Thank you all for voting. Since there haven't been that many votes polled, it should be easier to see which stories were popular. I'll leave it to you to do the counting.
Now the next question to which you write a story in explanation.
What happened last Tuesday when Rajamanickam had gone to the bank to deposit a cheque?
Again, please post your stories in the comment box and please keep them short. Thank you.
18 comments:
Last Tuesday when Rajamanickam went to deposit the cheque, he suddenly realized when he was third from the counter that he had forgotten to wear his veshti. His white shirt was mercifully covering him. He wondered if he should run out, buy a veshti, and lose his position in the queue, or deposit the cheque, and then run out and buy the veshti. Small decisions were always difficult for Rajamickam.
Then suddenly, he noticed a veshti on a stool nearby. Muruga, he said to himself silently in joy, and quickly wrapped the veshti around himself. No one had noticed him.
The cashier had gone out for a coffee perhaps, and it was all well, it would be a longer wait. Suddenly, the cashier appeared only in his kovanam. “I put the veshti on a stool here and went off to the bathroom, and someone has stolen it” he yelled at the guard. The guard said that he was concerned with only big bank thefts and it wasn’t part of his job to look after these small veshti thefts.
Rajamanickam was in tears with unlaughed laughter. The cashier refused to work without his veshti. Rajamanickam could give the veshti back, and stand in his white shirt and deposit the check. Else, he could walk out with the veshti and come back another day to deposit the cheque. Another small decision. Small decisions were always difficult for Rajamanickam.
hilarious post annon...
Tuesday is the wrong day to go to the bank, his mother had warned him. Our branch closes on Mondays, and on Tuesdays there will be considerable rush. But Rajamanickam had had no choice. His Economics project had Wednesday as deadline and he had to submit a report on how to encash a cheque and take a DD from a bank. True he should have done it during the weekend, but with the Champion's Trophy matches in the offing, who would risk going out?
He stood in the long queue, waiting impatiently for his turn. Just as the lady ahead of him finished with her business, a young woman sporting huge sun glasses just gate-crashed in front of him in the queue. Before he could protest, the woman dropped her purse down and bent down to pick it up. I don’t know if it was the sight of the expanse between her jeans and her top, or the way she turned and smiled at him, Rajamanickam, made way for her, gulping down the heart that had jumped into his mouth.
He doesn’t exactly remember what happened next…. As she took out a grenade and pulled the pin with her teeth, Rajamanickam had the presence of mind to first run towards the exit…. Well……! His Economics project did not meet the deadline, but Boy! He got an A+ for his creative writing assignment that week!
The bank official told him, a surcharge of 2.95% of the cheque amount would be levied as service charges - if deposited at counter. He could do it for free at the ATM drop box.
Whining at the new-age private bank's good looking lady at the counter.. he came to terms with the irritating fact that his 30 minute long journey (in the town bus) to this only branch in his small town could have been a 5 minute walk to its ATM in the petrol bunk near his place along the highway.
He dreaded ATMs, it was for the next generation. Not his. It was for the start sal 20K IT kids.. not HIM. And given the frustration definitely NOT TODAY.
After another gruelling 45 minute 'standing' journey in the town bus again, - repeat 'again', he got down at the bus stop near the petrol bunk. The DAMNED ATM in the petrol bunk.
ATMs however he dreaded, it appeared funny to him the way in which the machine pops out the statement of transaction. It reminded him of his dog.. hanging its tongue out. Only thing, ATMs didnt have tails.
He walked along a long 10 feet walk from the bus stop. It had truly been a frustrating affair. He walked inside the stale smelling room of ATMs - he often wondered if ATMs actually housed uncleaned restrooms of ATM security personnel. Whether the stale smell was due to the A/C or the restroom - oops one wouldnt want to guess.
He searched eagerly for a big post box kind of box - for depositing his dropping his cheque. JOB ALMOST DONE he thought. His eyes couldnt find one. He would have almost cried - but managed to turn that into a question to the security who was almost dozing inside the room with an unloaded but threatening rifle in resting on his shoulder.
