How do Indians Reproduce? - An Objective Study (Nonsense Prose)

1. Introduction:

The sub continental society has been a diverse mixture of races, creeds and living species. It is arguably one of the most prolific arenas where procreation has most certainly not been the last aspect to be given thought to. For a country having a male to female ratio that would astound and kick-start anxious researches and surveys by feminist groups, India seems to be doing distinctly well along the lines of reproduction. With a huge geographical landmass with distinct subcultures, Indians seem to adopt a very elaborate but no less effective mating cycle to stay ahead of the world in child production.

2. Body:

2. a.Phase One: Initial Setups and Environments:

Though the techniques described below are used selectively among populace they are increasingly being used across stately borders, underlining the overall importance of this primitive ritual over any other differences of caste, colour creed etc.

To start with there is a male specimen. And then there are six more such specimens arranged circumferentially with varying degrees of scorn and contempt on their countenances. The ritual commences when a suitable female specimen, trailed by some inferior specimens of the same sex, approach the setting. The main male specimen, after checking that all the omens are to his favour pounces on the unsuspecting approaching troupe only to be surprised that the latter is not so inclined towards the scheme. The six supporting specimen at this point emit laughter characterized by varying pitches and a sudden itch in their chins. This exercise more often than not is doomed to fail for the initiator but succeeds in its general objective of population increase. This is achieved by the invariable intervention, rather physically, by another more brutish alpha male who succeeds in persuading the experimenters that he would like to proceed from this point alone.

2.b.Phase Two: Elements and Geography

From this stage the steps would involve only two specimens. The others having fulfilled their roles to the best of their abilities retire into the society to create more such opportunities and thereby fulfilling their social responsibilities.

In this stage the two specimens show a marked increase to be mobile. Moreover this stage also proffers to increase the vocabulary of the two through addition of new terms of endearments. These newly coined terms are noted to be uttered in whispers and giggles and in some extreme cases moans.

Consumerism is on the rise among the two and it is not surprising to spot the specimens frequenting retailers, eateries and cultural spots during this phase. It is however interesting to note that the nature of such places visited or products purchased are in marked deviation to what had been used by either of the two specimens before courtship. And much to the well-hidden chagrin of the male specimen and ill-hidden glee of the female specimen there is always a soft squeaky product pink in colour which would be referred to by the same terms of endearment invented by the female of the species during this period.

Tendencies to stretch the tendons and limbs by rotating or revolving around suitably sized objects like trees and small household objects like chairs and tables have also been noted. Rain and shallow water bodies are also inventively employed to further the cause.

2.c.Stage Three: Consummation:

This is still a mystery to all involved in the process. Stalwarts have dwelled and delved into the issue at length and have as of now managed to unearth some details regarding this mystic practice.

This stage is reached after a particularly insidious and elaborate ceremony. This ceremony is attended by all of the society who resides in the vicinity of the two specimens and who have seen them during their lifetimes. There are a certain group of specimens who bear grudges against either or both of the specimens and who carry out subtle torture techniques during the ceremony. These could be attiring the two in remarkably impractical costumes, parading them before the society and trying to burn their hands over a pyre.

After this ceremony, during the night, is the secret initiation that is performed only by the two main specimens. Having no reliable witnesses of the ceremony and due to the non co operation of those who have been initiated this study from this point is just a thought exercise.

Accessories imperative to this however have been methodically noted. It is just a matter of time before a suitable theory is advanced by our scientists that will shed light on this. The accessories are a glass of milk and a bowl of fruits, consisting mainly of apples, bananas, grapes and oranges. Jackfruits, watermelons, guavas etc are avoided.Incense sticks, and badly mutilated flowers are also postulated to play an important part in this.

3. Conclusion:

We are almost there in trying to decipher this mysterious and yet alluring social drama that is unfolded before our very eyes everyday. Our mission of seeking and publishing the "entire" truth is just a matter of time. Till then our investigations and deductions will continue to progress down the echoing hallways of truth.

