Cheers Amigos

Happy friendship day to all amigos round the globe. Personally, this was a great friendship weekend… caught up with some old pals after quite a gap, caught a couple of decent movies, and closed the friendship day celebration with dinner at Bhikku’s. Mr. S is a gifted cook, and that mutton salaan has left my taste buds in an overly stimuated state – might have to give them a couple of sedatives to get them back under control! Actually, i’ve eaten enough today to last me a whole week, so its probably time for me to pop a couple of sedatives myself and turn in to hibernate… so if my thousands of loyal readers (yeah right!) find no updates in this space over the next week or so, you know what’s cooking… or rather, what’s digesting!

Mamaji’s Stretcher

Was chatting with HT just now, and we were recounting the glorious winter of 2000… wonderful time those were… the huge bunch of us just out of college, holed up in a hotel right next to M G Road, and three months of absolute unadulterated fun! Now, the last time HT and I went down this nostalgia trip was when we were travelling to a wedding – that of Raheem Chacha’s sis. Mamaji was there too, and boy, was that trip a load of laughs! Here’s how things went…

Started off from Bangalore on a friday night, in a luxurious Mayuri, which btw is the best bus i’ve ever travelled on. The bus conductor was this habitually cheerful fellow, who apart from sporting a sheepish grin spent the majority of the journey trying to sell us chips and biscuits, and blessing Mamaji intermittently. You heard it right… blessing Mamaji, with his fingers curved over his palm, and sheepish grin intact seemed to be the mission of his night. Mamaji, who of course was not very amused by this unexpected shower of benediction tried to throw this fellow off guard by turning around in the middle of the night, so that his feet were now resting on the pillow, and pulling a quilt over himself. Well, the serial blesser’s conviction was unwavering… he continued to bless Mamaji’s legs through the night, blessed him again when he woke up next morn, and as he alighted finally at Hyd, sent him away with a shower of blessings, enough to last a lifetime.

Our sojourn in Hyd was pretty nice – mostly uneventful, except we did get to see Asia’s *largest* bus depot, and took a ride in Asia’s *biggest* auto-rickshaw!

Now, the real fun began on the way back… we were travelling on a Paulo sleeper this time, which btw is the worst bus i’ve ever travelled on. But that night the condition of the bus didn’t matter, cos we had a nostalgia bus of our own to catch. So HT, Mamaji and I spent most of the night holed up on the top berth, which btw is meant for two people to sleep on. We spent those hours reliving each and every ROFL moment from back in 2000, much to the agony of the *uncle* on the adjacent berth, who kept muttering – “uncivilized youngsters! don’t even allow others to sleep”. Uncleji, if you happen to read this, belated but sincere apologies! Once we’d exhausted our reminiscences, or rather decided we had enough for one night, it was time to hit the sack. HT and I would sleep on the berths we were sitting on all this time, while Mamaji had a berth of his own at the front of the bus. So we accompanied Mamaji to his hallowed bedstead, and what do we find… well there was this tiny bunk, half the width of a hospital stretcher, tucked away in one corner of the bus, right opposite the driver’s seat – it almost seemed to extend right outside the front of the bus. Well, HT and I rushed back to our slightly better lodgings before Mamaji could complain, and the last we saw of him that night was the sight of him vanishing into that tiny hollow of the bunk, that seemed almost like a porthole to the nether-worlds.

Well, suffice to say that Mamaji was not amused; but to this day, HT and I split our guts laughing whenever the *stretcher* comes up for discussion… talking of ROFL moments, that was one complete ROFL night!

Brazil 2 – Germany 0

So, I’m blogging again… with an all new host and avatar. Hopefully, will actually write here a bit this time around

The Soccer World cup has of course gone by, and Muli rather belatedly gave me a cpl of jerseys… one each of Germany and Brazil. Now, i’m a big Brazil fan, and that’s the jersey I really wanted to get my hand’s on. Now that I’ve got my hands on it, here’s the problem… its a size M, which btw is one or two sizes below what I normally wear. But then, this is a Brazil jersey, and I wasn’t about to let trivial issues such as a size mis-match bother me, was I… heck, even if I were to look like Adnan Sami locked in a spandex suit… this was something worth sporting.

Well, Bhikku didn’t see eye to eye on this one… one bcos she wanted to get her hands on that sacred yellow and green, and two, cos to see eye to eye with me on any issue, she would have to stand a cpl of rulers taller. But, let’s not get into technical issues. Now, to do Bhikku justice, she presented a neat case for me handing over the spoils to her, salient points being as follows:

1. I would look ridiculous in a size M

2. Me being a guy would by default have a larger jersey/t-shirt stock in my wardrobe when compared to hers, and therefore losing one jersey shouldn’t hurt me.

 3. If I desisted from handing over the treasured T, she would proceed to choke out communication with me for all eternity

 Well, the arguments were substantial, one must agree, and after a thorough examination of circumstances both current and probable, I found it fit to counter, with three points of my own, which were as follows:

1. Its a Brazil jersey

2. Its a Brazil jersey

3. Its a Brazil jersey

Outcome… lawfully or otherwise, the much-treasured T still remains in my possession. If I can’t wear it, I plan to frame it and display it to my grandchildren as and when they arrive, as the spoils of one of the toughest battles of my lifetime.

 ps. If you are looking for a moral in this painfully idiotic story, I have just one… didn’t know it would be so easy to get a woman to zip her lips