Monday, May 4, 2009


Only humans know how to procrastinate.

Other animals are too dumb to worry about doing what they are good at.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Gender Bias

Once upon a time, Early one morning, in 2nd year

Professor: Good Morning Class!
Class: ZZZzzzzz
Professor: Today we shall be dealing with the Pharmacology and Pharmacodynamics of Alcohol
Class: blah
Professor: But before we get into anything technical, let us ask ourselves, why we start drinking, you boy there stand up…

Boy1: Uh… Out of the curiosity and peer pressure sir
Professor: Next
Boy2: I don’t know sir
Professor: NEXT!
Boy3: Sir we drink alcohol for Pharmacological Purposes sir, such as CNS neuronal depression, microvascular and gastric vasodilatation, respiratory stimulation, gastric stimulation and sir diuresis.
Professor: (looks depressed) Ok. This side of the class? (points to some girls)
Girl1 (Gao1): Far Enjayying!!
Girl2 (Friend of Girl1): Far Keeeeck!
Girl3: (has hangover)
Professor: That's better.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

When my id yanked my chain on Eid about...

What makes me gape in wonder at this show every time?? Its just an animation. A chimera. More insultingly, its just a silly cartoon.

But it’s much more than that.

Phineas & Ferb is a new cartoon released earlier this year that shows on Disney, it was nominated for the Emmys soon after its release. It is the first Disney Channel Original Series to premiere simultaneously worldwide and an army of creative people have dedicated their lives to make it happen.

The episodes are mathematical and voluptuous in its creative content. What is the formula? and how are the variables so amazing? in the context of the constants in the formula? How does it all click? I had to sit and think about all this because my id was constantly yanking my chain... yanking... yanking...yanking...yanking...yanking...yanking... (you get it)

There is a clear outline in every episode, like in a drawing. It captivates your interest, if you are someone/anyone who possesses the spirit to sit and observe with a manic curiosity.

Every episode has three parts:
A hyper-creative often unreal but plausible-to-the-imaginative, fantastic main scenario focusing on Phineas and Ferb- (the plot). The quality of the episode is set into the quality of the plot. A minor scenario involving a jealous, complaining teenage sister Candace and her friends – (the antiplot). The third section which is called - more pivotal than the plot even, is also the funniest section of the show in which the pet platypus (perry the platypus) pits himself against a funny but evil scientist, when the characters are too busy with the plot and the antiplot to notice, the platypus transforms into a secret agent (agent P) and disappears to his hideout to involve himself in my favourite section of the show, engaging with an unbearably hideously hilarious mad scientist to stop him from destroying the whole of the tri-state area with an always ingeniously wacky plan which always involves a cool ingenious machine named a something-inator, this section is more pivotal than the plot even, because the clash between the platypus and his nemesis (who are secretly in love with each other) is structured geniusfully to tie up all the loose ends on the plot and the anti-plot of the show by making that which is designed to destroy the tri-state trigger the destruction of the plot and antiplot, to make everything unbelievable and fantastic that has been created in the plot to magically disappear in a flash, everytime to the disbelief of Candace, before she can bust her brothers by revealing their cool insanity to her mother.

How neatly yet unobviously the characters just slip into their respective places, in a clearly defined and interesting blueprint of an appealing equation (cycle of events), which the architect has so carefully crafted and religiously preserved in each and every episode before retailing it into a neat package, and yet lent unlimited variety to all the constants of that package in countless episodes is a testimony to the work of a manipulative genius. The psychology behind each character is sound, detailed, tangible and appealingly applied. The plots are unbelievable, yet well thought out and no matter how out of hand the situation gets, there are never any questionable loose ends at the end of a show because of the sheer genius from the mind that is a bottomless pit of originality that designed the more pivotal than the plot even section.

The most beautiful part to it - Despite there being so much logic behind its making, at face value there is little or no scope for rationale because you would have to leave that outside the room to appreciate the show and this adds to the appeal of the cartoon architect’s equation because it brings out the child in you and it’s this good feeling that sells to any human being and discredits a big chunk of the critics most creditable tool.

What attracts me to this cartoon:
Childish sentimentality. It’s a cartoon of me.

