The early bird and the worm

RECCE

Recce

Moon-day, Phor No-umber Tu Tousan Thateen

ExcluShiv!

Your correspondent has been able to unearth this highly classified secret report of a trip undertaken into the feared jungles of Numb Naadu by two commandos and a driver of the 99 TRAMP Squadron (Tanks Rockets Artillery Mortar Pistols) to reconnoitre the area for future occupation by the C-70 forces.

The only existing copy of this report was found neatly folded and wedged under a protractor in a compass box buried beneath an avalanche of files in a huge steel trunk which was hidden in a disused underground bunker located deep in the bowels of the URTH (Underground Repository of True History).

(Note: For scoorty reasons no names of any personnel are revealed here. All names have been removed.

The standard operating procedure is to simply refer to persons as A, B, C, D, E, etc., till Z is reached, after which Greek alphabets are used.

However, by way of immense caution, even alphabets are not used in this report. There were several bravehearts involved in this top secret operation but they shall all remain unalphabetted. The alphabets have been removed.

The colour, registration number and other details of the recce vehicle, a Jeep 'Chiroti', are also not being revealed here for the same reasons. It was a special design, one of its kind, made just for this mission. The model too has been specially named after a sweet dish delicacy of Karnataka, India. No records of the design exist. The records have been removed.

The route map too has been removed.

The whole recce operation lasted nearly 13 hours from starto to finito, according to the check-in and check-out times recorded by the timekeeper. The record and the timekeeper have been removed.

The report is in first person. The second and third persons did not want any involvement. They have not been removed.)

Recce Report

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY

Part I - Shallow Jungle

The first part of our recce route was through what appeared to be shallow jungle. It looked and gave the impression of being plain and quite peaceful, but turned out to be complex and rather treacherous. The ground was bumpy and full of pitfalls and the authorities had forgotten to build a road. We had to do the battering ram act. Our Chiroti was groaning in protest as we pommelled our way in. Our brave charioteer, who is also a part-time symphony violinist, started groaning on a higher octave, giving a sort of synchronous company to the Chiroti. This groaning thing caught on and soon we were all groaning in unison like a well-oiled orchestra. But this performance brought no joy to us, for our body parts were singing a totally different and painful tune.

At the end of first part of the recce, certain body parts needed immediate relief, certain other crucial parts were in the throes of painful agony owing to being subjected to massive disturbances in stability, and certain strategic parts (which shall remain unnamed on account of their sensitive nature) had become stiff due to being totally immobilized for long durations.

This whole operation appeared to be a carefully planned two-pronged tactic remarkably reminiscent of a panzer attack, thought up by the upper echelons as a punishment for the lower echelons. But, lower echelons being lower echelons, there was nothing else for us to do but to brin and gear it.

Part II - Deep Jungle

As our intrepid three-man squad proceeded along, day turned into night, the jungle became denser and we found ourselves being hemmed in by the inky blackness. We were now in the deep jungles. These jungles are said to be inhabited by Zamboos (a fearsome species of jungle beings said to have thorns boiled in Venus’-fly-trap juice for breakfast and whose children are rumoured to keep dragons as pets).

There was no moon in the sky; it appeared to be a new moon night (our charioteer told us that the old moon had been stolen, most likely by Zamboos). We did not see any Zamboos. We saw only bamboos. Our charioteer explained that Zamboos have never ever been seen by anyone. The journey was made in total silence (except for the sounds of heavy breathing and the bamboos creaking).

But the silence was soon broken. As we entered the deep jungle home stretch, we could hear blood-curdling growls, ear-splitting shrieks and terrible trumpeting roars. Our charioteer explained that the growls were the sounds of the elder Zamboos enjoying a joke, the shrieks were those of the Zamboo children playfully chasing their pet dragons and the trumpeting roars were those of the pet dragons being playfully chased by the Zamboo children. As a background score to all this, the wind was howling and the bamboos were creaking and groaning. This did not help our recce mission one bit for it made our legs shiver and our eyes close in fear.

Part III - Jeep Dungle

Our brave and courageous charioteer did not for one moment stop but kept going, going, going, … We had now left the deep jungles behind us and were in unknown, unmanned territory - the Jeep Dungle. Our charioteer explained in a trembling voice that the Jeep Dungle was the innermost part of the deep jungle where only jeeps could go, a humongous dung-pit kind of netherworld. Even Zamboos stayed away from it (could be because they had no jeeps). The whole place was dark as pitch and we could not see anything. I put out my left hand in front of me but couldn’t see it. For a moment I panicked, but then my superior intelligence kicked in. I reached out with my right hand to locate it and brought it back in.

