The Furious Days with the Dog in the Night Time

The incidents I am about to narrate are true. Some scenes may be graphic in nature, but this has nothing to do with my blog. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Some time back, when I used to get home in the evening, he used to bully me. He would block my path, growl, chase me around and make me angry enough to kill him. But before you misunderstand, I’m not a housewife, I’m not talking about my husband, and this is not the story of Provoked. (I may be known to eat the occasional box of special K cereal for special women, but this does not make me a girl!) This is the story of Man v/s Canine : when animals attack.

It’s true. The blasted dog used to attack me almost every other day. Err..night. On the nights it didn’t happen, I think the dog was silently watching me from the shadows, just to mess with my mind. Oh, he is wise, that mongrel. He is clever and calculating. He knows what I am afraid of most and he is not afraid to use any tactics, however shameless.

Why, the other day, he even had me attacked by a crow. But let me get back to that later. Let me lay down the basics; give you an idea of what it was like to come face to face with my canine nemesis.

Imagine a boxing arena, well lit and with thousands of spectators. The dog is in one corner and I, in the other. I’m wearing formal pants. The dog isn’t wearing any. (I told you he was shameless.) Thus, it continued night after night. Having to negate a road occupied by a pant-less dog. Now you know how I feel. No?

I know I can take on the dog if I want to (being a pretty big guy, I’ve heard things ranging from the harmless ‘aren’t you too big to be human?’ to the downright insulting ‘mommy, can I ride that camel’) , but he knows and I know too that I don’t want to get bitten. I have weight on my side, but he has rabies. The disease, I mean. Not the tiny creatures that grow into adults. Babies, I mean. Not the disease. You get what I mean. Anyhow, the dog knows that I’m scared of him. This is enough for him to block my road and make it almost impossible to get home without swinging from trees.

After weeks of doing so, I grew tired. I mean, there is only so much swinging that a man’s forearms can take. Anyhow, I decided to call in reinforcements.

Some weeks back, when I had my friends Lattim and Algnam (names written backwards to protect privacy) with me, I decided that it was time to take down the dog.

We confronted the mangy mutt at his favorite haunt (the middle of the road leading to my house) and tried to come up with a plan of attack. The conversation went something like this

Me: What say we throw something at it?

Dog: woof!

Me: Who invited you to the discussion?

Dog: woof!

Lattim: Sounds like a plan. But I think he’s onto us. Look at him barking. Son of a….

Dog: bow!

Me: Just ignore him. What shall we throw? Sticks and stones?

Dog: woof bow!

Lattim: Naa, those may only break his bones.

Dog: bow woof!

Me: Then what? Words? Call him names?

Dog: Raul! (strange howl, not a Spanish footballer’s name. Besides, we should be calling the dog names. Not the other way around.)

Lattim: Naa, words will never hurt him. We need something more potent. Something that can scare the life out of this dog. We need him to run for his life and never return.

Lattim fell into thought. I looked for rocks.

Now, it may be noted that this Lattim is a very resourceful guy. He thinks big. While I was eyeing a little rock, Lattim (who had been going to the gym for a few weeks) grabbed Algnam (a girl, btw), strapped her over his shoulder like a bazooka, and made for the dog while howling a fierce war cry. (in retrospection, the war cry may just have been Algnam screaming for her life. (No girl really wants to be thrown on a dog(or anything else for that matter))). Meanwhile, I gathered rocks in one hand, a stout stick in the other and charged at the dog from a different angle. While Lattim threatened the dog with the girl, I swirled the stick about my head and loosened a flurry of rocks. Algnam continued screaming at high pitched frequencies that only the dog could hear.

Obviously, this is too much for any dog to take. He whipped his tail between his legs and made for the mountains. He has not been seen since. Apparently, man had won the battle over canine(The operative word being apparently).

A few days after the incident, while I was walking in broad daylight, a crow snuck up on me and scratched my head. Honest to God, he did. While running from the crazed crow, I have a sneaky suspicion that I caught a glimpse of a dark shadow behind a tree. The shadow of a dog. And he was giving me the middle finger.

