BHOLA’S BLESSING – UP TO A POINT

Every time I get insulted in a tea party,
I can seldom come up with a repartee.
It’s only after partaking a joint
That I remember the rejoinder, to the point.

Whenever I write poems, in verses,
My rhymes evoke colourful curses.
And then I have a smoke and lines flow;
My poems are joint efforts, really so.

When suddenly I find myself in trouble
Like when cement won’t mix with the rubble;
I retire, and have a deep toke.
Problems? What problems? It’s a joke!

When I sit and strum my guitar
And my fingers can’t e’en hold a bar,
I go to the toilet for a puff –
Lo! I’m Clapton or Page, in a huff!

And then, when I am stuck at work,
When designs don’t meander, they jerk,
I simply roll up and light a reef –
And suddenly the plans meet the brief.

But when a deadline’s gotta be met
And I realise I’m bound to be late,
To get inspiration, I go get blown.
Alas! By then the client has flown!

GOING TO THE MOON?

Recently read in the papers that soon
ISRO scientists are planning to send someone to the moon.
For that purpose they are trying to build a rocket;
And asking the government to take the country and hock it.

You see, they have presented a multi-crore budget
Though I dare say they're soon going to fudge it
And the expenses shall increase again and again.
"Unforeseen necessities" is the usual refrain.

So, the poor shan't be fed, the ill shan't be treated,
The infra-structure shall remain completely depleted;
No one's thinking of the common man in RK Laxman's cartoon.
And all this just to go to the moon!

Well, they can easily save much pain and a whole lot of money
If you send them to me, honey.
I'll simply roll them a Manali, stiffy,
And they will reach the moon, Mars, Venus or for that matter anywhere in the blasted universe in a jiffy.

WHO WHO

The World’s first truly heavy metal band made its debut in Calcutta recently. The band is named the Who Who, for some unknown reason. They are fast making a mark in the music scene. A recent article in the net edition of Dukkho Bajar Patrika was headlined: "Hu hu kore unnoti korchhe Who Who."

Speaking to our underground reporter Bara Bari Misra, the lead guitarist of Who Who, Pete Bumsend (known as Pb to his innumerable fans) said, "Ours is the world’s first truly heavy metal band. My guitar is made of lead (Pb), with antimony (Sb) strings, while Halfu’s (Band drummer Half Moon) drums are made of chromium (Cr). We also use a bass guitar made of basic mercury (Hg) which might explain the liquid bass solos. The marimba is made of molybdenum (Mo).

Who Who have recently released their debut CD called Cadmium (Cd). The critically acclaimed songs in the album include: Fragments of Lead, A Man in a Thallium Dress, In the Mercury, Black Widow’s Arsenic and Copper Door.

Their concert was telecast live by the Nickel-odeon channel.

THE CALCUTTA FOOTBALL SONG

Football is the greatest game
Where two teams play for name and fame
And glory (and no little profit!)
Or simply for the great fun of it.

Eleven players play for each side
Some stay central, some run wide.
They strive, they feint, they slog and sweat
To put the ball in the other’s net.

In their midst is a man in black
He has a whistle, his whip to crack;
He controls play as well he can
And ensures fair play to a man.

But when you consider Calcutta
The game’s handled by GG Gutta;
Apparently, his one big aim
Is to shame this glorious game.

Thus fixtures come and fixtures go,
The programme changes ever mo’
He uses pencil – easy rub;
And all to suit a certain club.

He fixes all the referees
To put that club in splendid ease;
The rules are bent with non-chalance
To give that club another chance.

The transfer laws are ignored, too,
To benefit, well, you know who!
Thus, he’s simply put to shame
Football, this fantastic game.

A Lament - Very Impotent

Years ago, when I was young
I thought myself as, oh, well hung,
Until one splendid August's day
I went with Bob to good old Kay.

There I learnt I'm average, just,
But size is not what counts in lust.
I still enjoyed my jive and bounce;
Life was full of ups and downs.

Now I grow old and older still,
The won't gets stronger than the will.
As I await the final thaw,
My member follows Newton's Law.

Freakipedia - Diatribe

Here is the www dot freakipedia dot orgy entry on Diatribe:

Many years ago, in the dim and distant past, there lived a certain tribe which inhabited the desert of Kalahari, long before it even became a desert. The founder of this tribe was Dia-Nosaur. He was awesome. Then he became extinct. The new leader was a strange creature who simply refused to have the tribal drink of honeyed maple syrup. His name was Dia-Betik. He was followed by Dia-Meter, who measured the tribal circle. Then Dia-Gnosis inherited the leadership, and immediately declared himself malignant. He was followed by Dia-Lysis, who added tubes to all the tribal wells. Next came Dia-Orrhea, who let loose, which gave rise to a great stink and the whole tribe became extinct As usual, there was one exception. The exception became an ape, and was known as Harangue Otan for some reason.

