"Spell"ing mistake

The other day, I tried to cook. That is what I always do - try. I was lazy as usual and my wallet was dried up, which meant I could not order home delivery or fill petrol and drive to a hotel. Why could I not walk to a nearby shop and buy noodles? Good question. Refer to sentence number 2 in this paragraph - "I was lazy as usual".

Small flashback: A few days ago, as part of my mission to bleed my wallet dry, I had decided to "invest" in what looked like a short cut to cooking side dishes - Maggi Bhuna Masala. I read the wordings on the pack and decided that this was the ultimate solution to all my cooking problems.(I am one of those girls who will fall off the radar of elderly couples looking for prospective brides for their sons or nephews. I prefer eating to cooking. I appreciate the effort taken by the cook. I don't like to take the effort myself.) Side dishes? Jujubee...!!!

(Now, we are back to "The other day")

After a lot of excercise to the cauliflower like thing in my head that is commonly referred to as the brain, the poor thing decided that it could take no more. So it said - "Take the idea and enjoy! Jee boom bah! Remember Maggi Bhuna Masala!"

I was excited. I jumped up and took the pack out of the fridge. The pack said that I just needed that masala and some vegetables. I checked the fridge again. Tomatos. I checked above the fridge. Onions. Hmm. That is enough, I thought. I got busy. I cut the "vegetables" and attempted to do whatever the instructions asked me to do. I added a generous helping of Bhuna Masala(more than the quantity specified in the instructions). Finally after a lot of mixing and smoke, I got a feeling of job satisfaction. I turned off the gas and decided to taste my preparation with dosai. Yes, dosai.

Uhm..I am not going to say how it felt to eat it. I can just tell you that it made me rush to the Masala pack to check what on earth it contained. There it was. In a corner. It said the pack was equivalent to 250 grams of onions and tomatoes. #facepalm

Whenever mom cooks, it is as if she says "Abracadabra!" and the food becomes yummy. When I cook, I think I pronounce it wrong. Maybe I say "Avada Kedavra!" and the taste dies.

Good,Bad and Ugly

Good - I am a strict officer when it comes to rules. Rules are meant to be followed, and I follow them(most of the time). Not so long ago, I had Chemical engineering lab exam at college. There was something wrong with the indicator. The batches before mine had "completed" the titration. Actually, they did not. I knew it. They knew it. The professors knew it. I was the only one to report it. The professors gave me time to consult with my friends and threw around hints that I would lose marks if I did not complete it. I repeated the entire experiment and also summarised the procedure 3 times to the grumpy professors. That was not going to change the indicator's mind. Or the professors'. A girl who could not assort to cheating even in a lab exam is not fit to be an engineer, they thought. So they decided to teach me a lesson for "wasting their time". They let me go and retained my marks with them. I let them have it. What if I did not get "S" grade? Mere paas "A" hai.

Bad - My grandmother used to adhere to the rules of "madi" until a few years ago. Nowadays her health condition has restricted her to her bed. The rule was that I could not touch her or lie down on her lap until she lighted the lamps in the pooja room at 6 in the evening. Whenever she tried to forcefeed me, scold me or when she would not let me sample the dough for "arisi appalam", I shamelessy resorted to blackmail - "Thottuduven paatima!" (I'll touch you, granny). It worked like a charm, every single time.

Ugly - I hate it when people quote rules to suit their needs.

Elephant's time

Me: Hi X, I need permission for an hour in the evening (and I quote some valid reason - refer Good).

X(My superior at work): You clock y hours of labour, and we bill the customer. So you will have to work for y hours. Who will cover for you during your absence in case some issue comes up?

Me: I will complete all my work before I leave. ABC will cover for me. You can also call me in case of an emergency. (Mind voice: Last week you said there is no raise since there is no new work coming in. Now you are talking about issues. EKSI)

After 1 hour - X could not come up with any other excuse, so:

X(My superior at work): Ok fine.

Cat's time

X(My superior at work): Soundarya, can you please work this weekend? We need to do blah blah blah...(read boring stuff)

Like I once mentioned, weekend work is tough.

Me: No, I don't think I will be able to... (The ellipsis is a powerful chat strategem for euphimism.)

X(My superior at work): Ok, can you help now, by staying back late?

My mind voice to X: Check your calender, it's Friday. Not fry-your-employee's-day.

Me: I have completed the y hours of labour that I clock, X. Will I be allowed to clock more hours? Will I be given permission to take off for the duration that I will work now?

I continue typing

X(My superior at work): No Soundarya, please carry on, we can manage it on Monday.

Me: Oh ok X, bye!

You want to talk about rules? I can talk rules, walk rules, and now I can laugh rules. Hee Hee! :P

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"Train" of thought

We barge into a psychiatric treatment session. We know its rude, but then, we are rude. We are polite in a way - we don't get in when the doctor mentions a number in the proximity of the patient's age during hypnosis - she is a woman. Now, we don't know her exact age. That is enough.

"...You are now 10 years old...what do you remember?"

