On a side note...

Kudos to Chris Harris on Arsenal.com for beginning his article with...

Mikael Silvestre reported no ill-effects after making his first appearance in an Arsenal shirt on Monday night.

Yeah, then again he couldn't have added that the Arsenal medical staff had called in the Exorcist just in case the ex-ManU scumbag had some sort of reaction. Chris, you dog! Hahahaaahahahha!

Out of sight...but not out of mind

Its been a long time since I've said anything on this blog. Okay! Okay! So, there was the Ice Age which set in on Sept 11, 2006 and went on till I popped the blog into the microwave and hit the defrost button...but even still...

I have been thinking about this blog. But as with the way things are, one must move on when the time is right. I now work and blog here. If I had to draw a parallel with my life, I guess I should begin with my new job. After spending all my life in sleepy, old Calcutta the time has come for me to move on. Never in a hundred years did I think I'd go to Mumbai but well...life has a few surprises in store for all of us.

Well, the move is not yet set in stone but in all probability it will happen. Its just that I need to iron out a few things before I can flash the green signal. Accommodation and the general cost of living are the biggest hurdles in Mumbai. Everyone goes on and on about it. I've had a whole bunch of fancy figures thrown at me, and its quite funny to be honest! If you live in some place like Dadar, you'd have to shell out 25k for a 1BHK. However, if you're looking for a similar space in a lesser known, hazard ridden (spelt flooding) locality, its going to cost you 15k. Again, the weird thing is that accommodation is not hard to find in Mumbai if you're willing to pay. So, the question is...if accommodation is so easy to find...why are they wanting to cut your fingers off in return? *Bleh!* Must be something my sleep deprived brain cannot comprehend at 1:45am. But, nevertheless, BLEH!

Personally speaking, I detested Mumbai the one time I was there because of one really messed up taxi ride. I started the ride as a small boy and got off the taxi with hair on my chest. In other words, I'm not big on commuting. I usually get cranky. Real cranky. But this just one of those things that you swallow for the sake of the bigger picture.

However, I guess if we never try we'll never find out. My plans somewhat hinge on Kong's decision -- partly, in terms of finances but, more importantly, in terms of setting up shop. I don't think establishing a web empire is a one man job, especially not when you consider the fact that I'm not from Mumbai. Don't you just hate it when none of the parameters are in your hands? Well, I do! Lemme see how it goes.

I suddenly realise that this post is totally out of character for my blog. My apologies if I've freaked any of you out. :P Normal service will resume soon. :) In the meanwhile, you can read my nonsensical, fritter fratter in the Team Blog section of Your Story. Comments are welcome. :)

The little green man from The Flintstones...

Introducing
(or reintroducing for those of you who have seen him before)...*drum roll*

The Great Gazoo
Sometimes found on the Controller's shoulder




Well there...he does exist! Helmet and all! :P Now try your hand at The Great Gazoo Game...but before that here is the *Guffaw of the day*...

Our interest in ancient Brazilian Mineiro has apparently diminished. He played that friendly at the training ground, then did a couple of days training but now is nowhere to be seen. This could be because he's going to join up with fellow Brazilian Scolari at Chelsea or it might be that he's gone back to his house in Berlin to pick up his collection of Beverly Hills 90210 videotapes. He is a big fan of the show and models his life on Luke Whatsiface, scoring chicks all over the place and simply not caring if people don't understand his rebel with some kind of cause attitude. If I had to put money on it though I'd say we took him for a drive, let him loose in the woods and took off while he was having a poo. -- The Arseblog, Pre-Pre Kiev news, Mineiro no go + Celtic Chief Exec linked

Now get on with it...

How much do you love your girlfriend?

Of Mice and Men

I have been rather preoccupied over the past week or so with some work and the odd birthday celebration. There have been new developments -- at home as well as on the footballing front...

First things first -- football. I lambasted Arsenal's performance against Fulham in my last proper post. Yes, it was a shameful display for a club with Champion's League/League Title ambitions. However, that said, we got the response we wanted from Wenger and the team. First against Shteve Mclaren's FC Twente, (4 goal romp. Thank you very much!) and then a 3-0 football exhibition against Keegan's Barcodes. 'Going Home' is not much fun when you're going empty handed with a pea-brained convict (not to mention - a twat) on your team.

The transfer window has been shut, bolted, locked, blocked by a large steel cupboard with a 16 tonne weight on top, covered with radioactive waste and guarded by an army of specially trained, cucumber-weilding grasshoppers. In other words, silly season is over -- for now. It has been a strange-ish transfer window where we lost a huge chunk of our team.