Phineas Flynn - Phineas is an intelligent, creative boy inspired to make the summer as great as it can be by coming up with ideas for unusual, exciting, and sometimes impossible activities. He is very polite and is never selfish or rude to anyone. Phineas is also shown to have a wide array of musical abilities and can play many different instruments. His stepbrother Ferb is his best friend and partner in their activities. He loves his sister Candace, and often tries to please or help her, as in putting her face on Mount Rushmore for her birthday, making her treehouse better, or helping her learn how to drive. However, he usually and accidently upsets her with his schemes. He has a normal relationship with his mom and his step-dad. He often wonders about the whereabouts of his pet platypus Perry.

Tell me you are twenty!!!!! Grow up!!! And my id will gracefully show you his finger.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

The Sperm:

Splotch! I splashed and wiggled like wild through the slushy pond,
Only one of us gets to lunch tomorrow, My lunch is larger than Vermont.

Monday, August 11, 2008

The Firecracker:

I Burst into a Zillion Stars, Into the Painted Skies.

An eccentric Spark, vacated the flock and
to Paradise!

My saner sons, stun to stone, at the mere sight of water.

This one just took the plunge.
His life was good, but shorter.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Dragonfly In The Sky

Where are you. Get over here fast. The whole batch is waiting outside the exam hall. You are the only one who is not. The Head of the Department has been calling your name out for the last ten minutes.

Insanity. I am not supposed to be there, the Forensic Medicine HoD told me in no uncertain terms yesterday evening that I cant take that practical exam today at any cost whether or not I have the valid medical documents to validate my absence for the last two weeks.

I haven’t studied. . . a word! I am not even at home, I am in the middle of my lunch. It will take me atleast twenty minutes to reach home and get ready even if I get up right away and leave my lunch midway. The exam was supposed to start at 2:00, its 2:10 already. It will be 2:30-2:40 by the time I get there.

Hey don’t worry. Nothing will happen. You better get over here asap for your own good. I will teach you whatever I can (cuts the line)

I got up and paid for the meal I never had, dived on my bike. The rest of my journey to the apartment is urban legend. It was a red bullet, not a mobike, shooting through the peaceful streets looking for an obstacle or pig to ricochet on.

The computer was on, Atlantis- The Lost Empire paused at its climax. I laughed to myself as I wore my white coat and combed my hair neatly because when I stared at the mirror the guy looked totally alien to the situation. Sure he looked like any bloody doctor, like it was his birthright to stare back at me and smile like there was no crisis happening even in the hour of doom. This, is not abnormal, unnatural or fake. In medicine this is what you do, quite naturally.

In human physiology, there is a component that protects us during emergency, a neuro- endocrine reflex that triggers the brain to brace your mind and body for impact. But that is after all theory. I had to pray at the dressing table, it was an appeal for a miracle in an absurd situation.

I feel no hypocrisy in protecting my faith despite diving into a scientific environment. Nor do I belong to the rigid Brahmin family that forces religion down your gut, my parents have allowed me to explore and derive my own faith and inspirations from life and experience. They are flexible enough, to let me convert to a different religion tomorrow if I want.

The ride to the exam would have provoked death even in his most euphoric trance. I didn’t die but an accident happened on the way. My tires screamed near the stationery shop because even they couldn’t believe that in the mad rush to reach an exam that started twenty minutes ago, I had left the most basic tools to pass an exam on my study table.

I reached the exam hall at 2:35. Thirty Five minutes after scheduled commencement. My batchmates were still in the corridor. Unbelievable.

Instead of giving me the usual screw you stare, Rangarajan smirked at me and told me to go back home because he had told the HoD that I was in Bangalore, that I wont be sitting for the internal. I didn’t care to believe him, I laughed at him, when I walked into the exam hall and met the HoD. I believed him.

My father’s letter was lying on the table, next to the Chief. The seal was open “Baa Baa Rajakumara (Come Come Prince) Time yenu? Pardon, neevella dod dod schoolinda barthiralla? English medium. Tell me what shall we do with people like you? We have to wait? . . Make special trunk call to Bangalore to get appointment to make you to come and write exam?”

“Sorry sir. Yesterday when I showed you the medical certificates you. . .”

“Idiot fellows. Maathadbeda (Don’t talk). . . This will be your last and final warning okay? Eeginda classella bunk aagbaardu. Get Out.”