Annexe: Stalwarts who have actually not been initiated but have unearthed this secret have turned traitors by trying to stave off our scientific quest by trying to turn our attention to other allegedly unconnected events or objects. Shrubs or trees being shaken, a revolving ceiling fan, the interiors of a shenai etc. have all been used to beguile the minds of the seekers.

Fakes on a plane! (News)

Should the 12 Indian men have been arrested in the Dutch plane?Is this racial profiling? Are the Europeans getting xenophobic? How dare they do this?

30 hours after the arrest the 12 people who were arrested turned out to be all normal fellow humans. Businessmen making their way back from deals and moneymaking trips, just happy to be back with their family. Their parents, sisters, in-laws, spouses all have seen their humane side. Their pathetic jokes, maybe their tantrums, anxiety of flying etc. All in all a bunch of normal loud people making their way home in a European flight to homeland. Then why were they arrested? The Ministry of External Affairs has made public its displeasure at the handling of things. The religious community has been insulted as all the 12 people who were arrested were Muslims.

Now. A couple of things to remember when these passengers were making their way home.

1. Britain is on a "terror thwarting" mission and naturally this panic is infectious. No one in their sane minds is going to tolerate ANY suspicious activity on a plane especially by young people of Asian origins.
Why? Because even though the majority of us are peace loving fellows, there are a bunch of extremists who would not hesitate in targeting civilians. So even though we directly are in the right to say "Hey...I'm cool..no worry man.. I just speak Arabic/Hindi(which you might not understand) but I ain't going to blow your plane apart", we ought to be sitting quite and following the instruction given by the crew to buckle up the seat belts and stay put for around 8 hours.

Point: IF the crew had indeed asked that they stop exchanging cell phones, laptops and not to jump seats and they did not comply they were right in being arrested. That they were a bunch of kiddos or nonterrorists in the end is not reason enough not to have complied with whatever safety regulations.

2.Is this not then racial profiling? Why is it that the Europeans are not suspected of all these activities?
It is because none of the Europeans have blown a plane yet! If this happens a couple of times they too'll start getting escorted out of the planes. So as of now though this is a form of racial profiling, I consider it justified. Because that is where they are expecting the violence to come from and unfortunately they have been right most of the time.

3.So what does this incident teach us? That the non-Europeans magnanimously subvert their natural exuberance under the conditions and go out of their way to show that they are a peaceful and progressive race.

4.And once this is done for a considerably justifiable time period then both the parties have to acknowledge the fact that they can be reconciled and live happily ever after(of course the economic battles will always be waging).

And like Samuel L Jackson would have said, "Enough is enough! We've have had it with these ************* bombs on this ************* plane!

One Fine Day! (True Story)

If you are the type who sympathises, who goes "oh..poor chap..tch tch", on seeing someone
getting mauled by life then please skip this post. However, if on the other hand, the whole
general prospect of reliving vicariously the sight of me getting kicked in the posterior
figuratively makes you smack your lips and rub your hands with glee,please do peruse the lines
below and sate yourselves.Gloat,smirk,laugh or do whatever it is that you normally do when you crowd around with craning necks to watch a bloody spectacle.You people are not of this age but
ought to have been born as a gladiator battling starving lions in Rome under Caligula Caesar.

Traitor.You are reading this?And here I was thinking you were the benevolent type.Well,as I
have given my word to narrate the incidents of the day I do not renege on it.I hope one day
all this happens to you too.

It was a pretty innocuous start to the day.8:30 am.The two characters who share my room have made their exits.The whole place to myself.I stretch.Yawn and prevaricate as much as possible
before rolling off my bed to start contemplating a bath.Wrapping a towel around my waist I
gravitate towards the bath and light the candle.(No.No.Not the bulb.The candle.Thats another
story.Now we take bath in candlelight and trust me when I say it ain’t half as romantic as how
they depict them in the movies.)