Exits
Mad Jens - VfB Stuttgart (Bosman)
Alex 'The Ice Cream Man' Hleb - Barcelona (£11.8m)
Mattheiu Flattuso - AC Milan (Bosman)
Gilberto 'Invisible Man' Silva - Panathanikos (£1m)
Justin Hoyte - Middlesborough (£3m)
Big Phil Senderos - AC Milan (1 year loan deal)
Armand 'Armed and Dangerous at White Hart Lane' Traore - Portsmouth (1 year loan deal)

Entrants
Amaury 'Crocked' Bischoff - Werder Bremen (Undisclosed)
Samir 'The New Zidane? More like the New Pires!' Nasri - L'OM (£11m)
Aaron 'Rambo' Ramsey - Cardiff (£5m)
Mikael 'Goldfish' Silvestre - Man-chester United (undisc.)

Well, it is safe to say that we're sorta light in the DM department. Nonetheless, Arsene knows! He has suggested that Eboue could fill the gap in the middle, but we're yet to see if that is the effective solution. He has now converted Eboue from a mercurial right-wing back to an ineffective right winger and now it seems that the man from the Ivory Coast will make one more transition -- the nonsense, hard man of midfield. (Hardy Har! Har! Har!)

Emmanuel Eboue exploring his softer side.

What he does provide is direct running, rolling around on the pitch, ridiculous goal celebration routines with Adebayor, and the occasional assist. More importantly, he's not a goal scoring midfielder but neither was Gilberto or Flamini to be honest. Still, I'm not sure Eboue would be as effective or as feared as Flamini in the middle. I mean, when the team is not having a good day and a Michael Jackson look-alike decides to pull out the party tricks to the chorus of 'Ole!'s, you need someone who can stamp it out...

That is a hard act to follow and I'm not sure Eboue is the man I'd pick, then again, he may not need to be that man and perhaps we'll see something different from one of the other players -- something we didn't know already.

Closer to home, namely -- Casa del Manchas, there has been a small invasion of sorts. First they were giant, flesh tearing ants (who are still around) and now it is mice. So where have they been coming from? I haven't a clue! And no, I haven't been secretly playing Jumanji.

This house has been around for over 40 years and this is the first time we've had to face something like this. So far we've discovered a large mouse trying to climb out of the dustbin, and then the mouse trap caught this little fella on Saturday night. We didn't kill either, because well, we're not into the mouse extermination business. The first bugger was tied up in two plastic bags with the trash and ingeniously left right outside my house by my wondefully, intelligent part-timer, Sushma di. (Please to note sarcasm) Within the span of 10minutes, Mouse #1 had torn both bags, spewing trash all over the gutter lane, and escaped into the darkness.

The little chap who was caught in the mouse trap was a crafty little devil who chewed away a corner to escape while we were out to dinner. Fortunately, he didn't go scampering away back into the house, as I had to come back home briefly to send a contact detail to a friend, which is when I heard him gnawing away at the wood. Since I couldn't deal with the bugger there and then, I decided to remove the trap from the house and out onto the landing outside, just in case he decided to emulate Houdini. Sure enough, when we got home we found the trap empty and no trace of Jerry Houdini but tiny shards of wood.

This morning's edition of The Grapevine claims that the mouse menace has struck both floors below our flat. One was apparently found swimming in a commode while the other was KIA. So far, our mouse trap has been baited with things like pumpkin and, more recently, something called Kerala halwa (which looks nothing like proper North-Indian halwa). However, the rodent community seems to have sent out circulars to all infiltrators to steer clear of such tasty morsels in wooden boxes.

When you have a mouse in the house you must spend some time browsing through youtube for interesting mousetrap designs...



I also came across an elaborate setup (which any self respecting mouse will probably avoid given the effort involved in getting to the bait), and as always the PETA are around to make money off you with their design which looks fucking ridiculous.

Fucking ridiculous mouse-trap design

A wise man whose face was hidden once said, "*Sheesh!*". Thank you, wise man whose face is still hidden.

I noted that this mouse infestation has coincided with the emergence of PCI 'No Parking' signs all the way down my lane and all over my area. PCI, of course, stands for Pest Control India. Conspiracy theory? I'm not going to completely discount one.

Anyway, I'm off to have some cheese before Jerry Houdini gets to it! And for all those mice reading my blog...'Mi Casa no es Tu Casa'.

Coffee with The Ba.Ba.s - Episode 1

Coffee with The Ba.Ba.s - Episode 1 from Sandeep Mancha on Vimeo.

Welcome to Coffee with the Ba.Ba.s with Sandy and Rukmini. In this episode we interview Hrileena Ghosh, a budding LE Ba.Ba.Enthusiast who joined us for two fabulous sessions last month. As always, Coffee with the Ba.Ba.s is sponsored by The Real Man's Drink at the one and only Cafe de Milano's, in association with Mrinalini's Banana. :)

Fulham 1 Arsenal 0

Dear readers,
Welcome to Football 101. Let us begin with a few choice phrases from last night game...

