Quid Pro Quo With The Gods

On forecasts

Tirumala Trust ran into problems even during the demonetization initiative. First, it couldn't deposit all its cash donations from all regions into the bank by the deadline. Then it was tasked with the sham donations on old currency notes. Devotees continued to unload their illegal cash into the hundi (old notes). May be they felt that God would be able to convert them into new currency and use it. Why all the bank hassle?

 

On Spelling

Mothers are great interpretors of baby-talk. Ask them what the baby just squawked and they will duly narrate you a long sentiment that snugly fitted in ba-bo-ka jibberish utterance. I tell you, mothers will make great translators at UN. Have you ever wondered how communication is established when boo-bah-ing babies repudiate the sensible constructs in the adult talk. That is when parents get down to parentese or child-directed talk. The bridge is babytalk (baby)-parentese(adult). The best convert of parentese is Frank Gilbreth Sr., the inventor of time and motion study, who, after initial refusal to engage in childish tinker, was found one night talking to his daughter Anne as follows.

Gilbreth didn't hold too fast to his rule: "At night, when the light was out Dad would reach over into the bassinet and stroke the baby's hand. And once Mother woke up in the middle of the night and saw him leaning over the bassinet and whispering distinctly: “Is 'ou a ittle bitty baby? Is 'ou Daddy's ittle bitty girl?” “What was that, dear?” said Mother, smiling into the sheet. Dad cleared his throat. “Nothing. I was just telling this noisy, ill-behaved, ugly little devil that she is more trouble than a barrel of monkeys.” “And just as much fun?” “Every bit.”

- Cheaper by the Dozen

When the baby squealed "kapuchi" (good morning!), you should have reciprocated that greeting with "ka poo ding wah chee ku dee" (you brat too have a fun morning).

 

On Hair

A receding hairline is screaming at a man not to squander money on combs anymore. How portentous!

Well said! On that note, here is my finding. This finding has taken into account years of observing men in malls, offices, elevators, and as helmet-less drivers. Men are naturally endowed with good hair than women (factoid!). When men fancy to grow hair, their hair grows like a bamboo. Their hair is soft and shiny. When women want to grow hair, it sprouts like a lazy cactus, that too rough and fizzy.

In general, I feel men are natural charmers with less grooming. I was talking to a male friend of mine who has a glowing sun-kissed complexion and flawless skin. I asked, "What face wash do you use?" He was puzzled. "Face wash? Why face wash? I use the same soap I use on my body?" "Soap, ehh?" We women like to separate our cleansing toiletry into body wash and face wash and hand wash and whatnot. We women give immoderate attention to preserve our charm whereas men are natural upkeepers. Then I asked him if he also used the same lotion/cream/moisturizer for body and face at which he was taken aback - What lotion?

 

On Thalapathy

Ramayan has a slushy and unrelatable storyline. Let's take that vanvaas plot in both the epics and contrast. Rama goes to vanvaas to gratify his father and his step-mother. Seriously? How foolhardy and vapid is that plot! In Mahabharata there are two instances of vanvaas.

(1) Pandu and his wives Kunti and Madri go to vanvaas to atone for a Rishi's curse.
(2) Pandavas accept vanvaas because they lost in the game of the dice.

In both these events, they were forced to accept self-exile. They could not have escaped the fate. They were driven to vanvaas. Hence, I like the characters in Mahabharat because you can relate to their predicament and self-doubt and chagrin. But Ramayan? That looks more like self-detonation.

 

On scent


When it comes to scent, we should invite our friend anteater. He is the expert sniffer! He has a long snout and poor sight. He goes sniff sniff sniff...insects.



Who can rival his snout and agile tongue. Personally, I find him adorable though he is classified as "ugly" by his animal brethren.

You cannot beat me in cartoons! I can watch nonstop over a weekend the Walt Disney Classics.

 

@Cheeniya

On subtitles

I have to share my woe with you. Recently (I don't know when, few weeks ago, it was all fine), Netflix changed the color of their subtitles. What did they change to? Pale yellow! Which idiot sanctioned such a color change? Now, the color blends with the background and I am unable to read the subtitles.

Don't they have a testing team or alpha, beta, or gamma controlled release to verify the effects of such ill-chosen and ghastly color. I am struggling since yesterday to read the subtitles. One of these days, I will write a tongue-lashing tirade to the Netflix Customer Services. There are old goobers like me who rely on subtitles.

 

@Cheeniya

On Parking

People have all kinds of parking problems not only on roads but also in apartments. This time when I was in India I too encountered the familiar problem.

I arrived in a cab and asked the cabman to stop at the entrance of the building to check if the parking lot is vacant. First, the watchman comes running, who are you? what do you want? In India, watchmen are alert on shabby intruders. Esp. ones wearing chappals and pyjamas, carrying a gypsy bag. I told my flat number and he retorted, "Nobody stays there". I clarified, "That nobody is me". He was surprised, or pleased, or welcoming, I could not make out from that pinched brows expression.

Then I resumed to walk towards the parking area to find that the parking lot allocated to my flat was occupied by two cars and a bike. In that small space, two cars and a bike, eh? I hauled my bags all the way to the lift from the passageway. I reached home and took three A4 sheets and was lost in thoughts on how to compose. I thought ..I thought then I finally scribbled and raced downstairs and stuck in each vehicle a sheet that read "I AM BACK".

The next morning, the two cars were gone, the bike was also gone, but my old sheet was retained in the bike's place underneath a stone. It read "THANK YOU".

Aw! The ungrateful carwalas.