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funnyboy
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Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

 

-Maya Angelou

 
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Afterwards

I shouldnt start with a cliched sentence, and I havent, so here goes : breakups are hard. The funny thing is when you're in a relationship, you tend to dwell on whats not working out. And when you're out of it, you remember every nice gesture, every little thing that made you happy and you wonder if you've made a mistake. I converse amicably with my ex, and sometimes I miss the conversations and the affection. Conversation is easier now that we are not intimate. As it still is today, there were long silences in our dialogue when we did not have anything to say or were just not interested. The mind alters perception and opinion easily. However, the gaps in conversation are not uncomfortable and I wonder at times if we couldnt reconcile our differences.

The repair period is gradually understanding that what did not work in a relationship will not work even if you're out of it. Keeping in touch is not going to change all the things that went wrong.

 
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Rule # 1

Note to self:

If you did not learn it the first time, get the fucking point: STAY OUT OF OTHER PEOPLE'S RELATIONSHIP PROBLEMS

 
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Ah

We sit in a room of fire, a million square holes in the wall, not a void but merging to form a ripple first, then a wave and a raging fire of blackness, and a chilly warmth, the vision is warmth, we believe what we see, what we're told. We want to be told, tell me

The background my love, I see synchronisation now. Everything is beautiful in context, in place, the electric poles against construction work, the red net fencing against the football field, the telephone booth in front of the restaurant, the trees are alone, the sky is alone, we are in civilization, we are living in a constructed chaos of pianos against a passive audience, a plunging body lost in the waterfall. Bungee jump into the steel blue, security in extentions

Chariots against a full moon sky, a soft plump hand reaches out to rub the moon, it crumbles, her fingers smell, the moon drips, it is goop, its erotic, its new, its not anything she has tasted, she wants more, she needs more, rich thick creamy liquid between her fingers, it could be anything, she feels it between her legs, she wants more, she needs to be enthralled, she screams into her pillow, naked and fierce, a broken headboard, sore palms, a new relief, she discovers masturbation at the age of 9. A lifetime ahead of you baby, enjoy the sensation, the newness, the wetness..

Sensuality, play with me..

 
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Get there faster !

Yesterday was my birthday. My friends threw a birthday party for me. I was miserable, and this morning I woke up to see the infection had caught on. I looked through greetings and messages and I saw how lucky I was. To be in the here and now. To have good people fighting to keep me alive. Isnt that crazy ? Or is a wonderful situation difficult to understand ?

 
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Died of intoxication; Alsations start feeding

I miss you, never thought I would. Maybe its because I dont have money temporarily. Maybe its sensible conversation. Maybe its the 'other half' component.

 
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Silver green leaves

When I was walking home this morning, I noticed the traffic. I think and stare a lot, because I am preoccupied. I noticed the traffic because it was a blur. 

When I was washing an apple, I noticed patches of grey on the counter. I see faded colours these days, unless its blood red on white or new blue denims.

When I was short of money, I thought about '10 years down the line'. I talk to 38 year old guys who still love rugby and beer.

When I was high, I imagined harming my friends, sometimes with a gun, sometimes with 'cold bare hands'. I realise I have never thrown a tantrum.

When I think of my parents, I have mixed feelings. Its the same with ex-boyfriends. I would like to remember the good times and keep in touch.

When I sit down on my bed to brood, I listen to music and then dance torso upwards. I dont feel like reading anymore. I dont want to blog.

I want to run, with new denims that dont need suspenders. I want to scream in the rain, slip and scrape my palm, bleed and grin. I want a trampoline beside a huge swimming pool, with a Bloody Mary waiting. I want to do a one year foundation course in theatre at LAMDA. I want to travel the world in 80 days with friends. I want passion and rage, anger and sincerity, I want people to explode, bumper cars to crash, 100 ft splash into steel blue water. I want to smoke a joint as I walk from the library to the labs and I want to smoke em with security guards.

Fuck yeah.


 
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Celebrity Feared Dead

David Schwimmer, noted TV actor, was in London opening for a play he co-directed with Martha Kauffman. While Kauffman returned early, co-star of FRIENDS, Lisa Kudrow is worried that she has not heard from Schwimmer yet.

