Gin

The time has arrived to create some gin puns. Actually, I would have preferred to call them gin jokes, that way I could have typed it as jin gokes and then apologized for the mix up. It would have enabled me to write a bit on spoonerism. But I don't plan to write anything funny. I will quite pleasantly surprised if anyone find the below lines funny. Anyway, let us get on with the...

Gin Puns

1. The feminine form of gin is referred to as ging(h)er.
2. Drink gin and sing "jingle bells, jingle bells...".
3. How do refer to gin that has been on the shelf for a few years? Aging.
4. What do you call a flying gin? Pidgin.
5. A man in Brussels, drank a barrel of gin one night. Later, as he walked towards his home, he tripped and fell into a bottle. Now he is a jinn in the bottle.
6. Where do gin drinkers go to exercise? Ginasium.
7. From a gin to no gin.
8. What do you call a tall bottle of gin? Gigintic.
9. He was so drunk on gin that he walked into his house gingerly.
10. The process of photographing a gin is called imaging.
11. Rivers of gin flowed in his imagination.
12. When 'a' is added to gin the gin gains.
13. When two a's are added to gin - oops I am writing this again.
14. The problem with having a meeting in the pub is that no one knows the aginda of the meeting.
15. It is a sin to treat a gin drinker disparagingly.
16. Gin drinkers are serious people, they don't grin, they only gin.
17. Gin and sex don't go together. That's probably why gins announce their arrival by saying "V r gins".
18. Every gin is unique, they are very original.
19. Gin takes time to move around when it is not inside an engine.
20. The drunken man confessed "forgive me father for I have ginned".

My God! I can't gin no more!

Everyday journey challenges

The Flaming Lips are not an easy listen. The music can be cacophonous and the singer loves to sing or can only sing off key. But I find the songs catchy. How can one not love songs with words like "this here giraffe, laughed". There's also a terrifying version of the song "What a wonderful world!". Ardent lovers of the original by Louis Armstrong would definitely hate The Flaming Lips for having sung the song thus. The out of tune singing and feedback drenched music makes it an ideal end-of-the-world song. The past week, I decided to play the entire Flaming Lips discography during my ride to and from work.

The winding roads were not tough to maneuver but the cows residing on the roads made the drive challenging. I had driven over mud roads earlier but not over such maad roads. The cows did not care about the traffic. They lay on the left and right side and the centre of the road chewing their cud. As the vehicles approached them, they looked at the vehicles with disinterest and continued chewing. Many times, I tried to decipher their thoughts but they maintained a blank expression. I am sure the Zen monks can learn a trick or two from them. Usually the cows left just enough space for a car to squeeze through them. But they ensured the vehicle had to swerve to the left or right once they get through the gaps. The bigger vehicles did not have this choice. They stopped and honked but the cows were not affected. The driver honked some more. They slowly pushed up their hind legs and remained in the resulting right angle triangle pose for a few minutes. The driver, by now, was desperate and honked with all his energy. The cows pushed up their front legs and stood looking like a chewing rectangle. By now, the driver was hurling abuses about the cow's parents. The cows' love for their parents usually resulted in their moving away from the path of the vehicle. 

At many points during this journey, the dogs take objection to my car and chase it while barking. I have been tempted, sometimes, to stop the car and ask them "why?" but was not sure if I would understand their response and hence usually drive away annoyed. Once I saw a lone boy walking along the side of the door swinging his badge above his head. He soon started skipping along the road twirling his badge above his head. I couldn't help but wonder at his joy this early in morning as he walked alone to his school. The road winded towards the red coloured buildings of the law college beyond which lay the forest. By forest, I don't mean the thick wooded evergreen tropical forest kind of forest but the sparsely populated scrub jungle. I have heard that the forest is home for a few animals.  Not the tiger and lion kind of animals but the deer and mongoose kind of animals. Once i had seen seen a mongoose standing on its hind legs in the centre of the road and look into the horizon at the approaching vehicle; the car I was driving. As the car got closer it probably realized that it was a car, which could squash it and ran away. One morning when the music was not blaring out of the stereo and the window panes were down I heard the songs of many birds emanating from the trees. I decided to drive with no music since then but have forgotten about it since. I am sure I will not remember it the next time I drive through that stretch of the road.

The road curves to the right and the forest lands on either side give way to the bund of a big lake on the left and a smaller lake on the right. I remember hearing that the road did not exist eighty years back and the area was a large lake. As in other places, humanity decided to disturb the lake by constructing a road through it. I marveled at the foresight of the set of people eighty years ago who decided to construct this road for my convenience. I did not thank them for I believed it was their destiny to do so. A garbage dump existed on the right; between the bund and road. On most days, foul smell did not emanate from the dump but recently bulldozers started clearing the garbage and the stink from the decomposing waste that lay underneath the fresh waste became unbearable. Actually, nearly unbearable for I did not raise the windows as I passed it; I held my breath for a few seconds instead. The clearing was not done properly and the road by the dump was littered with garbage. I understand the reason for humans not treating garbage with respect but not the way the place with the garbage is treated. I don't think we truly respect anyone or anything.

The road became messy within a few hundred metres. A few months back the potholes lay beyond a speed breaker but now there were a few prior to it too. I changed to the second gear and swerved the steering this way and that to avoid the potholes. It was a futile effort but I indulged in it every time I passed the stretch. No part of the road existed without potholes and at all times at least one of the wheel found itself within a pothole. Many college and school buses plied on this stretch of the road and a few of the driver were impatient oafs. They got their large buses right behind the car and honked vigourously. Sometimes the oafs yanked their large vehicles to the right and overtook me. Usually I ignored them and focused my attention on the potholes. But a few day existed where this behaviour annoyed me enough to mouth words that I should not.

Soon I reached a location that presented the most challenging situation in my life. I am not sure if I will ever resolve this challenge. I wish I had a Parthasarathi who would help me differentiate the right from the wrong of this situation.