Sir.. SIR.. Where is the Drop Box here??
Reply comes - Saar.. it's not available here ...Only in the ATM at the branch.
The last words..spelled D O O M to our Rajamanickam...
As Rajamanickam stood in the line, he stole glances at the cashier Ambujam. My, her boobs were so voluptuous, her bosom so inviting! The delicate but rather erotic perfume from the jasmine in her hair wafted into the queue and enveloped the powerless Rajamanickam. Before he could help it, a tent in his veshti began prodding the customer ahead of him, Tilottaman Iyengar, who was there to encash a demand draft. Tilottaman did not take kindly to anal prodding by lowly cheque depositors and cleared his throat repeatedly to discreetly chide Rajamanickam. However, these entreaties were in vain as Rajamanickam ran across Shimla snowfields with Ambujam's aana-aavanna podavai held high a-la Cheran.
Helpless, Tilottaman Iyengar signalled with the sharp end of his his black umbrella to the bank manager Sridhar Pushpavanam, who was watching from the large glass cabin.
This Rajamanickam, thought Pushpavanam, as he took a drag on his malabar beedi, never quits. Every other day he deposits this worthless 101 rupee cheque. The next day he is back to withdraw the same. How long can this keep up ? But so long as the bank got its comission, who was he to complain ? All blame must rest with this slut Ambujam, he reasoned. Why display her goods so openly instead of keeping them tightly wrapped up under a madisaar like her neighbor Karumaari ? Ah, that Karumaari! Pushpavanam recalled the countless afternoons he had spent unwrapping Karumaari's madisaar and plunging his double-chin into her rack, feasting on her plump belly and picking the lint out of her navel to lilting giggles, followed by the inevitable hump and grind with Bambara Kannale playing in the background, while his slutty wife Ambujam deposited and withdrew that same cheque every day...
@ divine ravana
Very true. The other day when I went to the bank to enable infiniti/online access and met my private banking officer. He told I have to do it my using the Hotline phone that is kept in the ATM. Don't know whether people are becoming very lazy or un-human
Kowsalya
@ 1st ANON:
hilarious. cudnt believe of the "stool" @ first and later realized wat
"Then suddenly, he noticed a veshti on a stool nearby. Muruga, he said to himself silently in joy, and quickly wrapped the veshti around himself. No one had noticed him."
anonymous,
your story writing skills show a perverse form of cheap erotica and ammani's blog does not deserve this trash. I find it unacceptable and offensive on this blog.
What happened last Tuesday when Rajamanickam had gone to the bank to deposit a cheque?
He met a pretty girl standing in the line. He found that she was also from his company, looking at her ID card tag. Slowly he started conversing with her. Like any new people, they started talking about office, hobbies etc. The line was pretty long. By the time his turn came, he almost fainted when the girl told him she was a simbhu fan. Rajamanickam was so shocked, instead of depositing the cheque, he applied for a new chequebook.
He had no chance of knowing the fact that, the girl had said like that to avoid him
1st Annon, 2nd Attempt. As an apology for the first story, which was felt to be too Senthil-Goundamani, and too much veshti-kovanam stuff.
Mahalingam had gotten tired of telling the architect that the cashier area should not be open like that. It was U shaped and people could enter from the open side. The architect was ultra-modern, as was the country manager, so a poor branch manager could do nothing.
It was last Wednesday, no, no, last Tuesday. Ragothaman Travels had sent their new boy Rajamanickam to deposit their weekly cheque. He came when Vatsala and Priya were out for lunch. As Mahalingam watched in horror, Rajamanickam entered the cashier area through the open part of the area and stood inside the U, where Vatsala and Priya sat, a bit confused at all those flashing numbers on the PC. Muttal architect, Muttal country manager, Mahalingam thought. I knew this would happen. He got up from his seat to resolve the confusion.
