Get Set Reddy

Recently, less than two months ago, I was visiting Hyderabad to attend a cousin's engagement. He was getting engaged to a reddy girl. Now, I do not know what that means but I am told, it is a Hindu caste. After finishing engineering at IIT Delhi, my cousin went to US of A, to pursue The All India Famous American Dream.

During his stay in New Jersey, he met his fateful femme fatale. After spending 23 years in India and merely two years in USA, my cousin appeared to have change for the worse.

• He insisted we only eat at fine dining restaurants and order dessert after dinner.
• He always carried a water dispenser (water from NJ) where ever we went. Apparently, he was susceptible to water hazards. This made it extremly difficult for us to lug and take it into pubs.
• He carried a utility bag around his waist, the size of a suitcase.
• He had a Delhi-Yank drawl obviously. This was terrible.
• He showed pictures of his fiance and him at Niagara Falls with his fiance dressed in a salwar kameez and trainers. I had a laughing fit though he considered it very rude.

Sometime in the month of April, my parents, missus and I and a whole bunch of people I do not know and want to know, headed to the IT Das Kapital. I wasn't fully aware, in the month of April, Hyderabad is a phlogiston. I had packed a few woolens and many perspiring clothes for the engagement party. I had myself to blame for this huge blunder even when my wife clearly saw it on National Television that the temperature in Hyderabad was perilously close to 40C.

The entire trip had a bad beginning with my cousin's grandfather forgetting his box of, this is true, suppositories and realising this half hour before take-off. Shit. The flight was delayed for two hours due to technical difficulties and when we finally landed in Hyderabad, my cousin's family had already arrived and left.

Apart from a few life-threatening mishaps that failed to execute, we were all in Hyderabad in one piece. I insisted that we (parents, wife and I) stay in a hotel, while my cousin and his fiance insisted we stay with them in their bungalow in Jubilee Hills. Unless I know the people I am visiting very well, I prefer staying in hotels after one bad experience.

This was a few years ago when my wife insisted that I stay with her uncle on a trip to Mumbai. So did her uncle insist. He was very warm and receptive, like all normal families are, until the next morning. Apparently, her uncle practised AOL (Art Of Living) passionately (I wasn't warned about this earlier) and wanted to institutionalize me into this art form. Not only did he wake me up at an ungodly hour of 3:30 hours, but also insisted I take a bath with cold water and fart loudly. We performed Sudarshan Kriya and many other tongue-twisting yogasanas till 5:00 hours. At 5:00 hours, he promptly left me in the living room and went back to bed. I couldn't get any sleep after this rigorous exercise, I was ver sore and unable to go through my day long meetings. At 7:00 hours, he offered me Dahlia seeds with milk for breakfast. After that one instance, I have never met this uncle again.

The bad experience continued with my cousin's fiance's grandmother who isn't educated was screaming, I kid you not, Randi! Randi! on spotting us. We were all taken aback, until my cousin chuckled and said, everyone in Sunita's family is that. The hosts were kind enough to provide us, a chauffeur driven car. After buying stuff worth a few Nizam Jewels, we got back to the bungalow for dinner. I have to tell you, we were all very pleased not to find the grandmother in the front yard.

The entire next day we spent like crazed tourists seeing the sights & sounds of Hyderabad. The only choice of food available at restaurants is birayani & biryani. I wasn't particularly complaining but my mother was summoning the chefs at every eatery and teaching them the art of roti making. At that point, I feigned, I didn't particularly know her. That evening was the big function.

My wife was dressed up in a kimono and I was wearing a muscle tee and shorts for the engagement. I am kidding. I was wearing an unusually heavily embroidered Sherwani while my wife made many failing attempts to wrap a sari around herself. I was so well-dressed, I had a few strangers come by and congratulate me on the impending marriage. This process continued until I moved my wedding ring from my ring finger to my middle finger.

The party was in their compound with the entire house lit up with fancy serial lights. It was beautiful until the real tamasha began.

• The guest list contained more people than the population of all the Scandinavian countries put together. Apparently, my cousin's FIL is a highly influencial Reddy. I think for their wedding, they will book the entire Pragati Maidan.
• There were absolutely no pretty women in the gathering. Most were below 16 and the rest were above 60 with innumerable kids thrown in for nuisance value. I was informed later that reddy girls of marriageable age are not invited to functions. It is a hoodoo belief, I think.
• The place looked like a remake of Mackenna's Gold though the actors were fat, ugly and dark. I wondered where Mr. Omar Sharif was.
• I have never ever in my entire life seen so many dhotis and ghunghats slip. This appeared to happen naturally causing very little alarm among the people in the vicinity. The bad part was neither of them were stirring anything in my underbody.
• Most of the men were dressed like parole convicts while their respective partners were extravagantly dressed. If anybody wants to rob gold for a living, this was the place for it. So much gold, even a blind man could lay his hands on some.
• Some high profile ministers were also invited for the engagement, which ensured that there were lots of fat men in Safari suits and dysfunctional guns surronding us. Occasionally, a sniffer would come by and smell my unmentionables.
• I am not bigoted but my wife believed a lot of people in the party were wearing tacky Chiffon and Georgette saris. She claimed they couldn't carry them off. I do not know what the expression means.
• She also claimed, most of them were putting-on-an-Hyderabad-Yank accent until she had to tell them all that we were not from The States. They were all a huge source of entertainment for me.
• The food was an all south-indian affair. I did not recognize anything but an array of vegetable salads. The food was extremely spicy and floating in oil yet very tasty. I ate most of everything without prejudice. I spotted my mum having a crash course on roomali rotis while my dad was chatting up some heavily-clad aunties. With my dad, language is the least of his worries.
• My cousin seemed to have taken a liking for the reddy clan instantly. Not that he had much of a choice but my belief strengthened when I saw him gifting dime-a-dozen use-and-throw razors to some of his fiance's uncles.
• The bride-to-be was dressed in a traditional south-indian sari. The sari was so scintillating, I was gently reminded of J.J Thomson's Alpha-Particle Scattering Experiment.
• During the entire party, the responsibility to take care of my cousin's grandfather was shouldered on me. He kept chewing me up on buying him suppositories until I fed him some mango pickle. I think he will always remain grateful to me.

The hosts were extremely garrulous yet courteous. The next morning we left Hyderabad with oodles of weight and a burning ass. My cousin wants to move to Hyderabad after marriage and involve himself in land-grabbing activities.

The only thing that is still bothering me is, after the party a lot of members of the reddy clan walked over to us ( wife and I) and as a parting nicety with a smile on their face said, rape randi...

Yours sambasiva reddy.

Tom, Dick and Marry

I have a nondescript brother. If I am the black sheep of the family, to call him anything will be racial. What he doesn't make up in weight, compared to me, he amply makes it up with stupidity.

He is easily considered the missing link in our otherwise perfect family. Born between my sis and me, he is in the middle of nowhere. That also explains the age gap. I do not know what he is upto these days. My father and I strongly believe, he is a closet gay.

Every now and then, we keep hearing about him on the radio or seeing him on the television. Sometimes, he is a celebrity hairdresser or celebrity disc jockey or celebrity bartender. I spot him at social dos at times, clad in a peach pin-stripe suit and blonde hi-lites. He is always rubbing shoulders with the beau monde, by which, I mean, serving us drinks.

Co-incidentally, his favorite singers are Freddie Mercury, Boy George, Aretha Franklin, George Michael, Marilyn (if memory serves me right, he/she/it sang the hit single Calling Your Name) and ofcourse, Eminem.

While we were burning midnight oil heating upto Cricket at odd hours, our pal continued to chew every fashion magazine. It is no wonder, my sis loves him to pieces. Even as a kid, when we were playing Cricket, Football and Honey! I Stained Your Couch, he was busy crossing his legs and learning the art of smocking.

At one point, he even had a girlfriend. We are still trying to find out, why?

Anyways, while I had enough writing about my bro, I decided to browse through Blogs Of Note for creative flagellation. I insist, everyone who reads my blog also read Rasheed. After a few lines, I was scrimmaging with my education. I, then realised, why our brothers from the Middle-East insist on As-Salaam-Alaikum to Yo, wassup doug?

A few months ago my brother decided to, hold your breath, get married. Instead of telling us, his family about this huge decision, he decided to publicize this matter over the Internet. He registered with one the innumerable matrimonial websites and marked all responses to reach my official mailing address. Cheeky Bastard!