Beyond the bad stretch of the road, I had to take a right from a four road junction to reach my destination . Near the middle of the junction stands a tall lamp post. It is not at exactly at the centre of the road but is slightly to the right of the road. The police have placed a barricade from the post to the centre of the road. The reason for the existence of this barricade is not clear. In India, we are supposed to keep to the left of the road. But at the intersection none of the vehicles taking the right keep to the left. Instead they go as the water would flow. I hate doing that. I cross the lamp post and take the right turn keeping the post on my right, that is, on the left side of the road. This confuses everyone at the junction. The person coming from the opposite side thinks that I am going straight as I did not turn prior to the lamp post and so does not slow down. The person coming from the road on the right side taking a right does not expect me to come onto his path and so does not slow down. The person behind me does not expect me to take a right as I have crossed the post without taking a right and so does not slow down. The person coming from my left going straight and the person coming from the opposite side taking left down do not slow down anyway as they want to get ahead of me. All these persons, ignore the fact that the right indicator on my car is blinking. Usually I let everyone pass and then take the right. But I wonder if I should do what others are doing and not do what I think is right. How can I be sure I am right? Parathasaratheeee! Where are you when I need you?

Alibaugh

A few months earlier, I decided to like a few BBC pages on Facebook not with the intent of keeping abreast with the happenings across this bloody planet of ours. I found their humour interesting, especially the bits and pieces of the Graham Norton Show. I have not seen an entire episode of this show yet and don’t believe I will ever do so either. But I love watching the three to five minutes snippets available on social media.

Every day, the BBC pages threw some wonderfully humorous entries at me. Some of them actually made me laugh aloud. Soon a name started standing out from among these entries. At first I ignored it but soon my curiosity got better of me and I typed the name Fleabag in the Google search bar. Google came back with the image of an actress whom I had seen in one of the Graham Norton snippets. I understood that Fleabag is the name of an acclaimed series on BBC. I was also thrilled to see that the series was available in Amazon Prime. The various sites also cautioned me that contents of the series were of sexual nature and fathers of teen aged children should preferably watch these episodes behind closed doors else they would not have an opportunity to talk to their growing children about bees and birds.

I watched two episodes of the series one evening and was unable to digest the amount of bees and birds the episodes served. I decided to give the series a break for a few days and come back afresh. Two days later, I sat in front of the television and completed the two seasons of Fleabag within two days. I would not say I was blown away by it (Hmmmm!) but I found it interesting. Fleabag conversing with audience verbally and visually is the star attraction of the series. Phoebe Weller is so good at it that at times I felt I was actually observing a friend’s life. Would it not be great to have a friend like Fleabag! I mean not an intimate friend but more like a neighbour you know for a few months. So you know her well enough to know the happenings in her life and yet have not known her long enough to be attached to these happenings.

Maybe we should make something called Alibaugh about a desi Fleabag who lives in Alibaugh. Of course, since she is a desi in her thirties she would be married. Her marriage would be six or eight years old, which is just enough time for the husband and wife to be tired of each other and yet not long enough for them to ignore each other. Being a desi couple from Alibaugh they would not dare to break the conventions of the society and walk away from each other. The tussles of a Fleabag like character in such a situation would be interesting to observe. 

Random crap

Captain Dogod announced to his family "Life has just got crappy. Its got so crappy that it can't get any crappier. Wait! No! That's not true! Life has been crappier earlier and I hope it does not get that crappy for I don't think I have the stamina to go through that crap again. As crappier as today is, I hope it does not get any crappier."

Mrs. Dogod looked up from her book and shout "Will you cut that crap Will!"

Wasted Investigation

Its been a year since Inspector Vasu died. Like his many cases, mystery shrouds his death. He was found dead at the bottom of the stairs in his house. A case of unnatural death was quickly converted into a case of accidental death. I am not sure but Inspector Vasu probably sang Metallica's "Frantic". He must have been singing "My lifestyle determines my death style" as he walked down the stairs. His death seemed like a page out of one of his case diaries. 

Inspector Vasu was both an inspirational and a comic figure. But he is not real. He is a character from a TV series based on a real life inspector. The inspector whose name has never been published is believed to be held in high respect by the police and criminals. But many mock him as many of his cases were deemed unsolved. After his death, the details of his unsolved cases reached a newspaper from an unspecified destination. The people at the newspaper could not believe their luck and started publishing the cases. Thus, Inspector Vasu, rose from ashes after 30 long years.

I don't read newspapers but I started reading the Sunday edition of the newspaper to know more about the inspector's cases. I was interested in a specific case. I had written about it five years ago. The inspector was investigating the murder of Gundu Mama. You can find the details of the case here - Inspector Vasu investigates Case VR28391. Last week, the Sunday edition carried details of the case. This sounded slightly different from Inspector Vasu's version as this comes from the horse's mouth. I start the narration from where I had left.

... I was perplexed by the development. Situation seemed to point to the watchman as the killer of the fat man. Prakash is playing trying to place his role of innocence to the T. He claims that he has a perfect alibi. I don't believe him yet. As a matter of fact, I don't believe any human being. Given the right circumstance, anyone can commit a crime. All our brains seem to have a small location designated for crime. Fortunately, it seems to be buried in a remote part of our brain and we don't use it at most times. So Prakash is still a suspect though he has come to the Police by himself. I don't believe this fellow Kittu either. He only utters nonsense and no man in his senses can utter such nonsense. I have a feeling he is putting up an act. He wants us to believe he is stupid and thus take the suspicion off him. Unfortunately, he ran into me.

I don't believe the watchman is a killer. That seems to go against my logic of all humans are capable of committing a crime. No, it does not. He could have committed a crime but I don't think he is the killer. Let me jot down the unanswered questions and try to find the responses for these.

1. Who came to the house with the victim that morning? All we know is that he was big and tall. He was wearing a green shirt and he carried a brown suitcase.
2. What happened to him? What happened to the brown suitcase? Not known yet.
3. What about the Triple 5 cigarette butt? The victim does not smoke. I am not sure about the others. Wait a minute, Prakash smokes. He smoked right in front of me. Which brand did he smoke? Oh God! I did not notice. Prakash is definitely not off the hook.
4. What happened to the watchman? I have to get details.