All this is part of history, though forgotten. You don’t have to thank me for reviving this particular part of history, I’m doing it as a public service. (Thank you, Paul David of Sydney, NSW.)

Freakipedia - Aubergines

Here is the www dot freakipedia dot orgy entry on Aubergines:

An Aubergine is a large glossy edible fruit commonly used as a vegetable. Scientifically, it is almost always either of two species, Solanum melongena and Solanum esculentum. Both taste peculiar, and in either case, the texture remains spongy. An Aubergine is also known as eggplant or brinjal. Some people call it mad apple, but the mad people call it Baygon, and then promptly make a spray from it to kill cockroaches.

Aubergines are also ethnic people living in Australia. For some strange reason, they are known as Australian Aubergines. They are the ethnic people of Australia, though they were not treated ethically by the non-Aubergine people of Australia. The non-Aubergine people of Australia are called Settlers. There were disputes in their home countries, so they settled in Australia. Now they settle disputes in Australia, unless the disputes are with Australian Aubergines.

The most famous Australian Aubergine during our salad days was Evonne Goolagong. She ate the salad. The Australian Aubergines have rites. They have rights, too, but that is generally disputed by the Settlers while settling their disputes. However RITES is an Indian conglomeration; it has nothing to so with Aubergines, not even Indian Aubergines. In India the Aubergines are indigenous.

Another famous Australian Aubergine is Cathy Freeman. Like Goolagong, she is a woman Aubergine. However, not all Australian Aubergines are women. Senator Aden Ridgeway of the Australian Federal Parliament is very much a man. So is Mandawuy Yunpingu, the lead singer of the rock band Yothu Yindi. But Oodgeroo Noonuccal, the poet, actress, writer, teacher, artist and activist is a woman, in spite of her second name. Nor is she from Calcutta, which goes to show that you can never go by a name. Oodgeroo Noonuccal is also known as Kath Walker.

The cricketer Andrew Symonds looks like an Australian Aubergine, but apparently he is a Settler. When settled, he can be a very destructive. The Australian Aubergines toured England a few times in the 19th century. Later they forgot cricket and concentrated on rites and rights. Only David Wirrpunda played Australian Rules Football with elan.

From Freakipedia - Satyr

I have just discovered www dot freakipedia dot orgy, which is now the only source for authentic knowledge. Needless to say, my funda is increasing in leaps and bounds ever since. Here is the freakipedia entry for satyr:

Satyr is a mythical being from ancient Greece. Satyrs are direct descendants of the Diony-cerous, who were marginally less mythical. Myth is of course a direct descendant of Mithye Kotha, which in ancient Bengali means lie, as in "truth lies everywhere." However it might be wrong to dismiss a satyr as a lie because impossible is nothing as Justine Henin once said so cutely and as some nameless sports-goods manufacturer hijacked equally cutely. A Satyr is usually Hairy, which becomes more confusing, but that's life. A satyr is also lustful and merry, which is because AIDS wasn't invented in those mythical days. But that is why people become lustful and merry on Satyrdays. Lustful also means horny, which explains the satyr's appearance to some extent. Satyr is rural, though satyrs are plural.

Satyr is also a misspelled figure of speech which involves making sarcastic comments cleverly disguised as bull. However it is permitted to replace the bull with a horse which might get one's goat. Irony, derision and wit are mixed in a satyr in equal proportions. When the proportions go awry, a satyr becomes unbalanced. That is exactly when the significance of four legs becomes apparent, though how that affects a figure of speech is a matter of debate and discussion.

The Peanuts Party of India

At last a meaningful new political party is being formed to really take India into this new millennium. It is the Peanuts Party of India (PPI). Its authorised election symbol is to be a paper bag (thonga) of Peanuts. It is a symbol in more senses than one.

For over fifty years independent Indians have been voting to elect different politicians of various parties to the Parliament and to several Legislative Assemblies. For over fifty years they have queued and toiled to vote in poll after poll to elect thousands and thousands of politicians. What have these people got in return of their labour? Peanuts. So now they have the opportunity to stamp on the peanuts symbol. For once the voter shall know (officially) what he or she is voting for.

Then there are the millions of non-voters. What have they done for our great democracy by not voting in election after election? Peanuts. So now they too can come forward and actively take part in the political process and stamp on the peanuts symbol, thereby registering their protests in a meaningful manner. The PPI is the proper vehicle for demonstrating their apathy.

