Thursday, August 27, 2015

751. If four people get benefited, nothing is wrong

The subject line is a pathetic attempt to translate a famous dialogue from the Tamil movie Nayagan. Why did I use that dialogue in the subject line? I have my reasons.

See this picture of mine.  Ladies! Please control. Even if you feel like puking, try to control for some more time.

Why did I pose like this? I posed like this to send a strong message to the entire Nation and even to the entire world.

I could not take it any longer. I have to come out of the dock and voice my support for the Men's community.

The men are abused and illtreated by the ever growing misandry sect which wears a feminist mask most of the time.

I am a feminist and this is my last resort to send a strong signal and warning to those who put down men.

Take a look at the picture again. You can see my banian strap popping out of my T shirt. Yes! That is the message I wanna convey to the group.

If women can display their bra strap and call it their birthright, men should also stamp their authority and boldly display their banian without any shyness.

At times we have to become the male version of Rakhi Sawant and let the world know that we don't care. You may say that there is already a male version of Rakhi Sawant in the form of KRK. So what? Wht not have more KRKs.

This is just the beginning. If women raise a flag against this movement started by me from this blog post, we will come out with more photos and movements and emulate Hardik Patel's style all across the world.

Why should women have all the fun?

This is my choice, my banian, my underaayar.

I request all the men around the globe to join this movement and click a banian out selfie and post it as their profile picture on FB and make this world a better place to live in.

Jai Ho


Wednesday, August 26, 2015

750. Mr. Jatti

Underwear is the greatest invention made by man. Many people claim that they are the inventors of the underwear. But as an historian, It is my duty to set historical precedence right so that the right person is honored. Varalaaru is remba mukkiyam amaicharey.

Underwear was invented by a Tamil man by the name,"Jatti". 

This is a 2000 year old picture unearthed by archaeologists. This picture shows Mr. Jatti stitching something using his sewing machine. Now as a critic, you would argue that photography was not invented during that time. For all the doubters, let me tell you that this is not a photograph. This is a painting drawn by Ms. Hemalatha Venkataraman who was a famous painter of that time.

Some other critics might say that Sewing machines were invented only in 1790 by Thomas Saint. Such critics have no other job other than getting their brains conked up by reading some internet articles. Please do not believe all that you read online. Let us come back to Mr. Jatti.

Jatti was a tailor and he lived very long ago. One day when he was stitching clothes, he saw a man running on the streets without any clothes. The naked man was shouting "Eureka, Eureka". A dog chased the naked man and bit his lollipop. 

Jatti ran to the biting scene and saved the naked man from the dog and treated him. He then stitched an undergarment for the naked man and that particular piece of clothing came to be called as "Jatti" (named after the inventor. Jatti is tamil for underwear). 

The naked man was none other than Archimedes. I am sure there will be hundreds of critics who will still not believe this post and will try to find loopholes in this post. But history cannot be repeated just for them.


Tuesday, August 25, 2015

749. When the music fades

I picked up a guitar when I was 5 years old. My first solo singing performance was when I was 3. My first public stage performance with my guitar was when I was 8. I still only play those couple of chords I played when I was a child. Why do I say all this? Because I felt I would never get an opportunity to blow my trumpet anywhere else other than my blog.

I used to play the guitar for some singers and there has been ocassions where people have played the guitar for me when I was a vocalist (Sathya sodhanai for them).

I still remember that incident. It was the year 2009. I was asked to come and play the guitar for a so called veteran singer in Singapore. It was a Christian song and the couple of musicians who played along with me knew the song. The singer - because he is a appatucker, did not practice along with us. He just told that he has done this often and asked us to just accompany him.

It was a small auditorium in a place called Aljunied in Singapore. The program started. I went on to the stage, the keyboardist and the bassist also joined us. The drummer was already sitting in his podium with his kit. 

