Saturday, July 30, 2011

The Annual Report


Today I finished a year of blogging, and I am pleased to present to you guys, the first Annual Report.

My most read posts:

My 6th May 2011 blog, ‘Synopsis of an F grade movie’ remains the undisputed leader with 200 hits. The tally is akin to what we saw post Asian Games 2010, with China on top, undisputed, leaving the real competition between teams fighting for next two positions. China, had medals count of 416, which was twice as that of South Korea, which came second and had 232.

All I had to do was put three raunchy pics of Shakeelachechi and look what it has done to my blogsite? I am getting hit left right and centre!!

It concludes that Sex sells for sure, and that if you have the right Sex Cells you'll be able to sell yourself for sure! These results are a slap right across the faces of those guys who felt that this post was too crass to receive any attention at all.



My frequency:

My blog writing frequency was bad initially, that was till end of May this year. But look how it has picked up. Thanks to the blogpost ‘The weekend shopping’ and the comments and ‘FB likes’ you guys gave on it and its subsequent parts, I was encouraged to write more.

Special thanks to my friend Jee, for his great advice on breaking up my blog posts into little sections. It really did the trick.

Thanks for the encouragement, ye all!



My friends on blog:
 
Initially the website used to call them followers, but now it is members, which I think sounds better. The members list says that I have 11 in all.

Actually out of the 11, 2 are my wives. Don’t get mistaken I haven’t taken a second one. Elizabeth Jacob and Tara are both the same. She is just doing her bit, following my scribbling with twice as much dedication as the others.

Thanks to ‘Unni’ (Again, that’s my wife!) and to the other members, Jacob ‘Jee’ Varghese, Riji ‘Shiny’ Jacob, Sheena Sunil, Sonia ‘Chichu’ Ranjith, Anisha ‘Kuku’ Prakash, Vidya ‘Bidia’ Rajaram, Waseem Khan (the first member), Yogesh Mhadolkar and Jinas Khan.  

You guys surely make this website look better.


Who’s reading?

I have got 3,512 hits so far, and that’s a very encouraging number, considering my standard of writing. It converts to an average of just over 9.6 hits per day, which is very encouraging.

Thanks for those 12 votes you guys have given me on the website www.blogwriteraward.com. Well, I am in no way competing with anyone. The guy on the top has 13,269 votes, but this little number on my website matters a lot to me. It tells me that at least 12 people think that I can write and well enough to entertain someone. I am happy for that.

I hope that in the future I get better ideas and that I'll be able to sharpen my pen, so that you guys have something better to read. I am not a person who loves to read, so I am actually asking for a lot, when I ask my friends on FB to read my posts. Thanks to all those who have displayed the patience to read it, and more thanks for your comments; they have been very constructive.



So how much did I make?

If we are talking money, then I’ve made $5.19 so far. Thanks to all those guys who clicked on those risqué adverts post my most popular post.

If we are talking in terms of friends, I’ve done much better. Through the blog I’ve interacted with most of my friends, their wives and few cousins too. 


By now, most of you know how my house looks like, what my kids talk, what they do, what my wife cooks and above all, how bad it is when I break wind.

Thanks ye all. MUAHHHH!



Tuesday, July 26, 2011

The Star from above



The star from above



No, she is not a lady, she is the sea
When I look into her eyes, I almost drown
When she is angry, it is like a wave lashing
Her laugh is a cool wave, kissing the sunny sand
Every time I touch her, she gives me a treasure
Shells and pearls of joy in good measure


No, she is not just a sea
No, she is not the sea, she is also the land
Her raiment is, but a river that flows merrily into the sea
Through the valley, along the hills,
And the landscape, that I adore
Her ornaments are, but like fruits on a tree
Fresh in aroma, they make a sumptuous entree


No, she is not just the land or the sea
No, she is not the land or the sea, she is also the sky
With her sunny smile and those deep onyx eyes
and her long black tresses like the dark breezy night,
heavenly and mystical, she watches from above
She roars and rains, yet brings joys abound
Quenches my thirst and instils life on ground


No, she is not just the sky.
Neither the sea, or the land nor anything earthly that I know

Blessed, content, grateful and overjoyed for this endow,
I raise my arms and thank, the only God I know

“Thank you Lord,
 for blessing my house, with this amazing star from above”

Monday, July 25, 2011

Can I tell you a story? 2/2


Part 2 – Yohan’s Story

“There was a little boy, who lived in the countryside, very far, far away from the city” I started.

