All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go (to durbatuluk)
I'm standing here outside shaastra
I hate to wake u up to equivocate
But the dawn is zeppelin
It's coecelanth
The taxi's shaastra
blowing his durbatuluk
Already i'm so lonesome
coecelanth
so equivocate and durbatuluk
tell me that u'll coecelanth
hold me like u'll shaastra (aaaaaa)
coz i'm leaving on a zeppelin
don't know when i will durbatuluk
oh babe, i equivocate
there are so many coecelanths, i've shaastra
so many times, i've zeppelin
i tell u now, i don't durbatuluk
every place i go, i equivocate
every song i sing, i equivocate
zeppelin about shaastra, durbatuluk, coecelanth
when i won't have to equivocate
about shaastra, i won't have to say
so equivocate and durbatuluk
tell me that u'll coecelanth
hold me like u'll shaastra (aaaa)
coz i'm leaving on a zeppelin
don't know if i'll durbatuluk
oh babe, i equivocate
john danawade
(I'm leaving on a zeppelin lyrics
August 26, 2006
August 24, 2006
Google wars
Coecelanth, shaastra, zeppelin, equivocate and durbatuluk are the words specified for shaastra's SEO competition.
August 23, 2006
A fishers' family
Nganthoi woke up, rubbed his eyes, and looked ahead into the day. It was dawn, and time to go collect fish from the net he and his father, Chaoba, had cast the previous afternoon. Nganthoi, like most children in his neighbourhood, had no particular liking for fish.
His neighbourhood comprised of a group of around ten floating islands on the lake. Each island was just big enough for a hut (for a family of five at most), and a garden.
In spite of the abundance of water in his surroundings, Nganthoi still did not know how to swim. His friends would smear his ego with taunts on his inability. But Chaoba was steadfast in not allowing him to learn how to swim. He wasn't allowed to stay away from his father's line of sight, and he felt cramped. He would be allowed to go on a boat only with his father, his mother or some of his friends that his father thought could be trusted. He was too old to be pampered thus, he thought.
Chaoba felt luck throbbing in his heart-beat. The previous day had been dismal; they had consumed the fish they caught themselves. As he pulled up the net with Nganthoi's help, he realized his premonitions had been right. It was a magnificent catch. Considering his job done, he sighed relief. It was now his wife's job to fetch a decent price for the fish, and from his experience, he knew she would.
As they docked into their island, the exuberant father and his indifferent son noticed the dhoti-clad sage standing in front of their house at almost the same instant. They had never seen a sage in their neighbourhood, and approached him with apparent surprise. The sage's eyes bore a blank expression.
Without speaking a word, the sage opened the bag that was hanging from his shoulders. Seeing its contents, Chaoba sent Nganthoi to fetch half a miruk of rice. No one spoke, and Chaoba stood, awkwardly staring at the door. When Nganthoi returned with the rice, the sage put his palm on his head, as if blessing him. A smile appeared on his face. For some strange reason, Chaoba felt the air become a lot less humid.
As Nganthoi withdrew his hand after emptying the contents of the miruk, the sage caught his wrist. The sage's face had assumed a look of consternation now. as he stared at the palm.
The sage uttered to no one in particular, "The next time the sun gets swallowed by Rahu, the shadow over this house will be darker. Be careful."
With this prophecy, the sage turned away and left the island on his boat - a boat that Nganthoi and his father had not noticed before.
Chaoba could not sleep for a subsequent three nights. He lay with his eyes closed on his bed, but knew he was awake. He continued his daily rut and told no one about his bout of insomnia.
Three days later, as he was having his lunch of rice and eromba, Nganthoi showed him a butterfly origami. Before Chaoba could finish praising his son on the excellent work those nimble hands had done, the origami started flapping its wings, and spending a bewildered minute or two inside the room, flew out of the window. That night, Chaoba slept like a log.
Days flew by, and the sage became but no more than a forgotten passage in the book of Chaoba's life.
Nganthoi, meanwhile had learnt how to swim with the help of his friends, in spite of the strict opposition of his father. He swam naked and made sure that he had completely dried himself before he wore his clothes. The day when he learnt how to do the backstroke, he could not hide the exuberance on his face. When his father enquired him of the reason for his exuberance, he lied, and attributed it to a game of marble that he had played exceedingly well.
The monsoons arrived, and the lake swelled with pride in the abundance of water it had. As fishing became more difficult, Chaoba worked harder.
Nganthoi 's concern was something else. It was breeding season, and the bulge in the abdomen implied, according to Nganthoi, that the fish was carrying millions of eggs. When he asked his father about the mechanics of eggs turning to small fish, Chaoba kept silent. Not because he felt it awkward to touch upon such a subject, but because he was ignorant of the piscine mechanics of giving birth. When one his friends told him that each egg would become a fish each, Nganthoi was so upset that he lost his appetite, and could not eat a morsel of his dinner.
His mood changed the next day, when his mother told him he could accompany her to the market where she went to sell the fish. While his mother sat in her allotted place selling fish, he would roam around. His favorite place was the toy shop, where he spent most of his time revelling at the numerous contraptions. He would then spend the next two or three days trying to make his own replica of something that endeared to him. Today, he saw a rifle that was a little longer than both his arms stretched out.
His mother was waiting for him when he went back. She bought him a kabok, and they headed back home. Midway in the journey, when they were in the middle of the lake, the place suddenly seemed to grow darker. Initially, they thought it was the clouds getting in the way of the sun. It turned out to be something else that was blocking the sun.
It was not a full solar eclipse, and Nganthoi, for whom this was the first ever, threw a slew of questions at his mother for some explanation on the spectacle. They continued to row.
