When luck smiles...

Being at the right place at the right time changes one’s lives dramatically in a positive direction. I had mentioned how my senior colleague suggested me a Gulf job while in the office loo in Mumbai.
Yesterday we were discussing situations where people have landed in trouble for being in wrong places at wrong times. A man decided to take a quiet walk. He avoided the dangerous highway and walked carefully on the footpath. He was crossing a skyscraper. On the 14th floor, another man had decided “enough was enough” with life. He jumped through the window. And he landed on this pedestrian, killing him. The man who wanted to die survived.
Another colleague said about this Second World War hero who returned home triumphantly. He was relaxing when a piece of concrete fell on his head, taking his life.
Shucks. Why are on this negative track? Come on. We are positive thinkers.
Yes. A Pakistani garbage truck loader who lives in a labor camp in Sharjah, received a phone call recently.
“You are a millionaire.”
Ajmal Khan works as a laborer earning AED 800 per month ($1=AED3.67).
He could not believe his ears.
He had won the Etisalat 24 Millionaires promotion.
I am praying at least one of my precious friends (Hey, where are you looking? You are one indeed) gets such a phone call.
What say?

Let’s catch up

Apologies. Apologies. Please do not give that look buddies. You are too precious for me and you know that. Remembered you all the time though I could not keep in touch virtually. I swear. Just dropped betterhalf at Dubai airport and returned to office.
Strange Dubai taxi meters start with Dhs40 ($1 = 3.67 dirhams) minimum if we hire one for Sharjah from the airport. So tried a bus. The bus driver told me to get down and buy a NOL card for Dhs20. Under the new system you cannot just buy a ticket and travel anywhere in a bus in Dubai. You buy a card for Dhs 20 (called NOL card – don’t ask me the meaning. Dunno) and punch it everytime you use. Earlier me and philosopher friend Faiyaz enjoyed several bus trips as it was a flat rate of merely Dhs2 from anywhere to anywhere within the city. Gone are those days philosopher.
It was a mixed bag this week. I was feeling great with my wife taking care of the cooking aspect. After months I could eat good home food. There was too much of shopping. She smiled, I frowned as expected. On the negative side, there was domestic turbulence involving a close relative. That’s it. Let’s catch up from where we missed. Now, come on, shake hands, and say cheese.

Three more days

Did not get leave at office buddies. Plz bear with me for three more days..at least...

A two-day break

Better half has arrived in Dubai for a week's visit. So applying for a two or three-day leave from blogworld. Sure you, my precious friends, will grant. Cheers always.

Here's (y)our award

Here's another award from Mr. Pramathesh™ Borkotoky of Bamboo Lounge. Feeling great. Thanks PB. Wish you the very best in life.

Cut it short

My colleague arrived late.
“Why?”
“You know what? After taking bath, I told my wife….,”
“Cut it short.”
“OK. I forgot my purse. Had to return home.”
Some days passed.
Again he was late.
“Why?”
“Missed the bus.”
“But how can you be irresponsible…?”
“OK. You know what? After taking bath, I….,” he started all over again.
“Cut it short,” I told him.
“I already cut it short saying I missed the bus. You wanted details,”
He lives his own way and me my own way.
Some people never change boss.

The missing staircase

I was enjoying my lunch at my earlier newspaper office, when I received a call from a lawyer-friend.
“Boss. I am on first floor,” he said.
“So?”
“I cannot go down.”

“What do you mean? Take the elevator or walk the stairs,” I replied, a bit irritated.
“That’s the problem. Being an old building, it has no elevators. And the huge wooden staircase has been removed by the landlord suddenly following a tussle between him and the tenants. We have been left hanging in the building,” he elaborated.
I laughed out. That they found a solution to the problem with the help of police is obvious.
The Times of India did carry my story in a box titled: “Staircase carted away in daylight.”

Gosh, why did you slap?

The subject of discussion yesterday among us colleagues was ghosts. A colleague kicked off the debate by describing how she was disappointed with a Hollywood movie on vampires.

I have also heard weird stories during my childhood. In villages slapping of people by “ghosts” around midnight was a common story. There will be a knock at the door, the face and head of the “visitor” would be totally covered with a bedsheet and the voice would be familiar.

