It's difficult to write for children. Trust me, it is. I don't know what hit me this morning but I just thought of writing a bedtime-story-for-tiny-tots kind of story - and for the world of me, I couldn't! You know the ones with animals and far away kingdoms, with a moral at the end of each story - no siree, not me. We've gotten so entrenched in our everyday life and it's reality that it takes a huge effort from our side to imagine a completely different life and time (where animals talk, carpets fly and Gods have a weird sense of humor), and make an interesting story out of it without our sarcasms, without any judgemental lines, just pure entertainment and a lesson-learnt message at the end. (And that was a really long sentence I just wrote! What's wrong with me?!!)
Nevertheless, I'm going to try -
Let's do it one at a time then - first my characters: I need - at least one monkey to act all goofy - the fun part. He might also become my hero in the last chapter - a prince and a princess for all the mushiness - two peacocks 'coz they're so beautiful to hang around with - a herd of elephants, so the princess and the **cough** prince won't feel she's fat - one donkey to make fun of...er..fool of, too - some doves to denote love and peace and all that crap - a flying carpet (I love 'em!) - an elf who makes shoes at night (sounds familiar? just keep quiet will ya?) - one nasty villian who keeps saying 'Mogambo khush hua' everytime something happens. The good part is, his name won't be Mogambo. Muahahahaaa! - an old witch with straggly white hair, no teeth and sitting at a spinning wheel. (Yeah yeah, I've read Sleeping Beauty, so?)
Now for the story line: I dont want a love story. I dont want a villain-kills-parents-so-take-hero-takes-revenge story. I want something fun. **thinking**
Ok..thought enough..here goes...
Once upon a time in a far off land, there lived a monkey. He was a happy monkey, doing monkey things, eating monkey food and living with other monkeys. He lived in a forest near a big kingdom ruled by a young prince. He cannot be called king yet 'coz 'king' doesn't quite sound as romantic as 'prince'. So he was a prince. And he was handsome. And unmarried. And in a nearby kingdom lived a beautiful princess who was conveniently ruling over her kingdom in the absence of her parents who had died 10 years ago. (Author's note: I don't need to parents and parents-in-law - too much complication, keep it simple.)
The prince used to correspond with the princess regularly using her doves and his peacocks. The peacocks couldn't fly very well, but they helped by bribing the donkey to carry the message to the princess. In return, the peacocks used to hang out with the donkey thereby making him look cool among other donkeys. All was well with the two little kingdoms with their love stories, animals and other people.
But one day, there came a man at the door of the prince. He was shabbily dressed, hair unkempt and looked emaciated. (Author's note: Kids should learn new words). He had a curved stick in his hand, much like what Moses was carrying in the animated 'Prince of Egypt' movie and a rolled up bundle under his arm. The rule at the prince's palace was to welcome any guest and treat them well. So the ministers and the others took the man inside, cleaned him, clothed him and gave him food to eat. But all the while, the man never let go of his stick and bundle. This made the Prime Minister get very suspicious about the contents of the bundle. So before leaving for the night, the PM kept a window open in the room given to the man. He would come a bit later in the night and see for himself.
The royal clock struck 12. Actually, the tiny guard moving the gong struck 12. All was quiet and silent at the royal palace. The Prime Minister, dressed as a common man, came to the window of the man's room and peeped in. It was dark inside, the candles were not lit. Once his eyes got adjusted to the darkness, the PM saw a very strange scene. He stood rooted to the ground and watched the macabre unfold in front of his eyes.
And thereby hangs my tale... will get back to it in my next post.
I used to think I was good at English spelling. Until I saw the 2006 National Spelling Bee contest. 90% of the words, I couldn't even pronounce, leave alone spell! The kids taking part were no older than 14 or 15 and my god, they were amazing! And I still, for the world of me, don't know how they could spell a word that's pronounced 'sittacism' correctly as 'psittacism' (the silent 'p'!!!). I'm guessing there are some rules for the way words are spelt based on their language of origin and the phonetics. The only other explanation can be that these kids have a dictionary-loaded microchip embedded in their brains that lets them do all this. The first seems more plausible, doesn't it?
The words were amazing too. I haven't come across these words in my Oxford dictionary (that I used to read a dictionary for time-pass is a totally different story), but I have a feeling if I go back and check now, I might just find them **shrugs**. I'm glad GRE doesn't test on spelling. I had trouble with the words even otherwise. I also had trouble with the analytical and quantitative sections, but that's beside the point anyway.
