Everything in this story including characters, events etc is entirely fictional. 

9:00 AM on the clock.
I groaned and tried to get up. Then dropped down on my back again. It was tempting. What’s the use ? I was late anyway. Better make the most of this crappy start of yet another day of my life and go to sleep again. The temptation was too strong, but then people always say that I’m a sucker for pain. Somehow, managed to drag myself up to my feet and shuffled unsteadily towards bathroom. Yet another half  hour spent  in that too wet, too bright room trying to rub off the remnants of previous day. I couldn’t even remember how that went. Somehow, the fact that I should’ve been on the road by now was conveniently forgotten.  I looked absently for the mirror, only to be see my dull  grey outline on  shiny white tiles where a mirror used to be till last month. Some habits just don’t go away that easily.I was hungry but fridge was empty except for a limp half eaten watermelon. Took a bite then spit it out. I was surprised that the fungus wasn’t visible yet. Bye bye breakfast.

Thankfully keys were exactly where I had expected them to be and I was out of the apartment, locking the door half a minute later.  Sun was up already and it was hot as hell outside. Hello sweat
.
For a 10 minute long walk, I was nearly sprinting towards door of the store where I worked. Oh god, anything to escape this damned heat. It’s not like that I really love the place, but at least it’s air conditioned and much cooler. Same can’t be said for my boss, that middle aged control-freak of indeterminate sex.

To be honest, she is a woman, at least that’s what everybody says. Then who am I to dispute that. My medical history too often comes in between of what I see and what I want to say. Right now, “she” was standing with her back to me in a shapeless dress that could very well  be her night-gown or a sheet clinging to her body hair for all that I know.God ! Why couldn’t Anny see those rough black hair that covered  every inch of her body ? For that matter, why couldn’t anybody else but me ?

Of course, how could I be so stupid, so forgetful ! Anny had no eyes.At least not any that I could see. But nobody ever said or behaved like  she was blind. Customers quite often asked for  her help with making final choices.  She even recommended them alternate colours or designs when she felt like it.  Even then, she was sorting out a pile of t-shirts by their colour. Surely a blind person wouldn’t know how to do anything like that. I stood at the door looking at her as she put her hand in pile of t-shirt and put them on racks one by one.

         “What the hell are you doing staring at her ?” the sentence spoken in that gravely voice shook me out of my reverie as I found myself looking into a writhing dark pit that somehow functioned as my boss’s mouth. I looked blankly at her trying to make sense of what she said when I heard something coming out of her mouth again, ” Go upstairs at once and start unpacking the stuff like Anny has been doing for the last half an hour. And…where the hell have you been ? Why are you so late ? “

“I woke up late”, I managed to squeak out.

“Woke up late my ass. I’d kick you right here for that except for the fact that I’m too busy right now. Now run upstairs and unpack those boxes.”

I nodded my head and nearly bolted for stairs when she called out

again, “Hey wait dumb ass. Aren’t these your pills ?” I turned to see
her waving a dark brown bottle with my name written on it’s lid. “Yes”
I nodded to which she asked another question, ” Why did you leave them
here last night then ?” Without waiting for an answer she asked another, “Why do you need them again ?”

“Uh,my vision doesn’t work well without these.” I stammered out.

“Ah, yes. The vision pills. Don’t forget them here and there if you don’t want to turn blind or something.” She chuckled at her statement and placed the bottle on counter, motioning me to pick it up while she busied herself with her notepad .

I climbed down the stairs and grabbed the bottle before bolting upstairs to my comparatively peaceful upstairs section again. Peaceful was not an accurate way to describe the place . It’s not like she wouldn’t come upstairs to see for herself what was I up to whenever her legs permitted, but  any place away from her direct gaze is better. Much better than poor blind Anny’s who has to work
continuously under her disapproving eyes. I almost chuckled at the irony of that. Eyeless Anny under the watchful eyes.I’d have really laughed out loud when I realised why Anny was without eyes and my boss was a hairy freak of indeterminate gender.

I was not completely correct when I answered boss’s question about what the pills were for. Or may be she hadn’t really understood what I said. My eye sight was completely alright. I’d have passed any eye test without any difficulty. It was only what my brain made out of what my eyes saw which caused me some problems. That problems had forced me to spend 6 years of my life,  to be more specific  almost all of my teenage years  under constant medication. A major part of those years were spent in numerous psychiatric wards of various hospitals undergoing one test after another. Most of the times, being a guinea pig for various experiments that the doctors tried to pass off for treatment. How I wish I had something to blame anyone, my family, doctors, anything for my condition but nobody could put a finger on what was wrong with me.

All they knew that I saw something that was not there. The rat like teeth that I saw growing out of my mother’s mouth or the red scales that started to cover my father’s face as he tried to convince me to climb down from the mango tree that grew in our backyard.  I spent 8 hours clinging to the topmost branch of that tree and would have stayed there much longer if it had not snapped all of a sudden , dropping me unceremoniously to the ground 14-15 feet below. It was at that time
when my parents realized that there was something seriously wrong with me.  Next 6-7 years were spent in a painful daze of hospital stays, injections, pills and hundreds of tests. Of all this, I feared my extended stays in psychiatrist wards  the most. Living there for months, surrounded by crazy people some even more crazy than me scared the hell out of me. Many times I tried to lie my way out. I told my
doctors that everything was fine. That I could see people for what they truly were not what my brain wanted to see. But every time, I found myself back in those wards within a few months. Once I found myself standing alone in some kind of party in a relatives home and tried to jump from their balcony on 5th floor. That was the last time my family ever took me out.

Only silver lining of this dark cloud was that I was absolutely harmless to others. Nobody could ever blame me for hurting someone. All I did was to curl up in a corner, close my eyes and cry in sheer terror. Then slowly I willed myself to control it. I still saw bleeding eyes, smoky nostrils, forked tongues, boiling skin and things much worse around me, but I learned to control my fear. Slowly, I
taught myself to be desensitized from such horrors that only my eyes could see. It was difficult, I failed many number of times, contemplated suicide but something kept me from completely going under.

Spent a long time like that, then things changed a little when I was put on a new experimental drug. I still don’t know what do they call my mental disorder or what’s the exact name of that magic pill or how it works. Only thing I care about is that it helped me like nothing ever did. It changed my life.  Finally, I could go out in a crowded market and see normal faces instead of  mutilated abominations.  Somehow I passed school and enrolled in a college, but apparently it was too much for a crazy unbalanced mind like mine. I dropped out within a year and enrolled in a distant learning course. Then boredom of life hit me and I grew increasingly restless. I fought with my parents and one day left my home town to be here in bigger city where nobody knew me. Even after spending 2 years here, people who know me by name can be counted on 2-3 fingers.

Please don’t get a wrong impression. It’s not like my life has been a theater of tragedy. I’ve had my share of happiness. But there is a funny thing about being sad. Sometimes when you to cheer yourself up by remembering a good memory, you can’t recall one single detail. Even if you can recall it, it makes no effect. It’s like that stuff never happened and even if it did, it made absolutely no difference. People say that one ray of light is sufficient to dispel the deepest dark. Well, sometimes nothing is enough. Sometimes even the brightest sun is snuffed out by the darkness trapped inside you.For a long time, all of this crap going on in my life had made me a depressed freak. Thanks to science, there were pills for that too.  But pills only work your hormones or brain. Whatever they do, they can’t mend your life for you. The dirty work is for you to finish.

This job as a sales attendant at this small showroom doesn’t pay enough or leaves much time to go out and socialize. Not that I could even if I had the means. Sometimes I dream of leaving this city and going somewhere far from all these people. Build  a small cottage or a hut and spend my life watching trees, animals, fluffy clouds in a blue sky and bright sparkling stars in a black one. But I’m so damned afraid of that.

“Do you have these shorts in blue ?”

I was startled and my face must have shown it, for she smiled in a way that felt reassuring and waited while I tried to gather my wits. For how long I had been blanked out in deep thought, I had no idea. I didn’t knew when that girl in white tshirt and black jeans had came upstairs, took out those shorts from display rack and walked up to me ask for a different colour.

“Mmm, I’m not sure. Let me check.” That was all that I could manage to mumble out as I scrambled to find what she had asked for. After some struggle I found the blue one and triumphantly handed it over to her. She flashed another smile and disappeared in to trial room. I watched dumbly as she closed the door and stayed there for 2-3 minutes. Then she opened the door just a little and peeked out, “It’s only two of us here, right ?”
I noticed her sparkling eyes and perfect little mouth for first time.
“Ermm, yes.”