During our friendly chat I was contemplating telling him that I didn’t know anything. But that would have been a terribly wrong move. All the bones we were supposed to analyze had been neatly arranged on the granite ledge that bordered around the exam hall against cards with our roll numbers, two bones per number. My number was not far from where he was sitting. I had no choice. I took a peek at my bones while he was busy lecturing me. Skull and Sacrum.

The voice, that had summoned me to this hellhole experience was Mahi's. Sushen and he came over, we shook hands, he gave me a reassuring smile.

“We still have time, the attender told me it will start at 3:00. We have almost 20 minutes. I’ll teach you everything you’ll need to know.”

What Mahi and Sushen did with that time was paranormal. 35 logical explanation points for the skull in a systematic visual order, highlighting the presence/absence of these features in their own skulls. They proceeded in a systematic spatial sequence that I will never forget. First they started from above and traversed downwards - the parietal and frontal eminences, forehead, globella, orbits, orbital fissures, frontonasal curvatures, nasal apertures.etc proceeding downwards unto the mental foramen. Then from the midline laterally, from the cheekbones, zygomatic process to the mastoid and finally to the base of the skull, which contain many foramina and eminences. I glanced through a couple of diagrams. The skull was the more complicated bone so we gave it more time. The sacrum was smaller, easier to deal with so we gave it barely 5 minutes. Time was very tight. I didn’t even have time to contemplate the extent or repercussions of a possible failure. I walked into the exam hall still digesting features of the sacrum. I stepped to my seat, before they even announced the instructions I started vomiting everything I had stuffed down my throat, carefully in sequence, in the prettiest handwriting possible. I wrote all the features of my skull with side headings underlined in black against the blue writing. Each bone was for 5 marks, we had to write 10 points with diagrams. Unaware of the instructions initially, I had populated three pages with 25 points, when they finally announced the instructions it was too late, so I decided to further overkill with 3 diagrams of the bone, in different views, anterior, lateral and basal that I had studied in anatomy last year.

The Sacrum is a much simpler bone, easier to analyze than the skull. I wrote whatever I could remember from 15 minutes back. Drew some diagrams and faced the mouth of the Dragon.

The ‘mouth of the Dragon’ is the person who took my viva. He belches fire while asking a question. A clever façade, a defense mechanism to being taken for granted by students and staff – He will give you marks if he feels you have written your answers well and answered his questions satisfactorily, confidently yet humbly. Otherwise he will mercilessly fail you with disgraceful marks, no matter what. Many brilliant students unwittingly carry auras of arrogance in his eyes and fail miserably.

He leafed through the first two pages of my skull answer and shut the answer booklet. He didn’t even bother to look at the rest of it. I might as well have not written anything about the sacrum. He asked me 5 questions, 2 of them pertained to Forensic Medicine, 3 to anatomy . From first year and 25 minutes ago I presented everything I knew pertaining to his questions. It was all over before I knew it. He asked me where I was from, asked me how many marks he should award me, marked me and let me go.
I Passed!
I couldn’t believe it. Neither did Vishwamohan: What kind of luddite attends a forensic exam without studying?

But the wiser crowd reasoned and I agree with them in that, in medicine having a deep knowledge of a minority of the ocean doesn’t count as much as having a sound, superficial knowledge of a majority of it. Nor does the quantum of your knowledge beyond the compulsory requirement count as much as your ability in convincing the other person, to get them to trust in you, no matter how hopeless the situation is.

This, is the story of how I passed a Forensic Medicine exam I didn’t know I was attending till 10 minutes after it should have actually started, with first class marks when I was still pretty non-recovered from an illness. An exam with a 40% failure rate that I attended half an hour after the scheduled start without studying a word. All complex theories apart, If, I hadn’t exercised blind faith in a moment of insanity, I wouldn't have had the strength to let things fall into place. Things would have fallen out of place. Circumstances would have turned me the other way. You wouldn't be reading this because I wouldn't be a dragonfly in the sky.
I would be swept away by the ocean.