"I am a little jittery. Its not like David to take public transport, but after Daniel (Pearl), Im worried that all my friends may be jinxed by Al-Qaeda terrorist attacks"

Quite a bold statement from Kudrow who is among the many celebrities to condemn the terrorist organisation. Schiwmmer who turns 39 sometime this month, is a model figure for all Jewish female fans between the ages of 30-35. When the 9/11 bombings happened, fellow Jew Woody Allen and Schwimmer rushed to the tragic-stricken area to comb the debris of any Jewish remains. It was found to their mixed surprise and delight that there were no Jews in both the buildings at the time.

Sean Penn and George W. Bush Jr. have voiced their disgust against 'evil-doers' emphatically. Don Cruz (some names, on request have been changed to protect identity)who is amongst one of the powerful actors of our generation has said that terrorists should convert their hateful energy into creative good. He has offered to do a TV broadcast about the healing effect of Scientology and how one can still act brash and abusive in movies, while pursuing peace outside the celluloid world.

This reporter thinks every friggin member of the British parliament is a wuss who cannot take responsibility and is reminded of a shoddy organisation in Brisbane called Griffin University.

 
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Cripes

There is something that disturbs me, and the more I think about it, the more I agree that I might be in the wrong. And 1 1/2 years have passed me by in a foreign country with apparent damage and nothing learned.

Some say it is the place. I dont know. I think its the weed.

 
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Colour me bad
How dark do you want your dark and handsome stranger to be ?
 
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Heard of  True.com ? Are we compatible ? Can you handle a long-distance relationship ?

This site is awesome because once you register it screens you for a criminal record and marial status. Unfortunately it has a fee. But why not, to ensure you find your soul mate.

 
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Help!

I need to get a job and then save up just enough for a plane ticket to Polynesia. Or some island with lots of people with no ambition.

And this is the main reason I used to beg for siblings.

 
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Song Flogging

When I listen to this song, I know I need to play it low. I get a headache from having heard it so many times. Listened to it so many times, that I have a love-hate-relationship with it.

Wtf is the relationship, mate ?

I cant remove it from my list. Its also because I felt it would be biting the hand that fed, you know, it kept me floating during bad times. Thats the thing with the first songs Ive been with. They'd say I used them, pushed against them with Myear, and then ignored them when the new ones got released. 'Gratitude' they would sing to the tune of 'Attitude'.  

I learnt soon enough with the new tunes. I got tired of the nagging. I hold the earphones close enough to rub them with Myear. That keeps them going without talking. Constant reassurance, thats what they need. The insecurity I cannot understand. Some faith in thy self. And hell, dont be clingy ! Cant tell them that though and not fear for Myear. The thing with new tunes is that they're manufactured a-plenty. They have nothing new to sing. They decorate themselves therefore with visuals. Dont make the mistake I did. When you're young, that's all you're looking for - novelty. Advice: go with the ones that say the least.

Mypupils, down boy, down. Ok, gotta go. Dad switched on the T.V.

 
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Stocktaking

A friend left this for me, as her suicide note :

Sore eyes. High chair. Loose bra strap. Stinky bin. Faulty air conditioner (grammatically incorrect; should be an air cooler instead). Overflowing bin. Stolen phone. Good samaritan resigns. Fruitfly embedded in pizza. Daft subtitles for Indian movie on SBS. University sends probation letter. Eviction notice. Low bank balance. Geriatric mo phone. Parents. Boyfriend trouble (hate the first word); my friends turning atheist; 'Hope' or 'God' replaced by 'booze' and 'shag' as buzzwords. Return of housemates who were friends. Accomodation uncertain. 300$ for broken window. Dismissed courage. Dull to acquaintances. Expensive plays. Bitch Judy. Dead grandmother. Successful delivery, #...?. Hunger. Nationalism replaces idealism. Looming arranged marriage. Right shoe loses sole. Bills. Probably HIV+.

 

Im dead whether I am infected or not.

***

Poor kid, and they still dont see why it was a good move.

 
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Tribute

She coughed and called out to the maid, "Sarsu !? That girl, I might as well pay myself her wages!," as she stirred the lime rice for lunch. I was sitting around doing nothing, especially because she has asked me to chop the beans. I couldnt understand why my cousin couldnt help. It was his lunch too. Instead he was allowed to watch The Mahabharatha, while I had to be a 'girl'.

