Desicritics Category: Culture: Bananafish

Satire: A Reasonable Dog

Subroto Pant — Sat, 27 Feb 2010 08:10:31 EST

'You ought to be ashamed of yourself", said Nawab, nibbling away at the bag of chips.

"ME? Now what have I done?" I asked, cursing the day this opinionated hound came into my care. That's right "hound" was what I had said and I am not going into it again, the whole story is somewhere out there on the net if you care to find it. In short, Nawab my talking dog given to me by my Pakistani friend now resident in Canada (the friend not the dog unfortunately).

"You shouldn't have got the cat. You know I am allergic to them".

"Ridiculous. You are only sulking since the cat started sleeping in your basket".

"Am not, I only want the cat to acknowledge that this is a dog's household. That cat has to learn that we live here by doggie rules. All it needs to do is respect my sentiments, why can't a cat be more like a dog?".

"Come on, you are being unreasonable. Its a nice cat, surely there is something about it that you like".

"Well some of that cat food is not bad and I do watch Garfield on TV. Why some of my best friends have been cats. Just let the cat know that I came to this house first, return my basket and all my toys. The cat can then stay if you like".

On that note, he promptly made for the fridge nudged open the door and started nosing around.

"So where is the cat going to sleep now?", I asked.

"Oh put it in the kennel outside, I said I am a reasonable dog", said he munching on the chicken as it started to pour outside.

February Unleashed

Purba — Thu, 25 Feb 2010 23:08:37 EST

Our generation played with the Frisbee (Rubik’s Cube followed slightly later). Usually bright yellow, it looked more like a plate. The Frisbee was something we never forgot to pack, be it a picnic or a summer stay at a hillside cottage. It had a mind of its own and never followed the intended direction (especially when it was my turn). If throwing it correctly was a challenge then catching it was even a bigger challenge, making us scamper in confused frenzy. We mostly ended up losing it. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the Frisbee had an inventor, Walter Fredrick Morrison who died at the age of 90 on the 13th this month!

Haldiram left an unsavoury taste in our mouth. Prabhu Shankar Aggarwal, proprietor of this iconic brand, was sentenced to life imprisonment for conspiring to kill a tea stall owner. If he didn’t like his chai, he could have just said so. The Bhujiya baron is now earning a princely amount of Rs 21 tending to hapless shrubs in the jail premises.

Meanwhile the climate could not make up its mind between Ice Age and Global Warming. While most of North America, Siberia, Mongolia and China faced the most brutal winter in a century this season, Delhi witnessed the warmest winter in 55 years. Was it that warm? Then why was I shivering most of January?
A selfless team of Gurgaon electricity board officials went to Brazil seeking answers to Haryana’s power woes. Their visit coincided strangely with the Rio Carnival. I can now sleep peacefully despite the 12 hour power cuts, safe in the knowledge that our taxes are being well utilized for in-depth research in far off lands. And speaking of the carnival, inclusion of 7 year old Julia Lira as the drum corps queen raised the ire of child welfare advocates. Children pushed into the limelight is such an uncomfortable zone. It always leaves me wondering as to who wants it more, the parents or the child.

February is the month of love. This Valentine’s, while most of the world ate heart shaped pastries, tugged at heart shaped balloons, Muthalik, Sri Ram Sene leader, got a free makeover. Just as he was about to launch into another diatribe against Valentine’s Day, his face was smeared black by some unruly Congress activists. Tragically he got no pink chaddis this year.

English football got its first female referee, a move that was dismissed as “tokenism for politically correct idiots”. Our country on the other hand is brimming with politically incorrect idiots. Like the Shiv Sena, making a complete mockery of the term “freedom of speech”. The Khan refused to eat his words. The Sainiks threatened, participated in pointless television debates and vandalized public property. Not that it mattered. People flocked to the theatres whether or not they actually wanted to watch “My name is Khan” all for the sake of solidarity. BJP leader Nitin Gadkari on the other hand sang a different tune. At the saffron party's national executive meet in Mahdya Pradesh, Gadkari belted out 'Zindagi aisi hai paheli hai, Kabhi ye hansaye kabhi ye rulaye' . I can imagine Simon Cowell (of American Idol fame) scowling at him and saying “frankly, I couldn’t make out where the noise was coming from”.