Just then, Rangoon Rangan also walked into the branch, and tried to hold up the cashier, not knowing that it was Rajamanickam, office boy of Ragothaman travels. Shocked that his first day was going like this, Rajamanickam handed over the check to be deposited. Rangan looked it, and yelled, “chaviya edura, madaya”, at which point, Rajamanickam, trembling, gave him the keys to his new moped.
Mahalingam managed to press the security alert button and get those fools with the .303 rifles to surround Rangan as he was trying to open the cash vault with the moped key.
2nd anonymous, 2nd attempt, To sophistify the cheap erotica.
As Rajamanickam stood in the queue with the cheque held gingerly in his left hand, peon Somu brushed past him rather hastily causing the said cheque to disengage from the grip of Rajamanickam and float away.
Rajamanickam muttered an unprintable curse and chased after the cheque after hurriedly folding his veshti at the knees so that it didn't interfere with his locomotion. The cheque floated into the Tindivanam atmosphere like the transparent garbage bag from American Beauty.
Soon he caught up with it and pounced on it just as it landed under the stiletto heels of a breathtaking beauty.
As he was wondering what to do next, the beauty reached down and picked up the punctured cheque.
Rajamanickam stood transfixed. He saw a bathtub on the Tindivanam footpath, filled with rose petals. As he watched, a beautiful, obviously naked lady, completely covered by rose petals except for her incredibly pretty face, emerged from the bathtub with a punctured State Bank Of India cheque in her hand and asked, Excuse me, is this yours ?
Rajamanickam was shaken out of his reverie. He detected a distinct St.Stephens in her tongue. The delicate green chiffon, the Burberry perfume, the tiny mookuthi stone glittering in the rays of the blistering afternoon sun. The Prada purse, the Outlook magazine, the pearl necklace.
Hello, I am Rajamanickam, he introduced himself eagerly as he extricated the cheque from her fingers.
Hi, I am Karpagavalli, she said. I am here to cover the Chennai Unconference Blogmeet for Outlook India.
Yes, yes, enthused R. Once I deposit this cheque, I will join you and we can blog together, I mean, go together to that blogmeet.
Oh, and you are from ?
I am from Time Magazine. As you know we have opened new office next to Tantex hoarding in Vyasarpadi.
Oh, that Surya hoarding with Tantex vest and Tantex brief ?
No, no, he corrected her. You are talking about the Avadi Tantex. I am talking about Vyasarpadi Tantex, that Trisha Krishnan hoarding with Tantex panty and Tantex bra.
Oh, that is Trisha Krishnan? I thought it was Namitha.
No, no, he corrected her again. It seems you are not keeping up with our South film stars. Are you from North India or what?
Actually, I am from East, she said. Proper Shillong. Theriyuma ?
His mind raced to find any non-tribal non-ULFA nugget he could reference about East India.
Ah! He finally said in relief. You have see Mani Saar's Aayutha Ezhuthu ? It is based on your Prafulla Kumar Maghanda student leader.
She smirked up her nose. Prafulla is with Asom Gana Parishad. Don't talk about him. I am with the Bodo People Progressive Front. We are like chalk and cheese.
Why don't you tell me about it as we walk to the bank ? They will close promptly at 3pm so let us make haste.
No I don't like to talk politics with journalists. Let us talk about some harmless subject like movies. What is your favorite film ? she asked.
Rajamanickam knew he was in a dicey spot. He could mouth some South Indian classic and look like a complete pattikaad. Or he could talk about that 1992 Assamese award movie he had seen on afternoon DD channel, but he was not sure he could pronounce the title correctly. What if she burst out laughing ? Rajamanickam suffered in silence and thought feverishly.
I like Henry and June - she interrupted his thoughts out of the blue.
Excellent! he said. Excellent!
How could he top that ?
Well, I like Delta of Venus, he finally said.
She looked away coyly. YES, I have hit the jackpot! - Rajamanickam was in seventh heaven. After they deposit this cheque, they will go to Parry's corner and take a taxi, supposedly for Tidal Park. But both of them knew the taxi could just as well veer off in the general direction of Le Royal Meridien.
