And finally I have been tagged. It is an honor and I consider it my esteemed blah.. blah.. blah... My emotions surmount vehicles of blah.. blah.. and more blahs... I thank Ziah from the bottom of my blah.. blah.. blah.. Having done all that let me get the facts right. The tag, essentially forced me to list out five, nothing more nothing less, weird stuff about myself, however grouse they are, whatever species of living organism it may concern etc.. etc..
So I took a paper and pen and sat down to list out five weird facts about myself. I sat and thought and thought. I thought so much that I made Plato and Socrates look like mentally retarded dolts. But nothing fell out of that voluminous, mass of cerebral condominium. I knew I was perfect, but this was taking it too far. I pressed, prodded, poked; did everything within my power. Other than the fact that I managed to dislodge quite a number of hair follicles and increased the surface area of my face, nothing happened. My nerve broke.
And then I remembered my Mom.
I was a genius. If there was any person, other than my girlfriend who would know more about the enigma that I am than me, it would be my Mother. I decided to call her up. But before calling, I suddenly went into flashback mode. Accompanied by dull, throbbing music my face faded to reveal a 18 year old Chimp, sitting cross-legged in front of the idiot box in rapt attention while the better half of the manufacturer of this unique product sat by his side, feeding him sambhar rice and lentil curry. He mechanically opened his mouth and shut it at regular intervals, unaware of what went into that gaping, bottomless pit. The reason was obvious.
1. I love Ayesha Takia
Before getting into the mechanics of why I love Ayesha Takia, let me state a few ground rules that are essential to prove the authenticity of my statements.
a) Ayesha Takia is hot.
b) Ayesha Takia is hot
c) Ayesha Takia is hot.
Now the mechanics. Well, in effect there aren't any. Most of them are obviously obvious. I involuntarily used to wallow in my own drool the second I saw her on TV. My heart would break long jump records, my nerves- speed records and my hands - my grandfather's old records. The way she moves her hip, the way she smiles, her perfect set of white teeth, her smooth hip, her slender, pudgy fingers, the way she sucks at a Popsicle. I fell hook, line and sinker. I used to fantasize me and her, eating masala dosai and thengai chutney at Saravana Bhavan. My mom stuffed my mouth, as I drooled.
2. I love JETIX
I was forced to change the channel. I did not want my Mom getting suspicious about my clandestine love life. I liked playing spy. Anyway, I switched to my next favourite one.
JETIX!!!! JETIX!!!! JETIX!!!!
The second and the third ones are echoes, added for effect. The reason why I loved this usually, ridiculed channel was because, all the series that they telecast were dubbed in Tamil. The dubbing was too hilarious and the storyline even more ridiculous than the translation. I used to laugh both my rear cheeks off. My mom thought otherwise and took me to a psychiatrist. She was in for a shock. The psychiatrist loved Jetix. There you go. Now that you have professional reassurance; I bideth thee, the multitudes, to go watcheth Jetix and spreadeth the word to all the four corners of the Earth aplenty. And let be there be power rangers, forever..!
3. Old women tickle my libido
Yup. I will stop here. I am not elaborating any further. I don't want my Mom blundering her way here and finding out the reason why her son went out with his 69-year old neighbor for frequent walks of 0.3 kilometers, everyday.
4. I am a hard core, heartless, ruthless, spineless, lochness torturer
I continued eating, still changing channels when this missile landed on my thigh. It had immediately penetrated deep, on landing and was meticulously sucking. I waited as my master had taught me. He was the perfect assassin, when he was in his prime. He told me how the villain bends his proboscis and slowly inserts it into the skin. Ignorant people blindly swat. Actually, you have to wait. Once the villain has his proboscis stuck inside, he cannot escape. And then you slap your thigh and yell in pain. But success is guaranteed. I was. I caught the struggling mosquito and held it to the light examining it.
It struggled. My eyes glinted with glee. Yup. I did it. I first tore out its legs, one by one. Then its belly and squeezed it to release my blood. I finally crushed the head.
I am ruthless. When it comes to mosquitoes, that is.
5. The bane of humankind
And then I puked. My mom looked at me guiltily. I stared at her for some time and then at the plate, where the hot rice was swimming in sambhar. Finally, I saw them. In numbers, beyond the scope of counting, even by an i-Calculator. My Mom sweetly apologized, saying that her hand slipped. Otherwise there would not have been so many. I felt sorry and kissed her. I gave it another look and puked all over again.
