Does this make "Coronasense"?

Does this make “Coronasense” ?

I guess by now anyone who watches the numerous news channels, social media messages and videos or reads the newspapers, spouting doomsday prophesies ad nauseum, knows about this pandemic, how it began, how it spreads, which celebrity has contracted it and what is being done to contain it.

Some even tell you to wash your hands and not to keep touching your face.

Others quip, make memes, cartoons, and jokes about it.

Still others (and these are the worst in my book) spread fake news, lies, make ridiculous claims for cures (one wag advocates drinking cow urine, another 190 proof alcohol), or are just in denial.

As far as I’m concerned this threat is real and I suggest every person needs to contribute their mite, time and energies to take stringent measures not just to protect oneself, but also to help others.

Rather than depend on the authorities to step in

(they are also humans groping in the dark, while at the same time trying to fix the economy, create jobs, alleviate poverty and crime, keep their bosses happy, or maintain their positions of power) let each person get proactive and ask ourselves, “What can I do to help?” and “What can I do to keep this virus at bay?”.

Me, I’m just the ordinary middle-class retiree, not a celebrity, doctor, health expert, bureaucrat, politician (heaven-help) in the age which will henceforth be known as the pandemic of Covid-19.

I’ve survived my share of the common flu, mumps, measles, chicken pox, and the school bully.

I’m almost up to my threescore and ten lifespan, and pretty sure that I’ll make it provided I don’t get coughed or sneezed upon by this bunch of zealous party workers, even now, going from door to door canvassing for the zilla parishad elections.

But since I consider myself pretty sensible and logical, I try to use common sense and 

logic to figure out what I should do to keep myself safe, and I’m sharing this with you:

First things first ……

You’ve listened to the news and have a fair sense of what you are up against so stop listening, reading, viewing, keeping track of and discussing it like it’s the cricket score in the world cup series.

Instead…..Keep abreast of what the healthcare experts and scientists have to say (not celebs and politicians and shamans) and let logic and common sense decide your course of action.

Inform others about the danger and how they can keep themselves safe as well. This is especially true about the ill-informed, illiterate, uneducated and superstitious sections of our society, people you are in contact with, like your maid, driver, gardener, common labourers. Spread the word in language they understand. Convince them!!

It starts with you …..

Stop spitting in public, coughing or sneezing without covering your mouth and nose with your sleeve. Take your trash home. Educate others.  Continuing to do so otherwise, is akin to carrying a loaded gun.

Sanitise your daily use items, your phone, desktop, door knobs, table tops and in general your surroundings routinely.

As soon as you get home from work or the outside wash your face, hands and feet.

Change into fresh clothes frequently.

Bathe before going to bed; don’t take the days dust and dirt with you to accumulate in your sheets and pillows.

Stop non-essential travel even in your own transport

Stay away from crowds. If you have to take a bus or train, get into one that is not crowded.

Use a face mask (get it from a reliable source) if needed, even a clean handkerchief will do, but wash it out after.

If you see someone is unwell help, or try to get them to get help or report it.  

Go shopping only when necessary and for goodness sake don’t hoard – remember if someone who really needs stuff doesn’t get it, this could be the reason for the spread of the virus and not being able to contain it will suck big time.  

Take your holiday at home rather than at the mall. Spend time playing board games, have a sing-along, do a home project, or just chill with a good book or TV movie.

If you are in a position of authority:

Give sanitation workers gloves and protection and knowledge to help them stay safe.

Disinfect public transport with religious fervor.

Stop all gatherings, meetings and functions.

Try to make office, shop or factory timings flexible so that streets and public transport are not crowded.

Allow those who can work from home do so.

Have minimum person to person interaction.

Above all do not panic or add to the hysteria surrounding this pandemic, which just makes it worse.

Go about your daily routine in a calm, efficient and unobtrusive manner.

Be aware of your surroundings and mindful of others.

Stay safe and healthy.

....and if you think this post has any merit, please share it.

Pedestrians unite! You have nothing to lose but your lives.