Friday, May 16, 2008

Spider Tag

I was crawling in my Patho Lab innocently looking at slides when MM messaged me saying she had tagged me on her blog. Now, by Pig-City standards, in relativity I may be pretty current and up-to-date:I even fancy myself being envied by my peers for my gizmoic versatility and gadgetric dexterity at snakes but in absolutist virtual reality terms the truth is. . . I am a total bloody gao (translation: village). To me a tag has always been something my doggies wore on their collars for identification. Here is how my spider tag looks:


Last movie seen in a theatre:

In a theatre - You, Me and Hum- I watched it the last time I came to Bangalore. Hindi is not my usual cup of tea, but I liked it because it was a weird Bollywoody portrayal of the Medical Society beyond the hospital. I prefer watching movies in the privacy and comfort of my home with a couple of friends in Davangere or Bangalore. The last movie I saw today was Juno, I loved the way the director remorselessly tackled an American taboo and the frankness with which he undressed the flaccidity of their social structure, but somehow managed to work his way out to turn what was an ugly revelation into something beautiful.

What book are you reading?

Doctor in the Nude by Dr. Richard Gordon, British Comedy that is unbritishly unsubtle.

Favourite board game:

Life!! My apartment-mate and I played so much Chess in our first four months at Davangere that we became totally mutually predictable.

Favourite magazine:

National Geographic for its brilliant BRILLIANT images and stories.

Favourite smells:

Almond Essence, Lavender, Jasmine, Freshly brewed home Decoction, Morning Dew, I can get high with a sniff of Le Rochet, I love that perfume. Take a Fresh Lemon. Wash in cold water for a minute. Cut, sprinkle cold water on the cut pulp, squeeze. That’s my favourite smell.

Favourite sound:

PATCH-27 on the B.O.S.S with a mellow treble
The Exhaust Tone on a Pagani Zonda-F

Worst feeling in the world:

Why do you ask me these questions. . .
Amputation without anesthesia and a concurring severe myocardial infarction. When your only kid is watching through the window and yelping helplessly. . .

What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?

Run. . .

Favourite fast food place:

I don’t like fast food. I like quiet bakeries like Daily Bread

Future child’s name:

Tiny Taru

Finish this statement, “If I had a lot of money I’d…”

get greedy and rob a bank. . .

You don't want to get me started with the serious answer now. Trust me. I wrote it but it was too goshdarned long. . .So I chucked it into my long term memory.

Do you drive fast?

Yes, When I am late.

No, When I am sensible. I would like to think that I am sensible most of the time.

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?

No, but I slept with this pig once. . . Tiny Taru is a spider-pig

Storms - Cool or Scary?

I would love for a storm to happen now. . . Its quite hot.

Do you eat the stems on broccoli?

Yes. . . There are few things in this world I dislike eating.

If you could dye your hair any colour, what would be your choice?

I wouldn’t dye my hair even if it greyed or silvered.

Name all the different cities/towns you have lived in:

I have always fancied to have lived in my own world.

Favourite sports to watch:

The Winter Olympics

One nice thing about the person who sent this to you:

MM!!! She is the sweetest, munchiest kin. Very,very sensitive human being, but really sweet about it. She has loads of creative energy and when she knows she likes something she does it the best. She doesn’t mind compromising or sacrificing for a friend. I love how aware she is most of the time, It’s difficult to find self-aware people these days.

What’s under your bed?

A cut skull. (seriously). . . It wails at night when I turn off the lights and the dogs start howling in pain on the road.

Would you like to be born as yourself again?

Yes. Provided you let me remember what happened when. I would LOVE re-living it in a different frequency of thought and action. . .

Morning person or night owl?


Over easy or sunny side up?


Favourite place to relax:

Any quiet, beautiful space. I enjoy looking for these and finding them.

Favourite pie:


Favourite ice cream flavour:

The Cream and Fudge Tarantula Factory. The recipe is a well-guarded family secret for many generations. . It gives you the most ultimatest sugar high.

You pass this tag to –
Shady,Hemanth, Ajay, Felix, Borat

Of all the people you tagged this to, who’s most likely to respond first?

All the people I have tagged are capable of giving the most fantastic answers, but they are either too great or gao to bother to have their own blog and they are guys who wouldn’t have the patience to do it. So I shall happily not have any offsprings to my tag, It should suffice for me to say I am quite happy with Tiny Taru, he is a good but mutated kid, and one is enough for now.

