Chief, Minister?

Hello.

Look at this place… dusty and unused. It’s got that musty smell of a room which has been closed for like, five months.

Oh, right.

So before I begin with my dose of schmuck, I have to say – New Year’s resolution : Blog atleast twice a month. Now I know that’s not a very lofty goal, but considering I haven’t blogged in nearly six months, I think twice a month is a reasonable target.

<Schmuck> (Warning : Sarcasm Ahead)

Recently in the news, I saw this gem of an article gracing the front pages of The New Indian Express. Please go look at it. It’s not very long, and it’s infinitely entertaining. As a little bit of a juxtaposition (yeah, I’m totally showing off my vocabulary), glance through this, and that. Granted, they aren’t the most recent articles on the planet. But they paint the general picture. The hunger report released this year clearly says that the situation hasn’t changed dramatically.

Also, these and other glimmers of hope in the desert of ignorance are the result of an Anti Cow-Slaughter Law passed in Madhya Pradesh, which puts the onus of proving innocence on the accused. Rest assured there has already been (atleast) one case of abuse of this law. How lovely. The law also sets up a 500 crore mega cow-pen, a model for cow conservation across the country.

What is really alarming though, is that we have the Chief Minister of a state, a pretty massive state at that, spouting complete gibberish. “But how is that different from usual?” I hear you cry in indignation “Surely, as a politician that’s his birthright!”. Well, not really methinks. Let’s go through that article point by laborious point, shall we?

A) Only those houses with cow dung coated on the inside escaped the 1984 Bhopal Gas Tragedy – After having done a (kind of) extensive Google search, the only references I came up with for this claim was… surprise surpise, this article. Although, to be fair, I did find this website which claimed antiseptic properties of cowdung and have also claimed scientific evidence. I have emailed them asking for the same, and I shall happily update this with my findings.

B) There are only two ways to remain insulated from nuclear radiation, and one of them is to use cow dung : This is where my jaw dropped when I read the article (mainly because in the printed version, I read this one first). Yeah, sure. A way to be insulated from nuclear radiation? Stay the hell away. But no. That’s not sensible enough for our ever-so-scrupulous Chief Minister. His solution? Cover yourself with cow-pat and grin like an idiot in the face of nukular radiation. Totally going to work.

C) Using cow dung can ensure normal delivery instead of C Section : I don’t even begin to want to know where said cow dung will be er… used.

D) Those who drink the milk of jersey cows and buffaloes commit more crime than those who drink desi cow’s milk : Well, I’d have thought this was obvious, no? After all, we all know that the Indian cow is sacred, and could never have the cunning to inject these little doses of evil into it’s milk. But the Jersey Cow? Damn Americans have no sense of values anyway!

E) Only the cow can save mankind. Just touching it can stabilize blood pressure : When I started out wanting to critique this guy’s intellect, I really didn’t think it would be as easy as quoting him and sitting back to watch the fun. Unless you’re a moophile, of whatever you call people who enjoy cows, I highly doubt the efficacy of petting a cow when you’re artery is about to pop from pressure.

–

Further down the article, some other chap who seems related to nothing, says “Foreign cows give poisoned milk. They have A1 protein, which causes autism.” I stopped to think here. Hmm. Maybe these guy do have a point.

But a quick Wikipedia search revealed that, well, all cows have this protein.

Tough luck buddy. Guess you can never drink milk again, for fear of mental damage. Oh, sorry. Looks like that’s already happened, my bad.

–

Amidst all this uproar of cows and slaughter and anti-nuclear propaganda that the Chief Minister seems keen on spreading, he’s also got time to go on hunger strikes! Well, I guess his hunger struck after about twenty minutes.

Or maybe the pangs in his tummy reminded him too much of the state of the people he’s meant to be governing.

</schmuck>

Puff Daddy

(Note : There are a lot of pages I’ve linked to. They’re not long articles, or hard to read. I strongly advise you read them. I rather enjoyed them myself.)

A good friend of mine recently started to smoke, and that got me thinking about the whole process of smoking.

So this is what I see when someone claims they want to go for a smoke :

“Hey… I really wanna go for a smoke!”

(Read : I think I’ve left my brains in my other pants)

“You got a light?”

(Read : I would like to coat my lungs with tar. Care to join?)

“I don’t know what your problem with smoking is… we enjoy it!”

