Under attack by villainous winged vermin, and thwarted at every turn, I have to dig deep into my fighting reserves to face the flying scum that desecrate all that we hold dear. Do I rise to the occasion? Or to the birds have the last cackle? Find out this and more in this thrilling post! Oh, and tell your friends to find out too!
A chance misreading of a letter sets in motion a long rambling account of what happens in my mind when faced with an unexplainable phenomenon. Also a bit of fun about living in the age of STD booths and inland letter cards.
This is a review, albeit a long meandering one in which I share my thoughts on the dosa scene in Hyderabad, of Maharaja Tiffins & Chat, which is at Haridas Market in Abids.
Brilliant food at an amazingly low cost. They do a few things well, and they stick to those few things. Highly recommended are the masala dosa and the pani puri at twenty and ten rupees respectively.
A few weeks ago, I was stocking up on victuals at our local green grocer’s, which goes by the grandiose name of Veerabhadra Vegetables. Veerabhadra Vegetables is by no means a mean place – on the main road from Kothaguda to Miyapur, its location opposite Shilpa Park gives it a strategic advantage that the grocer has turned into an excuse for the most alarming (to outsiders) Nawabi attitude. It is also this that endears him to all his customers, me included. Wasn’t this the guy
Insurance agents truly redraw the boundaries of entrepreneurship. A case in point is the image you see here. Vidya forwarded it to me, and I guess it was sent to her by someone to whom an insurance agent sent it. I have, of course, removed any personally identifiable information before posting it here, lest the agent be subjected to random acts of anger.
I myself am unsure of my reaction to this. On the one hand, it is easy to instantly lament the poor taste and opportunism exhibited by the agent.
Sunday afternoon and Vidya was at the parlour. I was watching something nondescript on TV and trying hard to keep awake. The doorbell rang.
I blearily stumbled to the door and opened it to find a small boy, maybe ten or eleven years old, standing outside. He looked up at me and said, “Current?”
“Uhh…?” was all I could manage in response.
“Is current there?” he asked, a tad impatiently.
Now, this was a puzzling question, especially given that the TV was blaring
Summer has truly arrived in Chennai, and an appropriate revision of hairstyle was called for. Last evening, finding myself with some time in which I had nothing else to do, I went to the barber. After thinking of various alternatives, I did something I have never done before – had my head shaved!
Having never had a shorn head before, here are a few observations I have been making:
The first thing you notice when you have a shaven head is how airy it is. The joy of feeling the breezes playing
When we were in school, and later when we were in college, a genre of humour, heavily dependent on puns, homophones, and lateral thinking, flourished. These were the ‘kadi’ (tamil for bite) jokes. A few of us were accomplished masters, while everyone took a stab at it. At its peak, all popular magazines ran ‘kadi’ jokes, with Ananda Vikatan’s Mr. X jokes leading the way. Then slowly, the popularity of kadi jokes waned, and it went into a decline. Of course, die-hard
Okay, this is getting serious. There is this black dog that lives somewhere on the one-way street that I take everyday to get on to Mount Road (Anna Salai to the purists, or not!) from Usman Road.
I did write a post about him a few days ago, and here I am, doing it again! This guy is getting to be one celebrity of a dog!
Yesterday morning, I was passing by his street when I spotted him, sitting upright on the extreme left of the road, watching the traffic lazily. At this point, a (typical Chennai)
A couple of days ago, I was walking on Arcot Road, and to avoid the water, had to pass perilously near a transformer. I was reminded of Bijoy telling me very matter-of-factly that it was dangerous to walk under a transformer as suddenly one could be spattered with boiling oil – apparently this is a coolant and is one of the things that go wrong very often with a transformer. I couldn’t help but point out to him that it would be even more dangerous if it had Vijayakanth connected to