He interrupted asking “What is the name of that boy?”

“You suggest” I replied back, to which he asked back “Is he a good boy or a bad boy?”

I thought for moment and said “He is a good boy”, to which he instantly replied back “Then let his name be Kevin”

I thought again for a second and said “Actually he is a bad boy, but….ehh…..” to which, before I could finish, he interrupted with the same vigour and suggested “Then let his name be Yohan” (Yohan, according to him is the baddest, meanest and most notorious boy on earth!)

I resumed with my story telling “This boy lived in a nice single house with a sloping roof and a chimney on top and around his house was a lawn, green like a beautiful carpet, decorated with small shrubs bearing beautiful flowers and there were trees, which had big juicy mangoes and apples on it. Behind his house was a big barn, in which live cows and sheep and goats and pigs and all such wonderful animals and also a poultry house with hens and turkeys and ducks. Nearby his house was a beautiful little lake, where he and his father would usually go out for fishing”

“This boy lives in a farm house, no Papa?” He interrupted again.

I said “Yes” and continued “This boy was a very naughty boy. Every day, early in the morning he would go to the barn with his sister to get milk from the cow and while his sister milked them, he would hurt the cows by twisting their tail and kicking them on their legs and punching them on their body. It hurt the cows, but since the boy was a small little cute boy, they did not kick back”

“He is just like Yohan no Papa?” He interrupted again.

I replied “Sort of, but Yohan is not a bad boy. He doesn’t hurt animals. He is kind to animals. Didn’t you see how he was playing with that cat the other day?”

He didn’t buy my argument. He was in no mood for that. He just replied back “Okay, then?”

I continued with the story “He would do the same with the sheep, hurt them by hitting them with his stick, when he’d go around with his dad to graze them, and not only that, he’d pluck the flowers and throw them on the ground and then on those poor trees he’d draw with his stick and punch nails. He would even hurt the poultry, by throwing stones and water at them. The animals were all sad. Even the fishes were sad. He would put all the garbage into the lake and that hurt the fishes”

He interrupted and added his expert comments “You know Papa, animals and plants are not manmade. They are natural. They are made by God. And so they have life and feelings. Teacher told that we should not hurt them. It is not a machine. A computer is a machine. Even toys are machines. If we can break them, it is okay, they will not feel hurt”

I was about to begin with my lecture on how to maintain toys, when he added “Then Papa, what happened?”

And so I continued “This went on for many days, and all the animals and birds and plants were all sad. But this little bad boy kept hurting them”

He interrupted again “This Yohan is a bad boy only no Papa?”

“Okay” I said and continued “Then one night, when the boy and his parents were asleep, all these barn animals and fowl and plants gathered in the lawn. They decided that they would not take this behaviour from that boy anymore. They were angry, very angry and there they decided to go on a strike”

He interrupted and enquired “What is a strike Papa?”

For a moment I thought, “If only we were living in Kerala, that would have been a very silly question!” but anyways, explained to him what a strike was. I am not sure if he understood or not. He was more interested in listening to the story and so said “Then Papa, what happened?”

I continued “The next day, when his sister went to milk the cows, there was no milk coming. She tried and tried, but no milk at all. Then she went to the goats and the sheep. They also stopped giving milk. The sheep stopped growing hair, and there was no wool for them to make sweaters for the winter. The fowl stopped giving eggs. The plants stopped flowering and the trees? There were no fruits on the trees either. Even the sky stopped raining and there was no water. The lake dried and the fishes went deep inside under the ground and then from there into another lake, far away”

As I said all this, I observed that Kevin was getting concerned. His face was turning pale and his otherwise cheerful smiley face was turning into a sad smiley.