I know bo-diddley about online matrimonial websites. Not until recently, atleast. I received a mailer from Monster Jobs.com telling me to Get Lucky Twice! Upon further investigation, I found out, the job site is now a business partner of Monstrous Singles.com helping their registered members find a satisfying job and partner of their choice, all at the same time. This is absolutely true, they said, Try It For A Month Or Your Money Back.

I arrived at work one morning to find 72 new emails. On close inspection, I figured out that my bro was ready for Carpe Homosapien. I instantly rang my mum to share the good news until this happened.

Annotated below are real marriage proposals my bro received from eligible singles. I may have slightly modified the content for better readability. I have not made them up, God's truth.

• Name: Appu, Male, 34 years, Never been married.
  Physical Attributes: 5' 11", 0 kg, Sharp features, Fair complexion, Medium built, Is not blind, Not physically or mentally challenged.
  Education & Ethnicity: Doctor degree, MD, Monthly income over 1 lakh, Christian keralite, Mother tongue English, Moderate cultural values, Western culture.
  Personal Details: Do not smoke, No children, Not vegetarian, No hard drinks, Own an economy car. Love movie, piano and tennis. Kerala malayalam parentage. Catholic faith. I is looking fur cute kuttis.
  
  Looking for: 5'4" to 5'4", 25 to 30 years, Never married, USA, Christian, Any mother tongue, Doctor, Engineer, Government / Defence, Finance / Banking, Corporate, Over 1 lakh p/m, Beautiful features, Fair complexion, Big built. Should not be mentally or physically challenged. More details upon contact.
  
• Name: Rj, Male, 39 years, Divorced.
  Physical Attributes: 5' 10", 90 kg, Sharp features, Dark complexion, Athletic built, Have a deranged cat.
  Education & Ethnicity: Masters degree in nothing specific, Consultant, Consulting business owner, Over 1, 00, 000 p/m, Christian, English mother tongue, Modern cultural values, East or west India is the Best culture.
  Personal Details: Born-again Christian, Humorous, Afectionate, Loyal, Adventuresum. Previous marriage ended - not by my choice details later.... Have 3 beautifull childrens .. not looking for a surogate (step) mother ..they have a lovelying mother who takes good care of them. I am a profesional with the well settled business. I am born in India, grewed up in Africa and have living in the US for 20 years. Still visit Kerala to see my parants. Love casual tennis, goolf, boating, cooking and travels.
  
  Looking for: Any height, 32 - 37 years, Any marriage, Any country, Christian, Malayalam with any occupation, With any monthly income, Sharp features, Any complexion, Any built, Any physical disability.
  
• Name: Sumati, Female, 29 years, Never been married.
  Physical Attributes: 5' 2", 50 kgs, Fair complexion, Slim body, Sharp features, My grandmother is senile.
  Education & Ethnicity: Medicine - General / Dental / Surgeon / Others, Doctor with Government / PSU, Annual income is 15000, Oriyan, Middle class, Nuclear family.
  Personal Details: i AM MINI...I HAVE A FREE CHARACTER. LOOKING FOR A LOVING, CARING PERSON. I LOVE EVERYONE IN MY FAMILY. I HAVE LIBERAL VALUES.
  
  Looking for: Partner preference not available.
  
• Name: Phule Dixit, Male, 47 years, Never been married.
  Physical Attributes: 5' 81/2", 94 kgs, Wheatish complexion, Well built, No physical or mental disability.
  Education & Ethnicity: Bcom, Clerk in a nationalized bank, 11500 p/m, Maharashtrian, Lower-middle class, Marathi mother tongue.
  Personal Details: I am beautiful persin, Very homely, Have traditional value smart, Intelligent and Friendly in nature. I is having a very good familyy value from a highly educated family. I loves Acting, Art / handicraft, Doncing, Film-making, Gardening/ landscaping, Paintting, Potography, Playing mouth organ.
  
  Looking for: Any height, 33-38 years, Any marriage, Any religion, Any education, Any country. The candidate must be Loyal, Loviing and Carring. Should be no-smoker and no-drinking.
  
• Name: Kssubin, Male, 27 years, Never been married.
  Physical Attributes: 5' 7", 110 kgs, Wheatish brown complexion, Average built, No recorded special cases of dementia.
  Education & Ethnicity: Bcom, Accountant with PSU, 2, 00, 001 - 3, 00, 000 annual income, Hindu, Malayalam mother tongue, Chaste family values.
  Personal Details: I eat non-veg occassionally. I also drinks and smoking too. I like Photography, Singing, Dancings, Astrology / Palmistry / Numerology, Classic Indian - typically Indian formal wears and Latest film songs, Bhajans / Devotional. I am talktive man, I am trying to engage all times. I am trying to all momet is memmorable. I like photography, cinema and chating friend. I am watching cartoons channels. My family is moderate. I have one dad, one mom and one sister. Father is doing business, mom is house wife. Sister not available.
  
  Looking for: 5'0" - 5'4", 40 - 42 kgs, Never been married, No children, Wheatish, Wheatish cream, Wheatish medium or Wheatish brown complexions Slim body, Ezhava religion, Liberal family values. Can eat anything but cannot drink or smokes.
  
• Name: Daljit Inderjeet, Male, 44 years, Divorced.
  Physical Attributes: 5' 10", 60 kgs, Vary fair complexion, Big built, Mentally Challenged: HAHA.
  Education & Ethnicity: BA (PASS), Bisness, 300000 annual income, Cyber owner, Bodhay Sikh, Kark Raasi, Seere Gothram, Punjaban family values.
  Personal Details: DECENT GUY GOOD LOOKING. I IS A SIKH BOY I WANT IK PUNJABAN MUNDIYA. I LIVE PUNJAB.MY BISNESS CYBER COFFE. Iam looking a hunsomd man who can care for me in my old age .. Iam still young looking.
  
  Looking for: Two brothers, one sister.
  
• Name: Huzefa, Male, 34 years, Never been married.
  Physical Attributes: 5'6", 95 kgs, Fair complexion, Slim built, No special cases.
  Education & Ethnicity: Diploma in Computer Hardware, Civil Engineer, 200001 - 300000 annual salary, Muslim, Dawoodi Bohra, Gujarati mother tongues Loose family values.
  Personal Details: I AM A SMART, CARING, CONFIDANT, LOVVING, GUY WITH LOTS OF DESIRES IN LIFE. ACCORDING TO ME LIFE IS A CHALENGE THAT U HAVE 2 ACES AND SUCEED IN IT. I M A MODERATE PERSONEL. ACCORDINGS TO MY FRIENDS I M A COOLY PERSON. MY GREATEST AMBITION IN LIFE IZ 2 BECOME A SUCCESFULL MAN. IN MARRIGE RELATION SHOULD BE GOOD, UNDERSTANDIBLE, HONEST, CARING. I AM LOOKINGS FOR SMART, LOVING, CARING, EDUCATION, CONFIDANT, UNDERSTANDABLE. MY PARENTS ARE OPEN MINDED RELIGIOUS PERSONS. THERE ARE FOUR MEMBERS IN MY FAMILY. FATHER, MOTHER, BROTHER, AND BROTHER IN LAW. PS: A picture's worth a thousand words! Would apreciate if you 2 having a picture. I wouldn't want to communicate with a Elusion!Will tel you when i meeting you... a personal intereaction is more important for these in depth analysis. My meternal pedigree is well settled all over the world for the last 50 years. Hence i dont need that "lucrative push to settle overseas".
  
  Looking for: Any body is okey.

I cannot possibly post all the proposals he received. I have taken printouts of all the proposals and intend to display it at our next family reunion.

Your carings brother.

Didi Aur Woh

I was flabbergasted, after last night's party. After reading my post on my very own dad, my in-laws (read: FIL, MIL, wife's brother, wife's brother's wife, Chintu, wife's sister, wife's sister's husband, Mintu & Pongy dressed up as a nurse) popped a bottle of Moët & Chandon to celebrate. Just how deviant can people be?

The mad doghouse has way too many rules. My father is driving me crazy. Rules include:

• No smoking or drinking. Apparently, its bad for his new found fancy, potted plants.
• Eat you dinner before 20:00 hours. If I don't get back from work by then, I do not get any food.
• No watching television beyond 00:00 hours. It is true, I watched the entire Spain vs France match in complete darkness and the television sound muted. I felt like an invalid.
• Take a shower at 6:00 hours. Apparently, your toxins are at their active best.

