Why?
1. Tigers are territorial and sometimes move on to new territories
2. Stupid blogger is not letting anyone comment on my posts after I switched to the new beta version
New address: http://tigerseason.blogspot.com/
That's a story you read somewhere else, not here not now.
Did you hear the one about how I nearly got involved in a multi million dollar birthday cake scandal, which very nearly landed me up in a jail?
I think not. The news papers and reporters were snubbed down so they won't report the incident. This girl who had passed her matriculate exam famously was behind everything. She received an award of accolade direct from the then chief minister for this (passing the exam famously, not for being behind everything)
First a flashback:
(woing woing woing woing woing...)
It all really began on a rainy day in late 19 _ _, when young Thomas pinched his beautiful wife Tracy when no one was looking. Tracy turned and looked at him embarrassed, blushed and pinched him right back (“Take that my naughty little husband who behaves naughtily and pinches me when my back was turned just for an instant! Ha!”). And you think our young Thomaskutty, who is in the prime of his life, would stay silent after she pulls a stunt like this? No way would he stay quiet, and quite understandably too. One thing led to another and a beep-bata-bap-bita-boom, after nine months Jenny Thomas was born on Aug 23, 19 _ _.
Cut to present time, a few months back:
(woing woing woing woing woing...)
Now the year is 200_, and it is August 23 again. Jenny subtly let her colleagues know that it was her birthday (“and you lot better celebrate and make it special!”). Her colleagues promptly conjured up a birthday cake, candles, a 6" knife and party hats. Then they all gathered around in the pantry to celebrate. The cake was cut, the song was sung and a face was painted. Everything went ahead as the birthday girl had *ahem* planned.
Except, this one girl was missing, who had gone to dance horribly in a dance program.
When we were singing ‘happy birthday dear Jennnyyyy’ in chorus, she was messing up her steps in order. When we were greedily gobbling up the birthday cake, her audience were going booo and throwing tomatoes.
When we were kis… oh shmuck it. You get the picture. We were all celebrating and being merry at one place, and this girl was dancing horribly at another place. If this were a movie, the screen would show us singing, and then cut to her mismatching her steps. Cut back to face-painting in pantry, then cut to dance stage with boos from audience.
Pantry, stage ... stage, pantry.
Anyway, Jenny went home happy, everyone else also went home full, I stayed back, I had some work. At this time this dancing girl marched up to my desk (she was understandably tired and upset), interrupted me and demanded her share of the cake which she had somehow expected her mates to keep aside for her.
***************************************** B r e a k *****************************************
There is a girl who is truly in love with me
There is a girl who is madly in love with me
There is a girl who is deeply in love with me
Now I wonder, what would happen if all three girls met?
*************************************** Back to the story ***************************************
The girl was frantically looking everywhere for her piece of the cake. This sight broke my heart – here was a girl, fairly plump who was searching everywhere desperately for food, that too in present day relatively hunger-free India.
Now the girl looked up and saw me lost in my above mentioned thoughts & philosophical juggernauts, and immediately started accusing me of wolfing down and gobbling up her share of the cake without leaving even a crumb for her. Her share was rightfully hers she said. She became hysterical. Some people later said this is where the theatrical million dollar scandal began scandalizing.
The theatrics involved:
· Stomping down her feet in quick succession
· Filling tears in her eyes
· Crying “mo-o-mmmmy-y-y-y” and the likes.
She also snatched my wallet and said she would not give it back unless she got at least a pastry in return.
She purposefully missed the last bus (with obvious plans on me dropping her home) and made me buy her pastries as compensation (in the middle of the night). While she was ravenously eating up the pastries in a near-empty bakery sitting next to a seemingly harmless guy, my mind took a naughty turn and started devising plans for violating her rights (which I didn’t put into action. Apparently I WAS harmless).
I called up a friend to drop her home since I was not too confident with my driving skills (my bike was brand new. I hadn't spent enough time getting accustomed to the ways of The Motor Bike then; but now I'm a dare devil on wheels (again, another story another time)), but she was insistent on me dropping her myself and blah blah blah, I ended up saying ok ok I'll be your driver tonight. I drove the best I could considering there was a fairly plump dancing girl on pillion, which, incidentally was like a drunkard on heroin driving zig n zag n zig n zag.. The friend I mentioned at the beginning of this very paragraph had come along as escort for her royal highness and moral support for his royal majesty (me mee meee).
So we finally reached her place, and before she went inside, she turned and looked at me and smiled a sweet little smile.
That smile was probably worth more than a million dollars.
(hence the involvement of million dollars in the scandal)
Two months later, on another girl’s birthday, outside her place on the verandah of a nearby shop near midnight, she sat next to me, shed some tears on me and told me she loved me.