(Read : I enjoy inhaling/salivating on a burning bit of paper. Let me be!)

—

You may have got the general gist of what I think of people who smoke. I don’t consider it a particularly smart pastime, as pastimes go. It ranks right up there, with wanting to see what roadkill feels like. Frankly, I just don’t understand the motivation behind smoking.

I did a quick Google search on ‘smoking’ (to be completely unbiased) and apart from the first two results, which were Wikipedia, every single other result on that page spoke about how dangerous it is. Clearly not that hard to get this information, if you can spell. Forgetting all the other aspects of smoking… supporting an industry which fudges the numbers on the deaths of thousands of people to stay in business, it seems to be a really stupid thing to do, defying the science that says it will eventually kill you.

I have to point out that people often accost me with “Smoking kills, but so does driving. You don’t yell at people for driving!”. Yes. Driving kills. But smoking isn’t essential to daily livelihood. And they advise seat belts + not driving like a moron for a reason. This logic is the same as saying “People say standing in front of a moving train will kill you, but it doesn’t happen to often. So it may not happen to me”. It flabbergasts me. (Yeah, I use that word.)

Then there’s the stress relief/depression argument. “No… I only smoke occasionally, when I’m depressed/stressed.” Turns out there are other proven ways to release endorphins in your brain (happy chemical in the brain that makes you feel better).

People who’ve been smoking for several years can perhaps be pardoned… addiction is a hard thing to fight. But someone who’s starting to smoke now? I frankly don’t understand it.

I guess you stand judged when Science collectively calls you an idiot.

Peace. :)

IPC – The Indian Penal Code

(Caveat : I have never seen the real IPC, or any code of law for that matter. The below is entirely a work of fiction.)

(Edit – I have to clarify that this would probably be the rules under a Shiv Senik government. To say this is how we currently work would be to do us a bit of an injustice.)

Section 1 :

• Subsection 1.1 : Indian Morality – If the person is found to be in violation of Indian Morality and/or the Indian Moral Code (IMC), then he shall be penalised with a maximum penalty of death. (See section 12.5.5 for a clearer definition of IMC)
• Subsection 1.2: Youth – If any member belonging to the Youth Party (YP) is found to be engaged in an act of Happiness, he shall be punished with a maximum penalty of twenty eight consecutive years of matriculation education.
• Subsection 1.3 : ‘Love’ – If any member of the Youth Party or otherwise is found to be engaged in ‘Love’ then he/she shall be deported. No warrant necessary.

Section 2:

• Subsection 2.1 :Respect – If any member of society is found to be engaged in an act that violates the sanctity of, and is found to be disrespectful of Seriousness and Sincerity, he/she shall be sentenced to one year of rigorous foot-licking.
• Subsection 2.2 : Humour – It has been found that several members of YP have been engaged in Humour. Any incidents relating to this heinous act should be fast tracked. Maximum penalty : Death, without pardon.
• Subsection 2.3 : Decency – Any member of society found to break the Code of Decent Behaviour of Human Beings (CDBHB) (for example, see subsection 19.2.3  - Holding hands) then he/she shall be jailed for a maximum of ten years, and in incorruptible cases to be given Morality Lessons if they do not repent.

—-

Quite possibly the laws they are already operating under, by the looks of it. Give them a couple of years, they’ll get there. They’re a little slow, the poor things.

Creativity

Edit : This was published in April 2010, before I removed it amid concerns of backlash from college.

I study at a college, named ‘Madras Christian College’, fondly called MCC.

I study Physics at this college.

Physics is a wonderful subject. (People disagree with me on this. I completely understand why. But hear me out.) Beauty of the world, etc. The mysteries of the universe explained. What hasn’t been explained, you can happily go out and try to explain. Someone once said to me “Wouldn’t the sunrise be ruined if you knew why it happened?” My answer to that is quite resoundingly no. It looks better, and even more fantastic, knowing what happens behind it.

Instead of me elaborating more on this, let’s assume that I’ve convinced you that Physics isn’t boring black and white text on pages, with math no one understands. Moving on, to my wonderful college.

My wonderful college has brilliant teachers.

Said brilliant teachers adopt one of the following attitudes in teaching the (in my opinion) most enlightening subject on the planet.

A) God created all things. You cannot question him.

B) You will need to study this for your exam to pass.