The emcee gave a big introduction for this veteran singer and the veteran singer walked towards the stage. The crowd were on their feet. All of them were standing and clapping. He gave an impression as if he was Freddie Mercury walking up to receive a Grammy. I thought "Why this build up for someone especially when they are gonna sing a devotional song where praise and honor should go to God". But I submerged that thought and calmed myself by saying "He is a veteran. Let them praise him".

So this veteran walks up to the stage and with an attitude stricken face looked at all the musicians with contempt. I was the weakest link in the musician line up. The other three guys on the keyboard, bass and drums were awesome musicians. All of us felt little bad because of the way he looked down on us. But he was a big guy (once upon a time). 

The song he was supposed to sing was an old famous Christian song called  "Amazing Grace". This song is usually played in D Major. It has a scale change in the end, if the singer plans to go higher. Some singers finish the song in E Major after the scale change. So here I was holding the guitar and strummed the D Chord for him to give him the cue on what scale he had to start the song. He never even acknowledged my cue. 

He spoke a couple of lines trying to emotionally move the crowd and suddenly he started singing  the song even before we could give the prelude. The sad thing was that he was singing the song in a minor scale. How could one do that. 

You see the picture above? That was the same look we gave him. We tried our level best to play for him.After the song was over, he turned towards us and said  "You guys need to practice". The drummer could not hold it any longer and replied " You should first learn singing". The crowd heard it. The illiterate crowd thought that we did not accompany him well and one of the organizers even commented that youngsters like us should first learn some manners. 

We felt like standing in a zombie zone and we decided to keep our mouth shut, take all the verbal abuses and leave the place. Have you been in such a situation where people who know zilch about a subject come and try to teach you about the subject? If so, how did you react? Vent it out in the comments section

- Chronicwriter

Friday, August 21, 2015

748. When the synchronization fails

7 of us.
We were the oor suthal ( Street Pianters) gang of the IT firm where I started my career. Every week end we would take our bikes and travel to some part of Kerala. We have travelled to almost every part of Kerala together. This picture is taken in Ponmudi during one of our weekend trips.

L- R: Rajesh, Selva, Jegan, Dhamu, Bekay, Jino and Yours truly.

We decided to click the perfect sync jump picture. Remember this pic was taken in one of the primitive digi cams of the 20th century.  

Now the pictures will tell the story

We are all set to jump. We are counting along with the camera's beep count down. Our hand postures give away that we are ready for the flight. 10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1, Jumpppppp....

Rajesh takes off like a missile before we all could launch from our launch pads. 

So the first try becomes a flop. We decide to change positions for our next try and we try again. We understood that not even two people in the group had done it together. All 7 of us were doing different stuffs. Are we that pathetic? We did not want to give up. So here we go again.

This one below is some what okay compared to the rest. But I have overdone it. During the course of the jumps, Rajesh's shirt has come off. Jegan on the other hand is seen doing almost the same stuff in all the photos.

So finally we decide to do one thing that remotely gives a synchronized feel. Yes we show our backs.

I was looking at some of my old photos and I came across these. Dedicated to my friends, my memories and our synchronizing talent


Thursday, August 20, 2015

747. The Vasectomy bicycle.

[Image source : Saurav Mittal | Flickr | Img no: 5470070619]
I got my own cycle ( a double shock absorber rock shox cycle) when I was in class 7. Till then I was allowed to ride my sister's BSA SLR.

I never liked the BSA SLR because it was a ladies bicycle and all my friends made fun of me when I rode that.

Riding a BSA SLR till my class 5 did not pose any problem for me. But when I graduated to 6th standard, my friends started pulling my legs when ever they saw me riding my sister's cycle.

The reason for their mockery was because it was not considered manly to ride a ladies bicycle. I was very short those days and it was difficult to ride a gent's bicycle because of the horizontal rod that connected the handle and the seat. That bar should be legally named the vasectomy bar.

Because of my short stature, I would literally sit on the bar and ride the cycle and most of the time, the bar played a big part in me lying down and writhing in pain. Even though it hurt the sensitive parts of my body, I would make it a point to ride this cycle, because I loved the cycle. Well, I never owned this cycle.