I have asked a few friends to accommodate me for a week.

The topic for today is my sister and her husband. Little about my sister and a lot about her husband.

While my sister was considering semi-retirement plans, botox and a dog for companionship, I was keeping a weekly tally of my warts & pimples. Yes, while I belong to the age of sex, drugs and rock n' roll, my sister is a direct descendent of the Ape Man.

While I was listening to The Beatles, she was grooving to Chuck Berry. I am not sure how many years seperate us. After many years of celibacy by religion, my father in a sudden spurge of pelvic thrusts produced me. That explains the age gap between us. My mum tells me, after what happened, he said, it was absolutely unintentional.

My sister did all the right things. Studied the course my father wanted her to pursue, played with barbie dolls, dressed up like a girl, did not have a boyfriend till she married one, respected all elders, helped my mum with daily chores, nerdy, etc. She was a high-school heart throb of many, by which, I mean, she caused many coronaires for all the wrong reasons.

She then went onto study at one of those B-Schools when she met her current husband. My sister lived by those love cliches. Odi Et Amo. Love is blind and so am I. My sister is a pretty woman who could easily win the Miss Beauty Pageant Contest For Naturally Pregnant Women.

None of us ever understood why she wanted to marry him, yet we had to accept it. I recall, just before she was heading to consummate her marriage, I told her, you couldn't possibly be serious about this. She was majorly offended by my remark and wouldn't speak to me for many years, not that I complained.

In an emotional letter she wrote to me, the next morning, she said, Love is not the dying moan of a distant violin - it's the triumphant twang of a bedspring. I was terribly moved.

Over the decades, I have managed to maintain an amicable relationship with my BIL. We speak four times an year, on the telephone, for his birthday, for my birthday, for their anniversary, for my anniversary. I believe, its a huge task.

• My BIL does not like any sport. People, the world over, are still trying to find a sport that he might enjoy. The easiest way to win Who Is Macho? is by simply asking him sport-related questions. At a family picnic, after several attempts to play Cricket, we decided he was best suited to be the third umpire.
• My BIL does not watch movies. The last movie he watched, chronologically speaking, could be, this is true, Stagecoach.
• My BIL does not listen to music. I have found at his place, HIStory: Past, Present and Future, Book I, Michael Jackson as the only living proof that he has listened to some music. Apparently, the CD was a gift to him from his gay cousin.
• My BIL is devoutly religious. You can spot him, slow down his car, take his hands off the wheel and eyes off the street, when he spots a shrine along the road. This makes me absolutely delirious. After that one instance, I have never braved to sit in his car.
• Talking about driving, my BIL is crazy. I think everyone who is our relative by virtue of marriage is crazy. Apparently, his driving skills or lack thereof stem from deep rooted psychological problems. It is true, his parents disallowed him from playing Need For Speed.
• My BIL is a social misnomer. The only time he shakes a leg at a party is, is to refill his glass. He usually stays close to the bar counter and very far away from the dance floor. It has been found that he possesses several left feet.
• My BIL loves cars, guns, airplanes, etc. The typical male syndrome. I recall, he was thrown out of a car exhibition once. He was found bonking the car horn. I do not think they will ever allow him into a Vintage Car Show.
• My BIL wanted to join the NDA, I am told. I asked my sis, why didn't he make it? After much deliberation, she said, he failed the fitness test. No wonder.
• My BIL loves watching National Geographic. I think its totally perverted. I have asked him several times to turn off the channel when Pongy is around. It gives her ideas.
• My BIL is absolutely clueless about cooking. He has never cooked and we are all very grateful for that. On their home computer, I found several .PDF files including How To Build A Bomb From Over The Counter Ingredients, How To Start A Forest Fire, How To Boost A Car & Easy To Use Guide: Pressure Cookers.

I hope this is good enough for me to go back home. I cannot bear another day at my dad's place. Even though, my BIL, over the years, has loved my sister immensely, I still tend to admire him from a distance.

Yours wohfully.

Sleeping With The Enemy

Pandemonium struck last night. My wife finally figured out what was keeping me busy through the nights. When I got back from work last evening, my house was full of guests; my dad & mum, my FIL & MIL, my wife's BIL & Sis with Mintu and Pongy, my BIL & Sis with AK and my wife's brother. I was dumbstruck to see my entire immediate family at home, sitting grimly, like something bad had occurred.

Everyone including M & P had these piercing eyes, which suggested, our goldfish must have finally died. They were due this summer. Before, I could ask what happened, my wife brought out a huge bunch of printed material and dumped it into my arms. On close inspection, I realised, the contents belonged to me. It was my blog. My initial reaction was WOW!, Have I written so much material?

My wife, after finding the blog, had invited everyone involved, except my wife's brother's wife who was still unable to move. Everyone around me were holding a violent object for aesthetic value. I wanted to run across the living room to my mother, grab the cleaver from her arms and commit Seppuku.

The silence of the gathering was broken by my father. He was holding a Woomera while my FIL was holding a Atlatl. My father's first question was, Are you frustrated? Problems with teenie-wienie? Psychological problems? etc. After reeling out all the problems he had, he finally ended his harangue with, I am ashamed of you. At this point, it appeared, everyone was ashamed of me, including pornstar Pongy.

After a never-ending discussion and explanations, everyone decided that I was to live in my dad's dog-house for a week. Quarantine.

At no point during the entire conversation did my wife show any signs of sympathy. I picked some work clothes, night suits & my computer and drove to my folk's place. I couldn't obviously eat dinner.

While I sat down in solitude, I imagined, the only way of redeeming myself was to write about my own family. The first person I could think of was my dad.

• My dad is a stickler for time. I recall, some years ago, he was hopping mad at us for being late to a funeral. He said, What if we were late for it? He is the sort of person who will leave four hours before a flight, risk-managing contingencies such as tornadoes, floods and three flat-tyres.
• He is absolutely impatient. Doctors have warned him against watching Test Cricket.
• He is a road kill. Two things he always does when he is driving; one hand always on the horn and one leg always on the accelerator. He never looks at the road ahead because he is very busy, screaming at senseless drivers.
• He is absolutely health-conscious. He believes fast-food is the Hand Of Satan. We walked out of McDonald's once because they didn't serve steamed Idlis.
• He hates pets. I suspect he let the cat out of the bag onto the goldfish.
• Apparently, when you go to The Holy City Of Varanasi, you are expected to sacrifice something dear to you. After repeated attempts to lose my mum unsuccesfully, he gave up reading. The last time, my dad has read anything of significance was 30 years ago.
• He is petrified of injuries. A few years ago when my mum cut her finger with a kitchen knife, he called an anaesthesiologist and a microvascular surgeon.
• He has a personal collection of porn movies, stacked separately with titles & reference codes. It was from this collection, I gained the much needed entry into adult cinema.
• He is a totalitarian, by which, I mean, he is very poor with math.
• Recurring Dream: Avtomat Kalashnikova with infinite bullets, shooting aimlessly at the north-western frontier.
• My dad has a lethal sternutation. My great-grandfather and my dad's grandfather, after many years of smoking cigarettes and philandering died of heart attack. The cause till date is mysterious. The legend says, at the time of his death, my father was with him.
• Many years ago, my dad once told us about his fascination for stilettoes. Apparently, he loved wearing them in private. He loved the sound they made while he sashayed endlessly in his Glockenhose. (bell-bottomed pants)
• My dad has been bald for 24 years now, yet he insists on going to a hairdresser every month religiously.He says, he enjoys leading a normal life like all the other men.
• My dad was apparently a superstar cricketer during his days. He had once invited my mother to watch him bat. Even before he could face a single ball, he was runout. That was the last time my mum ever watched him play any sport.

I intend to send this post to my in-laws. I hope they can all have a chuckle and allow me to live with my wife.

Yours problematically.

Trivia And Naazuk Alkananda

Sorry, my faithful readers. I was so busy all of yesterday, I didn't have a moment to visit the washroom.

For all my uninformed readers, every Monday, I write about the weekend gone by. I decided to change the trend this week.

