A Knight's Tale

We live in a very confusing world and an even more perplexing county. India for all its diversity and unity shall forever (or at least for the foreseeable future) be divided in a manner that even the masters of "Divide & Rule" the Britishers hadn't foreseen.

While attending college in Gujarat, I met a lot of people during my orientation and afterwards. Now, at a PG level, and that too in a fairly reputed institute, you would expect people to have a basic idea of their own country's geography. Alas! I was sadly mistaken.

As is the case when you are meeting a lot of new people for the first time, we usually enquire their names and where they are from among other things. The minute anyone, me included, named a place from the south, we were classified as Madrasis. I was, to say the least, pretty surprised and earnestly tried to clarify that I wasn't from Madras or Chennai or even the same state. As one friend told me then, everything south of the Vindhyas is South India. One big state, of which, Madras is the capital city. And all south Indians are Madrasis. I let it go thinking it was just a one off case, but a surprisingly large number of people in the North were of the same opinion. Some were actually thrown off balance when I told them South India had 4 separate states. Now I know where shows like "Paanchvi Paas" get their fodder from.

So, after many social interactions, at many cities, with many people, I was tired of being labelled Madrasi. I have nothing against the fine city, now known as Chennai, nor against being associated with it. I understand if a person from, oh, say Frankfurt, or Tokyo, or Helsinki does that. After all, for them it's like a landmark in the world map with which to associate you with. But in India, with fellow Indians, it's a different thing. You expect them to know a Bangalore or a Hyderabad or a Thiruvananthapuram. It's like Indians in England being called a Paki. Sure they are next to each other. They were once the same country even. But calling an Indian a Paki, will sure get you some interesting reactions of the violent side.

Now I believe that everybody at heart is a racist. Some know it, some don't, and the rest are in denial. Now racism by itself is not a bad thing. Just like politics is not a dirty word. We all have our prejudices and there is nothing anyone can do about it. It's just a fact of life and we have to deal with it. Take my case. I resented being called a Madrasi. Now while I have nothing against that fine city, I have more pride in being associated with Bangalore, for all its faults. Call it regional pride, call it geo-affiliation or whatever other fancy term you might think of, but at that moment I didn't like being associated with "Madras".

So I decided to go on the offensive, by giving them a taste of their own medicine. So when this pretty Punjabi girl and I were getting acquainted, she made the mistake of saying "Oh! Madrasi!" and I said "Yes and you"? So naturally she said Punjabi. To which I said, "Oh! Sardarni"? And then the fun started. She shook her head violently and started explaining the differences between Sardarjis and Punjabis. I patiently listened to her, and at the end of her explanation, say "Oh, you are Bihari then". Now she was really confused and I was beginning to enjoy this role reversal. She said "Punjab. Not Bihar." To which I cheekily said, "Yes yes, I know, Punjab. It's the North Western part of Bihar, your capital is Chandigarh and you are Sardar."

And from then on, there were just 2 states in India. Madras and Bihar.  Every person who called me a Madrasi was called a Bihari in return with the same earnestness. And they were all scratching their heads while the smarter ones who figured out what was happening, were laughing.

So for all future encounters with my northern brethren, every time I got called a Madrasi, there was a subtle re-arrangement of their hitherto familiar geography and they now belonged to the USB – United States of Bihar. And as an ambassador from Madras, I could claim Diplomatic Immunity and get away with impunity.

So here is a note from my end :

·         I have nothing against any state, north or south of the Vindhyas, or the people who inhabit them.

·         There are 4 states in the south of India.

·         Madras is not a shared capital among these states, unlike Chandigarh.

·         Madras, incidentally, is now called Chennai.

·         All South Indians do not talk and act like Mehmood in Padosan or Mithun in Agnipath, or was that Vijaypath?

·         And as a good friend Chuck puts it "A mallu accent is nothing but a Hyundai made in Kerala."

 
--
Cheers!
Arjun

There are some people who will feel happy to put me in cage and hang me over pacific ocean. I have ended some ‘relations’ I know it’s cruel , callous and insensitive in a way , but I need to end what’s not working out , atleast for me. I know I am being bad by cutting off from it . Makes me a not-so-nice guy .I think romantic love is an illusion created by exaggerated hormone play which serves the movie industry and misleads the impressionable youth .



All I can say is Amen, Brother :)

** Recently, as I was on my Retail Yatra as part of my curriculum at MICA, we visited the Hidesign facility in Pondicherry.

And as we were speaking to Mr.Kapoor, the CEO, who, while displaying all the leather accessories showed us some distinctly feminine looking handbag like accessories and told us, that they, were in fact for men.

Thus was born the idea for this entry.

Also having been around enough women/friends of the female variety/girl friends and having been put in this altogether very wierd situation, here comes forth some wisdom that I now offer to you, free.

“Handbags are for poofters and girls.”

~ Oscar Wilde on not being flamingly homosexual

“It's a man-purse!”

~ Your friend on why his girlfriend left him

“It's not a purse, it's European!”

~ Jerry Seinfeld on his purse

“It's a man-bag!”

~ Joey Tribbiani on Friends

You should know that men have to hold handbags sometimes. And it sucks, but it has to happen. And it has to happen because that's the way life is. And no one can help that, but you can learn to hold the handbag like a man. And then, the world will be like an oyster that is yours, but probably not exactly as enjoyable. Maybe a little more enjoyable, maybe a little less; I find it hard to give you a definitive answer. But take my advice, and know that even a world half as enjoyable as an oyster is more enjoyable than a world where everyone thinks you're a flaming homosexual because you can't hold a handbag like a man.

The Folded-Arms Technique

The folded-arms technique is cool, it's wicked, it's got all the right stuff. You could probably get away with holding a fricken pink speckled douche with this technique. That's how masculinisating it is. You wouldn't look queer at all, and that's probably the best way to look in these circumstances.

