Mango Candy

My prized mango tree adorns the fence on my backyard. When they broadened the road, they wanted to raze it, but I had fought them hard to save it. I fought everyone for all the years when it bore just flowers but no fruit. Not a single nail has ever gone through it. Though I did not plant it with a plan, now that it is big, it is all mine. And so are all the delicious mangoes which grow on it every year.

It is a matter of great responsibility to own a mango tree. More so if you vouch for all the juicy mangoes as well. Bastards of unknown origin are on the prowl, and they have an unusual preference for the hot afternoons. I have to sit beside my tree, in the sultry heat, to protect my right – my mangoes. This year has been a windfall – the tree is stooping down with  mangoes. I am so excited! They will ripen fully on the tree before the harvest. Organic mangoes are in vogue nowadays.

No, I am not planning to sell a single one. I shall distribute the fruits among my neighbours – as many as I know, as far as I can go. That will not exhaust even half of the mangoes. The rest will go into the making of the mango candy with my secret recipe. I will not sell that either. They will be distributed among my relations far and wide. All this so that everyone praises me, overlook my ills and odds.

—

The mango distribution ceremony is over and the candy phase has started. The tree is almost empty.

Something bad just happened. It is likely that the bitch which barks all night has licked my prized candy. Candies are drying on the backyard, in the sun. I have not spared it either and hurled whatever I could lay my hands on. I did not miss – it whined, and then limped away. Give her leftovers, from fishbones to chicken heads, and this is what you get in return – barking all night, and licking candy stealthily! Ungrateful bitch!

—

That foul smell had to be a carcass. And so it was: the same limping bitch, rotten, glossy and all bulged up. It looks like a murder committed with vengeance – its head has been crushed with a brick. The body was lying just outside my fence, in the shade of my tree. I have got it thrown into the canal. Good riddance nonetheless.

—

Somewhere in my big heart I am feeling empty. Only a lovely costly chubby pug can fill back my heart. This is also my chance to show off how to love a dog. I will give it costly packed food from the supermarket. Leftovers or, for that matter, cheap mango candy will not be apt for it.

 

Life on Facebook

Let me tell you how I live my Facebook life.

Firstly, you see, I need to become popular, and ‘Like’ is the unit of popularity. So after posting anything, just any crap, I press the ‘Like’ button myself! No kidding, this is an expression of self confidence. How can someone else like it if I myself do not! After some introspection, I think I figured out the real reason. What would I do when I see a random post (like one of mine 😉 ) from my friend? I would bother myself to look at it only if it certified by at least one ‘Like’.  Who will take the risk on doing a first certification ? Likewise. There is yet another benefit – the like count goes up by one. And sometimes, when my post is an absolute generic crap, it has saved my face from zero likes.

You know, I am a great connoisseur of art. At least I have to  show it off to look cool. The easiest way to achieve this is to repost already cool photos posted by my friends. I do not like some of the photos I post, but you have to do these things to remain popular. To show off the genuine artist in me I post my own random photos, like real bull shit, or my own torn rubber chappals, all shot on my cheap cell phone’s 10 MP camera. Tagging makes it much easier to tell my friends that they have some assignment.

Another nice thing about Facebook is how it helps to keep us informed. Like knowing the right moment Facebook will become a paid service, and how to avoid being charged by forwarding the message to 19 friends. I was surprised when one the prophecies which promised a surprise on the next morning turned out to be fluke. See it too was true. I have helped uncountable  charitable causes by sharing disfigured photos, grammatically incorrect and logically inconsistent passages, and other crap on my Wall. I know Facebook pays one cent for each share. Doubt these claims? Why take a chance in these important matters?

My Friend count is another status parameter in the Facebook world, and I am nearing a thousand friends. So what if I do not know most of them? I have punks, addicts, psychopaths, and people who include cryptic words and characters in their profile names. Not to mention those who use vigorously disfigured or indescent profile pics. I know these friends are just true people – like you and me.

I get a high every time I see those red numbers at the top left. There are rumours that I try to live my dream of a glorious life on Facebook to forget my reality. But stay assured all that is a propaganda. Sai Baba’s blessings automatically appear on my wall once every few days. I know I am on the right path!

Bharat Darshan

My trip starts from my home town Kolkata. On that typical hot and humid summer afternoon, I went to that drowsy rickshaw puller. He barely heard my calls, and on trying a bit harder, half opened his marijuana blessed red eyes and muttered, “Can’t go …”

“Why?”

“Because I won’t! Don’t bother me!”

… somehow reaching the Hospital’s reception for the clinical test, I asked the reception where to proceed. The glossy faced overweight woman was chatting, presumably women stuff, profusely over her mobile phone. Visibly disturbed, she frowned at me …. and came her irritated response:

“No tests today … today is a bandh …”. Yes there was a strike call by some Autorickshaw Unions.

… and thus you are relaxing. “… but … this is healthcare …how ..”

“What do you understand about politics ? It is about rights … everything can wait.”

“But … ”

“Wake up! A revolution is unfolding!”, said she, and resumed chatting.

 

 

 

And back in Delhi, one Saturday night at the pub, a group of senior school kids were stealing the show.