But then again, that’s another story.
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of…
..someone else’s favourite things. Not mine. So who cares?
Blah.
These are a few of my favourites–
1. a majestic n fierce royal bengal tiger (or tigress)
2. a quiet calm and beautiful beach
3. a rainbow
4. chilled beer
5. princess leia, preferably in her gold bikini
6. an open air theatre
7. usage of u after o in words like ‘favourite’, neighbourhood’, ‘colour’ etc.
8. that sweet norwegian movie ‘odd little man’
The day I watch ‘odd little man’ – with proper English (UK) subtitles, in an open air theatre located by a quiet n calm beach, in overcast conditions with a rainbow in the sky, with only two other spectators –
a) one fully grown royal bengal tiger (or tigress)
b) one princess, answers to the name Leia, in her gold bikini, having pints n pints of chilled beer with me
- I’ll be more than happy to renounce my earthly existence (once the movie and beer is over of course)
Nobody would’ve died happier.
I’ll attain salvation.
Budham Saranam Gachami
This girl, she comes to me, tells me, she loves me.
She tells me she’s been watching me, she’s never met anyone quite like me, she sees all the world in me.
She tells me she will do anything for me, swim the seas for me, climb the peaks for me;
Jump across, walk through, run down any barrier for me.
She hugs me, she kisses me and she looks at me,
Oh, she is so sweet to me.
This girl, she comes to me, she tells me she wants to be with me.
She tells me she cares about me, she dreams about me, she thinks of nothing but me.
She tells me she values my honesty, modesty and sincerity.
Man, she clearly understands me!
She clears all the doubt in me, yes, she is in love with me.
This girl, she comes to me, virtually worships me, she fascinates me.
I do not see any trickery, she overwhelms me with flattery.
She tells me she will do my laundry, buy my grocery, keep me in luxury.
She will watch over me like my mother god fairy.
It is elementary, she is under some sorcery.
This girl, I look at her. She is oh-so-beautiful.
Really, do look at her. Arrrrrrrr...my thoughts turn sinful
I look at her, she looks at me.
One moment passes.
A second moment follows.
At the third moment, I smile at her, and she smiles back at me
I borrow her cell, call up my home and tell them -
- not to expect me
***************************************************************
I’m handsome. In all my modesty, I modestly declare I’m the single most handsome guy on the planet. I’m the craze of lovely maidens. My 10th grade teacher had the hotties for me (that’s the reason I flunked two years. Even though I was brilliant, she failed me on purpose so she could keep me in her year). Apart from this, I’ve had a smooth ride so far.
Attention when I need it, attention when I don’t need it. A boastable list of telephone numbers. Hell, I can even make a big catalog outta my current and ex-girl friends. No sweat! Girls of all kind – rich, famous, influential, gorgeous-to-the-most-superlative-degree – they run around me, fulfilling each and every one of my wishes, however trivial, just to keep me happy. And it’s all because I’m extraordinarily good looking.
Now...
Suppose for an instant that I am not handsome
{Shudder}
Perish the thought, I can’t imagine what an ordinary life it would mean.
It’s difficult ti suppose, but just imagine that I was never really good-looking (NOTE: at this point if you feel a slight tremor, it could possibly be because of a collective shudder of all those girls at different parts of the world who, god forbid, imagined this at the same time).
Life would’ve been plain, MY life of course. I wouldn’t have got all the attention I’ve gotten used to now. I would’ve had to work hard for everything. No rich super-model girl friends any more. A five and a half feet tall, slightly plump, bespectacled girl at the most. An average girl for an average boy who’ll have an average life, beset with the average problems of the world.
Aw it’s depressing. I confess. I’m not handsome. I’m an average boy of the world (boo hoo hoo). I lied.
Then again, if you look at the big picture, none of this really dun matter. To look at the big picture, and appreciate its splendid treat of visual magnificence and out-o’-this-world experience, you’ll have to step back a tiny winy bit. So step back a tiny winy bit.
A bit more. Don’t hesitate now, move on, move on.
Let’s say, step back 250,000 kilometers. You are in outer space. Nay, you are in heaven.
Now look down (Are you afraid of heights? or dark? or being in strange places?). Look down from heaven’s eyes.
Can you see the earth? Isn’t it good looking? From way out there, my problems practically do not exist, right? I bet you can’t even see me if I wave my hand at you. You can’t see that I am still clinging on to something that I should’ve let go when she said it can’t work out exactly four years and four months back. You can’t see that I let another potential relationship, which was too good to be true for an average guy, go to ruins. And you can’t see that I’d give anything to get my speech back (Sob, it’s touching).
