Champissage.
If you are done with reading and re-reading the above word and *FEEL* like WANTING to read further, I declare.....
I am NOT writing about champagne. So, people with vicarious motives can move on and not read further. OK.OK … WAIT… HOLD ON. A bottle of Champagne (free), kept in a room full of people, is like a magnet kept in a stack of ferrous particles. So, to cut the story short, I ain't writing bout wine, but CHAMPI.
I enter the gate of the colony where my HOME is located. I see a few school kids playing cricket. I go up to the batsman and ask “AREY!! EK BALL!!" He consents. I let my bag rest behind the stumps. I hit a few deliveries and feel tired. MENTALLY. Much to the delight to the batsman, I give him back his bat.
I see my mother T waiting for me at the door. She saw,through the kitchen window, me coming from across the road. My depleted face clearly tells her that I had a ‘LONG DAY’. She is off to the kitchen to prepare tea and some edible stuff. My head spun the way it did during theULTA -PULTA-EXPRESS stunt. I deposit my body on a chair that is NOT designed to my size. My body press fits into it. With some cottage cheese ‘convex’ing through the chair. SIGH.
I hear a 756564 dB noise from the kitchen that carried along with it sentences such as “JALDI SE HAATH MOOH DHOLO!” and “SOCKS IN THE WASHING M/C.” in MARATHI.
If you are done with reading and re-reading the above word and *FEEL* like WANTING to read further, I declare.....
I am NOT writing about champagne. So, people with vicarious motives can move on and not read further. OK.OK … WAIT… HOLD ON. A bottle of Champagne (free), kept in a room full of people, is like a magnet kept in a stack of ferrous particles. So, to cut the story short, I ain't writing bout wine, but CHAMPI.
I enter the gate of the colony where my HOME is located. I see a few school kids playing cricket. I go up to the batsman and ask “AREY!! EK BALL!!" He consents. I let my bag rest behind the stumps. I hit a few deliveries and feel tired. MENTALLY. Much to the delight to the batsman, I give him back his bat.
I see my mother T waiting for me at the door. She saw,through the kitchen window, me coming from across the road. My depleted face clearly tells her that I had a ‘LONG DAY’. She is off to the kitchen to prepare tea and some edible stuff. My head spun the way it did during the
I hear a 756564 dB noise from the kitchen that carried along with it sentences such as “JALDI SE HAATH MOOH DHOLO!” and “SOCKS IN THE WASHING M/C.” in MARATHI.
After a 15 minute ablution session, I again deposit myself on that choking chair. I sit there thinking of nothing. Only a LONG DAY can make you think of NOTHING, I feel. The face is still slightly wet. Residual water drips from the washed hair and comes flowing to the eye-brows. It takes some warmth from the heated and exhausted eyes along with it to the cheeks. I feel like getting some shut eye, but it is just 19:00 Hrs. And the family sanskar says that 19:00 Hrs is the LAKSHMI-ENTERING-INTO-THE-HOUSE-TIME. So, I can’t touch the bed.
Even the MASALA CHAI and the butter toast did not help me get away with the headache. I sit there doing and thinking of NOTHING. I close my eyes. I can feel my breath. I hear some random sounds and conjecture MOTHER’s presence in the room. I do not open my eyes. I can feel the heat inside my body.
Suddenly, I feel a ‘flow’ on my scalp. By the time I open my eyes, MOTHER’s hands take charge of my hair and the scalp. I smell the ALMOND OIL. I open my eyes, feeling good. MOTHER is and as always is SPOT ON, on what her kids need. It was a head massage and not sleep, I longed for. HER fingers do a great job. SUBHANALLAH. I utter. By the time, she is done with the head massage, my eyes are watery. MOTHER says” IT’S HEAT COMING OUT!” I agree I say. It is a lot better than a saloon barber trounce on your scalp.
No matter how long you receive a head massage, you always want a 2 minute extension. A final touch up.
The fagged feel is gone. I feel fresh. FRESH as the MERWAN’S cakes.
VISIT THE LINK:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MnSIp76CvUI&feature=player_embedded
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And stop April Fool's Day Jokes like " DEKH TERE PEECHE KYA HAI?"
The person looks back. He notices no one.
" HAHAHAHA!
April Fool!! Dabba Gul!!
Dabbe mein Joker!!
Tu mera Naukar!!"
LATER.
The content may appear too trivial but it makes one too nostalgic and acts as a emotional poison especially for the species who haven't had this experience in 8 years and won't have it for a year more or 2 at least(and probably never because of Swawalamban Policy or "Lahan Baal aahes kaa!!" (fear of) taunt). Anyhow, keep writing. Don't let the foreign BODIES forget what they are missing. Also, write some blogs on college किस्से. Because some MOST ELIGIBLE people are getting so busy that they do not have time to call or return a call. Probably your blogs might help them to remember a country known as India and some people from that country, who were supposed to be friends some time in past...or may be thats my PERCEPTION.
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