A cabinet minister died on Delhi’s roads the other day. One would think that, at last, there would be more than a knee-jerk reaction by the transport ministry to set in motion programs to educate, prosecute and/or implement rules of the road for the safety of all eligible voters, if not all its citizenry. But, a month later, after all the hoopla and lip service paid to a "great leader" by all and sundry. The roads of this country remain chaotic and unruly, even the one they are proposing to name after him.

Having said that ……….

Here I am representing a vanishing race - The pedestrian.

Now while you cops have been directing traffic in all our big cities, I know more about it than the combined mess of you do. I’ve been dodging it! Why you even have those traffic podiums built up so you won’t get run over yourself, or you stand on either side of the road and wave a traffic wand instead.

That I am here tonight to celebrate my 62^nd birthday, no thanks to you, is owing to a keen eye and a nimble pair of legs. But I know from ongoing experience that one of these days they’ll get me. I’m not as young as I used to be and the close shaves are getting even closer. Why just yesterday I ran into a store and shut the door behind me just to keep a car and its driver from getting me. Another SUV chased me up the porch into a building, what saved me was my jumping into an elevator going up.

When I was younger I could stay on the sidewalk and dodge these fellows with agility. But seeing as sidewalks nowadays are either non-existent or have been encroached by parked cars, illegal gados, message boards, trades-persons, and used for open-air godowns and the like, what choice has the pedestrian but to become another streetwalker.

And now to make up some sort of a game all the roads are being marked up with white lines. If the driver of a car hits you while you are inside those white lines it doesn’t count. He has to come back and run over you again.

Earlier in 1983 when we had Kiran Bedi, there were not near as many people killed as there are now. But there were more people hurt, and these were mostly traffic offenders by Kiran Bedi’s wielding of her police baton, which proves that by having more traffic police only to stop and direct traffic, the driver can finish his victim, whereas in the old days he could only hurt him. And this is what the ministry of roads calls "progress". Maybe they are talking about population control.

Narcotics however have helped the pedestrian a little, as the drivers are afraid to run over just anybody. It might be a Nigerian drug dealer and their tyres could get cut up.

In Delhi they have red and green traffic lights. Green for “GO” and red for “CHECK THAT THERE ARE NO COPS AROUND BEFORE GOING”

Here at the O’ Coqueiro crossing in Porvorim there are also amber lights. I asked a cop what the amber light was for. He thought one of them had faded. I’m guessing the amber light is for old people who were standing there for a long time to start limbering up, then, if they are in good condition, maybe they can make it to the other side.

To better traffic conditions I suggest a few traffic rules for the future:

1)   Allow pedestrians to carry shotguns to intimidate homicidal drivers in return every time they cross the road. For non-violent pedestrians introduce rent-a-cow schemes: This allows a pedestrian to walk a herd across the road for the price of a handful of cattle feed. Reward jaywalkers who cross unhurt.

2)   Make all roads one-way. This ensures that anyone going from Mapusa to Panjim will think twice about driving if he has to return via Bangalore.

3)   Make the price of petrol and diesel equivalent to that of “Fair and Lovely” skin cream in weight, and sell them in tubes over the counter at stores. This will free up tons of space used by petrol bunks across the country, and also make sure car owners buy only what they need.

4)   To cut down on incessant honking, replace all vehicle horns buttons with paid cell phone apps which charge a fee every time the horn is used. Double, if it is used in the vicinity of a hospital or school.

5)    For smooth traffic flow, have a team at every junction confiscate the licence of every driver and return it at the next one, only if he reaches AFTER a certain time limit. This in itself will reduce at least half of the two-wheelers and a third of four-wheelers on the roads.

6)   On Sundays do not allow anyone other than learner drivers on the roads, and then all they can hit is each other. Sell season tickets and open betting booths for pedestrians and tourists to witness this spectacle.

7)   Issue driving licences only to those who understand that road signs and markings are not coloured accessories for road beautification.

8)   Have everybody go North on Mondays, South on Tuesdays and so on. That’s the only way you can make Indian roads safe for democracy.

If we continue with the present state of our roads and traffic in 3 years there will be no pedestrians left, and those homicidal drivers might start targeting traffic cops instead!  

