KP IS GONE???

(Disclaimer: This is just an imaginary spoof intended only for pun and fun. Don’t take it seriously. There is no political, social and national conflict of interest involved in this post)

          Kevin Pietersen, arguably one of the legends of English cricket, has been shown the way out by Andrew Strauss, the Director of the England Cricket Board, following which there have been elaborate talks on him playing for Sunrisers Hyderabad in IPL 2015. However, he hasn’t come to India owing to an injury. This is just a creativity of the various reactions in India had KP come here.

Narendra Modi: “This is the moment the whole of India can feel proud of. I have always been advising leaders all over the world to Make In India. Now that Kevin Pietersen’s career is evidently over in England, I would want him to Make His Career in India. Since the color of the SRH jersey almost resembles Saffron, he will perfectly fit in.”

Rahul Gandhi: “This is a welcome decision by Kevin Pietersen. After all, my mother, who has her roots in Italy, was ruling India indirectly through a puppet. If someone of foreign nationality can rise to rule India, there is no point arguing that an England player cannot represent India. I sincerely hope KP will wear Indian uniform soon.”

Director K. S. Ravikumar: “Don’t worry, Kevin! See my movies, Padayappa, Muthu and Lingaa. In all the three, the protagonist would be thrown away from his house after which he would transcend in life in no time. At last, the family would reunite with a positive ending. Take Thalaivar Rajnikanth as an example. If you want more inspiration, I am ready to direct a movie starring you. You can get the feel comfortably.”

T. Rajendar: “Dei, Kevin Pietersen-u,

                          Adichiye neraya run-u;

                          Adha paakalaye Strauss kannu,

                          Nalla vaanguniya bun-u!

                          Hey dandanakka; hey danakkunakka!!

                          Un career ippo done-u,

                           But venaam tension-u;

                          Life is full of fun-u,

                          Enjoy pannu my son-u!

                          Hey dandanakka; hey danakkunakka!!”

DMK Activists: “We strongly have a doubt that Kevin Pietersen may be a Dravidian by nature. First of all, his name ends with SUN, which is our party logo. Secondly, he is playing for Sunrisers, which is also owned by the Sun Network. All these create skepticism that he may be a Thamizhan. We are researching ancient Tamil literature to find out if there is any mention of the character Kevin, in any of the epics.”

Ravi Shastri: “Oh, there comes KP in a flight to Hyderabad like a Tracer Bullet!! This is really a stunning performance by him, probably one of the best strategies in the cricketing history!”

(P.S.: People who have heard his commentaries will understand this better)

Vijay TV Gopinath: The next episode in Neeyaa Naanaa would be on Kevin Pietersen. We would be discussing everything other than his exile from England cricket as it has become the tradition in most of our episodes. KP will be called in as the Chief Guest but he wouldn’t be allowed to express his opinions freely as I am the one who is going to speak most of the time. Tune in Vijay TV for latest updates on the date and time of the episode!

A Female Fan: Ooooo, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!! I just want to spot him at least once. I’m glad that he has been turned down by the Australian Board (!!) [When mentioned that he is from England] Oh, is it? But still, I just wanna marry him!!

(The problem with some of the female fans (not all) is that they want to marry all handsome male cricketers, without even knowing from which team they are)

Kamalhassan: “I don’t say God isn’t there. But, the present condition of Kevin shows that God is not there, maybe. However, since his future with IPL is secure, I would say there is GOD. Finally, it all matters about Manidham (Humanity) and not Naathigam (Atheism) or Aathigam (Theism).”

A Normal CEGian: “What the fuck? KP is gone? How can that ever happen? Oh, how many good moments I had spent with my girlfriend with cold coffee and cheese sandwich! [When told KP is not the Knowledge Park in CEG campus but Kevin Pietersen of England, he scares me with his look] Who cares?”

{Note: I reiterate that this post has no connection with any political party. And, I am not a male chauvinist. The female fan part is included as a result of numerous girls (and ladies) showing boards, stating “
I want to marry you”, followed by the name of some player}

WHEN FATE SMILES...

