Calvin and Hobbes

All Calvin and Hobbes Ever Published

From a student - Aditya Goel  - The juvenility in a child's thoughts, the full play in his actions, the range of his imagination, compel me to wish if each person could be as innocent, and not let facts get in his way. As puerile as it could get, your imagination will keep you calm in tribulations; and who knows, one of those unconventional dreams might come true.

ख्वाबों के किस्से,

अगर सुबह से होते,

अपने मन की करते,

और मीठे सपने पिरोते.

अपने नामों को लिखना,

गीली मिटटी में होता,

हर रोज़ का गुस्सा,

बस किताबों से होता.

डर वोह मन का,

सिर्फ माँ से ही होता,

हर झूठ, हर रोना,

एक खिलोने में खोता.

रियासत के किस्से,

झूठी कहानियों में होते,

और उनके हिस्से,

हम सोते ही होते.

कभी परेशानियों में,

वोह मुस्कुराना सच्चा होता,

क्या दुनिया वोह होती,

जहां हर कोई बच्चा होता.

- आदित्य गोयल

Bhains Chalisa

महामूर्ख दरबार में, लगा अनोखा केस
फसा हुआ है मामला, अक्ल बङी या भैंस
अक्ल बङी या भैंस, दलीलें बहुत सी आयीं
महामूर्ख दरबार की अब,देखो सुनवाई
मंगल भवन अमंगल हारी- भैंस सदा ही अकल पे भारी
भैंस मेरी जब चर आये चारा- पाँच सेर हम दूध निकारा
कोई अकल ना यह कर पावे- चारा खा कर दूध बनावे
अक्ल घास जब चरने जाये- हार जाय नर अति दुख पाये
भैंस का चारा लालू खायो- निज घरवारि सी.एम. बनवायो
तुमहू भैंस का चारा खाओ- बीवी को सी.एम. बनवाओ
मोटी अकल मन्दमति होई- मोटी भैंस दूध अति होई
अकल इश्क़ कर कर के रोये- भैंस का कोई बाँयफ्रेन्ड ना होये
अकल तो ले मोबाइल घूमे- एस.एम.एस. पा पा के झूमे
भैंस मेरी डायरेक्ट पुकारे- कबहूँ मिस्ड काल ना मारे
भैंस कभी सिगरेट ना पीती- भैंस बिना दारू के जीती
भैंस कभी ना पान चबाये - ना ही इसको ड्रग्स सुहाये
शक्तिशालिनी शाकाहारी- भैंस हमारी कितनी प्यारी
अकलमन्द को कोई ना जाने- भैंस को सारा जग पहचाने
जाकी अकल मे गोबर होये- सो इन्सान पटक सर रोये
मंगल भवन अमंगल हारी- भैंस का गोबर अकल पे भारी
भैंस मरे तो बनते जूते- अकल मरे तो पङते जूते
अकल को कोई देख ना पावे- भैंस दरस साक्षात दिखावे
अकल पढाई करन से आवे- भैंस कभी स्कूल ना जावे
भैंस के डाक्टर मौज उङावैं- अकल के डाक्टर काम ना पावैं
अकलमन्द जग से डरै,भैंस मस्त पगुराय
भैंस चलाये सींग तो, अकलमन्द भग जाय
मंगल भवन अमंगल हारी- भैंस कभी ना बकती गारी
भैंस कभी अतंक ना करती- भैंस मेरी भगवान से डरती
तासौं भैंस सदा मुसकावै- अकल लङे ओर अति दुख पावै
अकल तो एटम बम्ब बनाये- झटके मे संसार उङाये
भैंस दूध दे हमको पाले- बिना दूध हों चाय के लाले
अकल विभाजन देश का कीन्ही- पाक बांग्लादेश ये दीन्ही
भैंस अभी तक फर्क ना जाने- एक रूप में सबको माने
हिन्दू मुस्लिम सिक्ख ईसाई- भैंस सभी को दूध पिलायी
भैंस न कोइ इलैक्शन चाहे- भैंस ना कोइ सेलेक्शन चाहे
इसकी नज़र मे एक हैं सारे- मोटे पतले गोरे कारे
भेदभाव नहिं भैंस को भाया- भैंस मे ही जनतन्त्र समाया
भैंस ना कोई करै हवाला- भैंस करै ना कोइ घोटाला
पासपोर्ट ना वीजा पाती- जब चाहे विदेश हो आती
फिर भी स्मगलिंग ना करती- भैंस मेरी कानून से डरती
ता सौं भैंस हमें है प्यारी- मंगल भवन अमंगल हारी
अकल बेअकल जो मरै, अन्त सवारी भैंस
भैंस बङी है अकल से, फईनल हो गया केस !!