I have received some hate mail over the weekend. I would like to inform you all, my wife is not an unpad gawar like most of you think. Instead, she has a double honors degree in anthropology. I love my in-laws like I love Kashmir. All the characters in my blog are real although some aspects of my blog may remind you of The Royal Tenenbaums recently aired on Zee Cinema. Chintu, Mintu and Pongy and all the other characters are real and the events and actions potrayed reflect real life incidents. I am not that innovative & creative.

Today's topic is about my sister-in-law. My SIL's fictional name is Naazuk Alkananda. I never understood the Alkananda connection until my wife told me that her mother conceived during their stay at Alkananda Guest House in Kalipong. Now you all know why I just love my in-laws?

My SIL has two beautiful children; Mintu & Pongy. Mintu over the years has emulated his dad, while Pongy is growing up to be a pornstar. My SIL loves cricketers, footballers, golfers, film stars & our plumber. She is the sort of person who will go a movie premiere and wait endlessly, for say, Johnny Walker to walk into the theatre or at a Kenyan Cricket Team pratice for an autograph from Nehemiah Odhiambo.

It is true, my SIL forgot to feed her kids for six hours because her neighbor told her, some fanatics were burning an effigy of Sourav Ganguly around the street corner. At that time, she didn't know the meaning of the word.

Her fascination is not with the game but the game makers. I once spotted her drooling at a groundsman. I had imagined, her knowledge on cricket, football, etc was innocuous until a few days ago.

Real Cricket Trivia:

• Did you know, Sourav Ganguly wears two sets of underwears to all important matches? This is done for extra protection. He was recently spotted doing so in a game for Glamorgan. He was once caught telling Shoaib Akhtar, You have to reduce your pace by a few notches. It is bad for my ribs.
• Did you know, Inzama-ul-Haq disappears the night before any international match? It has been found, he was attending, this is absolutely true, a crash course in English.
• Did you know, Navjot Singh Sidhu has replaced the holy scripture Sri Guru Granth Sahib with a copy of Roget's Thesaurus and Wren & Martin.
• Did you know, Wasim Akram's infamous Vaseline incident is purpoted wrongly? On a private Pakistan Television Channel, he confessed, he was not intentionally doctoring the ball but merely rubbing off the excess Vaseline from his pre-match innuendo.
• Did you know, Shane Warne did not use Moduretic on his mother's suggestions. It was indeed, yes, you guessed it right, Vivid Virility, a performance booster. During his one year ban, Shane Warne worked with St Kilda Saints Australian Nymphomaniacs Club as head coach. After, much deliberation, Australian's National Anthem Waltzing Matilda was replaced by Horny Warnie.
• Did you know, after the infamous victory of Sri Lanka at Eden Gardens in 1996, Vinod Kambli confessed, I Gave Up Wanking, in a tear-filled, emotional post-match interview. As a farewell song to him, the Indian Team, after many years, sang Absolute Cunt Of The Day.
• Contrary, to the popuplar belief, did you know, Chetan Sharma purposefully bowled that infamous low full-toss on Javed Miandad's legs-side in the finals of Austral-Asia Cup, 85-86. It is a well-guarded National secret, that Abdul Jalil "Chacha" was holding his hamster for ransom.
• Did you know, Krishnamachari Srikkanth, is the only Tamil cricketer who can speak in Hindi. For many years, he consistently provided the bowling team their first break through.
• Did you know, Ajit Agarkar has a good-looking wife? His cricket statistics are not worth the mention.
• Did you know, the movie Lagaan is loosely based on The Invincibles, '48. How loosely, we do not know.
• Did you know, Parthiv Patel's idol is Joe DiMaggio. He later confessed, he heard the name on Billy Joel's 1989 hit single We Didn't Start The Fire from Storm Front. There is a movie based on Patel's life, titled Parthiv Patel: The Curse Of The Bambino.
• Did you know, Anshuman Gaekwad, on National Television was heard saying, After a spate of low and inconsequential scores, Virender Sehwag's game is now flawed. It is the bat design. He must start experimenting with bats-with-no-edges for the World Cup.
• Did you know, Mohinder Amarnath cannot speak English? During his stint with Durham, he was no-balled 4 times. In an interview many years later, he recalled, the officiating umpire didn't understand Hindi. Apparently, he was no-balled because the umpire did not comprehend dakShiNa pakSha-haath-Upara se.
• Did you know, the ICC is working on a nonracial sledging guide?
• Did you know, the ICC is soon planning to introduce colored uniform for Test cricket. This reform will be initially implemented in Kenya, Bangladesh & Zimbabwe. This is to reduce the prohibitive laundry costs. Gerald Majola was also heard saying use of Whites as a Test uniform was racial.
• Did you know, in Australia, streakers and flashers are punished with criminal offense. This rule was implemented in 1992, the year Shane Warne debuted. It wouldn't have been so drastic until a Pura Cup game where Warne was caught slipping between fine legs.
• Did you know, the ICC is working on a project for the blind & deaf. I am not sure if it is for a game of Cricket.
• Did you know, on Christmas Day, '97 at Indore's Nehru Stadium, the second one-day international between India and Srilanka was abandoned? What I didn't know is, is Richie Benaud said the pitch was dry & cracked and looked increasingly like Arun Lal's face.
• Did you know, Mandira Bedi's introduction to The World Of Cricket was so revolutionary, it sparked off two events. a) Charu Sharma suffers from progressive paravertebral muscle dystrophy, by which, I mean, he has a bent spine syndrome. b) Women Cricket Association of India.

Please send me your email addresses, if you want the entire list. I am amazed.

Yours trivially.

Parent Teacher Afflictions

I have a strange tendency to use the titles of recently watched movies colloquially. The latest being Fanaa. I was never particularly strong with languages. As a matter of fact, I wasn't very academic. If I were, I wouldn't be blogging. I would be doing something serious like my wife.

This space is now available for advertisments.

Like a fool, yesterday at work, I told my secretary, I want to Fanaa you. Little did I know what it meant at the moment. Soon after my secretary's husband arrived to Fanaa me. It was really crazy & embarrassing. I got back home and had a huge argument with my wife on foreign languages.

Today's topic is Parent Teacher Associations (PTAs). Though I do not claim any children of my own, I was subjected to a PTA meeting recently. It is a secret congregation of parents & teachers and lots of pestilence (kids) that ruin a perfect Saturday. The school Pongy & Mintu go to guards this congregation as a matter of life and death. The school compels you to cancel exotic holidays just so you can meet the teachers and discuss your child's future.

Two Saturday's ago, P & M's parents had to urgently go out of station since someone near & dear was battling from acute diarrhoe. P & M's mum happens to be my wife's sister. I only know this detail because she call me Jeejaji. It was unavoidable for us to act like foster parents and take P & M to their school for a PTA. The only reason why I agreed to do this favor was; I could avoid P & M's birthdays next year. Also, after 15 years, I didn't want either of the kids to go on National Television and say, my uncle is responsible for our failures.

M studies in grade 7 and P studies in grade 9, which effectively meant we had to meet not one but two sets of teachers. My disgust for PTA meetings stems from the fact that as a child neither of my parents attended any of my PTA meetings, which technically means, I did not have a beeping clue.

The school was complete delirium with hundreds of kids and parents. We went over to Mintu's class first. Though the teacher recognized Mintu surprisingly, she had a hire-an-hour-parents look on her face when she spotted us. I quickly jumped to our defense and introduced ourselves as Mintu's uncle & aunt. After a lengthy & discomforting explanation about Mintu's original sinisters, the teacher brought out a printed booklet, the size of our local telephone directory. This contained Mintu's Official Attrocities at school.

Teacher Grievances: Mintu

• Mintu was very irregular to school. His class present percentage was 41 while the school required 99.99999999% present percentage as a prerequisite, to allow a student to appear for annual examinations. I swear, I have spotted the kid outside movie theatres that screen adult fiction.
• Mintu for his age is already sprouting a beard and pubic hair. I had a sudden urge to rip open his shorts and confirm it.
• Mintu is unusually friendly with the boys. He has been spotted in consenting positions with some boys on the playground.
• Mintu has hideous hand-writing.
• Mintu's ability to spell, speak and write in English is nonexistent.
• Mintu was caught kissing a girl in the girl's washroom. The teacher said, we have brought it your notice since the girl calls him, Mintu bhaiya and she is only in grade 4.
• Mintu was found reading Debonair in Moral Science class. Upon further investigation we found, the book was from his father's personal collection. I was disgusted.
• Mintu was reprimanded for starting his own religion. He dispended, God liketh thy man that taketh things into thy arms.