“Patiala Blue Label for all my friends … “, the tall and fair leader announced.

.. the confused waiter vanished .. must be to talk to his manager …

“Why won’t she like me? My dad is a minister … I can do anything… and that 10 lakh bike is sure to steal her heart”

“But …”, his friend objected … “that’s about your father … because of that incident you had to leave the school …”

“Yes … my father will settle that too … ”

“And if they don’t agree ? You almost raped her!”

“Simple … I will shoot her … all her family!”

“Cummon …. you cannot do that”

And here came the shocker: He drew a pistol – a real one … and roared “How dare you **** … I will shoot you down and your whole clan …”

Before someone says, “Aarey! Ye tow mar gya!” – We fled!

 

 

 

Once when I visited Chennai, a guy in our group had lost a piece of luggage on the train. De-boarding at the Central station we visited the station master’s office. At the complaints desk, our guy committed the master blunder … he started in Hindi.

“No Hindi!”

“Okay … someone stole my bag …”

“… or you lost it …”

“Well, …maybe I misplaced …”

“You North Indians … don’t know what happened to your own bag ?”

“I am from Assam … and not a North Indian … ”

It was simple to spot an alien: “You speak Hindi … you North Indian” … said the dark guy, his heavily powdered face bubbling with perspiration.

 

 

 

My friend Rajat’s prospective landlord in Hyderabad is a stinking rich man – and wears a massive bunch of bright yellow chains. My friend says he stinks too! He otherwise looks similar to his own driver – only with a bigger belly and a cleaner shirt. The man stuck all the gold when Hyderabad stuck the cyber-tech buzz and expanded to engulf the neighbouring villages. He owns half of the flats in the society.

They met at the lift foyer, with the landlord’s bright young son also accompanying him.

“The cyclone Thane will cause a lot of damage to those Andhra guys”, he smiled.

Oh boy! You must have totally forgot this was Telengana!

The boy goes to an international school and his dad soon went gaga about its greatness. Without any insistence he boasted of his memory skills – and soon started listing the 51 US states. And lo! He was done in below 30 seconds.

“All my flats are perfectly Vastu compliant. It works like magic in your life”, he described his flats, all of which have two things in common – their terrible design, and a kitchen in the south east – usually the best place for a balcony.

At last, my friend got his first chance to introduce himself to the boy. When he added that he hails from Tripura, the grinning boy quipped, “Welcome to India!”

 

 

After Kashmir cooled down in recent years, Deepak’s long desire to visit materialized.

An inquisitive tourist, he talks with every man he can. Riding a Shikara on the Dal Lake, he befriended his boatman. Discussing about the spate of tourism in recent times, his boatman was quick to agree, “Indians are visiting a lot nowadays”.

 

Guesstory

We love to anticipate. You must have read this remarkable article about Starbucks’ entry to India: http://wapo.st/zht8bA

When Indian fashion jewellery major “Bodylove” decided to open their first series of stores in the United States, we too wondered what they will offer to suite the taste of the Big Apple. And our survey and experts came up with this awesome list of suggestions:

• Cool n Funky: For the fashion conscious – Platinum eyebrow nails, with complimentary Ribbed Gold lip rings. Also available on special request – miscellaneous unprintable piercing jewellery.
• Underground: Targetting the rich liberated juvinile, real Gold plated guns with silver bullets
• For the Gamers: Gold plated football helmet with “This ain’t no soccer” embossed
• Dirty stuff: Various unprintable clothes with gold buckles and weapons dedicated to the Gods of the Blue
• Nirvana: Gold plated dispenser needles, with complimentary snuff spout
• Stake: This one’s a surprise entry – a model of a golden F-16 Hornet with 2  lines written below: “Duniya ka Theeka” written in Devnagiri script, and “We love America” in English
• And lastly for everyone: A celebration of pure racism – black and white … er… Gold and platinum striped special edition of the star spangled banner

Oh yes! We all knew great America is all about racism, guns, drugs, and paedophiles.

Blindness

Is it only the blind who know the agony of blindness? Not quite. The original blind does not care for the existence of light. Blindness to a blind is like flightlessness to whales. You miss flight only if you have known to fly, seen what it is.

Blindness is an extreme pain to one who has just lost his vision. However he too, eventually gets accustomed to the dark world. In a way, he learns to be blind. Some sell it to generate sympathy. Some are forced to blindness and used by others, sometimes themselves blind, for profiteering.

Certain faculties of the blind get unusually amplified. They may have feelings which cannot be felt by those with vision. They become extremely sensitive, reacting to events which never get affect one with vision. Good and bad are not exactly black and white; they are just names – extremely subjective in their meanings and values. Some words are common, but after all, the dark is a different world.

Blindness unites the blind. They feel for each other, discussing the pain which can be called as pain by just the blind, attributing all of it, and perhaps more, to those with vision. They are not bothered by the pains typical to people with vision, and just love it if vision is lost. The one with the light however feel for the blind, and toil for their welfare. In fact, in the long run, only those who see light may realize the agony of being blind; may really forgive the mistakes that blinds make so casually, habitually.