Mayawati Menace

In what could end months of mental torture endured by the common man, the Government of India may finally have figured out what to do with the Mayawati statues that have been popping up all over the country. As one may remember, the population explosion in Mayawati statues had started with an innocuous figurine that had appeared all of a sudden in UP. At that point, it had been dismissed as a random event.

However, over the course of a few months, it had reached a point where one could not turn around without bumping into a Mayawati statue. According to a victim of the statue menace, Kuttappan Singh Yadav, ‘I was taking my morning shower. By chance, my soap fell down. When I straightened myself after picking it up, Wham! There was a Mayawati statue along with me in the shower’ Kuttappan, who went into seizures on taking one look at the statue, is now suffering from chronic epilepsy.

Incidents like this have become all too common in the country, with statues turning up at every nook and cranny. In some remote corners of UP and Bihar, parents have stopped sending their children to school for fear of them being terrorized by the statues. Some kids, who dared to look at the statues indirectly through the clever use of mirrors and artificial lighting, have not slept since. Curiously enough, they have been screaming at night and complaining about the silence of the lambs.

Clearly, this has been a nation that went through its darkest hours in the last few months. However, there is now a glimmer of hope. Economists have suggested that the statues be exported. As they are to be found in abundance, there is no difficulty in declaring them as a natural resource and thereby bringing them under a list of commodities that the government can trade in.

The only problem that remains to be solved is ‘who in the blue hell will want to import them?’ Though this is a pressing concern, there have been positive signs from the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Parts of the country, which are thick with jungles, are often plagued by animal attacks. Wild life experts believe that the statues could find employment as scarecrows; except, they won’t be scaring crows. They will be scaring rhinos.

Meanwhile, experts have also declared that the Mayawati statues rank third in the list of scariest things known to man; and animal. The second scariest is a portrait of a smiling Mamta Banerjee that is locked away in a secret vault in the CIA headquarters at Langley. At moments of national peril, the US pulls this portrait out to interrogate terrorists. Topping the list, as the scariest thing in the world, is the vision of Uma Bharti in tight jeans and a tank top. (To imagine the horror, please visualize). Thankfully, no one has ever seen this. Should this event ever transpire, the universe as we know it will end.

Mayawati, who was contacted for her views on the matter, shockingly turned out to be a statue herself. Unfortunately, she is now indistinguishable from the hundreds of other statues and is hence unavailable for comment.

In other news, National Geographic has come out with its much anticipated list of evolutionary mistakes, a.k.a. creatures that should never have been allowed to evolve. This list, which includes the likes of the extinct Dodo and the soon to be extinct Panda, has been topped by Karan Thapar. He is closely followed by Arnab Goswami.

Rakhi Sawant, who many had expected to be on the list, has interestingly been disqualified from consideration and instead been classified as a mythical creature. It appears that history should remember her as one who may or may not have existed. Much like a Minotaur; only worse.

The Plane Truth

If you guys don’t know yet, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Flights in India are always delayed. Always. Don’t even try to make it to the airport on time. These guys are professionals; they’ve been doing it for years. Tell you what; I’m sure they even have trained employees whose sole purpose is to ensure that planes are late. Even if a plane does get ready on time, these guys hide it so it can’t take off as scheduled. I’m not kidding. I’ve seen people rolling planes away when they think no one is looking.

But all this is before you board the plane. Even if you’re on it, there are still things they can do to keep it grounded. ‘Technical snag’ is a popular ruse. Now this is not something you want to hear when you’re supposed to be flying through the air in this particular piece of equipment. You expect everything to be shipshape. Or rather plane-shape. (Get it? Yuk! Yuk!) And besides, what exactly is a technical snag?

Did the pilot forget his keys? Did a tyre have a flat? The last time I was on a plane, I decided to clarify. I approached a stewardess - which is what they call a flying waitress - and asked her what the problem might be. The conversation went something as follows:

Me: What exactly is this ‘technical snag’?

She (smiling inanely): The wings, sir. They’re fixing them. Can I get you anything, sir?

Me (horrified): The wings??

She (smiling inanely while nodding her head): Yes sir. They fell off during our last landing. Nothing to worry. Coffee for you, sir?