          He was standing at the edge of cliff. The whiff of cold air that blew chilled his bone marrow and straightened up his tiny hairs. The entire city was visible to him from there. “I want to capture this moment once and forever”, he said to himself. He hadn’t imagined he was that brave to take such a decision. Now, he stood there, with both his arms stretched out, breathing in heavily, cherishing the moments in his heart and soul. The hawks that flew made sounds that were too shrill.

          The city looked serene and beautiful in this view, totally concealing the pollution, industrialization, urbanization and many other –tions. The buildings seemed to be built like the staircases of a neatly carved out temple, with some skyscrapers tolling over other ordinary constructions. He was surprised to find umpteen mobile towers. “How the hell then is the network not fine at my place?”, thought he, as the day’s incidents flashed through his mind.

          The morning had started off in the most disastrous way possible. He had received a call from his office, stating he would be suspended indefinitely with immediate effect because a Facebook status, which he posted, ‘tarnished’ the image and reputation of the organization where he worked, according to the higher authorities. “Oh, gosh! Bloody people, even I love my firm. How can one FB post decide my future?” In desperation, he had just broken a beautiful frame gifted by his mom on his previous birthday.

          As if to multiply his sufferings, his girlfriend had called him. “I’m not interested in this anymore. What do you think you are? You either read, take photographs or blog. Or go to that shitty monotonous office. You are very grumpy seldom cheerful. You don’t even fascinate a girl. Go and have your nuptial with your blog posts.” And, he disconnected the line. When someone spoke shit about his blogs, he didn’t take it just like that. Writing, music and she were the triumvirs of his life. He couldn’t bear she had spoken those words. “Fuck off!” he yelled, and stood there transfixed. Suddenly, tears started flowing down his cheeks and he repeated, “What’s so wrong with me that don’t interest you, dear?”

          Flurry of emotions raced through his body. He wanted a reservoir to share his feelings. Of course, moms are there. No matter if he was 22, she still fed him his favorite Stuffed Aloo Chapathi whenever he went home, she still called him ‘Child’; she still kissed and hugged him as if he was in his kindergarten. “The customer you are trying to reach is currently not reachable”, said the automated lady voice and he shouted, “Rot in the bogs, you bitch. Don’t you feel ashamed to speak to all the males around the world through phone?” And in an instant, there remained broken pieces of his mobile, one of his proudest possessions, with the components jutting out in an awkward fashion.

          In an impulse, he took the car key, dashed out of his rented apartment and drove away like a blitz. And now, standing on a steep slope that separated life and death, he wiped his tears and…..

          And, fixed his tripod there in order to take a photograph in the Hawk Eye View. Mom had said, “When you are at crossroads, call me. If I don’t pick up, do something that interests you.” Scared?? :P :P

Moral: When life presents you difficulties and hardships, Just Keep Calm and say, “Aahaan…”

ஒரு மழைத்துளியின் பயணம்

Prelude: I am just happy to publish my first Tamil piece of my blog. This I wrote during my 11th standard rainy holidays. It is a fact that schools in Cuddalore get a separate vacation through torrential rains. Thanks mom for converting the paper - written article into the digital format.

இந்த வருட மழைக்காலத்தில் நான்கைந்து நாட்கள் மட்டுமே பள்ளி விடுமுறை விடப்பட்டபோதும் அந்த வருத்தமெல்லாம்(!) மழை பெய்யும் அழகான காட்சிகளை ரசிக்கும்போது பறந்து சென்றது. பலதரப்பட்ட மக்கள் மழையினால் பாதிக்கப்படுவார்கள் என்று அறிந்தும் எனது குழந்தை மனம் மேலும் மேலும் மழை வேண்டும் என்று இயற்கை அன்னையிடம் வேண்டி மன்றாடியது.

உண்மையிலேயே இயற்கையின் காட்சியமைப்பும், கொடையும் நினைந்து, வியந்து போற்றுதற்குரியது. சோவென்ற குரலுடன் பெய்யும் மழை; பின்னணி இசைக்கு இடி; ஒளியமைப்புக்கு மின்னல்; இவற்றுடன் நடனமிடும் மரங்களும், பறந்து அங்குமிங்கும் செல்லும் பறவைகளும்..... பார்க்கப் பார்க்க மனம் இவ்வுலக வாழ்வை விட்டு மெல்ல விலகிச் செல்வதை உணர முடிகிறது. சிறிது நேரம் மெய்ம்மறந்து பார்த்தால் ஓர் நடனக் காட்சியைக் கண்டு களித்த ஆனந்தம் மனதிலும் முகத்திலும் படர்கிறது.