Aaram Karo

This is a famous poem, that I read as a child...saw its link on Facebook today and was instantly transported to my childhood. Enjoy!

आराम करो

एक मित्र मिले, बोले, "लाला, तुम किस चक्की का खाते हो?
इस डेढ़ छँटाक के राशन में भी तोंद बढ़ाए जाते हो।
क्या रक्खा है माँस बढ़ाने में, मनहूस, अक्ल से काम करो।
संक्रान्ति-काल की बेला है, मर मिटो, जगत में नाम करो।"
हम बोले, "रहने दो लेक्चर, पुरुषों को मत बदनाम करो।
इस दौड़-धूप में क्या रक्खा, आराम करो, आराम करो।

आराम ज़िन्दगी की कुंजी, इससे न तपेदिक होती है।
आराम सुधा की एक बूंद, तन का दुबलापन खोती है।
आराम शब्द में 'राम' छिपा जो भव-बंधन को खोता है।
आराम शब्द का ज्ञाता तो विरला ही योगी होता है।
इसलिए तुम्हें समझाता हूँ, मेरे अनुभव से काम करो।
ये जीवन, यौवन क्षणभंगुर, आराम करो, आराम करो।

यदि करना ही कुछ पड़ जाए तो अधिक न तुम उत्पात करो।
अपने घर में बैठे-बैठे बस लंबी-लंबी बात करो।
करने-धरने में क्या रक्खा जो रक्खा बात बनाने में।
जो ओठ हिलाने में रस है, वह कभी न हाथ हिलाने में।
तुम मुझसे पूछो बतलाऊँ -- है मज़ा मूर्ख कहलाने में।
जीवन-जागृति में क्या रक्खा जो रक्खा है सो जाने में।

मैं यही सोचकर पास अक्ल के, कम ही जाया करता हूँ।
जो बुद्धिमान जन होते हैं, उनसे कतराया करता हूँ।
दीए जलने के पहले ही घर में आ जाया करता हूँ।
जो मिलता है, खा लेता हूँ, चुपके सो जाया करता हूँ।
मेरी गीता में लिखा हुआ -- सच्चे योगी जो होते हैं,
वे कम-से-कम बारह घंटे तो बेफ़िक्री से सोते हैं।

अदवायन खिंची खाट में जो पड़ते ही आनंद आता है।
वह सात स्वर्ग, अपवर्ग, मोक्ष से भी ऊँचा उठ जाता है।
जब 'सुख की नींद' कढ़ा तकिया, इस सर के नीचे आता है,
तो सच कहता हूँ इस सर में, इंजन जैसा लग जाता है।
मैं मेल ट्रेन हो जाता हूँ, बुद्धि भी फक-फक करती है।
भावों का रश हो जाता है, कविता सब उमड़ी पड़ती है।

मैं औरों की तो नहीं, बात पहले अपनी ही लेता हूँ।
मैं पड़ा खाट पर बूटों को ऊँटों की उपमा देता हूँ।
मैं खटरागी हूँ मुझको तो खटिया में गीत फूटते हैं।
छत की कड़ियाँ गिनते-गिनते छंदों के बंध टूटते हैं।
मैं इसीलिए तो कहता हूँ मेरे अनुभव से काम करो।
यह खाट बिछा लो आँगन में, लेटो, बैठो, आराम करो।

- गोपालप्रसाद व्यास

A brief history(??) of India

A BRIEF BUT Complete History of India : As written by a Std X schoolboy, with all the original spellings. Please pay special attention to the spellings and the "derived" nomenclature. If you don't know all this -- you are history!!!