The old moon had stopped shining its light as it was already lost or misplaced or stolen. The new moon couldn't even begin to penetrate the inky blackness, probably because it was still new and only just starting to warm up. We could hear the howl of unnamed things and we could feel unmanned, unidentified flying objects zipping past us from unknown directions. Suddenly, when we were right in the blackest part of this black hole, our Chiroti came to a halt by itself and switched itself off. Everything became quiet and there was total silence. Then we heard a “clang” somewhere close by, startling us. Our charioteer explained that it was only the sound of a pin dropped by a Zamboo. After that, nothing. We could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing. We were dumbstruck by the silence and the darkness.

There we were, suspended in this inky black, eternal “tar-nation”. I tried to scream out but my voice did not come out from my throat. I waved my black beret for help but no help came. I tapped out the first few beats of “brave soldiers, have no fear” on the Chiroti’s bonnet, but no sound came. I was sweating heavily but what brought a sudden chill was when I realised that the sweat drops were trickling up my back! 

We had no option but to stay put and stay quiet. So we stayed put and stayed quiet.

After about an hour of this animated suspension, everything suddenly came to life around us. Unnamed things started howling again and unmanned, unidentified flying objects started zipping past us once more. Above all this noise, we heard a Zamboo laugh. Life was back to normal, it seemed.

As if woken up from sleep, our Chiroti started by itself and gave a couple of encouraging “vrooms” to pep our spirits up. As if on cue, we heard high-pitched screams from somewhere high up in the nearby trees. Our charioteer explained in a softly hysterical voice that these were some other spirits, pepping up.

Though I was not at all thinking of my own safety and not, not, not in the least worried, in the interests of the safety of our brave charioteer as well as my colleague, it was unanimously decided to make a strategic but dignified exit.

Our legs were shivering and our teeth were chattering, possibly due to the sudden chill in the atmosphere. But, unmindful of these minor discomforts, our charioteer closed his eyes, slotted the Chiroti into reverse gear and backed out. Providentially, we encountered no obstacles on the way back. As we retreated smartly, firstly the ghouls were left behind and secondly the  howls faded away. Thirdly the darkness was lifting and we could see light filtering in from beyond the bamboo curtain. The new moon had given way to a new dawn.

By this time our brave charioteer had got the hang of driving the Chiroti in reverse and had even begun to enjoy it. We had to gently coax him to stop whistling and turn the Chiroti to face the right way front. Very reluctantly he turned the vehicle around and piloted it back to civilisation.

On account of the despicable and uncharitable behaviour exhibited by the Zamboos our recce mission had to be called off. Our protest and extreme reluctance to call off the mission was duly noted in the Register of Due Notings.

The exercise was deemed to have ended in an honourable draw.

***

Author’s note: The names ‘Numb Naadu’, ‘99 TRAMP Squadron’, ‘URTH’, ‘Chiroti’, ‘Zamboo’, ‘Dungle’ and ‘tar-nation’ are all plucked out of the author’s imagination where they were coined. Any resemblance to anyone or anything living, dead or yet to be born and to any place on this Solar System including this Earth is quite coincidental.

If the reader has enjoyed reading this tale, he or she is requested to contact this author and win a free handshake.

   -         © Shiva Kumar, author

Telegram R.I.P.

TELEGRAM R.I.P.

DEEPLY REGRET INFORM TELEGRAM DEAD STOP ONE HUNDRED SIXTY THREE YEARS STOP LAST FEW YEARS WASTING AWAY SLOWLY DETERIORATING FINANCIAL HEALTH STOP GREAT SERVICE DURING WORLD WARS INDIA INDEPENDENCE MOVEMENT INDIA CHINA PAK WARS STOP TELEGRAM WORKED BY SMALL BRASS KNOB STRIKING BRASS PLATE WITH ELECTRIC CONNECTION MAKING SEQUENCE OF DOT DASH SOUNDING DIT DAH FOR ALPHABETS STOP STARTED BY ONE GENT WHO NAMED HIMSELF AFTER CODE CALLED MORSE STOP PROBABLY NOT INTERESTED READ WRITE SO CAME UP THIS DOTTED DASHED METHOD STOP MAKE SOUND DIT DIT DIT DAH DAH DAH IT MEAN SOMETHING TO SOMEONE STOP THEY MAKE MESSAGE OUT OF IT STOP VERY CONFUSING FOR OTHERS STOP THEY MAKE TOTALLY DIFFERENT MESSAGE STOP BUT VERY POPULAR WITH CLASSES AND MASSES TO MAKE ASSES OUT OF MONKEYS STOP