Sunday, April 6, 2008

Shhhh....Taru is sleeping... He will see you in a few weeks

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Bangalore's Ultimate Walk

This is one of Bangalore's little jewels, five kilometers from the Tarantula home. Its has already entered the city and become a part of Bangalore. Priceless find. Surprisingly nobody seems to know about it. It is right on the main road but the entrance is so narrow, it looks like the entrance of any small coconut plantation. You can never guess that it opens up to thousands of acres of Reserve Forest area that stretches miles beyond a small imagination, you can keep walking many kilometers across Anekal right into Tamil Nadu and never realise. The beauty is so seductive. Till the tiger attacked us. We killed him with our venomously dry tarantula humor just after we entered the small forgotten unfenced perimeter of the national park. We should have carried a gun as a precaution, but my mommy has taught me that visitors shouldn't be rude. So we didn't.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Mountains in the Clouds

We had internal exams in a week, tons to read, so I forced a late nighter followed by some precious sleep, followed by… BANG, BANG, BANG!!! “OPEN THE DOOR!!!” BANG BANG BANG BANG….


His face was smashed. The shape of the pole he had crashed into had made its neat oblique complement on his face. The left side of his face….. well there was no left side left, just the skin on his forehead that had escaped the scrape, pulped flesh, clotted blood and crushed bone. The right side of his face was worse, Though the right side was absolutely untouched from the accident it will remain permanently etched in my memory. It was horrible. That paralysed expression of excruciating pain will haunt me for many years. Eyes so tightly shut that even hours after dying they have not relaxed, his teeth were clenched and tense. All his facial muscles were contracted to the maximum. Even the big hole in his skull behind his left ear hasn’t traumatized me as much as the permanency of the pain on his face.

Afooah tells me that it seems like only yesterday when she had first met Krishna, and he had told her that he was from the Bahamas and life was so good there, he was just waiting for these five years to run away so that he could get back there and practice with his father, in his hospital.

Mistakes can seem so harmless when we are unaware, till things start going wrong, till it becomes uncompensable.

Krishna , the first class-representative (C.R) of his batch was my immediate senior and was the son of the most sought-after Indian Orthopedic Surgeon in the Bahamas. On a late Saturday night, he and his friends decided to go out for a joy ride after a strenuous week of work on his new bike. Krishna’s father who had come down to Davangere two weeks back, had bought him a new bike. A Dark Blue Bajaj Pulsar 220, The most powerful of the Pulsar series. Dr. Murthy would never buy his son anything less than the best. Little did he know that two weeks later his son would, in his quest to put his ultimate bike to the ultimate test on Davangere’s roads, crash into a pole sticking its neck out into the road at 124 kmph. The boy was thrown off the bike and into the air to land on his face, on the left side, the same side that had taken the full insult of the blow with the electric pole to scrape on the road for several metres before coming to his mortal halt. All this happened in a flash, Krishna had only a few seconds to experience the horror and pain, and before he knew it, it was all over. The bike meanwhile continued to ride itself, riderless, like it was being driven by a Spirit of Death.

The next day, A large crowd had congregated outside City Central Hospital at 11.30 am - Half the Medical fraternity… Minutes later a well-dressed woman and a young girl appear from an auto. The woman walks towards the hospital, then slows down, then stops. She looks around unassumingly for a minute.
“Where is my son?” (silence) “Why are so many people standing here??” (silence) “Where is my son??”

Her face morphs into anxiety… Then, suddenly she goes hysterical


5-6 Doctors approach her. One of them says something to her.

“(blood-curdling scream) NOOOO! NOOOO!! YOU ARE LYING!!!!! YOU ARE ALL LYING TO ME!!!!”

His sister is speechless. A silent tear rolls down her cheek. She looks like a part of her has died. The doctor then tries to pacify his mother and calm her down. But in vain.

“(earth-splitting scream) STOP LYING TO ME!!! BRING ME MY SON!!!!! BRING MY SON!!!!!!! BRING MY SON TO ME NOW!!!!”

His mother's mind cannot digest her son's death. She cannot accept the truth. She will not. Her mind doesn't want her to. It knows she wont be able to survive it.


For a moment it seems like her legs cant bear the burden of the situation anymore, she sits down on the hospital floor, then faints, collapses.

I was riding back home from Padma Condiments when I saw Moose, I waved to him. What surprised me was, he didn’t wave back like he usually does, I rode next to him to meet him. His face was pale and his eyes were red and glassy. I had never seen Moose in this state, he is one of the most rugged men I have met and nothing usually bothers him or shakes him, But when he said what he said, I was so shocked that I stalled my bike.