“Come, come..,” the "ghost" would invite the people in deep slumber. The victim would follow innocently and once they reach an open field, the victim (he/she) would receive a tightttt slap and fall unconscious.

There was another one well-known category called “Ammukuvan” (What’s the translation? OK, one who presses hard) in Tamil. When some one sleeps in open terrace, this Ammukuvan would press his/her stomach so hard that the person would find it difficult to breathe. I used to be terrified but my communist brother took it as a challenge and slept many times in open terrace.

Nothing happened.

Well, stories are stories. Let’s not analyse deep. Do not forget those days there were no mobile phones (to contact the family if Amukuvan strikes or ring up police if “ghosts” slap).

Say cheese 24/7. “Ghosts” will also smile at you, shake hands with you and bid adieu.

Here's (y)our another award

Now this award is from sweet friend Sujata. How lucky I am to have such wonderful friends all around. Herewith dedicating the award as usual to all the visitors of this blog.

Here's (y)our award

Hey..9/9/9 has proved to be lucky after all. Poorva and Jyothi have been very kind enough to pass on this award. I am overwhelmed by the affection. Thank you my dear friends. Lemme me wish you the very best in life. Herewith dedicating the award as usual to all the visitors of this blog.

Battered husbands

“Life’s a war. You are on a chariot. Fight arrows attacking you in the form of greed, anger, desire etc. Retaliate with darts of compassion and kindness. Hold on to God, who drives the chariot.” my friend was going on.
“Boss, change the subject,” I said. “No philosophy now.”
“OK, how’s your friend?”
"Which friend?”
“That guy who was regularly beaten up by his wife,” he replied.
“How do you remember something I told you years ago? Well, that guy was my landlord in Ghatkopar, Mumbai, and we as bachelors shared a room in his house. Their family of four used to sit for dinner together at the adjascent room and within minutes we would hear furious noises. The hefty woman would push him so hard that many times he landed in our room,” I recollected.
The guy would then rise up and advice us: “Mehnat se kamav, kushi se kaav.” (Work hard, eat happy).
“Poor guy,” my friend remarked.
Suddenly I woke up. “Why did you remember him now?”
“Can’t you see the bruises?” he asked, rubbing his hands.
Oh, now I understand why he turned a philosopher.

Lifting up the spirits

The elevator door opened and I saw her standing there.
“Hi. Sweetheart,” I hugged her.
“Where the heck were you for so many months?” she asked lovingly.
“Hard labour, friend. Little time for self,” I bluffed.
She looked at the mirror, picked up her lipstick and decked up.
“So we meet next Thursday for my birthday,” she whispered. “Do visit home.”
“Sure, advance greetings,” I said.
“No one will believe I am turning 58, right?” she winked and waved her hand “bye.”

Hair-raising experience

It was a lazy weekend yesterday and I decided to go for a haircut.
“How you doing?” asked the hair-stylist changing his blade. Before I could reply he focused his eyes on the TV. His hands went off magically chopping my Salman Khan-style hair with a sharp razor. At one point, the knife was millimeters away from my eyes and I cried out, “Bahhh...”
“What?” he asked and when I told him he would slash my eyes as well, he replied, "Sorry."
As he continued,there was a news item on TV about rape cases.
His eyes were again glued to the Idiot Box. He questioned his colleague about the number of cases, while I went numb wondering whether the closely-placed knife would slit my throat. Again I murmured, “Bahhh.”
“Now what? Oh, sorry,” he said. And tried to concentrate.
Once done, he lied, “You look like a film star,” and added “But you need a shave.”
“Go for it.”
Off he went, but it was like a bloodbath. He covered up his errors with half a powder box and a huge quantity of after-shave lotion.
“Excellent. What about Koleston hair colouring?” he asked.
“Why. I do not have grey hair,” I bluffed this time.
He laughed. “Look at the mirror.”
I had to agree.
The damage on the face and purse was heavy. But it was worth the experience. Somehow, I felt I looked more handsome with all those cuts on the face.