I added “Yohan and his family had nothing to eat or drink. Everyday this little boy would ask his sister and mother for food, but there was no food in the house. They didn’t have any water either to drink or bathe. The beautiful farmhouse turned into a desert. They became weak and shabby; they couldn’t walk or even get up and stand on their feet. Since they didn’t have any energy they could not maintain their house, and slowly their house started crumbling and falling down. They no more had a safe haven to protect themselves from the summer heat and the cold chilly winter. They didn’t have any warm clothes for the winter too. All the plants and animals died one by one”

I took a break and turned my head to Kevin, to see what his reaction was. He was stunned. His eyes were watery and they were looking through the walls, focussed into another world outside that bedroom. Although we were in a cosy air conditioned bedroom, I could see little droplets of perspiration emanating on his forehead. He was still, like he was actually in a desert experiencing/observing the peril, taking place right in front of his eyes.

In a faint broken voice he asked “Then?”

I continued “Then, one day that little boy Yohan prayed to God, and asked God for forgiveness. A beautiful fairy appeared. She had a magic wand in her hand. She pointed up above the sky and she said….”

And before I could finish, my lad jumped and screamed “Abra ka dabra…. Yeyyyyy” with a big happy smile on his face and an unstoppable bout of laughter. He was happy, extremely happy.

I added. “Everything was back as normal. From then onwards, the farm boy was a good boy, he took good care of all the animals and fowl and also the plants and trees. He kept his house clean and neat and even the fish came back and they would joyfully swim with him. They all were his friends now”

“Is that the end?” He asked, to which I replied “Yes”

He had his final comments “You know Papa, Yohan is a good boy. He is my brother. I love him” And as he said those little words, his eyes were moist and his hands clasped mine tight thankfully, as if I had just saved his little brother from a big calamity and as if he was thanking me in return.

He added further “Your story is beautiful Papa. It was very nice. I liked it. But my story was a powerful story. It had fighting and attacking and aliens. But your story was also good”

I was looking into his little eyes and beginning to get mesmerised by his pure innocence, when he interrupted “What is the moral of your story Papa?”

I said “The moral of this story is that we must take care of our nature and all the beings in it”

He replied “Like we should not hurt other living beings also no?”

“Yes, exactly”, I jumped in, and reminded him “Like if Papa wants to watch cricket, you should not force Papa to put cartoon, or when Papa is sleeping, you should not jump on Papa and try to wake Papa up. That is also hurting. Okay? That’s also not good manners”

Sensing his chance, he retorted “If I want to watch TV, can I go now?”

“Smart boy” I said in my mind, but told him “No! This is sleeping time. You got to sleep now”

I sensed that he was now brimming with love and affection for his little brother. With a humble and innocent look on his face, he pleaded “I want to go to Yohan, Papa”.

That did the trick, and I let him go.

I no time he jumped off the bed and headed to the living room. I lied down there, brimming with pride and my chest fully blown. I was content. I had just told a story to my seven year old lad, which made him realize how much he loved his little brother.

From the bedroom I could sense that Kevin was now trying to give hugs and kisses to his little brother, to which Yohan retorted back screaming “Go go go! Nooooo!” and “Amma, Chetan pushing pushing Amma”

In no time they were back to normal; fighting, screaming at each other, shouting “Attack Attack”. Kevin was back to his normal self, screaming in return “Yohan, you are a bad boy”

Aahhh! Boys!!


Sunday, July 24, 2011

Can I tell you a story? 1/2


Part 1 – Kevin’s Story

Yesterday evening my friends from across the globe forced me to end our three and a half hour long skype call, recommending me to go and doze off, reminding that I had to attend work the next day. I am sure they did that just because they wanted me to go away and let them free for their much awaited weekend siesta.

Since I had woken up only past noon that day and since I had already exceeded my quota of snoozing for the week, I was taken wide eyed and awake. After I had failed to induce sleep by forcing myself through all my known means, finally to kill time, I logged on to blogger and posted one of my first works in Malayalam, yet I was still undone.

Back in the Master Bedroom (Where I am otherwise banned entry), I lied down still, breathing heavily and staring into the Cimmerian emptiness of the room with my wide open eyes. This exercise transported me away, not to Slumberland, but back in time, some two weeks ago and just a couple of days before my wife and kids left for India.