Me (panting and sweating): The wings fell off??

She (smiling inanely while nodding and pouring coffee): Oh nothing to worry. Happens all the time. Why, I remember that one time when the engine fell off. He He. We all thought we were going to die. Giggle. Ended up having a good time in the sea. Giggle Giggle. Enjoy your coffee, sir. Giggle.

Ok, I may have exaggerated that conversation. But just a tad bit. She did say that they were fixing the wings. And she did smile inanely. They do that, these flight attendants. Look calm no matter what. The plane may be tossing about in turbulence, bouncing up and down like a yo-yo or hurtling towards the earth at great speed. But they’ll keep calm. And smile inanely. And nod. And serve you coffee. Oh! and they also end every sentence with ‘sir’. This makes me suspect they’re robots. That would also explain they’re prefect figures. (Unless you’re on Air India; and even they come in standard sizes). But that’s a story for another day.

Fixing the wings, it seems. Did she mean fix as in ‘repair’ or fix as in ‘glue to the side of the plane’. Whichever it was, it was damn scary.

Aren’t the wings the things that keep the plane in the air? Without them, it isn’t even a plane anymore. It’s just a giant tube trying to fly through the air. That’s not possible is it? Ask yourself. Have you ever seen a bird without wings? Flying, I mean. Not a dead chicken at KFC. I didn’t think so. Hell, the only thing I know that can fly without wings is a rocket. And that’s only because it has fire coming out of its end. As far as I remember, paramount airways flight I7-474 was no rocket. Ergo, it could not fly without wings.

And so we waited. For how long, I cannot tell. I do know however that a pregnant lady gave birth and watched her son take his first steps on the plane. The pilot bounced him on his knee and what not. By the time he was old enough to shave, they said they couldn’t fix the wings. Instead, they were going to get us another plane. Just like that; as though you could send the errand boy to the stationery shop for one.

But to their credit, they did find one. Probably one of the planes they’d hidden earlier. Soon as it was ready, they brought us a bus type thingy to take us to the other plane; which, incidentally, was parked 5 metres away. But instead of walking, they made us board the bus, take us around the airport 10 times, do a couple of wheelies, break down in the middle of the tarmac and cause another plane to skid off the runway. Finally, when we did enter plane 2, we were met with inane smiles from new flight attendants. Till that point, I was ok. It was when they started nodding their heads and serving coffee while calling me ‘sir’ that I started screaming like a mad man and ran away to catch the train.

The Chicken

She asks me to lie down on her couch and close my eyes. I do so. She puts on some soft music and tells me to tell her what I see. I say I don’t see anything. The first thing, she says. Tell me what comes to mind. Let yourself go. And so I do.

There’s this chicken. Its white. Its standing on the side of a road.

And is it going to cross it?

No, it doesn’t cross it. It thinks about it, but its confused. It’s a highway. Its dark; and raining.

Whats it doing there?

Nothing. It just stands. For a while. Getting wet. Then it looks around.

What does it see?

On its right side, theres a briefcase. On the left, nothing. Behind, it’s the woods. I stop.

Go on. Take your time.

The chicken looks at the briefcase. Casually. It may have belonged to it, but it isn’t sure. And there are handcuffs.

Where?

On the handle. Of the briefcase.

Is the chicken chained to the briefcase?

No, its not. It thinks that it may have been. But those are handcuffs, it thinks. ‘HAND’cuffs. A chickens got wings. Not hands.

Then what?

A thought enters its mind. ‘I may be a flightless bird. But I’m still a bird’

Does the chicken want to fly away?

No. I don’t think so.

What does it want to do?

Nothing. Its just waiting.

For what?

For what comes next.

And what is that?

A truck. A big one. With steam coming out of its side. It rolls into view from beyond a bend in the road. Its headlights are powerful. The chicken can see the raindrops that the light hits. The chicken thinks they’re beautiful.

Could the chicken see anything before the truck came? How dark was it?

Quite dark but not pitch. The moon was out, albeit weakly.

What does the truck do?

It stops near the chicken. The driver leans across and opens the passenger door. He’s a big guy. Fat, and with tattoos on his arms. He says ‘can I give you a lift, mac?’

