Dr.Ames' Inventory of New Age Diseases-4

Welcome to the latest edition of Dr.Ames's inventory. Our research team has compiled four of the most rampant and often incurable diseases plaguing the New Age. The good doctor urges the avid readers to formulate possible cures for the the latter category.

1)Whine-flu: A chronic illness that is known to be more devastating to the bystanders than the patients, whine-flu is a terribly debilitating disease which once acquired is almost impossible to be rid off. It generally manifests as an infection in the ENT circuit, resulting in the generation of high-frequency nasal sound-emissions. These emissions, much like second-hand smoke, are more detrimental to those around the patient.Excessive exposure to Whine-flu patients have often known to result in extreme aggression and use of force on the patient.The patients themselves are usually oblivious to the effect of their emissions and their condition is uncommonly contagious. The Doctor advices immediate quarantining of the affected individuals, coupled with the judicious use of duct tape and/or straitjacket. As for treatment of the patients, the Doctor advices steady doses of Ignoredol by inoculated/inured practitioners.

2)Sighnessitis: A strange cardiac malady that culminates into a respiratory disorder, Sighnessistis is a universal ill. The disease manifests in the form of extended exhales which may go on for anywhere ranging from a minute to an hour depending upon the stimuli. Much like an allergy, the virulence of the disease is greatly dependent upon the strength of the allergen. Allergens may include malfunctioning technology, sentimental scenes, poetry,certain types of music, particularly beautiful and equally unattainable face(s), enlarging waistline,photographs etc. The Cure is largely subjective, but a double dose of the miracle drug Snapoutofit is known to be effective.

3)Brawn-chitis: Generally considered to be a male malediction, this is a psychological disorder triggered by physical causes. The malediction is usually characterized by excessive growth of musculature that consequently cuts of the air and blood supply to the cranial area rendering the patient with more brawn than brain and a growing obsession with biceps, triceps, abs and the like to the point of complete neglect of general life. A growing menace of the modern age, scientists and researchers are frantically searching for a cure to this debilitating disease.

4)Snoriasis:It is often confused with the Sleeping Sickness spread by the intrepid tse-tse fly in the jungle reaches of the Congo. Snoriasis is a much more widespread, broad-based disease. It is generally characterized by recurrent rashes of death-like sleep often accompanied by earth/eardrum shattering snores. Trying to rouse the patient in the midst of these spells is often fruitless. However, the doctor advices the use of cold water or sharp movement as possible modes of awakening. This is a disease where prevention is infinitely more possible than cure. Intake of coffee, pepsi and other glucose enriched, highly caffeinated substances are known to be effective methods of preventions, as is exercise and light entertainment. A good horror movie usually does the trick.

That's all for this edition, new additions will be added- as always- when the good doctor feels like it. Until then, stay healthy.

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!

Dr.Ames' Inventory of New Age Diseases- 2

Welcome to the newest edition of Dr.Ames' Directory for New Age Diseases.This edition's prime diseases are:

Fartigo: This is an airborne menace. Like the foot-in-mouth disease (refer to Edition1)this diabolical disease works pulse like- rippling outward. It may be compared to an atomic explosion. It hardly ever effects the source, except in very rare cases when the source is struck by chagrined embarassment. But this is , as mentioned earlier, very rare. Most sources feign ignorance and several go unknown-thus creating an aura of mystery. The general symptoms are immediate nausea and necessity to cover the nasal passage following the inhalation of noxious fumes. General moaning and occasional cases of loss of consciousness have also been recorded. The disease can be almost fatal in small enclosed spaces. The best remedy is to catch hold of the source and dispose of it in the nastiest way possible.

Like-aemia: This is a speech defect. It is characterised by excessive use of the word "like". Generally deemed a disease of the young, this illness has spread its tentacles into not so young speech as well. In it's most virulent form,cancerous like-aemia cells can overide all the cells in a sentence thereby creating a tumor in the sense lodes of speech and consequent breakdown of communication and leaving listeners cell-shocked.The origins of this disease may seem harmless- a "like" here, a "like" there. But soon this becomes a "like" everywhere. The disease must be nipped in the bud and this can be achieved by constant teasing and in the case of little children or easily dominated individuals- a sharp, forceful down/side ways movement on any fleshy part of the patient's anatomy should suffice to discourage.

