Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts

Friday, February 22, 2008

Dharti Putra

Word of Derision - This is mostly plagiarized from a mail I wrote (and one I received). I apologize for the lack of originality.



In a time not so long ago, humans occupied the ramparts of a dilapidated fortress in the state of Gujarat. They guarded their private space with fierce gumption and allowed no one to intrude upon it. As time passed by, some humans got jazzier (by the day) about cohabiting with exotic species. Soon, certain varieties of peacocks, langurs and the like also joined the military ranks. No one minded the change of policy as it was the order of the day. However, slowly but steadily, certain numbers from the rival K9 Gang (Canine to non-jazzy people) also started taking over significant portions of the human territory. Nocturnal rendezvous in shady corners (for obvious reasons) became forbidden. Social gatherings in uncharted areas became a strict no-no. Dogs, as the intruders came to be known as, had struck fear in the hearts of the mighty warriors of the human kind. Dogs were everywhere. They slept in our rooms, ate from our plates, drank from our cups, and peed in our washrooms. The time was ripe for a revolution.

Humans marched in big numbers, protesting against the council’s inability to deal with the problem. But there was a minority faction to deal with. Concerned voices in the faction were supporting the cause of the Dogs. “No, they are not going to be chucked out of the campus. That probably amounts to cruelty against an endangered species”, said their spokesperson. It didn’t matter if they enacted obscene scenes learnt from National Geographic and guffawed at our discomfiture. Many of us were caught in a predicament (that undecided gang probably included me too). To itch or not to itch. That was the question. The benefit of doubt went to the Canine kind. They were staying. That day, huge numbers of Dogs came out and reveled through the night. They wagged their tales at their distracters. They danced. They feasted. They howled. And, then they mated :|

The era of the Jhola Krantikaris had just begun. They sniffed around for abusers of environment (the list included acrobatic lizards as well) and jhadofied them in full public view. “Beware of the JKs”, we told our junior militia. I switched off my power guzzling night lamp more often than I would have liked to. I even began snooping around in barred rooms and putting out lamps and fans. The frightened militia was even known to feed Dogs from outside the fortress. The JKs seemed pleased at this. An uneasy peace existed. But that was the lull before another storm.

I remember the story well. It all began one day when a majority of the humans could be seen wandering from wing to wing, soap in hand, wondering where they could dispose of all the muck from the day before. Some of the displeased were the dreaded JKs. They called a meeting…………

Now let's dwell on the water saving tirade for some time. It had been on the agenda for quite some time. Thus it’s paramount that one understands the background. It's only then that one realizes the ingenuity of the solution. Now, we probably have more trees, shrubs, bushes, herbs, gardens and grass than any other institute in the state of Aapnu Gujarat. Anyway, maintaining the manicured gardens takes enormous amounts of man power (and water). “We Provide Employment”, they say. Fine. But what about water? Where is that going to come from? Silence. Aha.

"What about getting rid of them? Chop down the bloody things", said another visionary. No can't do. The green looking things are all counted and accounted for. It’s very likely that there is actually a number that can be arrived at. The singularity of the situation can be better appreciated when one is told that the institute land is actually forest area that has been leased out to the administration at a fee of Re 1 per year. Hefty fine awaits anyone who as much as plucks a twig from a dead tree. Talk about inflation and the entire hullabaloo surrounding it. Baah.


Back to the meeting……….

Now sometime during the course of the heated discussions, some crazy ass environmental freak (like so many that can be found these days) suggested that we should use sewage water for watering all the lush greenery in the campus. Even the JKs themselves were a bit surprised by the novelty of the idea. Whaaaaat? Are you crazy? Heh heh...sorta. Damn. The majority, not knowing what to do because of the turds still inside them, supported the wild idea and the plan got implemented. So now every evening (mornings when I am fortunate) we have our lovely sprinklers going swish swish swish with the hagga water all over the campus. The water is treated of course. But the stench remains, at least for an hour (or maybe more). Poor and helpless militia men (read students) can often be found employing hitherto unknown acrobatic skills in evading jets of sweet smelling fluids. It is said that no nasal malfunctions have been reported till now.

But our jhola krantikaris did not stop at just that. Some wisecrack amongst them suggested that we use the same (hagga) water for our tatti washing sessions too. Voila. Potty mein to waise hi badboo aati hai. Paani se thodi aur sahi. Clap Clap Clap. What a visionary! So here I am, a normal guy gifted with a decent sense of smell, who is subjected to attacks on his nasal sensibilities every day. The lavatories don't have a flush. Just turn the knob and whoooosh, your hagga water is back to serve you in your daily ablutions, sans all the muck. Life couldn’t have been better.

The story of our Dharti Putras does not end here of course. They continue to fight for their cause. Their distracters jeer at them for being sissy. The undecided kind hang out with whomsoever they deem fit. So it might be safe to say that I am contributing my bit in saving the planet. Dew or no dew, let's just say we smell it every day, shall we?

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