Skip to main content

A quick tale 178

One evening, around 6 pm

It’s her height that grabs your attention. Else, how would you notice her among the crowd waiting to cross the road? The traffic light in front of you turns red and you smooth to a halt. She steps on to the road from the pavement. Her posture is erect, just like you remember it. When she looks in your direction to check for oncoming traffic, you see the same severe expression on her face that you recall from all those PE lessons, way back in high school. What a terror she used to be back then. Making you run laps around the track while she stood in the middle sipping coffee. I have eyes in the back of my head, she would threaten. And you sincerely believed it. She is just about to take another step when a bicycle comes speeding past her. Causing her to lose composure and retreat swiftly back to the pavement. She decides to wait for a quieter moment to cross the road. The lights turn green and you gradually pull away. As you drive past her, you notice that she is shaken. Just another frail old lady waiting to cross the road. How you wish the illusion had not been shattered.

Comments

Vi said…
Frail but still determined, I hope.
Anonymous said…
A humble request.. pls remove letter 37 (to KG) from your posts.
Alien said…
Hi.. Wonderful... I loved it!!
Deepa said…
Aren't PT teachers universally hated? The only way, we'd feel sorry for them is when we see them like this, I guess. Unless ofcourse we become one (PT teacher).
Revealed said…
They *did* have eyes behind their back. *nods wisely*. I know.
this is nice blog, visit me soon
Amrita said…
your quick tales are still going strong and the flavour just as delectable.
Anonymous said…
Hi,
Someone like you might enjoy this.
http://www.esquire.com/fiction/napkin-fiction/napkinproject
Rach said…
You write amazingly well. Linked you even before I commented! Cos you're really good!
Sujeet said…
short yet wonderful.
liked it
Just Someone said…
Simply phenomenal writing. I think its the simplicity that makes it powerful.
A4ISMS said…
Where are you, Ammani? We miss you.
geetha said…
quite sometime since u have written a blog????
Oracle said…
Sometime being physically fit makes you prolong your life beyond a point where you are no longer the person you actually are!
Nilu said…
Before you moved on, the wind gently brushed her saree away showing some of her once perky breasts.

A pang of guilt rushes through, as you recall those days and remember her as the first to whom you lost your virginity to, again and again in your adoloscent fantasy world.

Even until recently, she made your lonely nights special, as you always remembered her as she was.

Now the bubble was broken. Damn ! How you wish the illusion had not been shattered.
Keshi said…
WOW good write-up!

Keshi.
AJAY said…
hi,
what a great story i love it from
www.natureglow.blogspot.com
iz said…
I had a std 3 teacher, who was nasty and scary and a big bully. She was HUGE. At least 5 ft 11 inches. Now she's bent and weak and worst of all, afraid. I know hoe you feel.

Popular posts from this blog

Guest blog by Chinna Ammani

Here’s an interesting write-up by Chinna Ammani on stereotypical portrayals in Indian adverts. The opinion expressed is strong and the language uncompromising. Read at your own peril!-a

The Aiyaiyo Syndrome

These days I do what is called as a shooting supervision. When ads are filmed (with lip sync) in Tamizh, my job is to teach models their lines and rehearse with them. Most of them are from Mumbai and are non-Tamilians. So when they have to do a line in Tamil, for example "Adanaaladan Dettol ubayogikaren" (And that's why I use Dettol) , they invariably say "Aadanaladaanu naanu Detttaalu ubayogikkareanu" (Something hideous). Their exaggerated delivery of our supposed accent is all thanks to Hindi actor Mehmood. My blood pressure rises and I yell "DO NOT DO A MEHMOOD HERE. WE DO NOT SPEAK LIKE THAT".

Though their voice is dubbed later with a Tamil voice-over, I ensure that they pronounce it the non-Mehmood way. Mehmood has done this major damage to us So…

Bio-data

Married for 31 years, 2 months and 17 days
Six cups coffee a day, brewed everyday of marriage
Three meals a day,
At least two dishes cooked, each meal-time
One snack for every Sunday
Big basket of clothes ironed every Tuesday
Average 18 items of clothing washed per day
Three children
1 miscarriage
One mother-in-law suffered
900 sq metre of floor space mopped, once a day
One caesarean endured
3 chicken poxes, 2 measles, 2 fractures, 8 diarrhoeas, depression, conjunctivitis every summer, 1 tonsilitis and countless common colds and flues
1 job held for 29 years
6 hours slept every night
Sex tolerated every 2nd week
Religious rituals everyone of them, carried out
Not one of them, believed in
Lived 52 years and some
Died exhausted

Overheard, “At least she had the satisfaction of having lived for her family”


http://jikku.blogspot.com/2005/02/quick-tale-3.html#c111042815438237631

The Saturday Poem

Found this in yesterday's paper. Again, I wish I'd written it.

-a

Now and Then

"Now that I'm fifty-seven",
My mother used to say,
"Why should I waste a minute?
Why should I waste a day

Doing the things I ought to
Simply because I should?
Now that I'm fifty-seven
I'm done with that for good."

But now and then I'd catch her
Trapped in some thankless chore
Just as she might have been at
Fifty-three or fifty-four

And I would say to her
(And I have to bite my tongue)
That if you mean to learn a skill
It's well worth starting young

And so, to make sure I'm in time
For fifty, I've begun
To do exactly as I please
Now that I'm thirty-one.

-Sophie Hannah

Lost in Post

To a little boy

It cannot be easy being you. A follow-up act to your more devilishly charming, flamboyant older brother. Before you were born, I was convinced that no child could ever take the special place your brother had come to occupy in my life. I used to argue with your father you would always be a second-born. A runner-up. A bridesmaid (or a best-man, as you turned out to be). That you could never be the prized, cherished, celebrated apple of my eye that my firstborn child was. But how easily you tore down my flimsy little conviction. The minute I saw you, I knew I was gone. What was worse, I succumbed willingly.