Google Buzz made its debut and a forced entry in our mail box this month. It looks like a cross between Twitter and Facebook to me. Do we really need yet another social networking site? Discover how many followers we have and follow others as a moral obligation! Not me. Predictably Google’s new application did not generate enough buzz.

It had now been scientifically proven what we have known all along. Grumpy colleagues are the biggest workplace irritants. But what we did not know is that heavy snoring actually burns calories. Finally a noisy and convenient way to shed all the unwanted bulge! And before I prepare to toss and turn yet again, I have to practise the “You are irritating as hell, I now have scientific proof” speech for all my grouchy colleagues.

But does that stop me from raving and ranting about all the expected and unexpected twists in this year’s budget? Absolutely not, I am simply exercising my 7th fundamental right. Right to crib about anything and everything.

Nawwab and I: Inconsequential

temporal — Mon, 7 Dec 2009 09:24:59 EST

Each cause has more than one effect, and these effects will invariably include at least one unforeseen side-effect. The unintended side-effect can be more significant than the intended effect. The "law" of unintended consequences

t: Rhythm.
N: Order.
t: Balance.
N: Sequence.
t: Consequence.
N: In-consequence.
t: Intentional?
N: Unintentional
t: Written
N: Written or unwritten.
t: In Law?
N: Forget in-laws
t: In Law? Legal?
N: Laws of unintended consequences*
t: hmmmmm....like this
N: Woof, woof.
t: When I agreed to take you in I had no idea...
N:...no idea of profiting from it.
t: Profiting from tidying up after you? Feeding you? Nursing you?
N: Don't go over board. You are way better company than that hydrant.

t: Ouch! For a well read dog you seemed to have missed out on gratefulness Nawwab.
N: And for a poet you have lost your muse.

***

t: Why are we watching Faux News?
N: To get a feel for their baying.
t: Bigotry?
N: Wrong b word. Business.
t: They do make money for Murdoch.
N: Smart not bigoted.
t: Bigotry raised to an art form.
N: As in iron and wood?
t: (smile)
N: Or as in rage and jealousy?
t: And infidelity.
N: Goes on to show money cannot buy you sense.
t: Or sensible PR aides.
N: Looks like he gave up before the first volley was fired.
t: Heard they were in intense therapy.
N: Character is what you are in the dark.
t: Who said that?
N: Abe or Moody.
t: Darkness and Light are the great levelers.
N: There, be careful...you are about to slip.
t: Both can be so blinding.

t: Omama is opting for surge and purge.
N: And then renege.
t: Are you hinting Vietnam?
N: What does war means for you?
t: Death, destruction, subjugation, politics by another means.
N: War is also oxygen, for big business.
t: Full freezer and empty bowls.
N: The eternal tussle between the haves and the have-nots
t: You should be a poet.
N: Don't deflect. Wars are about man's greed.
t: Greed is bottomless.
N: And wars never disappear.
t: MBIC.
N: Ike struck out bureaucrats. It is MIC.
t: Their dreams of dominating a world ...
N:...that would cease to exist if they win.
t: 2012?
N: Calendars are man made.
t: Why are you so enigmatic Nawwab?
N: Woof, woof.

Poetry: tweems - tweet-poems

temporal — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 00:14:02 EST

rajasthan
she pulled her palloo
across her face
and handed him his lunch
the smile on his face
spelled love
in the mid noon sun

wailing
unresolved
irreconcilable
mushrooming fault-lines
raining all over
turning walls
into wailing ones

such
kisay dhoond rahay ho?
such ko
woh busy hay
busy?
haaN - bridge tournament
oh
such khuda ka partner hay
oh achcha

truth
searching for something?
yes, Truth
Truth is busy
busy?
yes, playing bridge
oh!
Truth is God's partner
oh, ok

persiflage
so much can be revealed
how much, she asked
way too much but not all
you are mischievous
believe that at your peril

tou maiN kya karooN
suraj ki roshni
barish ki cheetaiN
kisi ki muskurahat
kisi ki bakwas
sub per barabar girti haiN

musing
sunlight
raindrops
captivating smile
idle chatter
are so democratic

irony

it is shutters down late

kiya karaiN?

we can only

make love, surf

or sleep

How Many Days of Your Life Do You Remember?

