Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Jingle Balle

Word of Caution - Not mine. It's by Bachi Karkaria. I saw a newspaper clipping (from Dec '05) stuck in my journal. Copy-pasting it. Enjoy.

He knows when you’re bribing
He knows when you’re on the take
He knows if you’ve been good or bad
So don’t take ghoos for goodness sake

Kyonji, kyon kitkit-baaji kar rahe ho? Why complain that every Pappu and Pinky has begun celebrating this foreign festival? Christmas-Krishmas – these are glad tidings if now everyone gets a slice of the tandoori turkey.

And that everyone profits from the commercial spirit of this season. On a grey, cold Delhi day, how nice to be cheered by colony markets all decorated from head to mistletoe. Lajpatnagar, London-nagar they are one and the same Singh. Sohni Kudis stride in boots and berets. Older men and women both wear suits. Armored Kaurs, pashminas blazing, roll through the bazaars, clutching their shopping lists: Ek kilo gobi, ek kilo gajar halwa, ek Chreesmas tree.

Here, it’s the real thing, not the green dyed bottle brushes that are Mumbai’s faux fir. String them up with Chinese fairy lights. If cheap imports Shanghai-ed Diwali diyas, why not a Peking duck for the Chirstmas table? The Maharani Bagh memsahebs will stick to French ones bred by “Cher Roger”. But glory to God in the Highest, for everyone else it’s an adapted celebration, complete with bhangrified carols.

Let’s stomp to-

Jingle Balle, Jingle balle, Jingle all the way!
Oh what fun it is to ride on a CNG powered sleigh! Hoi!

That’s of Santaji isn’t stuck in a fog-jammed traffic. Or, causing the mother of all snarls itself. “Kyon Shahji, daarhi lagake apne aap ko PMji samajhte ho kya? Side ho ja, warna tere reindeer-ar ko rein-darrling bana doonga!”

He’s better watch out
He’d better not cry
He’d better clear out
Coz I am telling you why

On a Personal Note

That’s as far as the plagiarizing goes. Me? I think I did my good deed for the day. Went to the village school whose kids I torment, taught (supposedly) the immensely tormented souls, distributed apples and chocolates, and then came back to have some 5 slices of a delectable rum (or was it gingerbread) cake at a team member’s home. So much for the festive mood. Biked back home. Noticed the abnormally high instances of Lucknowites who had taken well to the yuletide spirit. All of them co-incidentally happened to gherao every mall in the small dihati town. Being a dihati at heart, I longed to do some Jingle Balle as well. But happened to be alone. So grudgingly trudged back home. With mischief at heart and a twinkle in the eye, asked Mum (only half expecting a positive reply) to be my escort. She said, “Roti kitne baje banaye?” I gave up. Ate aloo-paneer and beans ki sabji. The moon looked beautiful. I believe it was a full moon last night. But the romantic endeavors were cut short by an overpowering urge to effect something more substantial. I decided to woo the only consort I had ever loved. You.

Merry Christmas

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