304. Again and Again and Again

Overwhelming response for my previous post. There were Love mails, hate mails, fan mails and it was fun reading them all. A couple of death threats also came to my inbox. Would make all the mails into a post and publish it soon.

Barbie doll celebrated 50 years two weeks back. I remember the fuss my sister and her friends used to create with their barbie doll collection. Barbie doll parties used to happen regularly at my place. I had a GI-Joe doll too. But I did not have friends who liked having GI-Joe parties with me. Apparently GI-Joe was not as famous as Barbie. My sister used to include me sometimes when she and her friends had the Barbie doll parties.

They used to give bubble bath to barbie and comb her hair and dress her up and it used to irritate me a lot. Barbie's legs look like chop sticks. "Why the craze for such a doll?", I used to think. I even flushed one doll in the loo. But the long legs saved that Barbie. It didn't go down the pot. I was made to take it back from the pot-hole.

As time went by, I got a few friends and we had a similar interest(Not GI-Joe). We loved Sing-along-party songs. On week-ends, we would gather at a common place and jam many sing-along songs. At times we invent our own genre (Not the shazhal one). Rolling over, Jammy, Apple pie, Old Mc Donald had a farm,She'll be coming around the mountains, were some of our favorite sing-along songs. One such song "Again and again and again" happens to be my all time favorite party song.

I had sung this song in school, college, Workplace, family gettogethers and it indeed has helped me to break the ice at any point of time.It is such a wonderful interactive song that carries a wonderful message also. After singing this song for almost 15 years, I am posting this song first time in my blog. It sure has the ingredients to tickle your laughter cells. Check this video. I have included the lyrics of the song below the video. You can sing along with me. Learn this song and sing it in any party and I am sure that it will be an instant hit.

Again and again and again (2)

When I was single,my pockets would jingle

I wanna be single again

I married a wife-oh then (2)

I married a wife,she's the plague of my life

I wanna be single again - Again

My wife had a fever-oh then (2)

My wife had a fever, I longed it would leave her

With hope to be single again- Again

My wife she died -oh then (2)

My wife she died and I laughed till I cried

With Joy to be single again -Again

I married another-oh then (2)

I married another, she's worse than the other

I wanna be single again- Again

So men who have wives-oh then (2)

Be kind to the first for the next may be worse

And you'll long for the first one again

-Chronicwriter

303. The greatest Shazhal Singer ever...

Rock and Roll - Elvis Presley

Pop - MJ

Latin - Enrique

Reggae-Rap- Lou Bega

Opera- Lesley Garrett

Hindustani-Bhimsen Joshi

Carnatic- Balamurali Krishna

Ghazhal- Hariharan

The different genres of music and the big names associated with each. You might disagree with me on the names I have stated here. Every one has their own views. If you had not known these big names in the different streams of music, i am sure the above list would have surely helped you.

Even if you know all these music genres, if you do not know the stream of music called, "Shazhal", then all your knowledge about music is of no use at all. Even my three year old neighbour knows about Shazhal form of singing. In this post, i take the opportunity to enlighten everyone who read this post with in-depth information about Shazhal form of singing.

Shazhal is a combination of three forms of music namely Ghazal, Hindustani and Mallika Sherawat. Shazhal was invented by yours truly, yours faithfully, yours obediently, "The Chronicwriter" himself. The speciality of this form of music is that once someone listens to this form of music he/she need not listen to the same form music yet again; rather he/she would not listen to Shazhal again. The versatility of Shazhal is such that it helps the listener to attain karma the moment he/ she listens to it.

Another important feature of this form of singing is the kind of introduction that the singer gives to the listener/audience either

1) through gyrations of vocal chords or

2) through magical appearances on stage that could be done only by warriors who have undergone guerilla-warfare training.

I have attatched a special Shazhal performance video exclusively for those who read this post. After seeing the video, if you are interested to take Shazhal training from me, you can notify me of your desire by shooting an e-mail to me. But please refrain from telling about your desires on me in the e-mail.Please send the e-mail as soon as possible because the Shazhal classes will start very soon and I can accomodate only 500 seats per class.

Watch the only Shazhal singer in the world performing Shazhal form of singing in this video. It is just a 30 seconds video. Those who use a slow connection, please allow sometime for the video to buffer.