Ankur Bhatia — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 12:16:04 EDT

I don't know why but most people watch movies and praise them but don't really embrace them. Films can teach us a great deal about life.

I want to take one particular instance from a film that has inspired me a great deal and has helped me to understand and live a better life. I feel that it has a strong significance in almost everyone's life. In the film Bluffmaster, Boman Irani asks Abhishek Bachchan "How Many Days of Your Life Do You Remember?" for which the answer was a meagre 30. Thirty years old and just 30 days to remember?

Consider this point - how many days can you remember vividly in your life? When I started thinking about this, my thoughts went right back to when i was in the ninth, and I had just come back home after discovering a library which stacked all the Tintin and Asterix comics, as well as loads of Archie digests. I had picked up a Tintin (Don't remember which one) and come home. I think I had some guests over but I did not tarry. I had a bath, changed, and began reading it lying down on the bed. I remember myself very clearly saying these words "THIS IS LIFE!!!". I thought of the hundreds of comics in the library, waiting to be read and I couldn't stop smiling.

There were other memorable days, but not that many. You might ask, how much is enough. Well, nothing ever is. That's human nature and we can't help it. What we can do is put this in the right perspective. Every day that we live, we live to want more time, more money, more girls, more sex, more this and more that. Instead we should live each day in such a way that we can remember it forever. Live to ask for more such days because no matter what you say now, these will be the only days that will be worth anything in your life.

Fiction: Gobi Paranthas

Deepti Lamba — Wed, 27 May 2009 12:11:55 EDT

She undulated and left her home. Her movements were silent and went unnoticed as she slithered through the thick bushes, the planted pots, the heated stones of the driveway and through the open doors into the cool interiors of the human home.

He watched her enter and followed her as she made for darker cooler interiors- the bathroom. Her beautiful light brown scales caught the rays of the rising sun from the window before she went and coiled herself behind the frosted plastic bucket.

The youngest of the family members entered the bathroom. He peed in the pot. His mother screamed "Did you put the seat up before peeing?!" The five year olds tongue snuck out between his teeth and his eyes glimmered with surprise. His mother had caught him without even being there. She was all knowing. He flushed and scampered out of the bathroom. The snake went unnoticed and so did the one who watched the snake.

The bathroom door shut with a bang and a childlike voice could be heard demanding Gobi Paranthas. Adult voices responded. The male voice said something and the female laughed. The little boy cackled and whooped. A happy family he told the resting snake that ignored him.

She hid her head between the smooth twists of her form and felt his loneliness as he watched over her. He garnered no sympathies from her. It wasn't in her nature to empathize. She lived to procreate and to eat those delicious rats that were becoming few in number. The rains were coming, the rats were dying and there were few places left to live in moist cool solitude.

Here too, there was no peace to be found. She would have to move. The noisy human had proven the place was not a conducive habit but where would she go? It would be best to wait, even if only for a while. The cool stones beneath her lulled her to sleep.

He stayed with her for she was his brethren in nature. He lodged against the wall and waited for the next human to enter. It was the blurry eyed father who next walked in. He ran a hand over his rough unshaven cheeks and began to shave.
The snake went unnoticed. The father didn't take a bath. It was Sunday after all.
There was no need to hurry.

"Anil?! Where are you?"

"Coming! What yaar? Can't I even shave in peace?" The father of the five year old yelled back and left the bathroom.

There was more yelling. He heard them fight as did the snake catch the vibrations who was rudely woken from her siesta.

"Why do you always go to the bathroom when I lay the table?" she yelled
The father yelled back "Woman! This isn't the army. I can go to the bathroom whenever I want to."

They fought on and the snake raised her head. It was time to leave.

He nodded. Wise decision. The family could drive anyone up the wall. He would know he had suffered them since the damn house was built on his land and he was forced to live with them.

The bathroom door was left ajar and she began to make her silent trek whence she came from. He followed her till the thresh hold of the house. She slithered out of the open doorway. Out into the open where nature was distorted and pillaged by hungry humans.

She didn't look back. Why would she? He turned back to be in the midst of those whose warmth never touched him. The five year old ran through him and he felt a slight tremor in his ether and he resumed his form.