I’ve obviously got a problem with both these arguments. Attributing everything to God is fine. Not every Physics teacher needs to be an atheist. Heck, Einstein wasn’t an atheist. But when you ask questions about protons colliding, etc. and you’re met with a reply that says ‘God made it so. Stop asking questions’, that’s just hiding. That’s hiding ignorance behind a fake moral attitude of respecting God. I’m sure he’d want you to figure it out, even if he did create it. Seems a benevolent enough chap.

Attitude number 2 also infuriates me.

“Protons colliding? That isn’t in your syllabus.”

“Yes… but I’m interested. Surely that’s got to count for something?”

“Interest won’t fetch you marks in the exam.”

“Can I meet you after class?”

“Meeting me won’t fetch you marks in the exam.”

“How do I answer this question?”

“Answering this question won’t fetch you marks in the exam. It isn’t in your syllabus.”

“But I’m interested. Surely that must count for…”

You get the idea.

It’s a black hole. There’s no way out of it. It breeds, and feeds off enthusiasm and happiness. I swear my teachers look smugger and fatter than when I first joined. I’m markedly less enthusiastic, even if it’s just about my prospects in Physics.

Their staff room is crazy. If you light a candle in there, you won’t see more than a few centimetres. You take a baby in their, it’ll start wailing. Dogs will bolt on the mere sight of it. Cats’ hair stands on end. Cows… well, they’re cows, aren’t they? Not particularly bright upstairs.

That department can sense and detect joy miles away, and makes sure that they do everything in their power to annihilate it.

The dark side has nothing on the Department of Physics, Madras Christian College.

—-

On a side note – We have to submit a record at the end of every semester, of our practical work. We’ve got to get it attested on the front page of the record, which has a pre-printed thing saying ‘Work completed by……….. in………. B.Sc Physics”. Now a friend of mine filled it in with his name, and the second blank was filled in with ‘II’, ’cause he’s in the second year. My ‘professor’ scratched it out, and wrote in ‘II B.Sc Physics’, so it read ‘II B.Sc Phyics, B.Sc Physics’. They’re overflowing with brains, too.

Poetry

I don’t get poetry.

Don’t get me wrong… I’m sure it’s a legitimate way of expressing yourself, and it’s a fine creative art form and everything, but I just don’t get it. I really don’t get the poetry with the abstract metaphors that expect you to extract meaning from their depths. I like literature that is clear. I want what I understand to be more or less what everyone else understands. I don’t want to think the poem is about the weather, and have an English Lit student come and tell me it’s about the plight of cows in Nevada. That just doesn’t make sense to me.

Now that everything is clarified, I have a theory that some (not all, or even a majority) of this ‘abstract’ poetry is a farce. Here’s my attempt at recreating it, and I’m sure that someone would (in due course of time, after skipping all this preamble that gives away the whole thing) interpret it as something deep and meaningful, which is clearly not what I intend.

I present to you :

Catharsis

Cherry red roses blossoming in the sea,

Wines, cigarettes and bereft countryside.

After all, wasn’t it you who said

‘Those who can, shall see the light’ ?

Haunting words

Like wolves at twilight

Bereft of the cleft

Argue about the colour of their blood

Surely, Gandhi had a point?

Open your mind too much,

And your brain will fall out.

Delusion is the presumption of intelligence.

Of Libraries*

Maybe you’ve heard about the new public library that we’ve got here in Madras.

But maybe you haven’t, and you don’t have the slightest clue about what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about a ‘public’ ‘library’. (Yes, I’ve put both in my sarcastic quotes. They shall soon be explained.)

The library is big, and shiny, and got space for parking, and a place to leave your bags before you enter and a (functional) metal detector to catch any bombs you may want to bring and everything. It’s really impressive from the outside.

 

Ooh, shiny.

So we (a friend, and me) walked into this place, expecting grand fanciness and to be bowled over by super-efficient library awesomeness. And the first floor delivered. Sure, it was deserted, save for the metal detector people, and Information Lady, but it was clean, shiny, and extremely competent looking.

But unfortunately no signboards. We can forgive them that error, yes? So with no signs to direct me, we head over to Information Lady to see what Information she has for us about this vast and competent place.

“Yes, sir?” she queries, quite bored-ly.

“Hi. Can I know more about this library?” my friend asks, innocently.

Without batting an eyelid, she hands him a brochure, thanks him and pretends that conversation is over.

“Ah. Er… ah. Thanks. I would like to know, can I borrow books?”