XX/XXX/19XX

If the criminal leaves all the required clues at the murder spot then the Police force would not be required.

The watchman has disappeared without trace. He is from Calcutta. Bakshi visited the watchman's home at Calcutta. He has not been seen near his house in the last few days. They received the usual weekly call a day prior to the murder. He can still be considered a suspect but I don't think he has the ability to kill. I have no idea of Prakash's whereabouts. I went to the victim's house but Kittu was not present either. No one knows where they are. It all seems terribly suspicious. The postmortem has not thrown any surprises either. It has given one information though. The victim had died off a single stab. He was killed by a person with a sure hand, which, in my opinion, takes the watchman off the list of suspects. Its been a frustrating day. The case has not gone anywhere.

1. The watchman continues to be missing.
2. Prakash and Kittu are not traceable.
3. The victim was killed by a person with a sure hand.
4. The tall and big man in the green shirt remains a mystery.

XX/XXX/19XX

Today was better than yesterday. Kittu and Prakash landed at the station this morning. They were very apologetic and nervous. I get the feeling they know something that they don't want to reveal. Something has happened since I have met them. They tried to convince me that the watchman is the killer. They gave details of an incident between the watchman and victim. They said that the the watchman had stolen a few Rupees from the victim and there was a big fight among the two. They claimed that the watchman might have killed the victim in revenge and would have stolen the money in the brown suitcase. I wanted to question them about the new angle they have brought in with the money in the suitcase but let them go. I need to find more about the victim. My hopes to solve this case without effort is dashed. Why should every case I handle be so convoluted? Why can't the culprits drop some obvious clues at the crime spot?

I visited the crime site and talked to the victim's neighbours about the victim and the watchman. I realized that there is more to the victim than being Kittu's affectionate Gundu mama. The man had a feisty personality and was liked and disliked almost equally by all. A number of people visited him and many a times discussion went on loud till late in the night. The discussions were always loud and the neighbours found it difficult to differentiate them from arguments. Once one of the neighbours complained about the noise. The victim and Kittu mercilessly hurled abuses at him. "If the neighbour had not backed off, he would probably have been beaten" said one of his neighbours. A few of them also talked about Prakash. They did not like him at all and his behaviour with women was disturbing for all. Its time, I had a talk with these fellows.

XX/XXX/19XX

Where the hell is Kittu and Prakash? What the hell are these two upto?

XX/XXX/19XX

Some might call my meeting with Kittu and Prakash as interrogation but I think of it as discussion. I did not threaten them in any manner. I had to be firm in a few occasions but these did not involve any form of verbal or physical threats; only changes in my voice modulation and facial expressions. Thanks to the discussion, I can feel a glimmer of hope. Let me see if I can reproduce the discussion.

Me: Why do you two keep disappearing?

Kittu: We were here only Sir.

Prakash: Very much here only Sir.

Me: Can you tell where this 'here' is? I was at you residence yesterday and did not find either of you. None of the people were aware of your location. There was no response from the phone number you had provided. So where is 'here'?

Prakash: In the city only, Sir. Just going here and there, Sir.

Me: You like to go around in circles is it? I have a lot of time and have always loved going around in circles. So, please, explain to me 'here' and 'there'.

Prakash: I don't understand, Sir.

Me: I want to know where you were yesterday. Every place you visited with the timings, exact location and the reason why you visited them.

Kittu: Oh! We went to a lot of places, Sir.

Prakash: Too many places to remember, Sir.

Me: Are you two kidding me? You two better come out with the details. Now! (I shouted this out while pulling up one of my eyebrows for effect.)

Kittu: Sir, we had breakfast at Drive-in. Then we visited a friend at Alwarpet. He wanted to express his condolence...

Me: Wait a minute! People who want to express condolence usually visit you. Why did you visit him?

Prakash: He was afraid of visiting Gundu's place. He believes in spirits and ghosts.

Me: Give me his name and details. 

I gave a piece of paper and pen to Kittu. Prakash grabbed them from Kittu and wrote down the details. I took the paper from them and gave it to my subordinates for verifying. When I came back to the room, I saw Kittu and Prakash discuss in whispers. They seemed disturbed. I asked them to sit outside. I decided to check the validity of the person and address. An hour later, I got the confirmation I expected. The details provided were fake. I called the two of them back. Once they settled down, I went close to them, sat of the table and looked down upon them.

Me: The details you provided were fake.

I said this very quietly and waited for a response. None came by. Their frightened looks reminded me of children looking at their angry parents. I knew the time was right for an explosion.

Me: Did you actually think that I will not verify the name and address you provided? The address does not exist. The two of you better come out with the truth. 

The two of them looked at each other without saying anything. I waited for a moment before letting out an explosive "now". It was then that Prakash started talking. "The day after the murder we got a phone call from an anonymous caller. He said that he will call us from time to time to find the information about the case. He also said that if we get to know something we have to inform him first. We were not sure what he was talking about and said we had no information. He repeated that if we found any information we should inform him first.We asked him about his identity. He said he was working for a powerful person who was powerful enough to take care of us and ended the call. We got scared and we left the house. 

Yesterday, while we were walking towards the beach, a car with tinted glasses stopped besides us and some people pushed us into the car from behind. We were blindfolded and taken to some place. There a few people questioned us about the brown briefcase. When we said we did not know about it, they asked us to inform them if we got it. They said they will call us from time to time and we have to give any information we have to them."

The incidents that Prakash recounted reminded me of incidents from one of the detective movie. I told him so but he swore upon the Gods and his ancestors about the truthfulness of the incidents. At that moment, I had no choice but to accept his words. I asked for the time at which he received the call and inquired with the Telephone exchange about the caller's details. A few hours later, I was told that the call came from a public phone in Purasawakkam. I noted the details and decided to visit the victim's apartment to have a look at the place. If Prakash's narration was true, a brown briefcase should be present in the premises.