Damn humans, he muttered and watched them eat their Gobi Paranthas.

The Mysterious Psyche Of A Delhi Auto Driver

Maryann Taylor — Sun, 10 May 2009 07:35:04 EDT

Lately I’ve been observing the behaviour of Delhi auto drivers very closely. Since I refuse to drive on the dangerously insane streets of New Delhi, I’m usually left to their mercy whenever I need to get someplace. These guys, to my bad luck, have the ability to delight me, or drive me to despair, depending on their whims and fancies. I’m sure anyone who has ever lived in Delhi will agree with me wholeheartedly. These men can, quite literally, “drive you crazy”. I’d like to give them their due share of credit, though, by admiring the way they maneuver through the crazy streets of Delhi with ridiculous traffic, and nobody really following traffic rules. Delhi auto drivers, nonetheless, are an extremely interesting lot, and if you don’t believe me then read on.

Delhi auto drivers can basically be grouped under five categories, which are as follows:

• Type 1: These drivers are NEVER in their respective autos. They can be found under a tree, either taking a mid day nap, smoking, eating or playing cards with their fellow auto driver pals. This type annoys me the most, and whenever I see an abandoned auto, I have this strong urge to go and deflate its tyres. Now, if you manage to sight the driver, or it’s more like if they happen to sight you in the midst of their “break time”, they’ll just shake their heads as an indication that they’re not interested. “Then why even bother to make yourself visible” I want to shout.

• Type 2: These guys will blatantly say NO if you ask them to go someplace. And then when you ask them why, they’ll make this really sorry face and pathetically say “Madam wahan se sawari nahin miltee” (Madam we won’t get a passenger back from there). Their facial expressions are so convincing that I actually end up feeling sorry for them, and letting them go.

• Type 3: Now these guys are pretty crafty, and you really need to have your bargaining skills in place before you can tackle this lot successfully. They pretend that fare meters do not exist, and are hard bent on creating their own inflated version of the fare. They really stress me out with their ridiculous prices, and at that point getting anywhere seems like such an ordeal. But then again if you’ve lived in Delhi, you’ve obviously learned to bargain, and then negotiating a decent fare isn’t that hard, provided you’re patient enough.

• Type 4: This lot isn’t that bad. I guess they’re new to bargaining and can’t hold it for very long. Their disappointment is clearly visible on their tired faces as they turn their fare meters on. I guess they’re just plain exhausted, or don’t trust you enough with the fare you quote.

• Type 5: These guys are my absolute favourites, a minority among the auto driver community, soon on the verge of extinction. They’ll immediately agree to go wherever it is you want to be taken and switch their fare meters on without having to be told. No haggling or bargaining required whatsoever. Dealing with them is so effortless that at times it feels a little too convenient to be true. God bless them!

Fiction: Burn After Viewing (NSFW)

Deepti Lamba — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 13:01:05 EST

====WARNING: NSFW====

The fan made an irritating clucking noise and rotated above the Kalyan Sabha's chief ominously. The fan had been threatening decapitation since the socialist era but the head of the Sabha, Prakash, liked to live dangerously. Everything around him was perched precariously - the journals, the photos of his wife and kids but what were stacked neatly were pictures of semi nude and nude blondes in his mahogany desk drawer. He had cataloged them by year and by the time he masturbated to them in his office. He, after all, liked to live dangerously.

Dangerously enough to masturbate in his office but not stupid enough to have a whore give him a blow job while he fondled her teen boobs and stared hard at Pamela Anderson in her Baywatch bikini. He had an image to maintain. He was the white kurta guy and those in white kurtas never squirted on prostitutes and definitely not on their all male office staff in their not-so-Oval offices. He snickered at his own joke and fingered the key that was safely tucked in his kurta pocket.

Santosh Shrivastav was due any minute but he wanted to see his dolls one last time. He smacked his lips and felt a slight rise in his shriveled penis. Wait for Santosh or take a peek? It was post lunch time and the chaprasi was asleep and the other workers were snoozing in cool rooms in the arms of their paid by the hour beloveds. And he was bored.

He opened the drawer with one hand and held his tool with the other. Just one look. His index finger began to leaf through the stacked pictures. He knew them by heart - blond with small nipples, blond with big nipples, blond with three breasts, blond on blond, horse on blond and ah! his favorite Asian man on blond woman.

