My Musical Journey

🎺My musical journey...🎼🎼🎼

After a lot of research, I booked my bus ticket in KPN Bus Service from Salem to Chennai last week. Semi Sleeper, AC bus, Volvo comfort, window seat and all those stuff. I cheerfully boarded the bus and sank into the bucket seat. My neighbour was a thin fellow which meant armrest was mine. It was dusk and I loved the music and scenery. I might have dozed a bit, suddenly when a terrifying sound woke me up. It was like the bus had met with an accident or had just missed one. But everything remained calm for a moment. Then again that roaring sound made me to jump from the seat. To my disgust, I saw my neighbour snoring like a stranded whale. He was a thin fellow with small nose but made that trumpeting sound. Till then I had only seen elephants make that sound with long noses. I was aghast and didn't know how to face that calamity. It was like opening a rusted drawer and shutting it. To my utter dismay, everyone else was sitting as if nothing had happened. Again my nemesis drew air like submarine and horned like a ship. Both sounds were different. I sincerely wanted to hit his face with a shovel.

Instead I woke him up and told him "You are snoring very loud". That guy grinned at me and told "Sorry. My wife also tells this." I asked him, "When did you marry?". He told "Before a month". I thought that soon She would run away or ask for divorce. Then I asked him "How is she managing?”. He replied "She sleeps in the other room". Honestly if I were her, I would have slept on the road. I have heard people snore. By God, this one was from another level. It's like scratching the wall with nails or dragging the steel cupboard on the concrete floor.

Again we tried to sleep. Actually, I tried and he slept. After 5 minutes, again he blazed the ship siren. I sat and watched his twitching mouth. It quivered and shuddered. It followed a pattern. He roared three times but changed the sound on the fourth. Then the symphony repeated. I watched all the calm passengers wondering whether I had booked ticket in "deaf and dumb" bus. No one seemed to care. Just then another person from the front seat made a squeaking sound and started to snore in a different pitch. I understood that my sleep had become a myth and had to survive that night. Stuffing cotton in my ear or wearing turbon or wearing helmet or mummifying my head and the like. I bumped on my seat partner a bit hard voluntarily. Snoring stopped for a while. Again he started to snore with vengeance. I jabbed him a bit. He stopped and re-started.
I opened google to see "how to survive a snoring neighbour". It showed "how to survive a snoring husband". I saw my husband (!) for a second. Whatever....!(i) Roll him over - Actually I wanted to roll him off the bus.(ii) Use nasal strips - I wanted to use strangling rope. (iii) Use big pillow under his head - I would use a bigger pillow over his face and hold it tight till snoring stopped.(iv) Give him a hot bath, Be understanding, change bed, change pillow blah blah... Changing husband would have been the best option.

By that time two more passengers had joined the orchestra, all in different pitches. A lady was also growling (33% you see). Each made a different sound. When one drew, another howled. It was like sleeping in the zoo amidst all animals. A fat man in the nearby seat also started to SNORE. He drew air heartily and tremored while exhaling. Further sounds had started to come from all corners. One was landing and taking off his flight. Another had switched on the wet grinder. One was hooting and hissing. All will fall silent when the bus shook and return after a brief interval.

I went to the driver and asked if i can drive the bus or be a helper to check tyre pressure and clean the windshields. Pitying me, the driver accommodated me with his helper. Inside the bus, all animals that had escaped the Jurassic park were trying to eat one another. A bit of calmness slowly returned to me and I closed my eyes. Then my helper started his engine...

Today's special...

Today's Special...

 Kitchen is the most important room in the house. Our lifespan is decided here. A right potion in wrong quantity or wrong potion in right quantity can rest you in the restroom for the rest of the day.

Since my childhood, I was never allowed into the kitchen for fear of burning down the house. Hence, cooking was never my cup of tea. Further, I got a golden arm for breaking things. So kitchen was placed out of bounds for me. Occasionally I managed to steal jaggery, and horlicks. During the course if anything was broken, I was invariably summoned. If the stove didn't burn, my mother will look at me like "Did you?". If fire truck entered my street, my father would ask "Got anything to say?".