These were a few of Mintu's offenses that I can recall. There were some that involved paramedics, a fire station, The Indian Armed Forces and a bunch of deep sea divers.

After a barrage of complaints, I need a stiff something. I excused myself from the school and headed to a close by bar. After a few stiffs, I was ready for anything. If I had a forewarning, I would have been drinking from the night before and proceeded to the school with a hip flask. This time it was Pongy's turn.

Teacher Grievances: Pongy

• Pongy is incredibly deft. Her ability to copy during examinations is rewardable.
• Pongy is very poor at academics, especially, Science and Mathematics though she knows a guy's anatomy like the back of her palm.
• In a group activity session on Who Is Your Role Model? she said, I am being serious, the girl from the infamous DPS MMS.
• Pongy is way too radical for her age. She says, if the saying goes, All Men Are Dogs, Then I Am A Bitch. It is true, when she was 7 years old, I caught her listening to Like A Virgin.
• Pongy's favorite snack at the school snackbar is Hotdog. She was suspended for a week for eating it suggestively with The Father.
• Pongy's bag has been searched for drugs one time. They found baby carrots, wrinkled cucumbers and a 17" PVC pipe.
• Pongy on most occasions does not wear a bra to school. Inadvertantly, my eyes gazed at her chest and for the first time I realised, how fully blossomed she was.

There were other incredible things the teachers told us about her. I was thoroughly ashamed. My childhood was Eastman color compared to their Blue films.

Anyways, after two weeks, I still do not know how to communicate these grievances to P & M's parents. I only hope they will fully understand their kids someday.

Yours fosterly.

Chintu's Saalgirah Mubarak!

Introductions:

I am ashamed but I have to admit, I do not know how many siblings my wife has. Almost every Sunday, my wife has a quick-fire round on who's who in my family quiz questions, which I always fail. My best figures to date have been 4/10.

Yesterday happened to be Chintu's birthday and for the first time I realised Chintu was my wife's nephew, by which I mean, Chintu's dad is my wife's own biological brother. My initial reaction was not surprise but dismay, which possibly caused another argument between us about the validity of the truth.

Chintu's dad is an ostentatious, boorish man who made it big during the dot-com outburst. He is a nice sort of bloke when you don't have to meet him in person. I do not particularly dislike him but dislike my entire set of in-laws, without prejudice. I cannot possibly tell you all the reasons here since I make a very clear distinction between my personal and professional life.

It was Chintu's 12th birthday and they sent out an outrageous invitation with innumerable spelling mistakes. The party was at Chintu's farm house, 53 kms from where we lived. I was definitely not keen on going to a kid's birthday party. Not because, it was far out or I had to meet my in-laws but simply because it was ridiculous to drive 53 kms to sip on Pina Colada.

The invitation also mentioned in bold "keepink with our Sun's lickings V hav decided 2 hav a team party for him. The team is: Super Heros". This was ridiculous because, neither did I have the time to go and buy myself a costume nor did I have something ready in my wardrobe for it. I told my wife I will play Clark Kent and put on a fine 3-piece suit. She called me an uncreative & unimaginative lout and proceeded donning her artificial talons.

I wanted to gift Chintu books (Enid Blyton, P.G. Wodehouse, etc.) and give him a headstart with the art of book-reading while my wife wanted to buy him replicas of American Militia that included hand grenades, guns and a rocket launcher. After an enormous argument we settled for a Pooh Bear Soft Toy. I am just kidding. We got him several violent gifts. We are honing him to be a terrorist.

We reached the venue at 20:30 hours. The place was already teeming with dozens of Supermans, Spidermans, Hulk Hogans, Undertakers (to shift some old members), Elektras, He-mans, etc. The congregation of Mattel Toys.

Happy Birthday:

The place was beautifully done up. I am not very fond of outdoor gatherings but this was exquisite. The had a two huge figurines of Alien vs Predator swaying perilously in the darkness of the night threatening to cut loose and kill us all.

While all of us looked like jokers (me in a 3-piece suit), Chintu was dressed normally in a sherwani on the day of his marriage. What I am trying to convey is, is he was dressed in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Apparently, he wanted to play Tarzan and his parents weren't willing to let him prance around on his 12th birthday in a loin cloth. Also, at the party were present many 12 year old girls.

The cake was half-a-face of Spiderman and the other half of Batman. That kid already had a crooked mind. All of us gathered and huddled around him and just when we were all going to sing the Happy Birthday song, his grandfather, meaning, Chintu's father's father and my wife's father broke into a monologue.

He briefly told us all about the History of Happy Birthday To You while Chintu matured into a fully blown adult during that period of time. Eventually, Chintu was allowed to cut the cake. A mere miracle happened at that moment. Chintu's grandfather was singing the original version of Good Morning To All, while a few of us including me sang the more popular version Go Chintu, It's your birthday, We gon' party like it's your birthday, We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your birthday, And you know we don't give a fcuk, cause it's not your birthday!

Did anyone know Marilyn Monroe performed Happy Birthday, Mr. President? That is the only detail I remember from my FIL's discourse.

Menu:

It is true, Chintu's lineage is a confused one. I do not mean to disrespect their sexual proclivities but merely let my uninformed readers know that they are a family of many colors, races and mother tongues.

Technically speaking, Chintu's real name could be Arvind Donatello Balvinder Velkezu Kumaraswamy Lovely Sherpa. I am being serious.

This information is a necessary. It acts as a precursor to what you may expect.

• Bisi Bela Huli Anna. I have absolutely NO idea what it means. Identifiable Ingredients: Rice.
• Baingan Da Burtha. Identifiable Ingredients: None.
• Makki Di Roti. Looked harmless. Nothing was going jump out and grab me. Identifiable Ingredients: Butter.
• Chiau Ko Tarkari. Identifiable Ingredients: None.
• Golveda Ra Dhaniya Ko Achaa. The name of this item was so long the placard couldn't accommodate it. My wife told me later that the last word was achaar.
• Drumstick Leaf Errisery (Loose Consistency Curry). I asked my wife, if that was the translation of the dish into English and she asked me not to be silly.
• Arrosto Morto. Identifiable Ingredients: Butcher's Cleaver. I kept my wife away from this item.
• Cappelletti. Identifiable Ingredients: Italian.

Desserts:

• Lassi Patiala
• Vermicelli Payasam
• Strawberry Custard, Fruit Salad & Jelly. (for the kids)
• Zuppa Inglese

On our way home, I bought a big loaf of bread.

Fashion Faux Paus:

No party would be complete without mentioning a few of the well dressed men & women.

• I was dressed as Clark Kent. When Chintu did not agree with me being a super hero, I immediately thrust myself forward like I was flying and missed the floor completely. I was going to be nice to Chintu only one more time. I grabbed my wife's dupatta and tied it around my neck like a cape.
• My wife was dressed as Bat Girl with a dupatta. She had to do that because she was barely fitting into her leather pants.
• Chintu's great-grand father was also dressed as Superman. He was in a wheel-chair.
• Chintu's mum was dressed as Lil'Mermaid. She couldn't move throughout the party.
• Chintu's dad wasn't dressed up. He was naturally Hanuman.
• Chintu's grand dad (also my FIL) was dressed as Austin Powers. I kept telling him throughout, at his age, he is, The Spy Who Gagged Me.
• One of Chintu's uncle was dressed as Shaktimaan. Its really hard to describe him.

There were lots of them worth a mention. I only have space for Chintu's immediate family.

Kudos!

It was a great party after all! We thanked our hosts especially Chintu's mum who couldn't get out of her chair. The party wound up around 0:30 hours. It was time for all of us to leave when Chintu's dad brought out his big present.

It was a power tools set.

• Brute Breaker Demolition Hammer
• Extra Heavy-Duty Self-Tapping Fastener Screw Driver
• 23" Benchtop Abrasive Cutoff Machine
• Heavy-Duty Variable Speed Top-Handle Jigsaw

We were all surprised by the mere monstrosity of these tools. They were all real. Chintu's dad then informed us that his son showed an inclination towards carpentry and they believed in letting their child follow his dreams.

Take-away Gifts:

When I opened our take-away gift, I noticed a packet of condoms with a note that said Please Learn From Our Mistake.

Yours happy singhly.