Arsenal fans in Manchester - "Football? Bloody hell!"

Arsenal fans in front of the TV - "Boooooooooooooooo!"

Fulham fans at Craven Cottage - "Who are ya? Who are ya?"

William Gallas, Arsenal's French Captain - "Omlette du frommage."

Manuel Almunia, Arsenal's Spanish Goalkeeper - "Hijo de puta!"

Hangeland, Fulham's Norwegian goalscorer - "Jeg elsker de, Frenchies! *muah!*

Arsene Wenger, Le Gaffer - "Thee playyers deed not show goood qwaleeti"

Roy Hodgeson, The Gaffer - "Ma lads deed me prowd!"


The game kicked off last night around 10pm IST and what a pathetic excuse for a game it turned out to be. Okay, so as most of you know I'm an Arsenal fan and that's because I love the club, the manager, and it stands for in the modern footballing world. Now normally when a Gooner walks away from a game after a loss, he carries with him a great feeling of injustice. It could be anything from poor refereeing decisions to dirty tactics by the opposition or just plain bad luck for the men in the red and white. However, on this occasion, this fan is not afraid to come out and say that we were shit! Pure and utter shit! Unadulterated, stinky, putrid, runny, multicoloured shit!

Researchers at the University of Llanddewi Brefi recently concluded an experiment using a bunch of baboons pumped full of laxatives, doused in itching powder and then introduced onto a giant waterbed with a football thrown in. While the results were not pretty, the animals recorded a pass completion rate comparable to Arsenal's last night. It is clear that our midfielders were the crux of our problems yesterday. The only one who had a decent-ish game was our young signing Samir 'I'm not the New Zidane! Oh yes, you are!' Nasri which basically tells the story. The whole midfield looked as though they expected a moment of brilliance from the former Marseille mani, which was asking too much of a 21year old playing in only his second Premier League game. Bleeaarrrgggghhh!

The goal we conceded came predictably from a set play. Bobby Zamora received the ball in the box and with a quick turn managed to scoot ahead of his marker, Kolo Toure. Recognising the danger in on goal, Toure was forced to hit the Nitro as he thundered ahead of Zamora with 'big explosive power', impressively hacking the ball out of play before the striker could let off a shot. The resulting corner saw the ball whipped into the 6 yard area to meet the boot of the big, lumbering Norwegian Hangeland who cannoned the ball between the clueless Almunia and Clichy.

Fulham V Arsnal

The commentator goes on about Gallas' marking, which I have to agree with having watched the replay now. However, the commentator gives a clean chit to Almunia, who they say was blocked off by the Fulham player. What a load of bollocks! Almunia is, perhaps, one of the least assertive goalkeepers playing at the highest level in football -- that is the problem. I can't imagine any one like Oliver Kahn, Mad Jens, Schmeichel, Van Der Sar, Petr Cech, Iker Casillas, or even someone as error prone as Fabian Barthez not coming out to meet the cross. Maybe there was something in the pre-match kissing ritual. Then again, even if Almunia did shave his head who would step forward to kiss it before each game? Hmmm...I don't think any of the older squad members would be too keen so I'm guessing it has to be one of the new entrants. I dare say it would have to be the man of experience - Mickaël Silvestre, the man who has seen it all during the reign of Blanc and Barthez.

On the other hand, sometimes I wonder if Manuel Almunia is our former JUDE goalkeeper in disguise? Wouldn't that be cool? Okay, they don't look much alike but there is nothing modern plastic surgery cannot fix. Picture this...by day he is plain old Prabuddha but by kickoff he is playing for one of the European Super Clubs and his hair has been dyed a ridiculous peroxide blonde. The possibilities are endless.

Anyway, having splashed most of the page with football fritter fratter I think its time we moved on to the other irrelevant things I've learnt between yesterday and today. For instance, did you know that the Japanese obtain their beef from genetically engineered Wagyu bulls on a diet of high quality fodder and crates upon crates of beer. Yes, that's right I said beer. Moreover, they are regularly massaged with sake to prevent muscle cramps. I have decided that the day I go to Japan I will drive down to a Wagyu farm with a few hundred crates of beer and sake, gather up the farm hands and their cattle in front of the TV and watch Arsenal play. Oh yes! If Arsenal are their usual self and win the game then we'll moo till the cows come home. Then again, if they did what they did last night I shall have a grand consolatory Wagyu feast. Its a win-win situation. Any other takers?

The early blog that is still looking for the blasted worm...

Good Morning...