Simply stand with feet flat on the ground, shoulders pulled back, and arms folded, with the handbag tucked underneath your lean, muscular arms. Anyone who looks at you gets a cold, hard, masculine stare RIGHT IN THE BLOODY FACE, and they inevitably back down in feminine cowardice. Because you are the man, and even though you're holding your girlfriend's handbag, you are the man, and you will do whatever it takes to maintain your masculine manliness.

The Clenched-Fist Technique

This technique is for those people who aren't up for the proud display of masculinity mentioned above. I don't know who that would be. Probably an Englishman or something, but it's hard to say. In Australia as well as Scotland (where they hold handbags in their kilts), we have a proud tradition of not being poofs. The same can't be said for England, unfortunately.

Shuffling of feet and looking nervously at the ground are a must for this technique. Then you just hold the handbag in a clenched fist, and kind of stand until that sadistic bitch takes it off you. If you don't look like you're enjoying it, people might not think you're enjoying it, and they might not think you're a bloody ponce. But I guess that's debatable. Whatever the outcome, you just held a womans Handbag, and are now officially more gay then before.

The Throw-The-Bloody-Bag-At-Her-And-Tell-Her-To-Hold-The-Fricking-Thing-Herself Technique

Be careful of this one. It's dangerous. But worth a try.

The give it to someone else technique

just give it to someone else

The "I'm a thief" Technique

When someone asks you to hold a bag, grab it and run away. Purse thieves are famous for their ability to hold all sorts of bags without looking like sissies, a fact that you can benefit from until you get arrested.

The Put-it-three-feet-away-from-yourself and look-the-other-way technique

Another very good technique that is commonly used to decrease unwanted attention. Generally people will look at the bag but not at you, remember it is very important that the bag be atleast 3 feet away from yourself.

The"Hide-it-somewhere-safe" technique

Once the bag is in your hands, scan the premises for a good spot to hide the bag and move to another area where you can keep a close watch on it. This technique is flawless when executed properly.

The "One Hit Wonder" Technique

If you are asked to hold a bag, go through it and pull everything out of it for everyone to see. That person will never ask you to hold a bag again.

The "How-could-you-do-this-to-me" Technique

Drop the bag on the floor, walk out of the store, get in the car and drive home, and when she finally confronts you she'll be more pissed off about being stranded at the store, and then you can trump that by acting offended as all hell that she would have so little respect for you as a man and as much as accuse you of being gay by asking you to hold a woman's handbag, when you know damn well there's probably tampons inside it, and panty liners, and lip gloss, and other feminine crap infested with cooties, and because the male ego is so fragile she's more than likely to fall for it.

DOs and DON'Ts

Do’s

• Listen to bands like Dream Theater, Megadeth, Sepultura, or that kind of stuff. No metal heads are poofs, except possibly for screamo listeners.
• Stare people in the face when they are looking at you or the bag - MAKE THEM FEAR!
• The "Evil Eye" is also another way to intimidate passersby.
• Fart often and loudly. Nobody flatulent owns a handbag.
• Wear sunglasses, very dark ones.
• If you have a hood, wear it. It makes you look that much manlier
• Keep glancing at your watch. This will make people think you are waiting for someone. In this case, the bitch woman who owns the bag.
• Call a mate and speak very loudly about chicks, beer and hard rock/metal music.
• Be sure to scratch you hindquarters and/or shift your scrotum from time to time. Women rarely make these actions; partly because of a higher respect for public behaviour mandates, partly because they don't have scrotii.

Don'ts

• Smile
• Giggle
• Dance the Charleston
• Exercise
• Pick your nose
• Put the handbag on the floor. People won't see you as a flaming homo, but the handbag owner will probably kick you in the gonads.
• Hold it while enjoying lollies. Especially pink or purple spiral-pattern lollies.
• Brush any dirt off it - people will think it's yours.
• Hold it while singing Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, or other girly pop songs.
• Wear it on your shoulder.
• Gaze at it as if you like the damned thing.
• Look at its contents.
• Check your lipstick in the matching compact's mirror.
• Exclaim that anything is "cute!"
• Ask anyone if it makes you look fat.
• Run madly into an intersection, and throw your handbag straight up in the air because you think you're going to make it after all.

Do you need help with that, Mister?

In certain and extreme cases a preference might develop for a particular type of purse, handbag, clutch or micro bag. From "preference" to "fetish" however, is a very short and dangerous leap. This could present a problem to your masculinity. Spot this problem and nip it in the bud, immediately. If you find yourself insisting that your wife wear the black leather matte finished Coach saddle style bag with every outfit, including her beachwear, you need help.

Take the bag to your local pub (or bar), stand in the centre of the establishment and announce that the patrons are a bunch of Nancy Boys in need of a good thrashing and you are just the man who can do it. Their immediate reaction will force you to drop the bag in order to defend yourself from a good beating. Before you know it your new found mates will be beating you senseless and bloody. When the room goes dark, you will be on the road to recovery. After the drubbing is finished, and your fetish cured, offer to buy every chap a pint and begin to bond again with manly men as God intended.

However, if you succeed in not only surviving the ordeal, but also in defeating your opponents, you do not need to be cured as you have succeeded in holding the bag like a man. Buy a round for good measure.

Conclusion

The path to holding a handbag like a man is long and winding, like this conclusion. Many may be tempted to give up, and continue to hold a handbag like they are girly-girls. But, the end result is worth it. Those who hold their handbags like men will stride on to wars, and get the women. Do you want the women? Yes? Then practice hard and train fiercely, because in the end, all the hardships and trials you face on the way to holding your handbag like a man will be worth it.

Pillow fighting

Pillow fighting is the deplorable act of two or more pillows attacking each other in an often violent fashion. These acts can range in intensity from minor bar fights to full scale turf wars, and are heavily frowned upon by the world community as a whole.

For many, the realization that pillows — often depicted as soft, cuddly, and even submissive to the human head — have such violent tendencies can shatter their entire world perspective. If one cannot trust his own pillow, who can one trust?

History

Most experts agree: Pillow fighting has been around since the dawn of pillows, or at least the early morning. Though artworks since the dawn of civilization hint of pillow fights, no one can pin down the exact moment altercations have begun.

