has hit upon this idea of adding these chirpy, supposedly uplifting one-liners atop its masthead each morning. Sample one: "Don't Worry, Be Happy." Immediately follow the headlines of the day: "BANGALORE MUMABI-ED." "Swamped Weekend, Hundreds Marooned." See how that perky exhortation atop the masthead is so appropriate?
On other days, "Zero Worries and Responsibilities" they chirrup. Eh? Exactly what readership are we talking about here? I hate to be the party-pooper, but what is a line like that doing on top of your masthead?
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