PMS - Private Messaging Service

As the title suggests, PMS is so far the best breeding place for cyber sex. I have to admit, over the years, I have indulged in many stimulating conversations, which has led to my unique ability; the ability to type with a single hand with the same proficiency, accuracy and speed. There is absolutely no shame in developing newer techniques to type.

I have befriended innumerable women, (I hope so) with whom I have shared many a roll of Kleenex. This turned out to be a compulsive, obsessive behavior, so much so, I started batting with a single hand.

Anyways, many years have passed since I quit this habit since I discovered voice-enabled, voice-recognition softwares. Now both my hands are free.

Subsequently I got married and everything came to a grinding halt. Several guys dressed in drag were replaced by my wife. My internet usage is now restricted to booking tickets, uploading and downloading pornographs of my family from various websites, checking email, helping my FIL and MIL find lyrics to songs since 1926, etc. My PMS life suddenly died an overnight death.

I still fear, a number of faceless buddies eagerly waiting for me to [insert] my [spacebar] into their [backspace].

Little did I know or was I aware that my wife also had/has/will continue to have till death do us apart a PMS life. When I first heard about it in theory, I was super excited. I could visualize my wife and I, sitting in different rooms with our computers and indulging in PMS till I truly discovered the meaning of it.

Medically, PMS means Psychotic Men Slayers though the more widely accepted definition is Premenstrual Syndrome. I have been brought up in a matriarchal society, by which I mean, my mum bullies my father, my brother bullies me and now my wife bullies me. Neither my mum nor my brother have displayed this syndrome in all the years I have known them. Apparently, this condition is pronounced different by the French, Italians and Germans. No, I am just kidding. PMS is severe in some women, while it is nonexistent in many men. My wife happens to belong to the former subdivision.

A Guide: What To Look Out For When Your Partner Is Beginning To Turn Genocidal. (This guide is purely meant for straight men. I do not take any responsibility for your killing.)

PMS is often associated with physical and emotional symptoms. Commonly noticed symptoms include:

• Breast swelling and tenderness. I strongly advise you men folk not to get too excited by this new development. Touch them and you are carcass.
• Joint and muscle pains. Don't call them old. Not just yet.
• Headache. Do you all understand what a preying mantes is?
• Food cravings. Stock up banana, pineapple, strawberry and kiwi flavored icecreams. You never know what she wants to eat.
• Tension, mood swings and crying spells. All self-explanatory.

Once you have observed very keenly for any one of the aforementioned symptoms, its extremely simple. Stay the beep away. See if you can find a business trip or a one week holiday to your parents' place or lock yourself inside a room for a week and lose the key. I am not exactly advising you to do any of these things but they have all worked for me.

With great adversary comes greater contingencies. We all need to counter-attack this syndrome. Logically speaking, you have two options.

• Follow my instructions on Do's and Don'ts.
• ASPMS - Acquired Symptomatic Premenstrual Syndrome. (For this it is necessary to wax your legs, armpits and chest hair and develop breasts)

Do's:

• Take her out shopping. Invest.
• Take her out to watch a movie. Make sure it is not overtly sexual or gory.
• Cook her a meal.
• Watch Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi with a genteel smile.
• Call Chintu's dad and invite yourself for dinner on Saturday night. Laugh at all his jokes and finally offer to take him on an all expense paid trip to an exotic destination.
• Compliment your FIL's dress sense.
• Offer your MIL the keys to your new car. Road kill.
• Agree to take Pongy, Chintu and Mintu to watch Kkrish and to an amusement park.
• Initiate foreplay and afterplay and forget about the sex.

Don'ts:

• Exercise regularly, get enough sleep, choose a healthy diet, don't smoke.
• Avoid excess salt, chocolates and alcohol.
• Make sure you have enough vitamin suppliments. Take 500 mg tablets of Diazepam everytime you wake up.
• Do not mention your ex-girlfriends and how they didn't suffer from PMS.
• Do not talk about your first date.
• Do not say anything about the door-knobs. Women during PMS react adversely when you speak of door-knobs in a derogatory fashion.
• Do not say anything bad about the curtains, foot mats, table mats or the fine silver bone china. Speaking anything against inanimate objects might result in euthanasia.
• Do not say anything against your in-laws. Extreme cases like mine have resulted in six-month celibacy.
• Do not say why do you need so many STs?
• Do not talk about child birth.
• Do not use the word sex. If it is unavoidable, please use the word gender.

And lastly, please hope your wife never develops PMDD. (An advanced case of PMS that usually results in blood-shed. In case you detect it early enough, please offer you wife heavy doses of Sertraline with ample Vodka.

Yours partly privately.

Mid-Week Crises

While, I am not particularly fond of Bollywood like all educated, sensible and non-Hindi speaking people, my wife lives in a myriad of Bollywood colors. She knows more about Shah Rukh Khan than she will ever know of me. I'm not fretting, really. I am just hoping SRK does not press charges against us.

Last night, with sublime Machiavellian planning, my wife managed to force me to watch Fanaa. Today's post is not about Fanaa because I did not watch the movie. While my wife appeared to be on the edge of her seat enjoying Hebrew poetry, I was busily achieving newer and higher records playing Snake II and Space Attack alternatingly. Honestly, I do not know what Fanaa means after 3 hours of acute misery.

Movie Story As Told By My Wife After Watching The Movie: Kajol is blind. Aamir Khan is not blind. Half way through the movie everyone figures out Aamir Khan is not a love-struck romeo but a terrorist. He steals a trigger to set off one of the seven nuclear weapons that the Indian Armed Forces are holding in different civilian houses spread over our country. He is stabbed and shot. He reaches Kajol's house. Soon after, Kajol is trained to shoot a gun and kills him. She returns the trigger and is awarded the Param Vir Chakra.

My today's post is on Ladies bags, totes, purses, etc.

There is a law that states the bigger the size of the bag and the countless compartments within it, the lesser are the chances you will find any money in it. Researchers in America have proven this world phenomenon though it continues to perplex them.

I have personally observed my wife remove from her bag a Rocket Launcher, M20A1B1 "Super Bazooka", Rocket propelled grenades (RPGs) and a Grumman F4F Wildcat, just because some guy on the street complimented her. She found them factitious.

Would you believe, my wife has eleven bags of different colors, shapes, sizes and textures. She has also acquired a bag from Japanese Women Association that produces, I am not kidding you, electric shock. She carries this bag, especially to all public gatherings that involve my family.

Two days ago, she and I decided to compare the contents of our respective money carriers.

Mine:

• Physical description: Three fold. Black. And fits into any of my trousers. Compartment to store credit-cards, money and a utility pouch to store loose coin change.
• It has been four years since I have changed my wallet.
• I usually have one thousand INR in my wallet.
• I have several credit-cards and have recently acquired an annex to just hold them. I am kidding.
• Picture of me when I was younger, thinner and unmarried.
• Picture of her when she was unmarried.
• A few bills of purchase.
• A cell-phone. In the other trouser pocket.
• Loose Change, incase, I have a sudden yearning to check my body weight.
• Driving License and other identification cards. I have also included a pledge that says, To whomsoever it may concern, this wallet and its attachments contain confidential and priviledged information belonging to me. If you are not me, please note any dissemination or distribution of the contents is strictly prohibited. If you have found my wallet as an act of stealing, please notify me. Thank you for your co-operation. Please dial the toll free number below for translation of this message into several Indian languages.