My fears that you would be overshadowed by your brother have proven unfounded. Over the past year, you have come into your own as a person. Your brother demands and challenges our love and attention. You, on the other hand, are much more accepting of our distractions with him. It is almost as if you understand that he is used to being the star of the show for much of his…

I ask, you write

Okay, here's the idea. I ask you a question and you write a short story explaining it. Let me give you an example.

What happened when young Padmavathi was drawing water from the well to wash her clothes, early one Margazhi morning?

Annon's story

One morning when Padmavathi was drawing water from the well, she found Pettai Rowdy # 1 Govindarajulu inside the bucket! She dropped it at once and Govindarajulu went down and down and hit the bottom of the well with a Nung sound. His upper and lower teeth fused together and since then he has been fed intravenously. Pettai Rowdy # 2, Ragothaman Iyengar, who suggested this to Govindarajulu, now rules the roost.

After marrying Padmavathi, he is inviting all of you to a water drawing ceremony at the new well they dug in their house.

Jai Ragothaman Iyengar! Jai Padmavathi! Come one, Come all!

-

Here's a question for you.

What happened that made young Meenakshi change her mind about the parrot green saree she had originally chosen and go for a …

Being Bullied

It is anti-bullying week here in the UK and listening to some of the stories, I was reminded of the time when I was bullied. Unlike many of those that endured cruel taunts and jibes at schools and colleges, I was bullied at work. I was in my mid-twenties and working at what was considered a cool  TV station. I was reporting to a woman called Natasha (Nats, I hope you google your name and land on this page). For the duration that I worked there she made my life an absolute wreck.

It was pathetic to see colleagues bow and scrape to her authority. There were a few who stood their ground and memorably, one who walked away. But most of us suffered and I, in particular, was singled out for casual cruelty.

If you ask me what exactly she had done, I would be unable to point out any one incident. But there were throw away remarks intended to hurt, there would be instances of humiliation targeted at me. Sadly, back then I did not have the life experience that would have allowed me to articulat…

Memories of food - Milkmaid

There are few things that taste as good in real life as they do in nostalgia. Reminiscing about food somehow has the strange effect of cancelling out such pointless concerns as calorie counts and hygiene issues that often plague real life savouring experiences. However, there are a couple of exceptions that almost always taste as good in real life as they do when dreaming about them in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon budget presentation. One of them is masal vadai. There has never been an occasion when the experience of sinking my teeth into one has been anything other than exceptionally joyous. The second exception to this rule is condensed milk. Or to give it its brand-turned-generic name – Milkmaid.

Growing up, we rarely had any tinned food. Milkmaid was perhaps the only ingredient that came in a tin. And the opening of one such tin was a ceremony deserving of its own Olympics. First, there would be a crowbar with large piece of smooth stone on one end and a stubborn tin on the …

Clerihew - A Competition

A Clerihew is a whimsical biographical 4-line poem. Its rhyme structure is AABB and is often quite contrived. Like this one made up by the eponymous Mr Clerihew Himself.



Sir Christopher Wren Said, "I am going to dine with some men. If anyone calls Say I am designing St. Paul's."
And here's one I made up earlier.

If Anna Hazare were a cook Who wrote a recipe book, It would be empty for pages And suggest you fast for ages.

So that's your challenge. Come up with a Clerihew about anyone you please. And post your entry in the comment box. I'll give it a couple of weeks and then announce a winner. Off you go!

Guest Blog from Chinna Ammani

It's awards time and after extensive consultation with the industry experts, beloved Chinna Ammani and her jury of one (including herself) has come up with the first ever blog awards for the Tamil TV industry. A word of caution, if you don't watch Tamil TV, skip this one. But if you do, behold! Here come the Ammies!!



Best actors: Vijai Aadiraj and Chetan for their excessive over acting.

Best actresses: Devayani, Suganya and the Sati Savithris of Indiya Tollaikaatchi

Best dressed award:
1. All the வில்லிs with a thilagam as tall as LIC (not Narasimhan, the building) and ஜகஜக பட்டுப் புடவை walking down in பயங்கர வெயில் in their பங்களா lawn (only lawn because shooting INSIDE பங்களா is expensive, you see)
2. All lawyers perpetually in black coats and white collars. Even while at home. Even if you woke them up at midnight!

Best நானும் இருக்கேன், நானும் இருக்கேன் industry-இல் award : LIC Narasimhan

Best dialogue - jointly awarded to "சிறுக்க்க்க்க்க்க்க்க்க்க்க்க்க்கீஈஈஇ..." and …

Memories of food - Milk Biscuits

(image courtesy - www.adelanwar.com)
I am ten years old and being sent away to spend my summer holidays with an aunt in Bombay. Somewhere in my luggage are 5 or 6 packets of Britania Milk Biscuits. My aunt has specifically requested for them. Milk Bikis are not yet available in Bombay and somehow Parle G is not quite the same. It's a long train journey and it takes all my will power to keep from me raiding the bag. But by the time we reach Pune, I can no longer resist the call of Milk Bikis. To hell with it, I think to myself, I'll just tell her the railway rats got it. I grab the bag I know contains the packets and plunge my hand into it. But inside I find a smaller cloth bag. And this one has its mouth sewn shut. The witch! I dare not rip the bag open because that would be a step too far. Instead I sulk to a corner seat and hope that I will at least get some crumbs. It's been two days since we arrived. The biscuits have disappeared into the kitchen. But I have a good ide…