What does the chicken do?

It nods. And it climbs into the truck. The driver points to the briefcase and says ‘aren’t you forgetting something?’

What does the chicken say?

It says ‘I’m trying to forget’

And then what?

That’s it, they drive away.

She asks me to open my eyes. She tells me what she thinks. You hate your job, she says. The briefcase with the handcuffs shows that you’re tied down by it. You want to fly away, you think you deserve better. But you’re too chicken to do anything about it. You have a choice, a road to cross. Perhaps a better opportunity. But you’re too passive. You want that big truck to come and rescue you. You cant be like that. ‘Carpe Diem’, she says. Seize the day. Don’t wait for anything. Believe you can fly and you can do it. You don’t have to be a chicken. Be an eagle. Soar over the skies.

She makes me pay. She smiles. I can see that she thinks she solved my problem. But she hasn’t. I still don’t know what to do with the chicken sitting in my truck.

Tharoor Lobbies For World Class Slum in Trivandrum

Trivandrum: MoS for External Affairs, Shashi Tharoor was in the city today to deliver a talk on urban infrastructure planning. After gathering an audience at Symphony Hall, Tharoor wished them a very good morning, cut his talk short and declared that he would Tweet the rest of his speech from the privacy of his hotel room which also has a gym; neither of which the auditorium has.

Before the stunned crowd had a chance to react, Tharoor attempted to sneak away by shutting his eyes tight, pressing his back to the wall and moving sideways on tip toe; all this while his Wi-Fi enabled laptop was balanced on top of his head. After two minutes he opened his peepers and realized that he was moving in circles around the podium. When he saw a hundred angry eyes trained on him, Tharoor gave them the stiff upper lip, cryptically remarked 'This is why I need privacy and a gym; neither of which the auditorium has' and beat a hasty retreat. Sources who were close to Tharoor at the time reveal that he raced to the exit and sped away in a brand new 4-wheel austerity drive.

True to his word, Tharoor was on Twitter within the minute. How he managed to do so while driving is still a mystery that is yet to be solved (just like most mysteries). Top scientists suggest that perhaps the man shares a symbiotic relationship with the social networking site, both feeding off each other and growing in stature at the same time. But this is beside the point. The fact remains that in the space of a couple of hours, Tharoor managed to upload a 15000 word speech onto Twitter. At 140 characters per tweet, this is an incredible feat that would've taken the average human no less than..forget it! the average human could never have pulled this off. Not even if he had bequethed his speech and his twitter login ID and password to his children and asked them to complete if for him.

Yet, our Tharoor made short work of character restrictions on Twitter and revealed his plans on how he would make his constituency Trivandrum a global city; just as he had promised pre election. According to Tharoor, who has spent hours studying great Indian cities such as Mumbai, Delhi and Kolkata, the only thing that they have that Trivandrum doesnt is world class slums. Though Trivandrum has a small one at Chengalchoola, Tharoor calls it a pathetic excuse for a slum. Occupying an area of less than 1 sq. km., Tharoor tweets in disgust that the slum doesnt even have a decent beggar to speak of. 'They all have jobs. Thooo!', tweets Tharoor.

To address this slum problem, Tharoor has called in international expert on slums, Danny Boyle. Danny Boy, who is also an expert on dogs and millionaires, asserts that if Trivandrum were to have a world class slum, he could make a movie (oscar winning), call it Slumdog Mallu Nair and thus put Trivandrum on the world map.

When asked on Twitter how he plans to bring this scheme to pass, Tharoor claims that he has alredy identified land for the project. In fact, he has put in a proposal to the Union and State Governments to acquire property in a circle around the city. His dream is that but for the sea on one side, Trivandrum should be fenced on all sides by slums. In the future, he hopes that Kochi will also be surrounded by such a slum, with the two circles of slums meeting somewhere near Kayamkulam. He also tweets that he has tears in his eyes when dreaming of such a future for Trivandrum. When asked whether he would spend a night with one of these slum dwellers, as many congress leaders on an austerity drive are prone to do, Tharoor tweets that he would certainly do so; provided the slum has privacy and a gym; neither of which the auditorium has.