“No sir. You need membership.”

My friend pauses for her to continue, but clearly she’s done with her bit. Our cue.

“Erm… how do I get a membership?”

“Sorry, sir. We are only issuing memberships for 4-14 year olds. Please apply when we open up application for others.”

Again, no further sign of volunteering information. We are starting to loose a little hope.

“Cool, so if I can’t borrow books, you have facilities to photocopy relevant material?” he asks, hopefully.

We have stymied her with a question that wasn’t in the annoying-customer manual. She thinks about this for a bit.

“Uh… no sir. Not allowed.”

“But I just want to look at a few periodicals. I can’t xerox them?”

“No sir. Not allowed.”

“… you can take notes!” she adds hopefully, looking at our dejected-annoyed faces.

We just stumbled on the worst rule in any library on the planet. No photocopying of books. Strike one.

So we head off in search of said periodicals, more than slightly disenchanted with the library.

Or we would have headed off in search of books, if someone told us where to go. We walked through one highly polished glass door, to see another highly polished glass door leading to a conference room-like thingy. Not books. Headed through another door, leading to dust, construction and the elevators. Someone near the elevators helpfully yelled out “Third floor go!” over construction noise. So third floor we went.

Leave the elevator, turn right… security guard. Yes! Books inside the room near security guard. But there are two signs on this not-so-highly-polished glass door.

A) Philosophy, Religion, Sociology & Computer Science.

B) To enter this section, please produce permission or identity card to security guard and sign in.

Hm. Permission/ID proof? Shouldn’t they be checking this at the checkout counter if at all? Surely you are allowed to browse even if you don’t have a valid ID? But these weren’t periodicals, so we went floor by floor, up to the sixth floor. (The building has eight floors, two of which are still under massive construction, and half the library is still under sort-of construction. They opened seven months ago.)

We didn’t even see books on shelves in a couple of floors. Apparently books are going out of style in libraries. But nothing had periodicals, so we continued our pilgrimage downwards, where we finally found the periodicals section. Clearly Information Lady wasn’t close to being information enough. But alteast we had a minor-tour of the library. We walk into this section, and aren’t asked to sign anything thankfully, only to be greeted by blissfully empty shelves. So I approach a lady at the counter, and inquire innocently -

“Excuse me, where are the magazines?”

“Sorry sir, they are still in storage.”

“Oh… so I can’t borrow them?”

“To borrow them you need ID. Please show me ID.”

Except I couldn’t. ‘Cause they were only issuing ID’s to four to fourteen year olds. Quite massively disenchanted with this fiasco, we leave the section dedicated to Children’s Books and Periodicals. While we were leaving, the quite oblivious security guard stops us, and asks my friend to brandish the notebook he is carrying, flips through it to check if we’ve stolen a book, and hidden it in there, and then lets us go. I’m sure that’s an invasion of privacy on several levels.

To add insult to our ‘injury’, they claim it’s the largest library in South Asia. Lovely. They’ve ordered a million books, and are safely keeping them in pristine condition in storage. They also claim to have the most advanced check-out system in any library in the world. Except we can’t check out books. And they employ 500 staff. Of which about 490 don’t have a clue what’s happening. And they will soon start charging a membership fee, and no doubt rejecting members who look less than acceptable. I’m pretty sure their membership fee will be quite exorbitant as well. More money to swindle.

One redeeming point is apparently their Children’s Section, which I didn’t see first hand. Well stocked, and well lit, with sitting areas and everything. No wonder they’re only issuing memberships for 4-14 year olds. That’s the only part of the library that looks usable seven months after they opened. Gotta love our government. You’d think they’d think about these little things, like stocking books, before they opened the library out to public, yes?

If they’d claimed that “The DMK  is educating Tamil Nadu one book a a time!” we’d have believed them without hesitation.

—-

*All portions of this story are true. But some portions have been told in first person for dramatic effect.

Leaky Faucets

For anyone who’s been living under a rock for the last two months or so, there’s this chap, called Julian Assange who is the founder of this site, called WikiLeaks. He’s also come under severe criticism and hate and other bad things for the last few months for doing what he’s done. This is me doing my bit and throwing my opinion in the already overflowing cauldron.