My grandmother resented she was not the head of the family it is in Kerala. Be it in health or education, my grandfather showed her up. "Who reads three books a day ? He sits there waiting to be called for lunch, like he is the newly-wed of this house!" My mother, though hardworking is not as sharp as my uncle, and thus not the apple of her eye. My uncle, placid and unaware of his potential gave up his IIT education and read like my grandfather, till his spine gave away. He is now bed-ridden.

She loves her plants and a long time ago, in menopausal weariness, vowed to Lord Ganesha that she would leave my grandad alone to woo his books whilst she sought the company of her plants. It is in this way, that most of us in this house were not allowed pets, and grew up attached to inanimate objects like violins or basketball. Those plants in the garden, after a while, earned her the title of 'A.J.  Ammachi' (Amazon Jungle Granny). She spoke to each of them everyday, and to her trusted friends, the ones she left behind in Aden, who came to visit her every year, she gifted them Impatience stems.

My grandmother liked the bad guys in the Mahabharatha, the ones who molested Draupadi, the wife of the good guys. This isnt because she has no morals or is even attaching any to these characters. For her, religiosity on TV was soap opera. She liked the actors who played the bad guys. She especially liked the ones with moustache. A Keralite obsession. Most of our men have walrus whiskers. Except my grandfather, who is cleanshaven and has a weak chin like a saipu.

One day she went to Varkey's alone, the only mall in this sleepy city, founded by the enterprising Varkey and Sons who were the first, after Vasco Da Gama to bring foreign goods into Calicut. This store owing to its indispensability had 57 steps ascending to heaven. With no rails. Obviously Barky and Bums put their parents in an old-age home. As she began climbing, she started thinking about me working as a cleaner in Australia, and lost her footing and fell down the stairs.

My grandmother died this morning. My grandfather who had a stiff upper lip, which could be seen, grew a moustache and now looks like Rudyard Kipling. My uncle has started watering the plants, and frequently talks to them about metalurgy and the science thriving due to the demand of gold jewellery in the Gulf. My mother painted a picture of Lord Ganesha, which was cremated with her mother. Sarsu made a straw doll with grouchy eyebrows and standing akimbo, which she kept on the dining table. My cousin was informed. And as for me, I dedicate this journal to her, Maker of lime rice, Wooer of Gardenia, Unstiffer...

Glossary:

The Mahabharatha : One of two most famous religious epics of India, and is a literary and spiritual text akin to the Bible. One of the versions made for television in 1990, glamourized the epic in costume and sets.

IIT : Autonomous institute in India, internationally recognised for its excellence in higher training, research and development in science, engineering and technology.

Lord Ganesha : One of the most popular deities of Hinduism, He is the God of Knowledge and Remover of obstacles.

Saipu: In Malayalam this word refers to the white man.  It is a corruption of the Hindi word 'Sahib,' meaning 'master' or 'lord' ; addressed to Europeans who invaded India in the 17th C.

Vasco Da Gama : Portuguese explorer of the 15th C. Though well-recieved in the beginning, Da Gama's interference in Calicut's trade caused resentment.

Calicut : One of the commercial capitals of Kerala; has an international airport.

Indispensability : I just made the word up, mate.

 
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Misty Minka : My Nawty Quotes

"I am provoked to snuff it.My parents can finally use the spare room."


"So the mistake was born on the 22nd and my father started his first affair on the 23rd."


"Ah yes, marriage, from the Latin word to stay faithful, twice."


"I think I discovered a hidden talent in pornography. I like to think I am the philosophical garbage guy."


"My mum and I compete for the same guys: she likes guys her age, and I like em ripe."


"My parents are beneath it all, not happy"


"Have you seen Malayali porn ? No ? A lot of rubbing and running and clashing. All this without being in the same scene together"


"My parents ? Hell ya, they're proud of their only child writing, acting, directing and producing 47 movies per year. My mother made my dad get a vasectomy in celebration of the first release."


"Love inspite of being scorned by the burnt ones, is a beautiful feeling. I felt all those cliches, like walking on Cloud 9, and the tips of my fingers hurting."


"Love is for the idealists. All the rockets and thunderbolts are in sex. After that, its pfft like a disillusioned fart."


"My parents were Bohos. They went boohoo when I was born. And then they started listening to Lobo."


"Who's that boy ? Tell him he had me at first **** "

 

"You are MALE, which explains why you are jumbled up and LAME"


IMDB refuses to acknowledge this personality as a Hollywood celebrity. Dont ask. We have too many autographs stuck up our asses.