She smiled again “Great, I want your opinion.” Saying this, she stepped out dressed in her t-shirt and those blue shorts that I searched out for her.She looked beautiful and I stared without blinking. Then I heard her saying, “Don’t you think that these are a bit small for me ? Do you have a larger size ?”

I stared while she moved to offer me a better view. My god, she was the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen. She had long beautiful legs which were bent at knees in a model like pose. Those blue shorts looked just tailor made for her as they clung to her tightly till her thin waist and shapely butt. Her blue t-shirt was  a perfect fit on her body and highlighted every curve perfectly. She swung lightly in a circle and I noticed her pretty little feet as she shifter her weight from one to another.

” Although I love them, but I think they feel too tight.   What do you think ?  ”

I kept looking at her as if I was trying to make up my mind while in reality I wanted to keep looking at her for as long as possible. She raised her eyebrows in a quizzical expression, ” You look beautiful” that was allthat I could stammer out.

She giggled and pushed back her hair from her face. “Thanks. you are too kind. But I’d really like to try a larger size.”

I looked around. There were boxes of unopened stuff lying in the cupboard. I was supposed to have them unpacked and arranged on shelves half an hour ago. .

“I think we do have a bigger size in new arrivals, but I haven’t unpacked them yet.”

She looked at the shelves and back at me again, “Really ? Let me try out that then.”

“The thing is, it’ll take me sometime to unpack and look for exactly what you need. Can you please wait for a while ? 15 minutes maximum” I waited desperately for her to say yes. That she would stay while I open the boxes and search out those blue shorts for her. No matter how long it took.

She looked slightly disappointed, ” I can’t wait that long here. I have to go somewhere. .”

My heart sank, then she spoke again, ”  But I really want those shorts.  Umm listen, give me your phone number. I’ll be busy for 3-4 hours and will call when I’m finished to check if you found them.”

I nodded vigorously and almost sprinted to the counter to get a card for her. I scribbled down my own phone number  and handed it out for her to take. She took it from my hand and her fingers brushed against mine for fraction of a second. It was first real human touch that I had ever wanted and liked, at least that was what I could remember.

She read the card and pointed at what I had written, “Is that your number ? The store’s phone number is slightly hidden behind what your wrote.”

I smiled sheepishly, “Yes, it’s my number. Sorry about that, but you can call me any time you like. I can give you another card if you’d prefer it that way.”

I was relieved when she shook her head and put the card in her purse, “No, it’s alright. I’ll give you a call when I’m free. Please find them for me. ”

“I’ll do anything and everything.” I realized how foolish it sounded even before I had finished saying that and made a silly face. She laughed lightly and waved a bye as she climbed down the stairs away from my view.

Anny came up the stairs a few minutes later as I was busy searching boxes for those shorts. Instead of arranging them in neat little piles on shelves I was just dumping them on floor looking desperately for anything blue. Anny saw the mess I was making and spoke  “Wow ! What are you doing there ? Arrange these clothes on shelves first.”

I jumped a little on hearing her voice and gave her a sheepish smile. “Yea..well…you are right. I kind of messed it up. Could you please help me a bit ?”

Anny shook her head in exasperation and pointed a finger at me, ” I don’t think that I have the authority to reprimand you, so it’s just a friendly advice. Please be careful when the boss is around. She is not in good mood these days and I don’t want her to vent her anger on any of us. Alright ?”

I stood up silently nodding my head. She looked at me standing like a guilty school kid and smiled, ” Hey, don’t get so sad. It’s just between you and me as friends. Now lets get this stuff lined up before she comes up.”

I nodded brightly and got to work at once Sometimes I glanced at her through corner of my eyes as she arranged clothes on shelves hoping to find those blue shorts I so desperately needed. She seemed different but I couldn’t place my finger on it. It was only much later that I realized that she was not blind after all. But that was a really long time after. At that time, I was totally obsessed with finding those blue shorts in that right size for the pretty girl. Thankfully I didn’t had to wait long before finding the box that contained them. I gave a little whoop of joy and picked up a few pairs in my hand looking for the size she had requested. Fortunately, there were three.

I must have seemed really happy because Anny asked about it but I changed the subject. It was almost lunchtime and I was really hungry. I wolfed down 2 sandwiches and a mug of coffee and was back on my place much before lunch break was over. If Anny or boss found it  strange, neither of them said anything. Grabbing hold of my chair, I placed my phone on the table and stared at it waiting for it to ring. I also kept an ear open in case the shop’s land-line phone rang downstairs. It rang 3 times and I sneaked down every time wondering if it was her. The time was middle of the week and business was slow. Only one customer came up to my section  and she too left without buying anything . I kept waiting for the call getting impatient with each passing moment. I mentally kicked myself for not asking for her number. I could have asked for it without sounding creepy. After all so many people leave their numbers with us for exactly the samepurpose that she had. Now I despaired if she’d ever call. Seconds ticked by and soon it was 07:00 pm, only an hour to go before the shop closed for the day.
I paced the floor slowly repeatedly glancing at the blue shorts that I had sorted out and placed separately. Just when I was convinced that she was not coming I heard someone climbing the stairs and before I could turn around to see she was there standing there with a quizzical smile on her face. She seemed tired. Before she could say anything, I exclaimed, “I thought that you were not coming at all. ”

I thought she was slightly surprised, ” Sorry, I got stuck somewhere and couldn’t come earlier. ”

I probably grinned like an idiot and said grandly, “Oh, please don’t worry about that now. I’ve got your shorts in just the right size for you” and placed them with I thought was a dignified flourish in front of her.

Her face brightened a little as she picked up the 2 newly unpacked pairs and read the labels. Without saying anything she turned and locked herself  in the trial room as I mentally followed her every movement.

“What wouldn’t I give to be there with her I thought to myself and strangely was not surprised. I spent next few minutes day dreaming about the thought till she came out and placed one pair on the table. “I’ll take this one.”

I was slightly disappointed that she didn’t ask for my opinion like before. But I nodded brightly and congratulated her on her excellent choice, then again watched her as she took her time looking at the new arrivals that me and Anny had arranged just a few hours back. Apparently nothing else caught her fancy and she turned to me, ‘Umm, I think that’s all I’d like to buy today. Can you please make a bill for it ?”

No bargaining , It was a bit surprising.

I nodded brightly and took the shorts myself to the counter to get it billed. There were less than 10 minutes to our closing time and I noticed that Anny had already left. Only the boss was there behind the billing counter, stretching lazily like a cat. Thank god her face was not visible from where I was coming. I made more noises than usual while coming towards her, hoping that she’ll stop doing that.
Thankfully she composed herself and started generating the bill without asking any questions. She just raised her head to glance at her customer when she came down and stood by the counter. The girl paid full amount, nodded a thanks at me and walked slowly towards exit as she looked at the clothes at display. My  attention was broken by boss getting out of  her chair and rattling out orders at me. “Closing time. Gather your stuff and don’t forget your pills this time.”

I looked somewhat longingly at the girl as she ambled towards exit and sprinted up the stairs to gather my stuff. I was back in a jiffy. Boss seemed a bit astonished to see her orders being obeyed so enthusiastically. “That was fast.” She mumbled while locking the counter and gathering her own keys.

“Only following your orders ma’m” I shrugged to myself.

She gestured towards the girl as she stood near the door admiring a blouse and asked in a lowered voice, “She isn’t going to buy anything more, is she? I have to get home at time today for a change and its raining outside. I hate getting stuck in traffic jams due to rains.”

I had no idea about the rain but I didn’t care. I never resented a little walk in the rain. The girl was now pushing the door open and I could see a steady drizzle soaking up the sidewalk and road beyond it. She glanced back at us once and realised that it was our closing time. She stepped out of the shop and took shelter beneath the sun shade looking a bit impatient .  Boss nodded at me, “Hurry, hurry. Let’s go too.”

She shuffled hurriedly to the door and locked it as I stepped out staring again at the girl. If my boss noticed, she gave no indication. She just locked the door and asked if I need a lift. It was just a formality. My place was barely 10 minutes walk from the shop and she  had to drive to the opposite side. I had never been inside her car the  whole time I had worked there. I shook my head and she immediately
turned to sprint towards her car parked just in front. I watched the  fat woman run awkwardly in order to spare herself getting splashed by a few drops of water
on a walk of 3 meters. I wondered what’d happen to her fat body if she slipped and fell. I was sure that I’ll never be able to even help her up stand on her feet, let alone carry her to her car or somewhere.