I searched the house but found nothing. I searched the ground around the house and found nothing. I went up the stairs and searched the terrace but found nothing. I climbed the steps and checked inside water tank but found nothing besides water and algae. The water tank was a height of three feet from the floor. I crawled into the small space and checked it. I found nothing. I was struck by an idea. I tapped the floor underneath the water tank. It sounded hollow in a few place. Soon I found a stone that was loose. I pried it open and found myself staring at a brown briefcase. I controlled my temptation to take it out. The existence of the suitcase confirmed Prakash's narration. This would probably mean that the place was being watched. I carefully placed the stone back, posted two police men to guard the terrace and left.

I will leave in another 15 minutes and get the briefcase without anyone noticing it hopefully.

XX/XXX/19XX (2 days after the last entry)

I found the brown briefcase where I had left it earlier that day. I took it out carefully and climbed down through the pipes. I was not sure, if someone was observing still and decided to use the cover of the night. I did not take the briefcase to the police station, instead I checked into one of the lodges near the victim's house. I opened the briefcase and found that it contained a single document. I took it out and went through it. It was a will document, which specified the transfer of a person's property to a lady. The Testator's name seemed familiar. I sat back and searched my head some more but I could not find any further reference to these names in it. I went through the will and kept it back in the briefcase.

Next morning, I asked the my subordinate to find details of the two persons named in the will. He came back fifteen minutes later and said "Sir, the man was a famous industrialist who died recently." I did not remember the industrialist and so asked him to explain. He said that six month ago the seventy year old industrialist had fallen from the Tamilnadu express. There was some investigation but it was found that he had died when the door closed suddenly on him as he was brushing his teeth. They could not trace the lady's name immediately but was on the lookout for information. I decided to find more about the industrialist's family. He had three sons who were taking care of the organizations he had started. All of them were stellar citizens who took part in various public events and were known for their philanthropic nature. All the well known personalities of the city hobnobbed with them. The plot was thickening beyond my imagination.

Three hours later, I received the information about the lady. She had died two months ago. Apparently she had slipped and fallen from her balcony. Gundu mama's case seemed trivial in comparison to what was emerging. But I had nothing in my hands other than speculation. The people involved were powerful and it would have been difficult to catch them with solid evidence. What can one do with speculation?

I spent the day in finding a relation between the industrialist and the lady but could not find anything. They lived in different location, worked in unrelated fields and moved around in unrelated circles. I could not uncover any connection between the two, not even in the gossip circles. I only had two connections between them. First, she was the beneficiary of his will and both had died within a space of four months. This more than anything else tells a story but I am unable to discover anything beyond it.

The next morning, I met the Commissioner early in the morning. I explained to him the case, right from the moment Kittu's phone call landed in the station. At the end of the narration, I showed him the briefcase with the will document. He went through the story and the will quietly. He looked up at me and stared at my face for some moment before saying "Why do you land up with such cases? This is the fourth time you have come to me with such a case. What do you think we should do?"  I wanted to confront the three brothers with the will document and the latest murder. The Commissioner was skeptical "What will you confront them with? How will you prove the genuineness of the document? How will connect all this to them? How can you go beyond speculation?" I did not have an answer to his questions. He asked me if I had found any relation between the latest victim and the industrialist. I had checked but could not find any relation. I speculated that probably the man in the green shirt was related to the industrialist. The Commissioner laughed and said "You cannot go anywhere with this case. You will ruffle a few feathers and then be transferred to some Godforsaken place. Is that what you want?" I obviously did not want that happen.

The Commissioner advised me blame the watchman and close the current murder case. He said "For all you know, the watchman might be a hired killer. Did you not mention that he has been around for only a few weeks? He disappeared after the murder too. So he is probably the culprit. So assign the murder on him, put out a search for him and close the case. Move on!" I asked what's to be done with the brown briefcase and the will. He asked me to leave it with him.

It has been decided! The watchman is the murderer. We are searching for him and have published his photographs in the newspapers and posters. We are on the lookout for a murderer.

Yet another case ends up in the depths of this book. It cannot see the light of the day.

Lester needs a few Bodys

I was lying down besides the pond next to the old Banyan tree when I heard footsteps approaching me. Four oddly dressed persons walked up to me. They bowed and one of them said "Sir, can I snatch a piece of your precious time?" I was intrigued by this usage of words and agreed readily. He continued somberly "I am Everybody, this is Nobody, that is Anybody and the person at the end is Somebody. We have been treated unjustly by the poet Shel." "Who is Shel?" I asked trying to stop the world from spinning. Nobody said "Shel is the poet who wrote about Lester. Surely, you have heard of Lester?" I felt embarrassed and gave out a non-committal "Hmmm, aaaahh, ohhhhhh".  Somebody jumped in and said "He wrote about Lester and the Goblin but left us out of the poem. Everybody was there; it could not have happened if not for Somebody; Anybody could have walked out of it but he didn't; Nobody talked about it. So how come we don't figure in the poem?" Nobody asked pleadingly "Please write the actual happenings as we recount it to you." I felt dazed with some many Body's and agreed to do so.

They recited the happening and I wrote what follows.