Note: My three year old neighbour starts crying whenever he sees me now.

-Chronicwriter

302. One among the 72

The false-propaganda made by certain terrorist organisations that " When you die for our motto, God will reward you in heaven by giving you 72 virgins" has made baby faced immature kids to take the gun and shoot at innocent victims. This post is not about the terror-plots or about the wreck caused by the heartless souls which include this boy,"Kasab"

Kasab is the lone survivor of the terrorist group which attacked Mumbai in late 2008. He is also the only unfortunate soul who has not lost his life yet and he is still waiting to meet his 72 virgins. Sooner or later, his wish will come true. Let me come to the point. I just thought about the condition of the 72 virgins given to those terrorists who were killed.Will those 72 virgins be happy?When ever i have lot of questions in my mind, i end up dreaming and i always get answers to my questions in my dream.

I happened to go to heaven too (in my dream) and watched the terrorists entering heaven. Each terrorist got their 72 virgins and a luxury bungalow too. I sneaked my way to each luxury bungalow and listened to various romantic lines between the terrorists and the 72 virgins. I am posting a few conversations that i overheard in a few bungalows.

Overheard romantic lines

$) Promise me that you would marry me. I can't unless i get committed to you

$) I even have an up-to-date health certificate. Do you have one?

$) Yes I am 79 years old. So what? I am still a virgin.

$) Hurry up. My husband will be here any moment.

$) Do you love me more than the other 71?

$) First say your prayers.

$) I am actually not a virgin. But due to recession, God has asked me to join the gang

$) I can fly and I have wings too. You can call me Kiki

$) I am a virgin because i am very ugly

$) No.. You can't kiss me on my lips. I have saved it for my boyfriend

I overheard many other conversations too. The last bungalow, i visited gave me the biggest shock. All virgins in that bungalow were Men and they are waiting for Kasab. The terrorist organisations failed to mention the gender of the virgins.That is when i realised that it is really dangerous to remain a virgin.

Anyways! All the very best Kasab!

NB:This post is not to bash terrorism or its after effects. A lot of people have blogged about it. The topic is only focussed on the 72 virgins

-Chronicwriter

301. 7-A Chellakan Street

All of us would remember the first house that we lived in. I was going through an old photo album at home and I came across this picture taken 21 years back. Most memories are sweet especially if those are your pleasant childhood memories.

I was 6 years old then.The people in the photo are me and my folks.

• My Dad with his broad moustache.
• My sister frowning at the photographer.
• Me standing in stand-ease position and
• My mom in attention pose.

The blue colour door is still very fresh in my memory. The number 7-A was our house number. My mom forced me to memorise my house number when i was 4 years old. In case i lost my way, I was supposed to find my way back home. But it never happened.

If you take a close look at the picture, i have circled three specific places as 1,2 and 3 respectively. Number 3 is the calling bell of our house. The chime "Jingle bells" rings in my ears still now. Number 1 is the place where i would climb to press the calling bell when ever i come back from school.

Number 2 is the place where i would climb from inside of the house. I used to climb to number 2 position every single day. When ever my mom could not tolerate my tantrums at home, she used to thrash me with sticks, ruler scales, the cricket bat and sometimes even using the frying pan in the kitchen. During such wonderful moments, i try to escape from her vicinity.Most often i would reach the door. On a few occasions, i would even climb to position 2 so that i could open the latch of the door and escape from the house. But my mom is a sprinter too. She never ever allowed me to reach number 1 position during my run-away moments.

7-A Chellakan Street. My first home.I have lot of lovely memories associated with that place. Do you have any such memory associated with your first house?

-Chronicwriter

300. Three Hundred

• Sehwag has the habit of reaching the triple figures with a Six. I have done it too, with this post being the sixth post of this month.
• Just 300 Spartan warriors killed millions of Persian warriors led by the great Persian King Xerxes in the movie 300. I have done it too, killing thousands of readers with my 300 crap-posts.

Did you like the above picture? I liked it too. Now let us go back to this post. Writing has become a part of my life and after experimenting with different styles of writing that included poetry, philosophy and inspirational posts, i finally figured that funny posts best suits me. Special mention of praise for my kids,"Jeremy and Jolena". Any post on them sure pulls in great number of page hits. I should also thank my dream love "Renu". I would soon publish you in book form.