Bengal Tiger Victim of Racial Abuse in Melbourne Zoo

In yet another disgraceful example of racially charged assaults in Australia, a Bengal Tiger (of Indian origin) has now been attacked in a zoo. When early reports of the incident spread, the Bengal Tiger was suspected to have been Saurav Ganguly. However, it has now been ascertained that it was indeed a real tiger; a tiger that must now have given up dreams of having the wind in his mane and hopping along with Kangaroos in the Australian Outback.

Sher Khan, 18, was returning to his cage late thursday evening when two caucasian males and a koala bear ambushed him. Later inspection of security cameras reveal that the so-called bear was hurled at the tiger from close proximity. The koala, which appears to have been specifically trained for such an assult, then proceeded to pull out the tiger's whiskers one by one. While the tiger was thus demoralised, the youth approached him with spray paint and drew yellow and black stripes on him. That the tiger was already yellow with black stripes does not seem to have deterred them at all from indulging in tiger graffiti. This, we have deemed to be extremely racist. Experts comment that stripes of these specific colours have been chosen to target the Chinese and the Africans. Evidently, the aussies are now keen to warn away not just the Indians, but people of all other races as well.

According to zoo keeper Shane Kuttappan , the attack was cold blooded and inhuman. He goes on to say that the koala in question has a history of intolerenace. The previous year, he had gone so far as to chop off the fluffy black ears of a Chinese Panda and wear them as mittens. Unfortunately, the Koala is now in hiding and is unavailable for comment. Inset, is the picture of this vicious creature. Readers who have information on its whereabouts are requested to contact Australian cricket captain Ricky Ponting, who has taken personal responsibility for the attack. (God knows why).



Meanwhile, two Indian students are learned to have kidnapped a Zebra from the same zoo. This appears to have been done in retaliation, as they left a mysterious note with the words 'If Kevin Rudd doesnt make Australia safe for Indians, we will paint this Jeebra black and white and play tic-tac-toe on him'. What they were thinking is unclear at this point. As the Zebra isnt even native to Australia, the only conclusion one can draw is that they are just plain dumb.

Cyclone Bypasses Mumbai, Stops in Pune for Chai

Cyclone Phyan, which had been threatening parts of Western India is learned to have harmlessly walked (err, flown) past Mumbai. According to witnesses, the credit goes to meteorologist Kuttappan Thackery who stood on top of the Bandra-Worli Sea Link with signal flags. On spotting the advancing cyclone, Kuttappan frantically waved at it and lured it away with promises of a holiday for two in Kerala.

Now that the crisis has been averted, one asks the question that is on everyone's mind. What exactly did Phyan want? Why did it threaten Western India? Apparently, the answers lie in the cyclone's past. Phyan, who was born in the tropical waters of the Arabian Sea, seems to have had a violent childhood. Though his birth was peaceful, his formative years saw waves of frustration mounting on him. A sea of trouble saw him getting expelled from a school (of fish) and from then, things were never really the same.

Phyan decided that he needed a change in his present state (from liquid to solid) and decided to move inland for a brief sabbatical. When the realization dawned on him that property prices were astronomical in Mumbai, he decided to hold the city to ransom. He flew into a rage and demanded housing on Nariman Point. When the demands were not met, he stormed out of all negotiations and threatened Gujarat and Maharashtra. Had it not been for Kuttappan, one wonders what the carnage may have been.

When last seen, Phyan was on the way to Kerala and had stopped in Pune for a quick bite and chai. This humble reporter gathered all his courage, walked up to Phyan, addressed him respectfully as Mr. Phayan Ji and asked him what his future plans might be. Phyan responded by putting his arm around this reporter's shoulder, patting him on the back and saying 'call me Manikandan' in a mallu accent.

US to Relocate Afghanistan

Can they do that? Yes, they can!

Incredible as this may sound, this is no joke. Ok, thats partly a lie. Afghanistan is a joke. But not the idea. Ok, thats also a lie. I made this up. As a joke. Still, hear me out.