All you see is Earth going round-n-round the Sun. If it is there in one piece, and it goes on its way, you are happy. May be the Heaven-dweller is happy too (psst..ask Him)
I guess the Earth will go on its way no matter I get what I want or not. Agreed? In that case, why don’t I get what I want? Now that you're already in Heaven, I'm sure you can arrange it - just to make my day (read : pretty please...? [eye lashes batter-batter])
Take it down -
I’d rather be extraordinarily handsome.
And smart too.
And yeah... I’d rather Carmen Electra has the hotties for me
:-D (EEEEEEEE)
It was a few days later, that I got a new lease of life. Hope came in the form of a mail – the mail that would change everything.
The change was there to see all around. In less than one month’s time of my receiving the auspicious mail, B would be handed down a transfer to another location, where he would work under an even ruthless superior and he would lose his cabin for a commonplace cubicle. The punishment transfer and the preceding fall from grace would be on account of the cancellation of a
The mail, which turned out to be my saviour, was an offer letter from a rival company operating in Technopark Tower itself. As chance would have it, one
I took a couple of days off to meet this recruitment hound, attended a brief interview and got the job in my bag. Their offer was a generous one with
The timing was perfect for the ruin of MYR project; with the other major role player absent on a month long leave for her marriage.
I walked in to B’s cabin to hand down my resignation. The letter was copied to his boss and the department head. He read through the letter in bewilderment with a look of disbelief in his face, his mouth slightly ajar. His jaws dropped further when he reached the Ground(s) on which the Employee is Discontinuing Employment.
Reasons for leaving? I got plenty.
The shitty job, the over work, the late hours and the night outs, working on weekends, not enough payment, missing satisfaction, no appreciation, no vacation and too much pressure from a dreadful leader.
PS: also my boss is an ass.
‘Any questions?’
My boss was an ass.
(In all probability he might still be an ass. He is no longer my boss)
Mr. B appeared as a stone in my shoe the day I joined the Trivandrum branch of the private firm, Mayur pvt ltd (U silent). This pristine firm had in those days, a fair amount of branches, twigs, brushwood and boughs all over the world; and it was the pride and joy of Technopark Tower in small town Trivandrum. Before I joined hands with Pride 'n' Joy, I was engaged in Mayur's production support center in Madras, where I sat in a corner bench without any major work, where I got bored, applied for a transfer, which in turn got approved, and I reported to Mr.B in Trivandrum, who promptly assigned a major role for me in the crucial MYR project
Now, this Mr.B, he is the Ass. As managers go, he is motivating and encouraging, a natural leader, displays leadership qualities, acts as a mentor, makes right decisions at the right time, takes bottom-line responsibility, gives credit where it is due, is fair in his dealings and an extremely good sport.
Or so he said. The rest of us just thought he was an ass.
He could talk gibberish, baloney and nonsense for hours, and could not lend his ears to reason even for a minute. When the fancy seizes him, he would take it upon himself to motivate his us with his Standard Motivating Speech version 2.63 ('I am proud to be a Mayuron'). He would regularly send out inspiring mails, news updates about Mayur's Siberian development center and crossword puzzles to everyone. He was also supposedly looking after the office recreation club and the library. This left little time for him to carry out his own actual duties for which the company was paying him.
Direct result - we ended up doing all his work for him, in addition of our own load. He turned out to be a delegating wolf in sheep’s clothing (the goatee was for effect)
So this was how I started taking weekly presentations at the top floor conference room, in front of a sleepy crowd representing the stalwart companies in Technopark Towers and also Mayur's own idle hands, on behalf of my boss who couldn't take time off from his busy schedule for these weekly rituals. But whenever my boss could find a little time off his demanding schedule, he would walk past and throw in some of his high-intelligent queries towards the end of these presentations (‘Any questions?' 'Yeah, what do you make out of design patterns for reusable systems in enhanced project re-design module? Are you for them or against them?')
In one of the more interesting presentations, I was explaining the finer details of Blah-Blah in Software Testing. I was doing good too (who am I kidding? I was going great!).. Well at least until He joined in an hour later with a murmur-of-a-non-existent-apology and sat himself in the front row (Enter the Donkey - part deux). This time he didn't wait for the Q & A session, to begin firing his stream of non-sensical questions. I dodged a few, tried to make sense out of some with elaborate explanations and threw the rest right back at him with point blank I-don't-knows. The game went to extra time and the end result was that my presentation was ruined. I grew livid. I quit doing any more of his presentations, he didn’t like the idea, and he went and ruined my appraisal. At the end of the quarter, my salary hike turned out to be imaginary. My paycheck was still as light. (Big punch right on face)
Will continue...
About me
- I'm suresh
- From trivandrum, bangalore, mysore, India
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