The girl must have guessed what I was thinking, I don’t know how. Maybe by the worried smirk like expression on my face. She just remarked in a casual manner, “I’d be careful if I were in her place.” I looked towards her and grinned, Don’t worry about her. She is pretty experienced.”

She smiled back and said, “I sure hope so.” Then stretching her hands out of the shelter of sun roof she remarked, ” Looks like this rain is not going to stop anytime soon.”

I shrugged, “Who knows ! Do you have to go somewhere far ?”

” It isn’t that far. Just 12-15 minutes from here if you walk. But it’s raining  a bit too hard for the walk and I can’t seem to find a taxi. These idiots just disappear when you need them the most.”

I nodded sympathetically, “Happens. By  the way, if you don’t mind, would you like to join me for a cup of coffee  ? The shop is very near and they probably have the best coffee and donuts in the city.”

She chuckled and shrugged, ” Sure , why not ! Beats standing here and getting splashed by second hand rain water.”

I nodded enthusiastically and pointed out the coffee shop as best as I could. “There is that shop. I guess we’ll have to make a dash for it just like my boss if we don’t want to get wet.”

She laughed, “My god. Of all the people..not like her ! ”

We both rushed out of shelter of the sun-roof together and scrambled in to the coffee shop without getting too wet. The place wasn’t crowded at the time and we found my favourite table near the  glass window. We spent next 20-30 minutes talking over over coffee and doughnuts. I don’t really remember how they tasted. I was simply too occupied by our conversation to remember any other detail. I told her a little bit about where I lived and my home town along with a few other details. Turned out, she lived just 3 streets away from me in a rented house. There was a lot more that we told about ourselves to each other then and later, but I don’t remember too much of it. Another portion of my good memories seemingly lost.