I lied down straight on my back and on my right laid my seven year old lad Kevin, sideways facing me and resting his head on to my biceps. His right leg and arm over my tummy and chest respectively.

He asked “Papa, are you feeling sleepy?”

I replied “Yes. It is already two thirty in the night”.

That night we were busy packing our carton full of gifts and souvenirs for our many friends and relatives in India.

“But I am not sleepy Papa” he came back.

“Kevin, it is already five o’ clock in India right now. If you don’t sleep in time, you’ll be all the time sleepy sleepy when you are in Thrissur and will not be able to go and play with your friends at all. Do you want it to be like that?” I asked back.

“No papa” He answered, and further enquired ”Do I have school tomorrow?”

“No you don’t. But I have to go to office, and I am tired so lets just go to sleep” I replied and I closed my eyes.

“I am not sleepy Papa. Can I go and watch TV? Yohan is watching TV” (Yohan is his three year old brother)

“No” I said with my eyes closed and added “Yohan was sleeping since evening. He just woke up now”

“Then Papa, can you tell me a story?”

“Kevin, I am so tired…. No story telling… please” I said in a tired tone and added “Just close your eyes and sleep. Remember how Special agent OSO helped that girl sleep today. Just close your eyes, take a deep breath and slowly you’ll fall asleep. Try that”

Listening to my latest advice, he went into that attention mode, lying on his back with his arms straight on his sides and started breathing heavily with his eyes closed, as if he were meditating.

A moment later he recoiled back to his original position and said “I am not sleepy. Can I tell you a story, Papa?”

I said “Okay” and thus began his story telling. Knowing Kevin very well, I knew what to expect, but this one was a bit different. The experience was akin to being caught in the eye of a tornado.

He started “There is a boy. He has special powers. His name is Ben Tennyson. And he has a sister. Her name is Gwen and his friend’s name is Kevin Levin. Kevin Levin has a green colour car. That is a super car, like a super super car. It can shoot and go fast like zoooo zooo zooo” as he said this, his arms and legs fidgeted rapidly over my body almost crushing my balls and breaking my bones. Little did I know that this was just the tip of the iceberg? The big hitting was yet to come.

He continued “You know Vilgax. He is the biggest enemy of Ben10 and he captured Gwen and Kevin Levin and put them in prison. And you know he wants the omnitrix so he wants to catch Ben10 and kill him and be most powerful. But Ben10 has the omnitrix and he can become aliens and attack him. And they fight” With that I started receiving blows from all the sides.

He continued with blows, and kicks. I just lied there still, with my eyes closed and my hand protecting my cullions, lest they’d break like walnuts under a hammer

“Doo ddaaa doom dahshh ….omnitrix…. fight … attack …. Boom disshhh …. Humungasaur ….. smash….. spider monkey…. Bhoom dash  dooo daa doo diiiii …. Echo echo …. Kooooo…. Attack attack…. Doodda dooda doom doom…..and then Vilgax falls into the fire and they come back to earth and they meet grandpa”

I knew that the story had just ended, but I had no clue of what happened to me or how the climax went about. I did feel a few blows amidst all that din and yelling.  It was like I had gone for a massage and the guy at the parlour put me into a washing machine drum and rolled me till I was all mixed up and vibrated. My head was still resonating like tongs and everything around was blurred for a few seconds even after he had finished the final act of the story.  I had lost my sleep.

He finally told “That was the end” and asked “How’s my story?”

I just replied back “I was good” with a silent “Aaahhhh” and “ouch, it hurt”

“Do you know what is the moral of this story?” Kevin asked.

I didn’t want to get into the complications and so just replied to him “You tell?”

“Ben10 always saves the day. Good guys always win. Bad guys always lose” he concluded and asked me “Can you tell me a story, Papa?”

I thought, ’this was my chance to give back a little piece of advice to this lad’ and so I started.


Saturday, July 23, 2011

Libraryiley pustakam


This is my first take at Malayalam.  Being a fraud mallu guy I cannot write in Malayalam… and therefore this piece of work comes in manglish with a translated version in English below. I guess whatever I’ve written is grammatically correct. If not, please do have a good laugh and then let me know through your valuable comments as to where I’ve gone wrong. Anyways, accept my ‘wwon thhouzzendd endd wwon yappologies een advanzz’


Libraryiley pustakam

Libraryil vayikuvan pustakam paleydum undayirunnu. pakshey. avan kannu vecchado? Neenda mudiyulla cheruppakkaariyaaya aaya aa librarianinne thanne.