So I never cooked anything apart from stories. It continued till my first marriage. I mean my only marriage! Reason for stating like this is that, during those days I was blessed with neighbours who had married twice. First wife dead or divorced. So I used to talk to my wife about second marriage longingly till one day she said "If you continue talking like this, I will marry again and you will bless me from heaven!".

Most of friends cook a bit but talk a lot. When they were alone and try new dishes, I was always invited. One fellow asked me how it was after a non-veg treat and I asked him how did he prepare that Chicken sambar? He never invited me after that. Whenever I visit them, they would be in south indian cooking dress i.e lungi and lungi alone. It's useful to wipe your face as well as kitchen glove.

I was working in Hyderabad one time and I must have got up on the wrong side of the bed and it dawned on me that I was destined to be the greatest cook of all time. My wife had gone to Salem. The distance of 770 kms emboldened me to cook.

Women always boast of cooking. Is it that hard? Just add 1 glass of rice, 2 glass of water and 3 whistle. That's all. I decided to start from rice, sambar and slowly move on to land-food, seafood and junk food. After all, the top chefs in the world are men.

My wife ‘cooker’ always used milk cooker, rice cooker and coffee cooker, I mean maker. So, cooking rice must be a piece of cake. I entered the kitchen remembering 1,2,3. Took a glass of rice in a Container (not a Customs term). Quick washed, rinsed and dried it like washing machine. Then poured 2 glass of water. But there were 2, 3 cookers of large sizes. As my wife's family is like Mahabharat Gaurava's family, all utensils were so big that the bottom of the cooker was not visible from the top. Hence, I placed the container inside the cooker. Right then my mother called me. She was brimming with pride. I didn’t know how the news spread like cooking fire !

She asked me about the menu and gave some tips ! I crosschecked my 1,2,3 formula. I searched for lighter or a match stick for half an hour and called my wife thinking how irresponsible she was. She replied "God, I had told you many times, it's auto ignition". I slammed the phone down. Cursing myself, went inside and ignited the racket boosters. Again got a call from my brother in law. He uttered some encouraging words like "Why do you cook unnecessarily. Go to Sudha hotel as you always do." I cut the call. “The society will always mock you when you aim to reach higher goals”.

I returned to the kitchen. Time was ticking like bomb and no whistle. White smoke was fuming. I nervously loitered like pregnant woman and called my mom. She again confirmed 1,2 and 3. When I returned to the kitchen, the white smoke has turned into black and the room was like war zone. If smoke detector had been installed, I would have become world famous and got Oscars for food. All the apartment mates were at my door enquiring why was I celebrating 'Bogi' inside my house.

I panicked and switched off the stove and opened the cooker. Whole rice had burnt and the cooker was totally black inside. Safety valve and gasket had evaporated into thin air. The cooker looked as if I had stolen it from Hiroshima. Shell shocked, I stood there feeling numb. Again the phone rang and it was my wife. Whenever a husband wrongs, wife will know. That 7th sense is called Wife's sense. I was senseless for a second. I told all was well and dropped the phone. I called my mother. I narrated my "Operation Food" in detail. She asked “Did you pour water outside the container?” I sat aghast thinking about my imminent crucification and firing squad.

Next day, I mustered enough courage and told my wife. She consoled me politely saying "Don't you have at least common sense?" I heard her voice from Salem without phone. I retired from cooking then and there. She keeps that cooker as a souvenir. Till this day, whenever she sees the black cooker she utters "No common sense at all."

While looking back, If I had poured water outside the container that day who knows, I might have gone on to become a world chef or CM of Tamil Nadu.

 

Jallikattu...

Jallikattu is debated for two reasons. (1) Animal cruelty (2) Human injuries. When you are PETA and want to talk about animal cruelty, please don’t bother about humans as they are opposite sides of the same coin. If you feel humans evolved from Gorilla and so you care about them, then kindly fight against liquor in our state which claims more human lives than Jallikattu.

PETA is American invention that has come to fight for animals. People who don’t treat other humans equally due to their colour now have come to fight for animals. When they say they care about animals, we couldn’t forget their search for mass destruction weapons in Iraq and nurturing of saddam and Osama for freedom of their countries. Remember Jallikattu is older than America itself.