Sore-i-ass-is: This ailment is very broad-based(no pun intended). It usually manifests itself on individuals who spend a lot of time on their behinds. It is characterised by numbness and alternating soreness experienced in the posterior. This disease is an occupational hazard for drivers,especially bikers,in a traffic jam, 10 ruppee ticket movie watchers,students in an exam hall and government officials. Another variation of this is seen in students whose ends have made an acquaintance with the rougher end of a ruler/cane/paddle/any hard and effectively pain inducing surface. A brisk massage or a special exercise called the Guntherian-bum-dance is very effective in tackling Sore-i-ass-is.
No-money-a: This too is a highly wide spread disease. It is characterised by a lack of GFCs (refer to Edition1). Almost everyone who has made an acquaintance with GFCs believes that they have suffered from this disease or are suffering from this disease. But the perenial patients are always- students. Students, especially the college variety,constantly succumb to this illness and have to undergo an intensely painful drought period. They sometimes try to combat this through the Borrowing Maneuver, but this generally increases the risk of relapse.The best method to tackle this menace is by cultivating several GFC banks and by appealing to the Green Cross run by Parental Associates for GFC transfusions in dire scenarios.

The Common-Scold: This is a common ailment stereotypically manifested in the female. However the doctor holds that this is equally or more applicable to the male. It is usually seen in parents. The symptoms of this disease is a characteristic repetetion of dialogues or threats, better knowns as scolds, issuing from the male/female in question. Continuous exposure to the Common-Scold can result in sore-throats (for the patient), headaches (for the receiver) and general discomfort. The only way to tackle this is to grin and bear it. Cotton helps though.

Further developments in the New Age Medical scene will be updated as and when the venerable doctor feels like it. The good doctor expresses gratitude to fellow physicians for their valuable inputs. Until the next time,good health and happiness to all.

The Sound and the Fury

Let me take you back in time...

Four stalwarts from the realm of literature strode strong and steady- albeit a little dusty- into the hallowed premises of the Newspaper. They had traversed tracts of dry, dusty,fissured lands, into the heart of Ambattur. Here they met the heartless Seven-Hills:who ruthlessly dispatched the great hero Gunther to the Features department and the others to the Editorial. So Pyne, Bentley and Ames bid a tearless but moving adieu to their comrade and trudged to their separate fates.

So much for the exposititon.

Pyne,Bentley and Ames were assigned to work with the verbose King-go-Milk. 'Verbose' being a tactful understatement. Somewhere in the middle of the 50th example of his youthful exploits, King-go-Milk remembered that the interns were to be assigned work. Snapping awake from their glazed stupor, the three drew their pens and attacked the 5 copies assigned to each of them. Just as the first marks were about to be made, there came a terrible sound...

AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRPPPPPP!!

"What was that?!" gasped Pyne.
"Sounded like a wart hog!" exclaimed Benltey.
"You've heard wart hogs?" mused Ames.
Their discussion was interrupted by another earth shattering 'UUUUUURRRRPPPP!!!'

"There it is again!" hissed Bentley.
"Let's investigate!" said Ames.
"Wait, let's scout the area first." cautioned the ever cautious Pyne.

Three pairs of eyes scanned the forest of cubicles.

GAAAAARRRRRRPPP!

Three heads swivelled- And there, sitting inconspicously in a cluster of computers, sat the Burper.
BAAAAARRRPPPPP!

"Oh it's just some guy with a ventilation problem." smiled Pyne.
"Probably had too much potato poriyal for lunch." snickered Ames.
UUUUURRRRPPPP!
"Well, he'd better put a stopper on it. Now let's get back to work before King-go-Milk decides to 'inspire' us with more of his young-tales." muttered Bentley.

But,you see gentle readers, regardless of it's monotonous nature, editing does require concentration. Having a nonstop burp-monster in your vicinity does not help. And the Burper's range was astounding. He could go from Foghorn to bullfrog in the space of a breath. To this day Ames swears that the Burper hit all seven notes in the scale.While the earlier expulsions were sporadic and far apart, pretty soon it was one per minute. It was like a form of chinese torture! Grating and grating until Ames had to be physically restrained from committing murder.

