Monday, November 15, 2004

Death to Zonga i DARE? do i have the guts? do i actually bombard the readers with yet another blog? [biting nails furiously for a second to decide. Realization that bitable nails do not exist pushes me over the edge] Go for it sister! screams my typing-addicted fingers.whoooosh [sound of blog tornado hitting you..coz you still readin this aint ya?]

well oook--since y'all insist so.hey, hey..stop the jostling.everyone gets to read. its a blog after all, not a limited edition newspaper.Its official, the whole world is in on this conspiracy.Manchurian candidate be damned, (actually spare the manchurian.and box it to go please?) this conspiracy tops it all. listen carefully as i outline this daring plot to corrupt the world and earn greedy millions off it.

2000 A.D-Greedy Dr.Zonga discovers a brilliant way to fleece millions from the unsuspecting world. He cackles evilly at his master plan, one that cannot go wrong, carefully plotted and schemed in a way only his devious mind would work. He proudly looks at his partners in crime, and booms in manner of mogambo "Begin" and the wheels of his world-destructive plan started to roll.
The effects of his deceitful plan werent apparent initially..a few oomph models planted on TV Ads..digitally enhanced (or is that dehanced) waistlines started appearing in magazines...desirable weights went from healthy to undernourished..definitions of beauty and pretty included waistlines that could be bangle-sizes instead.soon, vanity started taking over as the world's fav hobby. food portions reduced to bite-sized salads for lunches and dinners. everybody started panicking about weights and waists...Dr.Zonga laughed evilly in his cave and pushed into motion the second part of his plan--malls and department stores started swapping dress sizes--"L" sizes became "M" and the medium sizes were swapped with "S". Worse still, "S" size were replaced by children sizes of clothes. women started to panick when they realized they could no longer fit into their M size dresses..and the shock of having to switch to L sizes instead terrorized them. Diet plans invaded the market like bees when the beehive is broken. Atkins became a national icon. Dr.Zonga had even invaded the detergent market, contaminating the detergents and soaps so they shrunk clothes when washed. Horrified women discoverd clothes bought yesterday didnt fit them today and ran weeping to diet clinics, all run by Dr. Zonga. He minted millions by saving cloth and making smaller sized clothes and selling them in L and M sizes. he secretly made deals with magazines and televisons to promote digitally altered pictures of celebrities. he laughed victoriously as the confused world ran helter skelter in search of the unattainable figure..his partners in crime, garment manufacturers, diet-clinic owners and the media popped open a bottle of champagne and claimed victoriously, "my favorite vice---vanity" in manner of Al pacino in Devil's advocate.

Moral of the story

when in the morning you wake
look at the weighing machine and shake
when in the mirror you look
and wish your waistline someone else took.
remember my friend, Dr.Zonga laughs.

When you go a-shopping
and find clothes where buttons apopping
you sit in the trial room and cry
about how fat you are and sigh,
remember, Dr. Zonga laughs

When you gaze wistfully at dessert
but the thought of calories make you hurt
and you stick to your sandpaper salad
remember, Dr.Zongo then sings a ballad.

when celebrities filled with fame
make you tear up in shame
when you wonder for the 100th time
a waist of 24! you pine!
remember, Dr. Zonga smirks.

as a guilt-ridden tiramisu eater,

Thursday, November 11, 2004

crash boom bang

welcoming myself back into blogosphere [applause dies down in manner of rock artiste song on CD]. and whats been happening while me gone? Bush re-elected (anyone actually surprised there?) Arafat died (in what has been now claimed to be the longest death since the death of Janet jackson controversy) uma bharti recorded the costiest temper tantrum ever and movies flooding the woods (holly and bolly) after almost a decade around diwali time.

While i look at my topic collection to pick and harp on,herez a though to munch on. I call home for the diwali talk---an act of utter pointlessness as i repeat the same questions and answers to 5 members of the family individually (actually its 4.but add one owing to disturbed connection and confusion at home with extension phones). after the initial pleasantries of wishing a happy diwali in chaste tamil (a feeble attempt, but diwali is the time i do a check-in with my southie roots). a quick check and compare on gifts/clothes received and the inevitable "what are you doing". answers to this may vary according to family members. Brother would've just woken up, mom would busily hustle around doing the same things she does everyday, except she looks more important today. Dad does the customary "rocket" at 5 AM and then waits for it to be 7 AM so he can start shooting calls. The usual "you called! i was JUST going to" followed by another round of pleasantry exchange. And at precisely 8:30 AM everyone is bored already. the amul chocolate dilemma of "too old for fireworks, too young to go and sleep again" dwells. Mom insists on a puja where everyone quickly runs out of prayers to recite and the time-biding happens till the ding of 10 AM when the TV springs to life with diwali specials (SUN TV no less. the format apparently remains the same -new releases, interview with a jaded star, interview with a new actor/actress (who may or may not know tamil) and the debate that for the life of me, i could never understand).Lunch follows soon enough and then a guilty nap (how can you sleep on diwali, mom complains as she turns over for another snooze)...and so on and so forth. Do i miss it? damn sure i do. Much earlier in my life i insisted mom recite her childhood stories of diwali that included waking at 4 AM to oil baths and unlimited firecrackers (as moms are wont to claim, they were the richest family on their street so had such luxuries). Wistful as i am on such strong diwali traditions, I do miss the ones at home with Sun TV and boxes of dry fruits some fella at dad's office insisted on distributing (stale nuts sometimes, but the fancy boxes were VERY reusable). But in these years away from home, guess what? i made my own little tradition. So what if diwali was when i decided it would be? (pref the saturday so that i can clean the home in the morning and rest the next day from that cleaning). So what if foodstuff made was bought at a "bharat bazaar" in cans and instant food packets? so what if everyone gaped at each other when we are supposed to pray coz nobody knew a prayer? (my guy has the best one, "everyone be happy" in tamil). So what if lighting diyas depended on where smoke-detectors didnt hover? Its my tradition, and my way of doing the diwali.

whooops..did i just get emotional and senti there? hm..looks like i did.pshaw! atleast its my first blog after eons...have already started typing the next blog so hurrah!! diwali brought me back to blogworld. without a bang!

regretting senti-blog immediately after typing it,