The contest was won by a 13-yr old who got her last word, 'ursprache', right. When I first heard the word, I thought this is it, she's finished. Well, she proved me wrong (like a lot of people do so very often). To see the other words that she got right: Click here
I was really in awe of all the participants in the contest. I know it takes a lot of hard work to get there and I'm happy for them and their proud parents. For an English fan like me, more specifically for a person who goes to Dictionary.com at least 20 times a day - this was absolutely mindboggling.
So, here starts my quest to learn how to spell. Better late than never, no?
Oh, BTW, I got 2 words right: 'izzat' and 'kundalini' - they had a Hindi and Sanskrit origin you see. ;-)
Scene: Busy traffic junction. Vehicles whooshing past red lights. In other words, a typical Indian traffic signal junction. It would be suicidal to even BE on the roads.
A well-dressed guy (by the looks, a software engineer) holding the hand of a really old lady (by the looks, a poor beggar) and taking her across the road on a zebra crossing. Took her the whole way to the other side and then crossed back to catch a cab/auto to his workplace.
I don't know who he is. But whoever he is, he did a really really cool thing.
To you, stranger-who-helped-an-old-lady-cross-the-road: Way to go, dude! It could be a trivial thing for you, but it would've meant a lot to that old lady. You probably saved her life by helping her out on that road today. And I know she would've blessed you with all her heart. And that is one of the best kind of blessings you can ever hope to get. Feel proud. And blessed.
Humanity is still around, you know. It's not completely wiped out. Yet.
I'm tired of this template for my blog. So me going to make some changes.
If you find queer things or misplaced things or a completely messed up place, please adjust! I'm not that dumb usually, but it happens sometimes. Like a great soul once said, some people have the ability to mess up anything and everything. I know that person was definitely talkin' about me.
So do come back after a while - at least to tell me if my new template can stay or not.
P.S: If, even after a week, you find the same template, blame Garfield. Seriously, that cat is having a very very bad influence on good girls like me. It's as if being lazy is the latest fad or somethin'! **shakes head** It's hopeless, I tell you.
P.P.S: Long P.S eh? Yeah, I do things like that. **shrugs**
Live Update: So far so good. I could do better with the title. Looks downright crappy. Oh BTW, from now on, site best viewed on resolution 800x600 and above. Like it matters! :-P
Update 2: Check out my new Calvin and Hobbes font for the page header!!!! Awesome! I love it. :-)
Update 3: Ok, I've done something wrong. That much I know. Wanna see something weird? Click on 'Comments' and see the crazy sized font that appears! Or you could click on something in 'Calvins Desk' and see the old template show up! Yikes! Man, I got work to do... oh, just found another one - check out the really old posts around March 2006 - resolution does matter you know, I take back what I said in Update 1. **shoulders slumped**
Update 4: Hopefully this is the final update. :-) I've done what I could. I'm thinking of outsourcing the acceptance/unit/system testing to you, my dear readers! So please feel free to break my page ;-) Any comments/suggestions most welcome (for once!). You think I should increase the font size for the posts? I don't want to be the reason why you had to start wearing spectacles you know. :-
English teacher walks in. Goes straight to the blackboard, picks up a piece of chalk and writes a word on the board. 'Rendezvous'. Turns around and asks the class, 'Now, who can tell me how this word is pronounced and what it means?'
Teacher smiled and shook his head. 'Lemme give you a hint - it's french'. Silence. Embarassed smiles all over the place. We hate it when we miss a chance to go one up on our teachers, don't we?
Our teacher walked up to the board, underlined the word twice and said, 'It's pronounced 'rondehvu'. The 'z' and 's' are silent, and 'ren' is pronounced 'ron'. Now, any guesses to what it means?'. For a class that didn't even know how to pronounce the word, expecting them to know its meaning was a very optimistic expectation from our English teacher. Silence.
'It means a meeting. A pre-arranged meeting.'. Nods all over. 'Ok, now where were we on the lesson yesterday?'.
30 minutes later, 'Homework for the day. Find me a word for words that imitate sounds. Clue? It starts with an 'O''.
I ran to the library during the break to get hold of a dictionary (Google was not around those days, you see). Looked for 'O'. Hit pay dirt in no time. Onomatopoeia.
I never forgot 'rendezvous' and 'onomatopoeia' after that day. Even after hundreds of new and old words entering and leaving my active/passive vocabulary, these 2 stayed. It's amazing how these kinda things happen, right?
It's been an awesome journey so far, discovering words - a word a day! And there's enough left to last me a lifetime (if not more).