"Don't do it! He is just a guy with gas trouble!" panted Pyne hanging on grimly to a flailing arm.

"Yes! Be happy it's not coming out through the other end." wheezed Bentley tenaciously restraining the other.

With a great exertion of will Ames calmed down, and even completed the copies. In defence of Ames, this burporama coming shortly after an extreme exposure to King-go-Milk's narratives would bring down even the greatest. With each day of exposure to the Burper's gastric exhibitions, the three grew stronger and stronger. By the end of the internship they were totally immune to the airy onslaught. No longer did the sound produce such fury. The Buddha probably employed similar methods to teach his disciples forbearance.

You see gentle readers, like all great heros the three too had their fair share of tests before they reached the object of their quest. The Burper was only one of the obstacles in the dusty paths of their internship. Though we have already passed through the gates, the author is sure that somewhere in the bowels of the Newspaper, nestled comfortably among cables, coiled like intestines, the Burper still burps in abandon.

Thankfully, we are nowhere nearby to hear him.

Dr.Ames' Inventory of New Age Diseases-1

Diabetes Smellitus: Most individuals with an acute mania of the gastronomical variety generally suffer from this merciless menace. Symptoms include immediate sensation of weight gain following an inhalation of fragrances arising from any food item. Several patients suffering from this ailment express a feeling of "..growing fatter just by smelling it[the food]". This sensation is especially acute in the case of
a)the horizontally prolific in the company of permanently horizontally challenged individuals.
b)Individuals on a restrictive intake of sustenance-also called a 'diet' by some.
c)Foodies.

There is no cure.


Exama:This ailment is exclusive to the learning-class. It generally comprises of the rash of unstudied portions that erupt the day before the exams. Ancient Sha-moms advocate the absolutely improbable cure of prevention. Present day scenarios reveal an impossibility for the success of this option. the easiest way to tackle this problem is to scratch as much as you can and then place your faith in the higher powers. Several individuals have tried to tackle post-exama problems with chits of paper and communal chanting and sharing.Bribing the in-charge might help.

Free-mentia: This is a burgeoning epidemic today. The disease is mostly caused by the viruses sale-monella and offerillia- the breeding place of which is any area with retail tendencies.The general feature of this disease is the tendency to buy something for the simple reason that something else comes free with it. The utility and the necessity of the of the freebie is disregarded. This results in not only loss of the Green Financial Cells (GFC) but also in over crowding of living space. OR worse still, the giving and receiving of the freebies to unsuspecting masses.

Cure is a severe reduction of the supply of GFCs. Wearing blinders at shopping arenas would be an effective preventive measure.

Foot-in-Mouth Disease: Generally found in people with tongues longer than their thought processes, this disease is known to have wrecked several endeavors. It is difficult to ascertain exactly in what case this disease is most devastating. The un-complimenting compliment, the brash statement, the offensive joke are all just minor manifestations of this terrible menace. . The impact of this disease is generally pulse like- it ripples outward from the source.The curtailing of this is difficult as the occurrence is completely unpredictable (excepting in the case of known foot-in-mouthers). There is no definite prevention except keeping shut.

No-shoe-a: This ailment attacks at the worst of times and usually when there is no time. The characteristics of this disease involve the absconding of a single shoe from the pair or the pair itself. This results in mild hysteria and general rise in blood pressure; especially since-as mentioned before- this condition strikes when there is no time to spend searching. Scenarios include an important meeting, a movie etc. Causes of this include
a)"kicked off" footware.
b)clean up processes unknown to the owner of the footware.
c)sneaky room-mates/siblings.

The case becomes critical when the patient has only one pair of shoes.
Cure would require a substitute pair or handy fellow beings to borrow from.
A similar ailment is No-sock-ea. Substitute shoe with sock. This is a more virulent and common disease. The ailment is doubly painful in he case since the missing items are smaller and often, never turn up.

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!

At the receiving End

It is always disconcerting to find out you've won something. Especially so when you don't really know what to make of it.