The original inhabitants of ancient India were called Adidases, who lived in two cities called Hariappa and Mujhe-na-Darao. These cities had the best drain system in the world and so there was no brain drain from them.

Ancient India was full of myths which have been handed down from son to father. A myth is a female moth. A collection of myths is called mythology, which means stories with female caricatures. One myth says that people in olden times worshipped monkeys because they were our incestors.

In olden times there were two big families in India . One was called the Pandava and the other was called the Karova. They fought amongst themselves in a battle called Mahabharat, after which India came to be known as Mera Bharat Mahan.

In midevil times India was ruled by the Slave Dienasty. So named because they all died a nasty death. Then came the Tughlaqs who shifted their capital from Delhi because of its pollution. They were followed by the Mowglis.

The greatest Mowgli was Akbar because he extinguished himself on the battlefield of Panipat which is in Hurryana. But his son Jehangir was peace loving; he married one Hindu wife and kept 300 porcupines. Then came Shahajahan who had 14 sons. Family planning had not been invented at that time. He also built the Taj Mahal hotel for his wife who now sleeps there. The king sent all his sons away to distant parts of India because they started quarrelling. Dara Seiko was sent to UP, Shaikh Bhakhtiyar was sent to J & K, while Orangezip came to Bombay to fight Shivaji. However, after that they changed its name to Mumbai because Shivaji's sena did not like it. They also do not like New Delhi , so they are calling it Door Darshan.

After the Mowglis came Vasco the Gama. He was an exploder who was circumcising India with a 100 foot clipper. Then came the British. They brought with them many inventions such as cricket, tramtarts and steamed railways. They were followed by the French who brought in French fries, pizzazz and laundry. But Robert Clive drove them out when he deafened Duplex who was out membered since the British had the queen on their side.

Eventually, the British came to overrule India because there was too much diversity in our unity. The British overruled India for a long period. They were great expotents and impotents. They started expoting salt from India and impoting cloth. This was not liked by Mahatma Gandhi who wanted toproduce his own salt. This was called the swedish moment. During this moment, many people burnt their lion cloths in the street and refused to wear anything else. The British became very angry at this and stopped the production of Indian testiles.

In 1920, Mahatma Gandhi was married to one wife. Soon after he became the father of the nation. In 1942 he started the Quiet India moment, so named because the British were quietly lootaoing our country. In 1947, India became free and its people became freely loving. This increased our population. Its government became a limited mockery, which means people are allowed to take the law in their own hands with the help of the police. Our constipation is the best in the world because it says that no man can be hanged twice for the same crime. It also says you cannot be put in prison if you have not paid your taxis.

Another important thing about our constipation is that it can be changed. This is not possible with the British constipation because it is not written on paper. The Indian Parlemint consists of two houses which are called lower and higher. This is because one Mr Honest Abe said that two houses divided against itself cannot withstand.

So Pandit Nehru asked the British for freedom at midnight since the British were afraid of the dark. At midnight, on August 15, there was a tryst in Parlemint in which many participated by wearing khaki and hosting the flag.

Recently in India , there have been a large number of scams and a plaque. it can be dangerous because many people died of plaque in Surat . Scams are all over India . One of these was in Bihar where holy cows were not given anything to eat by their elected leader. The other scam was in Bofor which is a small town in Switzerland. In this, a lot of Indian money was given to buy a gun which can shoot a coot.

Presently India has a coalishun government made up of many parties, left, right and centre. It has started to library the economy. This means that there is now no need for a licence as the economy will be driven by itself. India is also trying to become an Asian tiger because its own tigers are being poached. Another important event this year was the Shark meeting at Malas Dive. At this place, shark leaders agreed to share their poverty, pollution and population.

Kya tere baap kaa road hai?