Lester:	Lester was given a magic wish
Goblin:	By the goblin who lives in the banyan tree,
Lester:	And with his wish he wished for two more wishes— So now instead of just one wish, he cleverly had three.
Goblin:	Uh uh! You got your mathematics wrong. You had one and asked for two but in the process you lost one and you ended up with two.
Lester:	Uh uh uh! I used the one wish to wish for two wishes and since I wished for wishes the wish does not count and so I have two plus one wish, which makes it three wishes. You wish you were as clever as me but your wish is will remain a wish for I am cleverer than clever and I have three wishes
Goblin:	But... eh! Wish... eh! Two... Oh! Too clever or so you think. Its two and not three
Lester:	Three
Goblin:	Two
Lester:	Three
Goblin:	Two
Lester:	Three
Goblin:	Two
Lester:	Two
Goblin:	Three
Lester:	Yooohoooo! And with each one of these THREE wishes He simply wished for three more wishes, Which gave him three old wishes, plus nine new.
Goblin:	There he goes again. Its two old wishes, plus nine new
Lester:	There he goes again. Its three old wishes, plus nine new
Goblin:	Two and nine
Lester:	Three and nine
Somebody:	Will you both stop it
Anybody:	Fighting over a wish
Nobody:	Yes, over a measly wish
Goblin:	Hey! Nobody calls my wish a measly wish. Nobody should call my wish a measly wish. With a wish somebody can get a lot of something. With a wish anybody can get a lot of anything, even nobody will no longer be nobody.
Lester:	And with each of these twelve He slyly wished for three more wishes. Which added up to forty-six—or is it fifty-two?
Somebody:	Fifty-one
Goblin:	Yes! Fifty-one. Somebody, here take a wish
Somebody:	Gee thanks. But why did you give it to me? You can give it to anybody.
Everybody:	Why Anybody? Give it to Everybody
Goblin:	Quiet! I am already struggling with Lester and his wishes. So nobody gets my wish.
Nobody	Thank you Goblin
Goblin:	Not Nobody! I meant nobody. I guess it is easier to agree with Lester. Its nine plus three Lester
Lester:	Well anyway, he used each wish To wish for wishes ‘til he had Five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-four.
Everybody:	Ah! There he goes again. Lester, nobody is worse in maths than you.
Nobody:	Hey Everybody! What do you know about my knowledge in maths?
Everybody:	I did not mean Nobody. I meant nobody. Anybody can understand that.
Anybody:	Actually, I did not understand that.
Everybody:	Ah! I can’t take this anymore. Somebody, please help me.
Somebody:	How can I help you, Everybody?
Everybody:	Oh, forget it! Lester, I counted and it’s only Five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-two.
Lester:	No, no, no, no! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-four.
Everybody:	No, no, no, no! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-two.
Goblin:	No, no, no, no! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-four.
Lester:	Yes, yes, yes, yes! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-four.
Nobody:	No, no, no, no! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-two.
Somebody:	Yes, yes, yes, yes! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-two.
Lester	No, no, no, no! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-four.
Goblin:	Yes, yes, yes, yes! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-four.
Anybody:	No, no, no, no! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-two.
Goblin:	Quiet everybody. This is nobody’s business. Lester, go on.
Nobody:	How come it only not my business? What about Somebody, Anybody and Everybody.
Goblin:	Lester, GO ON.
Lester:	And then he spread them on the ground And skipped and sang, and then sat down And wished for more. And more… And more… They multiplied
Somebody, Everybody, Nobody, Anybody:	While other people smiled and cried And loved and reached and touched and felt.
Somebody:	Come Lester, let us play.
Anybody:	You have no clue That the sky is blue, The clouds are white The sun is shining bright On the grass that is greener than green Let’s play before we dine
Lester:	No sky for me No clouds for me The sun can’t steal my wishes The grass can’t dream of my wishes My wishes are mine Only mine, mine, mine
Somebody:	Let’s play Lester before we dine
Lester:	My wishes are mine Only mine, mine, mine
Nobody:	Let’s play Lester before we dine
Lester:	My wishes are mine Only mine, mine, mine
Everybody:	Let’s play Lester before we dine
Lester:	My wishes are mine Only mine, mine, mine
Somebody, Everybody, Nobody, Anybody:	Oh Lester, why can’t you come and play with us?
Lester:	Lester sat amid his wealth Stacked mountain-high like stacks of gold. Sat and counted—and grew old.
Somebody, Everybody, Nobody, Anybody:	And then one Thursday night they found him
Goblin:	It wasn’t a Thursday. It was a Friday.
Somebody, Everybody, Nobody, Anybody:	It was a Thursday, Goblin. It was two days before the weekend.
Goblin:	It was definitely a Friday. One day before Saturday and one day after Thursday. I am sure.
Somebody, Everybody, Nobody, Anybody:	Wait! Let us see. What did you do on Monday, Goblin?
Goblin:	I slept under the tree.
Everybody:	What did you do on Tuesday, Goblin?
Goblin:	I slept on the tree.
Nobody:	What did you do on Wednesday, Goblin?
Goblin:	I slept by the mushroom.
Anybody:	What did you do on Thursday, Goblin?
Goblin:	I slept in a room.
Somebody:	What did you do on Friday, Goblin?
Goblin:	I woke up and found Lester dead
Somebody, Everybody, Nobody, Anybody:	That’s true Goblin. Lester died on Thursday and you found him dead on Friday
Goblin:	Oh! Could that be so?
Somebody, Everybody, Nobody, Anybody:	That is so, Goblin. And then one Thursday night they found him. Dead—with his wishes piled around him. And they counted the lot and found that not A single one was missing.
Somebody:	Seventy six billion trillion, ninety four million, twenty two thousand, one
Anybody:	Seventy six billion trillion, ninety four million, twenty two thousand, one
Nobody:	Seventy six billion trillion, ninety four million, twenty two thousand, one
Anybody:	Seventy six billion trillion, ninety four million, twenty two thousand, one
Somebody:	All shiny and new—here, take a few
Anybody:	And think of Lester as you do.
Nobody:	In a world of apples and kisses and shoes
Anybody:	He wasted his wishes on wishing.

I looked up when they stopped reciting the incident and asked "is that all?" They shook their heads in affirmation. I asked them further "What happened to the wishes?" They responded in unison "Oh! We used it to get here."

The ten commandments of WhatsApp groups

I find it hard to believe that we live in 2018. The 21st century is 18 years old and thankfully we don't have flying cars. That's right, I said thankfully not by mistake. WhatsApp is a popular social application used by millions. These millions poke and peek through this window at most times during their day. Yet most of these millions have no idea how to deal with the simple concept of WhatsApp groups. How can people who have no idea of using the concept of WhatsApp groups deal with flying cars? They will fill our skies with so many fireballs that meteors will shy away from from our planet worrying their safety. 