A quick introduction to people who’ve missed out on the biggest news story in the last few months – WikiLeaks is dedicated to freedom of information. More dedicated than the Mahatma to peace, or chocolate chips to ice cream. They tend to release fiercely guarded information into the public domain, free for anyone to have a look at. This scares the bejeezus out of the people whose information has just been released. The latest is the release of American Cables from different embassies all over the world, they’ve released tens of thousands of cables, with more releasing every day. This is causing a bit of a storm world over, to put it mildly.

Governments world over have been calling for the death of Mr. Assange (Note – Clicking on ‘death’ will get you to this really interesting site – Peopleokwithkillingassange.com) prompting WikiLeaks’ twitter account to ask everyone to stop calling for his death. Everyone from Sarah Palin, to random governor in the US has been calling for his head on a platter… preferably not attached to his body. Why is this a problem? WikiLeaks is working for the freedom of information, as earlier stated. They may choose slightly radical methods of doing this, but that doesn’t mean we choke, gag and kill them. Whatever else anyone may say, their primary purpose is to ensure transparency of information, and consequently accountability. From governments, to corporates, to banks, everyone who has been involved in some manner of illegal and damaging activities have been outed on WikiLeaks.

There are several opponents (several thousand?) to this website, and what they are doing. Sure, defence strategies may be compromised… but how many current plans of the army have been leaked? None. It’s all retrospective, to a varying degree, and at a time when giant media houses can’t talk about their sponsors for fear of losing money, or position, or TRP ratings, anyone who is willing to put real information out there, without spin has my vote. If governments had been honest with us about their plans, these revelations would have been a mild hiccup in their plans, it wouldn’t have spun them madly out of control. In the midst of all this ruckus about Assange, the media has missed the people who’ve been exposed by the wiki. It’s them we should be questioning, and taking to task.

But then again, it’s today’s media. We can’t expect three coherent, verifiable sentences from them.

 

Hypocrite

There’s something about Society that makes me want to maim something.

I say that with the utmost love I have for us human beings, who so love to call on hypocrisy and yet will remain hypocrites till death do us apart. Taking the example of Indian Society, which I happen to (hopefully) be a part of, in recent times there has been a ridiculous uproar about things that go unnoticed in other society (hopefully). When questioned about it, we get the upright, honest and moral answer “This goes against Indian sentiments, and the Indian moral code.”.

Let’s take a look at women, for a start. (“Sure!” I hear you saying “Who wouldn’t take a look at women?” Exactly.)

Both Hindi and Tamil indigenous movies have gotten into the trend of including an ‘item number’, which has a scantily clad girl dancing in ways that would make a sailor blush. But that doesn’t prevent people from watching it. In fact, it’s a crowd puller. Not only does the crowd love it, they watch the movie for it.

Meanwhile, back in the sleepy little metropolis of Chennai, a girl wears a sleeveless shirt and jeans and is walking down the road. She is immediately caught, hit and a case is filed against her for ‘breaking Indian moral code!’ or something similarly bigoted. I’m not sure if you guys see a problem here… but something strikes me as amiss.

It is this completely biased attitude that I find ridiculous. Given, that one may make the fair claim that people like the RSS who safeguard our much vaunted Indian Values don’t really go around watching these movies (hopefully), but they aren’t the only guardians of the Moral Code. We’ve got our neighbourhood mama and mami who take it upon themselves to frown disapprovingly at every young person who has the misfortune of walking by their window looking anything close to happy. We’ve got our conservative middle agers who rue the unraveling of  morality. We have our teenager, who is influenced by said middle ager, who rues the unraveling of morality.

One may still make the argument that these aren’t the people who go to watch those kinds of movies. Which is again, fair enough. But if they aren’t the people who go to watch those kinds of movies, considering the returns those kinds of movies get, clearly it’s the other part (read : not-crazy) part of the population that outnumbers these guys? In which case, why does their opinion count more than the rest of the populations? The only reason I can think of, is that they invoke the magic of ‘India’s Past Glory’, and tend to run amok with it. That’s not very nice.

If one starts getting worked up about this, one will die of a heart attack at a distressingly young age, so I find it best to not think about it that much, or I’ll end up a mad, giggling wreck.

(Not that I’m that much different now. I’m just sayin’.)

Tales from the Roadside

Here’s a bunch of stuff I saw while I was on various buses across the city. They aren’t related to each other at all, having occurred several days and/or hours after one another.

—-

2nd Nov, 2010

Today, on the bus while going to college, I was sitting next to this Chap.