"Brawling with each other seems to be built into the genetic code of these pillows," says scientist Harvey Von Braun, "Using goose feather dating, we can pinpoint a mutation in the genetics of the Downus genus of pillows all the way back to the very first human civilizations."

The human element, as always, has only increased tension. Instead of allowing their negative energy to healthily flow out by beating the stuffing out of their brothers, they have instead been domesticated. Yet few people are aware of the boiling rage hidden just beneath the cover they lay their heads on every night.

Why they fight

It is not fully known to us humans why our pillow brethren partake in such violent activities with members of their own species. However, many theories are circulating as to why they do, most profoundly one which relates to a human flaw as well: ethnocentrism.

How these pillows view themselves to be greater than different pillows is unknown, though further corollaries have been produced. Qualities and characteristics such as color, variations in covers, manufacturers, and feather type have been hypothesized as possible "races" or "ethnicities" by today's leading pillologists.

Still, this theory has yet to become fully accepted by scientists. Most biologists agree that genetics is entirely to blame for the violent outbursts.

"Everything is controlled by genetics," explains one biologist. "The sort of tea you like in the morning, that's genetics. If you're a criminal, it's not your fault, it's just genetics. In fact, we've recently uncovered a gene that determines the precise brand of toothpaste you are most likely to buy in your later years."

When asked what progress has been made in the biological causes of pillow fighting, the biologist responded that biology has more pressing matters and cannot be bothered with such trivial items as pillows. He was reportedly caught in the crossfire of a serious pillow fight mere weeks later over who got the top bunk.

Notable pillow fights

The Serengeti

The earliest pillow fight in recent history was between an ostrich feather throw and a cotton-stuffed black velvet bed pillow. The fight took place in 1845 in the Serengeti, supposedly after the British man who owned the black velvet pillow allowed it roam around a while. This was a very foolish move, as time has proved over and over that any pillow with the will to fight and the freedom to roam unchecked will go searching for trouble.

Unbeknownst to the escaping pillow or the Brit, a tribe of Zulus had surrounded the camp. The chieftain saw the escaping pillow and inspiration struck him. He loosed the tribe's personal pillow after the black velvet one. The black velvet pillow was looming threateningly over an anthill when it spied the ostrich feather throw. It immediately lunged at the Zulu pillow, but the throw dodged. The ostrich-feather throw struck with a spear and gutted the hapless black velvet pillow, emerging victorious.

The chieftain, having seen the battle, took it for a good omen and opened an attack on the whites. They killed everyone in the camp, and the tribe lived in peace until the Brits returned, this time with guns.

Tasselsippi Burning

In December 1957, a pillow fight that would give solid evidence for the Modern Pillocentrism Theory took place. This date was when Strings 'n' Things opened a new throw-pillow factory on top of Polonium Hills Cemetery, a now defunct Native American burial ground and toxic waste dump, next to a slow community of comforters. The very next month, January 1958, the first recorded pillow murder was, well, recorded. The discovery of an unidentified paisley cotton-stuffed throw pillow led to the arrest of cotton-stuffed Michael Drigg for murder in the first degree. According to the police, it wasn't just some hit-and-run, but a full frontal pillow fight.

"There are obvious signs of a pillow fight. A line of guts went on for almost a whole block," said detective Forrest Driver, "there were buttons and string and even cotton splayed all across the sidewalk, like a gruesome tapestry. It was very uncomfortable."

Up until this point, there were no historical signs of cotton-on-cotton warfare, but revolutionary scientist Hawthorn Stratsborough proposed the idea that there was more to pillow fighting than just stuffing. The killer Michael Drigg admitted the fact that his community wasn't accustomed to the presence of "those damn tasslers" so he and a few of his friends beat the throw pillow to death. A whole new field of research was opened, and a whole field of social interaction between pillows was closed.

"We can't trust these pillows to live near each other knowing they're just going to fight. Needless to say, this was the case of the century. Nothing of this much importance has ever gone down in history before," continued Forrest Driver. The interviewer, tiring rapidly of Driver's attempts at humour, promptly beat him to a bloody pulp.

Pro-Pillow Fighting

Some humans, known as Feather Flyers, have taken pro-pillow fighting stances. They are heavily ridiculed and chastised for doing so, some going so far to say that they have sold their souls to Satan himself. Satan, however, during an interview, claimed that he is not even in support of pillow fighting.

Feather Flyers range from seedy pillow harvesters who sell them for sport or feather harvesting, managers of underground pillow fighting rings and cash fights, down to simple fight sympathizers or aiders.

Pillboxes

Feather Flyers and belligerent pillows have been collaborating with each other in underground Pillow Fighting clubs, also known as pillboxes for the last few years. In these clubs, small stakes pillow fights have been held and organized by humans and pillows alike, and on some occasions pillboxes were used as facilities for planning larger scale fights or protests.

"These pillows honestly believe that they have a right to harm each other," says Nobel Peace Prize winner and polka-dotted pleather pillow Paul Pussitio, "It just makes me want to push my feathers out of all my little holes at once."

Paul wrote a bestselling novel based on his first-hand experiences going undercover in pillboxes, and can provide the most accurate testimony on the situation:

Civil rights movement

In order to keep pillows of different ethnicities apart following the Tasselsippi affair, a controversial set of "Linen Crow" laws were put into effect by human governments across the globe. Almost immediately, pillows still in touch with their id began speaking out in protest. Upon realizing they could not hold up protest signs or form a proper crowd without being trod upon, the pillows' civil rights movement experienced a minor setback.

The council of protest leaders considered using unorthodox tactics, such as hiring mercenaries of the knitting and sewing profession to make battle-ready Frankensteins. This idea was quickly shot down when the council didn't agree upon whether it should be in the style of Mary Shelley's book or the movie. After the ensuing pillow fight, a new council had been chosen to discover new methods of protests, only to have the same process of "debate into fight" occur every time. In fact, the 22nd council of '98 lasted only 4 minutes after drunk and bitter Wally Huffaguss got especially angry over Vinny Toussant's unkempt looks and piano key tie.