It’s a Holly Jolly Election

And so, at last, the Indian Game of Thrones aka Election 2014  to defeat the Italian lineage of the House Gandhi, which began in roughly 1977, is over. We have finally come to the end of the bitter hateful partisan viciousness that has consumed us for far too long, and we can now look forward, as a nation, to beginning a new era of bitter hateful partisan viciousness. But first let's pause for a moment to express our support, as Indians, for the man we have elected as our next Prime Minister, even if we did not vote for him, or do not - in the case of Mamata Bannerji’s donkey, anyway - know who he is. For all she knows, we elected Arnab Goswami, or maybe Arnold Schwarzenneger.

My deadline to publish this article was the night of the day before, and as I write these words, all the networks are predicting a huge BJP win but refusing to make any predictions about who lost. They don't want to repeat the fiasco of the Delhi election night of 2013, when they appeared to be getting their voting-return data from a fortune telling parrot.

So this time around they are being extremely careful about how they word things:

BARKHA DUTT: Let's turn to our political expert, Nidhi Razdhan. Nidhi, what's your expert analysis of the losers at this point?

NIDHI: I can't say, Barkha.

BARKHA: You mean it's too early to predict?

NIDHI: I wouldn't go as far as to say that, Barkha.

BARKHA: So you can't tell us anything?

NIDHI: This connection sucks Barkha. Try again later.

On a brighter note, the voting seemed to go fairly smoothly here in Goa. This was a concern because of the way we screwed up the last election by casting thousands upon thousands of fake votes on which we apparently selected a mute for Prime Minister, or two people for Prime Minister, or a parrot for Prime Minister, etc.

But this time it went pretty well. Where I voted, in Alto Porvorim, there was a longish line, but it moved steadily, with the dead voters being dragged forward by helpful poll workers, and the drunks fed large pots of coffee.

Eventually I got into the voting booth and cast my vote on one of those new computerised EVM’s, which was kind of fun, especially the part at the end when you push the button and the little beeper screeches and all the street dogs start howling. (If this did not happen when you voted, your machine was defective, and you should file a complaint with the Election Commission to notify Rahul Gandhi to check it immediately.)

My biggest voting problem was in understanding the party symbols on the EVM. I had studied them ahead of time on a sample EVM; there were various patterns and designs, and without question the one with the hand symbol appeared to be clutching a wad of currency. Of course there was some confusion with one of the others was it a broom or was it a torch with emanating light rays or was it an alien stun wand. The English version of how to use the EVM’s was apparently written by reporters from the Panjim Edition of The Times of India. One instruction, which I am not making up, was worded as follows: You are not given any ballot thereafter, and are sent to the EV Machine placed behind a card board in a corner. The machine is placed in such a way that your polled vote will be a secret.” It made me think: well polling is a gamble anyway. But search as I might I failed to find the above-mentioned “card board” although there was a cleverly hidden EVM in a corner ….so brushing aside all thought of Aces, Kings and Queens, I played my trump and pressed a blue button which blushed bright red and let out a satisfied orgasmic shriek.    

I voted for a better country, one that I as a citizen  , would hopefully feel proud of, against that old one, because it's riddled with corruption and greed and turmoil and has no soul in it that I can detect. I would have voted for the death penalty for whoever wrote it, but as far as I know that was not an electoral requirement.

I voted in favour of the question about casinos, solely because the local version of a casino is “matka” or “jackpot”

I also, of course, voted for a Prime Minister. I believe I made the right choice, and I hope that when we finally determine the outcome of who actually lost this election - if we ever do - my candidate will still be declared victorious. Because I believe that now, more than ever before in this nation's history, we need a leader with vision, courage, experience, resiliency and - above all - a really big bullet proof vest to accommodate a 56 inch,…..oops sorry we follow the metric system 142.24 cms, chest.

Prime Minister “The Great Khali” Dalip Singh Rana. 

Potty Training or The Love That Dare Not Speak Its’ Name.