பள்ளி விடுமுறையானாலும் படிப்பதற்கான பாடங்களுக்கொன்றும் குறைவில்லை. ஆனால், அமர்ந்து,கூர்ந்து படிப்பதற்கான எண்ணம் வரவேயில்லை. புத்தகத்தை மூடி வைத்துவிட்டு வெளியே வந்தேன். தோட்டத்தில் அணில்களும், குருவிகளும் பல்வேறு வகையான ஓசைகளுடன் விளையாடிக்கொண்டிருந்தன. ஒரு மூலையில் ஊற்று நீர் பிரவாகம் எடுத்துக்கொண்டிருந்தது. கருமேகங்கள் சூழ்ந்து நின்று முரசறைந்து கொண்டிருந்தன.

இவற்றையெல்லாம் மகிழ்ச்சியுடன் வைத்த கண் வாங்காமல் பார்த்துக்கொண்டிருந்த வேளையில் பார்வை தற்செயலாக துணிகள் காய வைக்கும் கொடியின் பக்கம் சென்றது. அக்கொடியின் மேல் முத்து முத்தாக நீர்த்துளிகள் பூத்திருந்தன. விளம்பரங்களிலும், விழாக்களிலும் மேடைகள் வண்ண விளக்குகளால் அலங்கரிக்கப்படுவதைப் போல நீர்த்திவலைகள் அழகாகப் படர்ந்திருந்தன. அங்குமிங்குமாக அல்லாமல் அவை முறையாக ஒரு குறிப்பிட்ட இடைவெளியில் அடுக்கி வைக்கப்பட்டதைப் போல் தோற்றமளித்தன.

அதில் ஓர் நீர்த்துளி, கொடியின் விளிம்பில் ஒட்டியும் ஒட்டாமலும் கீழே தரையில் விழும் நிலையில் ஊசலாடிக்கொண்டிருந்தது. மலைப்பள்ளத்தாக்கில் விழ வேண்டிய நிலையில் கடைசி முயற்சியாக மனிதன் மெல்லிய மரக்கிளை ஒன்றைப் பிடித்துக்கொண்டு தொங்குவதைப்போல அத்துளி யாருடைய உதவியையோ எதிர்பார்ப்பது போலத் தளரும் பிடியுடன் கொடியோடு ஒட்டிக்கொண்டிருந்தது. எண்ணெய்யில் பொரித்த பூரி சிறிது சிறிதாக உப்பிப் பெரிதாகத் தோற்றமளிப்பதைப் போல அந்த நீர்த்துளி கொடியின் கீழ் ஏற்பட்ட காற்றழுத்தத்தால் உப்பியது. அதைப் பார்த்துக்கொண்டே இருந்தபோது வால்ட் விட்மன் இயற்றிய “A Noiseless Patient Spider” என்ற ஆங்கிலக் கவிதை ஒன்று நினைவுக்கு வந்தது. ஒரு மலைப் பள்ளத்தாக்கில் சிலந்தி ஒன்று வசிப்பிடத்தை அமைத்துக் கொள்வதற்காக இலக்கின்றி எல்லா இடங்களிலும் வலை பின்ன முயன்று கொண்டிருக்கும். அது போல மனித ஆன்மா தியானத்தில் இருக்கும்போது நற்சிந்தனைகள் எனும் வலையைப் பரப்பிக் கடவுளை அடைய முயற்சி செய்யும் என்று அழகாக விளக்கியிருப்பார். சிலந்தி, மனித மனம்  ஆகியவற்றைப் போலவே, அச்சிறிய மழைத்துளிக்கும் ஏதோ ஒரு தேடல் இருப்பதைப் போலவே நான் உணர்ந்தேன்.