And what a bright and shiny morning it is, one has to admit. Perfect weather for basketball or getting out for a jog. Yes well, unfortunately I haven't been able to capitalise on this sunshine despite setting an alarm for 5:30am. See, I went to bed with every intention to get up and hit the road running but somehow I woke up a little bewildered at around 9:15am. What happened in between is a little bit of a blur. Mom says that setting alarms (yes well, there are two with a 10minute interval) is a pointless exercise because I turn them off and go back to sleep. I shall politely disagree as I have maintained a regular early morning schedule over the past 6months. However, I am also willing admit that this is not the first time I have done this, so where lies the secret you may ask? Is there a way around my gift of shuttingringingalarmclocks&goingbacktobeingdeadtotheworld. Also, as you can see my gift has the gift of thewindingappellative too although I'm not sure why I'm calling it a gift at all!

'Kukur-le goo khanu agade', as the Nepalis say, is roughly when I need to wake up. To do this I have to outfox myself for which preparations must be made the night before. This is done by strategically placing one of the two alarm clocks in a remote corner of the room and usually hidden. Here is how the system works -- Alarm Clock #1 is slipped between the pillow and pillowcase under my head. This goes off first and the effort involved in finding it and fishing it out is usually enough to half wake me up. Now the tricky part is Alarm Clock #2. As the days go by, my brain becomes adept at propping me up in a zombie-like fashion and making a zombie-line(which is preferable to a beeline in my case as it is a lot more squiggly and involves much groping for furniture that I might walk into with eyes shut) to where the alarm clock is kept. Mom, who is the only beneficiary of my elaborate alarm clock set-up, says I can switch it off with my eyes shut. Perhaps I should mention that Alarm Clock #2 is a little bit of a gizmo and shutting it takes some doing. Oh, but don't be fooled, she does not mean this as a compliment by any stretch of the imagination. For instance, it would be rather hard to dream of her at a party where everyone was big-upping their kids and her bringing it up...

Lady #1: My son is a fantastic pianist. He will be going to Vienna next month to work with Beethoven himself!

Lady #2: That may all be well, but my daughter paints beautifully. We will be going to the Sistine Chapel next month to see her latest masterpiece which, might I add, is right next to Michelangelo's God Creates Adam.

Mom : Tsk! Tsk! Simpletons! My son has accomplished things that your children can only dream of. He was born with the gift of shuttingringingalarmclocks&goingbacktobeingdeadtotheworld. Oh, but that is not all, he can turn 'em off with his eyes shut! *smirk*

*sounds of smashing cutlery followed by looks of shock and horror all round*

In the words of KKK, 'Not happening!'.

The road to salvation is a difficult and complicated one which involves hiding Alarm Clock #2 in thatplaceyou'dneverthinkofat5:30am. Unfortunately by day 3, Alarm Clock #2 is now in thatplaceyouthoughtyou'dneverthinkofat5:30ambutaremagnetticallydrawntosinazombieline. As you can see, the latter puts 'shuttingringingalarmclocks&goingbacktobeingdeadtotheworld' to shame not to mention Blogger itself (which explains why I had to go with the ultra small font size. Pfft!).

So the quest for new hiding places is a long and never ending one. There is of course, the other option -- not to mention, a more effective option -- but that involves the participation of The Elusive Begum Rukmini of Monohar Pukur Road, the co-founding member of The LE Ba.Ba. Players. However, despite sharing the curse(no, I would not call this a gift) of the expanding waistline, our joint early morning fitness regime has been hit by bad weather, annexation of the basketball court by the blasted Phys.Ed. dept, variable x** and waning levels of enthusiasm or general laziness (whichever decided to raise its big, fat head that day). Nevertheless, we have managed a session or two a week for the past two weeks but that is nothing compared to the 6 day regime of days gone by. Perhaps this is just a sticky patch one must get through and we’ll go back to our old schedule soon. If that happens then be afwraid, be wewy afwraid. Step aside for the new and improved Sand.Man and rukmini 2.0 - Now faster, stronger, leaner and badder than ever before! So here I sign off from a rather long blog that had originally been 'The early blog...' but will now have to make to with being the 'Noon blog'. Perhaps it could use an alarm clock or two. :P
Later.

** variable x could be anything from random quiz competions to early morning classes/tests to bandhs.

And it begins...

Yes. Its been a long time. A very long time. Almost two years, in fact. Why? Well, I'm not sure to be honest. At times there are things to be said and usually at those times you'd rather say them in person. But here I am after a long time, speaking to you -- to those of who might want to tune back in, those of you who walked out of the last performance before the curtains went down, those of you who were busy making out in front of the computer and accidentally clicked off to another page, those of you who refused to drop money into the hat after watching the whole show, those of you who bent over and picked money out of the hat after watching the whole show... Well, you get my drift. :)

This blog goes back a long way. I started this blog when I was in my undergrad years and it was one of the first few blogs that sprung up amongst the people of my department. While the rest of the JUDEan bloggers went into a blogging frenzy I couldn't quite understand what all the fuss was about. In fact, it got to a point where we managed to lose our classmate to her blog. Yes, blog updates became the most important thing in her life -- more important than classes, college, friends and general socialising in the flesh. Well, perhaps it filled some sort of void in her life that some of us never understood, but thankfully, she is now a semi-retired blogger and has moved on to bigger and better things -- like a Phd abroad. Nonetheless, I have to admit her blog was quite entertaining at times, moreover, there were some other very good blogs in JUDE and I'm sure there will be more added to the pantheon of JUDEan blogs.