It is always a great feeling to have so many wonderful readers sharing their comments for the posts I write. I also have many readers who comment on my posts even without reading a single line. Comments like " Oh sweet", "Good read", "Aaaaw","Nice post" are tricks adopted by such lovely souls who just comment for the sake of commenting. I am dedicating a post for such souls very soon.

For those souls who mailed me to console me for my previous post, I ended up replying to everyone saying that it was not my story. I also take this opportunity to reveal some dark secrets about me. Read it only if you want to know about the dark secrets.

• First Name:- Prason
• Sex:- Not yet. Still one among the 72 virgins
• Birthday:- Friday the 13th of April.
• Siblings:- One sister and I call her akka( Mother of Jeremy and Jolena).
• Shoe Size:- It is a big shoe.
• Who are your closest friends:- My Jesus.
• Favorite Number:- onnu, rendu, moon,sun, star
• Favorite Finger:- Thumb. Yes I suck!!!
• Have you ever bungee jumped:- Yes! Once inside the Loo
• Have you ever eaten a Hot Dog:- Yes. But I would have been happy if they had given me some other part of the dog.
• Have you ever been in a police car:- I want to. But no one gave me a ride yet
• Have you ever gone swimming in the ocean:- Yes.In the seashore.
• What is your good luck charm:- My eyes (Just after I get up from my sleep and before washing my face)
• What's your room like:- It is like Princess Diana's bed room.
• What is the last thing you said:- I am hot (I just said it)
• What is the best thing that happened to you in the past year:- My red underwear
• What is the worst thing that happened to you in the past year:- Refer previous answer
• Do you believe in love at first site:- 27 years and I am still single. Please ask the next question
• Who was the last person you slow-danced with:- Neenu. My Salsa partner
• Do you get along with your family:- Yes. I am a homely guy.
• Are you anorexic:- I need a dictionary now. Yes. I poor in vocabs.
• Are you suicidal:- I can make people do that if they listen to my pep talk.
• Are you schizophrenic:- Now the dictionary needs me
• Do you have a crush:- Renu
• If so, does he/she know:- Renu is married and she has two kids now
• Where do you want to get married:- In a church
• What do you dream about:- I am a nuclear scientist in most of my dreams and I would be performing vasectomy on female pythons in my dream

Now you know a lot of dark secrets about me. Please don't tell it to Deepika Pallikal.I do not want her to know all these dark secrets of mine. It will surely break her heart.She is my latest girlfriend.

Ok! Enough staring at her. I just want to say that this is my 300th post and I will continue to nag everyone with my silly write-ups

-Chronicwriter

299. Men Don't Cry

Note: This is not a humor post. Some would read it as a story. Some would just ignore this. But for me, this is a very special post.

I quit consuming alcohol two years back. I started it back in college and then it continued in parties at workplace. But when I decided to call it quits, my decision was strong and I took it boldly. In the last two years, peer pressure had tried to pull me back to get back in touch with alcohol. But I was strong in my decision.

“What has happened to me today? Why am I feeling like drinking tonight?.” After two years I wanted to drink tonight. Why is my mind playing such a trick to restart a lost addiction? Was my mind reminding me to drink or was my mind reminding me of her…

I went to a Bar and bought two beer bottles. I did not want to drink at my place. So I went to a near-by football ground. It was 10 pm. The moon shone bright and the sky was very clear. There was a Phone-booth there and a small shop. No body else was around. It was a very calm place indeed. This was the same football ground where my friends and I have got drunk many a times. But tonight I was sitting all alone in the ground with the two beer bottles. The wind was blowing freely. The air around me was still though. The breeze ruffled my long hair and the teardrops dried.

I was crying all along. The guy in the Bar who sold me the two beer bottles even asked me the reason behind my tears. I didn’t answer him though. I opened the first bottle with my teeth. I took my first sip. It was sour. I hated beer but now I needed it.

It has been four years and I haven’t talked to her for four years. I first met her in the year 2000.We were in love for four and a half years. But why am I crying today? Why am I sad? Why have I bought these two beer bottles? Why am I sitting all alone? I did not lose anything. I have my family. I have my friends. I am having my fun for the last four years. But why am I crying today?