I rented the cycle from Nambi uncle's bicycle repair shop. Nambi uncle came down to my home town from Kerala and opened a cycle repair shop. He had a couple of cycles that he would rent out. I would wait for saturdays because on saturdays, my mom would give me a Re.1 coin as pocket money and allow me to rent that cycle from Nambi uncle.

Nambi uncle would say that I should return the cycle within one hour because Re.1 is the rent for one hour and if I exceeded the time limit, I would have to pay more. But every time, I would cycle for almost 2 hours and when I return the cycle at his shop with a sorry face, he will give one angry look and let me go.

We had a gang of friends - Pravin, Praveen, Pradeep, Ben, Ershad. We all used to cycle around. It used to be so much fun. We would have random races; and at times we would all adventurously venture to new places. When I think of those days, I can vividly remember the conversations we used to have during our cycle riding sessions. 

Now a days I don't cycle anymore. I have become a couch potato. Even the kids these days spend most of their time on electronic gadgets and I have seen only few kids riding around my locality in a bicycle.

When I went to my home town recently, I searched for Nambi uncle's shop. It was there but Nambi uncle was not there. I asked the guy in that shop about his whereabouts. I was told that he passed away. I also realized that the guy in that shop was his foster son. 

As I was talking with that guy, a small guy came to the shop and asked him "Anna vaadagaikku cycle kidaikuma?" (Can I get a cycle for rent?) He said "Yes, Rs 10 for one hour" and there he went inside the shop and brought out my favorite bicycle from the shop. 

As I stood there with goosebumps, the little kid monkey-pedaled the cycle and rode away with happiness that could only be understood by those who have done that.

- Chronicwriter

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

746. She loved someone else

She told that she liked men with mohawk hair style.
I went to the hair dresser and did a mohawk
She told that I looked like a Porcupine.

She told that she loved men who had a deep bass voice
I called her up on the phone and spoke in a deep bass voice
She told that I sound like a constipated Usha Uthup.

She wrote in her diary that she like men who had stubble beard
I grew a stubble beard.
She told me that I looked ugly

She told me that she liked men rolling up their shirt sleeves till their elbows
I did that for her
She said that my hands look like drumstick.

I thought that she loved me. But she was not in love with me. If she had loved me she would have loved me even if I had not done all these things that she liked it men. When a girl loves you, you will know that she loves you. You will not have an iota of doubt on that. You will not have to change yourself to be some body else to make her love you. She will love the real you.

All these have happened in my life and I have been sad too. But now I am happy because now I know that a girl really loves me with all her heart and I am married to that girl for the last 4 years.

- Chronicwriter

Monday, August 17, 2015

745. I love her even now

Take a box of cotton and keep it ready. You may need it to wipe your tears reading this real life story of this 62 year old man. Story taken from a confession page

I recently signed up for Facebook, and to be honest I don't like it  much. It's not very recreational and I haven't really been able to  connect with many old friends, but then I guess they didn't make  Facebook keeping a 62 year old man who lives in a quiet place like  Nanital in mind. When I saw this page, I was left dumbstruck for a  while. The photo at the top of both schools which played such an  important role in my life made me shamelessly nostalgic.When I look back  and compare this page with today, I feel bitter, unabashedly bitter.  

Things were very tough when I was in school (1969).There I was a young  Bihari boy with a hint of mustache, rather skinny but let me tell you  very handsome. My dad used to teach in the Regional Intisute of  Technology. In the evenings he used to teach Maths and Physics to school  going students. There was where I first met her. I still remember it,  she was wearing a Peacock salwar and a white kameez. A little dark  complexioned (very slight), and she had the prettiest eyes you will ever  see. I fell for her right there. 

It took me quite a few months to talk  to her. She used to study in Convent. She was a very simple girl and I  was shivering head to toe when I first approached her with a red rose.  Suprisingly she said yes the first time it self. I used to write a  letter to her every  second day and give it to her when she came for  tuitions. She used to give me the reply letter for the last one. It  continued on for almost 3 years, until it was finally time for us to  leave for colleges. I met her before leaving for IIT Bombay in front of  the Beldih Lake. That was the first time I kissed her. Though I don't  remember much of it, our hearts were racing in fear of getting caught.  

