Who Needs Crabby Poetry

There is something about kids’ poetry that grabs me. For starters it is almost always funny and as far as I can make out the poet is not a pretentious twat. And even if he is, he is pretty darned good at not coming across as one. Though some poetry is fairly dark – Nash for instance.

Honestly what is with these wannabe poets who insist on bombarding the world with their crabby cribs? Am I interested in your shitty upbringing and Freudian complexes? I should hope not. I have problems of my own and these I write in a ridiculous outdated diary that will never be publicly unveiled let alone find its way into a blog.

Seriously unless you have a medical condition that requires community help, spare me. If you have to kill yourself, I advise electrocution.

Silly rhyme favourites: Shel Silverstein, Lewis Carroll, Ogden Nash and a whole lot more. And if we ever get to books : HH Munroe (SAKI) and Oscar Wilde any day of the year. And yes I do read Eliot and Shakespeare’s sonnets mostly because I have my second year MA to complete. Check my previous post. I never did find Wodehouse witty - silly yeah. Sue me.

I'll share your toys, I'll share your money,

I'll share your toast, I'll share your honey.

I'll share your milk, and your cookies too,

The hard part is sharing mine with you.

© Shel Silverstein

Celery, raw

Develops the jaw,

But celery, stewed,

Is more quietly chewed.

© Ogden Nash

Pluto Demoted

It's official now, Pluto has been demoted, stripped of its elite planetary status. (See Previous Post) Lumped with the lowly, Pluto now bears the title of the politically incorrect 'dwarf' planet.

My Very Educated Mother can heave a sigh of relief, she will not be pointing out dwarf planets like Pluto, Charon, the aesteroid blah blah in the near future.

For the moment 'My Very Educated Mother Just Showed Us Nine'.

Cosmic Chaos

My Very Educated Mother Just Showed Us Nine Planets. Surely one can never forget one’s planets unless one is American.

If 2003 UB313 is to be a planet, and Pluto is not, if Pluto’s moon is to be a planet as is the asteroid Ceres what in the high heavens will my very educated mother show me?

Is Pluto a planet or just a rocky lump of ice -these and other universe altering questions are keeping astronomers and sky gazers in a tizzy not to mention printers, publishers and billions of kiddies who will have to come to terms with the fact that the Solar Sytem has not nine, not 12 but perhaps a whole truckload of planets.

The cosmic chaos started with the discovery of 2003 UB313 (aka Xena) – larger and farther away than Pluto. Then came the International Astronomical Union (IAU) decision to DEFINE a planet. (Apparently a large-sized round object orbiting the Sun that got us through Grade 1 is not good enough).

Whatever, but I sure as hell hope they have someone ready with a neat mnemonic before they unveil the Universe’s new additions.

For the record, more Americans can identify Superman’s home planet than name the planet nearest the Sun. And in other weird space news, the Chinese Government is blasting seeds into space in the hopes that cosmic radiation modifies the seeds which in turn will improve the crop yield back on Earth. Some 2,000 seeds are saddling up for a two week mission aboard the Chinese satellite Shijian-8.

Do it Like the Chinese

A friend of mine swears by acupressure for her real (and imagined) ailments. She gets tips on the phone. Apparently simply kneading fingers has set right what modern science and an MD in medicine couldn't.
Duly impressed, I rummaged around for my acupressure fix - a certain pair of Chinese spherical shaped objects which I could define in a far easier word but this is not one of those blogs.

Anyway, these objects are called health um..spheroids and rotating them in the palm of your hand strengthens your immune system, relaxes wrought muscles and generally gives you a feeling of calm strength. They also make this pleasant chiming sound that is quite yummy. Acupressure set to music that calls for only hands-on experience. Super.

So far I have put in ten minutes of rolling the spherical shaped objects whilst reading the newspaper - Inclusive of 2 minutes of dropping them with resounding thuds. I stare at the little silk box, admire the painted spheres and try to get my fingers off the keyboard long enough to relax them in what the pamphlet claims are ‘miraculous ways’. I feel healthy and immune to trivial ailments. There is something about red silk and ancient China. Imagination aside, this ought to go a long way in making my fingers more agile - All the better to type dear.

For the record Tata Broadband sucks, I am constantly having connectivity problems and worse, they have a monopoly in this part of the world. Here’s the latest - I registered a complaint for an error 691 (an authentication problem at their end) since then I have got an error 619, error 718, a remote computer doesn’t respond, an error 678 and some other crap that I am hoping the great virtual dustbin swallows up. I have run the entire gamut of Tata Broadband error messages. Am I blessed or what?!