After having alternately scalded and frozen my skin off trying to adjust the temperature of
the water,I step out to dress and get ready for work.I turn the knob of my door.It does not
budge.There must be a mistake.I see if the door has a keyhole.No.It doesn't.I try the door
again.Not even an inch.I take a deep breath."It's okay.Calm down.You are simply locked out of
your room with just a towel on.Nothing to worry.Happens to everyone.Some cool thinking and
everything is going to be fine.Right?" I reason out.But.

So what would you have done?I ask you.Well what I did was try and list out everything that I
could possible do.

1.Call up someone up-But no numbers.My cell phone was locked in.No money to make a call.My
wallet was within.Unfortunately I don't normally carry it when I go for my bath.

What?Thats it?No more options?No.Maybe I was undernourished.I walked into the kitchen and
pondered my predicament over a bowl of cornflakes.What happens next,I totally blame it on the breakfast.The POLICE.

I don't know how I came to this solution.No.Actually I think I do.It all has to do with my
boss who keeps saying "I'm going to kick your ass.."because he in turn has a superior whose
only purpose to exist seems to be to put sole on my poor boss behind.Somehow I got the idea
that how muchever footing my boss took its going to cascade down to me and that is what
prompted me to walk into the RotherHithe Police Station.

What do you expect inside a policestation?A couple of ruddy,beefy policemen,sneering conmen or atleast a noticeboard with closeup shots of ugly mugs right?Well there was only a frail old
lady whom I had startled out of her slumber with my whirlwind entry.Annoyed I looked around
for some stereotypes.Noone."I am locked out" I blurted out.The old lady is listening.I also
notice that her expression has not changed.I suddenly started feeling a bit awkward(how could
I have come in here with this ridiculous demand?).And when she finally realized that the one
sentence just about summarizes my situation she gave one smirk,turned around and focussed her attention towards her halfeaten doughnut.

I dont know if you have done it,but its very tough to slink out unnoticed after such a big
stinker like that.And as I was dragging myself out redfaced she took pity on me and suggested
that I try the fire station.Once I embark on a mission there is nothing that can stop me.Next
destination-FireStation.Its a good thing I did not reach the place.Walking halfway down(no
money to buy tickets too)I stopped to ask a cop directions to the place.I explained my
predicament and by the time he was done with me I realized somethings.You don't have to be
dressed like a clown to make people laugh.And policemen have a weird sense of humour.

Never one to give up I approached a tool lending shop.

"Excuse me.I need a ladder."
"No problem sir.100 pounds cash deposit and a proof of residence would do."
"Umm..Can I give it to you after I break in..Oh shit..I mean make my entry..I mean.."
"Sir.."
"Yes?"..gulp
"Are you a breaking into someone's place?Do you have an id?"
Harry Houdini could not have done it.But I managed it.Noone saw me.I was gone.

Anyway late evening saw me finishing off a screwed up day,both domestically and
professionally.I scowled at my monitor and decided to hit the gym that I newly joined with a
vengeance(meaning run for atleast 5 mins instead of the normal 3 mins before collapsing in
front of the TV)..And just as I entered the male changing room and was unzipping my pants..too
late..damn..what was she doing here???Somelady in spandex sheepishly giggles.."Sorry..I was
late for the aerobic class..so I thought I'd use this.."and rushes off!!

Time-Sodden (Abstract)

Have you ever tried to squeeze time? No .Not in any literal or scientific sense .Not by applying relativity or modern physics. Not by working complex variables and numbers to arrive at a theoretically shortened time. But poetically. Emotionally. In a fantastic way. Take a span of time. And wring it in your mind. And just like liquid drips out of a newly laundered cloth you will find drops of emotions dripping out of the time-fabric. Keep pulling more of these time clothes and the more your wring it, the more you can squeeze out of them.