Please! Please! Pretty please stop banging on the toilet door every time I’m in there on my daily sabbatical, just to ask where I left the cell phone charger, or have I paid the water bill since you’re passing there on your way to the store, or (and this cracks me up) whether I want my breakfast eggs fried or scrambled. And then, when I get teed-off at such rude intrusion, you go: Why? What’s wrong in asking you that! And then go: Why do you have to lock the door anyway. What’s going on in there?

Also, if you are in such a tearing hurry and need to use the loo as well, stop yelling at me to “hurry up”. Does it occur to you that we have another fully functional bathroom just down the corridor! And no other resident in the house!?

Yes that’s what I’m talking about … we men, and our toilet time!

We are men! In ancient times, in time of difficulty, we have always needed to retreat to our caves. It so happens that in this modern age our “caves” are fully plumbed. The toilet for us is the last bastion, the final refuge, the last few square metres of man-space left to us. Somewhere to sit, something to read, something to do and who gives a dam about the odour. Because THAT, for us, is happiness. Because we are men! We are different:

We have only one word for “soap”!

To us strawberry is a fruit, and kiwi is a bird, not colours!

We do not own candles! Let alone chocolate-scented ones!

We have never seen anything….of any value… in a craft shop!

We do not collect magazines, at least not those which have photographs of celebrities, with all their clothes on!

When we have conversations we actually take it in turns to talk!

We have not yet reached that level of earth-shattering boredom and inhuman despair where we go to have our hair-styled….. just for fun!!

We never get excited about really, REALLY boring things like ornaments, bath oils, the countryside, babies, spiders.

We don’t even know what…. what in the name of all that’s holy, is the purpose of potpourri!!!….looks like burnt cereal, smells like your octogenarian aunt! Why do we need that?

So please, in this strange and frightening world allow us one last place to call our own. This toilet, this blessed pot! This fortress of solitude!

And finally when you ladies go to the bathroom in groups of two or more, we do not pass comment, we do not make judgement – that is your choice.

So allow us men. We men…. to choose: - and we choose to always walk the toilet mile alone!

Elections-2014:

Can Mr.Chacha Alimony possibly compete with Rhino Hernandez?

Now the eyeballs of the nation turn toward this vibrant, proud, ambitious city in North or possibly South Goa as the poll parties gather here to present their message of hope for Goa and, in the larger interest, India, namely that the Sri Ram Sena and SP are fascist, racist women-hating scum.

In the days leading up to the elections, the Russians have been enjoying their Dachas in  Morjim, while the Israelites stake out Aswem, and the Nigerians continue their drug trade in Calangute, often called "The Pearl of the Non-Goa North" because of its many attractions.

The Dhirio Hall of Fame is located here, but that is only the beginning: There are also choked roads, ramshackle buildings, dead trees, several bars and restaurants, literally tonnes of garbage, and a modern bus fleet consisting of three buses left over from the days of the Portuguese occupation.

On top of all that, right now Lower Candolim boasts a huge sand sculpture of the Pope. It bears an uncanny resemblance to what the Pope would look like if he were made out of sand sculpted by somebody who had never actually seen him. The sculpture allegedly weighs more than 15 tonnes and cost ₹30 lakhs, which was paid by the drug dealers association of North Goa Beaches, as a way of sending the message: "We have a great deal of sand……and even more weed."

It is only fitting that this sculpture has been erected here. Its looming presence serves as a reminder that no matter how many politicians take the stage, this convention is really about just one person — a person whose name will be evoked countless times over the next few days; a person who, whether you love him or hate him, has come to dominate the political discussion in this state and possibly the nation as few others ever have.

I refer, of course, to Rhino“Humma Humma” Hernandez.

I have been observing political rallies since the Babri Masjid demolition and I have never seen an artiste, speaker or singer captivate the nation the way Rhino did that night in Dumbolim. It was mesmerizing to watch: Rhino would stare into the lights and launch into song, and as he sang, you could almost hear his brain shouting "Help! Help!" as it became increasingly clear that he had no earthly idea how that particular lyric was going to end. Plus, while conducting a pretend salsa with a guitar and microphone, he made TWO proprietary anatomically impossible bodily contortions.