So what will this blog be about? Why Ants Marching? Are you going to flood the world with football? Why use a picture of Kikuchiyo? Will there be a hat to pick money from?

Well, let me tackles those questions one at a time. Firstly, I don't quite know. I guess I will go with the flow. Secondly, because the song has relevence within the society I live in and I guess it urges people like you to step outside your lifestyle and think about the things that are really important. Thirdly, yes and no. Hehe! Fourthly, its more Kurosawa's Mifune characters than Kikuchiyo. And lastly, yes. If you can find it. Muse upon it, I will be back. I'm hoping. ;-)

Until later then.

My Blog!

Er...I'm rich.

This arrived in the mail this morning. I'm sure you've found something like this in your inbox at some point of time. I have to admit it is quite funny. Take a look...and I tell you what...it gets funnier!

From: INTERNATIONAL PRIZE/AWARD

To: sandeep.mancha@gmail.com

Date: 21-May-2006 19:48

Subject: From (Mrs. Church Galloway.) 2nd Category Winner

INTERNATIONAL PRIZE/AWARD DEPARTMENT
DAYZERS LOTTERY AWARD
REF: OHS/2061986708/01
BATCH: 19/018/IHV /NL

Sir/Madam
We are pleased to inform you of the result of the Lottery Winners International programs held on the
6/5/06 of May, 2006..
Your e-mail address attached toticket number 0577465846629 with serial number 3732-8 drew lucky
numbers 04-89-12-75-36 which consequently won in the 2nd category, you have therefore been
approved for a lump sum pay out of Euros 500,000.00 (Five Hundred Thousand Euros).

CONGRATULATIONS!
Due to mix up of some numbers and names, we ask that you keep your winning information confidential
until your claims has been processed and your money Remitted to you and this is part of our security
protocol to avoid double claiming and unwarranted abuse of this program by some participants. All
participants were selected through a computer ballot system drawn from over 70,000 company and
50,000,000 individual email addresses and names from all over the world. This promotional program takes
place every five year. We hope with part of your winning you will take part in our next five years of 50
million United States Dollars International lottery.
To file for your claim, please contact our Fiducial Agent:

DAYZERS TRUST AGENCY
Name: MR.FERNANDO SMITH
Email:dayzersagency205@netscape.net
Tel: 0031-620-912-112
Fax:0031-847-536-829
web-site www.dayzers.nl

Our fiducial agent will immediately commence the process to facilitate the release of your funds as soon
as you contact him.This promotion was organised by some eminent personalities from all over the world to
promote software companies and it takes place annually.Please remember that all winning must be
processed not later than 7th of June 2006 or when authentic proof is given for the delay of filing your
winning claim.
To avoid unnecessary delays and complications, please quote your full names,your country, your private
Telephone and fax number, your reference/batch numbers etc in any correspondences with us or our
designated agent.
Congratulations once more from all members and staffs of this programand also thank you for being part
of our promotional lottery program.Note: Anybody under the age of 18 is automatically disqualified.

Sincerely Yours,
Mrs. Church Galloway.
Lottery Co-ordinator .


Warning!!!: Fraudulent emails are circulating that appear to be using Dayzers Lottery addresses, but are
not from The Dayzers Lottery.PLEASE REPORT IMMEDIATELY TO: OUR HEAD OFFICE
DEPT:dayzersagency205@yahoo.com © 2006 NL Dayzers Lottery. All rights reserved.

So I mail back informing them that I recieved this email. I left my mobile number in there just to make things a little more interesting. I left it to them to either accept my mail as reporting 'Fraudulent emails'...or as some moron who things he's rich!

I just got off the phone 10 minutes ago...it was long distance...the man said he was calling from the Netherlands. He told me I've been mailed the forms etc and I'm supposed to follow instructions they've provided in the email. Thats what I could make out through the heavy accent. Whether it is the Netherlands or some other country I do not know. All I know is that it was an international number because my phone couldn't trace the number.

I went online and did some research...and I found these pages...

http://www.lindqvist.com/iscams/index.php?ID=2112

http://www.hoax.cz/cze/index.php?action=hoax_detail&id=509

After which I check my mail to find this...

dayzersagency205@netscape.net

to me

More options

17:35(3 hours ago)

DAYZERS LOTTERY AGENCY
OUR REF: 05/AMSTEL003164/EU
YOUR REF:477505NL EU/EMAIL505/EU05.
Tel:0031-620-912-112
Fax:0031-847-536-829


Attn:Sandeep Philipose Mancha,


Congratulations!!

