Hey poet, food waiting

Another Saturday weekly off. Decided to chill out lazily when good friend Subramani, a married bachelor like me, rang up around noon to say he is waiting to share lunch with a special Avial (Mixed veg).
Had to rush. So dashed to the same saloon (you remember?) for a rapid haircut and shave. The same hair cutter was there, Asianet TV was on and he sported the same smile. I sat on the same chair, and in minutes it was the same bloodbath on my face. Dunno whether he used the same razor.
Before leaving, put on the DVD to hear some old Tamil songs. One brilliant title went on like this: “Look at the hen, how early it gets up, see the sparrow, how active it is, check out the crow, how it calls out its friends. And look at ourselves! Oh God, serious stuff.
OK. Moved on to the next song. It was about a man who could not believe someone very close could have said something like that. The lines: “Did she say this? Can’ttttt beeee. Salty sea can turn sweet, all 30 days can turn full moon days, a burnt corpse may rise and walk, but she could not have said this.”
Ooof what lines! It continued, “Mom’s milk may turn toxic, I may forget you and still survive, but how could you have said this?”
Hey, hey, poet, I screamed, “Avial is waiting.”
I put off the DVD and called out, “Taxiiii.”

Look at the mirror

I can never forget Lata D Mello.
“Change your hairstyle, stupid. Front to rear combing instead of left to right is the new trend,” this brilliant colleague yelled at me once after I got a promotion in my Mumbai newspaper. “Mature up.”
I did so promptly and you know how handsome I look now.
And so it happened that I told a female colleague yesterday, “Change your hairstyle.”
“What’s wrong with my present style?” she asked.
“You attend major conferences and will look more presentable with a new style.”
“You talking about looks?” she asked me.
And hastily picked up her handbag.
I thought she’s offering a gift for the great idea.
Out came a tiny mirror.
“Have a look at yourself.”

Here's (y)our award

Awesome. Here's another award from wonderful blogger friend Kadri. How lucky I am to have such wonderful friends all around. Herewith dedicating the award as usual to all the visitors of this blog.

‘Next time I will slap him’

Whenever I manage to shake off my laziness and go for an early morning walk, I feel as happy as a child who gets a “kitchu kitchu” (tickle).
Today was one such day and I walked briskly. The weather in Sharjah is pleasant and will remain like this through December. I feel like inviting all blog friends home. Hey, don’t take me seriously; if you come you have to starve like me as I am a horrible cook.
OK. While walking I slowed down because two middle-aged Desi women passed by. My ears sharpened. Rotten gossip.
The first woman was telling the other, “You should have asked him to get lost.”
“I did. He’s shameless. Next time, I will slap him.”
There was a pause as they noticed me.
Then the second one said in a hush-hush tone: “That day he took my cellphone and was looking at it as if he has never seen one. Shameless.”
I looked. They looked.
I felt as if the first lady was telling the other, “Here comes another crook.”
So I moved ahead on top gear.
God save men from women and women from men, and women from women and men from men.

Just for a break

I had been to the Emirates Humour Club meeting yesterday in Dubai. Lemme share just three jokes I heard there;
* A man was looking at a new three-storey building in a dejected mood.
“Why you look so sad?” asked a passer-by.
“I have completed three floors of this building,” he replied.
“Lovely. So this is your building.”
“Ya. But I am just wondering who is the land owner!”

* Son was crying. Dad asked why.
“Mom beat me.”
“Don’t cry. Have you seen me crying when your mama beats me?”

* “Wake up that sleeping guy,” the lecturer told James.
“Sir, first you make him sleep and now you ask me to wake him up,” replied James.
NB: Hey, who's that running after me with a stick! These jokes are not mine.

Brat who bit me

Everyone loves children, me too. But rogue children get on my nerves.

What? Are you asking me why I am angry?

OK, tell some brat to bite your hand and then ask this question.
I was at my friend’s home when this little monster was told by his dad: “Say Hi to uncle?”
The brat replied: “Hi chesma (specs) uncle.”
“Don’t say that beta (son),” this was his dad.
The monkey then tried to climb on my shoulders and in the process pushed down my specs.
This was when his dad gave him a mild slap and the monkey turned his ire on me while crying. He bit my hand saying “It’s all because of you,” and ran towards his loving mom, who hugged him.
What a wonderful family! I escaped in a matter of seconds. Who wants bite marks all over?

Stingy friend’s dirty trick

I told you about a close relative who was stingy.
Once we were enjoying dinner at his home, when he put off the light.
“The TV is on. Why do you need the tubelight?” he asked.
With my scratch-filled specs, I could hardly see. I almost picked up items from my wife’s plate as she was sitting next to me.
Why do I remember that relative now?
Well, yesterday, a miserly colleague’s phone buzzed a Bollywood tune.
Lalalalala….
“Who is this?” he asked and continued, “Oh, professor? You are already in our reception room? I will be there in a minute.”
He turned to me and said: “I do not want to pay for this man’s coffee. Do you have Dhs100?”
Puzzled, I nevertheless gave him the money. He dragged me to the reception room.
After initial greetings, he asked the professor, “Coffee or tea?”
As I looked worrying about my Dhs100, the professor replied: “Coffee, without sugar please.”
My friend promptly ordered coffee and within minutes the canteen boy arrived.
Just when the professor was relishing the sugar-less coffee, my friend asked the canteen boy loudly, “You have change for Dhs100?”
“No.”
The innocent professor kept the cup down and said, “I think I have some change.”
“No, no, no professor. It’s insulting,” the dramatist played his game well.
The poor professor finished his discussion and thanked us for the coffee he paid for. And I got my Dhs100 back.

63-year young man

He’s all of 63 and a marketing man. He has an amazing tact in networking and keeps in regular touch with all good friends. He had to leave UAE for India last month, dealing a blow to me as I miss a great friend.
He does not get a single penny out of it, but writes his views regularly in letters to the editor columns that are splashed across several newspapers in the UAE and India.
From where do you get such energy? I asked Mr Ragavan.
“I enjoy what I am doing and do what I enjoy doing,” he replied.
How about your romantic life? I joked as usual.
“Hehe..Don’t ask in front of my wife,” he said blushing.
“Are you scared of your wife?”
“It is not fear, but love for my family. What about you?” he asked.
“I am the boss of my house and I have my wife’s permission to say so,” I used the cliché to escape.