The part I remember is both of us looking out of the window and waiting for the rain to stop which it never did. A steady drizzle kept on falling down all the time we were there. It didn’t looked like it’d stop any time soon. Somehow, I was happy for it
 We finished our coffees and donuts and were nibbling on last of our muffins, when she asked me, ” Do you like walking in rain ?”
I looked at her with a grin slowly forming on my face, “Of course I do. But we’ll not find any cab or auto now..”
She shook her head impatiently, “You are such a dumbass. Didn’t I say walking ? Or are you really afraid of a a little water ?”
I don’t think I was so sure but I didn’t want to give her a reason to complain, ” If you have no problem, I’m all for it. Lets take a walk.”
She giggled and picked up her bag, “Lets go then. I don’t want the rain to stop before we get out.”.
We stood on the door of coffee shop and looked at each other once, then I pushed the door open and we both stepped out. A whiff of wet cool air immediately hit us followed by hundreds of drops of rain. We both shivered a little and laughed. I think I was a little bit nervous but can’t be so sure now. Anyhow, we both stepped out in to the rain and nature greeted us with a big flash of lightning followed by deafening thunder. I’ve never been much afraid of thunder, but that one was big enough to give me a pause. She on the other hand seemed to enjoy it. She squealed with laughter and held my arm as zigzag lines of light tore in to the sky and the sound hit as a few moments later. The rain had drenched me cold to my bones by then but I could still feel the warmth of her hands on my arm. I saw her laughing and felt he voice in spite of thunder and I have never felt so content with my life ever since.
     Our plan was to walk a bit forward from my place towards her where we’d both part ways. But the rain increased it’s tempo and we found ourselves on the door of my flat soaked to our skin. I shivered  and struggled like a drunk to fit key in to lock. It was a mess inside but she made no comment.
 Walking with shoulders hunched, we searched for a clean towel to dry ourselves with. She rubbed her arms and moaned, ” All my clothes are soaked ! Wish I had worn shorts instead of these stupid jeans. “
I kept rummaging through the pile of clothes in cupboard and said, “Well, you had one pair right in your hands all this while.”
She probably rolled her eyes as she said this but I didn’t see, ” Where’d I changed smart ass ? In that cafe or on the road ?”
I finally found a spare clean towel and tshirt and tossed them on bed. Pointing them out to her I answered, “What about here, now ? Or you can have my shorts or anything else you find clean enough. “
She picked up the towel to dry her hair, “Not a bad idea. Where is your bathroom ?”
I pointed it out to her and she closed the door behind her. I was a little bit disappointed, again. I was still staring at the door when I heard her from inside, “Hey, don’t you have any mirror ? “
I answered, “Uh no. It broke a few days back.”
I still had the scars on my hand to show for it.
I shrugged off my stupor and changed in to some dry clothes of my own before she finished.  She came out a minute later dressed in one of my white tshirts and her blue shorts. Although the tshirt was a little big for her, she looked beautiful dressed like that. Her damp hair half covered her face and neck. I think I fell in love right then.
She saw me staring at her and raised her eyebrows, “What are you looking at ? Don’t I look horrible right now ? My hair is a mess and you don’t even have a mirror ! How can you live without one ? “
I raised my hands in protest, “No no. You look very beautiful like this. Really, I swear.”
She looked doubtfully at me, “Yeah right. Even a cow will get the same lines from you folks.”
I feigned a look of hurt innocence, “I’m hurt by your comment. I really think that you look beautiful and you think I’m saying this because I work at a sales counter ? “
It was her turn to look surprised, ” No… I didn’t mean that. I just thought that you were saying this just to preserve my feelings.”
“I know, I know. I was just kidding. But you really look great. Why’d I lie anyway ? Would you like something to eat or drink ? “
She looked out of the window at the pouring rain and thunder, “I’m not sure. I should be at my room by now.”
Just then a loud bolt of thunder struck and our windows rattled. Even I jumped a little. “Wow! I don’t think you’ll be able to go anywhere for quite some time now in this weather. It’d be better if you stay till it clears up “
She shrugged, “Yeah, it’s not like I can go outside in this weather anyway.”
I tried to remember if I had anything edible left, it wasn’t much. Still I asked, “Would you like anything to eat or drink ?”
She looked doubtful a and thought for a while before answering, “I’m not hungry at all. Those donuts and coffee filled me up. But still, something hot to drink would be nice.”
  There wasn’t much that I could offer her except the usual coffee and tea. She shook her head and said, “Naa, let’s just leave it. I’ve had enough caffeine for one day.”
I then said, “I have one bottle of vodka lying around. We can have that if you’d like.”
She looked pleased, “Really ? I haven’t had any booze since ages. “
I fished out the bottle from my cupboard and poured drinks for both of us. She first took a small sip, then emptied the glass in one go. She made a face then squealed, “Bottoms up!”
I looked doubtfully at my own glass weighing my choices. What choice did I have anyway ? I too held my breath and emptied it like her.  I hadn’t drunk anything in a really long time and the vodka virtually burned through my insides. I choked a little and she laughed out loud.
“No more alcohol for me tonight” I managed to croak out, causing her to make a face at me again. “You are much much older than you look. But I’m going to have one more.”
I nodded, “Yes. Be my guest.”
I held the empty glass in my hands and watched her pour another drink for herself. She held the glass in front of her nose and sniffed it like a wine connoisseur. Then she took a small sip and made a show of tasting the vodka by swilling it inside her mouth. Maybe I got drunk too soon, probably that’s why I held my stomach and laughed like crazy. She laughed hard too and squirted some of her drink out of her mouth. I think we were too drunk at that time to care or may be we were just too happy. It didn’t matter that time.
 She was still giggling when she exclaimed, ” Damn ! I spilled some on your tshirt ! I’m so sorry !”
I waved it away non-nonchalantly, ” Don’t worry about it. I have plenty to last me a lifetime. Just grab another from my closet.”
She nodded her head sagely, “Yes, yes, I know that you have your own shop. No shortage of clothes ever. Right ?”
I nodded back with a straight face, “True. Now why don’t you pick one for yourself. I feel too lazy to get  up and pick one for you.”
“As usual.” She pouted a little and walked up to the closet and picked 2-3.” Which one is OK ?”
I shrugged, “Not sure. Take any.”
She looked over one tshirt after the other and finally decided on a gray one. She put it against her neck to check it’s size to which I said, ” They are all the same size. If that one fit, this will too.”
She threw the rest on my face and picked the gray one. ” I’m going to change in to this one. Don’t try to look, pervert.”
She turned towards the wall with her back in front of me and took off the wet white tshirt.  I think I’m a pervert because I looked. Right now, when I’m thinking about it, I should have not done that. I can’t really say if things would have been better if I had not sneaked a look. But they could’ve been different. Whether for better or worse, again I don’t know.
Now these people tell me that I again had a relapse, because I had skipped my medications and was drunk. I know that no one will believe anything I say for my defense and it really doesn’t matter much anyhow. I just hope that … well, I don’t know what I hope for now. It all seems like a really strange dream. The kind of dream you suddenly wake up from and only remember fragments. You wake up and wonder for a while if it was real or not. Shudder or smile a little over what you remember and it”s memory goes away on it’s own moments later
Anyhow, coming back to my story, she was taking off her tshirt facing away from me and I could see her dressed only in her new shorts. My gaze went up slowly as she pulled the tshirt over her head, first over her ass, then her slim waist and then what seemed like a pair of white tree-branches attached to her shoulder blades. Flakes of some white thing that looked somewhat like clumps of disfigured feathers  were hanging haphazardly over them. It looked as if a beast with sharp claws had tried to rip off the wings of a dove but had been too lazy to perform a clean job The dove had escaped badly wounded and disgustingly crippled.
  It looked hideous and I gagged.  I put my face to the pillow and tried to fight off that sickening feeling. A few moments later I heard her voice but she seemed so distant that I couldn’t understand. Then I felt her hands on my back and head and heard her voice again. But I still couldn’t hear what she was trying to say. I felt scared and tried to roll away from her but she held me by my arms and tried to get me to answer. I put my face away from her and clenched my eyes shut as tightly as I could. I could tell by her grip on my arms that she was getting really worried and probably a bit scared too. But I don’t think that she was half as scared as i was.
 She tried to shout in to my ears and slapped my face in desperation. I think it was that moment when I completely lost it. Suddenly I threw her off me and jumped off the bed. I grabbed the bottle of vodka by the neck and smashed it’s bottom against the wall. She looked petrified as I walked towards her with that jagged piece of glass in my hand. Shards of broken glass pierced my soles but I walked over them. I could see her eyes wide open with fear, her mouth half-opened in a scream that was trapped in her throat. But none of that registered, All I could really see were those ugly, broken wings stretched across her shoulders over her head.
I tried to reason with her with my voice broken by scared, angry sobs, “Please, let me do this. These things don’t belong to you, you need to get rid of them.”
She slowly backed up against the wall and shook her head as panic slowly built up inside her, “Whaaat ?” She stuttered, “What things ?”
“The wings !”  I screamed, “Those damned ugly broken wings !! Get rid of them. Let me get rid of them for you.”
She looked even more startled, “Have you gone mad ? What wings ?”
I walked a couple of more steps towards her shaking my head. Some more shards of glass pressed deeper in to my feet. “Please let me help you. This might hurt a little but you’ll be more beautiful than ever after this.” Then I jumped towards her and tried to grab her. But she was quick and scampered out of my reach. But the broken bottle in my flailing hands managed to land a nasty cut on her left arm. She screamed with pain and jumped over my bed to the other side. “You’ve gone completely crazy ! Let me go ! Let me go and everything will be all right.”
I paid no heed to her pleas and climbed on bed. I stood up on my knees and shuffled slowly towards her. ” Don’t you see ? I’m the one trying to make everything all right. Please …”
I couldn’t finish what I was about to say as I was suddenly blinded by extreme burning sensation on my eyes and face. Somehow she had managed to grab hold of her pepper-spray can and had sprayed it all over me without me knowing she even had one. Glass fragments on soles were one thing, but a pepper spray on eyes blinded me immediately and I fell on my back howling with pain. Last thing I remember is something heavy hitting my head 2-3 times. Then I passed out.
Now I’m sitting in this white tiled room with my hands and feet firmly strapped to this uncomfortable chair.  A man in white doctor’s coat is sitting in front of me with a thick file in his hand. Somehow he looks familiar. I squint my eyes and try to remember.  I try really hard, then I feel too tired and let my neck go limp to my side.  I focus my eyes on tip of my nose and smile. I can see another vague shape in white standing just behind the doctor. I try to bring that shape in to focus. It turns out to be a nurse. Thick, fat one at that. I smile again at her. I see her mouth moving as if she is saying something and gesturing with her hands. I look towards the direction she is pointing to and I see the doctor holding a newspaper clipping right in front of my nose.  He too is saying something but his voice is tinny and coming from a long distant tunnel.
I smile and shake my head but both seem earnest that I look towards ths clipping. I roll my eyes in a good natured way and try to read that paper that they seem to be so concerned about. headline of that news article reads, ” Crazy salesgirl assaults her own customer”
I shake my head slowly in mock sympathy.  I want to say something but don’t feel like it. But they still are not satisfied.  The doctor pushes the paper closer to my face and I focus on it again. It reads,
  ” A young woman was attacked last night by the sales girl of a local clothing store in latter’s house. According to the sources, the salesgirl had met and befriended the victim yesterday in the clothing store. They left together after closing time and stopped in salesgirl’s home at night due to heavy rains. There, they both had some alcohol following which she suddenly broke the bottle of which they were drinking and attacked her new friend. The victim managed to overpower her attacker with the help of a pepper-spray but suffered a few nasty cuts in process. Apparently, that salesgirl  had a long running history of mental illness and had been on medications which she apparently skipped. As of now, she has been placed in an undisclosed institution.”
I smile and shrug. Both the doctor and nurse look at each other and exchange some words. He gets up from the chair and walks slowly to my side. He pulls out a photo from his file and puts it in front of me. It’s her. I smile and nod. Now, I hear him say, ” Do you remember her ?”
“Yes.” I nod my head.
” Was she nice to you ?”
“Yes.” I nod again.
” Did you ever had any argument or fight of some kind ?”
This time I shake my head, “No.”
“You read and understood that news clipping I showed you, right ?”
“Yes.”
He takes a deep breath and asks in even more gentler voice, ” She, your friend that is, says that you attacked her with a broken vodka bottle for no reason. Is it true ?”
I turn my neck to look at him in the eyes,”I didn’t attack her. I just wanted to remove her ugly broken wings. I just wanted to make her beautiful.”
Doctor and nurse both exchange glances again. Then he says again, “You’ve been saying that ever since you got here. But that girl never had any wings to begin with. Everyone who ever knew him says the same. Humans don’t have any wings.”
I shake my head and reply, ” But I’m telling you doctor. I saw her hideous wings with my own eyes. She is so pretty and they were just rotting off and looked hideous on her. I thought maybe  I could get rid of them from her. I don’t know how she thought that I wanted to harm her. I’ll never hurt anybody you know.”
He crouches down to bring his face to my eye level and looks closely at me, ” Do you remember who am I ?”
I remember it right then and answer, ” Yes ! You are the doctor from that ugly hospital who gave me those pills. They really helped !”
He smiles at me with a painful expression and turns his face towards the floor. As he runs his hands through his hair I hear him exhale deeply, “Apparently not enough.”
 I think I didn’t hear it all and first look at nurse then again at the doctor who is still rubbing his head, “Huh ? “
He stands up and smiles with the same pained expression. “Nothing really. I need to go right now. I’ll be back to see you later.”
As he pushes all of his papers inside the folder I look at him and say, “It’s nice to see you again.”
This time he doesn’t looks at me when he says, “It’s been nice to see you too kiddo.” and turns to leave.  A piece of paper slips from the file and lands near my feet. It’s the same news clipping that he had made me read a few minutes ago. I think there is a thing common between the two. Both don’t seem really truthful. I shrug to myself, “Hmmm… It’s not like I can do anything about it.”
The End


I’m 27 too :D
Not dead though :(

Jim Morrison
Dead: July 3, 1971, 27 years and 207 days, cause of death listed as “heart failure”
Band: The Doors

Kurt Cobain
Dead: April 5, 1994, 27 years and 44 days, ruled as suicide by shotgun
Band: Nirvana

Alan “Blind Owl” Wilson
Dead: September 3, 1970, Barbiturate overdose, possible suicide
Band: Canned Heat

Ron “Pigpen” McKernan
Dead: March 8, 1973, Gastrointestinal hemorrhage associated with alcoholism
Band: Grateful Dead

Les Harvey
Dead: May 3, 1972, Electrocution by live microphone after touching it with his wet hands
Band: Stone the Crows

Dave Alexander
Dead: February 10, 1975, Pulmonary edema
Band: Stooges

Janis Joplin
Dead: October 4, 1970, 27 years and 258 days, heroin overdose
Band: The Kozmic Blues Band and Full Tilt Boogie Band

Jimi Hendrix
Dead: eptember 18, 1970, 27 years and 295 days, asphyxiated on vomit after combining sleeping pills with wine
Band: The Jimi Hendrix Experience and Band of Gypsys

Brian Jones
Dead: July 3, 1969, 27 years and 125 days, drowned in a swimming pool
Band: Rolling Stones

Amy Winehouse
Dead: July 23, 2011, 27 years and 313 days, probable heroin overdose

List and photos from acidcow.com

Another link Kurt Cobain | Amy joins Club 27 

Following conversations are the ones I find slightly amusing  when I look back on them now. A friend gave me the idea to  write them all into a blog post.

