My Pot of Avial

Trrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring , rang the bell signalling the beginning of 40 days of “no- gyaan ”. The adults preferred to call it - Summer Vacations. Rakesh and Dino, my partners in juvenile crime and my best buds in Class 2B were going to be spending their vacation watching the mercury go up in the hottest time of the season in Kuwait, but I was headed to tropical nirvana. Not to the land of the Salsa but to the kingdom of Toddy - Kerala , the land of my forefathers. A good section of the contributors to my gene pool still lived there, headed by the patriarch of the family, my grandpa - Appachan . “ Lijuuuuuuuuuu , leave that car in your room or you’re not getting on the flight” was Amma ’s prompt reply albeit the flared nostrils when I asked her if my “domestic” partner could hop on the flight with us. It was heart-wrenching. Tell her to leave Appa behind for this trip and she’d know how I felt. We shared an emotional moment nevertheless and I reported to the living room for final roll...

The title of this post might suggest a lot of things, but this wasn’t quipped by your truly. It’s a Picasso quote. I have my own version of it though. “Bad Artists Copy, Good Ones Steal and the Creatives Ones pave the way for the Bad and the Good ones“. It isn’t the most moral thought but isn’t this what the world is made up of??? What got me to ramble about it on here was the recent Chetan - 3 Idiots standoff. What surprised me about the incident was its uncanny resemblance to the kitty fights between my old nieghbors Usha aunty and Valsa aunty. Let me explain - Usha aunty was godsend to our culinary cravings and also the only reason why Uncle Boban, her husband had the roundest most largest potbelly in the world. She made the best Fish Moilee in the world; one so good that I would shamelessly lick off the last drop of it from my plate. She was the nicest lady in the world ( I hope amma isn’t reading this). Ok, lets settle for the second most nicest lady in the world. Introducing ...

The first time I laid my eyes on a Steve Jobs creation for real, was when I was too poor to afford one. 85k rupees for the device of my choice was plain financial suicide. I simply could not afford it. Thanks to a confirmed seat on a Hartford bound KLM flight and an assignment with a US biggie, I now own a harem of Applicious hotties. What you don’t realise when you’re embraced into the Steve Jobs khaandan is that you slowly develop a liking (in the most heterosexual way) for this chap who looks like he was born in those clothes. I was a light year away when the first gen IPhone was launched, but ever since then I always followed those purple lighted events which sent geeks all over the universe into an orgasmic frenzy. Yesterday, I waited for their supposedly “iSlate” announcement like my non-existent spouse was in the delivery room. Boom, and it shalt be called the iPad. An iPhone on steroids???? You must be kidding me. A ton of reports over news channels shared my emotions too. On...