Somehow we both were sure that whatever we had between us  would last, and last very long.She was going to a local college and I  was off to Bombay.That first year was the most difficult of my entire  life. I had the constant worry when I would see her again, and that  she  would have moved to another city or changed her mind about me. The  rains of happiness showered when she was there at Platform 3, Tatanagar  Junction waiting for me. We sat together in the Auto on our way back,  first dropping me at my place then hers. Those were the first best 15  minutes of my life. We would sneak and meet every day in Jubilee park or  Sakchi during the semester breaks. This happened every year until the  end of college. I was the only one in my wing who used to long the  entire year to go home. 

College ended and I got a job in BHEL. It was a  good job and they gave me a house in Delhi to work there. I knew it was  time.The first thing I did when I came back was meet her, and show her  the appointment letter. And before I was going to do it, she said it,  ʺHamein Shaadi kar laine chaiya na.ʺ That was the last time, I remember  being so happy.However we both knew this was not as easy as simply  deciding it. She was South Indian and I was a Bihari. Family issues were  bound to happen. However I thought my good job and a pretty neat income  would do the trick.I left for Delhi to join my new job. I would come  back a month later and we would approach our parents together. She  didn't do that. 

She had approached her parents about me and they shipped  her off to Chennai.When I returned and I came to know about this, I  rushed to Chennai against my parents wishes. It took me three days to  get there.  Those were the worst 72 hrs in my life. Not knowing what  would happen next, I didn't eat or sleep. When I reached it took me a  while to find her. I finally did, in T.T.M Mandapam. She was getting  married to an engineer from her hometown.The way she looked at me when I  entered their house. I knew I had lost. Amidst all her uncles and  relatives and her father shouting and threatening me, the only thing  that convinced me that I had lost, was when she folded her hands and  cried for me to leave. And I left.

Today she has 2 kids, one son married  and other son in the States. She also has a grandchild, a girl. She  lives in Hyderabad. Every year for the 39 years, I have gone to see her.  I don't meet her or make her even aware that I am there. I don't want  her to feel ashamed. I guess I live my life through her. I never knew  why she didn't have the incentive to fight that I had. I guess I will  never know.I am 62, unmarried, retired, live alone in a three bedroom  cottage, and today reading through this confession page, I wonder  whether I made the right choice? 

After that day when I returned from  Chennai, I decided I will never let anyone take her place. Was I  arrogant and foolish? Today I see couples ʺbreaking upʺ and ʺgetting  committedʺ every now and then. But I just couldn't do it. I couldn't  even imagine anyone else in her place.I guess people have forgotten what  commitment truly is and how loud is the sound of a breaking heart. But  in a way it is good, people remain happier these days, they don't give  up entirely on love after losing it once. It's good to see society has  changed and evolved.Wish it would have done so sooner.

- Author unknown

Source [ Loyola Convent Confession Post #778]

Friday, August 14, 2015

744. Lost Love

She was cutting vegetables in the kitchen. He was watching a cricket match on TV. Accidentally she chopped off her index finger. She let out a blood rattling noise and cried out to her husband screaming " Honey! I cut my finger. Come here fast"


She picked up the chopped finger, walked up to the refrigerator, found some ice and put the finger in the ice box, slowly walked out of the house, got into her car and drove towards the nearest hospital. While she drove, she remembered that midnight a year ago, when he scuttled around the whole city for a medical store just because she sneezed once.

- Author Unknown

[Image source]

Tuesday, August 04, 2015

743. How I became a CBCID officer

I always wanted to become a super cop. When I was a kid I used to watch detective serials, cop movies and thrillers and I would associate myself with the lead characters in those movies I watched. I had all that it takes to become a cop. I was ( and is) a big fan of Captain Vijaykanth.