He pulled the picture out and smiled. The boy in his pajama smiled as well. He caressed his dong but the knock on the door snatched him back from the exquisite blond in a motel room to his shabby Sabha office.

"Choot!" he muttered, shoved the picture in the drawer, removed his inappropriately placed hand, tied the nala and turned the key on the drawer.

"Come!" he barked at the door. Stupid Shrivastav came at exactly three in the afternoon. Who comes on time? Only morons, he muttered to himself and grabbed one of the journals.

Shrivastav let himself in tentatively. For a man of his sizable girth, he walked lightly with a delicate elephantine gait. Rumor was he was somewhat gay. Unmarried and a bit of a loner. To put it bluntly, macho men made him nervous and he never showed interest in women.

Prakash didn't like him but he seemed to be the most cultured in his coterie of crass well-meaning bumbling workers. He was the only one who had his finger on the pulse of the urban middle class youth. Pansy Shrivastav was right for the job.

Shrivastav fidgeted on the hard wooden chair and his trouser-covered bums itched due to the holes in the woven strings of the chair's seat. Prakash sir seemed to be busy writing. Shrivastav clutched his file close to his chest. He reminded himself for the tenth time not to fold the file. It held important photographs.

Prakash finally emerged from his supposed work and eyed Shrivastav with a lofty eye.

"Yes, Shrivastavji, what do you have for me?" he asked

"Sir! The women have gone wild." He cleared his throat and nearly rolled the file. He took his white perfumed handkerchief out of his pocket and patted his sweaty forehead. They have started a Kali Sena drive against our Kalyan Sabha and here is a picture they have put up to symbolize their fight."

"What is this?" Prakash gasped. "Is that a woman? Is she showing her buttocks?" His tone went up a couple of octaves and Shrivastav felt like a mouse in a lion's den

"Sir---" he tried to speak up but was interrupted by Prakash

"And where is Kali? This thing looks familiar. Where have I seen it before?"

"Sir, I don't know but it gets even worse. They took out another picture making fun of our demand that women stop wearing trousers."

A grim Prakash reached over and stared at the picture.

"Female Ninjas? Is this how they are planning to fight our soldiers on the road? See!" Prakash thrust a stubby index finger against the picture and pinned it against his mahogany table "See! they call themselves the sluttiest Ninjas! We were right! These women need to be taught a lesson."

Shrivastav cleared his throat " Sir, this one is worrisome."

Prakash crossed his arms against his chest and rocked his chair. Sweat dotted Shrivastav's forehead again. It was getting hot in his boss's office.

"The next one they sent to our office." He held the picture close to his chest and his upper lip quivered.

"Show me" Prakash muttered.

Shrivastav's adam apple bobbed.

"Show me!" Prakash barked and Shrivastav handed him the picture.

Prakash stood up abruptly and his chair fell. The sound of metal thumping against the floor made Shrivastav jump and he delicately eased back in his chair while his chief began to stalk the office. Shrivastav's head sank into his chest. It was getting from bad to worse and it wasn't even his fault.

Prakash thundered. "They are telling us they will ambush us with assault rifles. Get in touch with the Home minister and tell him that these renegade women are threatening bodily harm and have AK-47s. Call them now!!"

Shrivastav seemed to fold over his chair. Prakash turned and looked at his quaking worker "What?! Didn't you hear me?"

"Sir! There is more!"

Prakash walked over to Shrivastav. "How many more?!"

Shrivastav whispered. "Only one sir." He kept his head down and handed over the last picture

Silence prevailed as Prakash stared at the picture. Shrivastav croaked "There was a letter with it. It said - we know about Pamela and others."

"Out!"

Shrivastav jumped up and ran for the door. He wanted out. As he opened the door he heard his boss speak to him for the last time for the day.

"No one is to know, Shrivastav. I will have your balls if this gets out!"

He paused, handing back the first three pictures and saying, "Burn these ones."

Shivastav nodded and left the room with a quiet click.

Prakash straightened his chair and sat down. For once, Pam didn't do anything for him.