 
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Depp is Deep

I saw Oprah's interview with Johnny Depp. I think he is really intense, and he shows quite a lot of promise to be philosophical if given a chance to think. But before that, stupid Oprah moved onto Kate (of Winslet fame).

I loved that quotable quote of his, er quote "The term 'serious actor' is kind of an oxymoron, isn't it? [Like] 'Republican party' [or] 'airplane food.'" close quote. This quote underlines the quirky, shy-humoured side that I love Depp for, which forms the foundation for the instinct with which he chooses his movies and continues to surprise fans and critics alike.

I wanted to pound this geeky friend of mine the other day. She thinks he wouldnt be right for the role of Willy Wonka. Ok, all of you know who Willy Wonka is, rrrrright ? I mean, who doesnt know about gobblestoppers ? Maybe some of you should have forsaken trashy juvenillia that caused the dumbing down of your intellectuals. Enid Blyton being one. After what is happening in this world, we should introduce children to stories with a wicked sense of humour like Roald Darl's.

Anyway, this girl thought Rupert Everett is a 'cinch' for the role. I burst out laughing. Might I say, quaint English punctuated with Latin is not vox pop anymore. Excusing that, we are not encouraging alternative lifestyles or even interpreting or might I say, misinterpreting Wonka's single status. Depp has an energy that few can see. He might not be the wild maniacal Carey, whom I might say should act with a certain dignity that would suit him well in his aging years; the word is eccentricity, as exemplified in 'Pirate of the Silicon Valley.'

 
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Simple..look for the signs !
I was cleaning Level A today. I think they name these levels according to the people that frequent them. Girls with some fine asses, total a-holes whistling at them, and then aggravating geriatrics who have to stick to the bottom most level because going up the escalator could give them a heart attack.

I dont know why people would stick to the food court. I mean, is life about eating your way through it ? Like a cabbage leaf worm. There is a comic book store on Level 1, which stands for the stage most people strive for. Its the easiest of course. There might not be escalators. But you have your eyes. They should see an arrow pointing to the service lifts. Take the backdoor, idiot.

I dont get how food makes you obligated to the provider. I mean, I am not one of those snivelling, snot-nosed idiots in straw huts. These guys have to throw away their food, and instead I am taking it ! I mean, these are leftovers dude, I better get it for free. The other day, these girls at the pizza place were complaining that all the Philipino cleaners were free-loaders. Like thats a statement on their country. I would like to ask these fuckers if they know the difference between China and Korea.


These people like to say sorry a lot as well. What I would like to know is, why apologise when you are, leaving your footprints on my wet floor or throwing a half-empty Coke can into an overflowing bin ? I did say it once as well. Got shifted to the docks, where all the rubbish is processed.

A lot of politics. I mean I know politics is heavily concerned with relationships. But not the other way around. See what I mean ? Some of these security guards are a bunch of slackers. On the walkie-talkie, which they call a radio, which I dont understand, because you cant talk to a radio AND get a reply, unless you're calling in. Anyway, these guys sound real official when they're on the radio, but filthy-mouthed motherfuckers when they're off it. I think, I know your daughter man. And then I think, oh hang on, no wonder I dont know your wife.

I think a lot of these things when Im mopping, you know. Manual labour, it really makes you think.

I blame my mother though. Wasted my life with education. Made me learn when it rained in the U.A.E, or if chameleons have 360 degrees vision. About that, I dont see how you can have vision when your eyeball turns 360 fucking degrees. Your pupil has to go into the socket sometime, right ?
 
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?

I run like a cartoon. A well drawn cartoon from the Wachowski brothers. My expression of exhaustion like curtain drapes, my neck flung to the side like I fell down the stairs, exhaustion and spit fly, three on each side, the third one fighting friction to fall.

 

I stop suddenly. My face crashes into stillness, my jaw, my teeth, my nose are pushed to a single side, and I spit blood. The sight of their cartoon getting self-destructive makes them want to reduce my pain. Blood fights resistance to fall profusely.

 

They reward me for my determination by placing a twirly bladed sword underneath me. Suddenly speactators. My grief, self-loathing and tendency for self mutilation are in the arena. As they cheer, I am impaled, and the breaking of skin, ribs and organs is heard as loud as their cheering. Now sympathy and then empathy. Some day we would like to die comfortably. And then a skilled bowsman shoots a hundred arrows just before I fall. A bed for the wounded.