For being one of our dayzers lottery programs winners. Attached is a note that explains the requirements and procedure for your winning claims and an application form to be filled. signed and returned to us by e-mail or fax. You are expected to called us between 9am-7 pm monday to friday and saturday 9am to 2 pm.

Thank you.

Regards,
Management,
Mr.Fernando Smith
Claim Processing Officer.

...And here are a couple of screen shots of the documents they have sent...lol!

The Notification

The Form

Thank you Mr.Strange Dutchperson who blew up his money on calling a poor man living in a Calcutta. Unfortunately, I won't be sending you 720 Euros. Call me.

David Grohl's Evil Dead Tribute

Fort Minor - Kenji

My father came from Japan in 1905
He was 15 when he immigrated from Japan
He worked until he was able to buy - to actually build a store

Let me tell you the story in the form of a dream,
I don't know why I have to tell it but I know what it means,
Close your eyes, just picture the scene,
As I paint it for you, it was World War II,
When this man named Kenji woke up,
Ken was not a soldier,
He was just a man with a family who owned a store in LA,
That day, he crawled out of bed like he always did,
Bacon and eggs with wife and kids,
He lived on the second floor of a little store he ran,
He moved to LA from Japan,
They called him 'Immigrant,'
In Japanese, he'd say he was called "Issei,"
That meant 'First Generation In The United States,'
When everyone was afraid of the Germans, afraid of the Japs,
But most of all afraid of a homeland attack,
And that morning when Ken went out on the doormat,
His world went black 'cause,
Right there; front page news,
Three weeks before 1942,
"Pearl Harbour's Been Bombed And The Japs Are Comin',"
Pictures of soldiers dyin' and runnin',
Ken knew what it would lead to,
Just like he guessed, the President said,
"The evil Japanese in our home country will be locked away,"
They gave Ken, a couple of days,
To get his whole life packed in two bags,

Just two bags, couldn't even pack his clothes,
Some folks didn't even have a suitcase, to pack anything in,
So two trash bags is all they gave them,
When the kids asked mom "Where are we goin'?"
Nobody even knew what to say to them,
Ken didn't wanna lie, he said "The US is lookin' for spies,
So we have to live in a place called Manzanar,
Where a lot of Japanese people are,"
Stop it don't look at the gunmen,
You don't wanna get the soldiers wonderin',
If you gonna run or not,
'Cause if you run then you might get shot,
Other than that try not to think about it,
Try not to worry 'bout it; bein' so crowded,
Someday we'll get out, someday, someday.

As soon as war broke out
The F.B.I. came and they just come to the house and
"You have to come"
"All the Japanese have to go"
They took Mr. Ni
People didn't understand
Why did they have to take him?
Because he's an innocent laborer

So now they're in a town with soldiers surroundin' them,
Every day, every night look down at them,
From watch towers up on the wall,
Ken couldn't really hate them at all;
They were just doin' their job and,
He wasn't gonna make any problems,
He had a little garden with vegetables and fruits that,
He gave to the troops in a basket his wife made,
But in the back of his mind, he wanted his families life saved,
Prisoners of war in their own damn country,
What for?
Time passed in the prison town,
He wanted them to live it down when they were free,
The only way out was joinin' the army,
And supposedly, some men went out for the army, signed on,
And ended up flyin' to Japan with a bomb,
That 15 kilotonne blast, put an end to the war pretty fast,
Two cities were blown to bits; the end of the war came quick,
Ken got out, big hopes of a normal life, with his kids and his wife,
But, when they got back to their home,
What they saw made them feel so alone,
These people had trashed every room,
Smashed in the windows and bashed in the doors,
Written on the walls and the floor,
"Japs not welcome anymore."
And Kenji dropped both of his bags at his sides and just stood outside,
He, looked at his wife without words to say,
She looked back at him wiping tears away,
And, said "Someday we'll be okay, someday,"
Now the names have been changed, but the story's true,
My family was locked up back in '42,
My family was there it was dark and damp,
And they called it an internment camp

When we first got back from camp... uhh
It was... pretty... pretty bad

I, I remember my husband said
"Are we gonna stay 'til last?"
Then my husband died before they close the camp.

Demon Vs. Heartbreaker - You are my High

Young Frankenstein Reincarnated

It was just that the time was wrong

A lovestruck romeo sings a streetsus serenade
Laying everybody low with me a lovesong that he made
Finds a convenient streetlight steps out of the shade
Says something like you and me babe how about it ?