To MJ:- I still have copyright  :p

1)

 

This incident happened yesterday I was troubleshooting some problem for my coal-league on phone..signal was low…so had to speak loud.. Went like
ME: Check the blue cable and its other end…where is it terminated?
How many ports..bla bla bla are u getting link?? bla bla bla

There was a girl nearby..listening to all this. As sooon as I stopped talking she turned to me

Girl: Are you an engine-ear?

Me:yes

Girl:Really?? In electronics?

Me:Yeah, sort of. A network engine-ear

Girl:Where?
Me: Working in a BSNL project
Girl:humm…tabhi yahaan mobile nahi chalte
Me: Main mobile mein nahi, broadband section mein hun.
Girl: Broadband kyaa??
Me: Internet.

Girl: yahaan internet kee speeed bhee barri kam hai

ME: alright

After sometime…

Girl: Can you tell me something..
Me: ???
Girl: agar maine ye check karnaa ho kee maine 2000 mein koun se site access kiye, to iske liye mujhe kyaa karnaa hogaa??
Me: [Mentally bangs head on the table] Aisa karna ummm possible nahin hai. You can check your internet history in your browser.. it depends on your settings.
Girl:noo..no.kyaa aap check kar sakte hain??
Me: bla bla
Girl: and ..and??
ME: Sighsss…launches into a lengthy explainashun
Girl: Geee..thats neat
Me: sure sure
Girl: am an scientist..i want to change the world i’ll make this city capital of India bla bla bla
Me:[[Tries to be polite..tries to not ignore..
after sometime tries to shut ears ]]
Girl: Bla bla bla bla bla bla

 

2)

 

This conversahun isnt berry phunny…but still now it happpens that a frand of mine owns a 80GB hard-disk while I had to manage witha 40GB one. Went on for some time. Then I upgraded my PC..160GB hdd Bumped into him after sometime and topic turned to that

Me: Ab mere paas 64 bit processor, 1 GB RAM, 160 GB HDD, nVidia graphics card hai.
Tere paas kya hai??

Frand: Mere paas german shepherd doggy hai.

Me: :|

3)

 

Karishma: oi, i donno two ppl who are postin currently in nkt, who’re they?
me: who 2? i dont know that guy with strange font either hes frand of shammo so is that girl anyways u didnt post
Karishma: i am postin honey i am hoe n distat echo
me: honey i am hoe—rotfl hes dhruv still rotfl
Karishma: home** sorry’s
me: < wait till i post this on nkot rolls lafing
Karishma: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

4)
This happened at a shop. There was a woman before me.

Woman: Bhaiya, 12 ande dena.
Me: [[Chuckles]]
Shopkeeper: um…acha [wry face]
Woman: [[Embarassed]] [[Clears throat]]
Me: [[trying to hide my grin]]

After the dealing was over..
shopkeeper to me (woman is still there) –Jee bhai..aapko kya chahiye
Me: ummmm ande??
Woman: [[grins]]
Shopkeeper: okaaaay

 

5)

 

I had a particularly annoying “coversation” with a BSNL dude who happened to be a kashmiri. I came out fuming started my rant against the whole bloody race with my colleague who happens to be a kashmiri too.

Me: ^%%%* &^^ kashmiri *&*&^&%&^ (&*^%@ Inkee (*((*(*& pataa kuch hai nahin ore faltoo mein sawaal poochenge *&$#!

Kashmiri Colg. : Oye, main bhee kashmiri hoon

Me: so…???

KC: umm..kuch nahin We came out of the exchange and bumped into our manager who just came out of a meeting with some more kashmiris who work for BSNL.

He is a kashmiri too.

KC: Sir, kyaa huaa?

Manager: ye **&@! kashmiri…!! 1 no. ke ^#@@ hain. akal hai hee nahin *&^% Ko.

KC: <>

Me:ROTFL

6)

 

An old relative talking to me. Went something like that After understanding that my work involves something to do with computers)
N: Can you repair computers??
Me: yes
N: Can you make computers too??
Me: uh, yes.
N: there was a guy. Lived in the next lane. Very intelligent, nice kind of person. He did engineering too and opened some shop. he sold and repaired computers
Me: (wondering–why is everyhing in past tense)
N: he died last week in some accidnet. it was so tragic
Me: uhh? oh yes. it is.

7)

 

This dude is actually a good frand of mine . He calls me one day

Bh : Oye, ye bataa Tragedy Office kanhaa hai??
Me: Tragedy office ????

Bh: हाँ हाँ. तेरे घर के साथ तो है. *** बैंक की बिल्डिंग के साथ

Me : Tragedy office ???? ये कौन सा नया department खुल गया?

Bh: अबे साले.. वो लाल रंग की बिल्डिंग जो है.

Me: (Pause) ट्रेजेडी के spelling बोल

Bh:खोता.. वही जो होता है.

Me: तेरा मतलब Treasury office तो नहीं है ??

Bh: जो मर्जी हो तेरे area में ही है ना??

Me: साले , TRAGEDY नहीं, TREASURY है .

Bh: जो भी है मेरे यहाँ, सारे यही बोलते हैं.

Me: aah.. i see.

 

8)

Read this banner some place couldnt help grinning like an idiot गोली लाठी चलायें गे राम सेतु बचाएं गे

9)

A Sikh guy who happens to be my colleague: (pointing to my overgrown hair) ओये, इस घोंसले में कितनी चिडिया रहती हैं?? हें हें हें हेंहें हेंहें हेंहें हें

Me : Duhhh

Him: तेरे सिर के बालों की बात कर रहां हूँ. ये क्या घोंसला बना कर रखा है ? हें हें हें हें हें हें हें हें हें हें

Me: कमीने, तू अपने सिर पर एक पक्का मकान बनाकर रख सकता है तो मेरे घोंसले से क्या तकलीफ हो रही है ?

 

Him: हें यें हें हें यें यें

10)

We were working in a telephone exchange. Loads of landline phones lying around. I ask  a coal-league to give me “his” mobile phone.

Me:अपना फ़ोन देना.

That dude picks up a landline and holds it out

Me: huh???

MS:पकढ़ ना !!

Me: ओये… मैंने तेरा फ़ोन मंगा है.

MS: मेरा फ़ोन??: ये मोबाइल होता है holding the landline) ओर ये फ़ोन तुझे जो चाहिए, वो बोल

Me: Deep Breaths. 1-2-4-9-6-8-3-……..

MS: (Smugly) समझ आया ??

Me: Grrrrrr

Now it happened that me and my colleague (Zubair) were lazing in front of a road side tea stall.
I glance bhind his shoulder and see a truck coming in a zig-zag kind of way..like the driver is drunk

It comes closer and I see that its on fire. It was carrying hay and it caught fire somehow.
i start grinning ( :) and said “Us truck ko dekh”
He glances behind and nearly jumps out of his skin..”oye, us mein to aag lagee hai.

Me: – Yes

Zubair :- (In a panicky voice) Oye ..wo idhar hee aa raha hai

Me:- (Grinning even more) haan

In the meanwhile, 3-4 bales of hay fell down from the truck, partially blocking the road.

Zubair:- **&^%$$.. ye to khatarnaak (dangerous) ho gaya hai

Me: – haan haan

(:D)

Now the truck was 40-50 metres away and trying to locate fire brigade people
It was on the first turn..but in panic driver missed the turn and started coming towards us as theree was a bit of ground to make a turn.

Zubair:- (Really scared) wo truck idhar hee aa raha hai

Me:- haan. aaag bhee barr gayee hai
Saale ko itnaa barra fire station nahi dikha.

Now the truck reached us and started to make the turn

Zubair- (In real panic)oye peeche ho !!
peeche ho
barra khatra hai yaar. Truck wala paagal ho gaya hai.