 

I write this as I lay stretched out on my bed. With spectators. I dont mind. If my blog is not for the public, it is for well-wishers.

Half-hearted gimmicky attempt, I swell with pride. I feel healthier already.

 
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Once Upon a Time in Calicut

In honour of Rohinton Mistry and the little people in his books...

In a seedy hospital, with patients resting under bunk beds, where cobwebs and cockroaches were minimised according to the payment made on each room, there lodged a couple in this hole who found love for the second time.

This was in Calicut, famous for its halwas and banana chips. Shivaraj and Lakshmi hovered everyday around the string of stalls which mushroomed during  the temple ulsavam. They always chose the one that had the strongest aroma emanating. They drooled and wept that they could not afford these nationally famous pastries, that rich fat NRI women fed their pot-bellied husbands back in the Gulf.

 

One day, Aadu Geetha, nicknamed so because she used to tend goats, now residing in Thoobai after marrying into money, bumped into Shivaraj who had wandered into the posher stalls. Geetha laughed courteously remembering the times she took care of their grandson, who always had to shit near a flowerpot. All of Lakshmi's employers were neighbours who competetively sowed exotic plant seeds sent to them by their children in the US. They did not take kindly to Sidhu who thought he was doing them a favour by providing them with fresh manure.

Geetha felt moved by experiencing this Indian vibrancy that she had missed. Gas Nathoor walked by, wishing the two of them. Said he had lost his job at the construction company, because his flatulence made one of the labourers drop a brick on the boss's head. They said he was lucky he wasnt charged with the medical bill.

Gas asked about Lakshmi, and Shivaraj said she was watering the plants at Dr. Gangadharan's house. Sensing resentment in his tone, Gas looked at Geetha, who nervously joked that Shivaraj had been bitten by the green bug. Does he think it is the Venus Fly Trap that will gobble up Lakshmi and he will lose her forever? Sensing she had delivered a joke beyond their comprehension, Geetha began to laugh genuinely. Shivaraj's eyes filled up suddenly, making Gas hold his stomach. Shivaraj did not want the aromatic air to get polluted, so he checked himself. To no avail.

Damodaran, on his cycle, stopped to jibe Gas, and said he should lend a hand at Baygon's factory in Alapuzha. But not in the department manufacturing the odourless pesticides, ha ha ha! And then because no one asked, he volunteered to tell them that he was going to Kolamakelle hospital because a lady from

around here had been hospitalised with a rare disease.

Shivaraj, who couldnt hold his breath anymore said he would hitch a ride with Damu. Geetha, now hungry for more of Calicut's street stories, said she would follow them in an auto. Gas Nathoor shrugged. He might be illiterate, but he wasnt stupid. He understood the reason behind the sudden dispersal, and parted his bum crack to unleash a silent fart. It turned out to be odourless, and Gas was so delighted, he started walking back to the construction site, hoping the mason would give him a second chance after a whiff of this scentless sensation.

They reached the hospital to see a gathering. Someone at the back of the crowd told them that a woman was spotted rushing from Indira Gandhi Road, with green tipped fingers, and then fainted at the gates to the hospital. Suddenly feeling bile rising in his throat, Shivaraj pushed his way through to find Lakshmi

unconscious on the ground.Why hadnt these sons of dogs called the paramedics ? In a fit of trembling rage, he shouted, "May your insensitivity crumble when your own mothers are licking the feet of Kama!"
Suddenly a wiseacre jeered, "Yes, he might shoot arrows into our hearts and send throbbing pain to our dingle dangles!"
Everyone laughed and hooted.
Shivaraj clenched his fist at the error : Yama was the God of Death, not Kama, the God of Love.

An attendant was laughing at the scene, when Geetha's auto had swerved around the crowd and stopped at Lakshmi's feet. She shouted to the attendant to shut his silly mouth and do his job. He walked silently to Lakshmi whilst making a note of the auto's number plate. Union leader Rajesh would be able to worm out the address of this fascist bitch from the driver.Somebody had thrown up in the reception area, and the

cleaners came out with brooms that still had dry yellow bits trapped in its bristles from a previous clean-up.

When they had finished, the room emanated a strong smell of disinfectant and vomit. Lakshmi woke up feeling nauseous, and puked on the attendant's feet, who was seeing red and Rajesh. He ordered the stretcher to be put down, and said he would not take another step until Geetha admitted she was conspiring against him.