Reaction

Steps have been taken in order to stop pillow fighting all around the globe. People have acted in a variety of ways, such as advocating sterner feather regulations, or more radical ideas such as trying to get pillow factories shut down. The owners of Bed Bath and Beyond have been shocked at the latter proposition, and have been up at arms to date.

"'Bath and Beyond' simply just doesn't have the same ring to it," says manager Washington Irving, "so what if a few nasty pillows are stirring up problems, the majority of them are still good, aren't they? I assure you, we only manufacture and distribute pillows of the highest moral quality."

Nevertheless, pillow fighting remains a highly controversial topic. Several pillow-burning demonstrations have already been organized, yet as was soon discovered, this turns the pillows into angry fireballs, unleashing massive amounts of destruction. It looks as if pillow fighting is stubbornly staying put, its arms folded and lower lip protruding, whether the population likes it or not.

Notes

1. It is speculated that the advanced Mayan civilization collapsed in the year of 879 AD in part to a colossal battle between two of their mega-pillows, Xyquathalus and Quezilo; a similar event was believed to have happened in Babylonia. Since then, people had stopped making 150 foot tall pillows made entirely of stone and iron for use in public sleeperies (the practice of sleeperies died out not too soon after).
2. Also known by his notoriously appropriate nickname The Polka-Dotted Pleather Pussy.
3. The prior contained a conscious and intellectual freak of nature capable of questioning the morality of its own existence. The latter, similarly, starred Boris Karloff.

Volcanoes are large bulges in the earth's crust where the very ground itself opens in a melodramatic burst of annoying lava and ash. In other words, they are like mountains, but scientists like to talk about them. This is because the volcanoes are annoying little attention whores.

Although most people try to simply ignore them, their frequent eruptions make this very difficult. As they spew forth their fiery magma, they claim it is a "cry for attention." In actuality, some volcanoes really do just want to be loved. Most, however, are only following an annoying trend laid down by their forefathers, the mighty attention-whoring volcanoes of old.

Formation

Volcanoes are often formed where two plates of crust decide that they don't love each other anymore, and move apart. They can also be formed when the two plates get into a fight, and charge at each other with blind ferocity, often as quickly as two inches-per-year. If the new bulge of ground that they form is unstable, perhaps due to low self-esteem or bad grades in school, it can erupt its vast reservoir of emotions, or "magma." When this happens, a volcano has formed. Some will continue to erupt sporadically for the duration of their lifetimes. Others, meanwhile, will simply wonder what the hell they were thinking and move on.

Sometimes, when several volcanoes are formed in an area, they will get together and form a band, or "chain" of volcanoes. A prime example of this is the Hawaiian Island chain. At first, they felt they needed each other's support. Now, they feel like they need the entire world's. To remedy this, they erupt often, and each year thousands of annoyed tourists flock to the islands to tell them off.

History

Throughout history, volcanoes have erupted, and pissed off those that did not expect it. When Mt Vesuvius erupted over Pompeii in AD 79, numerous Roman officials attempted to crucify the mountain. When unsuccessful, they instead had a local town crier climb it and give it a "stern talking to." This town crier, as well as several officials who escorted him up the mountain, were soon engulfed by flames as it erupted again.

Much more recently in 1980, Mount St. Helens, of WA, USA erupted in a fiery cloud of ash and toxic gas. Its excuse? Nobody had climbed it in a few days, and it got lonely. 57 people died in this eruption. According to the governor of WA, the state will soon embark on a large project to have the volcano "decommissioned." They will use a complex psychoanalysis program to assess the psychological reasons for the mountain's unhappiness, and will attempt to solve the problem with words. Although the project will cost large sums of money, the governor feels that action must be taken, even if it is an inanimate object.

Dormancy and Violence

Although most volcanoes are content to merely whittle away their incredibly long lives whoring peoples' attention spans, some will eventually become "tired of being sad all the time". These volcanoes are usually so tired that they become dormant, and are content to simply "move on", and go the rest of their life without a single outburst.

In other instances, however, the volcanoes are unable to cease whining. They allow inner pressure to blast off large chunks of their sides, just so they can get a little magma to escape. Most volcanoes claim that "the pain on the outside is nothing compared to the pain on the inside" but this is generally accepted as crap. It gets to the point where the mountains have a physical addiction to erupting, and actually continue to do so until they either run out of magma or blow themselves into oblivion.

What YOU can do to help

“The Iyer you go, the softer you fall”

~ Oscar Wilde on Iyers

“I...? errrrr...!!!”

~ An Iyer on Iyers

Iyers are a community of confused people who are blatantly unaware of their roots. Headquartered in Tamil Nadu, India, but with points of origin ranging from Bomb-bay to Bangalore to Calcutta, Iyers are found all over the world, infiltrating all types of organizations and nations. So confused are they that some NGOs offered to invent a language called Esperanto especially for them.

Origin of Iyers

Indian tradition narrates a remarkable story for the origin of Iyers. Ages ago, in the Vedic period, in North India, there lived two siblings Vindhya and Agastya. Vindhya, ever since childhood, wanted to grow tall in order to be a great Vedic Basketball player. She heavily relied on a diet of Vedic Complan to match her desires. Her little brother Agastya grew envious of her and depressed with his own height. He devised a brilliant plan. Agastya approached Vindhya and told her that he is going on a commercial trip to South India and hence requested her not to take Vedic Complan till he returns, as otherwise he would be unable to identify her when he comes back. Vindhya, being pea-brained, accepted his request and thus the shrewd Agastya went to South India and never returned. Thus poor Vindhya stopped growing and remained the same height ever since. In South India, Agastya established his family and thus the first Iyers were born.

Iyers trace their ancestry to eight "different" Maharishis, thus classifying each family of the rishi as a gotra. The eight rishis include Agastya, Gautama, Vishwamitra,Bharadvaja, Jamadagni, Vasishta, Kashyapa and Atri. However, one other rishi named Koundinya started a conspiracy theory stating that all these eight rishis were one and the same person, affected by schizophrenia. If the above claim is true, that would be the worst case of schizophrenia in the entire history of India.