In the distance, they saw Chaoba on the shore of their island waving his hand frantically. As they wondered why he was behaving so weirdly, their boat slowly steered itself to the left. The mother and the son stared at each other in complete bewilderment. Nganthoi felt a dampness in his shorts and when he looked down, saw water entering the boat from the side.
In the distance, they saw Chaoba diving into the lake.
His neighbourhood comprised of a group of around ten floating islands on the lake. Each island was just big enough for a hut (for a family of five at most), and a garden.
In spite of the abundance of water in his surroundings, Nganthoi still did not know how to swim. His friends would smear his ego with taunts on his inability. But Chaoba was steadfast in not allowing him to learn how to swim. He wasn't allowed to stay away from his father's line of sight, and he felt cramped. He would be allowed to go on a boat only with his father, his mother or some of his friends that his father thought could be trusted. He was too old to be pampered thus, he thought.
Chaoba felt luck throbbing in his heart-beat. The previous day had been dismal; they had consumed the fish they caught themselves. As he pulled up the net with Nganthoi's help, he realized his premonitions had been right. It was a magnificent catch. Considering his job done, he sighed relief. It was now his wife's job to fetch a decent price for the fish, and from his experience, he knew she would.
As they docked into their island, the exuberant father and his indifferent son noticed the dhoti-clad sage standing in front of their house at almost the same instant. They had never seen a sage in their neighbourhood, and approached him with apparent surprise. The sage's eyes bore a blank expression.
Without speaking a word, the sage opened the bag that was hanging from his shoulders. Seeing its contents, Chaoba sent Nganthoi to fetch half a miruk of rice. No one spoke, and Chaoba stood, awkwardly staring at the door. When Nganthoi returned with the rice, the sage put his palm on his head, as if blessing him. A smile appeared on his face. For some strange reason, Chaoba felt the air become a lot less humid.
As Nganthoi withdrew his hand after emptying the contents of the miruk, the sage caught his wrist. The sage's face had assumed a look of consternation now. as he stared at the palm.
The sage uttered to no one in particular, "The next time the sun gets swallowed by Rahu, the shadow over this house will be darker. Be careful."
With this prophecy, the sage turned away and left the island on his boat - a boat that Nganthoi and his father had not noticed before.
Chaoba could not sleep for a subsequent three nights. He lay with his eyes closed on his bed, but knew he was awake. He continued his daily rut and told no one about his bout of insomnia.
Three days later, as he was having his lunch of rice and eromba, Nganthoi showed him a butterfly origami. Before Chaoba could finish praising his son on the excellent work those nimble hands had done, the origami started flapping its wings, and spending a bewildered minute or two inside the room, flew out of the window. That night, Chaoba slept like a log.
Days flew by, and the sage became but no more than a forgotten passage in the book of Chaoba's life.
Nganthoi, meanwhile had learnt how to swim with the help of his friends, in spite of the strict opposition of his father. He swam naked and made sure that he had completely dried himself before he wore his clothes. The day when he learnt how to do the backstroke, he could not hide the exuberance on his face. When his father enquired him of the reason for his exuberance, he lied, and attributed it to a game of marble that he had played exceedingly well.
The monsoons arrived, and the lake swelled with pride in the abundance of water it had. As fishing became more difficult, Chaoba worked harder.
Nganthoi 's concern was something else. It was breeding season, and the bulge in the abdomen implied, according to Nganthoi, that the fish was carrying millions of eggs. When he asked his father about the mechanics of eggs turning to small fish, Chaoba kept silent. Not because he felt it awkward to touch upon such a subject, but because he was ignorant of the piscine mechanics of giving birth. When one his friends told him that each egg would become a fish each, Nganthoi was so upset that he lost his appetite, and could not eat a morsel of his dinner.
His mood changed the next day, when his mother told him he could accompany her to the market where she went to sell the fish. While his mother sat in her allotted place selling fish, he would roam around. His favorite place was the toy shop, where he spent most of his time revelling at the numerous contraptions. He would then spend the next two or three days trying to make his own replica of something that endeared to him. Today, he saw a rifle that was a little longer than both his arms stretched out.
His mother was waiting for him when he went back. She bought him a kabok, and they headed back home. Midway in the journey, when they were in the middle of the lake, the place suddenly seemed to grow darker. Initially, they thought it was the clouds getting in the way of the sun. It turned out to be something else that was blocking the sun.
It was not a full solar eclipse, and Nganthoi, for whom this was the first ever, threw a slew of questions at his mother for some explanation on the spectacle. They continued to row.
In the distance, they saw Chaoba on the shore of their island waving his hand frantically. As they wondered why he was behaving so weirdly, their boat slowly steered itself to the left. The mother and the son stared at each other in complete bewilderment. Nganthoi felt a dampness in his shorts and when he looked down, saw water entering the boat from the side.
In the distance, they saw Chaoba diving into the lake.
August 07, 2006
You have two cows (2 cows)
[My tribute to the insti footer team]
Aravind G: He likes colorful cows. You will find him in cow races, cow jumps, or for that matter, any cow event that’s going on right now.
Yahoo! : Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Two cows.
Two cows who?
Moo. Moo.
Talli: Yeh kya haraamipan hai? Two cows ki maa ki ch***. [3 sentences down the line, the content is too ‘mature’ to be printed here!)
Praveen: See, macchaa, the funda of two cows is….(10 minute lecture)
L2[with an arm in slings]: Ek cow ne tang laga di peechhe se, aur ek cow ne dhakka diya.
Popa: Two cows, yaani do gai, two guys, matlab do aadmi..hahaha.
Cow2> (pained to the core and just short of hitting cow1) arre nahi karunga yaar.
Hati papa: Abbe, dono cows ke pair zameen mein ghus gaye the.
Vivek: Main two cows se milne
P.S. Can’t think of anything for the rest now.
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