An apocryphal story involving Russi Mody. (Ex MD Tata Steel, Jamshedpur)

I would like to believe that the following story actually happened. It is so typically Russi. It is said that once Russi Mody was on an official trip to (the then) Bombay. Even though it was a Sunday morning, Russi had to visit Bombay House, the Corporate Head Quarters of the Tata Group. Russi was driving a Mercedes himself as it was a Sunday and there was very little traffic and also it was the chauffeur's day off. Russi was wearing simple shorts and a T shirt.

Knowing that he would take just a few minutes to finish his work in Bombay House and that it was a non-working day in the business district with very low traffic, he decided to take liberties to park his Merc in an other-wise no parking zone. A conscientious traffic cop noticed all this and he immediately rushed to Russi who had started sauntering towards the Bombay House entrance.

In a gruff voice the Pandu Havaldar asked Russi. "Kyun bhidu, baap kaa sadak samajh kay rakha hai kya?"

Russi very non-chalantly replied: "Haan kuchh aisa hi hai. Aapko English padhna aata hai kya?"

Then he gently held the Pandu's arm and walked him to the kerbside and pointed to the metal signage of the road. He asked the cop "Kya Likha Hai?"

The cop said "Sir Homi Mody Street".

 A mischievously smiling Russi discloses"Woh Mera Baap Tha".

Russi was allowed to leave his car parked in the "No Parking" Zone that Sunday morning.

Books Read

Finshed reading a lot of books recently.

1. One Night at the Call Center - Too filmy in my opinion. This I thought when I read the book. At that time I did not even know that a film titled "Hello" is under production based on the same. A letdown in the story/plot department, after reading Five Point Someone. But the humour was quite good.

2. Anything for You Ma'am - Another of the I-was-in-engineering-college-and-I-had-the-time-of-my-life genre. Good narration, predictably filmy story. Nothing exciting in the story but author can certainly lift one's spirits!

3. Inheritance of Loss - Nice, if slow. Did it deserve the Booker....err...umm....how to say this....aaaahhh.....No, I don't think it deserved a prize like that.

4. A Prisoner of Birth - Surprisingly filmy from Jeffrey Archer. Old Jeff is losing his touch. Better than whatitsname novel about Art Auction and 9/11 but nothing better. So second last on my all time JA ranking.

5. The McKinsey Way - Reread this classic. Nice reading!

6. The Broker - Reread this John Grisham thriller. Above average by his standards. Could have been better.

7. The Intelligent Investor - Benjamin Graham's classic with updated commentary from Jason Zweig. Reread this one. How true it sounds in today's financial crisis. I am glad I followed his advice in spirit in letter. Following it still. In Warren Buffett's words - "When the world is greedy, be fearful. When the world is fearful, be greedy." I am following it :)

Another one on Bongs!

To choton, gulgul, khoka, laltu, gogol, tutu, bubu .... et al.

In these pages, I will attempt to alert people to a great injustice that is being perpetrated upon the sons of Bengal. So you thought they were wimpy to begin with.
Far from it, my friend. Their current state is a result of years of conditioning by the oppressors - namely the women. By using a variety of psychological weapons, they have reduced these fine men to what you see today.

Today we focus on the first weapon in their hands - the nickname.

When a son is born into a Bengali household, he is gifted with a resonant, sonorous name. Bengali names are wonderful things. They convey majesty and power. A man with a name like Prasenjit, Arunabha or Sukanta is a man who will walk with his head held high, knowing that the world expects great deeds from him, which was why they bestowed the title that is his name.

But it simply will not do for these men to get ahead of themselves. Their swelling confidence needs to be shattered. How can one go about it? This task is left to the mothers of these lads and is accomplished by the simple act of referring to the boy, not by his fine-sounding real name, but by a nickname which Shakti Kapoor would be ashamed to answer to.

There are some rules for creating nicknames, which need to be followed. They are -

1. Nicknames must have no connection to the real name. Arunabha cannot be called Arun. No, or that would be logical, and such things are anathema in the world of women. Instead he shall be called Bhombol. If possible, the nickname and real name must have no letters in common, but an ancient alphabet proves to be the constraining factor there.