அது கீழே விழுந்து விடாமல் இருப்பதற்காக உயிர்ப் பயத்துடன் கொடியைக் கெட்டியாகப் பிடித்துக் கொண்டிருப்பது போலவும், மறுபுறம் எப்படியேனும் மண்ணோடு மண்ணாகக் கலந்து இயற்கையுடன் ஒன்றிணைய வேண்டும் என்ற வேட்கையோடு எதிர்பார்ப்பதைப் போலவும் தோன்றியது. ஒரு குழப்பமான மன நிலையுடன் தீர்மானமாக முடிவுக்கு வர முடியாமல், இருதலைக் கொள்ளி எறும்பாகத் தத்தளித்துக் கொண்டிருந்த மழைத்துளியைப் பார்த்தபோது பரிதாபமகவும் இருந்த்து.

மற்ற எல்லா வேலைகளையும் விட்டுவிட்டு, அத்துளி கீழே விழுந்து விடக் கூடாது என்று தீடீரென வேண்டிக் கொள்ளத் தொடங்கினேன். அப்போது எதிர்பாராத விதமாக தென்னை மர ஓலைகளிலிருந்து விழுந்த மழை நீரில் ஒரு துளி, கொடியைப் பற்றியிருந்த துளியைக் கீழே தள்ளி விட்டு,அவ்விடத்தில் வந்து சொகுசாக அமர்ந்து கொண்ட்து..

   ஜூலியஸ் சீஸர் நாடகத்தில் ப்ரூட்டஸால் குத்தப்பட்ட சீஸர் அதிர்ச்சியில் உறைந்து நண்பன் துரோகியாக மாறியதை நினைத்துக் கொண்டே இறந்து விடுவது போல, தனது இடத்தை ஆக்கிரமித்துக் கொண்ட புதிய நீர்த்துளியின் செயலை எண்ணி, வெட்கி அந்நீர்த்துளி கீழே விழுந்து ஒரு நொடியில் மண்ணோடு மண்ணாகப் புதைந்தது.

       நெருக்கமான நண்பரோ உறவினரோ விட்டுப் பிரிந்ததைப் போன்ற ஏக்கத்துடன் உள்ளே சென்றேன்.

ETERNAL TURBULENCE

          Note: This happened during the start of my second semester. I had written it in paper and mom sent it to various magazines, in the hope of seeing her son's piece coming up. Perhaps, her love for me covered the fact that this one is not worth being published. So, here it is for the distinguished readers online.

          I was standing at the Saidapet bus stop with lots of hope to board a ‘good’ bus to Guindy (Well… ‘good’ refers to the bus with hot girls). My friend Kumar (name has been changed for the sake of anonymity) was becoming more and more restless. He was walking here and there with a tensed look and also seemed to be jumping up and down as if making some preparations for gymnastics in a spring – board. (Of course, I thought perhaps he had to answer nature’s call).

          “Giri, are you crazy? Another ten minutes and we’ll get fucked up in the crazy crowd. It’s peak time, dude. School children and office – goers would go mad even to hold on to a fully – loaded, jam – packed bus”, Kumar was yelling. I didn’t retaliate because I knew the mistake (of waiting there), or ‘blunder’, according to Kumar, was on my side.

          I had just got my books for my second semester from a book – bank, where the rent was far more than the original price of the books. “Choosing Mechanical Engineering has some other drawbacks like this apart from the lesser number of girls in the class, it seems”, I muttered to myself. I have to admit that I was cursing myself for asking Kumar to accompany me. He is a moron and turns his face to 180 degree whenever he spotted a hottie. But, I had no other option as there was not even one of my friends willing to come with me. Their hesitation was obvious because when some guy gets spotted in public with a bulk of books, girls believe him to be too nerdy and best try to avoid him.

          I was desperately waiting for ‘that one good bus’ to appear, when I just heard a voice behind me, “Thambi!”. I turned back to see a wrinkled, exhausted lady, who could, in any case, be easily above 70. Her eyes pleaded guilty for disturbing me. Although I stared deeply as if she had interrupted my mission of climbing Mt.Everest during the last leap, there was something that made me sympathize with her. “Ennamma?”, I enquired. I liked it very much to address elderly women with the motherly relationship.

          She said she had to return to Velacherry and was worried because of her night – blindness. She requested me to help her board the right bus, which she conveyed in due course of her stretched inspiration and expiration. I was in no mood to think about ‘cool chicks’ now. At once, I held her hands and sauntered in order to keep pace with her. I sensed there was something more than physical ailment in her.