Give Me My Monopoly

Monopoly is about the money - those tired tattered notes that you sneaked out of the ‘bank’ when the banker wasn’t looking. Those ridiculous little red and green house-hotels, the silver shoe that no one wanted to be, the train stations and the coveted real estate....our games stretched endlessly, sometimes lasting more than a day. And when night came, the responsible banker would stash away the loot while we of weak moral fiber plotted on how best to raise siege. As Monopoly celebrates its 70^th anniversary, some bright spark figured the game needed a facelift.

So they axe the money.

THE money.

There will be debit cards – Visa branded. It’s easier taking over a board game than ensuring James Bond puts it on his Visa. Oh and did I mention there is a (Visa) branded electronic card reader to record all transfers. That’s exactly what we want, a board game that needs batteries.

Why the new Monopoly might just work
- The debit card is realistic enough to be swiped at Life Style.
- The electronic reader, worth a few dollars, can be doctored to read all cards (thanks Korula)
- The shoe is being replaced by a mobile phone. One doesn't mind being a mobile phone..I think.

Why the new Monopoly won’t work
- Looting a bank vs punching in numbers...punching numbers is so much more fun.
- "How the hell did you become a zillionaire?" "Er..I must have hit 0 twenty two times."
- Batteries for a board game. Batteries that you will most likely flick from your remote. And we know how that ends.

Where are the Soviet Books?

Last night I sat up flipping through books I grew up with – figuratively speaking. I was digging them out for a kid I like. This was a stab at re-educating her and showing her Blyton and Rowling aren’t the only ones. There they were – the What Katy Dids and the Little Women and the Black Beauties. And right behind were the Russian books. Yup I am from back when 'Faraway Tree' was still, well faraway.

When I was 6-7 the only English books available were the horrible IBH productions or the gorgeous, illustrated books procured from floating Soviet circuses and travelling book exhibitions. I am linguistically challenged so obviously they were translated versions. ‘The Adventures of Dennis - Twenty Years Under the Bed’ (Victor Dragunsky) and ‘When Daddy was a Little Boy’. They are stories about real boys, kids who know how daft grown-ups can be. Man, I love them…and you know there is nothing childish about these books. I can read them again and again, and I learn something new - mostly what sort of grown-up I ought not to be.

None of that flying broomstick shit, no fluffies, no slave elfs and none of that hogwart hogwash, these are kids the way they used to make ‘em. Before the telly and the Internet. The kid I once was – cept I wasn’t a boy. Where are these Russian authors? Were they deported for their insidious views? Or do they thumb through their books and reminisce on life behind the Iron Curtain. Where are the ‘Uncle’ books?

I cannot believe I actually found The Adventures of Dennis online. God Bless Google. Read this chapter

Rain Plays Tricks

I live in a house that doesn’t spring leaks. My first in six years of being associated with the Navy. My joy finds an outlet – mostly of the gloating and nodding sagely while others moan nature.

My cupboards are not soaked in three inches of water, I am not airing out clothes after a hard day’s work and best of all the walls are not crumbling cream cheese. North Andhra Pradesh is caught in the throes of a cyclone that beat's Mumbai's rains hollow any day of the year. Seriously. I lived in Mumbai for over 5 years and this is my first season in AP.

My half chewed pencil and Internet Radio (GOD BLESS VIRGIN CLASSIC ROCK) keep me company as I gaze at my computer screen waiting for the elusive muse to come knocking. Two deadlines, three story ideas and the germ of a book, that my friend says I ought to nurture lovingly (until it grows into a full blown virus) torment me. But it’s all good. Like fishing last weekend in turbid harbour waters from a barge. Ignoring the huge green board that says 'Anyone caught fishing will be prosecuted'. Four of us spotting fish that trail enticingly around our bait but refuse to fall for it. Bagging red worms from the localites and not catching a thing. Except for my friend who caught a paavum fish ...so paavam we had to let it go. Chatting about that camping trip to Araku now that the rains have set in.

Visions of holidays yet to be taken. Anandamans or Arunachal and getting more ambitious - Turkey or Italy? I want to go to Coorg again in December and I want to drive down the Konkan coast. Or perhaps go back to Dharamsala and of course Palolem in the spring, the rains, the summers!

Mundane, stick-in-the-mud good sense prevails - the bane of my existence. Will settle for a camping trip to Araku, 100 kms from here or another fishing expedition preferably in cleaner waters. Definitely month end. There are no takers besides one friend and Anand who really has no choice. Ashwini is leaving for France to learn wine-making. We had some good times - from Lakshadweep to Solang Valley, I will miss her.

As for the other Navy folk here - they give dishwater a complex. I miss Mumbai and the hordes of people I knew who were game for camping and trekking during the monsoons. I miss the ghats and the ghads.