Friday 24 April 2009

The Random Man

Scene from a few Thursdays ago - Thursdays being everyone's favourite lunch day because we get cheese pastries in the canteen food. These are known to the outside world as quesadillas. This scene is comprehensive - no dialogues have been missed, nor has the gist of any dialogue been altered or omitted, although the exact words used may have differed.
 
Part I of Scene
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Random Man in Quesadilla Line: (After having closely and annoyingly observed my mannerisms and my chat with a colleague) Are you from India?
Me: (Recalling the Mother's "don't talk to strangers" speech (even if they're Indian?)) Ermmm....yes
Me: Sweet corn, peppers and aubergines please.
RMIQL: Where in India?
Me: (with the are-you-still-here eyes) Errmmm...Bombay.
Me: (Noting RMIQL's expectant expression hoping for the obvious counter-question, but also noting the uninviting chicken on offer. The ever-sharp brain comes to my rescue) Can I have the quorn/tofu please?
RMIQL: (Now pointing to things intermittently as he speaks) What are these called?
Me: (Still thoroughly polite - not yet saccharine) Baingan - they call it aubergines.
RMIQL: What are these called?
Me: (Still somewhat polite) Peppers
Me: Yes, cheese please. And some jalapenos.
RMIQL: What is this?
Me: (*Abbey salle - chup reh na do minute. Mujhe apna Q ka preparation ko monitor karne de*) Sour cream.
RMIQL: Ah, yes - I've had that. What is this?
Me: (*Aaaarggggh*) Guacamole.
RMIQL: (Justifiably bewildered expression - not that I care anymore)
Me: It's made from avocado.
RMIQL: (Satisfyingly, an even more bewildered expression)
Me: It's interesting. Go for it if you've never had it.
Me: (Vigorous Italian shake of the hand) NO! No guacamole please - just sour cream. No corn on the cob.
RMIQL: Really?
Me: (*Will you shut up about the guacamole?*) It's good, you should try it. (knowing fully well that the guacamole we get is downright awful)
RMIQL: (Annoying unbelieving expression)
Me: (*silent grunt*)
Me: (Mood improving on seeing the Q coming off the toast) Yes, eat in please.
 
Part II of Scene (2.5 seconds after end of Part I)
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RMIQL: So, what visa are you on?
Me: (*WHAT THE BLEEDING $&£#??*) Ermmm...ermmm...(genuinely scratching my head to recover from neural shock and jog my memory) I have an entry clearance.
RMIQL: (condescendingly, with increasing levels of aggressiveness) NO! NO! That cannot be a type of visa - what type is it? Are you on HSMP - which is now Tier I? Are you on a student visa? Tourist VISA? WORKING HOLIDAY? WHAT?
Me: (*WHO THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU??*) Errmm....I have a work permit (feeling somewhat clumsy and a deep regret that its the best answer I can offer, rather than what I actually said in my head)
RMIQL: (disinterested now) Ah ok...
Me: (Taking my plate) Thanks.
Me: (to RMIQL) Rrrright....see you (wishing soon after that I knew RMIQL's real name so as to ensure adequate retaliation for the fact that in my desperation to run away, I had failed to notice that the chap at the counter had just served me a double guacamole dollop and no sour cream at all to go with my cheese pastry)

Thursday 23 April 2009

Of Tom, Dick and Harry

A post I wrote during the summer in Delhi - but for some reason failed to post...

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My efforts in Bombay directed towards wasp deconservation are now, of course, legendary on this blog. (For the late starters - see here and here). Wasps, like humans, are ready to take over every possible part of the world. And so, my tryst with wasps continues in Delhi.

In our bid to make the veranda more hospitable for our own kind, nests of wasps (who decided that our chimes made for a very nice home) were removed. Also, we sealed off with cement the hole in the wall above the fan where a few pioneering wasps had decided to bring into effect the concept of a nuclear family.

The joint family wasps were, for all practical purposes exterminated. However, city life (or its wasp equivalent) and its associated dangers invariably toughens individuals. Enter: Tom, Dick and Harry - the three nuclear-family-loving wasps who had survived the cement onslaught, possibly because at the time of the cementing they were in one of the neighbouring watering holes getting silly on ... (whatever wasps get drunk on)

Another important piece of information re: wasps before I proceed - wasps deprived of their families (albeit nuclear) and their erstwhile homes (albeit a little cubby hole above our veranda fan) do not make for good company. This is especially brought to the fore when a lethargic, slightly overweight, afternoon-coffee-drinking, career wasp-deconserver wants to enjoy the pleasures of the fresh air in the veranda under the fan.

Tom was the first to go. Hit by a blade of the fan in his attempt to reach his castle, he lethargically fell towards the ground, dangerously close to my frowning face. Having learnt my lesson in previous battles, I reached for the ET and with one good whack slashed the erstwhile wasp population of our house by one third.

Harry was the next to go. Nonetheless, before going, Harry provided a significant breakthrough in my quest to prove certain basic facts of life. In this case, he proved my fundamental hypothesis about all creatures on this planet - that they cannot be both beautiful and smart. Despite being a fairly large creature compared to, say, an ant or a baby earthworm or a non-firang mosquito, Harry's good looks and shiny yellow tan had deprived him of adequate grey matter. Tom's demise apparently failed to light any sort of spark in Harry's brain and he gallantly (but without adequate thought) took up the challenge of fulfilling Tom's lasting legacy of fighting to access the cubby hole.

A single smack from a blade and Harry was ready to limp away from the battlefield himself. However, I am a worthy and battle-hardened adversary and I have learnt that a wounded wasp is often the most dangerous. But since he was well on his way to join Tom, I needed but one swipe from the TOI to ensure that Harry received a soldier's farewell.

That left only Dick and following my observation on the lack of wasps' brain power is, I made my first mistake of the battle and assumed he wasn't going to let the departure of his comrades discourage him from picking up the baton. However, I had tragically failed to notice that he was not as beautiful as Tom and almost certainly ugly when compared to Harry. This error cost me dearly when on a fantastic and stunningly quick manoeuvre, Dick opted for a swooping descent aided by the tail wind from the fan, and managed to leave his mark on my back with a piercing sting of his...ermm...sting. 

I naturally retaliated with boiling blood and ET in hand and left Dick severely wounded before asking the Mother to tend to what was quickly turning into a rather large injury spot. 

I was, however, not prepared to make my second mistake of the battle and I returned to the field with my beloved ET - and brought to an undeniable and brutal end the erstwhile wasp population of the house.

Thus passed Tom-the homemaking imbecile, Dick-the gallant General and Harry-the beautiful one...

Friday 6 February 2009

Of boredom and more confusion

My country is going mad...see here and here to share my confusion.

Thursday 15 January 2009

Of Exhaustion and Bewilderness

I figured that events across the space of the week leading up to and the one after the new year deserve mention.

That having been done, I also thought my new found (and not necessarily momentary) spare time and the absolute lack of ideas of what to do with it deserve mention. Even so, certain additions to my collection of 'things to make noise with' have definitely livened up the evenings. It also emerges that a clean and orderly house is highly overrated and is not nearly as interesting or as people make it out to be. Truth be told, the old house was infinitely better...there is always a positive side to a mess.

In other news (precious little that there is), I have discovered that drain unblockers are a bit of a sham, that my iron works fine when the Elder One does not use it and that my body is, in general, breaking down and that I need to get myself fit.

P.S. the new F1 cars look rubbish...and are probably going to be very similar to the A1 nonsense.

Here endeth the rant...