Impulsive Expressions

Seriously when we all shout(this includes me also guys.. notice I used 'we') that people making advertisements are stupid we must realise that their target audience must be expected to be as much stupid if not more. Why do these people under-estimate us so much? A few case-studies...I am not using any names. You know just in case...

I must admit to be a teacher is one of the most difficult jobs in this age especially in the primary level when apart from imparting education you also need to inculcate moral values.

ORIGIN: KOTA

LOOK OUT!
My mother and me had been to this temple today. As it was Monday there was this huge rush in the temple and there were about a hundred to two hundred people in the room where the Ling was there. The floor was slippery because of a large number of mashed bananas which were supposed to be for the God. Finally both of us managed to get near the God and my mom stood near the corner while I stood beside.

Just then the priest who was standing still till then turned around ....

"Look out, " I shouted.

But the priest had already smashed the coconut on the wall inches away from my mom's face. OMG. Beware guys.

BURNING SAREES & BOUNDLESS FAITH
The following image showcases seemingly innocuous objects called diyas/deeps but can be fatal at times.






These are called diyas or deeps.








A lady's saree's (for all the non-Indian readers its a clothing Indian women wear) end caught fire and slowly burnt its way up but the devoted lady was busy chanting prayers with eyes closed. Anyone would feel that the saree was on fire but this woman was so much into her prayers that she did not seem to notice at first. Finally she did notice when the priest threw a bucket of water at her. The woman obviously was too taken aback by the fire burning out that she fainted.

Amazingly till she was praying she seemed fine. As they say, ignorance is bliss.

FORGIVE & FORGET
People give their offerings to God on this huge round bronze plate. It is usually filled with lots and lots of coins and a few random notes usually those that are torn or crumpled if you notice closely. I was just looking around while my mother finished her prayers and my eyes fell on this lady. Her fingers (and consequently she) were upto no good. She was faking as if she was putting a coin on the plate but actually she was taking away coins. She did this for about two to three times. Quite a thief !

But then all of a sudden she took out those collected coins and kept them back on the plate and looked around for people noticing her great offering because people usually give one or two rupees. God for this lady will forgive and forget.

It was swelteringly hot and five more people stood in front of us in the line at the Vigyan Nagar Post Office. The line was static. Why? The man at the counter said whatever may be the case they won't take letters or parcel during his lunch hours even if he just sat and chat with his colleagues.

Just then three ladies entered the scene.

"Oh My God! What a long line ! ," said Lady A.
"Don't Worry," said Lady B. "There must be a separate line for women. Since there is none now , we will make one."

Saying this she had started a line for women. There was a protest from a person ( obviously bearing a different set of chromosomes) but that was snubbed down easily by the threesome.Other ladies also followed suit as in a game of hearts. My friend Rudra and me were left flabbergasted.

"It is such a waste of time for students when they have to come by themselves to post their forms. I wish the Institute would do something for these students. It would save a lot of time and..." Lady C did not seem to think it proper to keep her conversation private or short.

Suddenly an idea clicked. I went up to Lady B ( the most vulnerable looking) and said ,"Aunty , Can you post the form for me when you are posting yours. A lot of time would be saved. Please Aunty," in my most flattering voice.

"Son, it would be injustice on others standing here if I did this for you. It would be wrong and you are..."

I cut her short. "Thanks a lot, Aunty, anyways" with a lot of stress on the word Aunty.Hypocrites. She had a chance to save my time but no... justice, truth and what not to cover up.

Five minutes later when the counter opened there was some confusion there. Lady B came out of line, in her hand she held half a twenty-rupee note. I say half cause it had so dexterously torn into two halves(one of which she held) that it seemed that it was a note that was folded in half.

See you can't tell whether its folded in half or cut into two halves till you feel which our lady here was too preoccupied to
notice.







"That potato-vendor. I will kill him today. Look at the rascal...., " said Lady B although she was using language that forbade the use of the title.

Serves her right for being so obsessed with justice.

"Thank God, it was not a hundred rupee note," said Lady A as the trio left the post-office.

Now just look at the economics involved. The potato vendor if he got away with the other half he gets away with a total of twenty plus twenty forty rupees. So a profit of twenty rupees if that note was his and a profit of forty rupees if he had found it and also the idea of not discarding it.

Summers in Orissa are marked by erratic cuts in electricity; often disrupting normal life. It sure did disrupt mine this morning when I had to miss out on the repeat telecast of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. which I had missed out on yesterday. That's like missing the missed.

I was feeling extremely bored and then.......

"How could you do this without asking me?"

That voice seemed to belong to Mr. Misra, a usually cool campaigner, who was now attempting to exercise his vocal chords at maximum amplitude.

Normally I would not have done this but since I was also getting bored to the max I decided to check it out.

The scene in front of Mr. Misra's house was as follows:

Mr. Misra was balking at two government workers who I presumed belonged to the electricity department because of the loop of thick wire that one of them hung by his arm and pointing again and again to a branch of a tree and a big jack-fruit adorning it. Mr. Misra was quoting from the Gita and the Constitution simultaneously about justice, truth and possession. Any gaps in his little speech were appropriately punctuated by counter-arguments from both the workers. And spectators to this debate were about ten people including Mr. Bhandari ,another aged neighbour, a beggar on a wheelchair and myself. Judging by the noise (and publicity) that was being created more on-lookers were on the cards also.

Mr. Mishra: How can you cut a branch of a tree that grows on my garden without asking me?

Worker 1: You were not there. So we cut it. Anyways you should thank us for not cutting the entire tree down.

Worker 2: Your tree was hindering this wire. Plus the little branch had begun twining about these wires and we were getting regular complaints of short circuiting.

Worker 1: We even cut down other things if people come in between our job and us.

Mr. Misra: Like what? You will cut us down someday!

Worker 2: No just the mains wire that gives you current. That should suffice.

Worker 1: Sir, we can't bicker with you the whole day now? We have many wirings to examine and you can see it's not getting any cooler.

Worker 2: Yeah, Shambhu carry this jack-fruit along. It belongs to us now that we have cut it. And also the branch. We will make some fundings out of that branch.

Mr. Misra: No one takes anything away from here. That tree is mine and whatever it bears is mine. You scoundrels had no right to touch it. Now you want to take the fruit away?

Worker 1: Okay then you pay us and keep the branch. But the jack-fruit is definitely ours. You can take a little piece if you want.

Mr. Misra had had enough of this. He did not say anything this time and went into the house. And he came back smiling. He said,"Let's go inside and settle this out over a cup of tea."

Wow! Now that was a paradigm shift. What had caused him to undergo this benevolent transformation? Some Gandhigiri trick or what?

The workers went inside after looking slightly disconcerted though. I guess the show was over. It would be impolite for anyone of us to go in just to witness the deal.

Just then Mr. Misra came out and told Mr. Bhandari, "I have called my friend. He is a Senior Officer in Electricity Department. I will strip these scoundrels of their jobs for sure today."

Having revealed this bit of information he ran inwards.Then Mr. Bhandari and I both started to leave.

"Isn't that the branch and fruit that these people were quarreling about?" , said Mr. Bhandari.

Near the end of the lane, the lame beggar wheeled on as fast as he could with the branch that held the jack-fruit attached to the support of his chair. And then he turned into another lane and out of our sight. I guess it's his now.