Rituals and Ceremonies

Iyers practise a ceremony called Upanayana, which is primarily used to confuse the initiate before being accepted into the Iyer community. In this ceremony, the youngster is required to wear a sacred thread on his body, after which he is known as "twice born". The same ritual can be repeated again, this time by tying the thread on his right hand to become "thrice born" and so on. One Mr.Mani Iyer from Palakkad is reputed to hold the Guinness World Record for the Most Number of Births by wearing the sacred thread on 37 parts of his body !! How many times were the ancient Egyptians born then??

Iyers primarily use the thread to scratch their backs (mudhugu sorinjifying). Other uses are using the thread as a "cloth support" to ensure that t-shirts do not come in the way when sitting on the potty. This is a delicate procedure, and is one of the first things that newly born iyers learn. A vague few hold onto the thread and utter gibberish for an hour or so a day.. scary shit.

Dietary Habits

Iyers have a mad frigging obsession for Thayir Sadam (aka Curd Rice aka Yogurt mixed with rice boiled the previous night). Although the men of the newer generation have adopted this slick (and most times slimy) dish as a hang-over repellant, an Iyer meal typically ends with this delicacy. One can find million other stuff to eat in an Iyer's home:- Sundal (pulses cooked in a style which is never the same the second time around; Known for its anti-acidic capabilities,which is the driving bases of the Indian Gas Factory), Sambhar* Sadam (Hot sambhar mixed with cold rice or vice versa), Paruppu (Dal mixed with lot of turmeric powder), eggplant Gotsu (Inexplicable delicacy(!)), Ghee (Although not accepted as a dish in vedic scriptures, consumption of ghee by a brahmin is more than the world average consumption of marijuana), Beetle-leaf and Nuts (Nectar of which is the Ambrosia of Brahmins; Not to be mistaken with cows chewing on grass) and million other uppers, downers, screamers, laughers and knock-your-socks-off, stuff.

    DangerMouse, for those of you who DON'T know, is a cartoon superhero created in England By Cosgrove/Hall Productions Limited. The DangerMouse episodes we have all come to know and love first aired in 1981. Since then it has built an audience over 6 Million strong! For 2 years, beginning in June of 1984, he started entertaining millions more in the US on the Nickelodeon channel in the afternoons...where almost overnight he shot into their highest ratings.

    In England, 3 videos were created and began selling strongly with the 3rd shooting instantly into the #3 slot on release. There were also over 200 different items of DM merchandise available in England, from books to mugs to soap- and even Wellington boots! It is also rumored that a video game came out titled "DangerMouse In Double Trouble"

    The Series has been sold in over 31 countries and 7 seasons have been screened in England. However, to the best of my knowledge, only 5 tapes and one DVD set have ever been released in the U.S.

    DangerMouse is a wacky and hilarious adventure featuring a white secret agent mouse and his trusty bumbling sidekick hampster assistant- Penfold. Penfold is lovingly daft and usually needs to be saved from one situation or another, and is the greatest straight man...err... hampster ever known. Together, they are given assignments by Colonel K., their commander/walrus. The orders consisted of doing battle to save the world from: monsters, master thieves, and crazed fiends of all types. The most prolific being their arch nemesis, a meglomanic frog, named Baron Silas Greenback and his henchman crow, Stiletto.

    The television screen blares- and DM knows that it will be Colonel K. wanting them to save the world again. " ZZZZZ... That will be Colonel K. with some mind boggling mystery to solve"DM is always saving the world - Although, as he likes to point out in a humble British style, "it's just a job really." DM always manages to save the day, earning himself the adoration of millions who tend to reward him with many unique gifts. He receives a camel (given to him by Eskimos), a three toed sloth, a panda bear named Fred Fred, a tiger, a even a Mongolian wild mule.

    There are rarely any humans to be seen apart from the Minister of Inkblots and Inertia, a cleaning man, and an overseas reporter interviewing elephants. All of the other characters are humanized animals.

    DangerMouse, and his trusty sidekick Penfold, spend most of their time protecting the world from their arch enemy- the evil Baron Silas Greenback and his henchmen. It is clearly a spoof of the many James Bond episodes. In fact, DangerMouse is heavily layered with arty, witty spoofs of all types... ranking the program up there with "Monty Python" and "Airplane" movies.

    In an episode titled "Custard" they travel to an alien planet where Penfold accidently awakens a cartoon version of "Alien", which breaks out of its egg to plant a big wet, sucky kiss on Penfold. They then wind up crashing into the moon and getting to earth via a "time travelers potting shed". This is poking fun at Dr Who's 'Tardis'!
For "Raiders of the Lost Ark" fans, there was an episode titled "The Long Lost Crown Affair" where the episode opens within a temple hidden in the South American jungle. DM and Penfold are chased by a huge ball that turns out to be part of a huge game of snooker..... and they get holed!

    It should also be noted that DangerMouse lives in a trusty red pillar box just outside of the Baker Street home of Sherlock Holmes famous residence! Just like James Bond, with his love of cars and gadgets, DM drives the greatest car ever given to any secret agent as well as enjoying the use of numerous other "Q"-like aids. He also enjoys what Bond might envy- his very own nimble "Space Hopper".

Without a doubt, DangerMouse is one of the funniest, zaniest, most imaginative cartoons... well...rather... SHOWS, ever created!

Cooor Chief! - Let's See Some Of The Characters in Detail!

Grass-o-Phobia: n, Fear of grass

A child teaches us a lesson in overcoming fear

Each day Little Lady, pushing one year old now, amazes me with the self-actualization lessons she teaches me. Yes, here I go again learning lessons from someone too young to speak. (Hmm ... maybe that's a lesson, too.)

In my corner of Star ship Earth, winter rolled in a wee bit late this year. The thermometer went easy on us all winter, leaving our sidewalks clear and our faces just a touch happier. So I suppose it was cosmic justice that just when we wanted to enjoy spring, Old Man Winter struck us from behind. Which explains why we had to wait until May to introduce Little Lady to the sea of grass surrounding her home .