I would think like a cop even when I was 3 years old. My parents would hide chocolates from me in the unthinkable places in my house and they always failed miserably. I would plan and execute the chocolate detection with so much ease that would leave them shocked.

My parents thought that I had thief brains. Little did they know that only I developed that art in order to catch thieves in future. When I was in class 1, my friend Minu's pencil was stolen by someone in our class. Minu was my girlfriend Renu's BFF. In order to win Renu's heart, I decided to find the culprit who stole Minu's pencil.

As a first step process, I decided to check all the pencil boxes of all my friends in the class, All of them opened their pencil boxes and I could not find the pencil in any of the boxes. I so badly wanted to frame Shabir in this because he was my villain in Renu's case. He also loved her. But Shabir also did not have it. 

After I could not find the pencil in any of the boxes, I came to my chair in dejection and opened my box and to my horror, found the pencil in my box. I knew it was Shabir who had framed me in this. I closed the box in a jiffy and was glad that no one noticed that the pencil was in my box.

The next day, I came to the class and told everyone in class that I have learnt the art of magic and I would find the culprit with my magical ability. All my friends were watching me in awe and anticipation. Little did they know that I had already placed the pencil inside Shabir's bag.

I changed my voice modulation and spoke in Big B's voice and said " Jumakoo Kalama Bhooo" and pointed the ruler at Shabir's bag. All of them turned and looked at Shabir. Renu and Minu looked at Shabir in shock and confusion. I knew that they were starting to hate me.

Shabir frowned at me and slowly started to give a sly smile. I walked up to him, pulled out his bag and opened it and checked for the pencil inside the bag. It was not there. He, then snatched the ruler from my hand and said " Bahubaali Bajrang Disco" and pointed the ruler at my bag. Immediately Renu opened my bag and pulled the pencil from my bag. 

Minu took the pencil, scornfully looked at me and said "Thoooo". I was almost in tears. I never knew how Shabir did it. He beat me every single time. That day I decided that I would some how become a super cop, arrest Shabir and hang him when I become big.

During school days, I used to sit under a tree and eat lunch along with my friends. Renu and Minu stopped eating with me after that fateful incident. Every time we ate under the tree, at least one of our lunch boxes will be blessed by a crow. I started admiring and analyzing the preciseness with which the crows dropped their shit inside our lunch boxes.

This analysis soon revolutionized my thought process and I became the CBCID  [ Crow Bum Crap Injecting Director] of our class. I soon sharpened my aim and I started to pee inside the pot with complete precision. I decided to become a CBCID in future.

But things turned out different for me. After completion of bachelors in engineering and doing my masters in business administration, I have finally become a full time writer. Yes I know I could not become a CBCID officer; but that does not stop me from becoming a full fledged crime writer because I believe that I can write crime novels like no other.

To start writing on crime, I decided to join Alqaeda or ISIS and learn the nuances of being a criminal. But as I did not have enough money, I could not travel all the way to Pakistan and Iraq and learn from them. I finally resorted to learning how to solve crime by following the Indian Policemen who are experts in catching criminals.

I took my mobile phone and started to follow a cop. My friend had told me that the cop was an encounter specialist and he was the top encounter specialist in the country. After a few hours of following him without his knowledge, I soon found him chasing a car on his bike. I immediately knew that I had a beautiful story for my next book. So I followed the cop. 

After driving for ten kilometers, the cop suddenly turned into a street and stopped following the car. I knew that there should be something behind every single move of the encounter specialist. So I parked my bike at a distance and watched him from a distance. 

He parked the bike in the street too; put his hand inside his pant pocket and took something out. As I was standing at a distance, I could not see that object; but I very well understood that it was a bomb. He then looked at both sides and peeped into the house in front of him. This was a perfect thriller movie script. Are there any terrorists inside the house? I took my mobile phone and started clicking pictures. Finally I captured his picture perfect shot. Click this [link] to see the cop's brilliant job. My salute to him. He is also a CBCID officer.

Jai Ho

- Chronicwriter