          To get rid of her feeling tied and lonely, I asked with care and concern, “Unga kooda yaarum varalayamma?” (“Hasn’t anyone come with you, ma?”). At that instant, I didn’t know why, I heard my mom in mind – voice, “You stupid! You don’t know how to make conversations with elderly people.” Maybe, mom was right because the old woman had started weeping by then. “Sorry, extremely sorry”, I kept repeating to her. “No problem”, she said, wiping the tears with her sari. The next 120 seconds went in dumb silence. “Damn, fuck you, buddy”, I thought to myself, “You shouldn’t have asked her that.”

          It was then she started speaking up. “My son lives in Mumbai”, she said in Tamil and continued, “He is working in an MNC there. He chose his education, career and wife all by himself. His father died when he was a toddler.” At this juncture, she choked. It was evident she required some water. I bought her Kinley and she drank it earnestly. “It was I who brought him up sophisticated in spite of my being a coolie. I wanted him to become posh and rich. And..... And, that was where I had totally been absurd.”

          Again, she paused for a sob. I was seriously irritated. I don’t like people who take unnecessary breaks during the narration of a story. Mom knows it a lot. However, this was something real and saddening. So, I waited for her to go on. “My son graduated as a Mechanical Engineer from IIT – Madras two years back. He was the gold medalist then. I was on cloud nine as I imagined all my family’s burdens gone in an instant. Yes, it was all nice. He came to Chennai once in a month to take care of me. He built a new house for me at Velacherry with all luxuries. All was well until one day when he called me over phone and informed that he had married a North Indian girl. I wouldn’t have stopped him even if he had informed me earlier, would I? After all, I always wanted him to be happy.”

          I was shocked. I couldn’t bear that, really. I wished to console her, but my voice got stuck up somewhere between belly and vocal – chord. She continued, “Then, he never came back here. But, he sends money regularly. I never use it for myself and always donate it to some orphanage or temple. And, I am mulling about selling that house, too.” At this juncture, the required bus for her arrived at the stop. I was wondering whether she was left with some parts of the story or to ask her to board the bus. I didn’t want her to cry once again.

          “Amma, your bus has come”, I said in a soft voice, so as to sound serene. She boarded with the help of me and Kumar, and made herself comfortable in a window seat. She thanked me several times and finally said, “There’s no use of money, son. All this world needs is love, care and affection.” It seemed a hammer was being banged brutally on my skull several times, cursing my desire to get placed in some company, which paid me rich.

          I was brought back to reality by her rhetoric, “You are not an Engineer, right?” I suddenly turned pale and could not think of what and how to reply. “Tell me, son. Please do not say you study Engineering like my son.” A thunder rocked my cerebrum and collapsed all my nerves in the brain. “Er, well… Here, no, I, I…..”, I stammered and eventually managed, “I am doing my B.Com. I want to become an auditor.” She smiled in a contended manner, as the bus started moving. “God bless you, son”, she uttered, as I and Kumar stood there speechless, numb and aghast.

INIYA PIRANDHA NAAL NALVAAZHTHTHUKKAL!!!

         As I write this, my blog approaches the end of its first year (The site was born in May 2014, but the first post came up in June!). Robin Sharma mentions the art of thanksgiving as a virtue towards nirvana. So, I take this post as a medium to thank each and everyone who has been a part of this journey.

          First of all, I would answer some long standing questions from the readers of Whimsicality to the Core (WTTC). “Why do you actually write?” This was clearly an outcome of their annoyance and exasperation after going through my posts regularly. Frankly speaking, my reply is elementary. There is 66A for every Indian citizen (of course, it doesn’t work always. There are incidents where people got reprimanded, warned and eventually penalized. Guessing that person is left open – ended for the reader’s convenience) Further, if Udhayanidhi Stalin can dance, Chetan Bhagat can produce ‘classical bestsellers’ (and also get to judge Nach Baliye), Devi Sri Prasad can sing and Arnab Goswami can chair newshour debates, why shouldn’t I blog?