2. Nicknames must be humiliating. If you are a tall strapping boy with a flair for soccer, an easy charm and an endearing personality, then you shall be nicknamed - Bhondu. And every time, you have set your sights on a girl, and are on the verge of having the aforementioned lass eat out of your hand - your mother will arrive and pronounce loudly - "Bhondu, chalo".
The ensuing sea of giggles will drown out whatever confidence you had earned from that last winning free-kick.

3. A nickname must refer in some way to a suitably embarrassing incident in your childhood that you would give your arm and leg to forget. If it took you a little too long to shed your baby fat, then years of gymming will not rid you of the nomenclature - Motka. If your face turned crimson when you cried as a toddler, you will be called Laltu. When you turn 40, your friends' children will call you Laltu Uncle. Even age will not earn you the right to be taken seriously thereafter.

4. Different members of the family will make up different nicknames - each more embarrassing than the preceding one. If one member of the family calls you Piklu, then another will call you Mitul, and yet another will call you Jumbo... The humiliation multiplies.

5. You will always be introduced by your nickname until people forget you had a real name. Ranajoy might have taken on a gang of armed men single-handedly, but Toton really didn't have a chance. After a point Toton will completely take over the beaten body of Ranajoy, weighed down by the pressure of a thousand taunts.

6. This strategy is surprisingly effective. Ask yourself - would you take Professor Rintu seriously? Or put much weight by the opinion of Dr. Bubai? Or march into battle under the command of General Thobla?

7. The power of the nickname has scarred the psyche of Bengali men everywhere. It follows them like a monkey on their backs. That too, a monkey with a flair for slapstick, that was gifted to them by their own mothers.

Thesis on Bongs

This is hilarious. Someone with a fantastic ringside view of Bongs has written this! I don't know the author but if someone points it out, I would be glad to cite the person!

===
There are two kinds of Bengalis that I know. Probashi or Expatriate Bangalees, a fairly large and diverse group about which I can't write as I am one of them. And Bengalees who are from Kolkata. This group is incorrectly known as Bongs, as they are merely a subset. However, this is the only group which matters. Gokhale told of them, long years back, 'What Bengal thinks today, India thinks tomorrow.' To which Rene Descartes responded, 'I think (today), therefore I am (Bengali).' Like all other Nobel Prize Winners, Oscar Awardees and most successful Indian cricket captains, Rene Descartes was also a Bong (this fact is not known outside of Kolkata).

Physical Description: The Bong has a large head, glasses, glistening hair and dark skin. Older Bongs develop an ample stomach to balance their large heads. This happens by the age of 25. They smell of Keo Karpin. The average life expectancy is 65 years. What is even more impressive is what they do in those years. Outside Kolkata, regardless of weather, sex or age, Bongs can be seen in Monkey Caps. This is a must-have accessory as well as a sign to recognize other Bongs. (please see second update for more). The Bongling can often be recognised in either over-sized or under-sized school uniforms. The Bong mother's second biggest fear (See diet for the biggest one) is that the 'porer bochor o lomba hoye gele abar notun skirt kinte hobe!!' or 'Next year, if you grow taller, we'll again have to buy a new skirt!!' Thus, the school uniform is selected to last at least three years. Thus the uniform sits as conspicuously on the Bongling as the plumage of a macaw.

Early Years: While most Bongs are born with innate talents in singing, dancing, painting, film-making, cooking or embroidery, their creative talents are honed even before they can start speaking. Frequent meets are organised between infants and their successful ancestors and other relatives. MA degrees (preferably from Cambridge , at least from Presidency or Jadobpoor) are displayed over the cots. The infant is exposed to the best of Bengali thought - Marx, Bentham, Kalidas, Tolstoy, Chekov. This increases the sizes of their heads and the height of their ambitions. Similar examples, though rare, can be found in European tradition as well, like in the case of Mozart. In India , however, Bongs have the sole preserve on such activity during infancy. Soon, when they grow up a little, their characters are honed in the best of schools. Here, I am not referring to the South Points, La Marts, Don Boscos and all. They are important in the nurture a Bong child goes through. What is even more important are the schools the Bong child passes through before school and after school. Many a Bong child wakes up at five o'clock in the morning to attend swimming classes. After one hour of swimming, he attends tennis coaching before rushing off to one of the South Points, LaMarts etc. mentioned above. School finishes by two or so, from where he scoots along to Singing/ Instrumental Music/ Dance Classes, then tuition (for at least three of all five subjects). He rounds off the day with coaching on either Debating or Quiz. Many a Bong mother will carry the child along through this day, feeling equally energised. This behaviour is again not restricted to Bongs. It also seen within kangaroos in Australia who rush along from one clump to another bush.