It was, quite simply, the best election song ever performed, and I am including the Oscar winning “Jai Ho” in that statement. When I left Dumbolim and returned, between rallies, to the normal human world, Rhino’s song was pretty much the only thing anybody wanted to talk to me about. If the AAP want to really boost TV ratings for this election, they should have Rhino sing in Delhi too. Unfortunately, it appears that our best hope for entertainment is going to be Sunny Leone, who is scheduled to deliver her remarks during the coveted 1 a.m. slot on FTV.She will of course be wearing "Wendell Rodriques".

But the most anticipated speech was delivered last Thursday night by Prime Minister Maun Singh, who was making the case that the UPA deserves a third term in office, based on his solid record of taking on some of the most difficult problems this nation has ever faced and unflinchingly blaming all of them, including the disappearance of the Malaysian Airlines jet, on the opposition. The PM also spoke about his plan for reducing corruption, which continues to be a pesky problem despite the many hard-hitting speeches and interviews the Shehzada Ra Ga has made about it.

A big concern for the UPA is whether the PM can rekindle the passion and excitement he generated in 2009. Back then he was a superstar who exuded world-class celebrity glamour, the kind you saw with Sunil Gavaskar, Amitabh Bachchan or the Beatles; whereas today, after ten uneventful years in office, he is more in the Mohd.Azharuddin bracket.

So the PM is hoping against hope to get a win from this election. It definitely has the potential to be exciting. There are a lot more protesters here in Goa than there were in Delhi, reflecting either a sudden resurgence in social awareness on the part of India’s youth or nice weather.

Also there are more celebrities here. Minutes after I arrived, I saw Sherlyn Chopra, in person, sitting at table mere metres from the giant sand Pope. The Goan Observer is authoritatively reporting that Salman Khan, Sania Mirza, and Bappi Lahri will, or will not, be attending the swearing-in ceremonies. Poonam Pandey, on the other hand, is definitely here. So am I, and you can depend on me to keep you updated. 

Electrify your Cat.

It’s raining so hard, the electricity department can’t keep pace and the electricity keeps shutting off arbitrarily and weird things start to happen.

For instance I’ve noticed my neighbours’ cat has a fluorescent tail.

It’s weird really because when there’s no electricity (which happens most of the time here even during a light shower) this glow-in-the-dark-tail seem to  float eerily through the bushes followed by a trail of fireflies much like a midget bishop’s sceptre leading a candlelight procession of the faithful.

Don’t you just hate it when there’s no electricity? I mean I’m having a hot shower, I drop the soap and voila! The lights go out. Or I’m watching Mallika Sherawat about to disrobe and step into a bubble bath and the TV just shuts down.

I mean what is it with the electricity department and bathing?? And where does all that electricity go after they turn off the tap?

Modern humans tend to take our hot baths, electric lights, fans, televisions, etc. for granted, but thousands of years ago, long before any knowledge of electricity existed, people were aware of shocks from electric fish, but had no electric appliances. This was just as well because there was no place to plug them in. Also the fish wouldn't keep still and kept flopping about.

Then along came Benjamin Franklin who proved, by flying a kite in a thunderstorm, that lightning was powered by the same force as the fish. This also damaged Franklin’s brain and he started speaking only in incomprehensible proverbs, such as, “Fish and visitors stink in three days.” Finally he was given a job running the post office.

   

So the question to ponder is: What in the world is electricity and how does it really work?

Here is a simple experiment that will teach you an important lesson about electricity: On a cool dry day, rub your hands vigorously on a cat’s fur then reach over with the other hand a touch a girl’s metal piercing.

Did you notice how she twitched violently and then slapped your face really hard?  This teaches one that electricity can be a very powerful force, but we must never use it to hurt others unless we need to learn an important lesson about self-preservation.

It also illustrates how an electrical circuit works.  When you rubbed the cats fur, you picked up batches of "electrons", which are very small objects that cats manufacturer in their fur so that they will repel dirt. These electrons travel through the conductive cells in your skin and collect under your fingernails, where they form a spark that leaps to the girl’s metal piercing, then travel down to her palm and back onto your face, thus completing the circuit.

