Tag Archive | humour

‘Open the can’

No, you can’t have that’, I said snatching the packet from the son’s hand.

But I want it’, said he.

NO, I said

‘Who said I have one kid’, mumbled the better half who proceeded to go down on his knees and explain to the brat why one more Super  Lego was not allowed to him.

I never remember the Man ever going on his knees for me ever but that’s another story.  But then He never proposed to me.

The brat agreed. The man gave me a ‘look’

I shrugged and carried on with my shopping.

A lady passed by, her trolley piled up high. I just stared at her. The Man nudged me and I came back, ‘Must be her monthly provision’, I said.

‘Must be her weekly,’ he remarked, ‘that’s dependence on processed foods’, He said.

I nodded and carried on. My mind conjured up images of how free I would be if I just opened up cans. How much time I would have to sit on my laptop and publish posts after posts…..

‘Why are you smiling like that’, the man said.

‘From today we too will live the open can way’, I said and began popping cans into my cart.


I was busy typing when my friend Trisha popped in. ‘What are you doing’, she drawled.

‘Oh writing’, I said happily.

‘I am hungry, what do you have …..’, she began

‘Would you like some pizza, I will just defrost some’……

‘Pizza? You didn’t make any breakfast’, she said.

The hubby had some baked beans in tomato sauce, the son had some toast, we could have some pizza’, I said

She made a face, ‘I was hoping for some idlis in hot sambar or some rice noodles….’

‘I have a life too…who has tome to cook’, I said

‘oh yes ….you have to type out posts which nobody reads any ways.’, she said rolling her eyes.

‘Excuse me’, I screamed,’ You can look at my stats….it is booming’, I said.

‘Alright. I am going to have some breakfast at Sangeetha’s. Care to come?’, she asked

Visions of Sangeetha’s mini tiffin loomed in front of my eyes, those mini idlis and masala dosa, the sheera , the sambar…….

‘Are you’, she asked loudly.

My pride, ah my foolish pride…’No’, I said.

I felt hungry and so I took out a pizza. I defrosted it in the microwave but it felt lumpy. Processed refined flour is no competition to hot sambar is it? As I stuffed it inside my mouth I felt morose.

I checked my stats. It was not much of a change. In five days I had posted five posts and the comments received were…five….in total.

Visions of Sangeetha’s mini tiffin still loomed in front of my eyes.



It was almost two pm when the brat and the hubby arrived. The brat sniffed and said, ‘Hmmmm something nice…..what ma, what have you cooked’.

‘methi malai mattar and some paratha’, the MAN replied. I tell you he must have been a police dog in his previous life.

I beamed.

‘Yay’, the boy yelled, ‘finally some good food after eating out of cans for a week’.

‘just five days’, I corrected.

‘Come lets tuck in’, the man said, ‘before another season of ‘opening the can’ begins’, he said.

And we sat down to eat.

Well I am a writer but we need food to eat, don’t we. And for us at least we need proper cooked food, no can for us, none at all.

* fiction

A ‘plumber’ called Raghu

Raghu is a plumber. Well not exactly a plumber but a helper to a man who is a plumber. Generally Raghu sits in the shop waiting for an odd customer to walk in. And when there is a major problem he accompanies his ‘Boss’. In that way he has gathered some knowledge of plumbing.

‘Hey Raghu’, his friend Kisen came in one day, ‘ I am planning to get into maintainance of buildings. I know about electric repairs and all. Do join me as I need a plumber…..’

The idea was fascinating.  Being one’s own Boss, Wasn’t it enticing. And he nodded his yes.  The ‘Boss’ said, Raghu, do you know enough to start on your own?’

‘Huh, you are jealous aren’t you?’, he said and he pulled his chin up, threw his lungi down and walked away majestically.

‘Errr, do you know what you are doing. I mean, we have two kids to look after’, his wife said nervously.

‘Woman, I know what I am doing’, he said loudly.

And so their business started. Initially they got contract for 2 buildings then five and life was never better. He got new furniture, new jewellery for his wife.

‘Will it not be better if we invest a little for a rainy day’, his wife asked.

‘Rainy day, what rainy day. Enjoy your life woman,’ he said.