Life never ends for some

This comment of Vinisha, Mumbai, is interesting. So sharing with you:
"I don't really have a negative opinion on people who try to kill themselves. It's a personal choice really - they have their lives and they can choose to have enough of it when they please.
Of course, the vital question is whether people are really done living their lives. There's a sitcom on Star World "Grey's Anatomy" which had an episode on a 80 yr old guy who was in a coma for many years and finally woke up wishing he was dead. He tried everything from not eating to eating stuff his body couldn't take to sitting in a chair and using all the energy of his body into saying "I'll be dead now"
He doesn't die. He wants to because he's done living and everyone who was with him was gone with the exception of him. And then one fine day when hes ready to leave the hospital all dressed up, sitting in his bed by the window in the morning sunshine, he passes quietly away like a gentle breeze - sitting there just like that as if comtemplating back on his long lived life.
Sometimes I think I've had enough of living and then I decide to wait just for a little while more and see if I indeed have had enough and sure enough something else comes through that makes me want to live for a really really really long time. :)"

Deadly subject

This story in the Indian media is no laughing matter, but sorry, it did make me giggle.
A jobless man had a tiff with his wife. He decided to end his life, drove his spouse out of the house and locked himself in. He switched on the LPG cylinder and threatened to set himself ablaze. A huge crowd gathered. The cops were summoned. The guy was in no mood to listen to anyone. The firemen thought opening the door would be dangerous. So the team enacted a drama. Everyone pulled out as if they had lost
interest. The crowds were asked to hide at a distance. A couple of cops hid near the door. Pin-drop silence. After a few minutes, the man decided to check out what was happening. He slowly opened the door.
That was enough time to pin him down. Guess what, the angry man bit a policeman in the scuffle. And he is facing legal action for that.
Suicides. What a deadly subject. I had a colleague in my newspaper who was ever smiling and was doing her PhD. Once I met her mom, I told her: “Your daughter is ever smiling.” After a few months, this girl got married. It was a grand wedding at the Sion area of Mumbai where we were served varieties of food. Less than two years into the marriage, trouble began. The wonderful girl continued to smile but something went amiss. One day we got the news that she had consumed poison and died. We friends went to her house for the funeral. The first thing that the mom told me: “You said my daughter is always smiling. See her now. Is she not smiling now?”
What a tragic moment! I could not stand there for another second.
Strangely, I feel like recollecting Mark Twain’s words: “The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.”

Hello brother

After seeing a recent post of mine (An ass's tale), a colleague called me "Donkey." I greeted him back: "Hello brother."

Love is blind

I had ample opportunity to fall in love, but did not have the guts, thinking if I fall I would get hurt, fatally. Why talk about that now?
Well, romance is an interesting subject. And when it does not concern me, I can be open, right?
This boy was flirting with that girl for three years. Suddenly, I get an
invitation for wedding. Only the name of the girl was different. Both of them were very close to me. The dejected girl has remained single for many years now. She’s so beautiful and humble, like all other friends of mine, especially you. (If you are a “He,” change the adjectives to handsome and humble).
I am sure each one of you has come across cases of people bruised by jilted lovers. Am I against love marriage? No, I am just wondering.
My friend mentioned, with figures, the increasing number of broken marriages. Mind boggling, boss. Of course, there are the successful ones too. We will discuss that later.
BTW, did I tell you about the “sister” trick? Just in a lighter vein. When a new girl entered our office, my colleagues, surprisingly often female colleagues, would prod me, “Is she your sister or exception?” If she’s pretty, she is an exception, if not, she’s my sister. One day, this girl SA (now woman) entered office. I promptly declared her “sister.” All the colleagues giggled and told her, “He is calling you sister.” She blushed and replied innocently, “Hey, I do not like these emotional touches ya.” Later, when she heard the real reason, she chased me up to the door with a “You croooookkkk.”
Conclusion? Nothing. Love is blind. This subject has no answer. You fall in love with someone and marry later, or marry and then fall in love. That’s none of my business. But as you happen to be my best friend, I can tell you: “For one to have peace, there is no alternative to loyalty, transparency and commitment from both parties.”