AMAZING ELECTRONIC FACT: If you rubbed the cat’s fur for a really long time without touching anything, you would build up so many electrons that your fingernail would explode!  But there's nothing to worry about unless you have a really patient cat.

After Franklin came a guy called Galvani (an Italian) who attached two different kinds of metal to a dead frog’s unattached leg, and it twitched! I know of another Italian, a lady who can seemingly make a dead political party appear as though it's running a country.

  

Galvani's experiments led to enormous discoveries in human biology. Today skilled surgeons can take a number of human body parts, embed pieces of metal into its muscles, and voila!  Wolverine and Iron Man!

Then came Sir Thomas Edison... of course he was knighted for the simple fact that he concocted a simple electrical circuit :- the electricity department, which sends electricity through a wire to our homes, then immediately gets it back through another wire, then sends it right back to us again. Now, since very few of us have the time to examine our electricity, the electricity department can sell us the same batch of electricity over and over again and never get caught.

In fact I checked, the last time any new electricity was generated in India was in 1963 when the Bhakra-Nangal dams were completed.

So today we give thanks to Galvani’s frog and Edison and Franklin for our electricity which allows us to take instant hot baths and watch bleeped-out audio and endless anti-smoking messages on our mindless television programmes.

Gotta go now, have to try out this new electric toenail-cutter,… uh oh! There go the lights. Sob!! 

Prepping for the Ballot

Camp Goa -- I don’t know why anybody thought it was a good idea to hold the BJP Prime Ministerial nominating convention in Goa. This state has a terrible track record with politics. Does anybody remember 1990? That was the year when Goa had 3 Chief Ministers and President’s rule all in the same year; when the electorate were deeply confused about whether to tick or cross off their candidates’ symbol on the ballot paper. This is not surprising: Voters in India are also deeply confused about what lane they’re driving in, or what, specifically they’re supposed to do when the traffic light changes colour.

So this is the last place where anybody should attempt to nominate somebody for Prime minister. Nevertheless, Goa became the site of a massive convention gathering featuring hundreds of delegates, party leaders, media people, protesters, hookers, random lunatics and another guy with the initials PM of the “We- get- our- kicks- beating- up- girls- in- Mangalore-in- the- name- of- Indian- culture” party.

Until the weekend, the “PM-in- waiting-forever” Lau Purushji had also been planning to come; apparently he was unaware that this is the BJP convention. He changed his mind after a meeting with his top aides that may or may not have involved wearing adult diapers. So, tragically, LKA was not  here.

But there was still a lot of excitement in the air, as well as wind gusts upwards of 50 km per hour, as the monsoon made its way up the west coast, posing a serious threat to the estimated 7 Drishti lifeguards standing on the beach in matching rain slickers warning everybody to stay the hell off the shoreline.

The monsoon rains had already affected the convention: On Friday night, instead of the planned schedule, the BJP thought to hold a very brief session, at which they would nominate NaMo and/or Sushmaji. Then they would declare the convention over, and everybody would go home so as not to miss watching their favourite "Saas, Biwi aur Gulaam" TV serial.

No, that would have been WAY too sane. Instead there were  three more days of speeches by every major NDA figure and newscaster in the nation, living or dead, including the likes of Baba Ramdev. The goal was to demonstrate to a politically aware nationwide convention-viewing TV audience — an estimated 9 people — that NaMo is a regular non-holographic human just like you who feels pain the same way any normal person does when one of his bulletproof cars needs repair.

The BJP also tried to show that Manohar P. is a nice young man who does not, as the Congress and Mr Alimony have been suggesting, want to legalize betting in cricket and prostitution. This is especially important here in Goa, because this is a crucial  state whose voters could decide the election, assuming they can figure out where their polling booths are, which, as I noted earlier, is not a certainty, and depends on how close the nearest bar is situated.

While all this was going on inside the convention, there was plenty of action outside Advani’s house in the streets of Delhi, where a handful of protesters attempted to exercise their constitutional right to annoy pretty much everybody who is not one of them.