One day the pipe in a building burst and the whole building was flooded. An investigation revealed faulty plumbing. Kisen said it was not his department, Raghu said that the pipe was faulty; go arrest the manufacturer. No, the inspector said the estimates were wrong. You are at fault.



Raghu  is a watchman now. His wife a maidservant. Their kids… well they must be loitering around somewhere.

Jingle singer

Ronny and Poppy had been living together. She liked him because he was so dependable. He liked her because she was always there for him.  They had a open relationship which meant that he could ogle  other women and she could whistle at other men. She did not like that he did not spend as much time with her as much as she wanted. He disliked her habit of singing jingles.

Jingles; you may ask.  Yes, jingles. Like if he was going to brush his teeth, she would say; ‘Kya aapke toothpaste mein namak hain, Colgate Active main hain.’ (Does your toothpaste have salt, Colgate Active has)

Or when he was back from work, she would sing, ‘Tandoorusti ki raksha karta hain lifebuoy’.

Or when he wanted to buy a new television,’ style and simplicity that is Philips.’

But when the next door neighbor Nina  hopped in with some munchies and coffee, Poppy could  not bear it and sang out, ‘Do you have the close up confidence’

And Ronny lost his cool then and said, ‘Shut up Poppy or  I shall  send you to the aviary!!’

Two well wishers

Mrs. Arya was sipping her tea when she heard voices from the next door. ‘Hmm she thought, so Shruti and Abhyas were fighting once again.’ She put her cup down on the table, went near the wall, put her right ear to the wall and tried to listen.

‘Crash’ there was a sound.

‘How many times have I told you to be careful,’ cried Abhyas

‘Oh ho, My fingers have ghee on them so the cup slipped, what can I do?’, said Shruti.

‘But why have ghee on the fingers?’

‘It’s not for me, Nitin has cracked lips, you know he does not like lip balm’. and so on the conversation went. Mrs.  Arya next door could not make out anything but yes she had fodder for the day’s meet with her friend Mrs. Pal.

They met at 10.30 am and the first topic of discussion was Shruti. ‘You know Abhyas broke something once again’, said Mrs. Arya.

I hope he did not beat Shruti’, said Mrs. Pal.

‘They were arguing till Abhyas left for work. I tell you whenever that man is at home they fight. And whenever he is at home something breaks. Poor Shruti, what a life.’

‘I think Mrs. Arya her parents should be brought in the picture’, said Mrs.Pal

‘Really, do you think so?’

‘Yes, she is suffering so much. Do you have their contact?’

‘Oh yes, they live in Dahisar, I have their number’, said Mrs. Arya

It so happened that when Mrs. Pal was leaving her friend’s house, Shruti was coming home. Her nose was swollen like a potato and her lips well they looked like burger with a thin slice of ham in between.

‘What happened?’, cried out both in unison.

‘I was dropping Nitin at the bus stop, there is a pit  dug in near the stop for some cable repair, I did not notice it and fell on my face. Its alright I have been to the Doctor’, she said and went inside.

‘But Mrs. Arya and Mrs. Pal had new fodder,’See how she is covering up for her husband. Poor girl, such a fate.’

‘I tell you, call her parents, tell them the truth’, said Mrs. Pal

Shruti got a call from her mother in the evening.

‘SO how did you get hurt?’

‘Huh, how do you know about it?’, Asked Shruti

‘Your kind neighbour informed me about it’

They talked for some minutes and then she was about to go to Mrs. Arya and give her a word or two when Abhyas came in and saw her.

‘Now where did you bang yourself?’

Already in a foul mood Shruti retorted with, ‘I got hurt and rather than talk a few sweet words, you taunt me…’

This dialogue went on for a few more minutes while Mrs. Arya tsk tsked on the other side of the wall.

The next day both of the ladies discussed about what to do next. Obviously Shruti’s mother had not done her bit; so what was to be done next? They decided to call on Aparna who was running an NGO for distressed women.

Aparna duly arrived with a photographer and they rushed to meet Shruti.

‘See Shruti I have brought Aparna to meet you’, Said Mrs. Arya.

‘Hello, Aparna’, said Shruti without any knowledge of who Aparna was.

