And we are born again

Dear The World According to Me,

Another year dies. And a new one emerges from the womb of time. The world has been reborn with the hereditary traits of a million centuries- and not all of them good. Yet, it squalls unbeaten, determined to survive.

You too,dear blog, have survived. Despite the erratic and eccentric nature of the Creator, you have managed to go on. Not only have you survived,you have also grown. You have seen old faces move on and new faces enter, new branches grace your family tree. You enter the new year with the strength of a hundred posts behind you- a true achievement indeed given the decidedly Ent-like nature of the Creator. Regardless of droughts and depressions you still continue. And for this the Creator Herself bows to you (no meager compliment,this).

The World According to me is like the world. It moves into the new year carrying the scars and achievements of the ages. But yet, it remains optimistic, because not all that passed in the past was utterly irredeemably bad. The World According to Me is a world of it's own. And the Creator promises Happy things for you.

The Creator,

AtomicGitten

Happy New Year to all. :D

Dr. Ames' Inventory of New Age Diseases-3

Welcome to the newest edition of Dr.Ames' Directory for New Age Diseases. This edition will focus on two of the most rampant ailments plaguing the student community. The avid readers will perhaps be disappointed at the brevity of this edition. However, the good doctor assures them that these two ailments are equivalent to four more than than their number. Knowledge awaits:


1) Brain ham-or-rage:

This dreaded condition strikes the student at her/his most delicate times. That of assignment writing. As most individuals who have gone through the motion of higher education would know, these tasks are usually commenced on the previous day; more often a couple of hours before dead-line(emphasis on dead).And given that an hour can only accommodate 60 minutes, the ideal strategy of research is generally abandoned.This rather tight situation results in a surge of enzymes and fluids into the cranial area. The body adapts to the need for material and a enters a phase known as SFEE (Spontaneous Fecal-Equivalent Emission), more commonly known as "crapping" or "hamming". This phase is characterized by the cerebrum morphing into it's sister form- cerebum. "All the better for writing out of one's a**.", to quote a leading medical practitioner. This transformation ensures the student an entry into the word-limit safe zone.
However,the morph often goes awry due to a diffusion of the said fluids,and results not only in aforementioned change,but also in that of the medula oblongata into muddle-a oblongated. This causes a constipation in the cerebum and a general lack of flow in FE (Fecal-Equivalent). Thus, leaving the student unable to fill the necessary pages and the emergence of general frustration and rage.This condition is known as Ham-or-rage. High frequency screaming, groaning at computer screens, and zombie-like stricken staring are all symptoms of this.

Cures are broadly subjective. However, short walks, emergency light reading and beverages have proven to be useful in the past. Extreme measures include sharp flicking movements of the wrist towards the visage of the patient.

2)Arth-write-is:

This ailment is characterised by the stiffening of the joints through intensive writing/typing. Most people mistake this condition to be limited merely to the fingers. This is not true. The neck, the lower back etc. are also targets. Sometimes patients have even complained about "sprained brains". As painful as the condition is, it is not necessarily crippling. The student usually plows along even with the said ailment, often inflaming the condition to the level of a C-section. A C-section can be defined as the movement of two extreme ends of one structure towards each other under the influence of gravity,concentration and extensive pressure. This usually results in the arth-write-is struck bone structure taking the form of a "C". Another complication that might arise is that of Type-phoid. In this case the fingers of the ailing person seize up and/or obtain a psyche of their own. Both the scenarios result in considerable discomfort and disastrous typos.
Flexing, massaging and stretching are effective methods to ease out of this ailment.

Further developments in the New Age medical field will be updated as and when the venerable doctor feels like it. Until then, good health and happiness to all! And happy healthy Christmas!

Grand Exit

Here is another story from the heart of malluland. I extend my humble thanks to my father for supplying me with this one.


