MONKEY MENACE

When you wake up to find yourself face to face with a monkey, there’s no room for anything in your mind other than pure shock, and the only thing you can think of is to chase it away and escape without being bitten or scratched. It happened to me the other day, when I woke up to find a huge monkey peering in at me through my open balcony door. I had left it open so that the breeze would lessen the stifling heat of a surprisingly sultry Bangalore night, but rather than welcoming some cool air, all the open door did was issue an invitation to a big, fat monkey to admire a sleeping beauty.

Needless to say, I became a screaming beast after the reality of what I was seeing reached my half-awake brain. The monkey vanished from sight on hearing me yell, and I ran to bolt the balcony door with a sigh of relief. As I stood there, I heard a noise from the kitchen that raised the beating of my heart to thunderous proportions, and with a sinking feeling realized that the door leading to the other balcony from the kitchen was also open, and that the monkey was now inside the house. When I peered around the corner into the kitchen, it was at the dustbin, looking for leftovers to eat. No amount of shooing and banging doors budged him from giving his entire attention to scrounging for something to eat.

Things got worse when he turned his beady eyes to where I was, and disdainfully bounded into the living room, and straight on to the corner table which must have looked very appealing to him with all the shiny knickknacks like keys and mobiles scattered on it. As I watched with wary eyes from my post inside the room, half head out and the rest of me safely behind the door, he picked up the very thing I didn’t want him to notice – a shiny packaged box that contained in it one very, very expensive Swatch watch. It was meant to be a gift for a dignitary who was supposed to visit our office the next day, and now, it had become a toy for this self-crowned king of my home who was examining it carefully with his chubby paws. I prayed fervently that the monkey wouldn’t end up making a monkey out of me at office – how could I go in and explain that a monkey had made off with the watch? It sounded suspicious even to my ears, much like stories of dogs eating one’s homework.

And to my horror of horrors, the thing I wanted most and the thing I dreaded most, happened simultaneously – the monkey scampered outside the room and to the balcony just as I had been praying it would, but it carried away more than ten grand worth of goods that didn’t even belong to me. I ran to the kitchen with my heart in my mouth, and to my immense relief, saw the package abandoned near the dustbin. I rushed to get the door closed and bolted, and a few days after that, monkey-proofed the grill on the balcony with GI wire to ensure that I would never have to wake up to simian intruders again.

But I did wake up to many more monkeys, all of them monkeys on my back. They’re the ones that sneak in through the doors of doubt that you leave open in your mind; they stare you in the face as soon as you open your eyes each morning, and remind you of the burdens you must bear every day. They induce a deep fear in you, fear that you will be scarred and hurt by your cares and worries. They run when you shout at them to go away, yet they worm their way in through the other doors you’ve left open – low confidence, fear of change, and wanting to please others all the time.

They feed off the garbage in your mind, heart and soul, and they look for everything that’s shiny and new and nice inside you and in your world, so that they can make off with it. And if you don’t step out from your hiding place behind the walls of fear and mistrust, you could end up losing all that’s good in your life. Unless you’re extremely lucky that is, and the monkey drops off your back, and also drops off the hopes and dreams it’s about to carry away, into your being.

I guess the need of the hour is to monkey-proof myself, so that any monkey that thinks of climbing on my back and being a millstone around my neck, faces an extremely slippery challenge posed by my confidence in my capabilities, my never-say-die attitude, my heartfelt hope that every tomorrow dawns bright and sunny, my optimism that life can only get better, the unquestionable love and support I receive from my family and friends, and my unwavering faith in God. 

Find the Number (This is a game where the answer is a 10-digit mobile number. Each clue gives you one number)

Count up to me and we’re all unique

Go beyond, and then you’ll see

How we have to combine and repeat

To form all the numbers - one to infinity!

I’m usually the sign that dawn is nigh

After me, the sun climbs up in the sky

I’m more than halfway down the line

But in a dozen I’m half, and that should tell you just fine!

I may be little, I may be small

But yet I’m able to stand tall

Because all that’s even is based upon me

Take me out of the system and only odd you’ll see!

I’ll tell you who I am loud and clear

I’m part of a sweet teenage year

If you still have doubts here’s another clue

Seven times me is forty-two!

I’m one of the numbers on a die

To find me out, hard you must try

I can’t be formed with just one hand

Three of me and I’m the devil’s brand!

