The Larynx...

... is an interesting part of the human body. Of course, there are other parts definitely more interesting, but for the sake of this post let's examine the larynx. God, in His infinite wisdom, has varied the performance capacity  of each individual larynx. While some produce just a feeble sound at their maximum capacity,  others can literally shatter the unfortunate ear drum that gets too close. Of the above, the latter one is the topic of this post. The larynx in question belongs to a particular Russian gentleman, who sits across me in his own cubicle at my work place. Generally the cubes at work are so designed to give the worker a semblance of privacy. True, it blocks out the view since photons, you see, are honest particles and always take the straight path. But the sound waves are devious little things which can find the narrowest of crevices and move forth to assault the next available ear drum.
This particular gentleman, under discussion, has a great tendency to discuss his professional, financial and personal details on the phone at the top of his voice and that too in a deep Russian accent. The language he uses doesn't really matter. Whether his native Russian or the heavily accented English, his larynx delivers every word clear and sharp for all to hear, blissfully unaware that the noise it is generating is a cross between a whining motor vehicle on a wrong gear and a metal prong scrapped across a blackboard.
It is also unaware that the few unfortunate souls inside the affected radius are close to a nervous breakdown every time the phone rings at its masters desk or he picks it up himself and says 'HellloooWWW??' to initiate a conversation. The noise jars the brain cells of those around and temporarily causes all activities, thought processes to stop. One can see, in the eyes of each of these persons, the craving, the desire to shut this person up by any means possible. Some, who have endured longer, have a dangerously sadistic look in their eyes, that suggests something more violent and imaginative.
It is not long before somebody loses their cool. Someone has to put an end to this in a peaceful way before someone else reacts violently which might spark an international incident involving the CIA and whatever remains of the KGB.

The Tree

I read this post by Ferrari and it reminded me of something I did long long ago.
I was in high school and we lived in a place with lotsa trees around. My favorite hang out was on a stout branch of an old tamarind tree next to our house. Of course, that was not the only tree I inhabited. At this point, I know exactly what you are thinking about me. Come on guys, someone has to uphold our legacy, right? During the study holidays for the dreaded public exam, I inform my mom that I'll be up in my quarters studying. ;) I take up a few books with me. I loved to climb up on the branch leaving the cares of the world at the foot of the tree. I enjoyed the solitude at the top, the gentle rustle of the leaves, the soft chirping of the birds (who got used to me after a few days), the tangy taste of the puliyangai (tamarind) hanging from the branches at arms reach. One such day, as I perch myself on the branch and fall into a silent reverie, a katterumbu (a big black ant that lives on trees) and its girl friend walk by.They bump into me and size me up with their tiny feelers.
Intelligent she-ant: Hmmm. What do you think this is?
Dumb He-ant: huh? Is it edible.
She-ant: Its definitely not part of our tree. Its warmer...
He-ant: Can we taste it?
She-ant: Its moving too!!
He-ant: Can I take a bite? Hell I am gonna take a bite.. (crunch)
She-ant: Noooooo!!!

ME: eeeeeoooOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!!#$%^#&^#$

Wham! Splat! Die you filthy insect!... And that is the end of their sad ant-love story. Of course, I didn't know all the above background info.

Well, I've totally digressed from what I wanted to say here and whenever I digress my imagination runs wild resulting in unnecessary additional tracks about dumb ants and their intelligent girl friends.
Ok. My passion for climbing trees had made me climb many a tree, but the straight branchless coconut tree had always looked a bit more daunting for me. I used to watch the tree-climbers who use some kind of ropes and cycle tire tube combos and fashion a loop out of it and effortlessly pull themselves up the tree. After watching them for a short while, well actually for a long while, I learnt theoritically how to climb a coconut tree. I decided to apply my knowledge of tree-climbing. I selected a regular sized coconut tree. I folded an old cycle tube and put both my feet into it and stretched so that I could grip the trunk with my feet. I jumped up and hugged the tree with both hands and immediately lifted my feet, rubber tubing and all, to grip the tree. At that instant, my palms started to sweat in spite of the cool breeze. The few crows which were hanging out on a nearby tree branch took flight and started flying aroung randomly, incessantly cawing out loud. I took it in a positive sense that they were cheering me on. I lunged up and climbed a few more feet. At this point my feet started sweating. A group of squirrels, three to be exact, settled down on another tree nearby and were enjoying the show. I could almost hear them snickering and whispering among themselves "moron". So the crows aren't really cheering me on? I hugged the tree tighter, hanging on to dear life between heaven and earth. Can't go up. Can't go down. Afraid to let go of either hand or foot. More frightened that someone would come out of my house and find me in this ridiculous position. Believe me there would be no end to it. I'll be the butt of their jokes for the next 1 year atleast and it would be repeated to every relative and friend without any mercy.
Finally my feet couldn't hold on and slipped totally. The rubber tube fell to the ground. Meanwhile I was judging the right place to jump/fall (whichever happens) since the ground was pretty rough and thorny and I was barefoot. I held on to the trunk as tight as I can with my feet and tried to slide myself down. Unfortunately the blisters on the tree got me and I instinctively let go of the tree. And after a short flight I found myself sprawled on my back.
When my eyes focussed again, the crows had settled back on their branch giving me a stern look. The squireles chuckled and shook their heads, "what a loser" and went back to whatever they were doing.
I escaped with a few bruises and scratches but my pride was hurt the most. I got back on my feet, checked for major damage, and trudged back to my perch to brood about the unfortunate incident and life's unfairness in general. I realized, fortunately no one saw me and hey, I climbed half, well almost half a regular sized coconut tree.

