VAAT IS YOU-VUR PROBLUM ?

You know it’s not fair when the world flinches upon hearing a Malayali in his uber awesome accent. I mean come on people, we account for at least a decent 60% of India’s humour! And what amazes me even more is how the Malayalis react to the ridicule. Trust me on this one… they are not such good sports when they are the epicenter of mockery. Though usually they are harmless but you will definitely get some bombastic comebacks that will lead you to the hospital with a hurting tummy (due to the laughing of course!) I don’t intend to hurt any feelings here, so before a Mallu sentiment gets hurt, I would like to disclose that I’m a Malayali myself. And before any of you Malayalis reading this start pounding me with coconuts and run me over with one of your pet elephants for betraying my clan, my only advice will be to take it all in good humour.

The age of the santa-banta jokes is so passé. I think it’s the era of Lola Kutty now. One reason being that the maximum a Malayali can hurt you is by picking up his Mundu (Lungi) in style and tucking it like a skirt and exposing his hairy legs (sometimes even the striped boxer shorts) to the shock of the onlooker and leave him completely scandalized. And if he gets really mad he can even fold up his shirt sleeves to expose dangerously hairy arms and head butt you to leave an imprint of the coconut oil on your brand new white shirt. But otherwise they are pretty docile creatures in comparison to the hot headed sardars who don’t receive jokes very well. It’s high time we moved down south to the land of coconuts and banana chips for some more fun. I feel so proud when I get to hear songs sung in praise of mallus especially “Hotel Keralafonia” and “I am a Malayali”. Finally all the joblessness from the perpetual “Hadtaals” in Mallu land has given birth to some productive humour. But it’s not just the accent that cracks people up. It’s their sheer laziness in naming their kids these days. They might be good at fishing for good jobs in “Gellf” but not for good names!

Shakespeare didn’t know Malayalam. But he sure did believe in what an average Malayali believes –Vaat is in a name? I am sure we all have come across Malayalis named Biju, Soju, Kinju, Pinju, Seejo, Teepee, Potee etc. Before we exchange some of the most interesting names that I have come across, let us analyze why these Keralites resort to such torture.

Not long ago, Keralites had a habit of pre-fixing their name with their villages’ name, their mother’s name and their house name. That made for names like: Pilavulakandi Thekkeparambil Usha (that is PT Usha), Kallatu Kothakery Kamini George (luckily she is not famous), and Vallamattam Muvattupuzha Nisha Santosh. I could go on naming them…but I am not able to. All children born till the late 70s were forced to carry such long names. The fact that they were all sleeping when the naming ceremony was going on made them feel helpless. As years rolled by, the children-with-long-names grew up and decided to give really short names to their children. Names like Biji, Saji, Mini, Betsy etc. You could say it was a revenge over their parents…but today we are forced to live with such names. Sometimes there names are so short that their nicknames become longer than their actual names. And this is not an exaggeration. Nicknames could vary from MaalluKutty to Kuttoos or even Kuttappa. I once knew a person called Baby. I guess his folks never imagined he could grow up one day. You could try not embarrassing yourself by mispronouncing their names by not venturing anywhere near them but that idea nearly fails when you realize that Malayalis are “Blady” everywhere! So all one can do now is just enjoy their presence, laugh behind their backs and soak up every bit of humour they can offer before they all migrate to the Gellf !

Photocopied days!

It’s been quite a while since monotony has taken full control over my life and turned it into what can only be called a comical tragedy of choices. Not that I’m the adventurous sorts or would go doing wild things just to live on the edge, but I never mind a little unexpectedness or adventure once in a while. Sadly, that hasn’t happened in quite a while and I feel like a cog in a wheel that never stops.

Starting work at six in the morning doesn’t sound that pleasant. Does it? Well let me affirm that thought for you. It is not! Especially when the mornings are cold and the air around you is at its best to make you sleep. Your eyelids are bearing the weight of dreamless nights and just won’t open. I get out of my bed, with my eyes closed, and figure my way to the bathroom. Heavy metal grunge playing through my head while I’m shivering in the chill of a cold winter morning Brrrrrr. If you ever want to jump start your day early in the morning, just splash your sleepy unprepared face with icy cold water and it’ll scare the daylights out of your dull head. But I call it self inflicted suffering. So, finally, that I’m awake, irritated and shocked early in the morning, the music in my head gets louder and the first facial expression for the day is a disgusting frown looking back at me in the mirror! My alter ego hates me at this time of the day. It takes some time to settle matters with her and repair that awful frown on the face till I’m staring back at what cannot be called a pleasant morning face but definitely a less aggressive one. My head still droops with sleep clogged in my brain. I pull myself through the rooms and drag my body that is the heaviest at this time of the day to fix myself a kick of caffeine. Honestly, coffee never wakes me up, but it’s just for the satisfaction that “At least I’m trying to wake up!” that I treat myself to a cup of coffee.