I hear you say "Come on! Being a part of WhatsApp groups does not require rocket science!" Before I respond to your uncalled for comment, I have to warn you on the usage of the phrase "rocket science". One cannot use it in a frivolous manner. This phrase has been created to be used exclusively in corporate review meetings. One cannot even think of this phrase outside these meetings. So use it with care and show some respect. 

WhatsApp groups per-se is not a complicated concept. As a matter of fact, even a two year old can create this group and send a goo-goo-gaa-gaa message every morning. But this does not make the group an effective WhatsApp group and if your group is not effective, it will disappear from the face of this what-a-planet in a matter of days. Unfortunately, most people treat WhatsApp groups like the above mentioned two year old. They are not aware of the commandments that govern a WhatsApp group. Any group that does not follow these commandments will be smoked out of existence. Unfortunately, these commandments are either lost or are hidden from the common public by a selfish few. But you don't have to fret in agony at this inaccessibility. I am here to save the day. After in-depth analysis of many groups and messages I have managed to decipher some of these commandments. I am sure I don't have them all but if your WhatsApp group follows these ten commandments, there is an 80% chance of its survival. So listen carefully.

1. Thou shalt change the name of the group every two months: I remember a group named "Friends Forever". This was a healthy group that exchanged a minimum of ten messages every day. One day, inexplicably, the group admin exited and the group just fell apart. There were no symptoms; the group had a cardiac arrest. The post-mortem revealed that the members of the group had no bothered to change their name for a year and hence it drowned in the waters of chihuahua. Studies have revealed that groups that change their name once every 10 weeks have a 67% chance of survival.

2. Thou shalt change the profile picture every month: Similar to the above commandment but deadlier. Groups tend to lose members at the rate of one per week if they don't follow this commandment. The digital profile is usually treated with cynicism by many but it is a make or break in the social world. So treat it with respect.

3. Eight is a holy number: Groups should avoid sending less than eight messages a day. I don't mean eight messages as an average but every day. Worse, if they send exactly eight messages for more than eight days a month, the group will cease to be alive within the next eight weeks. Be warned!

4. Respond with respect: The DNA of a group is encoded in the messages exchanged between its members. Hence messages demand the utmost respect from the group members. A message should be responded with appropriate respect within a stipulated amount of time. My analysis has brought to light the existence of a few message response rules. 

A forward message should be responded with a set of emojis of the appropriate kind or a series of forward message. For example, if a person sends a funny forward, you could respond with one of the laughing emojis or send back a few funny forwards. The word to note here is forward; a forward cannot be responded to in your own words. So avoid those "Good one"s and "That was funny"s. Such responses to forwards have known to harm the group in the long run.

5. Originality must be appreciated: A group should not only consist of forwarded messages. Each member should send a non-forwarded message once every four and a half days. This message should belong to one of the following categories. It could be an announcement of an event in your life. I frequently receive stimulating messages like "happy to inform that I have been chosen the best employee under five feet six in my office this month". Such messages should receive congratulatory responses from 94.5% of the members in the group within the next hour. The responses should be a combination of congratulatory words and emojis. Though messages with hand clap and bouquet emojis need not add any words.

The second category of messages demands a commandment for itself

6. Spread the message of life: The second type of message is inspirational in nature and should be based on the member's personal experiences. Such messages are important for the survival of the group. I have known many groups that have folded up by ignoring this commandment. Once I was nearly responsible, for the folding up of a group. I had not sent an inspirational message for more than a week. I had less than five minutes, when the song "Islands in the stream" started playing. I took out my mobile and started typing immediately. Time was running out and my fingers spiraled into nervous shivers. But I managed to the send out following message with 10 seconds to spare.

You attain equanimity when life consists of island of disturbances and not islands of peace.

I am not sure what it means but I was thrilled to use the words island and equanimity in a single sentence (in case you haven't noticed, I have used island twice). I waited with bated breath. This commandment demands at least one adulatory response within the first five minutes. At the end of the fourth minute, the phone buzzed and I found a response that said "Very true" with the thumbs up emoji. The group was saved at the nick of the time. Incidentally, the response to such messages can never be a criticism.

7. Never, ever analyse an adulatory response: This one is a killer. I have seen nearly 10 groups breathe their last due to the breaking of this commandment. As a matter of fact, in the above case, I analysed the response "Very true" and as a result the group collapsed within the next month. 

8. Exercise makes one live longer: Most of the above rules are not applicable to groups that share their exercise routine and details. If more than six members of the group post an exercise related message every morning, the group will live forever. "Feel fresh after the 10 km run. More to come", "Beach volleyball is the best", "A coffee before a game of cricket. What more can life offer!", "Butter roast dosa after an invigorating run". This list is never ending. A photograph of the dosa or the coffee cups is definitely an added advantage. But care should be taken that no faces appear in such photographs. One group published a photo of the people holding the cup of coffee against their face and to make matters worse, one of the fellows had his ugly tongue out. By the evening, 75% of the members left the group. 

9. There is a time for clarity; there is a time for complexity: While crisp and clear messages are very important for a group, a group should resort to complex and indecipherable messages when its survival is in question. I remember a group that was losing people like trees in a cyclone and then the admin sent the following message.

The point of the matter is that I get angry when I am told about matters I already know. But the problem in this matter is that I am not sure what I know and what I don't. So when someone tells me something, I start wondering if I already know it. I think hard but of no avail and this leads me to anger. Hence it is important one does not think much and as a result become angry

In the past year, the group's membership has tripled.