Che Guevarayude pustakatinullil mayilpiliyum rosapoovum vecchu avan aa librarianindey manasil kayari paarnu.

Aaaru maasamollam neenda ee premakaalathinullil avar oru pustakapuzu aayi maari. Avar valarey isthtapetta our pustakatiney poley anyonam veendum veendum vayichu rasichhu.

Avasanam, vayichu maduttapol, aa pustakam avanu vendand aayi.

Avalo?  Pala rathrikal kanuneeril kulichhu.  Avasanam oru mudthurna pravasiye ketti anya naatilekku kappal kayari
.
Mazayulla oru rathriyil ottapittu aparadhabodhavumaayi irrikumbol avan libraryiley aa pustakam aadyamayi vaayichu. Anganey, avaan oru viplavakari aayi maari.




The Book from library

The library had many good books to read, but the one that his eyes desired was that longhaired nubile librarian.

Through the roses and peacock feathers hidden amidst pages of a Che Guevara book, he finally found a place in her heart.

In a love affair that lasted for six months, they transformed into a bookworm. They found ecstasy reading each other repeatedly like a favourite book.

Finally, after reading again and again, he was bored and he didn’t want that book anymore.

What could she do? She bathe herself in her tears many a nights and finally got married to an old man from a distant land and boarded ship for her new home.

Later, on a rainy night as he sat there alone sulking with guilt, he read that book from the library for the first time ever. That is how he became a revolutionary.


Thursday, July 21, 2011

Winds of Change


Winds of Change


Winds of change,
Lift the carpet
Take me far,
Take me away

To my home,
That heavenly place
For I am alone,
Castaway

Drop me there,
In my mother’s lap
Where I rocked,
Until, yesterday

Blow this way,
Lift me up
Take me away,
On a holiday

Take me to life,
Bring me love,
Filled with memories,
 Of my heyday

And when I am done,
And back to life
Throw me back,
Into this desert,
Near another mirage,
Faraway



Tuesday, July 19, 2011

My tribute

This is my blog page. This is my website. This is my life. Yes, this place is about I, I and only I. But there are these days, when one should stop talking about oneself and talk about someone else. This is such a day.

Today, 19th July 2011, is my beloved Father-In-Law’s fourth death anniversary.

John Paul M


A great foodie, a connoisseur of wines, a technocrat, a family man,a great dad, a responsible dad, a kind dad, a farsighted patriarch, a jolly good friend and above all, a Rock Star.
 
Rocked our world; now rocking in heaven.

During my initial days in Dubai, I was staying at my In-laws and learnt most of the complex and 'difficult to master' life lessons just merely by observing him. To me, he was not just my wife’s father, but much more than that. To me, he was and will always be my greatest teacher ever, my Guru who taught me what no one teaches - ‘How to live life?’

He taught me that the only way to raise a winning family was the positive way; by encouraging, supporting and giving endlessly and not by bickering and rebuking on frivolous issues like ‘why the floor is not mopped?’ or ‘why the TV is not dusted?’ or ‘why the dishes are not yet washed?’

He taught me how to give time to one’s family. While at home, I’d never seen him tense or worked up with office issues. The moment he entered home, his work mobile would be turned off and he would have actually shut off his office. Everyday he would take time out to talk to each person in the family and even play with the little kid.

He taught me how to make ones kids responsible and guide them to stand firm on their own feet, and then, when they are ready, how to stop whining and just let them go.

He taught me, that one should not live his life to please or impress others or to just gain accolades and (false) praise, and that one should live his life within his own means and comfort zone without bothering of what others would think. Money and ‘lifestyle’ is least important.

He taught me, how to value and keep those good old friends; how to party with buddies all night long and simultaneously make that event into a great family gathering. His best friends, till his last days, were the ones from his initial bachelor days. He graduated in 1971(a year before I was born!), and we share the same alma mater and am informed that he was a key player in reviving the RECCA alumni at Sharjah, UAE.