(Yes, the doctor looks like Nasser in Anniyan)

"Meena...Meena"

(kutti papa thangachi? la lee laa loo..?)

"Who is Meena?"

"That....She was the mean one"

(Yeah..meena...mean...go on...)

"My deskmate at school in 5th standard. Always crossed the line on the desk. We always had nudging wars at class. One of her two plaits used to always cross the boundary that we drew with a scale and ink pen on our desk.Bah!"

"Go on"

"That is when I decided, I will claim whatever is mine and irritate all the "mean"as in the world. That would be my mission"

"So that is why you had a screaming fight with the lady on the train?"

"Yes. It was my berth. So what if it was only 5 PM? The lower berth was mine. It was my right to lie down whenever I wanted to."

"But that lady had a reserved seat there. People generally take the berth only after 9 PM."

"So what? The berth was mine. And she was mean. I had a mission"

"How do you know she was mean?"

"Oh she confessed. I heard her talking on the phone. She said 'I mean..'..."

(Wow. So, childhood problem. hmm)

Doc breaks into a sweat. We find the exit before she wakes up.

Note: I was reminded of the desk wars at school recently, thanks to a big fight on the train in the AC compartment. It was almost as if somebody had strangled or molested the lady(now in the psychiatrist's chair in my blog post). I furtively watched the proceedings. I never went that that way while getting off the train. No, not even when the wash basin on the other end had a queue. I am paavam, so I actually had nothing to fear. You know what "I mean"? oops!

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The Balanc(e)ing act

"Can he see me behind the door?"

My heart flutters...or rather...beats frantically against my rib cage, in an attempt to jump off and run away from the danger. I try to shake my brain out of its frenzy of unfathomable fear. No use. My mental(!) faculties are frozen, much like the funds for anything that incurs expense, in my office.

I try to summon up atleast vestiges of the "strong independant woman" in me. Apparently she had made her strategic exit long ago. I suspect this was due to the heavy exposure to 24x7 news channels and their incessant stories about how some corrupt XXX got anticipatory bail.

I try to reinforce the prowess of my extremely theist alter ego. I sqeeze my eyes and "let go". Then I remember the moral of the fable I had read when I was in first standard A section - "God helps those who help themselves". Totally unrelated, but I can't help wondering, why would I need God's help if I can help myself?

The idea(no, not the one Bachchan Junior recommends) dawns on me but I am not in a position to shout "Eureka!". HE might hear me. I can hear HIM pacing to and fro.

I frantically open my bag and fish out my mobile. I scroll down my contact list and find the number. I press down my finger on the green call symbol and listen. I hear a voice. God does exist.

But wait. No. no no no no NOOOO!

"Dear customer, please note that your account balance is low. Kindly recharge to enjoy continued service...blah blah blah"

Me - "?@#$% whaaa?...what? Owww!! ok its over...its over"

Au contraire....

"Anbulla vaadikkaiyaalare...."

Me - "HayoooooOOOO!!!"

I am supremely irritated and do the worst. The worst has happened. I feel as strong as Popeye stuffed with Spinach. I open the gate and let it swing as if I am Rajni in ApoorvaRaagangal.

I am ready. I can face HIM. I don't care. I say, "Come on! It is either you or me. I have braces on my teeth. They can rip you apart, you four legged canine! Caamaan talk me!"

Disclaimer: This post is just for fun. If there is any truth in it, it lies in the part about my apprehension about going near dogs and yes, the automated aunty's voice on the telephone. I respect dogs. I love them in pictures.

Father magan

A guy has "the talk" with his dad, after he finishes his studies. His dad finds out that all his son wants to do is flirting. This is just an imaginary conversation between father and son, with lines picked off from Thevar Magan...just for fun.

Note: Some of Sivaji's dialogues have been used for the son. This conversation is not a direct mapping of the movie dialogues like Sivaji's dialogues --> Father Kamal's dialogues --> son.

Father: ama...idu namma oorku prayosanama irkum la...

Son: namakku prayosanama irkum...

Father: seri...idellam epdi inge pannuve? unaku ida pathi lam theryuma?

Son: illa ayya adu namma oorla panra idea ve illa...Chennai Bangalore Hyderabad...madri edathula...like a chain of restaurants...(he is talking about possible locations)

Father: tamizh tamizh...

Son: Anda ithum baingale...idu..

Father: enna da adu? (So this fellow intends to go off and have fun leaving me in this forlorn village? huh!)

Son: ayya kovathula ededo pesureeyale...

Father: ipdi pesi pesiye dan oru kayya kondutu poitainga...

After a pause

Father: Ingaye irappa...naalu perukku edo nalladu seyyappa nu sonnen...apdye enakum oru vela potu kudu...

guy:(horrified) padhaaraadenga ayya...

Father looks at oor makkal - another bunch of guys like his son.

Father: (Realises that his son is definitely not going to include him in his gallivanting spree and gives up) Ida parunga da...inime ivaru dan ungaluku ellam...ivar solra madriye seyyunga...

Father walks away in a huff, accompanied by baritone voices singing the praise of Father's forefathers, in the background, while his son sighs in relief.