When a few Tamil actors support PETA, we don’t mind at all. But when you get national award by indulging cocks into fight in the film but preach animal cruelty, we feel irritated. As George Bush said “Either you are with us or against us”.

Coming back into the issue, Jallikattu is our tradition and pride. Bulls are trained like race horses or tamed like elephants. They are nourished with rich diet and extreme care. Watching their shape and posture itself is a treat to the eyes. Now don’t question why such a thing is your pride. Culture is different place to place. Don’t measure our tradition with your yardstick.

Are we killing the bulls as they do in Spanish bullfight? I wonder why PETA didn’t fight against Swizz bull fighting, Turkey camel fighting and many more. In that sense isn’t it cruel to cage the animals or use it for lab experiments ? Can you raise your voice against camel qurbani during Ramadan ?

Yes it is true that we hug the tail. It’s just to move on to the horns as it is virtually impossible to go face to face against our lovely beasts.

We are ready to play Jallikattu in videogames the day you conduct your court proceeding without any prejudice. Cases go on for a decade, deer commit suicide but when necessary bails are granted in two hours. Laws have come to punish doctors when they err. What about judges who make mistakes in the judgments. Why no law or ordinance is made to set a level playing field. I think it’s time.

On the second point, when you talk about injuries to human, it is always common in any sport. Why don’t you ban boxing and WWF where one beats another into pulp. People have died in cricket, golf even in chess ! So will you ban them also. Further in Jallikattu people participate willingly. So why does it bother you?
Ours is a culture that has a separate festival for cattle and we would never hurt them.

Hope better sense prevail and law permits us again to conduct Jallikattu. We are eagerly awaiting to watch our bulls coming out of Vaadivaasal.

Genderless dressing...

Gender-less dressing …

        Recently a premier store in England kick-started a gender neutral fashion campaign by introducing unisex store to endorse genderless dressing to show the equality between the genders. Now men and women can dress the same like olden times when they wore leaves and danced around the fire.

                               

        This is such an amazing invention in front of which innovation of fire and Modi will pale.  This will surely alleviate the poverty in third world countries and solve earth warming.  This phenomenon will rank just after “gender change operation”.

We are not afraid of this change. South Indians’ casual dress itself is the long skirt called “lungi”.  We often fold it near the knee and wear it as a mini skirt. Remember we wear lungi only lungi without any back up also!  Next if the westerners invented a ribbon to wear between the legs, we are ready. Our farmers’ national dress itself is ‘langodu’.

 We have seen and withstood these scary dressing for some time. Half the men crash-landing in airport are in shorts flaunting their skinny, hairy and curved legs ! So we are ready. Our much loved hero ‘Bag piper’ wears skirt for a long time. 

        I hope it is introduced in India soon.  Our ITians, the trendsetters will be the first to dress up/down (whatever you call) in skirt. They will rotate and let the skirt flow in the air. Half the traffic will go blind.   I hope that they don’t lift their skirt to wipe their faces.

My neighbour’s family from grandpa to grandchild who roam in shorts will be seen in frocks hereafter.  After all Birds of the same feather will ‘frock’ together  !

        Skirts with low hips will be the killer combination.  Love it or Live it.

             I get goosebumps to imagine our gentlemen going to offices in skirts. I wish to see some of our Netas wearing skirts and fight in the parliament.  They will pass some rule as who can wear long skirt and who can wear mini skirt. 

Our uniformed men in Police and Customs will burn the streets with this outfit.

My doubts are :

(i)          How runners and football players will manage when they run in skirts ?

(ii)        If people die in skirts, will the ghosts hereafter come and threaten me in skirts ?

(iii)      People who have already shortened their trousers to shorts, what will they wear next ?

One good thing is that we can order skirts or frocks for the whole family during festival seasons.  Being a lungiwala, I prefer wearing a printed long skirt. 

MY LUCKY STARS.....

My lucky Stars..

          Some people are born with silver spoon in their mouth or Goldware on their body like Mahabharadha Karna. Sadly I was born nude, stripped of all luck. When Jesus was born, the Star of Bethlehem was visible. When I was born forget the Star of Salem, not even a single star was visible on that fateful DAY (!)

