For those of you who still are fooling around, this blog is still alive. The quiescent melancholy may make it seem otherwise, rendering it almost worthless, perhaps even depressing to those who love my blog (That would be just me, I guess!), but it is breathing nonetheless. And it will stay alive. But the only way I see to get my mojo back, is to hunt down whoever is running the new-age idiot boxes called Facebook and Twitter and kick their ass into oblivion. FB and Twitter have essentially killed the little skill I had in writing and confined me to one-liners and wordplays. To top it all, I tend to go overboard with wordplay that I make the world pay!

The safe (and usual) way when one can’t think about anything to blog, is to dust off some old tag and take it up with some utterly useless facts. A generally futile attempt at a comeback, it at least gives a signal that the blog is not abandoned. For example, “25 things I have done which made me look like an idiot” or “What am I doing right now”. I always wished to say “I’m giving a flying fart” to the latter one. It is fun to see disgusted looks in the faces of people. I get it.. but that’s indeed what I’ll be doing because if I don’t reply to that tag, that means I don’t give a flying fart about the tag.

Anyway, getting back to tagging, I feel it is the most unimaginative form of blogging. I’ve done it several times. That was because I was not being real. To quote a certain buji (Short for “Buddhi Jeevi” or intellectual(duh!) ) from NITC, I was playing around with equations in the realm of complex numbers.

So I am not going to take up a tag here. I won’t, until I start behaving like an imbecile and go against my words. So let me think about what I can write here ……………………………………………………………………..Nothing! I can think of nothing! It is a well known fact that I’m a literary ignoramus (Some people even say I’m just an ignoramus, literary or not, but that is debatable!). I have forgotten almost all the 3500 tough words in English from Barron’s which I mugged for my GRE. Hmm.. wait. I just figured that I remember “imbecile” and “ignoramus”, as is evident from the last couple of sentences.

So, since I can’t think of anything else, I’ll say something about what is going on in my life. It is boring, and it stinks, because I’m in deep shit right now. I don’t have a job (Heyy! Wait a minute! It is not because I’m an ignoramus. It is because the economy is fucked up!), I don’t have a life.. I don’t know what is happening to me.

What I have are an amazing family, and some amazing friends, that I forget all my woes. Little nuggets which don’t seemingly do anything useful – the incessant rain in Kerala… my mom trying to run when she passes by a nagging neighbor’s house… my dad trying to outsmart my mom during their morning walk… my brother’s silly complaints about his life in Bangalore… his switch from Telugu to Mandarin… my uncle annoying me and my aunt by showing the big sign in “The Hyatt Place” which is black or white depending of the time of the day, every single time we pass by that road… teaching my cousin how to make dal, when I myself don’t know how… gossips about V6… coming up with new nicknames for V6… gossips about me… some people saying they will commit suicide if a deserving guy like me don’t get a job… missing 1729D, Poker, Bamboo Garden, Pan-fried Paneer, Sammy’s Tap and Grill, and inane discussions with V6, the technically challenged girl (TCG) and the Green Dutch.

These little nothings in fact do much more than the somethings. What is life without real people in it, right? People who never fail to bring a smile to your face. Many of my friends too are going through tough phases in their life. Hope is all that is keeping us alive. The hope that good things will happen to good people eventually. That, and being there for each other!

He becomes a myth, a spook story that criminals tell their kids at night: “Rat on your pop, and Keyser Soze will get you.” But no one ever really believes.

I haven’t blogged here for one month now. I guess I’ve become less funny and more serious. (C’mon! That’s not like me!) I’ve been partial to my technical blog and devoting more time for that. Anyway, sparing the apologies, (yeah! Be thankful that I’m back!! Without even giving false punchline-promises like the Austrian-accented “I’ll be back!”) this one is a hilarious memory which was cued by another funny talk when I visited home last week.

For those who don’t know, “the first” is me.

Lets start with some prologues.

Prologue 1: Stupid is as stupid does
My mom says that I’m a bit stupid. I think I’m not, but my mom proves time and again that I am.

Prologue 2: The Legend
“Chaakku Mappilla” is an imaginary character often used in Kerala to scare misbehaving kids. It is similar to the “Bogey Man”. As a way of controlling their children, parents will tell them about “Chaakku Mappilla” who steals misbehaving children. This guy supposedly carries a sack on his back. He catches all misbehaving children, puts them in the sack and sells them. He may be said to target a specific “transgression” or just general misbehavior. The funny thing is that it is believed in by children.

The big laugh
circa 1990
(To make things more sensible, I was oblivious to whatever I have written in blue italics below. Why? Because I was “thinking”)
That day, my brother was wreaking a lot of havoc in home. I was in the verandah, thinking as usual.
I heard faint noises coming from inside. It was my brother screaming and shouting to show his protest in whatever it was.
After some time, the noise grew louder. When I turned around, he was outside, behind me. My mother too had followed him to the verandah.
She was holding a plate with food, perhaps. The little chap was probably refusing to have food. (This was so unusual of him, mind you!)

My mother said, “Eat this like a good boy.”
My brother said, “No. I’m not a good boy.”
My mother said, “Chaakku Mappilla will come and catch children who starve.”
My brother was smart. He replied, “Chaakku Mappilla indeed. There is no such person.”

Then mom became desperate, turned to me and asked, “Tell us…You have seen Chaakku Mappilla, right?”
I probably didn’t see her winking, because I replied in favor of my brother, “No”.

I had never heard the name “Chaakku Mappilla” before. My mom, or my grandma never scared me with that name. (Maybe I never misbehaved ) So I thought it was the name used to address whoever carries a sack. I didn’t even doubt that she was acting.

Then a man appeared at the end of the road. Coincidentally, he was carrying a sack on his shoulders. I knew that man. He was the one who used to play “Thakil” (A type of percussion instrument) in the nearby temple. It was undoubtedly his Thakil inside the sack.

My mom jumped at the opportunity and told my brother, “See. There he is…Chaakku Mappilla. Now eat this or he will take you away.”
My brother was not ready to give in that easily. He boldly said, “He is not Chaakku Mappilla”, although he didn’t sound as bold as before.
He heaved a sigh of relief when the guy passed our house without even looking at us.

My mom’s next step in the drama was to ask me to go and call Chaakku Mappilla, so that he would come and take my brother away.
“Go and tell him that I have something for sale here”, my mom said.
I immediately ran outside towards him.
Panting, I said,

“Mr. Chaakku Mappilla… My mom wants to sell something to you.”

He looked at me for a few seconds with a perplexed face. Time froze for everyone except me. (Because I still hadn’t realised that what I had done was stupid.)
He frowned and continued walking. I looked back at my mom. She beckoned me to come back.
Everyone was laughing. I didn’t understand why. Call it the naivety of a 7 year old who doesn’t know the legend of “Chaakku Mappilla”

I became the laughing stock of the whole family for the next one week….and years to come! Poor me!

Until then, keep laughing at this joke. This is a real “own-goal” cracked one of my friends under the influence of alcohol I think it will be a classic.

DAT: I am Don Corleone.

KP (with an expression of superiority and pride in his face, jumps the gun) : I am Michael Corleone.

DAT: Well, Hello, my dear son.

[Everyone else roll with peals of laughter]
[After some time KP realises what the laughter was for]

KP: Oh Shit. Bloody f***