Oh, did you know there is a word to describe the smell of earth just before it rains or just after a light drizzle (man vasanai, in Tamil)? Petrichor. I can almost smell earth when I say that word. Silly me, eh? ;-)
I'm happy for Italy :-) I'll always have a special place in my heart for this amazingly beautiful country and its people. And a well deserved win against France. I wanted to see Zidane repeat his 1998 magic, but the jerk went and got himself red-carded in the last match of his career. But man, that head-butt! Materazzi wouldn't have known what hit him! Reminded one of Figo in a not-so-long-ago match against Holland - some people are lucky to escape. Some are not. It just wasn't Zidane's day.
I am, however, glad the FIFA World Cup is over - I'm literally tired of keeping awake till 3 in the morning to see 22 guys run around chasing a ball. It was fun when it was around, but now that it's over - I have to admit, it IS a relief.
Most importantly - anyone else feel like breaking the TV when the HDFC Life Insurance Ad song 'Naa sar jukha hai kabhi' plays whenever the World Cup matches are on? I SO HATE THAT STUPID SONG!!!!!!!!!!!
He had always hated his name. Such a commonplace, old fashioned name. He sometimes felt his parents did that to him on purpose. Why would they want to name their only son that?! He cringed when someone called him by his name - he so preferred his nickname, Sonny. He wished he could change the name in the attendance register at school. He was tired of all the jokes.
He hated the day his parents named him Hari.
More than that, he hated the day Naukri.com released the advertisement with Hari Sadu.
I'm watching 'Narasimham' for the 11th time. Totally enjoying it. There will be a 12th. And if I had my way with the TV, there will be a 50 or a 100 too.
P.S: Did you know Wiki has an entry for Narasimham? **smug** Kollaam, mone dinesha, kollam! :-)
Email forward. Pathetic, I know. But it was too good to resist! So here goes...
Author of this piece, whoever you are - Way Cool! :-)
I had eighteen bottles of whiskey in my cellar and was told by my wife that I had a drinking problem, and to empty the contents of each and every bottle down the sink, or else. I said I would and proceeded with the unpleasant task.
I withdrew the cork from the first bottle and poured the contents down the sink with the exception of one glass, which I drank.
I then withdrew the cork from the second bottle and did likewise with it, with the exception of one glass, which I drank.
I then withdrew the cork from the third bottle and poured the whiskey down the sink which I drank.
I pulled the cork from the fourth bottle down the sink and poured the bottle down the glass, which I drank.
I pulled the bottle from the cork of the next and drank one sink out of it, and threw the rest down the glass.
I pulled the sink out of the next glass and poured the cork down the bottle. Then I corked the sink with the glass, bottled the drink and drank the pour.
When I had everything emptied, I steadied the house with one hand, counted the glasses, corks, bottles, and sinks with the other, which were twenty-nine, and as the houses came by I counted them again, and finally I had all the houses in one bottle, which I drank.
I'm not under the affluence of incohol as some thinkle peep I am. I'm not half as thunk as you might drink. I fool so feelish I don't know who is me, and the drunker I stand here, the longer I get.
She didn't understand why there were so many people milling around outside her house. Was something wrong? Oh God, was there a robbery? She rushed inside. They had broken open the door and she could see the tools still lying about. Did that mean they caught the thieves red-handed? There wasn't much of jewellery or cash in the house, she knew that. Since her husband was flying abroad, they had kept it in the bank locker a week back. What remained at home were the electronic items. Strangely, the items in the hall were untouched. The DVD player was right there, so was her cellphone, the cordless phone, some silver curios in the huge glass showcase - surely, these would have been stolen first! Something didn't feel right.
She saw the police officers standing inside the master bedroom. She went inside and found them discussing about something in the bathroom - the tub, specifically. There was no light inside and they were using torchlights. She felt movements behind her and turned - 2 orderlies were carrying a stretcher into the room. They took the stretcher inside the bathroom. Now wait just one minute!, thought she. Why would they need a stretcher if it was a case of theft? Unless...unless someone was hurt! But the lack of urgency on the orderlies' part didn't attest to that. Which can only mean one thing - someone had been hurt. Fatally.
They brought the stretcher out after a few minutes. A figure, draped in a white bedsheet. No, it cannot be! It cannot be! Her screams were caught in her throat. She felt faint and swooned. She held on to the wall for support and tried to erase the memory of what she had just witnessed. She sank to her feet and the tears started running. She closed her eyes and sobbed.
She remembered then, how it had happened. She'd just taken a relaxing bath and stepped out of the tub. Since the floor was wet, she had slipped and had caught on to the first thing near her to steady herself. It wasn't enough. She couldn't control her skid and fell - her head hit the tub. She remembered seeing blood on her fingers where she had touched her head. And then, blackness.
And then she remembered standing outside her house, wondering why there were so many people around.
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