Rajamanickam wondered if Karpagavalli wore Tantex panty as well, just like kannazhagi Trisha. In any case, his Tantex vest and Tantex brief had never let him down.
Standing in the queue with his cheque in his veshti purse secured tightly by the aranakayir, Rajamanickam reflected on how far he had come in life. This cheque, Rs. 2.5 lakhs, yes, it was no doubt the high point of his life.
The first time when he penned Vaanam Yenakoru Bodhi Maram, Vairamuthu had given him onlu hundred rupees. At that time, both were new to thirai ulagam, and neither knew whether their lyrics would ever click. Bharatiraaja had taken him aside and explained, Rajamanickam, it is but a mediocre song at best. I don't know if audience will like it or not. Nooru rubai periya thogai. Be happy.
Rajamanickam, however, was a slave to both greed and penury. His demands grew as prolific as his literary output, and when he penned Chinna Chinna Aasai, Vairamuthu was obliged to hand over a full fifty thousand and one rupees to buy his silence.
Rajamanickam's quest for fame remained a daydream. He never saw his name on celluloid, but the cheques never bounced. That secure roof over his head kept away any traces of fame that might seep into his life. Depressed and haunted by dreams of grandeur, Rajamanickam took to drink like fish to water. Everyday he would finish off 2 glasses of illicit saarayam and lie in a daze, waking up at unearthly hours of the night to pen incredible paens of pure poetry.
When he got his first heart attack, the doctor could not be more clear - Rajamanickam, a lot of fatty deposit is standing in your cartoid artery. It will not let the blood pass by.
At the song session the next day, all Rajamanickam could think of was, why me ? Who is standing in my heart chamber ? Why is my auricle blocked ? Why is my ventricle blocked ? So much so that at the paattu session, when Vairamuthu asked for the song, Rajamanickam handed over the painful Nenjankootil nee yain nirkirai ? It went on to become a super duper platinum hit, and here he was at the bank, with the 2.5 lakh cheque. Was it worth it ? Perhaps he shouldn't think so much, he could feel a mild attack coming on...
Awessome idea. Loving every story. Voting is tough, I tell ya.
The queue was long. Rajamanikam was exhausted. Mentally and Physically. Physically because he had travelled for 3 days from his village miles away to reach this "Big Bank" in XXX. By foot, bullock cart, cement lorry, town bus, and cycle rickshaw. Mentally because he was battling a million emotions at the same time. Exactly one week back, they had come. In their black coloured pleasure vandi. It was an unusual event in their sleepy drought worn village, and all the children ran behind it in excitement. Rajamanikam was chewing betel nut, while turning a deaf ear to the rumbling noises that came from Chellayi temper. He was used to it. Though she throws the empty pots and pans around, when there is not a grain in the house, she somehow manages to feed him once a day atleast. "Why dont sell this goddamn wasteland of yours and move to XXX??, why cant you be like the other men in the village?"... She will never understand. It had been his granfather's gift from the zamindar. His father tilled it till his death, and now it is his sotthu. This year it will rain, and he shall show her. He had promised mariatha that he will take the fire pot if it rains.
The men were tall. They were clean shaven and were fair skinned. Reminded him of the vellai kara durai he had seen in his childhood. One of them spoke in tamil. They were from the town. And they were building a factory. They wanted his land. Chellayi came running out. "Mariatha is great! She did not abandon us...".. Rajamanikam was scared. They offered 30,000 rupees. He was shocked to silence.. Chellayi was crying. They gave him a paper, and said it was called a cheque and if he gave it to the "Big Bank" in the town, they would give him the money. They gave him 1 week to vacate the land. Chellayi packed him a lunch, (he still didnt understand how she managed it..) and sent him off to the "Big Bank", with the cheque.