PARA 

NEWS REPORTERS REPORTED BY TELEGRAPH STOP DEPENDING UPON RECEIVING PERSON’S KNOWLEDGE OF DOT DASH THEY MAKE GOOD STORIES OR NOT GOOD STORIES STOP SOMETIMES PERSON RECEIVING MESSAGE HAVING NO KNOWLEDGE SO THAT TIME THEY MAKE STOP PRESS STOP ALL DUE TO THIS MORSE CODE CHAPPIE STOP

PARA 

ALL KINDS PEOPLE LIKED SEND TELEGRAM STOP RENOWNED HUMOURIST PG WODEHOUSE CHARACTERS IN HIS STORIES SENT TELEGRAMS AT DROP OF HAT STACCATO MESSAGES GOOD LAUGHS INTERESTING COMIC WAY TO TELL STORY STOP ACTOR PETER SELLERS SENT TELEGRAM FROM HIS STUDY TO HIS WIFE IN KITCHEN TO SEND COFFEE STOP WIFE MUST HAVE DROPPED IN SURPRISE STOP

PARA

OLD INDIANS REMEMBER TELEGRAM FONDLY STOP EVERY FAMILY HAD OWN CODE CONVEYING SPECIAL MEANING TO FAMILY MEMBERS STOP GIBBERISH TO NON-MEMBERS STOP I REMEMBER PASSING SCHOOL EXAM AND GETTING TELEGRAM FROM FATHER'S FRIEND CONGRATULATING ME ON SUCCESS IN ELECTIONS STOP PROUDLY PRESERVED THIS MANY YEARS STOP TELEGRAMS USED FOR ANNOUNCING BIRTHS DEATHS EXAM ELECTION RESULTS JOURNEY PLANS STOP SOMETIMES TELEGRAM REACH AFTER PERSON REACH STOP NO ONE TO MEET AT STATION PASSENGER STUMPED AS NOT KNOWING LOCAL LANGUAGE OR WAY FROM STATION STOP SOMETIMES TELEGRAM KILL LIVE PERSON STOP CAUSE ANGUISH CONSTERNATION MAYBE DISAPPOINTMENT WHEN RELATIVES RUSH TO SEE PERSON LIVE AND REALISE TELEGRAM FOOLED THEM STOP TELEGRAM THUS HELP UNMASK FAKE PEOPLE STOP

PARA

STORY GOES IN 1897 AUTHOR OSCAR WILDE SENT TELEGRAM TO PUBLISHER ONE QUESTION MARK TO WHICH REPLY TELEGRAM FROM PUBLISHER ONE EXCLAMATION MARK MEANING AUTHOR QUERIED PUBLISHER ABOUT NEW BOOK LAUNCH RESPONSE AND PUBLISHER REPLIED GOOD RESPONSE STOP MUST BE SHORTEST TELEGRAMS STOP INNOVATIVE USE STOP

PARA

NOW UNFORTUNATE WE USE SMS MMS ALL SORTS OF SSS TO SEND INSTANT MESSAGES STOP DRY ELECTRONIC STUFF EMOTIONS NOT CONVEYED NO MUCH FUN STOP SORRY TO SEE TELEGRAM GO STOP

PARA

NAMASKARA GOODBYE ALVIDA SHABBA KHAIR R.I.P. TELEGRAM STOP

PARA

END OF MESSAGE

BYE-LAWS AND IN-LAWS

Bye-laws and in-laws

The meeting was called in a hurry. The President could sense that something was brewing when he entered the meeting hall and smelt the coffee. The committee members were happily lounging around enjoying their kaapi-in-tumbler-dabara, exchanging anecdotes and, at the same time, managing to look sombre.

"Daay" he said, catching the eye of the watchman-cum-coffee-maker, "get me a degree coffee quickly."

The humble underling fell to his task with alacrity.

With the brew inside him, the President felt better, bitter and stronger. He rolled up his sleeves and prepared to 'go into battle', as he liked to term it. He was ready to bat for himself and batter anybody who dared cross his path.

He walked up to the lectern and, in a stentorian voice, called the meeting to order.

"Order, order! This sudden, unexpected and most extraordinary meeting of the Managing Committee is hereby called to order and I am still the President, so there!"

"Hear, hear!" piped in some of the meeker members, thumping their tables.

The President banged a paperweight hard seven times on the lectern-top to quieten the meek.

"Here, here, you, pipe down and don't make unnecessary noises. Pay attention.

Before we proceed further, I would like to serve you all some kai murukkus which are hand twisted rice crunchies or chaklis. The main ingredient is rice, so you may like to call it 'rice twist'!"

"Nice twist" one member was heard commenting, which brought a frown to the President's face.