Me:- (I start laughing again)Saale kanhaa hogaa. Itnee jagah hai. morr lega wo truck

Zubair:- ***&^%$%$%&)(* barree heat nikal rahee hai

:-s

Somehow driver managed to loacte and take his truck into the fire station

Zubair: -Shukar hai pahunch gaya

ME:- he he. main soch raha tha..agar aag fuel tank tak pahunch jaatee to truck explode hota ya nahin

Zubair:- Ab to nahi hoone wala. Fire brigade waale paani fenk rahein hai uspar

Me:- Koi baat nahi. 1 aur aa raha hai waise hee condition mein

Zubair:- (Glances back and exclaims)..oye ek aur truck mein aag lagi hai yaar. Wo bhee idhar hee aa rahaa hai

Me: (grining) haan

But driver of that truck located the fire station quickly and took it there.

Zubair: – (looking releived)
Chal ab hum bhee chaalk kar dekh te hain

Me:- hain?

Zubair:- Abe chal na. chal ke dekhte hain..kaise aag bhujate hain

Me:- khote..kya hai dekhne waala isme??

Zubair:- chal na. chal na

Me:- *&*(&)(*  acha acha

We spend nxt 20 minutes watching fire being put out

(yawn)
We were not alone..there was a sizeable crowd around. All morons like us gaping at firemen doing their work

After 20 minutes
Me:- Mujhe lagta hai…(:|) kee mujhe kaafi farak hai

Zubair:- kaise??

Me:- wanhaa 2 truck mein aag lagee thee..aur main hans rahaa thaa

Zubair:- (thoughtful)..haan wo to hai he (shrug)

Me:- hmmmm

A young and pretty lady posted this on a popular forum: 
Title: What should I do to marry a rich guy? 

I’m going to be honest of what I’m going to say here. I’m 25 this year. 
I’m very pretty, have style and good taste. I wish to marry a guy with 
$500k annual salary or above. You might say that I’m greedy, but an 
annual salary of $1M is considered only as middle class in New York. My 
requirement is not high. Is there anyone in this forum who has an income 
of $500k annual salary? Are you all married? I wanted to ask: what 
should I do to marry rich persons like you? Among those I’ve dated, the 
richest is $250k annual income, and it seems that this is my upper 
limit. If someone is going to move into high cost residential area on 
the west of New York City Garden, $250k annual income is not enough. 

I’m here humbly to ask a few questions: 
1) Where do most rich bachelors hang out? (Please list down the 
names and addresses of bars, restaurant, gym) 
2) Which age group should I target? 
3) Why most wives of the riches is only average-looking? I’ve 
met a few girls who doesn’t have looks and are not interesting, but they 
are able to marry rich guys 
4) How do you decide who can be your wife, and who can only be 
your girlfriend? (my target now is to get married) 

Ms. Pretty 

Here’s a reply from a Wall Street Financial guy: 

Dear Ms. Pretty, 

I have read your post with great interest. Guess there are lots of girls 
out there who have similar questions like yours. Please allow me to 
analyze your situation as a professional investor. My annual income is 
more than $500k, which meets your requirement, so I hope everyone 
believes that I’m not wasting time here. From the standpoint of a 
business person, it is a bad decision to marry you. The answer is very 
simple, so let me explain. Put the details aside, what you’re trying to 
do is an exchange of “beauty” and “money”: Person A provides beauty, and 
Person B pays for it, fair and square. However, there’s a deadly 
problem here, your beauty will fade, but my money will not be gone 
without any good reason. The fact is, my income might increase from 
year to year, but you can’t be prettier year after year. Hence from the 
viewpoint of economics, I am an appreciation asset, and you are a 
depreciation asset. It’s not just normal depreciation, but exponential 
depreciation. If that is your only asset, your value will be much 
worried 10 years later 

By the terms we use in Wall Street, every trading has a position, dating 
with you is also a “trading position”. If the trade value dropped we 
will sell it and it is not a good idea to keep it for long term – same 
goes with the marriage that you wanted. It might be cruel to say this, 
but in order to make a wiser decision any assets with great depreciation 
value will be sold or “leased”. Anyone with over $500k annual income 
is not a fool; we would only date you, but will not marry you. I would 
advice that you forget looking for any clues to marry a rich guy. And by 
the way, you could make yourself to become a rich person with $500k 
annual income. This has better chance than finding a rich fool. 

Hope this reply helps. If you are interested in “leasing” services, do 

contact me…

Economics 101: Models explained – with Cows 


SOCIALISM: You have 2 cows, so you give one to your neighbour. 

COMMUNISM: You have 2 cows. The State takes both and gives you some milk. 

FASCISM: You have 2 cows. The State takes both and sells you some milk. 

NAZISM: You have 2 cows. The State takes both and shoots you. 

TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM: You have two cows. You sell one and buy a bull. Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows. You sell them and retire on the income. 

MALAYSIAN BUMIPUTRAISM: You have two cows, the State takes one and gives it to your bumiputra neighbour. From the milk you sell from the remaining cow you buy a bull and mulitply your herd. The State take 30 per cent of your herd as it grows and give them to your bumiputra neigbour. Your bumiputra neighbour has a kenduri each time they receive a cow. 

UMNOPUTRAISM : The State takes 30 per cent of your herd and parks them in Switzerland in the name of some UMNO official or close relatives, friends and sons-in-law. 

MALAYSIAN GOVERNMENT LINKED OR BUMIPUTRA CORPORATION : You have two cows. You employ mainly bumiputras to milk them. But both cows have been sent to the kenduri, so the State gives you more cows and write off the losses of the first two. After several kenduris later, you invite an American or German Corporation to turnaround the losses. The Japanese have however already taken their two original cows back home to Japan. 

AN AMERICAN CORPORATION: You have two cows. You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk of four cows.Later, you hire a consultant to analyse why the cow has dropped dead. 

ENRON VENTURE CAPITALISM: You have two cows. You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a debt/equity swap with an associated general offer so that you get all four cows back, with a tax exemption for five cows. The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a Cayman Island Company secretly owned by the majority shareholder who sells the rights to all seven cows back to your listed company. The annual report says the company owns eight cows, with an option on one more. Sell one cow to buy a new president of the United States, leaving you with nine cows. No balance sheet provided with the release. The public buys your bull. 

A FRENCH CORPORATION: You have two cows. You go on strike, organise a riot, and block the roads, because you want three cows. 

A JAPANESE CORPORATION: You have two cows. You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk. You then create a clever cow cartoon image called ‘Cowkimon’ and market it worldwide. 

A GERMAN CORPORATION: You have two cows. You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and milk themselves. 

AN ITALIAN CORPORATION: You have two cows, but you don’t know where they are. You decide to have lunch. 

A RUSSIAN CORPORATION: You have two cows. You count them and learn you have five cows. You count them again and learn you have 42 cows. You count them again and learn you have 2 cows. You stop counting cows because you’re sobering up and open another bottle of vodka. 

A SWISS CORPORATION: You have 5,000 cows. None of them belong to you. You charge the owners for storing them. 

A CHINA CORPORATION: You have two cows. You have 300 people milking them. You claim that you have full employment, and high bovine productivity, and arrest the newsman who reported the real situation. 

AN INDIAN CORPORATION: You have two cows. You worship them 

A BRITISH CORPORATION: You have two cows. Both are mad. 

IRAQI CORPORATION: Everyone thinks you have lots of cows. You tell them that you have none. No-one believes you, so they bomb you and invade your country. You still have no cows, but at least now you are part of a Democracy…. 

IRISH CORPORATION: You have two cows…or is it three? What matters? Aren’t you well off to have even one 

ISLAMIC SHARIAH CORPORATION: You have 2 cows. You slit their throats and celebrate. Then you tell the people that the infidels have stolen your cows, and that fighting the infidel will earn a reward of 72 Golden Calves in heaven.

ISRAELI CORPORATION: You have 2 cows. You kill 2 cows and claim that was a holocost and genocide against jewish cows. So, you steal 3 palistinian cows.

The KERALA COW: You have 2 cows. You can’t milk them yourself. You must employ a member of All India Cow Milker’s Union (CITU) to milk them. Of course you have the option to milk them yourself after you pay the wages to the union. 

You must keep paying even when the cows are not producing, or even after they are dead. 

You can’t buy another cow, or replace the present cow with an increased productivity one, because that is going to increase the workload of the labour. If you try, the state will shut down in a hartal. 

You can’t sell off the cows and stop the business, because it will result in loss of employment to the labour. If you try, the state will shut down in a hartal. 

Your neighbour can’t open a milk booth, because that is going to assist the multinational monopolies and result in loss of employment to the labour. If he tries, the state will shut down in a hartal. 

The local store can’t sell milk powder because that is going to assist the multinational monopolies and result in loss of employment to the labour. If he tries, the state will shut down in a hartal. 