Perhaps this is the easiest clue

If you know a little, you’ll know me too

I’m not a wonder of any kind

But think wonders of the world and I result in mind!

I am born when the sun meets the rain

I stretch across the sky like a curving train

I end at a pot of gold, or so they say

The number of my colors is the answer today!

I rhyme perfectly with another

It’s four more than me, so please be clever

One that’s like two sticks placed side by side

Do the math correctly and then decide!

Multiply any number by me

Add the digits that result and you’ll see

It’s not magic though it seems to be

How I turn up as the answer and solve the mystery

I feature in this game many a time

So much so that it’s hard to find a rhyme

I’m almost a right angle, upside down

That should tell you who I am, so please don’t frown!

NB - I wrote this game for an event that I recently hosted. Whoever could figure out the number from the clues and dial it first was the winner.

Contact Information

He couldn’t believe his luck – the PYT he had been ogling while waiting for his boarding announcement was not only on the same flight, but in the seat right next to him. He checked his boarding pass again to make sure he had the seat number right and that God wasn’t playing a cruel joke on him. No, he was spot on, and he had to stop his face from widening into a smile at the thought that he had the next two hours to work his charm on her and establish some form of contact – of course, he would initially settle for some personal information but his ultimate goal was the physical kind.

He would never in a million years admit it, but a small part of his mind did think he was God’s gift to women; his drop-dead good looks and killer smile were inherited of course, but he did take credit for all the smooth talking that his silver tongue was capable of. After all, he had worked on perfecting it for the better part of two years.

They say opposites attract, but he believed in setting his sights on birds of the same feather – any woman he chased would naturally be slim, beautiful, and well-endowed in all the right places. This one was downright gorgeous, even by his high standards, and he couldn’t wait to get started.

An hour later, he was nearing desperation - the cat had got his tongue and left him a mute spectator! No, he hadn’t lost his gift of the gab, but how was a guy supposed to get fresh with a woman when she spent the whole 60 minutes crying? From the minute he turned to her to strike up a conversation, he saw the tears flowing down her face. She tried to hide them and wipe them away, but they kept up a steady flow. She closed her eyes and lay back against the seat as if to get some sleep, still the tears leaked through and ran down her face.

Unfortunately for him, for all the multiple talents his tongue possessed, he still hadn’t learned how to stop a woman’s tears – well, at least not how to stop them from morphing into an angry, stinging slap. He flinched as he recalled the time he assumed a crying woman was easy bait – he had ended up with more than egg on his face. He certainly didn’t want a repeat in front of a plane-full of people, so he didn’t push his luck.

It was time to land, and he resigned himself to another one that got away. However, his curiosity was kindled by the speed with which she got off the plane and headed for the baggage carousel. Was she expecting someone there? Is that why she was crying the whole time? He quickened his pace and kept up with her. No, she didn’t seem to be running into anyone’s arms or even expecting anyone – all her eyes were on was the stream of luggage on the belt.

She grabbed her bag, put it on the trolley, and hurriedly opened it. What on earth was she searching for that was so important it had to be done in the middle of a busy airport, he wondered! The answer was apparent in a few minutes, as was the reason for her tears!

He shook his head in disbelief and tried not to listen to the voice that screamed he was losing his touch, but he had to agree as he saw her pulling out her contact lenses and putting on a stylish pair of glasses before she walked away, tearless and gorgeous as ever!

Fruits

Some are big and some are small

Fruits are loved by one and all

Different shapes and colours we take

Yet health our priority we do make!

A few of us are here today

To dance for you and have our say

Admire our colors and applaud our acts

We’re here to give you some fruity facts!

An apple a day is said to keep the doctor away

This small red fruit holds so much sway

Cut it into slices and eat one by one

Or just bite into a full one until you’re done!

Bananas are bright, cheerful and yellow

They make you happy, healthy and mellow

Each has a different shape and size

Eat one a day to show you’re wise!

A strawberry comes in a luscious red

It’s sweet and juicy and has a green head

Jams and ice creams love this flavour

Oh yum, what a wonderful treat to savour!

Sweet and sour and of many a use

I’m relished as a fruit and more as a juice

I may be an orange but I’m sometimes yellow

For your Vitamin C needs, I’m just the right fellow!