The aliens are back!!

I tell you, The aliens are here. Right in our midst. Hiding in every conceivable machine we have. In disguise. Trying to screw us in every possible way. They reside in cell phones, computers, ATM Machines.. and yes Vending Machines!! Those darned vending machines with rows of neatly arranged snacks / sodas, beckoning to you when you are off-guard. when your mind looks for a diversion, any diversion, from the monotonous monitor-staring, mouse-clicking, keyboard-tapping work.
Now wait a minute, why am I yapping about aliens and vending machines? Overdose of MIB, you might think.
Let me explain. Here I was in front of the vending machine with my carefully collected fistful of coins.I should probably tell you here that this particular machine is so designed that when you put the coins or dollar bills in and press a alpha numeric code, the snack corresponding to the code will slide out and fall to the bottom of the machine. You have to reach down, push the little door open and get your stuff.
To get back to the story, I had a lot of small change so I decided to get rid of them. I carefully counted and dropped five and ten cent coins into the slot. The display showed me I had the right amount.Then again so carefully I pressed C7.(That is the snack I needed). I was in one of those gluttonous moods. I wanted to grab the bag, tear it open and gorge its contents immediately.The aliens residing in the machine learnt this piece of information by intercepting my strong brain waves.(I arrived at this conclusion later, as a result of serious retrospection).I saw the bag starting to slide down towards the edge of its row. As it was about to fall down I opened the little door below to pick it up as soon as it fell down. Wham! The sliding stopped and the bag of snacks, MY DELICIOUS CRUNCHY BAG OF SNACKS, was forcefully detained from joining its rightful owner, who had infact purchased it for a grand sum of 45 cents. 45 hard-earned cents shedding blood and sweat.(err... Overdid that a bit)! This is not fair at all!
I knew then and there it was the darned aliens. They had stopped the snack bag from falling down!!. They were probably laughing at the look of incredulity on my face. Those ugly buggers.
To top it all, they displayed a message on the little digital screen, "Have a nice day!".
There, I have told you. Have got it off my chest. My duty is done. They are there. Be Warned.

You may see the target, but have to cross the gap to reach it.

He trudges along, one weary step after another,following the steps of the hazy shadow leading his way. His mind is unable to comprehend anything anymore. He looks up and around, blinking in the unforgiving harsh lights. He could see a myriad of colorrs around him, in his mind's eye. Was it real or imagined? He knew somewhere deep down that the end is near. There!! he could see it! The destination is near! The red sign marks it! With renewed hope he follows the shadowy figure.
He hears a voice asking him something..the voice.. he knows the voice.. very familiar..it is coming from the shadow.. his brain barely registers a few words, "do..think..that..look..me?".
Wait! the blurred figure has started moving away from the destination. No! He can't take it anymore!! He shakes his head in frustration and groans in anguish. His hopes dashed, he resigns himself to his fate, a broken man.He knows that there is no way out now, not for another one hour atleast.
The figure stops looks at him and again and asks "Honey, do you think this dress will look good on me? umm.. How about this one?"

Life goes on :)

Now read the title again
You MACY the TARGET, but have to cross the GAP to reach it. ;)

The Mighty Left

I read this humorous article on the Metro plus-Chennai about being left-handed. It brought back memories of when i was a kid. For some people their left hand is the 'right(wrtie?)' hand.
I used to write with both hands!!(not simultaneously though, like Abe Lincoln).. My teachers at school beat me up every time I used my left hand to write!! I was forced to use my right hand. But still I use my left hand predominantly for holding stuff, throwing a ball etc..but never again in my life, till now, could I write legibly..Guess what happened in the end? I ended up with two left hands that cannot write :-(.
You know how it is.. Two lefts can never make a right :-)

So here is a small verse i wrote for all those confused kids out there who are left-handed.

If your left writes right
and your left feels strong
Then your left is might
and your right is wrong

So all leftys unite
and join the fight
dont give up ur right
your left is your right