You must pay bonus at the statutory maximum of 20% every year. If you don’t, you will be gheraoed till you die of dehydration. 

When one milker leaves you, you must pay gratuity and severance pay, even if he is leaving you for the next door cow-owner. 

There is unwritten quotas of milk produced per cow per milking. The milking will be stopped after achieving the quota. The quotas do not appear in any document, and the union will deny their existence. Since they do not exist, they can’t be negotiated.

A Bengali Poem

Through the jongole I am went 
On shooting Tiger I am bent 
Boshtaard Tiger has eaten wife 
No doubt I will avenge poor darling’s life 
Too much quiet, snakes and leeches 
But I not fear these sons of beeches 
Hearing loud noise I am jumping with start 
But noise is coming from damn fool’s heart 
Taking care not to be fright 
I am clutching rifle tight with eye to sight 
Should Tiger come I will shoot and fall him down 
Then like hero return to native town 
Then through trees I am espying one cave 
I am telling self – “Bannerjee be brave” 
I am now proceeding with too much care 
From far I smell this Tiger’s lair 
My leg shaking, sweat coming, I start to pray 
I think I will shoot Tiger some other day 
Turning round I am going to flee 
But Tiger giving bloody roar spotting this Bengalee 
He bounding from cave like football player Pele 
I run shouting 
“Kali Ma tumi kothay gele” 
Through the jongole I am running 
With Tiger on my tail closer looming 
I am a telling that never in life 
I will risk again for my damn fool wife!!!!

There’s Nothing Rajni Can’t 

* Outer space exists because it’s afraid to be on the same planet with Rajnikant. 

* Rajnikant has counted to infinity — twice. 

* When Rajnikant does a pushup, he isn’t lifting himself up, he’s pushing earth down. 

* Rajnikant is so fast, he can run around the world and punch himself in the back of the head. 

* Rajnikant doesn’t wear a watch, HE decides what time it is. 

* Rajnikant gave Mona Lisa that smile. 

* Rajnikant can slam a revolving door. 

* Rajnikant’s house has no doors, only walls that he walks through. 

* Rajnikant grinds his coffee with his teeth and boils the water with his own rage. 

* If you Google search ‘Rajnikant getting kicked’, you will generate zero results. It just doesn’t happen. [At the time of posting this, Google generated 18 results for me. How many does it generate for you?] 

* It takes Rajnikant 20 minutes to watch 60 Minutes. 

* The Bermuda Triangle used to be the Bermuda Square, until Rajnikant kicked one of the corners off. 

* There are no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq; Rajnikant lives in Chennai. 

* Rajnikant once at an entire bottle of sleeping pills. They made him blink. 

* The only things that run faster and longer than Rajnikant are his films. 

* Rajnikant’s every step creates a mini whirlwind. Hurricane Katrina was the result of a morning jog. 

* Where there is a will, there is a way. Where there is Rajnikant, there is no other way. 

There is no theory of evolution. Just a list of creatures Rajnikant has allowed to live. 

There are no races, only countries of people Rajnikant has beaten to different shades of black and blue. 

Rajnikant can divide by zero. 

Newton’s Third Law is wrong: Although it states that for each action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, there is no force equal in reaction to a Rajnikant turnaround kick. 

When taking the GRE, write “Rajnikant” for every answer. You will score over 1600. 

Rajnikant has 12 moons. One of those moons is the Earth. 

An old English dictionary dating back to 1236. It defined “victim” as “one who has encountered Rajnikant”. 

Rajnikant can drink an entire gallon of milk in thirty-seven seconds. 

Rajnikant doesn’t bowl strikes, he just knocks down one pin and the other nine faint. 

James Cameron wanted Rajnikant to play the Terminator. However, upon reflection, he realized that would have turned his movie into a documentary, so he went with Arnold Schwarzenegger. 

Thousands of years ago Rajnikant came across a bear. It was so terrified that it fled north into the arctic. It was also so terrified that all of its descendants now have white hair.

Top 10 Weird laws of the world 

http://www.buzzle.com/editorials/11-28-2005-82527.asp

Number 10: Most Middle Eastern countries recognize the following Islamic law: “After having sexual relations with a lamb, it is a mortal sin to eat its flesh.” (umm OK, I’m sure the lamb appreciates that one) 

Number 9: In Lebanon, men are legally allowed to have sex with animals, but the animals must be female. Having sexual relations with a male animal is punishable by death. (OK, like THAT makes sense…) 

Number 8: In Bahrain, a male doctor may legally examine a woman’s genitals, but is forbidden from looking directly at them during the examination. He may only see their reflection in a mirror. (Ouch!) 

Number 7: Muslims are banned from looking at the genitals of a corpse. This also applies to undertakers; the sex organs of the deceased must be covered with a brick or a piece of wood at all times. (…a brick?) 

Number 6: The penalty for masturbation in Indonesia is capitation. (Wonder how they enforce that one?) 

Number 5: There are men in Guam whose full-time job is to travel the countryside and deflower young virgins, who pay them for the privilege of having sex for the first time. Reason: under Guam law, it is expressly forbidden for virgins to marry. (Now let’s just think for a minute…is there any job anywhere else in the world that even comes close to this?) 

Number 4: In Hong Kong, a betrayed wife is legally allowed to kill her adulterous husband, but may only do so with her bare hands. (The husband’s lover, on the other hand, may be killed in any manner desired. COOL) 

Number 3: Topless saleswomen are legal in Liverpool, England, but only in tropical fish stores. (Of course!) 

Number 2: In Santa Cruz, Bolivia it is illegal for a man to have sex with a woman and her daughter at the same time. (We have to presume this was a big enough problem that they had to pass this law…) 

And the wierdest law in the world is… 

In Cali, Colombia, a woman may only have sex with her husband, and the first time this happens her mother must be in the room to witness the act. (I shudder at the thought. How many of us would be virgins today?)


Top 10 Facts About Top 10 Facts 

http://madconomist.com/top-10-facts-about-top-10-facts

1. Most of the times at least one fact is made up to make sure there are really ten facts. 

2. Regardless of how stupid these Top 10 are, those posts quickly rise to the top of Reddit, Digg, Mixx, StumpleUpon, Delicious and other social bookmarking sites. Just because it’s Top 10. 

3. Most of the Top 10 articles are written when there is nothing else to write about or when a person has no clue about the subject he or she is writing about. 

4. Only items 1 through 3 really matter. The other 7 can go in any order and nothing will change. 

5. The more Top 10 is used, the more shallow and pseudointellectual that particular niche is. Don’t believe me? Try finding a Top 10 list in a nuclear physics textbook and then compare it with Cool Magazine or MTV. 

6. You don’t actually have to know most of the facts that are listed in any article that is titled ‘Top 10 facts you need to know about …’ 

7. Google indexes over 35 400 different Top 10 Facts, scientific term for which is “a whole shitload”. 

8. The most popular post on this very blog is 10 Million Dollar Ideas That Shouldn’t Have Worked. 

9. Nobody ever remembers what number 9 in the Top 10 was. 

10. There has never been a Top 10 article called “Top 10 Ways To Rape A Donkey”.

A Terrorists Tale 

By Mohammed Asha, MD Board Certified Gastroenterologist and former Jihad Associate, al Qaeda UK 

Ever have “one of those days?” Sure, all of us go through the occasional rough patch, but I swear there are times when I think Allah must really have it in for me. I mean, I know the “Big Guy” is supposed to have a sense of humor, but do I always have to be the punch line? 

Take for example this last week. A few mates and I had been planning a big martyrdom weekend for quite a while; it’s something we first began discussing a few years ago in medical school back in Amman. We were sitting around the dorm eating pizza, cramming for a big anatomy final, when Ali said “you know, after graduation, we should get together for something really big.” We talked about a fishing trip to Canada or something, but most of the guys thought that sounded pretty boring. Abdul suggested a golf weekend in Cancun, but the all-inclusives there can get pretty pricey in-season. Hassan (who’s really into motorcycles) suggested renting Harleys and going to Sturgis for the Biker Rally, but we heard that crowd can get pretty rowdy. 

Anyhow, Achmed finally says, “how about packing cars with explosives and killing hundreds of random infidels in a coordinated series of gigantic fireballs?” And we’re like, ‘******’ A!’ Not only would we be it an awesome bonding experience (with plenty of Paradise poontang, LOL), we would be doing a valuable community service. Okay, so we high-fived and made a solemn promise that we’d target two years after graduation for the big weekend prank blowout. 