Hers:

• Physical description: Too many to mention. Also, I would like my readers to be a judge of the sheer monstrosity. All her bags have several compartments with a clue or a riddle in each of them leading me to the next riddle. It may take anywhere between three minutes and several hours to find money in her bag depending on the complexity of the puzzles. This is a true incident, I held back a taxi-wallah for forty five minutes while I found my way to the compartment in her bag that stashed money and paid 75/- extra as waiting charges.
• She changes her bags depending on the clothes, mood, weather, destination and believe me, What She Ate For The Previous Meal.
• I do not know how much she carries in her money purse. I am a gentleman.
• She carries several cards too that include Lifestyle card, Shoppers Stop card, Westside card, Cafe Coffee Day card, Barista card, Elite Customer at Archies and Hallmark card, Crossword Bookstore card and several other cards apart from credit-cards. Every bank is her customer.
• She has our entire album in her bag. Pictures include photos from Neanderthal Man to Chintu's dad. She also carries her 4th grade scrapbook.
• She has bills from her first ever proud purchase. It was in 11th grade when she used her dad's add-on credit-card to buy herself a bridal Barbie. Even tax-men throw away the bills but she never does.
• She carries two cell-phones. One of them is merely a contingency. What If?
• Loose Change enough to feed every beggar in our city. Incase, I have a sudden yearning to use a dumbell, you know what I use.
• She has a chewing gum wrapper with name, place and time on it. It was the first thing her brother got her when he flicked a rupee from Pongy's mum.
• She has movie tickets from six years ago. You could have easily guessed it, yes, this was the first late night movie she saw with her girlfriends without mummy & pappa.
• Platform tickets from five years ago. I do not remember their significance now.
• Safety pins, paper clips, stapler, stapler pins, several pens with different inks including a sparkles ink pen, pencils, erasers and a stationary shop.
• Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace.
• An Oxford Concise Dictionary.
• Several artefacts such as broken coffee mugs, strands of burnt cloth, a special enclosure that contains her first grey hair and her mother's guide to fix anything with Colin Cleaning Liquid including warts.
• Lady stuff like lipsticks, lipgloss, three kinds of hair brushes, mascara and a liliput beautician.

The list is simply endless. I have omitted many things that include eatables, self-protection tools including a machete and Build-Your-Home-Self-Help-Kit.

In the scheme of things, the bigger picture, monstrous handbags is least of my concerns.

Yours mid-weekly.

Cricket Basics For Housewives

I promised to dedicate a post to riggs/de riguer. Even though my knowledge on the subject of Cricket is limited to knowing how the game is played and our team composition since Farook "Brylcreem" Engineer, I believe, I have sufficient and necessary information to teach women (particularly those who like Salil Ankola for his looks and television theatrics rather than for his ability to bowl or lack thereof) about the game, fielding positions, rules, etc.

Also read riggs repertoire on this subject at http://sticky-wicket.blogspot.com/ . The only negative about knowing him is, they are schizophrenic.

I am not a cricket selector, so please do not ask me why Sachin Tendulkar is not playing in the current squad to West Indies. He is probably not playing because he hasn't scored well in domestic cricket.

Like always, I will have short, descriptive explanations for each of the following cricketing terms. I might occasionally draw similes for better understanding. That does not necessarily mean I have contempt for the game of Cricket. Should, any discrepancies arise, please regard them as a difference of opinion between Cricinfo and me.

• Cricket Bat: Much like what is used at a Dhobi Ghat. Specifications inclue: The bat when held orthogonal to the playing surface should not be taller than Tatenda Taibu. Wood is the only acceptable material as of now though there is a huge lobby of crazed environmentalists who codemn it. They have suggested, this is true, cardboard, rubber and steel as replacements. By playing the Genteelman's Game you agree not to cover the blade of your bat with pornographic suppliments. Incase, you are using a Kookaburra Kahuna, carbon-graphite is exempted. I am not kidding you, it was observed in a Pura Cup game, Ricky Ponting was batting without a cricket bat in his hand. He was found kicking the balls instead.
• Cricket Ball: Much like a Tennis Ball. Only heavier and harder. Everybody knows a ball may not weigh less than 5 1/2 ounces nor more than 5 3/4 ounces. (I do not know what ounces are) The ball cannot be bigger than a handful. No player can polish the ball with any artificial substance other than his crotch. The rule books says, this is true, "Any fielder may dry a wet ball on a towel". I am beginning to see the relevance, why Cricket hasn't gained the necessary popularity among women. The official balls are red and white in color though it has been noticed that Australians use Yellow balls for practice, West Indians use Black balls for practice, so on and so forth.
• Cricket Pitch: The actual playing area. It is a squarish bit of land of 22 yards in length and 10 feet in width. They increase the length of the pitch depending on the speed of the bowler. (It has been observed in a friendly between India and Pakistan, Shoaib Akhtar flinging the ball from the straight boundary at Sourav Ganguly) A Grand Jury comprising of an elected member from each Test playing nation (excluding Zimbabwe, Kenya and Bangladesh) decides whether a Pitch is fit to be played on. There is no specific composition for the playing surface though granite is not hugely popular.
• Cricket Wickets & Bails: Two sets of three wickets are pitched parallel to each other across 22 yards. When stumped into the playing surface; the entire length across the three stumps cannot be more than 9 inches. Also, they cannot be taller than India's One Game Wonder Parthiv Patel. Exception to the rule: The length across the stumps can be increased to 14 inches or one of the stumps be removed only when a fast bowler is in action. (There have been recorded citings of Sourav Ganguly challenging Bret Lee to bowl at his three imaginary stumps) The choice remains with the batsman. Two wooden bails are perched on the three stumps for show. The batsman has the choice to dispense the bails on a windy day.
• Bowling, Popping & Return Creases: Imaginary lines drawn parallel to the stumps, which can be adjusted by the batting side twice during the game.
• Umpire: When the game started way back in 1907 (then called gulli-danda), the game appointed only one umpire. Now they have four umpires, two on the ground, one in the comfort of an airconditioned cabin and one in the form of spectator vote. In all those grounds that cannot afford a huge projection screen, the captains have the final choice of declaring a batsman out. In all such cases, the three official umpires' decision will remain null and void. Incase an umpire is struck badly in the gonads by a ball, a replacement in the form of a family member from the bowling side is allowed to officiate for the rest of the match. In order to prevent this ridiculous disadvantage and unfair play, the batsmen have learnt to be wary of the umpire's gonads.
• Scorer: Two students studying 8th grade. With too many discrepancies arising from final scores, they have been replaced by Artificial Intelligence and kicked back into 6th grade.
• Players: Each team consists of 11 players, one 12th man, two waterboys and one masseur. Every team has a captain who is directly responsible for any monkey business on and off the field. He is usually the thinking cap of the team and is not required to excel in batting, fielding or bowling. Team India over the years has produced many captains with such calibre. During no part of the game can you bring in Big Bully Buck to bat, field or bowl since you are losing the game miserably.
• Toss: A coin flipped by a famous television personality, which usually decides the outcome of the game. For many years now, Team India has been goading Ramesh Sippy to trade the magical coin for Thakur Baldev Singh's arms.
• Runs: The purpose of the game. A run is complete when two batsmen standing on the opposite ends of the pitch run towards each other much like actors in Hindi movies. A batsman can score one run, two runs, three runs, four runs, five runs, six runs and seven runs. The possibility of scoring eight runs is bleak but not impossible. It requires a batsman to score two boundaries (4 runs) of consecutive balls.
• Outs: There are officially innumerable permutations for a batsman to get out. For the purpose of our basic guide, I have chosen ten types that include: bowled: when a batsman exposes his wickets and allows the ball to pass through his legs. timed out: when a batsman does not enter the playing field within 3 minutes of the fall of a previous wicket. The common timed out forms are falling asleep in the dressing room, taking too long to dress up, WC issues and missing crotch protection guards. caught: when a batsman strikes a ball and the ball is held by a fielder in the air before it bounces on the ground. Catches held by spectators are not out but rewarded with a free beer upon age identification. handled the ball: The batsman is not allowed to touch the ball with his hand. The rule was implemented as ICC's marketing strategy to make it a family game. hit the ball twice: the rule applies to all test playing nations except Kenya, Bangladesh and Zimbabwe. The ICC expects them to atleast hit the ball once. hit wicket: the possibility of its occurance is very bleak unless some very angry wives are playing the game. leg before wicket: the game's most controversial and confusing form of out. It is also contradicts handled the ball form of getting out. There is still no documented proof to determine how an umpire declares a batsman LBW. The legend says, umpires toss a coin to deterime the end result though there are no television replays that reveal this phenomenon. obstructing the field: incase a flasher, family member or a dog run into the playing field when a game is in progress, the fielding team has the right to appeal for this form of out. Given the number of dog citings in the past, ICC is ready to scrap it. run out: while accomplishing the task of a run, batsmen are obstruced on the field by the bowling team. Incase, the batsman is unable to dodge the fielder to reach the imaginary popping crease, the fielding team can knock off your bails. It is considered suicide in Cricketing terms. This form of out has spawned the emergence of Inzamam-ul-Haq and Arjuna Ranatunga as fine Cricket players. stumped: a sub-sect of run out. It involves enticing a batsman out of the imaginary crease by offering a snack and knocking off the bails.
• (Wide, Lost, Dead, No, Your) balls: wide ball though unacceptable by the Laws of Cricket, there have been citings of football being used to bowl. lost ball actually pronounced last ball by the English has gained popularity in South Indian Cricket. dead ball also famous with Indian Cricket means Dad bowl. no ball an act of playing book cricket.