The hot steaming cup in my hand is like a radar guiding me to my computer. FUMP! I fall into my chair and stare at the machine. Widen my eyes a couple of times. The voices in my head telling me to go to sleep. Click! I start the machine. While it takes its own sweet time to start, I stare at the goosebumps on my arm. It’s cold. I need a jacket or something. Ah! too lazy! So I just sit there feeling cold and waiting for the machine to start. Waiting… waiting…waitiiiiiiiing! God! This stupid thing is slow! But you know, I always thought machines are way smarter than humans. They understand every emotion around them. It is like they sense the air around themselves and function accordingly! OK! I might be sounding like a total nut case right now, but yes I talk to machines. Crazy as it sounds, it WORKS! I pat the mouse a little. Put on a smile. And fold my hands before the machine, praying for it to start soon… and Voila! It does.

I want to start work right away. It’s 6.15 A.M. The sun has just started peeking. So I start off my music player. With respect to my beliefs that machines are really smart, my media player is always playing a shuffled playlist. And it manages to sense the “Air” around and plays exactly what I want to hear. My day starts with Collin Hay’s “Overkill”. Well! that manages to bring a true smile to my face. I love machines! They are better than dogs, babies or even boyfriends! I open the boring documents and start off typing like a brainless freak. Thinking how have I managed to change the world by doing this mindless work. But then the world doesn’t need me to change it. It does that work pretty well all by itself. All I want right now is the money that this mindless work is giving me at the convenience of sitting at home. Yes! I’m a freelance editor with a leading publishing house. I don’t have to bother with the nerve wrecking commutes, or the morning decision making riots of what to wear or which asshole I have to avoid during the day at work while I sit in a depressing cubicle limiting my life to the three walls. Instead I sit at home, comfortable and cosy doing my work any way I want to. But being a human, satisfaction doesn’t come that easy, does it? The comforts turning each day into a Xerox copy of another gets on to you. It’s like a vicious circle. The constant thought of how was my today different from yesterday irking you to break free.

That’s when it dawns upon me. I’m living a vacation. And I need a break from this holiday. I check out sites for a quick getaway. An escape. A moksha. A vacation from my circle of life.

No Time

The mirror tells me I’m still the same

Same as I was a second back

It’s hung there for a year or so

But it’s the same as it was a year back.

There’s no time, no time at all

No summer. No winter. No fall.

Can’t remember if I had a wrinkle a month back

The photos tell me… but the mirror just laughs

The present can’t trap what’s gone

It’s only the past that clings on.

The ant just lost a fragment of its life

as I stare at it for an hour.

But it walked almost a mile

While I sit sour.

Who would know the years

If the sun never sets down

Take off the past masking your fears

Smirk at that clock, turn time around.

There’s no time, no time at all

No summer. No winter. No Fall.

Counting seconds will make you lose an hour

Every morning you wait for night

And your bread tastes bland

‘Coz the last supper wasn’t right.

The monsoons you remember for the tears u wept

But forgot the spring that made you laugh.

What’s gone left a trail behind

And reduced your life to half.

There’s no time, no time at all

No summer. No winter. No fall.

The Ghost of Montockshire

He got up from his muddy bed

to find his favourite flowers wilting next to him.

Taking a whiff of the midnight air

for once he could smell the moonlight so dim.

He stood up on his dead feet

to find his pain all gone

The silence groped him

now, that he was all alone.

Realising he didn’t blink for so long,

he did it… just to feel human.

He breathed once more

to colour his skin so ashen.

No longing could hurt him now.

No wishes he wanted fulfilled.

Absence meant nothing to him,

for every desire in his dead heart was killed.

He knew not where he belonged.

He had forgotten the desires he longed.

“Was he happy?” was a doubtful thought,

since sad he definitely was not!

The wind cooed in his ears

The wild dogs howled out to him

He smelt life around himself,

but no scent of the same within.

Roamed the town aimlessly

in the chilly air of Montockshire.

Not a shadow did he cast on earth,

nor did his eerie attire.

Breezing past a hobo asleep on the pavement,

disturbing not a soul dead or alive.

Peace engulfed his every step,

since no sound could he revive.

The moon silvered his way

to show him some light.

But failed to show a similar soul

in his world of black and white.

Squeezing through the walls and the locked gates,

he knew not what to believe in.

Sight, smell and touch betrayed his senses

He fought a silent battle he could not win.

The sun never showed up on his face

It is always night in his eyes

Without choices he walks the lanes of Montockshire,

waiting to touch the sunrise

The wind whispers to him throughout

Since his journey has no end

The world of black and white will colour his life

In this town of Montockshire his death he will spend.

A Wonderful Time

Its such a wonderful time

When people do care

But it sometimes gives a fright

When you care to scare

How you care what Thomas is upto

In the middle of the night

And you even care for Bob

Who owed you and got out of sight!

Its such a wonderful time

When people do care

But it sometimes gives a fright

When you care to scare

Now why does Farah

stay all alone?

But when Ricki went over to her

You ran to the phone.

As you very well know

Wally got rich too soon.

You never cared before

But now you are best friends too.

Its such a wonderful time

When people do care

But it sometimes gives a fright

When you care to scare