Little Lady Gets excited about everything (another lesson from speech-free youth). Just bringing her into the fresh air gets her excited enough to pop her buttons. As her "sponge lawn" finally seemed to dry, we decided to introduce her to the green stuff. I placed her gently down on her stomach so she could crawl.

Crawl!? You want me to crawl!? She may not speak English yet, but she sure can speak body language. No way would she let her hands or feet or face near those menacing blades of grass, which by this time had reached a good four or five inches in height.

However, her gestures of fear were set against squeals of delight.

Next we sat Little Lady up on the grass, and the squeals grew louder. As the smiles grew wider, the hands approached the lawn. She pulled them back. Reached down. Pulled back. Reached down. Pulled back. Turned her head to smile and squeal at us. Back to reaching down and pulling back. Again. Once more. Hey, this is scary stuff.

Fear and joy -- a peculiar mix

How many things would make us squeal with delight? OK, not literally, but think of things you would like to do. Things that would be exciting. Things that would bring meaning to your life. Are you also thrilled with the possibilities ... but maybe just a little apprehensive about making the big leap? Many people are.

Sometimes fear holds us back from our dreams and from our happiness. We want to try something new, but we retreat back into our own comfort zone. I've watched one person after the other join Toastmasters (against their better judgment) over the past six years. Each one was terrified to speak in public. But they jumped off the proverbial cliff, brave souls every one of them. And every one of them is braver now than they were when they joined. Everyone is more skilled than when they joined. And everyone feels less trapped by their personal comfort zone than they were when they joined. Every one lays claim to just a little more happiness now.

Research shows that people regret more their inactions than their actions. In the long run, we tend to regret more what we didn't do (Why didn't I at least give it a try?). Do you want to improve your skills? Discover God? Travel around the world? Make a difference on our little Star ship Earth? Tell somebody how much you care? Whatever it is you would most want to do, make the commitment right now to do it. Otherwise, the research says you will regret it later.

Many people strike out into business for themselves. Some succeed. Many fail. None regret. We may fear failure, but it is not trying that we regret.

As for Little Lady, she will overcome her fear of grass. Unfortunately, she may also overcome her squeals of delight. Aaaahh. The pure joy of childhood. Hey, there's another valuable life lesson we adults can learn from children!

Instant gratification is not the recipe for happiness

I'm searching for modern happiness. The old-fashioned kind takes just too long. That happiness requires patience and I don't want to wait. I want upgraded happiness. I want release 4.02, the "new and improved" version.

This is the 21st century and I demand instant gratification.

Once upon a time, you had to wait to eat your meal. Even when the Mammoth Burger walk-through was open, they offered only self-kill meals. And when you brought them home, you still had to get the fire started.

"What? Mammoth burger again? How you cook?"

"Ugh. Start fire for cave lady."

"Hah. You probably burn cave down."

"Hah you. No can burn cave down. Buy insurance policy."

"How you start fire?"

"Rub two fingers together. Make big flame. Cook mammoth burger."

"Last time you burn fingers."

"Yummy."

Nobody lights a fire these days. People don't even light ovens anymore. It takes just too long to heat up a meal. It takes just too much patience. I'm hungry now, not 40 minutes from now. That's why God gave us microwave ovens. Just pop the food in and whrrr –BEEP- out it comes, nicely warmed for immediate consumption. That's how I want my happiness – toasty warm and right now!

"Ooh. No more burn fingers."

No patience for Google

Consider the Internet. You type "electric toothpicks". You hit "enter". Google responds: "Search took 1.02 seconds."

"Seems kinda slow," you think. "Google is ready for the geriatric ward." You click on the first result – something about an electric eel eating a balanced breakfast – and a blank screen appears. You wait.

TRIVIA QUESTION: Did you know that Shakespeare once waited almost twenty seconds for a web site to appear, so he could find a word that rhymed with cardiologist? The web site finally appeared in 1997, but he had given up waiting by then.

Five seconds pass. Time's up and still not site. Your instant gratification cells have been offended. You surf to another site.

"Ugh. No get Mammoth Burger web site. This thing no work."

"That thing rock."

"Rock broken. Go to mammoth burger walk-through"

I don't want to walk to get happiness. I want it delivered now. Not twenty seconds later, even if it does rhyme with cardiologist. Not 1.02 seconds later. I want happiness now.

Remote control happiness

Remember the olden days when you had to extract your posterior from the couch to change channels? That took such a monumental effort that most people sat through whole television shows without changing channels. Of course, that might have been because the other channel was playing Lawrence Welk.

Back in the two-channel universe there was always something on. Now we flip through 472 channels, which keeps us busy while wishing for something worth watching.

Thanks to the remote control, affectionately known by its technical term – the doodadder – we can flip channels at a relaxed pace of 15 to 20 per minute without even breaking into a sweat. Imagine our body odor if we had to extract our posteriors from the couch each time we change channels!

"Ugh. No like show. Change channels."

"That thing rock."

"Rock need more channels. This play only test pattern."

Happiness should be like television. If I don't get instant gratification, I should be able to change channels with a zap.

The checkout clerk who doesn't care...ZAP!

The driver kissing my rear bumper...ZAP!

The loudmouth yakking in the cinema...ZAP!

The telemarketer who calls during dinner...ZAP!

Come to think of it, all those annoying people in my way at the grocery store, at the ticket booth, in the parking lot, in the waiting room...ZAP! ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!

"Miss Wooly no give me mammoth burger."

"What you do?"

"I zap her with club. Take mammoth burger."

"Ugh. You invent self-serve."

Sigh. Happiness is not like a microwave oven. Nor like the Internet. Not even like a doodadder. Happiness does not run on the instant gratification system. Happiness takes patience. Lord, please grant me the patience I lack...and I want it now!

(that only a fool would try!)

Ever notice how customer service varies from store to store? You walk into some stores, and before you can say "Buzz off!" a salesperson asks "May I help you?"

"No thanks."