Kumaran saw his son, and remembered the boy's youth, when he had forbidden him from playing with the coloured chickens in the neighbouring compound. He had slapped him, and in defiance the boy had not only climbed over the gate and played with those diseased birds, but also brought back a chicken with

him. In his weariness, he strode over to his son, whom he had gotten a job in a hospital after much begging to the higher authorities, and here he was, refusing to do his duty because a patient was too ill.Nearby he saw a plastic bag that had caught under a door. He walked upto his son, knelt down and started scooping the vomit with his hand.
 
Lakshmi with help from Shivaraj got off her stretcher, and signalled that both of them help the old man. Geetha wondered at the Indian vibrancy. It was this kind of affection for grime and dirt that she was glad was absent in the Gulf. Hesitantly she bent down to help, but Lakshmi's old hand stood out firm and

unshakeable, like Krishna's palm, in the Mahabharatha, when it spun out endless yards of sari to clothe Draupadi. There was deadly silence. Everyone was frozen with the message of the

scene conveyed.

This was their burden. They had seen it happening to their friends and their employers. Geetha felt left out. She couldnt stand with the attendant because first of all, he disgusted her, and she was atleast 15 years his senior. The attendant looked on nonchalantly. Tonight his father would be back to ask for more money for kallu. It was a vicious circle. Did this Maharani from Dubai think this was The Great Indian Circus ? And he laughed. He did like his imagination.

Through the crack in the door, Dr. Gangadharan was watching a horrible scene in the reception. Without wasting a second, he ordered that the patient be given a 5 star room, on the second floor. There would be a lift to that floor, and they were to be assured that 'Dr.Gang and jingbang' , he joked wearily would take care of them, all hospital bills covered. Shivaraj, with tears in his eyes, blessed the doctor, and spat at his feet to keep away ill omen. Dr. Gang stepped back in fright and then smiled in relief.

Damu started talking excitedly as they went up the lift, saying this was how it must be on a plane, only it went higher than 3 floors. Shivaraj patted him, still in awe of their good luck. Geetha smiled. Even the attendant sighed.

The 5 star room had cobwebs, a loose toilet seat, and a dusty floor. Still, it was a suite compared to the rest of the rooms in the hospital. Lakshmi laid down, took a deep breath, and looked up at Geetha. She knew their family. How many goats they had sold to be slaughtered by those butchers. She remembered trying to console a wailing Geetha in her kitchen. It happened every year, on the third day of the festival. Finally as all children do, she got accustomed. But she never kept a pet again.

Lakshmi looked at her green tipped fingers. She smiled expecting Shivaraj had thought that the colour of the leaves had come off. He did have illogical fears at times. The truth was that she was dying. She saw it in Dr. Gangadharan's eyes. She had tended to those plants ever since he was concieved in his mother's womb. Now to think those hands that had lovingly hosed those plants with a gentle spray, making the Ventula win in the 'Most Well-looked After Garden Plant' category at the flower show for three years in running against Mrs. Hussain's orchids, should be amputated. Well, she thought, I might as well be dying, if my hands will not serve me anymore.

When the nurse came in with a syringe, she buzzed for the doctor, and everyone else to step outside. Shivaraj insisted he stayed with her, in case the doctor tried any hanky panky with her. She laughed saying the doctor was old enough to be her grandson. Gas Nathoor walked in relieved to find healthy people who could listen to his meeting with the mason. The nurse wrinkled her nose as soon as he entered. He smelt as if he had an indigestion of hot pakoras. Like he had eaten them straight out of the cooking oil fifteen minutes ago. Not that body odour was harmful, but for her own sake, she decided that on grounds of hygiene, Gas be removed.

The heavens had intended a number to be added to India's population explosion, and it was in this way that Nurse Bincy Baeb Eappen met eyes with Gas Nathoor aka Tariq Faizal Kutty. In that long and lingering stare that ensued, the clock stopped working, and she understood that he had been spared

circumcision, and he saw that her breasts were as round as the pakoras he had eaten on his way to the hospital. They were the biggest he had seen. And what a cheap price they came at.

Damu said slyly that Gas needed a new outlet for his creative juices to get flowing, and to get going before he dried up. The clock started ticking again, and Nurse walked out of the room, fingering the door knob before leaving. Gas left the room hurriedly, not before Damu noticed a rising bump on Gas's lower body and started sniggering.

(to be continued..)

 
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