After years of sending troops (interestingly, a group of monkeys is also called a troop but I'm not trying to imply anything) over there to fight the war, the US is now bored. Thats right, just plain bored. They really do know where everyone is hiding. But whats the fun in just jumping in front of Osama (spelt with an S and not a B) and shouting 'tag, you're it!' when you can keep playing the game. However, a change in venue is always good to keep the boys interested.

One would recall that when Moses met the burning bush, the events that followed involved a mass exodus (exoduses / exodusi do tend to be mass) and what not. In this case, Obama too met a burning Bush. His name was George. And he was going down. In flames. So, what does our Obama (spelt with a B and not an S) do that our Bush did not? He decides to remove all the Afghans from Afghanistan and take them some place else. Why? Just for fun.

Some other reasons for doing this include

- Irritating neighbors. (spelt Pak..noo, not pakora)
- Dust in the eyes
- Intermittent water supply
- Power cuts

OK! There just isnt any reason to stay in Afghanistan, is there? Amazing they didnt think of moving earlier. So, what next?

The action plan

- gather all Afghans, put them in a ship, take them to Texas
- they blend in with Mexicans (racist disclaimer)
- marines join cowboys who are alredy engaged in shooting up the average Hose' (Mexican name, not a water conduit)
- all are happy (except for Osama, who is now called Hoolio. It just doesnt have the same effect. Imagine the television channels talking about a global hunt for Al-Qaeda chief Hooolio.)

Oh and in case you're wondering what they'll do with all the vacant real estate in Afghanistan, dont fret. They intend to put up a giant Walmart there. This will be the Walmart to end all Walmarts. Just like World War 1. From this mega giga Walmart, they'll service all of Asia and Europe. The whole world is at peace. Till they decide to start Walmart 2 , of course.

Narendra Modi Tests Positive for Swine

A recent survey conducted by 'we, the people of India' has led to the startling revelation that one of our foremost politicians is in fact of porcine origins. When a national channel -during its prime-time programme - flashed an sms poll with the innocuous question, 'Do you think Modi is a pig?' , 99.99% of respondents voted 'Yes'. The 0.01% that voted 'No' was later found to be Modi, his team of political advisers and a dog that had stepped on a mobile phone by mistake.

This harmless question which was raised in the interest of the nation went on to fuel questions of greater magnitude. What if? No, thats not it. What if Modi is indeed a little piggy masquerading in human form and not homosapien as previously believed? The sheer magnitude of the question is unimaginable. Indeed, it might just spark a new field of animalo-anthropomorphic research. But that is a question for the future. What has been done now, is a state sponsored genetic profiling of Modi. The results have been conclusive. Now, it is not the way of this reporter to directly refer to a stalwart in Indian politics in derogatory terms. However, the truth has to be said. One way or another. One chooses then, to express the facts in euphemistic terms: if one were to cook Modi for breakfast, one would be eating bacon. The implications are sufficiently clear.

For further proof, noted astrologer Dr. Kuttappan Namboodiri was contacted. According to him, though some creatures appear to be human in form, they are in actuality animal incarnations. For instance, if one observes an individual who is overtly given to barking out orders (does the word 'boss' ring a bell?) he / she is most likely involved in a canine birth. Through the practice of good karma, this human-dog may just be able to achieve a truly human birth in the next life. Amen!

So, how does Kuttappan prove the porkiness of Modi? "Simple", he says. "Just take a look at that face"



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It is surprising indeed that these creatures have been living among us for long. Who knows who one can trust now. Is my neighbour a T-Rex? A Blue Whale? A Praying Mantis? There is no way of being sure. Several ethical question are also raised. Do the same rules that apply to humans hold for these psuedo-humans too? Can I be held responsible for shooting my annoying colleague who I am sure is a parakeet? I sure hope not.

Anyhow, the next time you send out for pizza, ask them to hold the pepperoni. You may just want to go for the Modi. Oink!

Cooks and Books

All this hype over Jaswant Singh’s book and his expulsion from the BJP has diverted attention from an event of no less national importance. In a little reported case in the capital city of Kerala, chef Maya Nambiar has been relieved of her duties as deputy head chef at noted 5 star hotel, North Park. The ostensible reason: her new cook book in which she calls the tomato a vegetable.

