08 November 2006

About three unname-able people

One person in the office has started to wear a coat, suit and tie soon after he was given the title of Lead Developer For X and Y. This, despite the work environment being quite relaxed and dress code rather informal. This is in direct contrast to the behaviour of the third person in this essaylet.

The second person wears thick black glasses, a ring on one ear and his long matted shineless hair is piled up in an unflattering lump in the centre of his head. I have seen him loiter around near the photocopying machine and the printer. He sits at his desk, alone, behind a large green cupboard, sips coffee and ticks off something in a typed white sheet.

The third person, I have seen only once. I had to lean forward, squint and raise my eyebrow to make sure I was not imagining him in my head. He was dressed in a black leather jacket and a black leather skirt that went way above his knees. His head was smooth and oval. Shaved to a pink.

For now, I am not going to say anything about the man who wears a purple and black waistcoat every day (god, he must smell!) or about the girl who dyed her hair blue. Too ordinary.

31 October 2006

Google eBay Ad

I saw it here.

History Lessons

My only and crazy little nephew Sanat, eight years old, is in school and up to a lot of things like being an admirer of Himesh Reshammiya and superman and fighting evil forces. In his academic life, he was recently working an assignment on Gandhi. It so happens that he thinks Gandhiji preached atyagraha (ahem, greed) instead of satyagraha (seeking truth). Now how did he manage to skip the first letter? I can understand how he interpreted the little rhyme here as an encouragement to litter the floor.

Bits of paper, Bits of paper
Lying on the ground, Lying on the ground
Make the place untidy, Make the place untidy
Pick them up, Pick them up

But I sincerely hope he grows up to be less indignant and more understanding of Gandhiji who had wanted only the British to leave when he said 'Quit India' !

Trick or treat?

The pub next door was bustling with grown ups and noisy little children. It was a bit too busy for a Tuesday evening. I certainly didn't expect to hear a knock at the door. Surely not after all members of my family (i.e. Ashok) had got back home. So I opened the door and didn't find anyone in the eye level.

I looked down and there was a little girl in a skeleton costume and an even snaller sack in her hand saying to me trick or treat?. I gaped in unpreparedness. Ashok came through in time and spoke with unprecedented ease and familiarity and the girl stayed standing with her bag. So it came to my information that on Halloween's day, chocolate or any form of sweet is to be given to such twilight visitors. That done, the girl thanked us happily and shot off.

The second knock followed soon enough and I leaped up to open the door. This time there were two girls . Both dressed in red frocks with some red and blue ears, blue paint over the eyes and better looking bags. However, they hadn't said anything. I smiled and then leaned forward and downward smilingly. They stared back at me, quiet and smileless. Now, I could not say Treat! to them. So following their example, I cheerlessly handed the chocolate. They scraped it from my hand and walked away without thanking or wishing me happiness on Halloween.

The third knock came from a little witch in a pointed orange hat and flowing white gown. She had her face covered in green , but I am sure she was smiling when she peeped through the eye hole in her mask. She eagerly greeted me and yelled Trick or Treat. And for my part, I festively handed her the chocolate.

Wonder what the spooky little people would do had I said Trick!



30 October 2006

Proof to Sibling


This is for the benefit of Sreesh some day to convince him that the beach in Poole didn't have many waves and one of the reasons why it didn't irritate me very much. It is so unlike a sand and wave infested beach that it is even called something else, a quay (say kee to get it right, or qway to rhyme with sway and be individual). This is my view of what they call Durdle Door arch.