Mustard screws me up.
Flashback over, I called up my Mom. I talked for an hour, reminiscing about her feeding me. I wanted her to feed me again.
She called me a weirdo. The irony of it all.
So I took a paper and pen and sat down to list out five weird facts about myself. I sat and thought and thought. I thought so much that I made Plato and Socrates look like mentally retarded dolts. But nothing fell out of that voluminous, mass of cerebral condominium. I knew I was perfect, but this was taking it too far. I pressed, prodded, poked; did everything within my power. Other than the fact that I managed to dislodge quite a number of hair follicles and increased the surface area of my face, nothing happened. My nerve broke.
And then I remembered my Mom.
I was a genius. If there was any person, other than my girlfriend who would know more about the enigma that I am than me, it would be my Mother. I decided to call her up. But before calling, I suddenly went into flashback mode. Accompanied by dull, throbbing music my face faded to reveal a 18 year old Chimp, sitting cross-legged in front of the idiot box in rapt attention while the better half of the manufacturer of this unique product sat by his side, feeding him sambhar rice and lentil curry. He mechanically opened his mouth and shut it at regular intervals, unaware of what went into that gaping, bottomless pit. The reason was obvious.
1. I love Ayesha Takia
Before getting into the mechanics of why I love Ayesha Takia, let me state a few ground rules that are essential to prove the authenticity of my statements.
a) Ayesha Takia is hot.
b) Ayesha Takia is hot
c) Ayesha Takia is hot.
Now the mechanics. Well, in effect there aren't any. Most of them are obviously obvious. I involuntarily used to wallow in my own drool the second I saw her on TV. My heart would break long jump records, my nerves- speed records and my hands - my grandfather's old records. The way she moves her hip, the way she smiles, her perfect set of white teeth, her smooth hip, her slender, pudgy fingers, the way she sucks at a Popsicle. I fell hook, line and sinker. I used to fantasize me and her, eating masala dosai and thengai chutney at Saravana Bhavan. My mom stuffed my mouth, as I drooled.
2. I love JETIX
I was forced to change the channel. I did not want my Mom getting suspicious about my clandestine love life. I liked playing spy. Anyway, I switched to my next favourite one.
JETIX!!!! JETIX!!!! JETIX!!!!
The second and the third ones are echoes, added for effect. The reason why I loved this usually, ridiculed channel was because, all the series that they telecast were dubbed in Tamil. The dubbing was too hilarious and the storyline even more ridiculous than the translation. I used to laugh both my rear cheeks off. My mom thought otherwise and took me to a psychiatrist. She was in for a shock. The psychiatrist loved Jetix. There you go. Now that you have professional reassurance; I bideth thee, the multitudes, to go watcheth Jetix and spreadeth the word to all the four corners of the Earth aplenty. And let be there be power rangers, forever..!
3. Old women tickle my libido
Yup. I will stop here. I am not elaborating any further. I don't want my Mom blundering her way here and finding out the reason why her son went out with his 69-year old neighbor for frequent walks of 0.3 kilometers, everyday.
4. I am a hard core, heartless, ruthless, spineless, lochness torturer
I continued eating, still changing channels when this missile landed on my thigh. It had immediately penetrated deep, on landing and was meticulously sucking. I waited as my master had taught me. He was the perfect assassin, when he was in his prime. He told me how the villain bends his proboscis and slowly inserts it into the skin. Ignorant people blindly swat. Actually, you have to wait. Once the villain has his proboscis stuck inside, he cannot escape. And then you slap your thigh and yell in pain. But success is guaranteed. I was. I caught the struggling mosquito and held it to the light examining it.
It struggled. My eyes glinted with glee. Yup. I did it. I first tore out its legs, one by one. Then its belly and squeezed it to release my blood. I finally crushed the head.
I am ruthless. When it comes to mosquitoes, that is.
5. The bane of humankind
And then I puked. My mom looked at me guiltily. I stared at her for some time and then at the plate, where the hot rice was swimming in sambhar. Finally, I saw them. In numbers, beyond the scope of counting, even by an i-Calculator. My Mom sweetly apologized, saying that her hand slipped. Otherwise there would not have been so many. I felt sorry and kissed her. I gave it another look and puked all over again.
Mustard screws me up.
Flashback over, I called up my Mom. I talked for an hour, reminiscing about her feeding me. I wanted her to feed me again.
She called me a weirdo. The irony of it all.