Chap was wearing standard issue engineering college clothes. Faded shirt that looked good in the sixties – Check. Similar ‘formal’ pants – Check. Dead in the eyes – Check.  But there was something a little amiss with him.

Now before I continue, I’m just saying, I’m no mystery novelist, or any sort of novelist really. I write shmuck on an obscure website every now and then. So the suspense in this one isn’t going to hold on that long. Don’t hold your breath.

It wasn’t too hard to figure what it was, really. About six milliseconds after ‘The Event’, my ears alerted my brain. My brain told the rest of my body to get the hell out of there. The rest of my body was completely ineffective in deploying said maneuver, due to an excess of humanity on the other side of my seat. So I had to sit there, and bear this assault.

Chap was playing ‘Lonely” by Akon on his phone. Yeah, you know the one. Akon’s so lonely, he’s mister lonely.

I don’t understand how Chap had the guts to play this in public. Beneath all my hatred for all thing Akon and Chap, was a begrudging respect for this guy, who looked completely nonchalant in subjecting the world to this prime example of musical dirge.  I had honestly thought that song was dead. It should have been banned by the musical community (or any community willing to do the world a service) a long time ago.

Turns out the phrase ‘Torch it to hell’ doesn’t occur to everyone while listening to this song. Pity.

—

9th Nov, 2010

So I’m listening to my iPod, and looking out the window, completely unaware of who’s sitting next to me. After a while, I happen to turn the other side just to see if there’s anything interesting happening inside of the bus, and I see Him.

I was confused for a while, I didn’t quite know what to make of it. I fall asleep a lot on the bus… so maybe I was dreaming? Or I was hallucinating. I started panicking for my sanity (what’s left of it). But then I noticed a couple of other people looking at him too, so I figure it isn’t just me who’s hallucinating.

He’s clearly a time traveller, who’s managed to arrive in 2010 from somewhere in the middle of the 1970′s. His clothes are absolutely beautiful. He’s wearing brown shiny flared pants, with shiny black pointy ‘Stayin’ Alive’ shoes, with a white shirt with yellow polka dots. The shirt’s cuffs are flared under his matching brown and shiny blazer. All topped with a large dose of styling gel, making the most epic man this side of Chuck Norris.

The strangest part of this is that he couldn’t have been more than fifteen.

Clearly some sort of time travelling boy genius, with garbage taste in clothes.

—

12th Nov, 2010

This is a story of a Man, with an ego the size of…well, the size of a bus.

The bus pulls up to the stop, and people get on it, and people get off of it (not the same people), as per usual. Then the bus starts to pull out of the stop, but it can’t, because there’s this Man standing halfway across the road, clearly with the intention of crossing the road.

Now I don’t know about you, but I make it a point never to duel with a bus. It’s generally stupid to think that you can out-muscle a several tonne machine built out of steel and god knows what else.

Our Man clearly had different ideas. With a belligerent look at the bus, he continues to stand, waiting for traffic to break so he can cross the road. After about half a minute of the bus protesting at it’s loudest, he reacts.

His glasses flash fire toward the driver of the bus, but he is a gentle soul, not wishing to harm anyone. So with a condescending nod, and a wave of the hand, he deems the bus worthy to pass his aura of awesome.

Then he finally managed to cross the road.

A Love Poem

So today was my friend Shruthi’s birthday. I gifted her this poem.

—

My dearest Shruthi,

On this joyous occasion of your twentieth birthday,

I think it’s time that you heard me say,

I’ve always admired your mom.

 

In other news,

Your skin is as bright as freshly dropped dews

Your face (that’s what she said)

would be perfect for a man called Ted

As the irradiant moonlight strikes your opalescent eyes,

I cannot help but think,

Does it rain every time an angel cries?

Clearly you distract me so,

You and your beautiful toe

 

Your lemony fresh personality

Is a paragon of femininity

Sugar and spice, and everything nice

But unfortunately you don’t eat food

 

Your talents at creating arts and craft

make everyone else look really daft

I’m sure you relish in their pain,

While flushing their dreams down the drain

You sadist.

 

You are my autumn and my spring,

You are my cycle, and my tring-tring

Your words brighten my day,

For such wisdom, I don’t even have to pay!

How can that guy wear those shoes?

Oh my god! Did you just drink booze?

It would be tragic,

If such nuggets of magic

Were lost to the world.

 

Happy Birthday Shruthi!