10. Keep the old messages alive: Every month, you should send a message that you have sent six months earlier. It is said that the disappearance of a message could result in the closure of WhatsApp. By messages, I mean forwarded messages. In 2016, a 16 year old went missing from Chennai. Messages regarding this missing boy reached a remote town of Alaska in mid-2017.  The boy reached home within six hours of his being missed (he had slept under a tree in a park). Nearly two years later, I received the missing boy's message in a group. It was sent by the boy's father. I called him up and asked him about his boy's whereabouts. He responded that he was inside the American embassy waiting for his visa interview. I was perplexed and enquired about the message he had sent. His response was as follows "Oh! Was that him? No wonder the picture looked familiar. I got it in one of the groups and forwarded it to our group. Did not realize it was him." One has to keep the spirit of never letting a message die alive.

These ten commandments are as important in today's world as Mel Brooks' were in those days. Many wake up in the morning to check their WhatsApp groups and all of us are responsible for the well being of these folks.

Influence from God knows where

The first impression was not an impression at all. Just a person who walks into one's life to exist for sometime and then fade away. Somewhere along the way the talks made an impact. The thoughts were fresh, not quite like what was heard before. The force of character, though not obvious, reaches across. One had to sit up and take notice. Then little things catches notice. Soon, life is changed. One does not look at things as before. The way ahead is not straight. The scary by-lanes look inviting. When one realizes the destination is not written in stone ... Well, it's not even written on sand. One realizes any path is good enough. Going down that scary by-lane is no longer an adventure, it is part of the plan. One cannot reach the destination unless that path is taken.

Among all the good and bad the person brings in, the good stays on forever.

43

I did not have an opinion about the number 43.  I knew it lived between 42 and 44 but beyond that it really did not have anything to catch my attention.  I suddenly thought maybe 7 was affectionate enough to make it divisible but soon realized that 7's affections are with 42 and not 43.  That's when it struck me that 43 is probably a prime number.  I was obviously not going to find it out the hard way.  So I searched Google and the first result from Wikipedia told me that it is the 14th smallest prime number.  The 13th smallest number is 41 and the 15th smallest number is 47.  So 43 is not even located in a "prime" island.  It seems to be a lost case for 43 - all others 40 numbers has some personality but not 43.  40 has a zero at its end.  41 is one after 40 and 1941 is a movie made by Spielberg.  42 is nice and even with 2 times 2 making 4 and all such stuff.  Also, the history books from school make it impossible to forget the Quit India movement of 1942.  44 looks nice and cure with two 4s.  45 has a five stuck in its rear end and that always make a number attractive.  46 is a well rounded even number.  47 is the 15th prime (bravo!) and for over a billion people on this planet 1947 is a very important year.  48 is another of rounded number which forms a vital part of that sad year named 1948.  49 - is 7 squared, which means it can magically transform into a cool 7 under a square root.  Clearly, 43 is a miserable number.  Now to check one last time about the happenings in the year 1943.  Interesting!   The world was stuck in the thick of world war 2 and a number of interesting personalities took birth.

1. Janis Joplin

2. Joe Pesci

3. George Harrison

4. Bobby Fischer

5. Keith Relf

6. John Major

7. Vangelis

8. Christopher Walken

9. Illayaraja

10. Christine McVie

11. Mick Jagger

12. Richard Wright

13. Pervez Musharraf

14. Robert De Niro

15. Roger Waters

16.  Lech Wałęsa

17. Chevy Chase

18. Mohammad Khatami

19. John Kerry

20. Keith Richards

21. John Denver

22. Ben Kingsley

Quite an impressive list - It has half of Pink Floyd and Rolling Stones in it.  43 holds some hope!  Maybe this is the number to sow seeds for the future.  Maybe this is the number to break the mirror reflecting the past and look at the future.

Fade to black

I was feeling very happy that evening.  After many miserable days and nights, I was very hopeful of it happening that night.  I had waited for a long time and many a times felt it come by.  But this evening the feeling was much stronger.  I could hear the people run around in agitation.  Some of them seemed to very close working on something with urgency.  There was a lot of shouting but with every shout my happiness increased.  Oh yes!  I was ready.  I had waited for this moment for long.  My thoughts were on what happens afterwards.  Where would I go?  What would happen to me?  I had heard a lot about it but did not know what to believe and what not to.  So I waited eagerly for it to happen.  Suddenly my happiness started reducing.  I started feeling a pain.  I did not quite understand where the pain came from.  But it was there and it increased as time went by.  Soon, I lost all remembrance of the happiness.  The pain had become unbearable and it was all over me.  I wanted to shout and scream but did not know how.  I wanted to run away but did not way where my legs were.  All that I could feel was the pain.  And then the pain stopped.

The noise of the world went away.  The need for the shout subsisted.  I had felt anything for a long time but the feeling of nothing that came by was very different.  I tried to understand what was happening.  For the first time in many days, I looked around but saw nothing.  Earlier I could hear the people around me but now I heard nothing.  I used to feel pain earlier but I did not even feel that now.  And then the nothing started fading out.

In-waste-igation

The phone starts ringing.  Someone picks it up  and starts speaking.
"Inspector Vasu here".
"Sir, dead body." says a voice at the other end.
"What? Where? How?" asks an excited Vasu.
"Gundu mama is dead sir." responds the voice.
"Who is Gundu mama?"
"My uncle sir"
"Who are you?"
"Kittu sir."
"Where is the dead body?"
"In the bedroom sir"
"Give me the address you bloody fool"

Inspector Vasu notes down the address, dons his cap and sprints to his jeep.  He passes the address to the driver and instructs him "Go there".  The driver speeds through the city streets and gets to the location within minutes.  There is a crowd gathered outside a house.  Vasu pushes his way through the crowd and enters the house asking for Kittu.  Kittu comes forward and guides the inspector to the dead Gundu mama.  As the name suggests, Gundu mama was a fat man.   His body is lying on the floor besides the bed.  The floor around his neck is splashed with blood.