She was my junior in college. The first time our eyes met, I knew that she was born for me. "What is your name?”, my rough voice echoed through her eardrums. "Pooja", a soft voice soothed my eardrums. She was my favorite junior and my batch mates were not allowed to rag her (Strict instructions from me). She loved my voice and I started singing songs for her every day.

“Chriz”, Do you smoke and drink? “ Yea, Not heavy though”. She did not talk to me for two weeks. Now I feel I should have left her that instance. But she met me again and asked me to promise that I would never drink or smoke again. I promised but still continued smoking and drinking.

*******
I looked at the beer bottle. It was still full. I have had just that one sip. It had lost its chillness. I looked around. There was a guy in the telephone booth, busy talking with someone

******

College day celebrations. She was sitting in the crowd. I was on stage with my band.I did not take my eyes off Pooja.She had her eyes fixed on mine too. The vacuum between us was so thick that I could actually cut it with a knife.Lady in Red. My friends knew that I dedicated the song to her.

That night my hostel warden came to my room and said: “ Phone for you chriz”. Nobody used to call me at my hostel number. Not even my parents. I was thinking who it would be.I picked up the phone.

“Chrissy Boy, Thanks for that song. I love you”

“What did you just say? Say that again”

“Golden words are not repeated”

“ I didn’t hear that clearly enough. Why don’t you say that again?”

“I will tell it to you tomorrow when we meet in college. Till then miss me” and she hung up the phone, I felt like I was the most beloved person in the world. We grew closer.

I am in my final year of engineering now. We now know each other for two years. Two years of togetherness. I took her to the beach. We were in love. Neither of us ever proposed to each other. But we knew in our hearts that we were in Love and we kept on telling,” I love you” every day. I finally popped the question, "Can I make you mine?"... A few minutes of silence.. Our eyes spoke the language of love. Our love finally blossomed in the beach.

The next year (2003), I was out of college. I had bought a mobile phone. That was the year mobile phones came to India in a bigger way. I presented her with a mobile phone on her birthday. We talked for hours together every day. The heavy mobile phone bills said it all.

The next year, I got admitted to an MBA program in Cochin. She got a job in a famous IT firm in Mumbai. We had not met in a long time. I decided to meet her and went all the way to Mumbai. We had a great time. I knew she missed me a lot. She was not the same girl, I once knew. She was a shy little girl in college. Now she is working and she had a matured way of looking at things in life. When I was about to leave, she asked me

"When will you marry me?"

"Wait till I finish my MBA"

"But my parents are looking for a guy for me. It is very hard to convince them. You are Tamil. I am a Sindhi. You are a Christian. I am a Hindu. Do you think that it will work out?"

" Why such a doubt after four years? That too on a special day?"

"Just wanted to ask you! Do you think that we could make it?"

"Whatever happens, I am sure that we will make it through"

Our daily phone calls became once in week phone calls. Whenever we talked, she kept on telling me the different proposals that are coming her way. “Chriz! I think we should break this. I don’t think this will work out” I was left behind. She couldn’t hear me. She couldn’t sense the shudders I silently broke into whenever she talked that way. Why aren’t men allowed to cry aloud?

It’s unfair. I was a man. I could not cry.

I could not hate her.

I was not cracking my usual jokes these days.

I had forgotten to smile.

I could not joke which had been my trademark symbol.

I could not Sing.

She stopped talking to me. She stopped attending my calls. I would get a text message saying " I am busy in a meeting. I’ll call you later”. But I would never get a callback. I even thought of begging to her to talk to me. But, Can a man beg? I have heard people say the phrase “Act like a man. Do not beg”. Women can cry. Women can beg. The world accepts these emotions as natural outcomes of feelings. But why are men not allowed to do all these? What are men supposed to do? I never found out.

The two beer bottles were still full. One bottle was open and the other one was still not open. I looked at my watch. It was midnight. I turned around and I could still see the young boy in the phone-booth. He was still talking on the phone. I could hear his voice clearly. He was listening intently for several seconds. Then he spoke in a shivering voice, "Please Minu ... Don’t leave me like this. I feel like dying ... ". I left the bottles in the football ground and started walking. As I walked, I observed his face. I saw a glitter of wetness in his eyes.

and I thought ... "Men don’t cry".