Vishaka, Krishna’s close friend is kept in the dark for most part of the morning following the crash. But later on, one of her book-smart but not so mature batch-mates informs her- and these are the words in her sms “Hey Vsaka, hrd Krshna died in a bike crsh… Rly sry ok?”. She first doesn’t believe it because… well because that’s the amount of credibility that the informant has, but when she asks her roommate and receives a reply of silence, she gets her doubts. She asks her roommate to tell her everything, fast, after being threatened with murder her roomie ultimately spills the beans to her.

Vishaka went nuts…She really did. She ran crying from the girls hostel barefooted to City Central, to find everybody crying. Everyone was crying….His Mom, His sister, His father (who was still in India), Nurses, Doctors, Friends, Batch-mates, Ambulance driver, even strangers cried after seeing the body. Vishaka stopped talking. Her family was called and her brother came to pick her up and take her home, to Bangalore, he had his engineering sem exam the next day.

Vishaka, a brilliant student, a talented dancer and orator… She was the other first class-representative of Afooah’s batch. She and Krishna were bold politicians, No one could stand in the way of their killer attitude. Vishaka hung herself,

Vishaka’s Parents were in Chennai. Their flight was delayed by half an hour, they arrived fifteen minutes after she killed herself. She wrote a 45 page suicide booklet to explain her decision, with individual sections dedicted to each of the important people in her life. Her brother came home from his exam to find his sister hanging from the fan. Hanging, eyes and mouth wide open, in a final desparate but failed attempt to breathe one last time.

There is much praise and sympathy for Vishaka’s martyrdom in Davangere, A true love story. She had died for a true cause, she had died for love. But, During the fourth minute of asphyxia, Vishaka realised that she had made the biggest mistake of her life, and there wasn't anything she could do about it.

Afooah is shattered. Minutes before killing herself Vishaka had called her to wish her a happy birthday.

Monday, December 24, 2007

Blog Migration Announcement

Today is the Big Day! I have decided that this blog will be migrating to another URL (pronounced "url"). A lot of thought, planning and effort have gone into this, so it will most likely be a total disaster. The whole Internet could implode. By nightfall the entire industrialized world will be communicating via smoke signals.

But if it actually goes as planned, there will be a link on this site directing you to the new site. It's going to be very elegant. I have employed some top website designers, who have produced some fantastic work ;-)

Advisory to people going to the bathroom in Davangere

Be Careful..

or better still


Whatever it is, I don't consider it a small creature.

Saturday, August 11, 2007


S-H-O-C-K. Was the expression on my face as I stood outside the entrance of Padma Condiments and stared foolishly at the now empty spot where 5 minutes ago I had parked my brand new sparkling Crimson Red Pulsar 180 DTSi, The Back seat still had a fresh chalk mark from the showroom that exclaimed ‘SOLD R/-’. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. Could this be? I asked myself…is this really true?? She was gone. - Vanished into thin air in the middle of the night like Cinderella.

I kicked myself mentally in the butt for leaving someone as beautiful as her unprotected to the night – even if it was only just for a couple of minutes; I had left her unlocked and vulnerable… My complacent ignorance to the conniving night and its methods had brought me and thrown me hard into reality to painfully swallow the situation. As I swallowed (the situation, some spit) I warped from shock to disbelief to despair till I reached a cold but somehow comfortable silent mental numbness…I decided she couldn’t have gone too far After all I still had the key, she wasn’t exactly light to push with her belly FULL of delicious petrol which I had but proudly and now I felt, quite stupidly filled into the spoilt brat’s tank with almost half my month’s allowance.

