Hi everybody. Am back. But I got a new blog now. Decided to let Monkey Business rest in peace, considering that it's almost 10 months since it last breathed. My new shack's going to be here. Do drop in for a nip :)

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Something fast.

I get up from bed, my brain still groggy from sleep. Mom's tugging at my blanket - a smile playing on her face. "There are people waiting outside for you."
I mutter something under my breath. Waking up at seven thirty on a cool Sunday morning is not something I fancy. But then, don't want to keep them waiting, whoever they are...
I stumble into the living room and peek through the window and horrors! There are five people outside - and their messed up faces make them look like zombies right out of Dawn of the Dead!
AARGH! I forgot: It's HOLI today!
Beneath the thick layers of yucky colour are five friends of mine - waiting to splatter me with colour so I could join the great majority. But no, I could do without all this...
I shake my head slowly: Nahi yaar, Aaj nahin aa sakta. Tabiyat kuch theek nahin hain (No guys, can't come out today. My health's not all that fine).
At the head of the gang is Sushil Dubey: the biggest and strongest of the lot. And he looks angry. "Hum kya ullu lagte hain, %$#^@? Jaldi bahar aa... ya hum andar aa jaayenge! (Do we look like idiots to you, &%@$? Come out or we will have to come in).
The rest of them scream out similar threats. But I just smile.
Because ours is the toughest door in the area... nice, sturdy and certainly stronger than Sushil can ever get. They are just bluffing - it would take more than just a big bad wolf act and a huff-and-a-puff to bring my door down. Plus, my dad's the principal of the local school - they wouldn't dare try anything and piss him off.
Suddenly, he is there - my father. And (c**p) he ... he is opening the door for them!
And as my so-called friends pounce on me and start painting me red, I hear my dad mumble something that sounds curiously like: Boy shouldn't stay indoors on a day like this.
Anyway, that's the magic of Holi. You get bitten by the vampires and you become one yourself. Soon, I find myself in the great outsides with the very gang that has devoured me - searching for other dry souls on the land.
We tour around the place, armed with powder and waterguns, each deadlier than the other. And all around us, there's not a single thing that is not drenched in colour. Wow! I think, This is life! Good I crawled out of bed!
Down the road stand some figures in black. And they are stopping passersby and heaving them into a huge mudhole, painstakingly dug on the side of the road.
They have just thrown a little girl in. The child flounders in the waist-deep slush while her tormentors yell loudly: Bura Na Maano, Holi Hain! (Take it cool, it's Holi). Tough.
But well, the question is ... do we venture down that road or not? Sandeep says no, we don't have to fight them. I agree. Don't have much of a stomach for violence. Then we all look at Sushil - he's the leader of the pack; he makes the decisions.
And he says Chal.Dekhte hain kya bigaad lenge woh log(C'mon, let's see what they can do).
There are seven of them. And all of them about a foot taller than us. But now there's no turning back.
The bad boys look at us. We look at them. And then Sushil tells them in no uncertain terms that agar rang lagaana hain to laga do... par agar keeched pe aa gaye tho maar khaaoge! (You can put colour on us if you like. But if you try to throw us in that pit, you're going to get whacked).
The guys look at each other - and slowly give way.
We walk down the road, triumph glowing on our faces. Dinesh is the happiest of them all: "We showed those dumbasses! Yeah!". But Sushil doesn't say much - it was a gamble, and we had pulled it off.
We drop by the houses of other friends. Some of them are already drenched in colour, running around the place menacingly - while the others sit tight in their houses, still virgins.
We do the honours. And our army grows and grows... first twenty, then forty, until we are the most formidable force in town.
There's a party on at BCD colony, and we join in. Bhaang is available in plenty and today is a day when the elders won't mind us getting tipsy. Probably because they are busy getting drunk themselves. Ha!
Glass after glass of ale, and our spirits start soaring with amazing rapidity as we recount our adventures and misadventures of the day. Some speak about how they had managed to escape every waterbaloon that was thrown at them while others, in crude terms, exclaim how good it would have been if everyday was like this one.
And then, this guy joins in. You can't see much of him because of the colour, but it just isn't enough to hide the evil smirk on his face. "Tell you guys! Holi is the best time to do things to these babes around the place ... And they can't do anything about it because, man, Holi mein sab chalta hain! (because... during Holi, everything goes)."
And then he starts saying how he had 'done' stuff to one of them, who, incidentally, happened to be one of our classmates.
Sushil reaches out and a clap of thunder later (read slap) later, all is well with the world. And we don't even want to think about it anymore.
It's afternoon already and we are homeward bound. And boys being boys, we jump around and punch each other playfully until every unpleasant thought is out of our minds. And lots of bruises and laughs later, we reach our respective destinations.
Dad opens the door, and he simply smiles to see me tottering around from the bhang-effect. And as I make my way into the bathroom, I notice that my parents are also painted in war colours, albeit a little more discreetly. Cool, I think as I scrub myself vigorously in the bathroom, Even dad's into Holi.
It's evening and Sushil comes-a-calling. I step out of my house and we start out on our daily walk through the countryside.
Then I tell him what I think of people who use a fun-thing like Holi for their own perverted purposes. Sushil just smiles and says,"People like them are always going to be there. But then, that does not change the fact that Holi is beautiful - and meant to be kept that way."
I nod. And stare at the dwindling ball of fire overhead. It will be night soon, but we have to enjoy the sunset while it lasts.