-Chronicwriter

298. Why God doesn't answer some prayers?

My first prayer was taught by my Mother. The prayer was very simple. It just had four words. It was "Thank You, Jesus. Amen".When I woke up in the morning, I used to say this prayer.The same prayer was said before every meal also.This prayer taught me to Thank God for each and every single thing in life.

When I was Three years old, I had my first meeting with Santa Claus.I had never seen him before that. A group of people came home during Christmas season and started singing Carol songs. Suddenly a peculiar Big creature emerged from behind and started dancing with balloons. I started crying out loud and my parents couldn't control me. My dad told that it was Santa Claus and he loved Children. But that did not stop me from crying.The Santa came closer to me and scooped me up and gave me a chocolate. Not knowing what to do, I ended up biting his shoulder. Apparently, he happened to be the priest of the Church.

Next Christmas, I prayed to God that Santa should not come along with the carol group to my house. God answered my prayers. When the group came home to sing songs, the priest was not wearing his Santa suit. He had not forgotten the Love-bite yet.

God answered my prayers...

In fact when I wrote my higher secondary board examination, I prayed to God that I should get a centum in at least one of the subjects. I had six subjects in my board examination.When the results came, I looked with eager eyes at my marks in the school notice board.

1. Physics - I didn't score a centum
2. Chemistry - Great marks. But not a centum
3. Mathematics- Good marks. But not a centum
4. Computer Science - Missed centum by one mark 199 out of 200
5. English - It was 190 out of 200

Till now I was pretty disappointed . But When I saw the last subject, tear drops welled up my eye lids. God had indeed answered my prayers. I looked around. No one saw it.

6. Tamil - Centum. Yes I had scored a centum at last.

Joy and happiness knew no bounds. I ran around the school premises and yelled out in Joy. Suddenly I stopped running. Some thing in my mind said that I had to take yet another look at the notice board. I came back to the notice board and saw my marks again. It read , Tamil - 100 out of 200.

God had answered my prayers. I had scored a centum in one of the subjects. I realised that I should be very clear when I pray. Talking about unanswered prayers,I prayed continuously for 20 years that Renu should fall in love with me. She fell in love with every Tom, Rooster and Harry in town. Finally She got married too. God never answered that prayer of mine.The same God who answered my prayers more than once did not answer this prayer of mine.

Why?

This question was in my mind for many years and I was contemplating on it this weekend, when my sister sent me a video. In the Video, my sister is teaching her daughter,"Jolena" (My niece and God-child) to pray.Jolena is just a one and half year old baby. Just watch what Jolena prays for... No wonder God does not answer certain prayers...

-Chronicwriter

297. Agent Jeremy-007

Not every family is blessed with Great-brains in every generations.But there are very few.

• My Great grandfather was the first Lawyer in town. Its always a great feeling to go to my old family house, where His name still holds great respect among the people who live in the locality.
• My Grandfather was a walking encyclopedia. He not only worked in the Income tax department, but also kept his hands clean and tidy and he was known for his straight forward nature.
• My Dad is a Scientist and I have already dedicated a post for him here.
• My Dad's son,"Me" did not want to follow in my forefather's footsteps and hence took the decision to become a humor blogger.
• My Nephew,"Jeremy" is showing signs that he has the Brain-ingredients of becoming the next secret agent of the country.

Jeremy called me up two days back and asked me,"Maamaa! (Uncle!), What is Chellam?". My thought travelled across my entire head and couldn't decipher the reason behind Jeremy's question. "Chellam" is tamil for " Darling". I asked him why he wanted to know the meaning for the word Chellam. His answer made me smile.

Maama!, Lamrin Uncle, came to our place this evening and he carried me everywhere . We played peek-a-boo, catch-catch and we even went for some super-cycling.He thought that I was not listening to him. But all the time, he was talking on the phone with someone.I guess it must be a business call and while talking he used the word,"Chellam" in each and every line.

Apparently, Jeremy had overheard a romantic conversation between a guy and his lady-love.The guy might have been in cloud 29. But Jeremy, because of his super-detective skills plucked the love-code out of thin air and passed it on to me and it has ended up here as a blog post.