"Okay, okay, enough of twists. I would now like to make some ground rules for us to follow in this meeting", started the President, ticking off the ground rules on the fingers of his left hand.

"One. Please do not use sensitive words like 'bye', 'son', 'law' and 'resign'. Help make our deliberations smooth. I agree we are in a spot of bother but this meeting will fix all that.

By the way, I should caution you to be wary of using certain tricky words which can confuse, words like bye-laws, in-laws, etc. Don't mix them up. Please remember, bye-laws are those useless and unwanted rules to which we say farewell and in-laws are those rules which we abide by.

Two. There will be no fighting, no arguing, no conflict. I have no interest in any conflict here. All of us will agree on everything I say or else...

Three. I wanted to be President since I was a little boy and, now that I am one, I want to remain one. So please kindly endorse this, or else..."

One hand shot up from one of the back rows. "But there is a dent on your name, Mr. President", said a member in a small, barely audible voice.

The President glared at him for about a minute while everyone watched silently. After this one-minute silence, he spoke.

"Okay, I admit, maybe there is a tiny dent on my fair name. I shall remove this dent. From this moment onwards, I shall be known as Prez. No dent. I take it that everyone agrees wholeheartedly. It shall be duly noted so in the minutes."

An elderly member, who had just finished the last bit of his hand-twisted kai murukku, spoke up in a feeble voice.

"But I say, this is hand twisting, er, I mean, arm twisting", he stood up and managed to mumble. The Prez glared at him with both eyes till he subsided into his seat once again.

The Prez's mobile began to ring and he excused himself politely. The nearest member rushed to the dais and tried to help him to step down so he could take the call away from the microphone, but the Prez brushed him off saying that there was no need to step down, it was enough to step aside.

The call was very short, with the Prez uttering just three words, "don't", "you" and "dare". Whoever it was at the other end obviously did not dare to continue the call. The Prez came back to the lectern.

"If that is all, I would like to end this meeting by thanking all of you for your kind words of wisdom, support and courage. Your sage advice will guide me in these times of difficulty. Thank you, good night and good bliss. Oh, and there is a packet of kai murukkus for each of you. I hope you will think of me whenever you bite into one."

The meeting ended with a chorus of approval for the kai murukkus.

Cash And Carry

Cash and Carry

Soonday, 28 Ape-real

The Clear And Sober Heads (CASH), a self-help group, working hand-in-glove with their brothers-in-arms and another help-self group, the Citizens Against Rash Riding Youth (CARRY), have been quietly busy behind the scenes. They have undertaken a mission to bring clarity into the drive against drunken driving, and have been looking at ways and means to ambush, block, intercept and intelligently interact with drivers and riders who are inebriated, intoxicated, plastered or smashed and have lost, mislaid, misplaced or damaged their senses and are incognizant, oblivious, unmindful or blissfully unaware of their surroundings.

In a swift and stealthy operation code-named Cash and Carry, these enlightened citizens managed to procure by way of a New Year grant from a UFO (Unidentified Foreign Organisation), who in turn got them as a year-end gift from a manufacturer of spirited rectifiers and hand-held mental detectors (who had actually manufactured these by mistake because of a formula error) a truck-load of alco-meters. These meters, branded "Whiffy-in-a-Jiffy", need just a sniff or a whiff to indicate the amount, count, measure or quantity of the alcohol, hooch, inebriant or spirit in the breadth, depth, length and perimeter of a suspect to  give a firm, neutral, impartial and unbiased opinion on whether this amount, count, measure or quantity has the potential to alter the balance, equilibrium, stability and steadiness of the driver/rider, the vehicle or any vehicle on the road in the area, neighbourhood, surroundings or vicinity.

A regular user (who has been given "frequent flier" status and a generous credit facility for paying penalties) was recently invited as a "highly important consumer" (“hic”) to an emergency meeting organised by Cash And Carry to educate their teetotaler members on how these 'sniffy-whiffy-jiffy-whatever' meters work on the drunk, inebriated, intoxicated or tipsy. Leaning on a pole specially fixed for him in the meeting room, he explained the step-by-step working of the meter in very easy, lucid, plain and simple terms (which even a calm, clear, level or sober person could catch, grasp, realise or understand), thus:

Step 1: The suspect is asked to blow in the general direction of the meter (e.g., "blow North-North-East").

Step 2: The meter staggers for a moment. Then it lets out a shrill cry, rather like that of a mongrel in distress.

Step 3: There is a lull of about 10 seconds before the moment of truth. Then a bell tolls and the meter's screen indicates: "here cometh thine report cardeth" (English option) or “yahan aavath aapka rapat carduth” (Hindi option).