         When the 'extraordinary' people and 'ordinary' people rock between 'Good luck' and 'Best luck', I fall in the 'extra' people category and smocked between 'Bad luck' and 'Hard luck' as my guardian angel must have committed suicide on the day of my birth.

         What is luck? When a group of stars kicks you around like football, luck is the referee who gives time out and saves your butt. As they tell, after getting kicked on one butt, I showed the other. Now I can't sit properly.

           While guardian angels substitute their player with other players, my angel is like Steve Bucknor in Cricket who joins with opponents to lynch me.

           In simple term if you have a wife with many sisters, it is luck. If she has cousin sisters too, then she is "wife made with added preservatives". If you have a wife with many brothers, it is bad luck.

          When I was a boy too, my friends were lucky and often found rupees on the roads. I found only papers and plastics. May be God wanted me to make my own money by rag picking.

          As my name started with "A", I was always called for any recitation ahead of the whole world. When I fail, Our teacher used to be fresh and beat me as if he was going to retire on that day. In those times, I had wished that my name could have been 'Zaheer Khan' or 'Yamraj' .

          To charm the "Luck" Angel, I tied rope on my neck(!), biceps and triceps. Wore rings with pearl, granite and kidney stones. While luck Angels clinked with others like their sixth finger, my angel always showed me the middle finger!

         While some are lucky to get bank loans for making bikini calendars, my luck won't even allow me to take bank education loan at my tender age of 40. I think it won't stop till I stand in single piece swimsuit either in bikini calendar or in front of Vadapalani Murugan temple.

            My ambitions are always summarily rejected as my luck is minimal like hair on popeye's head which I receive in EMIs. Wanted to be a doctor but ended as patient. Wanted to be an Oscar musician. But all I could play is death music. Wanted 3,4 wives on either side but ended with one who block all sides.

           So I am the "unluckiest boy" on date. I hope there won't be any contention for this coveted title.

War With Watermelon...

War with Watermelon ..

                                     

While the World is confused whether watermelon is fruit or vegetable, I was confused how to choose a good watermelon.  Buying the right one is nowadays more difficult than finding a man who doesn’t advise in Whatsapp. 

I had never bought a good, reddish and tasty watermelon. I was always goaded, admonished and reprimanded by my family for selecting them as yellowish as a Pumpkin. (Can’t you even pick one small watermelon?) In order to avoid this onslaught, I had to find a way.  I decided to catch the bull by its horns. [1]

I daily bought one watermelon to hone my skills. After all it was a war between watermelon and me.  So “Operation Watermelon” began.  I hit the books as the LAST resort as I always do during my academic days !  I found some interesting ways of choosing a watermelons  like...

Knocking the watermelon for the RIPE sound...

I knocked to check them with crooked finger. They all sounded same like tapping my pot belly. But I kept knocking till the shopkeeper told “No one will come out, don’t waste your time”.  Still with the sound I heard, I selected one. Score read 1-0 in favour of watermelon.

Looking for small joints… 

The joint where the watermelon was severed has to be small. I followed it to the book.  I ensured that even the shopkeeper was small.  Still the bloody watermelon was white like custom uniform i.e bit yellowish.  Score 2-0 in favour of “you know who”. (Don’t waste money and time, I will get it from the shop)

Watermelon must be darkish green and yellowish at the place where it laid on the ground…

I carefully followed the rules.  Later I was told that it was a hybrid. (Don’t you even know the difference between the country watermelon and hybrid!!)   Score 3-3. Ok I got it.  3-0.

Watermelon must have large stripes like zebra… 

I tried stripes, checked and printed. But the watermelon remained plain. 

As my maid was getting one watermelon daily, she was using it for facial, playing and eating. She encouraged me to try other fruits as well!

             

Many of the watermelons I handpicked were having wide cracks inside.  On seeing that my family was afraid that I was about to poison them.  The condition of the watermelon was called “hollow heart” but I was broken heart.  (How one crack gets another crack, we don’t know)  [2].

       

  

          In order to win this, I befriended a shopkeeper and offered 10 rupees extra so that he would select the best one for me. Thereafter it was success all the way and I am being applauded as the best selector of watermelon. 