He taught me that one should plan things in advance and plan it well. It helps.

He taught me something that most dads don’t know and something that’d be very useful for me in the future; that ‘when a boy grows up, you got to treat him like a man, not a boy’.

He taught me that a true master gets work done through compassion and respect and not coercion and fear. In his household, be it a driver, or a housemaid, or a coconut picker, they are all treated like one in the family.

He also taught me, where to draw the line and how to be assertive when you have to assertive. ‘Just because I am drunk and smoking, and let you smoke in front of me doesn’t mean that you can …….’

Above all, he is the one who taught me the biggest lesson of my life ‘How to kick my inhibitions on its butt and live life without any restraint’


Dear papa,

How I wish that I could beat my chest and wail out loud to the world, "how much I miss you"; but I know, I shouldn't, ‘cause something tells me that it is you, who has come back into our family as little Yohan.

Thank you for coming back. Love you forever.

Sweety


Sunday, July 17, 2011

Playing with Yohan’s balls

Today, immediately after I finished my mandatory office hours, I headed to the Car Workshop at the Industrial Area. Gave my car for repair and then from a nearby mallu cafeteria had my favourite glass of authentic mallu saada diagonal chaaya (kerala style tea), packed a few sandwiches, got hold of an unauthorized taxi and headed straight to the Al Sadd Football Stadium (Yes, the same one which has those butt cooling AC outlets just behind the chairs).

For those who don’t know, today was match day. It was an India versus Qatar tie, with both countries full fledged football teams playing a friendly match.



No so long ago I was at the same stadium with my family to watch the under 23 lads from both the countries battling it out for the Olympics qualifiers. We lost that match badly, hitting just one goal against their three. Today’s one was wonderful though; India won with two goals to one. And I must say, the men in blue played wonderfully. Actually, even the lone goal which was awarded to the 2022 World Cup hosts was a no-goal. Anyways, we won and I am happy for my country. I enjoyed the match thoroughly and I missed my boys terribly. It would have been wonderful if they were here, especially Yohan, who is a great fan of Kik (Football) and Bakitiball (Basket Ball).

Yohan, unlike his elder brother Kevin, who is a bit slow with sports related matters, has been kicking a football since he was crawling. He is an ardent lover of sports related activities and ‘balls’ in particular. You ask him what toy he wants and unarguably his answer (till the movie Cars 2 released) would be “Vava wan ball”, indicating that he wants us to buy him a ball (now, his liking is slowly shifting to cars).

Since I got back home after the match, I’ve been thinking about my lads and playing with their balls at home, bucketing and dribbling them around the house shouting “We did it, yeyyyy!” with every basket and reminiscing how they’d jump over me to wake me up on those lazy Friday mornings and how little Yohan would pester me later to play football and basketball with him.

I miss them so much, and unlike the past two days, my belly isn’t really content enough to shut my shop off and so here I am writing a blog on Yohan’s balls, bringing them to the world.

Here they are; not all, but most of them.

The Cars Hopping Ball. The scribbling on it is not an artwork,
it is his signature stating that this one belongs to him.
The Lady Bug.

The Spidey Pool Ball
Bakitiball (Yo's Basket Ball)


Yo's Hand Ball

Yo's Foot Ball

The talking Alphabet Ball.

The soft foot ball

The 'glow in the night' Fluorescent ball

The hard Crazy ball.
A handy weapon to attack his elder brother
And those plastic balls, which are part of his weaponry.
Used mostly to ambush a sleeping elder brother
in revenge of the day's bullying.

Cricket bat and ball

Little rubber football

Golf Ball

The Cricket 'Tennis' Ball.
Always reminds dad of that fateful day when he was
playing cricket with little Yo and learnt this lesson the
hard way 'Always wear a groin guard when a charged up
mallu kid is bowling to you'

The micro mini ball

That rubberized crazy ball

And finally, his Dad's 14 balls; all tennis.



Talking about balls, I am reminded of this wonderful late 70’s AC/DC song. Enjoy!







That was a lot of balling around; it is already half past two. Let me go and hit the bed now. 

Bye folks. And again, enjoy.