Our Power Supply guys should be given Param Vir Chakras 🙂

I make this statement in lieu of the amazing audacity with which they seem to take on nature’s fury head on, every single year. As the sun gets blazing on high octane (actually it’s more like Hydrogen and Helium… hah, like you care!), come the unforgiving summer, something in the Power Supply guys instill them to stand up and say… “ That the best you can hit us with, you pipsqueak… Who Daddy Whoooo! Let’s show the summer our resilience with power cuts for hours everywhere! Baah!” Great Warriors like Attila and Alexander seem like Bugs and Daffy, in front of such extreme war schemas! Anyway… Sunday saw a power-cut, in accordance to the war plans, in my area for about an hour. As the TV I was watching went dark … some dark corners of my brain drenched in light….

TV Ghost

The following is a true story. Certain parts of the text may be unsuitable for little children, babies and other semi-intelligent pets. No gory details have been edited, for viewer discretion. (Infact they have been touched up, to ruin your lunch/dinner). If ‘above 18’ Click here to continue.

The story was told to me by my cousin, one rainy afternoon (like the other 364) in Kerala. This was in turn a story that was told to him, by another of his cousin, on yet another rainy afternoon (like the other 363).

As narrated by cousin’ cousin’ (with special inputs from me, swaadanusar)

It so happened that a man walked into an electronics shop, with a wrapped up box in his hand. The contortions on his face, as he lifted it, indicated it to be something between the range of a truck and a soap box. After 13 minutes of doing knotty knotty stuff, a TV was revealed! Err… did I say TV… sorry it was a black box with smouldered plastic, and a peeling ‘deocon’ written on one side.

Transcript:

The shop owner: What happened?

TV dude: Need Repairs.

The shop owner: No shit! I thought marriage gift. So tell me… what happened?

< Readers…swear on FLOYD…once again… this is a true story>

TV dude: Lightening struck. Power went out. TV won’t start.

The shop owner: < looks at the TV that looks as if it has recently returned from a pleasure trip down the holey Vesuvius > WHAT THE F*CK HAPPENED.

TV dude: Sigh!

TV dude: Sigh!

TV dude: Sigh!

TV dude: < looks around, lowers voice and begins > So yesterday, the Rain Gods were heady on the sweet rain ( In Kerala, every other guy is a poet/sahityakaar and a drunk hence the build up!) As they partied in frenzy a stray thunderbolt found itself on course with my TV antenna… and added the extra zing to my Kittex Lungi Viewer’s Choice on Asianet. For a minute I thought I lost my eyesight, but slowly realized that the power had been shot. I quickly reached over to my Kajaa beedi, beside which my Ship matchbox rested. A match was struck and a candle soon found its ass on fire. ( Note: given the frequent outages, people in Kerala usually carry a candle along with their beedis ). And like an idiot I rested the lit candle atop the TV.

The shop owner: Gasp! You what???

TV dude: As soon as I let go, the candle rolled, and fell into the TV through the slots in the back!

The shop owner quickly looks to see the slots and retorted.

The shop owner: But, these are so thin…

TV dude: So was the candle… (Mallu logic… brillyend eh?)

TV dude:
(continuing) the candle didn’t go out I guess … then the TV set started smouldering…. And then….

The shop keeper: And then…

TV dude: my wife quickly got some water and poured it over the flames to stop the fire!

The shop keeper:
YOU BLASTED MORON! It’s a TV…not a haystack…

TV dude:
thankfully the fire stopped, otherwise my whole house would have gone up poof!

The shop keeper:
I don’t think, anyone could repair it after…

TV dude (continuing to continue): Then after a while the power was restored.

… We then switched the TV on to see whether it was working or not…

The shop keeper: Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!

TV dude: Power went out again, short circuit maybe, and TV burned while I searched for candle…but we didn’t pour water again, but smothered it with a thick blanket instead!

(As the near comatose electronics dude hit the ground)
TV dude: could you repair the set please???

Kerala celebrated yet another bandh that day, and somewhere, as an electronics repair guy was being haunted by the ghost of a TV, that underwent excruciating trials of the order (Fire, Water and Electrocution) that it made Schindler’s List look like Baby’s Day Out!

So now that I am back from the jungles of Ulan Bator, after successfully marketing a Web2.0 product under extreme secrecy, not to mention not having any means of communicating with the human kind, let alone blogging,  I will continue to impart… knowledge and bullshit alike!

For starters,  here is something that I came up with in Jan. With little to document it, I hunted down a crocodile in Feb. Skinned and sukhofied the skin by early March. And then painstaking wrote down the poetry over March end, with bamboo shoots as a pen, and blood as ink!!! <BTW, My team mates reported a mysteriously high loss of RBCs, WBCs and platelets after their return, from the jungles of Ulan Bator>

Read on…

BlackOut
Sometimes it is easier to write,
Because you don’t know what to write about.
And then you just type in random sentences,
And rhyme it up, to check them out.

Then ideas begin to come and go,
Like waves on the shore;
You suddenly feel the rise in tide,
And decide you want to write some more.

You delve deeper into randomness,
And try to give it a structure;
But then you let go and relax,
Lest your cerebral nerves might rupture.

You try and seek continuity,
Post that… you try to see a theme.
You lose them both instantaneously,
And begin to hear your mind scream.

You don’t stop, you carry on,
Just to see where this would take you;
But then you already know that it ain’t gonna be no ‘R+J’,
Neither a ‘Macbeth’, nor ‘Taming the Shrew’.

You realize you might be losing the meter.
But you say …chill.. it’s all fine!
But most definitely your lines are somewhat all the more longer now,
Especially this stanza …third line.

This had to be the limit I guess,
Toss has gone all that was poetry;
And then I get into deeper mess,
As nothing seems to rhyme with poetry…but poetry!

I see that I’m already word-count 850+,
With all ’em stacked and arranged a b a b,
I then do a self-congratulatory jiggedy jig jig,
and sing a hi-power 120 dB  doo bee doo bee!

Then I stop, think, listen to Floyd, get ‘inspired’,
And ‘feel’ that this poem and I are like two souls.
Hmmm…Now let’s see, how do I put it…
Perhaps…like two lost souls swimmin’ in a fish bowl!

A final look up into the Webster’s,
A proof read and a spell check,
30 mistakes corrected…plenty overlooked,
I decided that this’s how the poem ends… what the heck!

The profundity of my thoughts, brought tears to my eye,
I wondered why I never thought about writing professionally before!
I saw flashing bulbs, gleaming cars, money and dames,
Nobel and the Booker once again hitting the Indian shore.

“I had always wanted to write something…
Something that would change the world”
Said I to my publisher-to-be, with pride,
He smiled, then he read, then his head swirled.

I wonder why he fainted;
I don’t know why his secretary cried;
I wonder why she called in the ambulance and security,
Plain jealous…I surmised!

The world didn’t change,
But some unplanned things swiftly got on ahead,
Changes to my physiological details were one,
The second… the time I had before I was to be dead.