The early school days would be a good piece of linen to demonstrate. Pull it out. Stretch it out in your mind and holding both the ends start twisting it. There. You see drops of happiness falling. The bright hues of innocence dripping down your hands. Don't you? Put in some more effort. What do we get? Gushes of curiosity. Oh yes. They are cool. Unlike when you wring the somewhat sodden and well wetted cloth of adulthood. There too you find the rivulets of curiosity. But neither are they as refreshing nor so sparkling, are they? The dyes that stain the hands when you wring the latter piece are not as bright and brilliant as those we managed to squeeze out of the earlier baby time. There are lukewarm streaks of grey and scalding blacks that snake down the wringing forearms now.

But then a portrait acquires more depth with shades of grey than when it is daubed completely with magentas and peacock greens.

What colours would we encounter when we try and clean our cottons of our future? Would it be dirty and peeling colours of our youths? Or some stoic hues of brown and grey? Or perhaps the soothing tones of contentment? How wonderful it would be if we could wring out of an aged cloth streams of refreshingly cool wisdom! Would they be stirred with the essence of pride or pungent with vanity?

And now mixing a bit of physics into this exercise! Pardon me, all you real physicists if this does not conform to your notions or laws, for I'm as ignorant of the laws of Doppler's effect as on Comte's writings. But this much I can venture. Doppler says something to the effect that with varying distances the colours vary too. And similarly, would the brightness of innocence during our childhood appear as the blackness of ignorance when viewed from adulthood? Where is fear? Which of these streaks are stained by it? The green ones must be jealousy, right? What about love? Pink? Clichés! And sloth? Are there enough colours in the palette to map all the emotions? The varying degrees? Like the mildest blues of detached curiosity fading into the colourlessness of apathy?

Sometimes it feels that the clothes cannot be dried at all. Never drained of the stains. Sodden and heavy and colourful.

Writer's block (Nonsense)

On Leaving Mumbai!

Bombay and Bangalore.Or should it be Mumbai and Bengalooru?Either way the inhabitants of the two cities dont give a hoot.Then whats the whole hue and cry about renaming the cities?Politics.Newsmaking and attention grabbing tactics.Why else would precious newpaper space and television time be occupied by such trivial matters in a time and country where terrorism,poverty and disintegration of the socio-economic fabric is getting evident by the hour?

But we are digressing.This is not some column by an erudite economist analyzing the pros and cons of the two megapolis' infrastructure or economy.This is just a couple of lines to answer the queries of various mumbaikars who ask the question "But why Bangalore man..?"

To a Mumbaikar its unthinkable that anyone would forsake this city of sins and move out to spend the rest of their lives.Even to me,a softcore south indian,who came to Mumbai on the August of 2004,the choice was not obvious.Its after a lot of deliberation that I had to take this decision.So this column is also in a way dedicated to those who have stayed in Mumbai,love the place and yet hate it.

Hasn't everyone been frightened when they first saw the rush of heads and shoulders brushing and nudging their way through at CST and ChurchGate to reach the office at peak hours?Wondering how the tapori with the red shirt,dirty blue bandanna and faded jeans always seems lounging about at the same spot whenever you see him?The rusty aarey depot that has lines and lines of coloured milks situated at odd places throughout the city?Where else would we be able to walk out into the night at 11:00 for a snack and get caught in traffic?Where else are the bikes,The babes and The bottles?JW Marriott?

All thats there in Bangalore is a bunch of youngsters with "attitude"!And M G Road and Brigade road.Two streets that do not stand an iota of chance when juxtaposed with Linking Road Bandra or Marine Drive.No doubt Mumbai beats any other city that I have seen hands down.In sheer size and variety.A polyglot of cultures.Its a riot.

To someone who wants to experience life and try everything once I would say Mumbai is his place.Let no man speak of Mumbai as the big bad city.The way it is portrayed in movies and books.I leave Mumbai not because I hate it.But because I love myself more than I love Mumbai.We are incompatible.We had a brief fling together.But we are not made for each other.