I know how it usually goes with these kinds of fraternity things; what with starting up a medical practice, honor killing obligations, and starting a family, it’s easy to lose touch with the old school buddies. But this thing — [our thing] — was serious, you know? Thanks to email we were able to keep in touch and keep the plan going. As luck would have it, we all won Achmedinijad scholarships to do our residencies in England for the National Health Service. We got our families together most every weekend for backyard cookouts and self-flagellation and TV football matches. Afterwards me and the other guys would slip out to the garage for cigars, and to pack shrapnel. 

So okay, the big weekend arrives, and the guys come over to my place bright and early, everybody’s jazzed about rolling up some kafir carnage. All the propane tanks and propellant and nail cannisters are ready to go. I look at Ali and say, “okay mate, back up your car to the garage and I’ll start loading it up.” He gets this dumbstruck look on his face and says, “my car? I thought Hassan was going to do the martyrdom.” And then Hassan does a massive spit-take with his tea, and he’s like, “whoa dude, I rigged the cell phones, I didn’t agree to blow up. I thought Achmed was going to do the blowing up.” Then Achmed’s like, “don’t look at me, pal, I thought I was just providing the spiritual guidance. Plus my car’s in the shop for transmission work.” From there it just descended into this big shouting match. Holy frickin’ prophet, two years of planning this prank and now everybody wants to pussy out on the actual martyrdom. Long story short, we decided to draw straws. And guess who wins? Yep, yours truly, good old sucker Mohammed, the same guy with a pile of charge card receipts for petrol and propane and hardware. The same guy who ended up having to host two thirds of the martyrdom planning parties at HIS house, because his good old college “pals” always have some convenient excuse about “kitchen remodeling” or “MI6 surveillance,” and never lift a finger to help clean up the empty bottles or paper plates or the C5 mess. Well, you know what they say: no good deed goes unpunished. Then the other short straw get pulled by Bilal, and I’m like, oh, great. Now I’ll be banging some celestial virgin with that wanker looking over my shoulder. 

So, I’m like, “okay, whose donating the cars?” And these dicks just look around at each other, and ANOTHER big argument breaks out, because “I still have 28 payments left,” or “it’s due for a tire rotation,” or some other lame excuse. So we draw straws again to pick the explosion cars, and guess who wins? Yup, my Benz, the same ****** car I just paid £129.95 to have detailed. So I go to the house and tell my wife Jumanah about the whole deal, and here it comes – [The Look]. Complete with the whole exasperated eye roll and head shake. I swear, if her dad wasn’t my uncle, I’d be tempted to smack that irritating sneer right off her face. So she’s like, “fine, go have your fun with your lazy jihad buddies and your 72 virgins. Just leave me the keys to the Jeep so I can get groceries.” 

After that, I guess I was pretty much ready to get it over with. I called up the office and had them cancel the rest of my patient appointments for the day and drove the Benz to London, which incidentally cost me another £40 for gas and tolls. When I got to Picadilly and parked in front of the nightclub and called Achmed on my cell to let ‘er rip. Nothing. I sat there waiting 3 minutes waiting for the cell phone detonator to go off, nothing. I saw a cop walking toward the Benz, so I hopped out and started booking it and almost got run over by a double decker. I got on the Tube, thinking I was safe, but then all the stupid racist kafirs started giving me the stink eye because apparently they’re freaked by panting Arabs smelling of gasoline. I got out in Ealing and went to the mosque where the other guys were supposed to be, and they’re all standing around like a bunch of sheepish idiots. So I’m like, “WTF? What happened with the detonation?” Get this: Achmed, whose only job it was to call in a simple ****** detonation code, switched his cell carrier to get the new iPhone and forgot to transfer his goddamn detonation contact list. So I’m like, “how about Bilal? Did he explode? Please tell me exploded.” The dopey expressions around the room told me otherwise. Faaaack. Now there’s NO dead infidels, NO horny virgins, and I’m out one leased Mercedes with a £12,000 balloon payment. 

So I go, “here’s the deal guys. I just put my ass on the martrydom line, and it was Allah’s will that it didn’t happen. So why don’t we just call it good, and try again in another two years.” Crissakes, you would have thought I just took a dump in their falafel. They started talking about “Ummah Pride,” and “giving it all for ol’ Central Jordan U…” 

So I said fine, let’s draw straws again. Because, hey, what are the odds of me pulling martyrdom duty twice in a row? Guess I should have been a stat major, because there I was holding the short stick again. When Bilal pulled the other short stick, I just went ahead and volunteered my Jeep because I figured the way this day was going it was gonna get blown up one way or the other. 

When Bilal and I got back to my house Jumanah had just gotten back from Tesco and was unloading groceries. “I thought you were supposed to be in Paradise by now,” she said, in that stupid irritating voice. “Change of plans,” I said. “We need to head up to Glasgow to blow up the airport.” Here it came again. [The Look]. “Um, and we need to use the Jeep.” [The Look] X 2. “And our faces are all over the TV, so we need you to drive us.” I won’t even bother trying to describe her face at that point. We loaded up the rest of the explosive cannisters in the back of the Jeep and headed north on the M1 in the middle of the out-of-town holiday rush traffic. Jumanah pretty much seethed the entire way, complaining about the traffic and the gasoline fumes. Needless to say when we finally got to Glasgow and dropped her off at a roadside cafe, I was pretty much geared up for the sweet release of death. 

Okay, so Bilal and I get psyched up, check all the equipment to make sure it’s ready for a big boom, point the Jeep at the terminal, and mash the throttle. I’m shouting “Allahu Akbar,” and Bilal’s shouting “Allahu Akbar” and “Go Martyrs” just like the old pep squad days at CJU. And I’m thinking, “oil up them virgins Allah, ’cause Dr. Mo’s luck is about to change.” BAAAAM! Right into the glass. 

I was probably out for a two, three seconds. Bilal and I peeled our broken noses out of the airbags, which meant we were still alive, which meant the goddamn cannisters didn’t explode, again. Maybe we went through into the terminal and killed some infidels, I thought, then I saw we hadn’t made it in more than a couple inches into the terminal. I mean, WTF? The Jeep salesman kept going on about how the Jeep was this awesome unstoppable American SUV that crusader cowboys use to bulldoze their way through mountain forests, with an easy payment plan, and the damn thing can’t make it through a bloody plate glass window. I restart the engine and now the piece of shit just sits there spinning the tyres. “All wheel traction,” my arse. 

Okay, plan B. Bilal and I start pushing backup detonation buttons and cell codes. A couple of pops, but they were all duds. Then I see the cops coming at me. As Allah is my witness, I really can’t explain what happened next; maybe it was stress, or confusion, or frustration. Whatever the reason, I decided it was a reasonable idea at that point to pour a can of petrol over my head and hit the Bic. 

Here’s a handy tip from Doctor Mo: if you ever get a wild urge to start yourself on fire, sit down and relax until it goes away. Because (A) it’s not a particularly useful method for killing infidels, and (B) it. hurts. like. a. ******. So much that I almost enjoyed the distraction those high-pressure water canons and getting my lights punched out by that crazy mumble-mouthed Scottish baggage handler. 

After that, I really didn’t mind getting bludgeoned by those angry bagpipers. The sound was horrible, but at least they got the rest of the flames out. I was almost relieved when the cops were cuffing me face down on the pavement, because by that point I was pretty much reconsidering this whole college martyrdom pledge thIng and I figured the worst was over. 

No such luck. Here’s another handy tip from Doctor Mo: if your skin is half melted and bubbly hot, avoid laying down on any surfaces that aren’t Teflon coated. And please note: the Glasgow sidewalks aren’t. After a half hour with a spatula and ten cans of Pam, the cops finally got 95% or so of me peeled off the sidewalk. I looked down at my legs and realized that I’ll be saving a lot of money on clothes from now on, because I’m sporting a permanent pair of melted-on black polyester trousers. 

And then the kicker: I looked down at my package and noticed “Little Mohammed” was AWOL. As they were loading me into the the police wagon I glanced back over my shoulder and saw what was was left of him charbroiling on the sidewalk. A fat lot of good those 72 virgin are going to be for me now. 

Final box score: I’m out one Mercedes, one Jeep, £2000 in miscellaneous bomb materials, three layers of skin, and one very low-mileage penis. Infidels killed: nil. So the next time you want to bitch to me about how bad your day is going, don’t expect a lot of sympathy. 

Well, gotta go. The interrogators are coming, and afterwards I’ve got an appointment to have my arse skin grafted on to my face. But I will leave you with one more handy tip from Doctor Mo: no matter how many virgins they promise, don’t ever join a fraternity.