"May I help you?" asks another.

"No thanks."

"May I help you?" asks a third.

When the store runs out of salespeople, you get to see the merchandise. This is called "in your face customer service".

Other stores take the opposite approach. When you can't find the right size adapter for your new portable electronic zapper gizmo thingy, you look for help in aisle three. Nobody there. Aisle four? Still nobody. Aisle five? Nope. Aisle six? Seven? Fifty-six?

This is called "run for cover customer service".

Then there is the equipment shop that welcomes you with open arms when your vehicle engine starts sounding like dentures in a blender.

"It just needs a routine cleaning. We charge Rs.1500 for that," the friendly salesman says. Then he lowers his voice. "But you could probably do it yourself."

You commend him on his helpfulness. He beams with pride. "Yup. I thought it up by myself. Whenever a customer tries to fix something at home, we make a whole lot more money the next day. Think my boss will give me a raise for this?"

I call this "do-it-yourself-extortion".

And what about the three companies that came to quote on some renovation? Each looks around, takes some notes and promises to get back to me with a quote.

I wait. And wait. And wait.

I call back the first company, which promises to get back to me with its quote. It makes the same promise consistently each time I call. I just love a reliable company.

This is called "consistent filibuster customer service".

I call the second company. I call them in the day. I call them in the night. I call them in the dark. I call them in the light. I call them in the morn. I call them at high noon. I call them at dinner, and by the light of the moon.

Even bad poetry doesn't help. I just love a company that doesn't pester me by answering the phone.

I call this "Invisible Man customer service".

In the end, I choose a third company. To what does it owe the winning bid? Excellent quality? No. Great price? No. Strong guarantee? No? Answering their phone? Yes.

I hire the best paperwork fillers to renovate – and I cross my fingers that I never have to choose a heart surgeon that way.

I call this "present-at-attendance customer service".

The pest control company showed me a different approach.

"The termites are getting in the house. Time to call Pest Control Guy."

"OK, I'll do it right after I answer the phone. Hello?

"Hello, this is Pest Control Guy. When would you like your annual pest controlling?"

"How did you know? Well, as soon as possible. Hold on, that's the door bell."

"Hello, this is Pest Control Guy."

"But, you were just on the phone."

"You said ASAP, so here I am."

I call this "customer service on steroids".

If you own a business, run a family or do anything that brings you into contact with other human beings, please take note. One of these customer service styles is actually good.

"Hello, this is Pest Control Guy."

OK, that's enough. I don't have pests in this column.

"Hello, this is Pest Control Guy."

By the way, if you want to provide feedback to this column, I'll be holding my hands over my ears and singing the Klingon national anthem. I call that "satirical customer service".

"Hello, this is..." SWAT!

This is the age of the entrepreneur. Scholarship and erudition have taken a back seat and initiative and enterprise have surged ahead. Tales of individuals journeying from rags to riches, on the strength of their business acumen, are dime a dozen. You must have heard the names of Dhirubhai ‘Reliance’ Ambani and Karsanbhai ‘Nirma’ Patel. But I’m sure the name of Roshan Lal is unfamiliar to you.

To enlighten you, let me then, sketch the ‘Portrait of an Entrepreneur as a Young Man’! (With apologies to James Joyce).

Roshan Lal is an acquaintance of mine. He has only one ambition in life-‘to make it big, real quick’. He wants to compensate the disadvantage of being born with a wooden spoon in his mouth, by cashing in on his ideas. Entrepreneurial initiative is his substitute for the silver spoon.

One evening, as I was sitting at home brooding on the infinite (my favorite avocation), in strode Roshan Lal. His face was aglow and seeing him, I could imagine what Archimedes must have looked like during his Eureka phase.

“Arjun, I’ve got the most awesome idea imaginable. It’s a real winner. I’m going to start a reusable toothpick industry,” he said, and paused for effect. Addressing my raised eyebrows, he continued, “I know you are surprised, but just for a moment reflect. There are about hundred top restaurants in this city. At a hundred customers a day and one toothpick a piece, the number of toothpicks consumed comes to thirty six lakhs, fifity thousand a year.

At a modest ten paisa a toothpick, it means a cool Rs. 3.65 lakhs.

‘But…..I interjected.

“There is no room for buts in my life, Arjun. ‘Nothing in the world’, wrote the great poet Ovid, ‘is as powerful as an idea whose time has come. And Arjun, this idea of mine is timely and hence powerful. To translate this idea into action, I have done a lot of ground work. I’ve even thought of a marketing strategy to launch the product. The brand name will be ‘Titan’.”

“That sure sounds impressive,” I mumbled, hoping he would leave my space ASAP.

He took a bow and continued, “The launch will be accompanied by an advertising blitz. Even the subtle nuances of the advertising strategy have not escaped my mind. I firmly believe in the power of celebrity endorsements. I’ll get Sachin Tendulkar to model for my product. The visual will depict Sachin facing a doosra and cleaning his teeth with Titan. The voice over will declare – ‘clash of the Titans.’

“Fantastic idea, isn’t it” he asked. And without waiting for my reply, (as was his habit), he continued. “Another ad will have a macho man with a couple of attractive females, in various stages of undress, clinging to him.

The caption - “Titan Toothpick …the mark of a Man” will flash on the TV screen.

“I’ve also thought of an ad, especially targeted at the female segment of the market, which will create the ambience of a candle-lit dinner. The visual will show a man presenting a gift-wrapped set of Titan toothpick to the woman sitting opposite him.

The voice over will proclaim… “Titan Toothpick…A gift for someone you love.”

“What about the moolah”?

I managed to ask.

“Yes, I‘ve thought about that too. I’ve made a project report and right now I’m going to various financial institutions to invite them to participate in my venture. I’m going to make them an offer they just can’t refuse,” said Roshan Lal, doing a Marlon Brando.

“And Arjun, this is just the beginning,” he continued, “once I capture the indigenous market I’ll be spreading my tentacles overseas. You have heard of textile tycoons. In the near future you’ll be hearing about the Toothpick Titan….Roshan Lal”

And on this profound note he strode off to capture the market.