He was sweating. He went to the lady in the counter. He had come yesterday, but they said Monday was a bank holiday. He slept on the pavement outside the bank, never letting go of the "cheque". The lady took the "cheque" and the blue color chit that someone had filled up for him. She looked at the "cheque". Suddenly panicked.She asked him to stay where he was, and also called for the watch man, and made him have an eye on Rajamanikam. She went inside a room, and got many people. They questioned him .Where he was from. Who gave him the cheque... so many faces, so many questions...Rajamanikam felt his head spinning... the Police came, and made him get on to a jeep.. "Someone tell chellayi..."..
he wanted to say.. But words didnt come out..
Wednesday Morning:
The Hindu:
Police track Naxals:
XXX: Police today arrested a 58 year old man, suspected to be a naxalite. Police were tracking the dealings of an account in a bank in Switzerland,suspected to fund Naxal activities in the state. All banks had been alerted, to keep an vigilant eye out for this account number. Thanks to a shrewd bank employee, Ms.P, the police were able to arrest one Mr.Rajamanikam,in possession of a cheque drawn on the afore said account.Interrogations are going on.
P.S : Somewhat longish...May be inaccurate.. But then , its my first attempt. Nice idea of starting a story thread.. :-)
Rajamanickam was not often given anything important to do. His parents had written him off as “useless” and only suffered him to remain at home because they didn’t want to get a bad name in the town. It was his younger brother who was the apple of their parents’ eye because he was everything Raja wasn’t – good-looking, academically clever, always winning competitions and prizes and so on.
Raja, however, was a dreamer. Perhaps he was a little slow, but in his quiet way he was stubborn too. He hated school and because he kept failing, his parents had not bothered to continue his studies after Std 10. The one thing he was very good at was art – painting came to him as naturally as breathing. Once – only once – he had asked his parents if he could study art, and the resulting tirade ensured that he never brought up the subject again. His parents didn’t consider art in general and Raja’s artwork in particular – or, for that matter, Raja himself - to be worthy of notice, and they made their contempt very clear. But Raja’s secret dream still lingered…
That Tuesday, however, circumstances ensured that Raja had to deposit a cheque for Rs.1.5 lakhs in the bank. As the cheque was made out to “cash”, Raja’s mother instructed him at length on what to do at the bank, stressing the fact that if he lost it, anybody could encash it. Finally she let him go, and Raja set off.
There was a crowd outside the bank today, watching a young artist who sat there with a small open box beside him and a hand-written placard saying that he was trying to finance himself for art school. He was doing quick sketches of the people as they watched, hoping that they would buy his drawings. Unfortunately there wasn’t much money going into the little box.
Raja watched the young artist for a long time. Then he quietly placed the cheque in the artist’s box and turned back for home. He himself might never amount to anything, but at least that young man’s dream would come true. That satisfaction could never be taken away, no matter what his parents did when he got home…
Rajamanickam was a cautious man. Yes, I am cautious, he agreed with the narrator of this story as he felt his pocket for the cheque he had come to deposit at the bank. He had just sold his 8-year old moped and had come straight to bank with the buyer's cheque. He planned to buy himself a motorbike this time. I should be able to get a loan for the rest of the amount, he told himself as he absently ran his fingers along the contours of his shirt pocket which held the cheque. There were still two others in front of him and Rajamanickam wondered if he should ask the teller about an appointment with the loan officer. He looked at his watch though he was in no great hurry to get to the counter. He felt important carrying all the money on his person. Rajamanickam felt good. And at that precise moment, as it often happens in these sort of stories, there was a loud vroom vroom outside. A little frown of annoyance creased Rajamanickam's forehead. Idiots, he mumbled, riding around town in their bikes like they stole them. And in that instant, he knew. He turned around and started running for the door.
shyam's story is really amazing..
:)
Rajamanickam went to the bank last Tuesday to deposit a cheque. So far so good , you would say. Next the teller gave him the money , you continue. Relax dude, I interrupt , this is my story. Rajamanickam was feeling very nervous. Infact , if you looked closely, you could see beads of sweat streaming down his neck - all this duly observed by the alert teller. For your Rajamanickam , was what I call the friendly neighbourhood petty thief. And the cheque was a forged one.
The teller called the police and Rajamanickam is currently cooling his heels in prison awaiting his tryst with destiny.
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