Growing up: Soon the Bong attains adolescence, doesn't find friends of his age (since everyone is competing for the Nobel Prize or the Indian captaincy) and finds intimacy in conversation in his/her parents and poems of T.S.Eliot and Pablo Neruda. When school ends, they move on to the good colleges- Presidency, Xavier's or IIT Kharagpur. The best of them, though, move straight to Joo (Jadobpoor). However, in recent years, Dilli (Stephen's obviously) is becoming the preferred destination for some escapists. In colleges, they decorate their rooms with books or portraits of Robi Guru (Tagore). On the opposite wall, men would have posters of Che/Maradona and women would have Enrique Iglesias, thus expressing solidarity with Latin American culture. All of them share equal interest in the Bong-Rock (Bhumi, Chondrobindu, Cactus, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple).

Later Years: Bongs mature early. Critics have said that they grow old early, but that is nothing but old hat. Years of toil and Eliot would obviously bestow wisdom. The reason they look older is because the sole purpose of a Bong's life is to win the Nobel Prize or the Oscars (and in recent years, captain the Indian team). With great responsibility comes great age. Add to it the chlorine in the swimming pools and you know why Bongs grey prematurely. As far as their mission in life is concerned, they have been very successful at it. Every Indian Nobel Prize winner has been Bong (the others who weren't don't matter). So have the Oscar Awardees. And most successful Cricket Captains. And Bipasha Basu. Once Bongs have kids though, their mission on life changes. The only raision de'etre for them is making sure that their progeny achieves the heights that they could (or couldn't). Hence, they are mostly found outside of schools, colleges and tuition classes.

Diet: Diet is as important as Robindro Shongeet. There's nothing that a Bong can't eat. However, they prefer protein over other food groups. The largest source of protein for them is fish, then meat, and then mishti (sweets) made from milk. More than fish itself, it is the knowledge of fish which is coveted and enjoyed. Carbohydrates are tolerated if they are fried in oil or if it is accompaniment to fish. Luchis (somewhat like a Puri), Telebhajas (pakoras) and Phuchkas (Paani Puri) are the favoured source of carbohydrates. The young Bengali though invariably always has Farex, Lactogen and Waterbury 's Compound. As far as they most important meal of the day is concerned, please do note that what dieticians have been saying in the last few years, Bongs have known for centuries. Breakphast/tiphphin is an occasion where the entire family comes together, to watch the office-going Bong male and school-bound Bonglings eat. The Bong woman's biggest fear is that 'Shokale bhaat dal mach bhaaja na kheye beriye gailo' or 'In the morning, He went out without eating rice, dal and fish fry.' To round off the calories, Dal is often accompanied by aaloo bhaate, aaloo bhaja, potol bhaaja and various other heartily fried stuff. Not for the faint-hearted.

Mating and procreation: A few Bong end up being in relationships, which lead to love marriage. This is sometimes shown in movies and song. However, most do not have any such social malignancy and end up marrying the woman of their mother's dreams or men of their father's choosing. This results in mixing the right genes for the next cycle of Bongs.Love marriage, by its very nature, is random. It sometimes results is tragedy, like marrying into another country (like India ). Hence, it is avoided, wherever possible.