NOTE

My friend, Sushi Dubey, died recently due to malaria. This post is dedicated to his memory.

Twelve-year-old Jonah looked ill at ease. The Math teacher peered through his gold-rimmed glasses and asked the only question he could under the circumstances: "Jonah, why didn't you do your homework?"
The boy fidgeted, then - with a stony expression - said, "I'm sorry, Professor Jenkins... the dog ate my homework."
The classroom tittered gleefully.
Jenkins was taken aback. He had been heard too many lies in his lifetime, but never one like this.
"Jonah... if you HAVE to give an excuse, could you at least take the effort to give a slightly plausible one. This one is so old!"
But the boy just kept staring at him, as if he was actually speaking the truth. Which made Jenkins want to pinch himself and wake up to a tasty cup of morning coffee.
"You are joking, aren't you?" he asked the kid. But he just shook his head.
I don't have to take this, thought Jenkins. But because he regarded himself as one of the kinder teachers around, he did not want to give Jones the spanking he deserved. "Okay son, you win. But make sure you get it done tomorrow."
The boy just nodded his head.

THE NEXT DAY

"Jonah, why didn't you do your homework?"
The boy still had the same stony-faced expression. "I'm sorry, Professor Jenkins. The dog ate my homework again."
Jenkins lost his temper. "Boy! I can't take this anymore. Tomorrow you bring your homework... or your parents! Or, for God's sake, think up another excuse!"
Jonah just nodded. Which made the teacher angrier, and he shouted: "REMEMBER! TOMORROW I NEED THE HOMEWORK - OR YOUR PARENTS!"
The boy nodded again.

THE THIRD DAY

Jonah brought his parents to school. Something that Jenkins hadn't expected.
The father was a man in his thirties, characterised by an ugly mustache and an even uglier tie. The mom was oldish; Jenkins suspected she might be at least fifteen years older than her husband. "Ah.. certainly a fitting reason for that pathetic creature's existence," thought the teacher unkindly.
It was the father who spoke up. "So mister Jenkins, Jonah said you wanted to speak to us."
Jenkins cleared his throat noisily, then looked at the boy. His face was still in stone mode.
"Well, mister and missus White... your son has put me in a very peculiar position. For the last few days, he hasn't being doing his homework. Instead, he prefers to give excuses that are obviously quite - well - false."
"Really?" the father said, turning his angry eyes towards Jonah, "The little bastard! Just wait till he gets home and I ll show him what. He needs a whipping real bad, he does."
The mother, who was powdering her face till now, seemed to find this funny. "Ha ha, my husband can do as he wish. But he sure know where the kid learnt his lying from."
Mr White turned towards her. "And what exactly did you mean by that, lady?"
The lady resumed powdering her face, which was now adorned by a particularly detestful smirk. "Nothing, my dear," she hissed, "I am just suggesting that Jonah must be learning them from that young lady you always go to in the evenings."
Mr White shouted something really offensive at her, and she screamed back. And Jenkins started feeling really left out.
He buried his face in his hands.

THE FOURTH DAY

Jenkins woke up that morning with Jonah on his mind. "That ass of a kid won't bring his homework today either. And I don't expect that conversation with his stupid mom and pop to have helped much," the teacher said angrily.
Like it or not, there was only one thing he could do about it. And as the teacher hopped into his pants and made a pretense of brushing his teeth, he thought: "Oh, I hate that kid and his stupid dog... damn them. Grr, I'm gonna eat both of them..."
Then he scurried out of the house. The bath would have to wait till tomorrow.