‘See Shruti, now that Abhyas is not at home, you can tell freely about how he tortures you. You see Aparna runs an NGO for distressed women’.

Now Shruti understood what was happening and though she wanted to yell, she controlled herself and said sweetly, ‘That is commendable Aparna but no one is abused, distressed or beaten here’.

‘But the crash that happened day before yesterday’, Said Mrs. Arya.

‘A plate slipped from my hands because my fingers had ghee on them’, said Shruti gritting her teeth.

And the bruises that you have on your face’, added Mr.Pal

‘I fell into a pit’, said Shruti

Mrs. Pal and Mrs. Arya went on citing instances and Shruti patiently answered each one of them. She knew if she lost her temper it may be taken as if she was really being abused and was trying to defend her husband.


Abhyas returned home to a messy home, a hungry child and wife busy on the computer.

‘What are you doing?’, asked he.

‘Searching for ways to sound proof the walls’, was the answer.

Blog Mania

Siddharth put down the receiver and wiped his sweat. His colleague Aditya passing by noticed this and came near him;

‘What happened Sid, why are you sweating? All fine?’

‘Uhhh, yes’, replied Sid and gulped a glass of water

Seeing his condition Adi pulled a chair from somewhere and sat near him.

‘But you don’t seem to be fine. Come let’s go to the first aid room and check your BP.’

‘No, No need, I am fine really. It’s just that……’

‘What? You can tell me Sid you know I don’t gossip’.

‘My wife is a blogger-food blogger actually’, said Sid

‘That’s nice, which means you get to eat nice  food’

‘Not really’, said Sid gulping down some more water.

Mr. Iyer sitting in the next cubicle knew what Sid meant. His wife too was a blogger, albeit a fiction writer. God knows he was afraid to open his mouth in front of his wife lest she used it in her stories.  No office conversations or friends chats were conveyed in front of her. He had become so silent at home that his son had labelled him ‘mouni baba’ i.e. the silent sadhu. He himself had not known what mouni meant and had once asked its meaning from Sid itself. He knew what Sid was going through.

Meanwhile the conversation between Sid and Adi was going in full swing, Sid had finally broken his mental barrier and was venting his predicament.

‘And so she makes this weird dishes which have to be tasted and commented upon. But mind you before this a picture of her creation has to be taken with proper lighting and all. Heaven forbid if you taste it before its picture its taken’, Said Sid wiping his sweat. ‘I tell you sometimes it gets too much. Imagine reaching home after sweating it out in the office for 8-10 hours after battling the traffic and you are told to take a picture of something which she has created’

‘But what happened today that you are so nervous?, asked Aditya

‘Do you know Indiblogger?’, and noticing that Adi did not know Sid continued,’Its an……how do I say…..an association of bloggers, it’s an online community….’

‘So?’ asked Adi

“Bloggers post their posts, their rambles, their rants there and vote, comment there?’


‘Well Indiblogger comes up with all this contests in which bloggers can win prizes and now there is this Masterchef or something contest. Bloggers are to write about some unique dish and so my wife has decided that she will take part in it and so now I have to brace myself for it. And you know todays special…..Cabbage kheer’

‘Cabbage kheer !! exclaimed Aditya

‘Yes. I hate cabbage and kheer made of it. UGhhh’, and Sid sat down with his head in his hands.

‘Ahem,  I am sorry to interfere but I heard what all you said’, said Mr. Iyer.

‘Its alright Iyer, let the whole world hear, I am sick and tired of her experiments’, Said Sid

‘I have a plan in which we both can benefit. You see I too am in the same boat as you, my wife too is a blogger.’

‘Carry on’, said Sid

‘My wife has not seen you and your wife has not seen me. SO I will pose as a Doctor and tell your wife that you have  a severe case of stomach infection and you are not supposed to eat rich stuff only something plain like rice gruel…’

‘Or khichri’, said Sid brightening up, the world seemed a better place now for him.’

‘And you can pose as a doctor for me and say that I am stressed out and should not be stressed further…you know… like commenting on her stories etc’, said Iyer with a smile.

Last seen Sid gobbling down khichri and Iyer reading his newspaper. Both look visibly content in their conditions.