I’m a fruit that many can share

Eat a whole of me if you dare

I may be just a humble watermelon

But a slice of me sure tastes like heaven!

What’s this I see when I remove the peel?

Is it a cluster of rubies, that’s how they feel

These bright red pearls are a treasure trove of health

And this makes the pomegranate a symbol of wealth!

I get teased for not being very sweet

But I’m very healthy and that’s why I’m neat

Vitamins and nutrition are my claim to fame

I’m green and orange and Papaya’s my name!

They call me a pineapple and I know

That if you remove my skin I can show

How good I taste with salt or sugar

Eat a slice of me to gain new vigour!

Grapes come in purple and in green

They’re sweet or sour, and sometimes in between

We use grapes to make juice and wine

And that’s why these tiny fruits are just divine!

They’re around for just a few months of the year

But delicious they are when they’re here

This seasonal fruit is a universal delight

Bite into a mango and you’ll see I’m right!

This poem was written for my friend Uma, for her school's Annual Day programme

A Collection of Recollections

They tumbled down from the shelf above, and as I realized what they were, memories that were buried deep inside came tumbling back. I sat down on the floor amidst the pile of paper strewn around me – some were faded, some were torn, and some were still as fresh as the day they had been sent. To anyone passing by, they would have appeared to be just a pile of junk; but to me, they represented an era gone by, one which the current generation is very unfortunate to have never known.

Letters were a part of my life for more than two decades, from the time I went away to boarding school at the age of six, until the day a monster called email sneaked up from nowhere and obliterated them forever. I don’t recall the first one I ever received, but I’m sure it was from my mom – she wrote to me and my siblings religiously every week, up until the time we went away to college and she could call us over the phone. And over the years, I got into the habit of keeping the ones that had special meaning – the ones from a dear friend who would spend her waiting time at airports to write me thick letters - pages and pages that were written on both sides, the ones from a favorite teacher who wrote to me up until the day she succumbed to the ravages of cancer, the greeting cards that were sent for birthdays but which doubled as letters because they had every inch of free space written over, the very rare letters from my dad which I both wanted and didn’t want because I knew if he was writing to me, it was only because mom was not well enough to do so and she would insist that dad keep up her weekly tradition, the card from a high school crush which conveyed much more than the few words written on it signified, the letters from my cousins who were only writing because they wanted the latest gossip from their sisters in the all-girls school right next to their all-boys school, the ones from old best friends you had to leave behind because you moved to another school, bittersweet because you knew you missed each other even though they were making new friends just as you were, and many, many more.

There was an unexplainable joy in receiving letters – they reminded you that you featured in someone’s thoughts, someone who took the trouble and time to put pen to paper and write you a few words. While at school, it was always lunch time when the letters were handed out, and you could visibly discern the anticipation or disappointment on the faces around you – the former couldn’t wait to tear open the envelope and read what was written inside while the latter had to resign themselves to wait another day for news from loved ones.

And today, we are stuck with email; not that I have anything against email – in fact, it’s a great way for faster and almost-instant communication – just that it has no personality and does not generate the same excitement that letters did. There’s no distinguishable handwriting, no fancy letter paper and scented envelopes, and nothing other than the address to tell you who it’s from. And in what seems like an irony, the quicker email always contains less news than the slowpoke letter – it’s as if people don’t have time to share news anymore, even though they save tons of it through instant communication.

I felt a wave of nostalgia wash over me as I read a few from my collection again – some showed signs of having been read again and again over the years, some had tear stains that had made the ink run and washed away many of the words, and some brought a smile to my lips as I remembered the circumstances under which they had been written.

Nostalgia is a funny thing – we yearn for the good old days even as we know there is no going back. Instant food may not taste as great as that which has been prepared from scratch, using ingredients that were freshly ground using mortar and pestle, but who has the time or the inclination today to go to so much trouble to prepare a single meal? We’ve learned to compromise, we’ve adjusted to change, and we’re going along with the flow so we don’t get left behind. And so we’re resigned to using email, Facebook, IM, phone calls and text messages today to stay connected, and we have to accept that there will soon come a time when we’re going to become nostalgic about these forms of communication too because they’re sure to be replaced with something more sophisticated and innovative.