Here are some pertinent points from the PPI manifesto:

• If and when elected to power, the PPI shall instruct all members to sleep soundly. Parliament shall once again become a peaceful place. Suitable legislation shall be passed to make sure that only the Speaker speaks in Parliament. Everyone else shall have to be either listeners, or sleepers.
• The PPI shall repair all pigeon-holes in the Parliament House to prevent infiltration by both sparrows and hawks.
• The PPI shall abolish the Income Tax Department, since the cost of maintaining the Department far exceeds the revenue generated. The money thus saved will be distributed equally among party cadres with the right connections.
• The PPI shall pass legislation to have 100% seats in all educational institutions reserved for the Backward Classes. Each and every citizen of India shall be declared a Backward Class by himself, or herself, and shall be eligible for reservation.
• The PPI shall legalise 'Satta' and collect taxes from these legitimate games, thereby running all 'Satta' Dons out of business. That should give rise to better films from Bollywood.
• The PPI shall disband all police forces, whereby the crime rate in the country should be reduced by 80% in three weeks' time. The money thus saved would be diverted to the poorest country in the world - Switzerland.
• The PPI shall instruct all its ministers to let the government be run by the bureaucrats, which is what happens anyway. The ministers can concentrate fully on wealth collection, thereby contributing meaningfully to the growth in the GDP.
• The PPI shall just do it. Impossible in nothing wrong.

We’ve already had a pee-nut as a PM, so why not a pea-nut?

Competition

Here is a competition for all literary people:

The following poem was found written on the wall of a public toilet many years ago. No one knows who the poet was; there was also no title. However, it is probably one of the finest short poems you are ever likely to read.

THE POEM

Here I sit,
Broken hearted;
Came to shit –
Only farted.

Poetry such as this should not be allowed to die without a title. Readers are requested to read the poem carefully, ponder upon it, scratch their what-nots, and suggest a suitable title for the poem. Unlike the poet’s bowels, this competition is completely open, each reader can suggest as many names as he or she likes.

The competition shall be known as the ENTITLEMENT COMPETITION. We propose to have more such competitions in future. Results would probably be announced on some suitable date.

All the suitable answers will be duly forwarded to Ian Patrick Daley, CEO and General Secretary of I.P.D.L.E. (International Portmanteau for Dissipated Literary Excellence.)

I.P. Daley is someone I greatly admire.

Feel What You Can't See

(With due apologies to Christina Georgina Rossetti)

Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you,
But when there is an awkward noise
The wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I,
But when it smells of rotten eggs
The wind is passing by.

Marxism

Many, many years ago Groucho Marx described politics as, "the art of looking for trouble, finding it, misdiagnosing it, then misapplying the wrong medicine."

In those days people laughed at his wit. A few centuries ago he would have been roasted at the stake, at Salem and elsewhere, for his uncanny foresight. Today he would probably have received the Nobel Prize for Literature. (Truth prevails only in fiction, these days.)

As I re-read Marx’s definition, I realise that we should all be Marxists!!

Make way, Karl!

Bits of History - Koh-i-Noor

In 1857 the Sepoy Mutiny shook the British in India badly; the East India Company was removed as nominal rulers of India and was replaced by the British Crown. However, the famous diamond, Koh-i-Noor, (meaning Mountain of Light) was taken from Lahore (from the child king of Punjab, Maharaja Duleep Singh, son of Maharaja Runjeet Singh) in 1849, eight years before the Mutiny. So it was never really the Jewel in the Crown but it surely became an integral part of the British Crown Jewels, and is still displayed in the Tower of London.

Over the years several Indians have tried to get the Koh-i-Noor back to India, but in vain. As a result, disgusted Indians planned a suitable revenge on the British. They invented a special brand of condom and named it Koh-i-Noor. The Mountain of Light was replaced by the Fountain of Tight.

(But the original wasn’t lubricated, except when swallowed.)

Bits of History - Irish Problem

It was in the Fifth century AD that St. Patrick introduced Christianity to Ireland, or so it is said. He was born in Britain of wealthy parents. His father was a Christian deacon. At the age of 16 he was abducted by some Irish raiders who were attacking his family’s estates. He was taken to Ireland and was a prisoner for six years. During that period he turned to religion and became a devout Christian. He then escaped to Britain where a voice told him in his dreams to go back to Ireland and spread the gospel. For the next 15 years he studied religion vigorously and was finally ordained as a priest. He then returned to Ireland and began to convert the Irish.

Thus it is not strictly true that St. Patrick introduced Christianity to Ireland, but he sure contributed massively to its spread all over Ireland, North and South, thereby giving the Irish a reason to fight each other for ever.

(What were the Irish before they became Christians?)

Bits of History - Pluck Yew

The year was 1415, the scene was the Battle of Agincourt, between the French and the English.

The French, predicting a victory due to overwhelming numbers, bragged that they would cut off the middle finger of any English soldier they captured. Thus it would be extremely difficult for those finger-less men to draw the infamous English longbows in future battles.

The longbow was made from the English yew tree and drawing the weapon became known as "plucking yew."

In a major upset the English defeated the French and the archers mocked them, waving their middle fingers at the enemy, shouting, "See, we can still pluck yew! Pluck yew!"