(A special app can be downloaded into the meter to play the suspect's favourite film song during the lull. The most popular download has been "mujhko yaaron maaf karna, main nashe mein hoon").

Step 4: The screen then displays in large red characters one of the following symbols:

            ;>)    (smiley with one eye closed)" for "happily high"

            %>)   (cross-eyed smile) to indicate "ssimply ssozzled", 

        

            :-X    (skull and crossbones) for "dangerously smashed",

            /////  (5 slashes) for "smashingly dangerous"

(If, however, the suspect happens to be calm, clear, level or sober, the meter skips steps 2 and 3 and instead displays a message in English, Hindi and Swahili, saying “Congratulations, you have won a prize of US $ 5,000,000. To claim this prize, please e-mail your height, weight and waist size to put-oil@420.out". This makes the suspect so happy that he goes out and gets pickled, soused, sozzled or stewed and can then begin the testing exercise all over again!)

Step 5: The meter is programmed to automatically calculate the penalty (using a secret formula known only to certain film story writers and footballers) and print out challans in triplicate.

{NOTE: It is rumoured that engineers are working on a new version of the meter which will not only automatically calculate the penalty but will also collect it from the suspect by issuing threats of dire consequences in a loud voice. But this is only a rumour and is as yet unconfirmed.}

But the truck-load of meters proved to be too many and the Cash and Carry brothers are now holding a huge stock far in excess of their calculated numbers. After a clear-headed round of discussions, they have come up with the brilliant idea of putting up self-help kiosks at all street corners, where these meters would be strategically placed, under the lamp posts. Suspects will be able to go to the nearest lamp post, determine how "tight" they are and collect their challans. There will also be a dumb-box tied at waist level to each lamp post where they can drop their penalties. The brothers are working on a couple of easy installment schemes to add a little zing to the drive and increase the collection.

This proposal seems to have received enthusiastic response judging from the initial reactions and, if implemented, may well become quite popular. In fact, there have already been requests from some remote and unrepresented catchment areas, where the residents are looking for evening recreation, to install these kiosks on a "pay,use-pay,use" ("pu-pu") basis. There have also been franchise enquiries and sponsorship proposals from a mineral water manufacturer, a dumb-box marketing agency and a lamp post decorator. A well known gaming software company is said to be working on a computer game based on this operation.

Watch this space with keen eyes!

Filmi Funda

Filmi Funda

I thought that making a film was so easy. But then I discovered it is not so, not by a long way.

Just the other day, I was sitting with a dear friend (who shall remain unnamed as he wishes to be anonymous till his film is declared a super hit) and he was narrating his travails. You see, he had been a good story-teller in his youth especially when he had to face his parents over the matter of his school reports. This had convinced him many years later to try his hand at film-making.

He had made a film based on a very interesting story of three villainous gangsters who are forced to hide in the lower basement of a skyscraper for days on end. This lower basement is used as a storage area for traffic sign boards. The police who are on their trail try to flush them out by first cutting off the electricity, then the water and finally the phone lines. The villains who are from one of our well known, modern cities are unfazed as they are used to living without electricity, water or any utility. But the hiding place proves to be too claustrophobic for the chief villain because wherever he turns he sees signs telling him "No Parking" or "No Entry" or "One Way". He begins to wish that he had gone up to the roof instead of coming down to the basement. In fact the film's title "WISH WE WERE ON THE ROOF" is based on this very thought!

But I am digressing. Let me get back to my dear friend and film making.

So, according to my dear friend, there are certain rules to be strictly followed while making a film, if you want it to hit the box office dead centre. His favourite five are:

1. Take great care to ensure that all characters in the story are extra-terrestrials and have absolutely no resemblance or relationship to any person living, dead or imagined.
2. Don’t give names to any character in the story. Some one somewhere may take offense. Use 16-digit alpha-numeric codes instead.
3. Do not have any dialogues in the film. Some one somewhere may take offense to what some character in the film may be saying to some other character. Let the characters communicate with each other in sign language. Make sure that this sign language is not known to anyone so no one will find it offensive. Copyright the sign language, just to be on the safer side.
4. Make sure there is no music or song in the film. Some one somewhere may take offense to the music or the lyrics of the song or the singer/s or the actors or the locale. Or some one somewhere may just take offense without giving any reasons. After all, this is a free country and no one needs to give any reasons to take offense.
5. Do not shoot your film in any identifiable location. It may hurt the sentiments of the people of that place. Better still, make sure the location is not visible and the film is totally dark. Some one somewhere may see something objectionable. Why should we hurt anyone’s feelings?

I think there is something in what my dear friend says.

Don’t you agree that a dark and silent movie will be a great hit?