It is impossible for me to write about all the cricketing terms in here. Also, this is only a basic course. You can register with me for An Advance Course In Fielding Positions for a small sum of money.

I do intend to write more on this topic right after Fourth Umpire.

Yours boycotting.

The Day After Yesterday

It is common knowledge among the working class that geeks (scientific nomenclature: software engineers) enjoy a two day weekend while the rest of them in government organizations enjoy at five and a half day weekend. Though I do not personally personify "A Geek", I also happen to enjoy two day weekends.

Believe me or not, I have some friends who have spent the best days of their lives inside laboratories dissecting sciurids, bananas and other human anatomy or inventing infallible weighing machines or impregnable blow-up friends while I was playing computer games, meeting girls and watching movies. The point really is, all my friends are now really jealous of me since they do not enjoy two day weekends. Would you believe that?

So, I have decided to write about the high-points of my fun-filled weekend.

Saturday:

• 10:37: Woken up by Jhalak Dikhlaja belting in a muffled tone from under my pillow. It was my dad telling me that a plumber will visit us soon, to repair the broken WC. The WC was broken in the first place because the bottle of Lizol: Lavender WC Cleaning Liquid was empty and I hadn't paid enough attention to such toilet intricacies. My wife has a terrible habit of throwing anything in her vicinity when she is angry. I am just very lucky that she isn't Jeffrey Archer.
• 10:51: The servant maid rang the bell. I hurriedly put on my wife's night suit and rushed to open the door. The maid only rings three times. Incase you are in the middle of something important and unable to attend to her within those three bell rings, you end up cleaning the floor and washing the dishes. My wife is usually unmoved by these details.
• 11:11: The plumber finally arrived and I made sure I wore the right night suit this time. Showed him the way to the broken WC and jumped back into bed. Had this eerie feeling that we were filming Pati Patni Aur Plumber. I am not exactly your morning riser, the sort of spring chicken that jumps into action like a war movie. I hustle, bustle, turn, churn and make many beast like noises until my wife brings in her friendly cattle prod.
• 11:30: The plumber gave me a list of items that I needed to fetch for him to fix the WC, which included a new WC. By now, all my readers should have realized the WC was not nonfunctional but actually broken into two by a very angry wife. I offered the plumber 50/- as tip if he could bring the stuff to fix the WC.
• 11:47: The maid servant wanted Lizol: Lavender WC Cleaning Liquid, Prill: Green Gooey Utensil Cleaning Liquid and Scotch-Brite. I am not irresponsible but I know diddly-squat about these items. Ask me where the power drill is or the motorised chain-saw is and I can instantly tell you, they are in 2nd left drawer in my wife's chest-of-drawers.
• 12:00: Wife wanted me to choose from a selection of breads: bread with orange marmalade, bread with pepperoni cheese spread, bread with low-fat butter or bread with blue/green mould. I chose to have a glass of freshly boiled milk and cereal.
• 12:30: The plumber returned with a garish green WC and other necessary stuff. I am appalled and certain that plumbers do not have any sense of color and taste. My wife slinged a burnt piece of toast in my general direction hoping it would decapitate me. This angry reaction was induced by the repelling color of the WC. After hurling some abuses again in my general direction (wife), I offered to drive the plumber to buy a shit-friendly colored WC.
• 13:12: We returned (Plumber and I). She again wanted me to choose from a selection of breads. I offered to order-in. I could hear my wife giggling and whispering on the phone about Saturday Night Plans with her girlfriends while I was involved in a meandering conversation with the plumber. After half hour, I felt I could pursue a career in plumbing.
• 13:53: Food arrived. Ate. Offered plumber some food. He ate. Paid for plumbing services, which was humongous. He said, Sahab, mein bahut saare actors or actresses ke ghar mein commodes fix karta hoon. (For my international readers, Sir, I fix commodes of many actors and actresses).
• 14:07: Slept. Switched off phone.
• 18:12: Woke up and switched on the phone. Almost immediately received a call from Chintu's dad, my wife's cousin. He wanted us to come over to his place for dinner, which I politely declined. Honestly, nobody wants to have them for relatives. Their idea of Saturday nights involves eating dinner at 20:15 and at 21:30, I am not kidding you, Chintu's dad brings out Khuswant Singh's Party Jokes from his pocket and starts reading aloud for all of us to laugh. At 22:00, he offers us to watch some VHS Video Tapes of movies such as Anand, Mughal-E-Azam and Sholay that he recorded many moons ago. Technically, on Saturday nights, I like to have a drink or two or mney mreo, enjoy a sumptuous meal and sleep. Going to Chintu's place is the last thing I want to do even if everyone else in the world has been annihilated and he (not Chintu, his dad) is holding the entire stock of liquor on our planet.
• 21:07: Met some of my wife's business girlfriends. It is true, their bust lines are bigger than their IQ, not that I am complaining. We had drinks, dinner and dance. Got home at 1:13 hours and slept.

Sunday:

• 9:30: Call from my boyfriend; dad. Wanted to know if we were eating lunch at their place. I immediately said yes. I couldn't bear another day of 'Choose From A Selection Of Breads'.
• 10:30: Woke up. Ate another fresh bowl of cereal.
• 12:30: Went over to my folks place. My wife quickly ran over to my mum and read out her log of complaints against me. I acted like I was ashamed of not keeping a tab on the liquid levels of Lizol: Lavender WC Cleaning Liquid.
• 13:15: Ate lunch. My dad spoke to all of us at the lunch table about my impending credit card bills like they were of national importance. I had to tell him that it was inappropriate and rude to open other people's letters when he made a very pertinent point. He said, Your credit card bill is not like a letter from your girlfriend that I cannot open and see. I am your father.
• 14:30: Discussed sports with dad. Like always we broke into a huge argument about the composition of the Indian Cricket Team and World Cup Football '06, Germany, which led to my credit-card bills again.
• 14:31: Slept on the couch. After I found my wings to fly, my father converted my room into a dog kennel though he does not have any dogs.
• 16:32: My mother woke me up. She said, you know, the third Sunday of June means something. I obviously had no idea. I was then gently reminded by my wife that it was Father's Day. She keeps a tab on all kinds of days such as, When We Had Our First Argument Day, When We Registered Ourselves At The Health Club Day, When Your Mother Admitted That You Were Still A Boy Day, etc. Its okay to remember these days, but breaking WC's and hurling sharp objects at me since I forgot them is ridiculous. Sometimes, she also wants to celebrate them.
• 16:36: Greeted my dad and my Father-In-Law on their special day. I offered to take my dad for drinks and dinner and he readily accepted, dang. So, I was compelled to invite my FIL and MIL to go out for dinner with us. My wife was so thrilled, she promised not to have an argument at night.
• 20:00: Changed into clothes that were more socially acceptable. Went over to my dad's place. Indulged in a half hour discussion over moods and cuisine. If, you didn't know, they are joined very tightly at the hip (I mean, moods and cuisine).
• 21:00: Finally decided to eat food. Went to a joint where you could either sit on butt-aching wrought-iron chairs or on the ground. There was really no choice and given the general average age being over 45 and lots of Orthopaedic issues, we all decided to sit on the floor.
• 22:00: The food hadn't arrived and the men began eating the cutlery and several species of small furry animals. They were ready to turn cannibalistic.
• 22:11: Food arrived. Everyone ate and complained, like always. That wasn't hot, that was too hot, that was wee bit spicy, I wish they hadn't burnt the Tandoori so much, I was chewing on the same piece of chicken for 20 minutes, etc.
• 23:40: Paid the bill with yet another credit-card. Barely hugged my father and FIL and wished them all over again on their special day. Overhead my MIL tell my Mother, When he does these touching things, we want to accept him as our Son-In-Law.
• 00:12: Argued about Television Channel Rights. I am going to buy another television one of these days.
• 00:12:32: I slept.

I have let you all into my life where the paparazzi can never get. I had such a fun-filled weekend and I do hope you all did something similar. How exciting.

I do intend to continue this Monday Morning Column based on blog viewership.

Yours weekendly.