Over the years "pluck yew" became "f**k you" because it is easier to pronounce, and because chicken farmers objected to the former terminology being given a sexual connotation.

(Then what does ‘plucky’ mean? I wonder!)

New TOPIC

Wherever you discuss anything, at some point there is always a clamour for a new topic. When you take the word 'TOPIC' and write it anew, you get several possible words, some with meaning and some without. We shall examine a few new 'TOPIC's.

TOPIC = COP IT
'Cop it' usually means die. When we say, "Cop it!", we mean, "Die!" or "Perish!" or some such thing. Though 'cop' on its own might mean police, the police may not have any role to play in "cop it" unless it is a case of police brutality to the extreme.

TOPIC = CO PIT
Co-pit is what a pit calls a nearby pit, within the same boundary. A coal pit in a colliery may call another coal pit 'co-pit' instead of 'coal pit' without prejudice.

TOPIC = PICOT
Picot is something to do with needling, when needling stays needling and does not degenerate into ragging. It is actually a series of small embroidered loops forming an ornamental edging on some ribbon and lace. It comes from old French where pic means point and piquer means prick (pique.) No, not that.

TOPIC = TICOP
TICOP is the acronym for Tourism Industry Code of Practice. It is a sensational code, though why sensational, I've forgotten. By this code, guests' satisfaction is monitored regularly, though don't ask me how.

TOPIC = PI COT
This is a cot built in the shape of the Greek letter Pi. Quite a shape, wouldn't you say? The proportions are 22 by 7. However, just as a pi dog is a dog deranged, so the pi cot is better avoided to avoid nightmares.

TOPIC = COPTI
This is an endearing way to call a policeman, as in "Hey, copti, please find me my shoe." The reactions of individual policemen may vary, though. It is better to remember that a touch of a policeman may lead to 36 wounds, so perhaps it's prudent to avoid this particular form of endearment.

TOPIC = OPTIC
Optic is to do with the eye, or vision. However, a man of vision need not be described as an optic man. Also, when we say, he or she is an eyeful, it is better not to describe him or her as an optic person. Otherwise, optic is of or to do with eye or vision.

TOPIC = ICPOT
ICPOT or IC-POT is the acronym of Interexchange Carrier's Point of Termination. It is terrifically exciting in some vague way.
IC-POT is also that quaint brownish piece of fixture that you may find in a toilet aboard an Indian Airlines flight. Don't fear, recent research has shown typing on your computer keyboard may lead to more diseases than sitting on an IC-POT.

TOPIC = TIPCO
At last a word with no apparent meaning, though there is a food company in Thailand called TIPCO.

TOPIC = IPCOT
IPCOT stands for In-Place Consecutive Overseas Tour. It is a military term. It leads to a happy married life.

TOPIC = PIOCT
This is one of those terms which seem to mean something spectacular. However, nothing comes of it.

TOPIC = O PICT
This is how one addressed certain ancient people in Northern Britain. It sounds Shakespearean, but it is actually much older.

TOPIC = OI PCT
This is a rather stern way of addressing PCT, or per cent, also called per centum. One can also address someone from the Pennsylvania College of Technology in the same stern manner.

TOPIC = IC-PTO
This is an integrated circuit where each code is apparently written on the other side, so you just have to keep turning it over. Don’t do this in public, however, you might get committed.

TOPIC = OCTIP
This shall become the acronym for the Oriental College of Technology, Information & Para-medicine, once it is formed.

Dog is God and God is Dog

My friend Baptu is an accountant with J Thomas in Calcutta. One day he was sitting on a park bench (a la Aqualung) with his Racing Guides, trying to forecast some winners for the afternoon races. Suddenly he felt something warm on his right foot. Looking down, he saw a stray dog peeing on his leg. After chasing the dog away, Battu finalised his choices for the afternoon. That day he had five winners in seven races!

Recently Baptu sent a mail to our school mail group lamenting the fact that his form has been miserable of late, compared to that fateful day’s. It seems that on the morning of every race day he now goes with his Guides to that same park bench, but alas, no dog has ever peed on his leg again to turn his luck.

This poem was written in response:

(Is this a doggerel?)

Dog is God

How I wish that dog would pee,
Think how happy I shall be,
Instead, I get 'TALLY 4',
Office seems a dreadful bore.

Accounting for those careless fools,
My brain stagnates, my member drools;
My eyes go bumptiy, bumpity, bump;
Umpteen boils adorn my rump.

Vodka offers no escape,
I can do but smoke and gape,
Or chat with endless unknown men,
Mailing Pointers now and then.

So I pray, "Dog, come, please pee.
Make me rich as Croesus be,
Remove this awful, fundless fog."
Dog is God and God is dog.

"O dog, come! Release your pee!
Let the jackpot embrace me,
So I can go sleep like a log."
Dog is God and God is dog.