They say you shouldn’t live in the past, but when your past is filled with wonderful memories, it’s not a crime to take a peek into the treasure chest you’ve saved those recollections in, from time to time, and smile to yourself or share them with a loved one. My collection of letters may fade with the passage of time, but the memories they evoke will remain evergreen for as long as I live!

Temptation…

I had never been plagued by guilt this strong; I had always believed I was made of sterner stuff, that I was not the kind of guy to give in to temptation no matter how blatantly it stared me in the face. Yet here I was, drawn against my will by the way she looked - it was lust at first sight, and I knew I had to have her. I wasn’t going to take no for an answer or listen to my conscience which tried to pull me back – the little voice reminded me that I was a married man and that my wife would be furious if she found out, yet I rudely shoved it aside.

I couldn’t take my eyes away as she beckoned to me with her sexy body; she was dark, not the type I usually go for, but then again, there was something special about her. I edged closer, and tentatively reached out to touch her – she felt silky smooth beneath my fingers. I ached to see what she looked like with nothing on, and hesitantly began to take it all off. She didn’t stop me, and when I held her for the first time, I knew I had made the right decision.

How could something that felt this right be so wrong? She was not just eye candy – Oh, how she could perform! She responded with gay abandon to my touch, and as my fingers danced on her lightly, I could feel her begging me to do more. They say first dates are slow and steady, but I went all out that day – there was no smooth seduction or hesitant moves, I literally tried her out in every possible way. It was the only way I could justify her to my conscience.

Once I was thoroughly satisfied, I walked out with her. There was no other way to break this to my wife other than to show her why I had broken my promise. And unless she saw her beauty, unless she saw for herself how I felt when I looked at her and held her, she would never understand what drove me to this conclusion. I know it will be hard on her to share me with someone else, but maybe if I promise to spend just the minimum amount of time with my new passion, my wife might just let me keep my shiny new BlackBerry!

And the Walls of Doubt Came Tumbling Down…

He looked into the rearview mirror and checked his face for telltale signs before brushing off his clothes to remove any stray hairs. He put on his assertive attitude, the one he adopted during business meetings to get a head start over the competition even before the wheeling and dealing had begun; in his book, going on the offensive was the only way to avoid being pushed to the defensive. As he walked in the door, he tried not to tiptoe – his late arrival from the office coupled with his deferential behavior and a few rumors on the local grapevine had incited his wife’s wrath a few days ago, and he did not want a repeat of the scene she had created.

Even as he had categorically denied an affair with his secretary, his mind could not help but remember her lush curves, come-hither eyes and silky smooth skin, all of which he had thoroughly enjoyed hardly an hour earlier. When his wife had refused to calm down in spite of his denials and pleas, he decided to change tack to regain control over the situation. His voice had radiated confidence as he firmly stated that he was not having an affair, and that if she chose to believe otherwise, she was welcome to leave him. He was particularly proud of his voice breaking a little towards the end when he switched to the role of the victim and sank to the sofa with his head in his hands, as if to bemoan his wretched life with a wife who did not trust him. He didn’t know whether she bought it, but at least it bought him some peace and quiet for the rest of the night.

He looked around the living room and waited for the explosion he knew was coming; he was much later coming home today and he doubted his wife would buy the story of a business meeting that ran to 1 am. His brain had warned him that he was asking for trouble, but other parts of his body took control and he lost track of the time yet again.

A light in the dining room made him gravitate to the dinner table, and the sight of his wife asleep with her head on the table gave him a jolt. She awoke at the sound of his footsteps, and her face broke into a huge smile. He instinctively shrank back as she came over to give him a hug (was she trying to smell her on him?). She broke into mundane chatter about her day as she went around getting his dinner warmed up and setting out a plate and cutlery for him. His mind began to race even as it completely forgot the speech he had prepared to justify his late homecoming - Why is she not yelling at me? Why is she being so nice to me?

A new emotion overtook him and raced through his blood; there was only one explanation for her strange behavior – she was up to something behind his back and all this was a way of covering up her indiscretion. The bitch!!! She was trying to throw him off track! Well, not for long, he thought. And as soon as she went to bed, he was rifling through her phone and computer for any stray text messages or emails that would offer proof of her philandering ways!

And in the room next door, she smiled as she thought to herself - the best way to bring down the walls of doubt was to raise a few of your own - before she fell into a deep and peaceful slumber for the first time in months!