Juliet says hey it’s romeo you nearly gimme a heart attack
He’s underneath the window she’s singing hey la my boyfriend’s back
You shouldn’t come around here singing up at people like that
Anyway what you gonna do about it ?

Juliet the dice were loaded from the start
And I bet and you exploded in my heart
And I forget the movie song
When you wanna realise it was just that the time was wrong juliet ?

Come up on differents streets they both were streets of shame
Both dirty both mean yes and the dream was just the same
And I dreamed your dream for you and your dream is real
How can you look at me as if I was just another one of your deals ?

Where you can fall for chains of silver you can fall for chains of gold
You can fall for pretty strangers and the promises they hold
You promised me everything you promised me think and thin
Now you just says oh romeo yeah you know I used to have a scene with him

Juliet when we made love you used to cry
You said I love you like the stars above I’ll love you till I die
There’s a place for us you know the movie song
When you gonna realise it was just that the time was wrong juliet ?

I can’t do the talk like they talk on tv
And I can’t do a love song like the way it’s meant to be
I can’t do everything but I’d do anything for you
I can’t do anything except be in love with you


And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be
All do is keep the beat and bad company
All I do is kiss you through the bars of a rhyme
Julie I’d do the stars with you any time

Juliet when we made love you used to cry
You said I love you like the stars above I’ll love you till I die
There’s a place for us you know the movie song
When you gonna realise it was just that the time was wrong juliet ?

A lovestruck romeo sings a streetsus serenade
Laying everybody low with me a lovesong that he made
Finds a convenient streetlight steps out of the shade
Says something like you and me babe how about it ?

Little Britain?!?!

'That one!'
'That one!'
THAT ONE!'



'That one!'

'But you like Chelski!'
'Yeah I know.'

'T-H-A-T ONE!'



'The Special One?'
'Don't like it.'

Cross-eyed Mary

Who would be a poor man, a beggarman, a thief --
if he had a rich man in his hand.
And who would steal the candy
from a laughing baby's mouth
if he could take it from the money man.
Cross-eyed Mary goes jumping in again.
She signs no contract
but she always plays the game.
Dines in Hampstead village
on expense accounted gruel,
and the jack-knife barber drops her off at school.
Laughing in the playground -- gets no kicks from little boys:
would rather make it with a letching grey.
Or maybe her attention is drawn by Aqualung,
who watches through the railings as they play.
Cross-eyed Mary finds it hard to get along.
She's a poor man's rich girl
and she'll do it for a song.
She's a rich man stealer
but her favour's good and strong:
She's the Robin Hood of Highgate
helps the poor man get along.

Forza Arsenal

A Tale of a Towel

Hello! I’m Dry-you-up-in-a-jiffy and welcome to my autobiography. This, as you will find out, isn’t the autobiography of any ordinary bath towel. Speaking of the word ordinary just incase you are drooling with anticipation of magic wands, mythical creatures, geriatric wizards and the answer to that all important question – ‘Does Hogwarts supply their students with toilet paper?’ - You would be on the wrong track. No, I do not promise you those answers, however I do present before you a snippet of time that is the highlight of my career as a bath towel.

I was manufactured in the UK, using the finest Raw Indian Cotton. As per tradition I was tagged, packaged and then exported to Calcutta as the finished product to be sold at a profit. My long journey culminated in bliss when I found myself wrapped around the waist of my beloved master Tea-Pot-Tummy. That is when I knew this was a special relationship.

Life had become a well-balanced cycle of drying the master and haggling with the day’s wash for adequate clothesline space while the Sun still shone. Occasionally I’d listen to our neighbours loudly conducting Latin classes. After a couple of years I’ve managed to learn a few things including ‘Estne volumen in toga, an solum tibi libet me videre?’ which means ‘Is that a scroll in your toga, or are you just happy to see me?’ and also ‘Macdonaldus Senex fundum habuit. E-I-E-I-O. Et in hot fundo nonnullas boves domesticas habuitt. E-I-E-O. Cum moo moo hic, et cum moo moo ibi. Hic una moo, ibi una moo, ubique una moo moo. Macdonaldus Senex fundum habuit. E-I-E-I-O’. I’m guessing you know the nursery rhyme. However, I would’ve never guessed things were about to change.

Come spring 2004 and Tea-Pot-Tummy decided to accompany his college friends Gorilla Man, Podo Mach, Pharmacist and Possessed Locks for some fest in Bangalore. I overheard it was being hosted by the IIM and that the prize money was summing up to 2 lakhs! I was petrified. Do you know how many towels can be bought with that amount? This was terrible. I’d have to share him with someone new. Or worse, I could be replaced never to touch his sizzling belly again! Some of you might disagree here but a belly is answer to every towel’s unraveling nightmare.