Wikipedia type explanations !

[1]     Later I found that it was not a bull but buffalo.

[2]     My family doesn’t know “Birds of the same feather flock together”!

TITBIT

                              

Some of my daily bickering on my facebook page is given for enlightening the common public, eradication of poverty and education of youth...

Doubt Corner

How come Private companies helpline/complaint nos. come in fancy number for reminding you easily like 8888888888 or 68886888 while Govt helplines come in 7_89#26*9^ ?

Night Vision
Some one told me to count the goats if I don't get sleep. There are 19 goat breeds and 67000 goats in Tamil Nadu. I have counted all of them.   Yet to sleep.
Daily I sleep with my son at night. I feel like swallowed & spat by anaconda in the mornings. Full body pain and wet!
Wetness isn't saliva of course !!  Any guess?!

Women's era...
Every husband must be like Modi ji. Ready to fall at women's feet if one can get some mileage.  I am clocking 100 km pl.

Philosophy corner...
In Whatsapp When I write something on my right side people view them on their left side. When they type something on them right side, I view them on my left side.
Similarly when God does something good for us, we may perceive it wrong. It will take time to realise God's true intention. Don't trust your knowledge. Trust God.

Issued in public Interest...
Today I saw a beautiful girl wearing 4,5 mangal sutras in her neck. I was bit shocked and wondered if it was the latest trend and looked again i.e the mangal sutras. I was relieved to see that the girl was wearing her company ID in a yellow rope that was shredded. So please bloody companywallas don't give yellow rope to the girls to hang (!).  Give them some other colour ropes.

Today's thought....
Drinking a bottle of chilled water after a strenuous workout feels like heaven. Its like confessing to wife when she is in good mood. When both backfires, the elegy begins.

House Order No. 11
As the holiday granted on account of International Women's day is over, all husbands are instructed to join the house for regular duties and to remain submissive and obedient as ever.
Next leave from wives may be granted to the lucky few during Summer holidays and to the rest in Tamil "Aadi" month.

Home Intolerance…
Unlike our villages, It seems impossible to get a maid in these metros. My wife placed many conditions similar to Army recruitment. Maid has to be punctual, Orderly, must do the job cleanly, should not gossip, not to demand more likewise.
My condition was only one and simple one.  “she has to be pretty”.  It was never met.

Doubt Corner....
I think all Sriharikota rockets and satellites are linked with fiber optic cables through our street or another Harappa site is found here. They keep digging and digging. When we reach the other end, Tamil Nadu will fight for water with America as well.

Curse Continues...
UPSIDC branch of State Bank of India (SBI) in Kanpur has credited over Rs 95,000 cr into a poor woman’s bank account making her panicky- News.
I am also going and coming to SBI branch with Rs.2000 as balance. I don't know why these bad things never happen to me and make me PANICKY!!

# WWF Champs
Women are loving, caring, self sacrificing, gentle and awesome given the role of sister, daughter, wife and mother. Give them the role of MOTHER IN LAW, well they are in a different league altogether.


Office agonies…
In any department, smokers mingle like rum and water and become long last brothers immediately. We are the only aliens who could neither mingle nor separate. After all Smoking causes friendship.

Confusion Corner...
Last year I paid Rs.10200/- and brought academic books for my children. Today I sold them to old paper man for Rs.200. Remaining 10'000 I wanted to credit in my children's knowledge account. But my son insists to show them in wastage account. He must be right.

Queue thoughts...
Whatsapp and Facebook reduce the length of queue, wherever we stand.

Doubt corner…

*   When Indians complete air travel, Why do they never remove the baggage destination tag till reaching their remote hometown? Do they ever remove it or always carry them around till it wears off?
*   Why do we celebrate the Indians who achieved some thing big in a foreign country, when they had already left Madame India, obtained foreign citizenship and settled elsewhere? Our press finds out that their father’s 2nd grandmother was Indian.
*   If plucking a white hair from the head produces more white hairs, Will plucking a black hair prop up more black hair?
*   The Impending fall of low hip pants is more dangerous to the wearing men or watching women?