On top of all that, there was the relentless approach of the monsoon, which could have major impact on the economy, because Goa is home to an estimated 60 percent of the nation’s strategic reserve of dance bars serving feni.

I am not suggesting for one second that Goa is some kind of cultural backwater. Goa is a major state boasting a wide array of things, as evidenced by this list of List of Five Fascinating Facts about Goa:

1. Goa boasts the world’s largest number of Casino boats that can fit in the smallest stretch of  river.

2. Charles Sobhraj was arrested here in 1986.

3. 13 years later the Saga of the “River Princess” lumbers on.

Fixing a Scandal

I’ll get to those boring Right to Education and National Food Security Bills in a moment. They sound much the same as the earlier political election slogans, “Roti, Kapda aur Makaan”. And it looks as though we’re regressing right back to an earlier era.

 I mean just think about it ……Murthy is back heading up Infosys, Sanjay Dutt is back in jail, Madhuri is back in Bollywood, Nawaz Sharif is back as the Pakistan PM, the GDP is back to 5% and Dalmiya is back in the BCCI. OMG !! It’s the 90’s!!!

But first and foremost (in the interests of increasing the television TRP’s of all the Indian news channels) everyone and their mothers need to know about the IPL fixing and gambling scandal.
I found out about this while walking in Candolim one evening, when I passed a bungalow called “BannersBroker.” Through the window I could see men shouting passionately at a TV screen, which was showing a horse race. Right away I suspected that these men were bookies, because :-
 (a) only bookies believe that race horses on television can hear them, and...
 (b) most of them had large briefcases and sported the latest smart phones. One or two of them were missing key teeth (the men, I mean).

 I decided, as a concerned citizen, that I needed to investigate. So I went inside "BannersBroker", and sure enough, it was a bookie operation, operating openly. Then I saw it: A sign that said “BET ON ANY IPL EVENT.”
 I was stunned !! Indian Cricket is not supposed to be about money. Indian Cricket is supposed to be about sportsmanship, about national pride, about the untainted beauty of pure competition and love for the "Gentleman’s Game"!! So you can imagine how excited I was when I found out I could bet on it.

I put ₹100 on whether or not anyone would be slapped, hugged or called a “monkey” by Bhajji of the Mumbai Indians, who were in the semi-finals.

Then I scurried on back home to watch Maria Sharapova play her singles match in the French Open. The match live-streamed on the Internet.
They have the Internet streaming over here in Goa, although most times it goes in the opposite direction.
Maria Sharapova was playing the Chinese Su-Wei Hsieh, who – if you know anything about international competition at this level – were two women in short skirts, wearing matching underwear.

It was a tense match. Never before have I watched women’s single tennis with so much interest in the actual score. But in the end, Maria won, which meant that she moved on to the next round, and – more important for Indian Cricket – I won ₹200.

My point is, there is Cricket gambling going on here, and I for one am shocked. Rest assured that I will investigate further.

Speaking of scandals involving sport: It turns out that athletes pee in the Olympic swimming pool. Seriously. Swimmers Michael Phelps and Ryan Lochte revealed this to the Wall Street Journal.
And in an interview with famous personality Sunny Leone, Ryan said, “I think there’s just something about getting into chlorinated water that makes you just automatically go.”
Then Sherlyn Chopra, Hugh Hefner’s play-mate revealed that she sometimes peed in the Playboy Mansion pool. Not to be outdone, another athlete Abhinav Bindra, revealed that he, too, peed in the Olympic pool in Beijing. This was especially disturbing, because Bindra is an air-rifle shooter and we all know what that means.
No, that last one was a joke, and I hope China does not take offense, because their swimmers are trained in martial arts as well and could crush Abhinav’s skull like a grape using only a thumb and forefinger.

But all kidding aside, there apparently is an epidemic of peeing going on in swimming pools, and it took Shilpa Shetty to raise the troubling question: Why, exactly, is Sunny Leone a famous personality? To which Sreesanth replied: That's because she does not need a towel, considering she has nothing to hide.