          I have received one – word feedbacks from friends, readers, non – readers, gossipers and other general people who also live. This would follow the alphabetical order: Atrocious, Blatant, Complaining, Dirty, Eccentric, Funny, Grumpy, Honest, Ireful, Jovial… and the list goes on. To make myself feel optimistic, I have highlighted the positive ones in Italics. This is similar to the names of the Android versions chronologically, eh? (Donut, Éclair, Froyo, Gingerbread, Honeycomb, Icecream Sandwich, Jellybean, Kitkat and Lollypop)

          Irrespective of all these, WTTC has made me what I am today. Open to challenges and new tasks, open to confront any situation (still, I tend to break down sometimes), daring to face anything, be it physical or psychological, and opine without hesitation. If this is called short temper, I am the angriest person in the Earth. If my honest posts have made me a ‘lunatic’, I don’t really care. After all, I don’t hide anything from anyone nowadays. Being very frank gives me good sleep. Be it proposing to a girl or pointing out the flaws in someone, I try to be very straight. If this is crazy, I am the most insane man in this world.

          Coming to my well wishers, I am grateful to Jai Karthik, whose blog inspired me. He is one person, who can kindle anyone to write merely on seeing the nuances in his posts. (I would advice my dear readers to visit this guy’s blog. http://rejuvenated-me.blogspot.in) What started as a timepass in my 9^th grade in the form of a blog on cricket and got discontinued came to life again only because of him. Thank you very much, JK!

          Mom and dad… I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to right whatever I wished. And also for being the first readers of all my ‘articles’, irrespective of their being witty like Cyrus Broacha or shitty like Chetan Bhagat. (Note that both of them are CB. Popup: Cyrus Broacha is the man who does The Week That Wasn’t in CNN – IBN) I have been able to express some of my concealed truths and facts via WTTC to them. Equal to mom and dad comes Paavannan Sir, whose mindboggling fragmentation and analysis of my writings, wow me always. Inspite of his busy work and writing schedule, it’s a wonder that he takes time off for my sake.

          Praveen Sam Sir… My English Professor in the second semester, who wanted the students to learn rather than read. Raja… I should have been gifted to have him as my friend. His rare but invaluable suggestions have shaped me as a human being every now and then. Thanks, mate! Ranjith Anna, who encouraged my writing and showed me the various other possibilities that are available at CEG with respect to writing. Guna Anna, who always remains one of the active commentators of my blog.

          These are my first set of gurus, who paved the way for me to get acquainted to many people. If some 50 – 60 odd people are reading WTTC today, it is because of these people. I would remain indebted forever.

          I would also thank Prasath, whose inputs have helped a lot in many ways; Prathab and Pratheeb, the twins, who have been instrumental in checking me from speaking and writing filth directly; Vidya Madam, the staff who handled Environmental Science, and continues to comment in every post I publish ever since I gave her the link; Amarnath, who would make a critic very easily. His inferences and honest reviews are overwhelming; Dinesh, Anuj Raaj, Prithiv Gowtham, Prem Kumar, Dharunraj and Sankar Subramanian, who have never made me feel handicapped without a laptop at hostel. In fact, I should have used Anuj’s laptop ten times more than him and Dinesh’s almost equal to him; My roommate Iqbal, whose behavior has had unbelievable effect on me and WTTC. His spontaneous comedies and take – it – easy attitude have chiseled me accurately. Thanks da!

          My readers, starting from Khalith, Hariprakash, Imam, Mithilesh, Saravana, Druva Anna, Santosh Anna, Karthik Raja Anna, Mahesh, Harish Anna, Aravind, Jaffer, Sai Krishna, Sidharth, Srini, Srinath, Aadhil, Dinesh Mahankali, Arjun, Paventhan, Reuben Mathew, Anjali Akka, Kavitha Akka, Krishnamurthy, Shriram, P K Aravinth, Tharunya, Sai Vaishnavi, Monica, Ganesh Uncle, Arjun Anna, Srikanth Anna and many others. Sorry guys, if I have left (m)any. I express my sincere apologies. I would always remember you guys as the diamonds that made the crown called WTTC.

          With this, I conclude here by saying that the people mentioned here are the worst sinners of the planet, because they should have to stand my blog throughout their life. Ellam Vidhi Payan!