Wednesday, December 16, 2009

The Suicide Genome

"It's everywhere, omnipresent, the avoirdupois overwhelming. It's a pity, unfortunately, because we could've been so much. Ah, typically mundane, insanely inane." Talking to no one in particular, he took another puff at the cig, and tried to drive one-handed in a traffic which did not forgive mistakes. And he barely made it out of there with his license- not to mention his dignity- intact.
"Ah, the beauty of youth... and what arrogance. We think we own the world, but experience as a teacher sucks." He puffed again, singeing his lips in the process. His mind didn't seem to realize that it had nearly run out, and was now trailing ash over his t-shirt.
But somewhere something registered and he dropped it, much to the chagrin of a scooter behind him. The butt flew into his eye, resulting in utter turmoil.. but that wasn't his concern, and he ploughed on resolutely.
But his bike was of a different mind. After days of puttering on fumes, it gave up. "Tchah." One syllable would rarely have held within it such meaning, but this one did. He pushed it to the petrol station which was, thankfully in sight. "Ahh... my bad luck is getting better." He got to the station and held the tank open for the juices to flow. The sight of the petrol pipe put into his mind imagery too sexual to be mentioned.
In a daze he pushed it back out, and unmindful of the fact that the tank was still open, lit a cigarette, waving away the fearful attendant. "A sky so blue, a soul so untrue. Is it worth it?" he queried, taking a peek at the open tank. Petrol fumes were already in the air.
"It's worth it," he concluded, and dropped the smoking cigarette into the tank.

Friday, December 11, 2009

Boyz willz be boyz

“Boyz! Whatz yous doingz?” The metallic, hissing voice of the teacher caught them, and their bravado vanished, like breath on a razor blade.
“Don’ts yous knows yous shouldn’tz be outz at this times?” He rasped. None of the students teased him because of his bulky six-foot frame and rippling muscle. At sixty-five, the man was old and unpredictable. The boys steeled themselves, and couldn’t prevent a lisp.
‘We were out to get some whisky, sir,’ they said. ‘Join us, sirz?’ The boy winced at the slip of te tongue, and tried to cover it up by coughing.
The old man stared at them for a long while. Then stared some more, as if considering the best way to reprimand them. Then he stared at his bag of instruments as if to find the best way to torture them- the teacher was ingenious in his ways. The boys gulped, as he fingered the sturdy cane made of who knew what material that was his constant companion in the classroom.
Then he looked up at the night. And sighed. “Whatz brandz yous boyz drinking?” he rasped back, and rummaged in his purse. The boys gave audible sighs of relief mixed with amazement.
‘You drink, sir?’ one dared to ask, and the teacher glared at him for a moment as though wondering whether a lesson was needed, then nodded.
“I drinkz Blackz Labelz.” He gave them the money and directions to his house.
“There are two more of us, sir,’ the boys dared to say. The teacher nodded, apparently resigned to the fact that he’d have to put up with a bunch of nosy students if he wanted a drink.
“Comez fastz; dinnerz is waitingz.” The boys rushed as fast as possible.

Dedicated to a teacher I was much afraid of, and in awe of during my school years and after it. The man had a terrific tendency to sleep in class while still managing to keep order by his very presence. So unpredictable was he that even the Headmaster didn’t know how to respond when he fell asleep during a meeting. He, while believing in order and discipline, also said he believed, after “laughingz my headz offz when those tenth- A boyz playedz a prankz on the new teacherz,” that “boyz willz be boyz, and thenz theyz will be menz.” 

To you, Kothawalla sir. Cheers.

Thursday, December 10, 2009


The old man leaned on his cane,coughing his guts out, then he straightened, new resolve in his eyes. Said he in a strong, yet wavering voice: "I will not die.... not until..." Cough Cough Cough "...not grandson has lost his virginity," he declared with resolve.
His daughter fainted right then and there, his grandson grinned like a gummi bear.
And old grandfather grinnned back.

Much later, playing with his six-year old grandson, he said: "But we won't let them get away with the fortune so easily, will we?"