The Keralite family,with its ridiculously hypocritical system of matriarchy(a bigger hoax there never was), granted all the power to the maternal uncle or the Ammaaman of the family. Thiruvazhuthaan was one such ammaaman. And in the after life he would give serious competition to the Devil. Besides being a natural despotic tyrant and a bigotted sadist, Thiruvazhuthaan also took pleasure in driving away all his family members and anyone who dared to be at harassing distance. And even after they left, he rejoiced in thinking up and executing elaborate plans which managed to trouble and hassle them regardless of distance. Yes: you could run, you could hide, but you can't escape his abuse.

Several interminable years of torture later, to the joy and relief of his family, Thiruvazhuthaan finally ended up on his death bed. Him being the head of the family, the entire family was obligated to turn up. Mumbling, grumbling, cursing and scowling at the inconvenience, they came to offer their last respects(hah!) to the dying man. Bent and crooked, a mere waif of his evil self, Thiruvazhuthaan summoned the eldest brother of the second generation to his side. The brother grudgingly agreed and shuffled off to the beside, manfully disguising his elation at his uncle's dying state.

Thiruvazhuthaan raised his shrivelled, puckered lips in a semblance of a smile and coughed a frail cough. Anyone with a heart would have felt a faint tremor of sympathy for him. The nephew unbent enough to smile back and hold his uncle's hand.
"I have been very cruel to you,nephew; to all of you...." he rasped.
The nephew demurred completely, but respectfully kept quiet.
"... And I deserved to punished ten fold for it..."
The nephew was tempted to agree vigorously, but held his tongue again.
" And so I have thought of something good to give all of you satisfaction."
Here is where the nephew sat bolt upright and became wary. The nephew had good reason to be cautious- His uncle had never thought anything remotely good or helpful in his entire life.
A short fit of dry coughing later, Thiruvazhuthaan outlined his plan. He instructed the nephew to find a fine bamboo growing in the backyard, cut down a sizable portion, and, following his uncle's death, to sharpen one end of the pole and(here's the climax) shove it up his dead a**.
Ignoring the flabbergastred stare his nephew was levelling at him, Thiruvazhuthaan continued, "Only the family must do it. And it must be done. It is the only way my soul will find solace..."
"But I ca-"
"Say the truth! You have to admit that I deserve to be impaled."
"Well...that's tr-"
"You have to do this for me! It's my dying wish!
" But Ammaava how can-"
"You must! My soul will never find peace if you don't! You must make sure I'm impaled! Otherwise, my spirit will haunt this realm and never go away."

It was probably the thought of the prolonged existence of his Uncle in any form,anywhere near him that made the decision for the nephew. He agreed to carry out the request and communicated the developments to the rest of the family. For some reason,they were very enthusiastic about carrying it out...

At long last the old gargoyle breathed his last and the family breathed a sigh of relief (they were probably worried that he'd stay alive just to spite them). His final request was carried out with unwonted happiness and his spitted body was laid out for people to pay their respects. The mangled state of the corpse raised scandal and suspicion amongst the guests at the funeral. 'The family did him in!' they exclaimed. 'What brutal beasts! They actually impaled the poor old man!', decried the good folk.

To cut to the chase, the action oriented townsfolk called in the police and the smilingly impaled corpse earned the family an arrest and murder charges. You see, there was no document certifying that the uncle actually requested the procedure. There was only the nephew's word for it. And the entire place knew about the bad blood between the uncle and the rest of the family. The poor family was embroiled in scandal, entrenched in a convoluted legal case, black marked, and had to go into hiding. That poor nephew is probably slapping himself over and over again for believing his scheming uncle.

Well, in Thiruvazhuthaan's defence, he had spoken the truth. I'm sure his soul wouldn't have found solace if he hadn't made sure his family would be mired in trouble even after his death. And he never once said he was sorry. In his mind, I'm sure, he'd died the perfect death- One stick in the right place ended up ensuring more strife than anyone could have imagined. His life was fulfilled. For him a stick up his a** in no way detracted from the dignity of his death; in fact it made it a grand exit!