I found myself in this unfamiliar predicament this year.

I always thought receiving a prize was a simple enough thing. You go up to the sad,jobless soul who was entrapped into prize-distribution, shoot her/him a sympathetic smile, wave a bit at your parents if they made it and skidaddle off.

I couldn't have been more off the mark.

No sooner did i find myself in the alien position of receiver, than I was summoned to the NCC grouns and given brisk instructions and training. A several hundred of us were herded together into organised ranks. Stern visages scowled if we even sneezed. All that was missing was the crew cuts and the bugle call.
An intimidating lecturer of a military aspect inspected our regiments, and issued the following orders.

"Tomorrow you WILL assemble here during the fifth hour. You WILL NOT be late. You WILL stand in precise lines according to your roll call and you WILL not steer from the herd!You WILL take precisely ten minutes to walk on and off the stage. You WILL NOT trip. You WILL pose for a photo with the distributor. You WILL NOT speak.You WILL wear a sari for the program. You WILL NOT object. IS THAT CLEAR! "

Clicking heels-
"MA'AM YES MA'AM!"

And thus began The Rehearsal.

Unnerved by the harsh, clinical method of this madness, I turned to the learned Pyne- veteran Prize winner.
"Oh venerable Pyne! What is this? Why are we made to stand in this sweltering heat, moving like automatons to the words of unknown superiors? What wrong did we do? "

Pyne looked down at my sweat streaked,sun-burnt face and smiled with understanding wise eyes. "It is simple Ames," said Pyne, "you won."

Is this what we win when we win? We get an award- what does that give us? More rules to follow, more expectations to live up to. We get promoted- what do we gain? More superiors, harsher commands, a slow erosion of normalcy.

Wining is euphoric- it is a rush of blood to the head. It gives you a high like no opium does, it makes your heart swell with happiness. It is only when the high fades and you see the responsibilities that come with each victory, that you wonder why you asked for this. Wouldn't being a non-entity be easier?

Perhaps...

But I've always loved the rocky roads. They're more fun- especially when you yell "AAAAAAAA" over the extra bumpy parts. Right Gunther?:D

The Arabic Connection

To continue on the subject of foreign language teachers on the timely suggestion of my blogger comrade MaterialMom, the author moves on to the Middle Eastern Crisis.

An Indian school in an Arabian set up has a few set backs. One of them being the compulsory Arabic. From the tender age of six, clueless toddlers were thrown into the terrifying jungle of 'alef, baa, ta, tha, jeem...'. Actually, the langue itself wasn't too bad. It was the teachers.

The three witches from Macbeth were cherubic angels in comparison to the dear darlings who taught us. Their screams would've made banshees cringe and if only they'd talked a little slower- our arabic bad word vocabulary would have made Saddam Hussein blink. But they helped us in many ways. Especially during exams. But first- acquaint yourself with the studying methods.Students prepared in a simple,scientific procedure- if the first letter of the question was this, then the answer would be that. A similar method was followed in the case of match the following, true or false.. pretty much everything,actually. And then we'd learn exactly ten words with the different maathras and attachments. The meaning is meaningless to us, just mug. On second thought, mugging isn't even necessary. The students would simply copy words which happened to appear in the question paper as examples of usages. If even that fails, we can always transliterate names and stuff. A certain classmate transliterated mallu place names in arabic. This streak of brilliance was sadly lost because (a) they didn't get it. And (b) He used it in Give the Opposites, the stupid fool. And now we come to the teachers' help. While attempting (very important word)to write the paper, once in a while the sure fire methods would fail. But then the teachers come to the rescue. They subtly sidle their large forms and mutter a muted (read, normal speech)"This wrong. This and this right." If the student is still at sea, they'd very obligingly point out the right one. So if you actually fail in Arabic- either you are reaaally DUMB. Or the teachers don't like you.

Consequently, we students were able to read and write arabic quite well. Sadly the understanding and comprehension was nil. Rather a waste of eight years,you think? Not quite. We have a lovely store of bad words, and a knack for impressing people by spelling their names in Arabic( I don't know why, but it does) Also, most of us emerge good caligraphists(with notable exceptions such as the author). After all the arabic class was more like drawing letters you really didn't understand. We learn exactly how to charm our way through, our palms are strong and callussed from the canings... so it wasn't a total waste, right?