Padma Condiments is a small but efficient departmental store on the corner of the 1st Cross off the Medical Hostel Road in Davangere, the only store which gives you ice cold Mountain Dew at 11.50 pm. They pay the cops to stay open after 11 (shhh). The store was very close to my batchmate and friend’s apartment building…

I had just met Pygmy Puff and our mentor Dr. Aditya Chowti (Chow) who is a House Surgeon (we call them Howzies) in Puff’s 3rd floor apartment…Chow had brought along with him a friend Dr.Hardik Choudhry, a PG in Ophthalmology … We were discussing random stuff at Puff’s place till we decided that it was getting rather late and we should leave poor Puff to his pillow, Puff is a traditional early bird…

I went down to the apartment parking lot, got onto her - my new lovely, my dad’s gift for being Nineteen and good, I started her up…I loved her sound in the parking lot, the closed space magnified and reverberated her 1-week old thunder…Happily I rode out of the gate on her back and got off her three buildings away at Padma’s to quench after laughing and babbling myself dry upstairs, not realizing that as I drank the cool sparkling Mountain Dew, I was being robbed…

I paid the old man sitting behind the cash counter in his lungi, thanked him and stepped out of the shop to my emotional bereavement… Shocked,I first traced my way back along 1st cross searching, and then along medical hostel road…no avail… I notice a shady looking boy, about 14 year old scrutinizing me from behind a grilled gate in a dark corridor housing a staircase right next to the shop.I ask him if he saw my bike… First he says he hasn’t. Then he says he saw a youth in a black t-shirt sit on it and push it downhill towards the boys hostel.It is quite possible... Someone possibly one of my friend’s idea of a practical joke.But something in me cant half believe him. It looks really suspicious doesn’t it? What is this 14 year old doing up past midnight watching from behind this dark grill gate?

I call Puff…RING RING RING RING RING RING RING “The Airtel number you have called has not replied, please try again… later”



Puff: “Ay wat the hell… its past 12”
Me: “Hey my bike's been stolen”
Puff: "Huh??!?”
Me: “Its gone!"
Puff: ..............
Me: "Hello???"
Puff: “What?”
Me: “Bike's been flicked”
Puff: "Haha Yeah right!!”
Puff: !........
Puff: “Ok then. Hold on I'll be down in a minute”

Minutes later Dr. Chow and Puff on Chow’s Aquamarine Blue Karizma and Dr.Hardik on his Black Splendor emerge from the apartment gate and stop in front of me…Puff’s eyes look puffy…Chow’s eyes look chewy… Dr.Hardik’s eyes look hard into mine “where did you park it?”…”There” I point, ”Where is it?”…”Gone” I say…”you left the key in it?”….”No.i just left the handle unlocked” I cant hide the guilt in my voice…we notice three middle aged men standing at the grilled gate with the boy now…Chow decides to question them

Dr.Hardik and I follow the shady boy’s instruction and go downhill Medical Hostel Road to first check the UG boys hostel parking lot….Hundreds of bikes…Yet none of them a spanking new Crimson Red Pulsar 180 DTSi…
We check and recheck and re-recheck all the bikes…nope….
We check the PG men’s hostel parking lot…..nope….
We comb each and every one of the 12 crosses of MCC ‘B’ Block adjoining the medical hostel road slowly…there are so many places a bike can be hidden…..nope again…
We try continuing further downhill on medical hostel road till the end where we see 2 autos…I approach the 1st auto driver and ask him if he saw someone pushing a red bike…he says he saw someone pushing it uphill!!! His breath smells of alcohol…

Dr.Hardik is finally at his wits end….its well past 1.30 am . “Lets go to the police” he says…SUICIDE!! Everyone knows the Davangere Police especially at odd hours are as crooked as the thieves who stole whatever they stole in the first place…. First they’ll extract cash from you, then information about you, then SOME MORE cash from you…Then only if they feel there is enough cash at the end of all that they may actually move and do something, and if they actually do something right and find it ,they will want EVEN MORE cash before they show it to you. Even if what they show BELONGS TO YOU they will want SOME MORE cash to give it to you…Some of my hostel mates have had bad experiences.

I explain this to Dr.Hardik…He reasons that it would be cheaper paying the cops 500 rupees 4 times, than paying auto everyday for the next four-and-a-half years…I slowly agree,…we see Chow and Puff approaching…we all head back up the hostel road towards the police station…
“Do you have the registration papers” Dr.H asks, I don’t reply…I just realized to my horror that I haven’t even learnt the registration number of my one week old bike yet and it is gone….