Social Life: Adda, robindro shongeet and cha. Repeat. Do note that the young Bong doesn't have a social life (at least not till he wins the Nobel or gets a Government job). And phootball. the Bongs have had an illustrious history of achievement in football. Every para (neighbourhood) has stories of when they won the World Cup at the expense of the next one. The last time it happened in my parent's para was in 1986, when Argentina won in Mexico . Diego Maradona, who looks Bhodrolok enough, give or take a few lines of coke, scored famously using his hand, a skill which he learnt in Kolkata. Over the last few years, Brazil has been gladdening the hearts of many Zicos who were born in Kolkata around 1982-86. The only team which is not Bong is Germany as they play with more efficiency and no creativity, which thus is not amenable to adda. Do not ask of a Bong doing anything on the phootball field as then the Bong will keep you occupied about Jakarta ,1962. 'Chuni Goswami je Ball tule dilo PK ke. Match-er aagei bolechilo, 'Ekta Ball debo. Daam kore maarish. Gol hobe'.' Chuni Goswami put a football up for PK (Banerjee). He told him before the match itself, 'I will give you one ball. Hit it with a bang. Goal will happen.' Obviously, it is also the crowning moment of Indian phootball.

Habitat: While you may find a Bong in other places (like occasionally in offices), the best time to observe a Bong is in his natural habitat - the best of colleges, the best of schools, the best of coffee houses. It is here that he will tell you about Balzac while she will recite poetry with gay abandon. To mix in with the Bong, apply Keo Karpin to your hair and carry a jhola. Hopefully, they won't notice your small head. Do not worry about not knowing the language as the Bong likes being heard.

Famous Bongs :Many famous Bongs have been referred to in this extract. Hence, this section is used to debunk that big myth about Bongs. People believe that Bong men can't be hunky. If so, then what about Abhishek Bachchan (via mother), Saif Ali Khan (via mother), John Abraham (via girlfriend), Hritik Roshan (via grandmother).

Bongs in Literature, Film, Art: Everywhere you care to look.

Closing Word: Being Bong at the end of the day is a state of mind. Or, a case of being discovered by them. Best of luck.

HP7 - The deathly hallows

I just finished reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I will write more about my own experience later, but for now, here is the reading diary of someone else! Enjoy! And this, here, is the review from TIME magazine.

Shayari

Baadlon ke darmiyaan kuch aisi saajish hui,
Mera ghar mitti ka tha, mere hi ghar barish hui.
Usko bhi zid hai bijliyan girane ki,
Aur hamein bhi zid hai wahin aashiyan banane ki.

Shayari

Iss duniya mein humko nazare saare dikhe;
Qatl mera andhere mein kiya tha unhone;
Jo ujale mein dost humare dikhe.

Vakil Sahab

This is a character sketch that I wrote. I wrote it over a period of time, with the idea coming to my mind when I saw this man, nearly 4 years ago. I wrote my initial draft on the spot. I converted it into a full-blown sketch last year but never got around to putting it up on the blog. A character sketch has no story, it is just what the name suggests; a character sketch. Do leave your comments on this one.


A small town. A slightly dusty afternoon. The dampness of yesterday’s rains has started to give way under the relentless attack of the freshly bathed sun. A bit of heaviness hangs in the air. Like an unpleasant thought that refuses to go away. It is as humid as anywhere yet a bit more cool in the large tin shade outside the local courts. The shade houses close to a hundred and seventy-five lawyers. A jumble of black coats, dark pants, white shirts and kurtas, dhotis and pagdis. The sickly sweet smell of stale tobacco mixed with pungent sweat, dust and rancid decay enters everyone’s nostrils. No one feels it.

A lawyer in this hodgepodge. Small town creature. Short, squat, possessor of a closely-cropped pate; hair that has been cut so short that it stands at its ends, resembling the back of a porcupine. The skin-folds at the back of his head bulge and peek through this liberally oiled bush every time he throws his head back to look at the ceiling. The hair is grey, black and white; all thrown together in equal measure. The oil promotes quick growth and is a quick preparation for its next shearing. It seems that the hair is shorn off completely once a month so that his prospective clients can identify with him more closely. The oil trickles down along with copious amounts of sweat and gives his face an extra luminousity. He wipes off the sweat with a deliberate and slow action, using both the shoulders of his shirt alternately. He is slow, not because he is weak, but because he can afford to. He has all the time in the world.