The author has always maintained that Education is the progressive method through which everything we need to know is replaced by everything we don't. Our Arabic validates this statement na-am?

French connection.

The teachers who lead us through the first stumbling steps of francais were alternately howlarious or pitiable- unintentionally of course.Specimen A,fondly known as Kow, was a cure for insomnia. No matter how many Red Bulls you might drink before class- within five seconds of Kow's big toe touching the classrom threshold your eyelids will succumb to gravity. During the long ago days when the author believed in the possibilities of education, the zealous author would actually sit in the first row hoping the fear factor would help against the Great Sleepiness.The experiment was a resounding failure. Undeterred, the author got reinforcements- her buddies: one on either side to poke her awake. She was reduced to poking them awake whenever she was awake. Pretty soon we just gave up. We'd sit in the front row and play hangman or X&0 or soemthing keep us from falling flat on the desk because the others had smartly usurped the last row. Picture this- the Author and Co. playing papergames wide open at the first row. Logically, we're caught. But real life is rarely logical. Kow lows her way to the last row where two unsuspecting souls had been catching up with their 40 winks! C'est la vie.

Specimen B, respectfully known as Mademoiselle, was from france. She managed to teach us something- a great achievement.Her english was... not good...but she plodded through the harsh consonants and confusing vowels of l'anglais. Well, once it so happened that she had the ladt hour with us. A bad fate for any teacher. A worse one if you've already had a bad day. She didn't have the courage or thenergy to tackle us, she gave us a free hour. Very bad idea. For the uninitiated, our class makes the parliament in uproar seem like a Church service. Five minutes into the class and the scene unfolds...

Mademoiselle(decibel level, normal) : Plizz kip qui-ett I 'ave a 'ead ache.

[Half a second of silence and the buzz restarts]

10 minutes.

Mademoiselle (decibel leve, slightly higher than normal): Clazz, I sed kip qui-ett!

[Quarter of a second of silence]

5 minutes.

Mademoiselle(decibel level, upper half of loud): Silence!

[1/8th of a second of silence]

A minute

Mademoiselle(decibel level, high enough to blow a few eardrums):

BVJJDBFBJHAGBLGBKGHLJGMBGHNKGMNGGFOHLKGNJHNGIHGNBGBGHFGHBAGRFGBFHVLKFSB!!!!!!

[A full minute of silence]

Class: HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Mademoiselle(desperate whisper): Mon dieu!

Yes, we were rather evil. Mademoiselle survived with us for two years before she ran for her sanity. But i owe her for what little french i know. Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle.

Dusty stories-3

AUTHORS NOTE:- THOSE WHO HAVE NO IDEA WHAT DUSTY STORIES-3 IS ABOUT ARE REQUESTED TO READ DUSTY STORIES 1 AND 2.

STATUTORY WARNING-LOOK IT UP WHILE YOU LOOK AT DUSTY STORIES 2.
_______________________________________________________

From Dust to Dust.

The end approaches.Soon The Four will bid adieu to Ambattur.

Shouldn't the quartet be delirious with joy?
Shouldn't they reel with delight at the thought of dust-less days?

Then why do they feel depressed at thought of leaving?

Ah the irony!

The last few days had been some of the best. Ames, Pyne and Bentley had their names in print and Agent Gunther had several diplomatic assignments in the Reporting Arena. The dust no longer stung as much. They had met absolutely fascinating people like The Disciple and Ten-o-clocker. Even pestilences like the Burper, the Potato-Man and Bulb-Eye had become bearable.They had unforgetable experiences like Bentley's massaging travails, Ames' dizzy spell(NOT FAINT), Pyne's hitherto unknown fans asking for doubtlessly good-looking Pyne's details to supply their smitten friends with. And how can the author forget the dear Mother Goose who showed Pyne,Bentley and Ames the wonders of anna Nagar like Oddessey, besides others.

And of course the buses.