"He is dead sir" comments Kittu.
Inspector Vasu stares at him but does not answer.  He walks around the body, sitting and looking at the body from different angles.  He picks up the right arm and feels for the pulse.  "He is dead no?" asks Kittu.  "Get out of here" responds Vasu.  He continues to look at the body from different angles.  People watch him through the windows and doors in the room and exchange thoughts and comments.
"Murdered"
"Brutal"
"It could have been suicide"
"No chance, murder"
"His son hated him"
"No it must have been his brother-in-law"
"I saw someone running out of the house last night"
"That inspector will have a tear in his pants"
"Unfriendly guy"
"That fellow Kittu seems fishy"

"Silence" cries out Inspector Vasu "Someone remove these people from here".  He starts looking at other objects in the room.  He takes out his hand kerchief and pick up a bottle of water from a table in the room.  He holds it against the light and stares at it intently.  He puts back the bottle and picks up a book lying on the bed.  He runs through the pages and drops it back on to the bed.  He then gets to the feet of body and attempts to determine the position of the killer.  He then goes back to the door and attempts to enact how the killer would have got into the room.  As he does this, he observes the floor for some clues.  Suddenly, he stops, bends down and picks up a cigarette butt.  He smells it and then checks it.  "Hmmmmm, triple 5" he says.  He then goes back through the draws in the room but does not find what he is looking for.  He calls back Kittu and asks "Which brand of cigarette did this man smoke?".
"He does not smoke" replies Kittu.
"Hmmmm, who visited this man yesterday"
"He was in the city yesterday.  He only came back this morning."
"Mmmmmm hmmmmm, so somebody killed him this morning."
"Who visited him this morning?"
"I don't know.  I only came in now."
"Does anyone else know?"
"The watchman said that a person wearing a green shirt accompanied mama."
"Who was he?"
"I don't know sir."
"Mmmmmm, get the watchman."

The watchman walks into the room and stares at the body.  Inspector Vasu clears his throat and asks "Tell me what happened this morning?"  He does not get any response from the watchman, who continues to stare at the body.  "Dai, what happened this morning?"  No response still; his eyes are on verge of popping out now.  Inspector Vasu taps the watchman on his should and repeats "What happened this morning?"  The watchman gives the inspector a terrified look and faints.  The inspector kicks the wall in frustration and shouts "Take this idiot out of here".

Vasu walks into the hall and sees that the watchman has come back to his senses.  He sits opposite to the watchman and repeats the question.  The watchman says "Sir" tentatively.  He then lets out series of incoherent sounds.  The inspector gets up, walks out of the house, takes in a few breathes of fresh air and walks back into the room.  He gives an inquiring look at the watchman who has regained some control on his senses.  "Sir this morning, sir came back to his house with another man.  I did not see the man leave."
"Was he wearing a green shirt?"
"Yes sir."
"How did he look?"
"He was a tall and big man.  I could not see his face.  He was bald."
"Big man mmmmm."
"Was he carrying anything?"
"He was carrying a brief case."
"Which colour?"
"Brown sir"
"Do you see it here?"
The watchman looks around the room  and says "no sir".
"Go and check the other rooms"
"SIR?" cries the watchman.
"Ok, ok.  I will take care of the room with the body"
The brief case is not found anywhere.  Inspector Vasu calls Kittu over and asks him about this man in the green shirt.  Kittu does not know who it is.  He asks the watch man to describe the man to Kittu.  Kittu thinks for a moment and says that sounds like Prakash mama.
"Who is Prakash mama?"
"Gundu mama had visited him yesterday."
"So this guy must have come back with him, right?"
"I don't know sir."
"Do you have his phone number?"
"No, but we can check Gundu mama's phone book."
The phone book has Prakash mama's number.  Kittu calls up and finds out that Prakash mama had left the previous night with Gundu mama and they did not know his current location.  Kittu asks them to call back once any information about Prakash mama is heard.  He turns to Inspector Vasu and says "Prakash mama has killed Gundu mama", who promptly asks Kittu to shut up.
"Do you have Prakash's photograph?"
"I don't know" replies Kittu.
"Can you describe him?" asks Inspector Vasu.
"Yes"
"Then come by to the station"

The next day, Inspector looks through the details of the case sipping tea.  A constable walks in and says "Prakash and Kittu are here to see you".  Inspector Vasu jumps out of his seat and shouts "Show them in."  The persons enter the room and Inspector Vasu grabs the person with Kittu, who he assumes is Prakash, and shouts "Mr.Prakash, you are under arrest for the murder of ehhhh, errrrrr, Gundu mama".
Prakash cries out "No, no, I did not kill him".
"Ha ha ha, that is what all criminals say but no one escapes the long arms of the law".
"No, no, I did not kill him."
"The law has caught up with you old man.  You are under arrest."
"No, no, I did not kill him."
Kittu jumps in "No, no, Prakash mama did not kill Gundu mama."
"What do you know? I am the inspector here and I have proof that this man Prakash killed the man."
"What proof?" demands Prakash.
"Why should I tell you?"
"Because I have the right to know."
"Sir" interject Kittu "the watchman is missing".
"What has that got to do with this case?" asks Inspector Vasu.
"Soon after you left, the watch man left with a bag and has not turned up still.  Prakash mama called home and heard about Gundu mama.  So he got in touch with me."
"Yes sir" said Prakash in agreement "Gundu was alive when I left.  Something must have happened after I left"
"Hmmm, so the watch man is missing is it?" asks Inspector Vasu.

Inspector Vasu, Prakash and Kittu reach the murder site and start questioning the people about the watchman.  No one has seen him since the previous day.  They search his small room but does not find anything of interest in the room.  "Where is the brown brief case?" asks Inspector Vasu.  "Which brown brief case?" asks Praskash.  "The one Gundu mama was carrying" says Kittu.  "Gundu did not have any brown briefcase."  responds Prakash lighting a cigarette.  "Mmmmm hmmmm" says Inspector Vasu "let us get that watchman."

Now, Inspector Vasu is in search for the watch man named Mani.  He is average height and wheatish complexion.  He also a mole one of his cheeks (some people say right cheek and others left).  He has a moustache and is not fat.  If you see anyone of this description, mail to vasu@inspectorvasu.com