There... he could see Jonah coming out his house with a notebook in his hand. The brat's getting to the pavement now, the teacher observed, even as he pushed his lean body a little more into the bush he was hiding in. Nothing seemed to be happening.
Jonah turned a corner and ... suddenly, he slowed his pace. Curious, thought the teacher, coming out of his hiding place for a closer look.
It was a dog. A small scruffy mongrel sitting on the side of the pavement. And it seemed to be growling under its breath.
Weird, thought Jenkins. He watched wonderstruck as his student stood rooted to the spot in obvious fear, then threw his notebook towards the dog before backing down. A content expression seemed to be assimilating on the canine's face.
Then it got up on all fours. And started walking slowly towards the book.
Jenkins never knew what came over him. But as far as he knew, the homework belonged to him - it was HIS homework - and no dog was going to take it away from him for the fourth time in a row!
The teacher started running towards the object of contention. And even as a now thoroughly-frightened Jonah looked on, jumped at the book and grabbed it.
The mongrel stopped mid-step. Sat. It had a very annoyed look on its face.
What followed was a blur. Jenkins screamed. Then Jonah screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

EPILOGUE

Nobody saw Jenkins ever again. The police searched for him far and wide, but even his bones seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth.
And nobody would take Jonah's word that a mongrel with dirty teeth had eaten his Math teacher.

AAAAARGH! I'VE BEEN TAGGED! Is this where I scream and start spilling all my beans (among other things)?
Okay, 3inOne tagged me yesterday on this 'Ten Interesting Things About Me' thingy ... so, she's responsible for the following utterly boring (and occasionally disgusting) Jimmy facts that I am going to impose upon you. Tee!

Fact # 1: It, invariably, rains whenever I forget to take my raincoat along. So I occasionally leave it behind so the poor farmers of Karnataka could get some water to feed their crops.
Generally gets me a good feeling - and a very soggy underwear. Maybe I'm that raingod from HHGTTG.

Fact # 2: Always remember that I forgot to double-check the lock about halfway down the road to my office. And, as one thing leads to the other, always get that stare from the boss for coming in an hour late.

Fact # 3: I like rain falling on my head, but I hate it getting into my pants. And slush ... I'd like an hour in a hospital waiting-room better than two minutes through slush!

Fact # 4: Abhor fake accents. If Smita Jha down the road comes to me speaking in an Angelina Jolie kinda way, Smita Jha is most likely to have my puke on her. I believe in being pretentious too (ask Rama), but it has to be done my way. Hah!

Fact # 5: I save all my pennies to make a pound, which I then go and spend on a white elephant. Don't believe it? Ask my hair dryer, my worldspace receiver and my fifteen mini-cassette players - which are all lying jobless in dusty cardboard boxes up my attic.

Fact # 6: Sometimes - after having said nothing in my defence during a roadside squabble, I lie in bed and curse myself for not having opened my mouth when I should have. And sometimes - as I see a big thug of a guy charge towards me with a bellow on his lips, I stand expressionless and curse myself for having opened my mouth when I shouldn't have.

Fact # 7: I believe in heaven. Because I can't, for the life in me, imagine that my friend, who passed away last week, has become nothingness.

Fact # 8: I believe in watching Lolita before reading Lolita. Don't ask why - can't think of a reason :)

Fact # 9: Nostalgia, according to me, is the best emotion known to man. Just that right tinge of the sweet, just that right tinge of the sour...
Just right!

Fact # 10: Don't believe in taking shorter routes anymore. Prefer the railway overbridge overhead to the railway track right up in front.
Learnt this one the hard way ;)


P.S.: Maybe the hiatus ain't gonna happen after all. Sorry, Senthu! And Rama... here's some more pretentious stuff for you to feed on. Heh!

Our Honourable President A P J Abdul Kalam visited the European Union Parliament at Athens recently, where he recited a certain poem for the benefit of all the hapless attendees. For those who have missed out on it, here's an excerpt:

Beautiful environment leads
To beautiful minds
Beautiful minds generate
Freshness and creativity
Created explorers of land and sea
Created minds that innovate
Created great scientific minds
Created everywhere, why
Gave birth to many discoveries
Discovered a continent and unknown lands
Ventured into unexplored paths
Created new highways
In the minds of the best
Worst was also born
Generated seeds of battle and hatred
Hundreds of years of wars and blood
Millions of my wonderful children
Lost in the land an sea
Tears flooded many nations
Many engulfed in ocean of sadness...

A pity, huh?
This isn't funny in the slightest. Wondering if a signature campaign would prevent our long-haired friend from committing similar atrocities in the future.


P.S.: Looking at the brighter side, now I know that my poetry ain't the worst!