Going grimestestestestestest………..

Why are people like this?

No idea. (As if he has enough ideas otherwise! Hmm)

Anyhow I should know of such things, being a “writer”!

(Who in the hell hole fixed such a title on me oh Lord?)

Guys tell me, what the hell is a writer? Take pity on me, because I am totally bamboozled by it, never saw the genus in my life. Is it some kind of mutant with several heads and hands? Then may be Ravan in the epics was a writer, he had ten heads and enough hands to match, I am yet to hear of him composing anything though, seems to have only discomposed Siva and Parvathy while they were engaged in ……in …. Well……you know what….. Ahem…. in the (pro) creation of the universe……

He took up mount Kailas, the abode of Siva in his hands and juggled with it. Siva was pleased as any man would be in the circumstances; a little outside assistance in such matters is always welcome.

Show me a man who doesn’t like his girl clinging to him in fear, especially at the time of doing their ‘duty by the nation’ (as George Orwell said) then I will show you Santa Claus, not fake mind you, in flesh and blood.

Machismo is a thing that we guys go for in a galactic way.

As English ladies would have said:

It’s the truly ‘bloke thing’. (I like the way they say it. They roll it with the tongue, that ‘bloke’; it comes out sweet and soft and terribly endearing.)

Such moments are rare and far in between in a man’s life. You just can’t go off and pick up brawls with others to show your girl that you are macho, can you, only the most intelligent do it nowadays; they mostly end up in jails.

The rest of the unintelligent species have to wait for some minor natural calamity to occur for their chance.

That’s the opportunity to say inanities like:

Don’t you worry sweetum, there is nothing to be afraid of, I am here, ain’t I?

(The girl, though frightened, would be laughing on the insides, ha ha ha, what did he do when that goon stared him down the other day?)

Some girls would show much more spirit, saying:

You know what, that’s exactly what I am worried about. Aren’t you going out and checking?

My wife does it all the time. Wisely I wouldn’t budge. Words are one thing, life is another thing altogether, she might get another loafer to marry again, but I would not get my life back.

It is much safer inside your house on a night than anywhere else in the strange uncanny world outside.

Anyway, I was talking about something very serious in the beginning. Let us hop back to that.

Why are people like this?

Take for instance the case of Seaweed, he is perfectly convinced that he is about to resign very soon; (of course he means not himself in this case, he would rather eat crap than do that).

He is our current Krishna in the office. The guy is said to have a way with women, the girls in the office are also emphatic that he knows the way!

The girl sitting nearest to me is quite proud of the fact too, may god bless her.

They are the experts aren’t they? Girls? So we would not discuss that. I still lose my way somewhat with my dearest wife when we do it, so I need to respect the guy without any inhibitions.

He is the current super star of skits in the office (Some don’t like this “Office“ of mine, so let us call it the cowshed from now on)

Any way skits are daily organized by the slimy friends inside the cowshed.

First, Karuppachan (Our indefatigable Driven- words ending with ‘r’ are plural in our language, so Driver is Plural Driven is singular as wonderful humorist VKN used to say) would make an entrance with some subtle remarks, intended as the gist of that day’s skit.

I now call him the ‘Sutradhar’. (The actor who presents the plot in Sanskrit plays.)

Then several characters would make entries, I admire the way the skits are enacted, even tones are carefully modulated, the whole settings would be carefully arranged, they usually move the furniture to suit their purpose.

There would be several summons for me from the Madam, the first thing is to divert my attention to some spurious things so I would be taken aback while the skit is being played.

I ignore such summons mostly, after querying her by way of mental telepathy.

The dialogue would go like this.

What is urgent? I will ask her.

(You need to know that all higher officials have some magnetism, and would respond if you query them on the inside. That comes with leadership qualities.)

She would say.

First you come.

I would say,

Not now my dear, I am engaged in something important, may be some time later.

Then she would send peons. (Peons only exist in India, they are very proud of their existence too. They now call themselves Class Four Officers)

You are being called.

I would smile at them.

In a minute my man, this will take just a minute.

He will go. After a while there would be a loud ringing of buzzers.

Another peon would come following that, repeating her summons.

I will say.

I was called? Oh, my god I forgot all about that, tell her that I will be there in a minute.

The technique is to be nice always. Never lose your cool. All the while I will be interrogating her telepathically.

What you want my dear?

She has a tolerably strong mind and wouldn’t divulge details. In fact women are more magnetic than men and know how to use it for their ends. I have met only very few men who have very strong minds. Others are just malleable notwithstanding the great importance they give themselves.

In her calls there would be nothing important, you can make anything important or not important by paying attention to it. A silly reminder could assume paramount importance in official life if correctly manipulated, at the same time the most serious of things could be pushed under the carpet if studiously ignored by all concerned.

Here she wants to drop something on to me to make me busy so that the skit would go on as planned.

The trick is to avoid that by all means. Despite my experience in such battles and the comparative strength of mind there are sticky situations in which you would come only second best in life if you jump into them without thinking.

So play for time, time is the factor which decides the outcome in any mental battle, it’s the best weapon in fact, if you can manipulate time to suit your interests others would start to feel the heat building up their funny womanish undersides. (This is no derogation of women; it’s only a classification of human traits)

They would start behaving like bitches in heat, moaning, getting impatient, restless, that’s when you strike. You face them head on while their defenses are down.

They got so impatient today that they started their skit without getting over the preliminaries and they were going to lose.

They brought in a guest artist and started their skit by his long harangue about what to be done to his dung (read files). This when no communications are directly received by our cowshed from the public and they have little right to state their case without being asked as we are a referral set up.

The guest artist started to ‘sing’ loudly without intermission, he went on for three hours like that( tremendous lung power) raising voice, giving directions, getting up a temper, losing cool, advancing demands, all the time making sure that he is near me, and touching me almost, being a cowshed one can’t oust him from there.

If I was doing something “urgent” as they planned for me, I could have been drawn in and become irritated as the time goes by. But as I was prepared I took up a pencil and began a tattoo on my table in the rhythm they use in trance inducing sessions all over the world, interspersing it with mental commands to the players now and then.

They got so fucked up by it that they tried to play their last card.

It’s a scent which begins as a mild invigorating one and brings on the head ache by its persistence, pumped out in various degrees of severity. Well this was tough, every one made they scarce from the scene as the scent was introduced.

This was the last card.

I knew that they were done for, so started on a yoga breathing technique which utilizes only the mouth temporarily closing the nostrils off. They persisted with the scent for an hour or so hoping that I would get a splitting head ache from it.

They could not continue it any longer because the cowshed being a public concern others could not be absent from their seats for long periods of time.

You should have seen their faces in the evening. It went like, grim, grimmer, grimmest, grimestest grimestestest grimestestestestestest………..