According to head chef, M.O. Han, and we quote “The situation is ridiculous. We can’t have senior party members (Nambiar was in charge of birthday parties) incapable of differentiating between a fruit and a vegetable. Especially when it’s something like a tomato, which is clearly a fruit. Ridiculous, I say. Now, if it were a pumpkin, I agree. There is some ambiguity. But a tomato? This cant be tolerated”

When contacted over the controversy, Chef Nambiar had this to say “He has obviously not read my book. Nowhere have I called the tomato a vegetable. It is true that in the recipe for Channa Masala, I may have listed tomato under the heading 'required vegetables', but this is entirely different from calling it so directly.”

However, Han does not relent. On the contrary, he has called for a state-wide ban on Nambiar’s book. When reminded that five years back, he had himself called the peanut a nut, Han pales but recovers. Where is the evidence?, he asks , while simultaneously patting his stomach on the sly and winking twice. Obviously, he is nut a man to be messed with.

Banana Hits South Indian State : Zero Dead

In a shocking development, this reporter has uncovered a plot to turn certain South Indian states into fruit salad. The incident occured at about 8.30 am, Monday morning. Kuttappan, a farmer and part time coconut tree climber, was relaxing atop his favorite tree when things took a turn for the worse. The skies darkened and storm clouds gathered. Kuttappan braced himself for the rain. It never came. Instead, a whilrling vortex of air materialized in the atmoshphere and out shot a projectile at incredible velocity.

It was not till he realized that it was headed for his hut that Kuttappan exploded off the tree and raced thither. By the time he reached his humble abode, it was in shambles. This, he says, was his wive's doing and not the missile's. Apparently, the missile had impacted with a cow in the backyard, hurtling it into outer space. Though unconfirmed, the animal is currently orbiting in a geo stationary plane.

Kuttappan panicked and called in the experts. Dr. Manikandan Nair, acclaimed scientist and resident genius, was the first on the scene. Upon close ispection, Nair ascertained that the UFO was a banana. This uncanny deductive ability, he attributes to his long experience with fruit. He said, and we quote, 'Pazham kanda namukke arinjoodae. Hah' (I isolated the gene and completed a DNA analysis. Without doubt, this a herbaceous plant of the genus, Musa)

In a separate incident, an apple is known to have exploded into the conference room of a popular IT company. This was found to be especially shocking since apples aren't naitve to the area. The previous day, a jackfruit had landed in the lobby and had been accepted as perfectly natural. When contacted and asked what measures were being taken to deal with this invasion, Nair remarked ' We're making custard and jelly. After all, what good is a fruit salad without accompaniments'. This, we find to be entirely ridiculous. Everyone knows that fruit salad goes with ice cream.

The Price of Karma

Meet Kuttappan. He is a young man at a new job. And like all young men at new jobs, he isnt happy. He is not sure whether he is being paid what he deserves. His friend, Manikandan, who has the exact same CV (This is no exaggeration. Manikandan copied from Kuttappan) is earning more than him. Why?

Kuttappan prays to God. He doesnt ask for more. He merely wants to know what he desrves. God calls him. He tells him that its karma. Kuttappan asks for quantitative and not qualitative data. God sets up karma.com and gives Kuttappan a login ID of his own choice. Kuttappan is happy.

He logs on and chooses the time frame as the last one month. He finds that he is worth 50 karmas (the unit for karma being karma itself) for the past month. He checks the exchange rate and finds that the market rate is 1karma= 1k INR. He is aggrieved. He calls his boss and mails him the link. "Look, I should be getting 50k per month" Boss takes a look and says " I'll get back to you" He does. "I'm sorry but thats before tax".

K: What tax? Income?
B: Karma!
K: Karma is taxed??
B: What did you think? Unfortunately, you fall in a higher karma bracket. You need to pay more.

Kuttappan prays to God. Someone else answers.

K: Where's God?
S: We had to let Him go.
K: What do you mean?
S: Its the recession. We couldnt afford to keep Him on.
K: God got fired?
S: Yeah, his karma wasnt good enough.