Don't tell anyone....

Today I received, from a good friend ,a forwarded mail that said about the fastest means of communication.
....... Three FASTEST means of Communication :

1. Tele-Phone

2. Tele-Vision

3. Tell a Woman (Nowadays its called Broadband)
Need FASTER Broadband- Tell her NOT to tell ANYONE..


Women indulge so much in gossips( not that men don't)that they are never trusted to keep a secret . Atleast some of them ache to belch out the secret to someone .I am reminded of a grand aunt in my family who thrived on gossips . She was known for efficiently circulating all news . Sometimes it was a trivial tattle ,harmless to none. But as she grew old she became notorius for dishing the dirt about relatives and friends and there came a time when people began to avoid her..

She made her morning visit to the nearby temples,and here met folks who would pass on the latest happenings to her.She then came to my house for breakfast.After savouring the idli sambar , she would walk about restlessly , wearing a constipated look on her face.Amma and I would smile at each other.And then Amma would ask her " what is it oppol? what is bothering you?" She had been waiting for some one to put that question to her.With a smile of relief she would come and sit next to amma and then look at me, not sure whether I should be listening. I would hide myself behind the newspaper and pretend to read it...an act that made her believe that I was not interested. Then she would whisper into amma's ears beginning with her famous "Don't tell anyone that I told you..." line ,which meant that she didn't mind the news carrying but didn't want anyone to know that she was the one who scripted it.Having said what she had to say she would leave with a look of content , her rumbling tummy put to rest and a smile playing on her lips. Amma had often told us not to talk much when she was around, for she would spill the details of the conversation she heard at the next stop and it would obviously be an exaggerated version .

She did the broadcasting those days and with amazing speed ! Not a world wide web but the local area network of olden days...

What am I doing now ? 'Blossiping' about the poor departed soul ?( speak no evil of the dead ) ... But now that you have read ... don't tell anyone I told you... please..

What a dream !

I am some one who doesn't dream when sleeping. I dream only when I am awake .. with eyes wide open.When I am alone. when I am bored ,when everyone around me is engrossed in something that is of no interest to me I take a flight to fantasy land... dream of beautiful places I may never visit, of homes that I have seen often in the "Inside Outside" and "Designer " magazines.I dream that I am travelling in a train that slowly rocks me to sleep as I view the passing landscape through the window.But my sleeps are often dreamless.Someone said I am fortunate to get a sound sleep. Not everyone is able to sleep so well.

Then one day I did dream in my sleep .

The previous night I had not been able to sleep at all,because there was a power failure and when the windows were opened to let some fresh air in, an army of mosquitoes entered too.The rest of the night hubby and I had taken turns in waving the newly purchased electric bat in the air .By the time the power came , our sleep time was over.So in the noon I had an early lunch and an early siesta,and that is when I dreamt.

I had only fallen asleep when a big king kong sized mosquito landed on me. It rubbed its front legs in glee as if thrilled to see it's prey and then it scooped me from the bed and took me far away , later perched me on a rock in some God forasaken place . It bent low as if to kiss and I wished like the ugly toad in the fable ,this one would turn to some charming prince.But the wicked vampire instead pricked me with its proboscis on my neck below my left ear and happily sipped every drop of blood. I lay there helplessly.As the mosquito made the slurping sound I knew it was done ! It now hopped away. too heavy to fly after having consumed the gallons of blood . My body lay deflated on the rocks and looked like the pink panther , paper like . My favourite yellow saree was still draped round me . A camera came from nowhere to get a close up of me .Behind the camera I saw a familiar face .It was Steve irwin ,the adventurous fellow from 'Animal Planet'(Was he still alive ?) He seemed to have shifted his interest from crocodiles to fellow humans. I tried to smile. He said he was Stephen Spielberg . (Oh ! Why did he change his name ?)So it was not me but the giant mosquito he was intersted in. Shooting for his nth Jurasssic Park ,I thought,without the dinosaurs .He gave some commentary looking at the camera and then picked my skin ( where had the flesh and bones gone ?) folded it and placed it carefully in a bag ,bid bye to his camera and walked away .
I had woken up with a leap . I could hear the TV in the next room . My little son had the volume level high and as I went near the TV I saw that he had been watching on 'Animal Planet ' an episode with Steve Irwin and his crocs !!!!!!!

Cheers !

Cheers !

Late in the evening , I noticed my father in law seated in his armchair at the end of the veranda quietly sipping his sun downer. A routine he never missed . It helped him relax after a long tiring day , he said ,and get a good sound sleep in the night!

Last month there was a stag party on our terrace . Crates of liquor were carried up . The married men who attended the party teased the young fellow and shared their own marital experiences with him . The cheers , songs and guffaws could be heard till it was well past midnight. The prospective groom had celebrated well , the last days of his bachelorhood!

Solemn Simon uncle , our old neighbour in Mumbai , never lied when he had had a drink. In the morning in his sober mood he had said that his son had got 80% for his board exams. In the evening when he returned home after having his evening quota , he met another neighbour of ours and confessed to him that his son had got only 59 % and so he was worried whether his son would get admission in any college. And to erase these worries he had had a 'large' . The next morning the marks went up to a precise 80.2% !

When men talk about getting together they usually mean having a drink together .Years back an uncle of mine had invited some of his glass mates for a ' get together ' . One mate had been too shy to talk to the women folk in the house. He looked at the women and flashed a smile at them only after he had his first peg. After the second one , he had started talking . He had not finished his third round when he switched over from the vernacular to English. He became more loquacious with each drink and laughed loud at his own jokes. What happened after that ,I had not waited to watch.

But I remember ,when I met him the next morning he was sober and shy as before !

"If I remember right there are five excuses for drinking: the visit of a guest, present thirst,
future thirst, the goodness of the WINE, and any other excuse you choose!"