Now it is a well-known fact that all towels are claustrophobic, however I’m an exception. I never complained even when I was crammed into the bag along with the rest of Tea-Pot-Tummy’s stuff. With the gentle rocking of the bag I presumed we were on our way. The journey to Bangalore was rather eventless. I spent my time either snoozing or getting to know Tea-Pot-Tummy’s new Jockey underwear. He’s a fine chap that Jock and was a definite improvement over that nasty piece of work – the VIP Brat. ‘Jockey or nothing’ was apparently his motto. So I suggested he change it to something more fun. Perhaps ‘Semper ubi ubi in caput tuum’ or ‘Always were underwear on your head’. He didn’t seem amused.

When the bag was finally opened I could see the love and affection shining in the master’s eyes. He grabbed me and flew into the bathroom to relieve himself after his feat of sheer determination over the past two days. I later learnt that we were staying with Tea-Pot-Tummy’s school friend Naryal. No one seemed to notice that Possessed Locks was missing. Maybe she fell off along the way but I guess then again these things do happen.
In Naryal’s house I got to know Gorilla Man’s towel. He had a rather interesting name - Burn-All-Bloody-Ass-Wipers! Methinks he’d change his mind if I introduced him to Tea-Pot-Tummy’s bottom! At times he was rather abusive, pessimistic and perhaps suicidal as well. I think all this negativity was the result of him having to wipe Gorilla Man’s hairy body dry right after staying cooped up in a suitcase for 2 days. Honestly, who wouldn’t be cranky?

Burn-All-Bloody-Ass-Wipers started telling me some of his horror stories. All his stories centered around shedding of excessive body hair. Apparently he was the victim of Gorilla Man’s body hair loss. Arrgh!! Little did I know of what was in store for me.

Hanging on that line I realized that I didn’t even know the Bangalore Towel dialect. That cute pink hand towel hanging opposite me had been fluttering at me for a while now and I didn’t know what to say next. Just my luck! I tried to impress her with some Latin. ‘Caterva carissima mea est Cimictus’ – ‘My favorite group is the Beatles’. Maybe she wasn’t a fan. Eventually we were dry. But then my heart cracked into a million pieces as Naryal’s cockeyed servant threw my abusive friend onto my pink fantasy! All I could hear now were torturous words like ‘Oooh I feel your softness brush against me…your sweet fragrance dilutes my acquired manly odour. Damn horny towel let go of her! You’re shedding all that fur all over her!’ As fate would have it Gorilla Man left behind his towel in Naryal’s house as we proceeded to IIM to meet up with the others.

That evening we learnt that Podo Mach and Pharmacist had managed to acquire a set of twins and another girl as their dates. I wasn’t as surprised as the others as I knew that the Pharmacist had a tablet for any eventuality. They remained occupied in a their fivesome over the next few days, occasionally spilling over into the nights and we didn’t see much of them. Pharmacist however thought he should leave something for us to remember him by. So he took his shoes off and grinned as we held our breath. Even with his shoes locked in a cupboard outside the stench somehow found a way out. That cupboard was now a mini World War II Gas chamber. Its potency was so great that the neighbouring IIMBian hurriedly emptied the opposite room, complete with his bag and baggage.

I somehow survived that smelly ordeal only to find myself conveniently borrowed by Gorilla Man the next morning. Those horrific images described by Burn-All-Bloody-Ass-Wipers began to take their ghastly form before me. I was now officially in hell. 3 days in a row I did overtime. Drying man and bear each day drained the last bit of energy out of each and every thread. I was driven to the edge Gorilla Man must pay for this blatant towel abuse! I made up my mind to unwind from his waist the minute he stepped out of the loo in full public view. Is my plan brilliant or what? Muhuhahahahhaahaha!! Come to think of it - I’m slowly losing it. Now I sympathize with Burn-All-Bloody-Ass-Wipers.

My master plan was unfortunately interrupted when some smelly kid (not as smelly as Pharmacist’s shoes…they are a class apart) walked into the room and picked me up one day while everyone had gone off. I got the feeling that I was being stolen. I must admit it was a thrilling experience and I did my best to conceal my excitement. In retrospect I think I should’ve tried to trip him or something. At the moment I find myself on sale in a shop in Burma Bazaar next to Majestic bus stand. Ironically enough I’m currently watching Tea-Pot-Tummy and his friends walk straight past this shop on their way to the station. Not once did they look my way and I must admit I’m a little hurt.
I’m doomed to wipe charcoal-black South Indian asses in the twilight of my life. I always knew this towel business is unforgiving. Tea-Pot-Tummy is now far far away and I guess all good things must come to an end. Seriously, jokes apart, I must admit that he was the highlight of my towel career. What’s ahead you ask? I now plan to pick up the local towel dialect. Who knows? Maybe pink hand towel and I are destined to meet again! ‘Sit vis nobiscum’ (May the force be with you).