We cross the boys hostel at a good speed and approach the Padma Condiment cross, following Chow’s lead we cross Padma condiments, the 3 men are still there at the grilled gate…We cross them and approach the Main Road where we should turn left to head towards the police station…All of a sudden Dr.Hardik swerves to the right to avoid Chow…Chow had suddenly stopped in front of us before the main road and turned back…Dr.H is mouthing curse words…We turn back and ride to a halt next to Chow’s bike which has stopped diagonally on the wrong side of the road facing into a gap between the wall of the building with the grilled gate and the wall of the next building – an under-construction Bungalow . I can feel the three shady men at the grill gate gaze at us like hawks. Deep in the gap between the walls of these two adjacent buildings is a Bike!!!

Its Crimson Red…. It’s a Pulsar 180 DTSi…Phew!!!

Time to learn the registration number

And yeah… I got kicked nicely by the guys in the hostel later on for being so careless and irresponsible…Its still hurting…Had I not been lucky enough for Chow to gaze into that gap between the two buildings at that moment and spot something…the bike, by the next morning would have been untraceable with new number plates, new ignition. new locks, and a new owner with a free tank full of petrol (19 litres)…The chassis number would have been scratched out or modified to fit new papers…I would have meanwhile spent the rest half of my monthly allowance on the police and would have had to live on air for the remaining part of the month and will have most certainly died of starvation and self-pity.

Monday, April 30, 2007

The Mess

mess mess what a mess!
the more you eat the more the mess
mess mess what a mess!
walk in and get free gastrointestinal distress

what to do? where to go?
we must have something in our belly no?
mess mess what a mess!
the more you eat the more the mess :-)

rumble mumble hear my stomach stumble
still tweaking to this gastronomical catastrophical jungle
mess mess what a mess!
the more you eat the more the mess..

chilly manchuri, cutlet fry, samosa
eat up or you will feel terribly mosa
mess mess what a mess!
the more you eat the more the mess :-)
mess mess what a mess
oops! its gas i must confess

Sunday, April 29, 2007

Chows Dilemma

DR Chowdhary Prashanth The Nekbyter has injected his bike with the secret devils formula which makes his CBZ sound like a CBR and allows it to accelerate from 0 - gazzabalabozozillion km/hr in 2 secs and drink petrol like water..So it has been immediately certified as national property of JJMMC Boys Hostel and Chow only gets to use it (never) when it is not being used by the underprivileged members of the Osi-Biker society which mainly consists of OC Reddy and OC Raghunath

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Rain Smells and the Sun's Tactics

Ah the smell of wet mud reminds me of when i was more down to earth with myself,The conditioned reflex to which is to shut up my trite truisms and lie back and let my nose enjoy himself....have you noticed that these rain smells feel a lot cooler on your nostrils than other smells?

Davangere is turning out to be a hotter and humider version of hell during summer.Its a burning hole. I have come to the conclusion that the sun is an incorrigible rogue. He first momentarily brainwashes everything into a nice glimmering golden during sunrise (like india shining) and then, after he gets his prayers and offerings from the naive, resorts to a full fledged cold blooded heat attack. The ass doesnt even hint at regretting making your armpits cry. Then in the evening at the end of his term like all good politicians he makes full exploit of everyones short t.v retarded brain and once again pretends to care and love and envelopes everything in gold before fading away, leaving his followers in the dark. He is a criminal bastard after sunset, he runs away to a different land, where he is called by a different name and has a different face with a different role but more or less similar halka kelsa methods

Wednesday, March 7, 2007

OBITUARY (Oh Bitch you are he!)

It is but my sad misfortune to announce to you the tragic and yes gory demise of the vaccinated tarantula.We tried as hard as we could for 30 long and tantalising minutes but at the end we couldn save him....everytime we thought we had him he would slip would be at the tip of the tongue but slip back to the unexplored deep,sweet unknowns of our hideous hippocampus.Thus the lovely vaccinated tarantula or taru as gajee used to so lovingly call him has passed on to the lap of The Lord Almighty today at 1505 hours after suffering from a rash but inconsistent attack of acute password retrieval failure (APRF).YES IT IS A SHOCKING AND GRAVE LOSS FOR ALL OF US(bharath) WHO KNEW AND CARED ABOUT TARU for taru was a good blog who minded his own quiet life,living silently in his rightfully owned 2 bytes of cyberspace and did his job no worse than the other 500 gazzillion neglected blogs holding his dignity close to his bosom and not letting out as much as a peep about his incredulous and inhumanly unfair state of things.

Mike Check