These Terrors of the road have turned into familiars. Though bus routes are still a coiled mystery and small change is permanently elusive- the Four are no longer the novices that hung on for dear life on the bars of an MTC. They are veterans of the road wars- nearly killed, almost hauled out, stepped on, prodded, squashed...they have survived. And now they will be no more surfing, no more long discussions on love, art and the universe of Ambattur.Ah the loss of those days full camaraderie- cursing the heat with good humored vehemence,swearing sweetly at the sweat, laughing like loons at jokes nobody else would find even remotely funny- How will they live without it?

Yet the Four Interns lift up their chins. They will not bend in despondency. The Dusty stories may have ended, but their stories will go on. They turn their faces to the burning sun and look to the road ahead.

After all..

Tomorrow is another day.

A Little Chicken is a dangerous thing

When you see a chicken- you know how the phrase "dumb bird" came to being.The bird is a bird-brained, dumb-duck! I know it's a foul way to speak of the delicious fowl- but if you ask me, chickens are best on the dinner platter liberally garnished with gravy and other mouth watering delicacies or fried to a crisp with lots of spice. But if you see these dumb birds as subservient sufferers, you are much mistaken. They do get their revenge. The occasional bird flu back fires and ends up getting more chickens that humans being killed-but I repeat: They get their revenge.

The thought hit me like a monster MTC bus when a dish of roast chicken and mashed potatoes was placed before moi. My mouth watered, my stomach rumbled enthusiastically- but there was a small problem. I was expected to eat with a knife and fork. I was as alien to flatware etiquette as a bear to Einstein's Theory of Relativity! My friend rocked on her seat crying mirthful tears watching my struggles. And I ground my teeth and glared at the big, fat, haunch of meat sitting and blinking at me like some dumbass chicken! But no bird-dead or alive- was going to get the better of me! HAH!

I rammed the fork in and hacked away at the chicken like a maddened Ghenghis Khan only to be rewarded by a tiny sliver of meat. Not one to be disheartened I persevered- splattering my table-mat, my table-mate, the surrounding tables and myself liberally with gravy and mashed potatoes. We battled to and fro neither side relenting. The enemy was a deadly fighter- "dead" being the operative word. But I'm no chicken. The war was turning messier by the minute.And my friend was falling off her chair with laughter.

But at last human nature got the upper hand and most of the dead bird disappeared down the gullet. But there were losses on both sides. On my side it was mostly of dignity. And also a certain feeling that the spirit of that exasperating chicken had been watching and having a hearty laugh- damned bird!

Needless to say- I beat a hasty retreat.

Dusty Stories-2

AUTHOR'S NOTE:All those who have no idea what Dusty Stories-2 is about are requested to read Dusty Stories-1.

STATUTORY WARNING-These entries are purely non-fictional. Any resemblance to people living or dead are completely intentional. The reader undertakes reading this at her/his own risk. We will not be held responsible for future dust-phobia or any dust related disorders that may strike the reader post reading.

______________________________________________________

Dust is dangerous.

It does baaaaad things to you.
And that is besides the inevitable scratchiness.

The fellowship of Gunther,Ames,Pyne and Bentley have found, in a series of formidable battles with this sifty adversary, that prolonged exposure to dust causes a definite case of Cuckosia Mentalosa.

It begins with a vague feeling of light headed-ness. This can easily be mistaken for dehydration- but beware! Then come the bouts of hysterical senseless giggling.Finally the all out loss of sanity which may result in various complications and embarrassment to the person next to you. Some of the catalogued results are- singing loudly(understatement)in the middle of the road, shouting comments at unwary passerbys, trying to do pull ups on a bus bar when there isn't room enough for a squashed sardine and of course the general obstruction of peace.
Ames was the worst hit. Generally an effervecent and not too inhibited soul- Ames became an uncontrollable lunatic and did all the above mentioned activities and grinned apologetically at the chaos. Though Ames was the worst case- the other bold warriors also succumbed to the dreadful (but rather entertaining)disease.

And as if cuckosia wasn't bad enough, there was also the fact that the fellowship members began to resemble baked bricks and feel like grime pots.

After the stint in the Editorial, Ames,Bentley and Pyne were removed to Reporting. Gunther-still painfully separated- was posted in the Editorial. The Three reporterns gave Gunther valuable insight on the working of the said department; especially of the in charge- let's call him King-go-Milk - who had a penchant for telling long stories and interesting tid-bits:especially when we have to run and catch the bus.