Partial Solar Eclipse Today - Do Nothing

Deepti Lamba — Fri, 1 Aug 2008 02:36:38 EDT

Listen up people! If you are pregnant, if you want to go to the awesome sale at Lifestyle, if you want to cut your hair, your nails, or any part of your body for whatever perverse reasons - Don't!! And while you are at if you are about to take up any new venture - Don't - be it meeting a prospective mate or even getting lucky for the first time.

Hold your horses, your ovaries, your sperms, your purse strings - just hold on. If you happen to be a devout believer, it would be for the best if you stayed at home altogether and did nothing.

No karma is to be implemented. Lead a zombie existence. No food to be touched, hair not to be washed, nothing!! There is bad luck and pollution in the air since there is going to be a partial eclipse!!

A partial solar eclipse will be seen in India on Friday while the north-eastern parts of the country will see quite a large fraction of the disc of the Sun, eclipsed by the Moon.

"The partial eclipse will be seen in the north-eastern region, starting from about 4 PM," Director Nehru Planetarium, Rathnasree, said.

The biggest and the last phase of the eclipse will be visible from most parts of the country, except Nagaland and Mizoram, where the eclipse ends after sunset, she said.

The maximum obscuration of the sun will occur at Sibsagar in Assam.

A total eclipse will be visible in Canada extending across northern Greenland, the Arctic, central Russia, Mongolia and China.

In case any of the above activities are performed or there is the moronic viewing of the eclipse people should report to the nearest 'shudhi' center for isolation and decontamination.

Rastafarians, Talibans and Hijabis: Charsis, Afeemis and Purdah-nashins

temporal — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 03:59:25 EDT

These are not digressions on Dar ul Harb and Dar ul Islam. LINK

Talibans have it to their credit that when they controlled Afghanistan they came down hard on opium growing. From supplying nearly 4 tons (nearly 75% of the world supply) to almost zero was one big achievement.

But they also have it to their discredit that when were driven out of power they used opium to finance their movement. Colonel North of Iran-Contra infamy has not been contacted by any media for comments. Even his patron these days Faux News has been silent over this. My contacts in ISI are not returning my SMS messages.

The annual US government estimate for Afghan opium poppy cultivation shows that approximately 172,600 hectares (426,503 acres) of poppy were cultivated throughout the country this year, an increase of 61 percent over 2005, the White House Office of National Drug Control Policy said Friday. Two southern Afghan provinces -- Helmand and Oruzgan where the Taliban has been the most active -- are responsible for the bulk of the increase. Poppy planting there was up 132 percent from last year, compared to an 18-percent increase in the remaining 31 provinces. LINK

Hijab is banned in France. Other western countries are also succumbing slowly to Islamophobia and consider measures to check what they deem threat of Islamic encroachment in their backyards. Yesterday a hijabi woman was denied citizenship in France.

France's ban on religious symbols and apparel in public schools took effect Sept. 2, 2004. The ban includes all overtly religious dress and signs (including Muslim headscarves, Sikh turbans, Jewish skullcaps and large Christian crosses). However, the furor over the ban has focused mainly on the banning of Muslim headscarves or hijabs.

There are about five million Muslims in France – five to 10 per cent of the population – the largest Muslim population in Europe. LINK

Enters former Emperor Haile Selassi of Ethiopia, a god incarnate and the Rastafarians (The name Rastafari comes from Ras (literally "Head," an Ethiopian title equivalent to Duke), and Tafari Makonnen, the pre-coronation name of Haile Selassie I.) LINK

Who Are Rastafarians?

Last year Italy's Court of Cassation said cultivating even a single cannabis plant was a 'punishable offense'. And yesterday the Court ruled that Rastafarians can use cannabis.

Rastafarians have always regarded Ethiopia as the promised land, but Italy could rank a close second after its Supreme Court ruled that smoking or possessing cannabis is not a criminal offence but a religious act when the person doing it is a Rastafarian.

Italy's Court of Cassation has said Rastafarians use marijuana "not only as a medical but also as a meditative herb. And, as such [it is] a possible bearer of the psychophysical state to contemplation and prayer". LINK

We love Bob Marley. And Jamaica has beautiful beaches also in Negril and Ocho Rios. About Hijabis and Talibans we know less. And here, if ever, less is surely more. And if you have a clear MY on the scrabble board, with these seven letter D C I T O H O you can score big.