Well readers! Talking about lovey-dovey names, a few names strike my head at this juncture "Rasagullah, Jelaabi, Buji, Chakarey, Sweets". My romantic creativity is very poor and hence I could not think of any more romantic names that I could use for my lady love.

Please help me in pouring your thoughts on romantic names that you'd like to use to address your better half. Wear your romantic caps and let the creativity flow. Till then Let Agent Jeremy discover more through his secret-agent skills

296. The Or-Cut Bug

Are you smitten by the orkut bug?

Orkut was a part of my life for three years and i was so much addicted to it that i ended up having my food in front of the computer. My study timings were exchanged for the time i spent on orkut. Even i stopped going out and meeting friends. The addiction was so deep that I started using orkutian terms in my day to day language.In offiicial meetings, I would tell my boss that I would leave him a scrap about my work-status.

My experience with the un-avoidable devil, "Orkut" even made me to send a friend request to Penelope Cruz. She even accepted my request and she started scrapping me in some unknown language. It must have been Spanish or Latin because I did not understand a single word.When I finally attained self-actualisation in orkut, i decided to write two important posts for Orkut users.

These two posts changed the lives of many DeSpErAtE souls. I am adding the two posts yet again , because I want to change the life of some more DeSpErAtE souls.

1.Orkut for Men

2.Orkut for women

I also take this opportunity to announce that I joined orkut again this week and I stayed there for 3 days. I re-lived some of my old moments and then quit from the scene for-ever.Yes! I deactivated my orkut account for eternal bondage.As I intended to pen this post as an inspirational post, i'd like to end it with a piece of advice.Well it gives me great happiness and pleasure in knowing that even a nutty person like me can start giving advices through blogs.If Darkha-Butt can say what ever she wants in her TV-channel, even I can give advices through my blog. Don't you agree with me people?

Advice

"Run away from an addiction before the addiction addicts you". I did not get it right this time. Let me rephrase this sentence for the benefit of my readers. " Run away from addiction after the addiction addicts you".Now I am confused about one thing. I guess the first trial statement was right.

Let me make an operational definition for the term Addiction before I come back to the advice part.Addiction- " It is like a vegetarian having Chicken pox. He has chicken in him;but still he is a vegetarian".Now I forgot the subject on which I originally intended to advice you all. Can you please advice me?

-Chronicwriter

295.I am a strike bowler

We Indians are natural cricket players. All we need is something that resembles a bat ( a wooden plank/board/stick/ or a willow) and something that resembles a ball ( paper ball/rubber ball/tennis ball/ or any nut). Cricket flows in every one's blood. It starts in school level itself, even inside class rooms in the form of Book cricket. Those days, I was a good spinner. But as time went by, I started paying attention to writing and stopped playing cricket.

Last week, I decided to make a come-back to cricket. I went to the cricket field and saw some school kids playing cricket.They were around 10 years of age. I begged and pleaded with them to include me in their team. Finally they agreed when I told them that I would give them ten bucks each.

The game started.Our team went in first.Wickets fell down like nine pins. I went in as the 5th batsman. The little boy bowled like a devil. The first ball, I faced was a full toss that landed on my groin. I was on the ground. It took me some time to recover. The second ball was a bouncer that zoomed past me. The kids were laughing at me.I survived for ten balls and even scored two runs through a deflection. Finally I was run out. Our team finally made 86 runs in 15 overs.

It was our time to bowl and I knew that with my bowling skills, the opposition team would fall down like a pack of cards. I was asked to open the bowling attack. I ran up to bowl my leg-spinners. The first ball was smashed for a four. The second ball was hit back with brutal force and it reached the boundary too. The third ball was hooked for a six. That is when I decided to use my secret weapon -"The non-spinning ball". The fourth ball went for a six too.I didn't want to continue after such a humiliation.

I told the opposition team batsman that I would not bowl to him, if he continues to hit me for sixes and fours. He laughed at me and I could not take such a sarcastical remark. It was such an insult to a great bowler. I told my team mates that I would conduct a strike against the opposition team. My team mates agreed with me when I told them that I would give them another ten rupees each. Me and my team mates left the cricket pitch and we never gave the opposition team another chance to smash us.Yes, I proved my mettle as a strike bowler.

PS: I dint give the ten bucks to the kids.The kids are roaming around my house these days. What should I do now?

-Chronicwriter