The three interns at Reporting valiantly approached the Reporting department. Our fellow worker at the editorial [who,btw,never failed to point out that she was from Mumbai,with the familial background of the SIS college(probably affiliated to the BRO college,the DAD College and the MUM college...and so on and so forth){I use a lot of parentheses}]who had had some experience in the reporting dept filled our heads with images of having to travel to faraway lands and returning back to dustville merely to give in a measley report.

On entering the alien portals we were made to follow the general axiom of The Newspaper,remnicent of Gandalf,"And now we wait". When finally we met the great man-let's call him the Ten-o-Clocker - who headed the dept we arrived just in time to hear the head declare "Let them arrest me!I don't give a damn!" At which, this writer admits, we were much impressed. It's not everyday that a man proffesses to want to ride in the paddy-wagon! We were immediately given work. "Ah something to get our teeth into" Thought the three. The mission quickly accomplished, we returned to be given our first assignment only to be told to call at 10. " Such a great aura of mystery" thought Ames. "Did he really mean 10 at night?" pondered Pyne.

Dutifully we called and were sent bounding off to places we had never heard of before. In the following days we did all the things we were afraid of doing- namely getting lost in the middle of nowhere(Ames), being mistaken for a kid(Pyne), getting to the venue to find NOBODY around (Bentley), and generally being clueless( need I say- ALL).
Yet we shouldered our burdens and forged ahead despite heat,sweat and damn it all DUST!! We kept a smile on our face -maniacal though it may have been. for after all-
tomorrow is another day...

*To be continued*

Dusty Stories-1

Zealously cutting short our vacation in order to get a taste of "profession", four of us- let's call us Ames, Gunther, Bentley and Pyne- set out to the glowing portals of Indian Express.Please note- it was only while setting out that we were zealous. One look at the prospective travel lowered our zeal considerably.

Ah, forgive me. I'm being circuitous. Let's start at the very beginning- it's a pretty good place to start.

We four pioneers of the English stream, chose to do a course that requires an internship. Being the worthy students that we are we chose to go to a prestigious company- and therefore: The Newspaper. We were required to submit a letter to the editor warning him of our impending arrival. A noble thought. The place was located in Amabttur- and the light in our glowing faces dimmed. "Ah well, worth a try." said the enthusiastic four.

The scenic beauty of Ambattur exists wholly in the imagination.
Comprising mostly of dust,grime,hardware stores and unending heat- the Industrial Estate was a planet away from comfort. It would have helped if the place were accesible but... let's just say if the work didn't kill us the travel would.But forever the optimists we persevered.

The bus ride didn't help.
The sight of dust, dust and more dust also didn't help.
And being made to wait for 1 and a half hours and then being told that the editor was not even there definitely DID NOT HELP.

"What nonsense!" cried Gunther in rage. Ames was also not very amicable. However, Bentley and Pyne,forever the souls calmness, said, "It's alright we'll come again later."

Thus began a series of phone calls to ascertain when to come. (We have come up with a most excellent theory- they give internship applicants the ONE number that will NEVER be picked up.)Finally we were asked to meet the great man at a specified time.

And so, once again we undertook the ardorous journey. Saw dust dust and more dust. (not to mention garbage and plastic). Reached the destination. And was met by the Editor's secretary- let's call him Seven-Hills. Seven-Hills asked us to wait an hour(they seem to go by Milton's axiom- "...even those are served who stand and wait")After which-JOY OF JOYS- our letter was accepted and we were officially intern-ised!!

And thus began the great saga of The Internship!

On the appointed day(May 2)at the appointed time (12.30) we met the ever present Seven-Hills. He mercilessly separated the foursome and now Gunther walks alone in the world of Features while Ames, Bentley and Pyne were assigned to the editorial. Burying our sorrows, we enthusiastically set out revolutionise the editorial!!!- and were made to wait. Till 5. And finally were set free without having done anything. Oh the Humanity!!! More like oh the dust! But- tomorrow is another day...

*To Be Continued*