Make-down

Apparently senility is making its presence felt within my geriatric being .
Hitting 21 has set off weird experimental tendencies in my erstwhile marginally sane mind. But the hold must be slipping from my gnarled hands. Why else would I actually
dabble in that quagmire, make-up?
How low the mighty have fallen!...

...It was a nice, cool evening, the wind blowing in fresh soft gusts from the balcony. My newly cleaned out room smiled a satisfied smile and all was in peace. Not for long... At some misguided moment, like Dr.Frankenstien, I decided to tread on unchartered territories. Chancing upon a lonely pot of kajal, some wicked spirit whispered in my ear to try out "smoky eyes". Dunno what that is? Neither did I, until a few months back. I blame it all on my fashion savy room-mate whose every second word is a fashion statement ;p . "Smoky eyes", as popularised by the likes of Angelina Jolie, Rani Mukherjee etc., essentially involves drawing kohl on your eyes and then smudging the whole thing.Yeah yeah it's supposed to have a lot more to it, but this is the bare essential method. Ridiculous, isn't it? And it sounds ridiculously easy too.

Apparently not.

Eye #1 was not such a hassle, the kajal behaved itself and went only where the ear-bud coaxed (yes, I'm an innovative soul). Eye#2 however was where both kajal and ear-bud decided to make like the Bounty crewmen and mutiny. I dabbed left, the kajal went right. Truly a scietific miracle- I don't know how it managed it! Pretty soon I figured out I wasn't a dab hand at dabbing. 'This eye is lighter than the other. No problem. Just a little more to that side. And some more to this side.A little here and- Oh hell now this eye is darker than the other.' A few short minutes later,I looked like a sleep deprived druggie with a blackened eye. Shooting a black glance at the kohl encrusted earbud, I tried my luck again.Dab, dab, rub, rub. Oh lovely-a look in the glass confirmed my suspicions- Now I looked like a panda.

In the face of such stubborn non-cooperation from the earbuds, I decided to go for a new game plan. Yes, I know what you're thinking. I should have just given it up then. But like any tragic heroine, I simply tumbled headlong and headstrong into my black doom. Chucking the offending earbud into the nearest dustbin, I put my ingenious plan into action. I ground two of my fingers into the kajal and swept them across my eye- Woohoo! it's going where it's supposed to go! A little here and little there, wait let me just scratch my upper li- AAAAG!

Great! Now I looked like a panda with half a black moustache.

And no- not just your average Charlie Chaplin moosh. This one would probably put Tipu Sultan to shame. I raised my hands in despair -and thankfully stopped before any more damage could be done.I yield ye black monsters of beauty! I swallowed the dark draught of defeat and slinked off to wash away the stains of battle.

Slipping into stealth mode I shimmied out of my room and shadowed towards the nearest sink and soap. Admittedly, being the one person in the entire family with nothing to do, gives one a lot of solitude. However, there's always a chance of brother dearest sneaking up on me when I least expected it or wanted it. Like right then, for example. Thankfully he and nobody else did. Tip toeing my way to the bathroom, I vigorously scrubbed my face- only to realise that the kajal I had used was of a particularly stubborn varitety. About half an hour later I emerged out of the bathroom looking like Gollum's grandaunt who was majorly into cocaine.

I wholeheartedly admit that my attempt at smoky-eyes was too much smoke for my eyes. On the otherhand, I believe I created a new fashion phenomenon myself. I mean, if there can be "smoky eyes", there can also be "burnt-charcoal-eyes", right? Be that as it may, I think I'll limit my make-up escapades to plain chapstick. If not for the sake of my questionable sanity, at least for that of others who may unwittingly stumble upon the Beast trying to get to Beauty level :P.

Now I'm off to bed to catch up on my beauty sleep. Goodnight :D