I saw him a month later. He looked dejected.

“What happened?” I asked.

“This world is full of myopic morons,” he muttered.

“Nobody was even willing to give my gilt-edged scheme a thought. One joker had the impudence to call it hare-brained. He suggested that I burn the project report and go to a shrink to have my head examined.”

I murmured my sympathies.

“Never mind. I’m down but not out. Already another scheme is taking shape inside my head. This project is about shoe-laces…….,” he began.

I muttered an excuse and beat a hasty retreat. I knew what was coming next. Out of the ashes of the 'Toothpick Titan' was rising, phoenix like, the 'Shoe-lace Sultan'.  

I can’t start t this article before I pay tributes to the person who inspired this thought in the first place. Its none other than Scott Adams of Dilbert, the designer of “The Ultimate Cubicle” (believe me it exists). I had read one of his comic strips once, which showed Dilbert saying

“I am the king of this cubicle
and these are my subjects
– the mouse, the monitor, the keyboards and the box”

Let’s face it –Cubicles rule our life. Now we are not privileged as Americans to have our companies tailor our cubicles, but we are unfortunate to have them. I am going to focus more on IT offices because well that is what plagues me. No matter how hard the students of the best college of architecture try, nothing can make the insides of an IT office exciting. Ever noticed that bigger the office the more flashy its interiors are and if you are in a maintenance project, the bigger your cubicle is. When you pass one of those rooms with the nameplate on it and see the person inside, you are not envious of his position but are envious of his “master cubicle”. I have worked in four offices and have experienced different cubicles. This article will not only warn every aspiring software engineer (oh! I know there are many) of the dangers of a bad cubicle but also give some tips and tricks to select the right one and spice up the place you live in – your cubicle. Hence the title Cubicle Vastu shastra

PS – Don’t use this article to start a chain of mails of things to do in office when you are getting bored.

Pick the one which is at the corner

If you don’t get one fight for it. In the matters of love, life, money and cubicle everything is justified. After having a heavy meal at the decorated canteen of ‘rice’ and ‘dal’ all you can think is how to catch a quick wink without anyone noticing. At this time you are going to bless my soul for suggesting this idea to you. Most of the offices think that by keeping team members together is conducive to the health of the project. Their view point is right till the time they think that the boss is not a part of the team .So if you are about to catch up with your afternoon siesta you wouldn’t want to let your Project manager see you. Chances are that he would be doing the same in his big cubicle, but it is always better to play safe. Corner cubicle would ensure a peaceful nap and then you can also do things like pick your nose, watch porn (though it offices have firewalls nowadays unless your friend is a security administrator)

Try to get one near the coffee machine

It is hard to stay awake in the office isn’t it? Especially after the wild party you had last night. Hence the new culture in every office is to have a coffee vending machine. Some employees even make it a criterion for joining. When you are trying to stay awake your savior blabbering friend arrives and suggests you to grab a cup of caffeine -Oh sorry I meant coffee. . If I may say coffee it’s like a dope for people in the IT office. One of the most common addictions for people in any IT office is addiction of coffee. Wonder if there are rehabilitation centers for coffee. Just heard on the morning radio that Eminem is on a rehab for sleeping pills. Anyway, that’s diverging from the topic. If you stay close to the vending machine chances are that you will get addicted and can sue the company and also you can have regular chitchat with all the people who come there and believe me there is a regular inflow of people. This also ensures your heightened popularity. So if the office ever has an election, you know who will win

Your neighbor has to be beautiful and should smell good

Now this applies to girl as well as a guy. Nothing wrong in peeking over to the other person cubicle and having quick talk or some companies’ call it shorts talks. Or small talk. Get him/her some gifts sometime and pretend to share some of the things like a showpiece kept at the barricade of your cubicles. Share coffee and foodstuff. As you give so shall you get. There is nothing worse than getting stuck in a cubicle next to the smelly aroma of your neighbor and if your neighbor is loud chances are that you will have to have one Anacin everyday to keep the doctor away. Another candidate for a neighbor is someone who gossips a lot on the phone. You will hear one of the best stories of your office and will always be updated without getting spammed with advertisement.

From where you can see the horizon

The bad part about American offices is that the cubicles are too high –representative of the closed nature of the people here. But in most Indian offices if you stand you can see what every person is doing in their cubicle . Get a cubicle like that. When you get really bored just stand and you can see what your friend is doing and can wave to him . Also you can see if your boss is approaching with some new work so that you can sneak into the toilet and basically avoid listening to him brag about himself

Spice up your cubicle

Some of the ways you can accessorize your cubicle are:

1. Stuff toys if you are a guy – Every pretty girl in the office will flock to your cubicle.

2. Cars posters – I have seen it in all the guys cubicle wonder why the girls don’t put it up. Put it up if you are a girl, the guys would get interested.

3. Post-it notes – I have seen cubicles with post-its on all the three walls. If that is the amount of work the person has I don’t think he can finish it before retirement. Don’t overuse them but they can become a good decorative tool

4. A pet- you can sometimes get a toad from the nearby drainage and leave it near your desk. After some time it will stroll around the office making someone write all in a days work

5. Weird showpiece – Keep something everyone will ask about and maybe showcase it with some lights . I once saw a cubicle with a big rear view mirror kept. Wonder what that was for even today. I keep a hand cream and believe me it is the star attraction

6. Dustbin – You have to have it !

7. Documents – To show that you are working pin up some documents.

8. Office paraphernalia’s- Most office’s have a limited supply of paraphernalia’s and if you have them everyone will ask you.

9. Keep home made Food – You know it’s a people magnet

Stay away from the printer

I once knew a guy who had the misfortune of having to share his cubicle with the printer . No the printer is a loud piece of furniture. After some time one could see the occupational hazards. He was always plagued with questions like –

Is it not working?
Is it out of paper?
Where can I get more paper?
Is the ink low?
How do I change to Tray 2 ?
What is plain letter?

Brazil won the match and their Football organization replied to the ad.

Need I say more???