Dolly Nightingale & The Common Cold

It’s the changing seasons I imagine, that’s what made me get the cold, it invaded my whole being, turning me into a quivering blob of snot and phlegm accompanied by 2000 kmph sneeze winds and a fever that turned my musculature to jelly.

There are three kinds of cold victims: the blowers, the snifflers and the nose-blowing-hawking-phlegm-spitters. I found myself among the snifflers, with extra sneeze velocity.

However for overall capacity to make you cringe and the ability to make you walk out of the movie theatre I’d have to give props to the phlegm spitters. And they are everywhere. Indians think nothing of spitting. They encourage it in their young. In kindergarten my gym coach once spent a whole day trying to teach us how to spit. He never had a girlfriend.

So I say we petition the Supreme Court to give the pharmaceutical companies another four months to cure the common cold, and if they don’t we turn the problem over to a more competent outfit, like Facebook.

What are these pharmaceutical companies doing anyway? They get bundles of cash for research, to buy furniture, and laboratories, and white coats and rubber gloves and other laboratory devices, and it seems all they want to do is invent obscure new medications for diseases nobody, you or I, know, or ever heard about.

MORENABAD- A team of research scientists from the Neva Neva Research Laboratories here has successfully implanted a sows ear in a fifteen year old elephant. “We really don’t know why we did it. We just had this sows ear and this fifteen year old elephant, so we figured why not see if we can develop a growth hormone. Next week we will place a lithium battery in a dead chicken and attempt to revive its brain function so that we can develop a vaccine for the clucking virus*.

[clucking virus n. an infection found commonly in henpecked husbands.] 

In the meantime crores of people out there are contracting the common cold and generally making the world a messier place to live in. Isn’t it bad enough having to live with wall-to-wall garbage, packs of stray dogs on every corner and rampant corruption?

It seems to me that the only organizations trying to do anything about the common cold are those home remedy organizations that advertise on TV.

In a typical TV commercial:( the scene opens where the mother walks in and speaks to her child who is lying on the floor in his pyjamas.)

MOTHER: Beta, are you ready to go for Grandpas 105^th birthday party at the Old Age Home?

SON: I don’t think I can Ma. It’s this awful cold. My temperature is 150 degrees and my ingrown toenail is turning blue.

MOTHER: Here, drink this Balgam-Dur-Karo

SON: Balgam-Dur-Karo?

MOTHER: Balgam-Dur-Karo

(The scene shifts to a white room where an elderly actor wearing a white coat, steel-rimmed glasses and holding a test tube of fluorescent liquid is standing behind a desk. If the camera got closer you would see that the actor is not wearing pants.)

ACTOR: Our research has shown that Balgam-Dur-Karo, an infusion of ocean extracts and ancient organic herbs from the Mohenjo-daro civilization is an extremely effective cure for colds, cough, nervous disorders, stuttering, ED and gout. Take Balgam-Dur-Karo for health and vitality.

(Cut to Old Age Home)

SON: Wow, you know Grandpa, that Balgam-Dur-Karo, an infusion of ocean extracts and ancient organic herbs, is wonderful. I am fit and fine now and only have a slight memory loss!

MOTHER: I’m beginning to feel a sneeze coming on.

GRANDPA: Your Grandmother seems to think the way to avoid colds is to consume ten thousand milligrams a day of vitamin C, she's forever gulping down vitamin C pills the size of bricks. But she still catches a cold. Me, I drink large quantities of beer and it works like a charm. So far I haven’t had one cold that I can remember clearly.  

SON: And how are you feeling today, Grandma? ….Grandma?.... Grandma?... Uhoh!

……

As for me, I have a guardian angel up above (actually living on the floor above me) and her name is Dolly. In my fevered state I saw an apparition; Dolly in her diaphanous salwar kameez, serenely floating down the staircase on a cloud, bringing with her a vial of healing mystic ayurvedic potion. And before you could say “Phlegm be gone!’ or “Vasakadyarishtam” it was over. I was free of the dreaded cold that incarcerated and wasted me for four days, and am now back to my insouciant ways.