His pencil moustache harks back to the heroes of black & white movie era, frozen in a time capsule. Once a fashion has been adopted there is no deviation from it. He hates change. A shave has been executed today morning by the neighbourhood barber and the results are there for everyone to see. A bit of hair is left unshaved near his jowls. He strokes it out of boredom. This will make its presence felt only today. Since the shaving ritual is performed on alternate days, this extra growth will hardly be noticeable on the second day. This ritual saves money and anyway who needs a shave everyday?

A paunch rests gently on the thighs, heaving with a slow rhythm of breathing, doing complete justice to years of sitting and talking. Talking to fellow lawyers and clients over endless cups of tea - tea with too much sugar, too much milk and too less tea.

A mandatory white shirt with an extra dose of indigo that makes it look almost bluish. Dappled with yellow. Striped pants complete the ensemble. The attire tells prospective clients that he is “Vakil Sahab”.

The feet sport an old and decaying pair of sports shoes, the ones probably purchased at the local shoe store, because it had got a new lot from the city, and was giving a nice inaugural discount to kick-start the shop. Or may be the shop was closing down and gave a nice discount to rid itself of the old stock.

A small hole in the vest is visible from under the now-translucent-from-sweat shirt. He doesn’t care for he can’t see the hole. Even if he could, it would not matter. The button holding the most critical part of the shirt, the one directly above the paunch, seems to be close to yielding, but miraculously stays put. He looks at his watch for the seventeenth time in the past fifteen minutes yet fails in his desperate attempt to look busy. There is no client till now. It is already 11 in the morning. The court has been open since 10. He must get a client today, if he is to get his bottle in the evening.

He takes out a small key from his top pocket and puts it in the keyhole of the top drawer of his table. It turns smoothly. He opens it slightly to release the mechanism that protects the lower drawers. He opens the middle drawer, takes out a small rag, cleans the imaginary dust from the table and wipes away some sweat that seems to have trickled down along his forearms and elbows, onto the table.

He promises himself to wear the old full-sleeved shirt tomorrow, instead of this half-sleeved one. They full-sleeved shirt does not look bad, just a bit frayed at the collars and cuffs – maybe his wife could repair them once again – but at least the mess on the table would not happen. Appearances are important in this business and a sweaty creature has a far lesser chance of trapping a client than a somber-looking man.

He plans to get a fan soon. A fan increases the prestige one has among the clients. Some lawyers have their own fans and their own private air. Most others make do with whatever blows their way. His first priority is to replace the broken armrests of a chair in front of him, one of the two that the clients sit on. But before that he needs a better lock & chain that guards his belongings when he leaves for the day. The present one seems to be decaying like his practice. People don’t fight enough in this town, or may be he does not know many litigious people.

He replaces the rag at its place. He rummages through the other contents of the drawer. An old receipt for eleven rupees for a Jagraan, which some local boys took from him. He wanted to give five, but as everyone was giving eleven, he had to stick to the norm. Those boys looked like scoundrels! Must have had foreign whisky from the money they collected. He knew the Jagraan was a sham to collect money yet could not protest.

An old notice from his landlord. Eviction! At least he could fight this case properly, as there was no payment problem with this client. Most others were always short on their dues. Most of his clients are farmers with small land holdings in the villages near the town and fight civil cases over land, inheritance or money. And sometimes criminal cases over the not-so-uncommon violence - a result of the civil cases. Most people paid fees by mortgaging land or valuables.

An old bar council election handbill. Cheaply printed on recycled paper. “Vote Support Elect. Chandan Singh Awana Group.” He had tried his hand at the local politics but that demanded too much money and he could barely make both ends meet. Plus everyone demanded too much money for even getting small jobs done. He was content being on the fringes.

A photo of him and a prominent local politician. He had garlanded him outside his house when the politician was canvassing for votes in the last elections in his area. A photographer had charged 30 rupees for a copy of the photo. The thug! But at least he had a nice souvenir. He should have this framed before it loses its sheen. But where will he put it up? One needs a wall for that, and all he has is one side of a metal pole of the tin-shed. Maybe he will tie a metallic wire and make a loop that will accommodate the photo.

©Ankur Jain, 2007. Any copying, by any means, without express written permission, is illegal.