Scary toys anyone ......

 

Let me come to the point straight away. We had a doll in the house and eerie things began happening after we planned to get rid of it, and that’s what this is about.

So, let’s get to the beginning. Jerry was a vinyl, ‘boy doll’, and quite good looking! He was about a foot long, the size of a small baby, dressed in blue, and all cute and cuddly, with deep blue eyes, and a lovely expression on his face. The doll was a gift for my elder daughter on her third birthday, and she loved it. In fact, it was her first gift that year, and hence extra special. She spent hours playing and talking to it, as all young girls do. As young parents, we attended doll tea parties and doll birthdays, and it was fun and cute. The children’s’ friends came over with their dolls too and the kids spent many an enjoyable holiday in their make-believe world.

Then we had our second baby girl, a few years later, and the doll was passed on. In fact, both played with it for years. As and when necessary, it was washed in soap and water, dried in the sun, and dressed in a fresh set of baby clothes.

After being with us for about 8 years or so, Jerry was worn out, and was soon relegated to being ‘an old toy’, as both girls took to ‘Barbies’ in a big way. Jerry was never played with, began looking dusty, neglected, and dirty. However, whenever we went to throw it out, or give it away, we never did, due to sentimental reasons. The girls refused to part with it.

This is where this story takes an unmistakeably sinister turn.

One morning we found “Jerry boy” as he was affectionately called, with his neck off! Now mark you - we had no dog or cat in the house and the doll had been relegated to the corner of a  top shelf in a large wooden cupboard. Rather than keep it like that, my wife picked up a needle and thread, stitched the neck firmly back on and put the doll back in the cupboard. We forgot about the incident for a few months.   Lo and behold, when we decided to dispose of the cupboard and get a replacement, everything was taken out of the cupboard and put on the bed. Amidst all the clothes, we spotted Jerry- with his neck about to fall off once again. Something just did not seem right. This transpired on two more occasions – the last time it did, the clothes were all torn, and the face scratched. It could have been my imagination, but I felt that the lips seemed darker than normal, and the eyebrows slightly raised and pulled together. That was the icing on the cake. I immediately had the doll put in a large plastic bag and without telling the two girls, I threw it in the bin outside. Luckily, the garbage van was there at the very moment, and we never saw or heard of ‘Jerry boy’ again.

We then shifted to another house, and all was well for a few months. Then, surprise of surprises, we came home from school one afternoon & saw a doll in the house. It was a blond haired, light eyed, porcelain doll, had on a pink lace dress, and looked new.  We had a house maid, and when we asked her where it had come from, she was as confused as us. My elder daughter said that she had taken it out from a box in the   toy cupboard. However far- out the explanation, we had no reason to disbelieve her, and presumed that one of their friends had probably left it at our place after the last sleep over and would collect it on her next visit.

 It looked adorable.

As it was never claimed, we were left with no other alternative but to keep it, it assuming that it could   have been a birthday gift, that we had somehow overlooked. The girls played with it now and then and all was honky dory. It sat with the large collection of barbies on a low shelf and somehow fitted in, despite being the odd one out.   

Then we went for the summer vacation and by the time we returned, the doll seemed to have taken on a life of its own. Now first and foremost it was one of those old-fashioned talking dolls. The doll's talking mechanism was activated by a small button on its back. Pressing the button turned a grooved disc inside the doll's body, and a metal needle produced sound from the disc by traveling through the grooves. What was odd was the fact that although the doll spoke English, it was with a strange accent. There were two prerecorded sentences. the first was ‘Hello, my name is Mia’. The second was, “I want to play with you.” Those were followed by the doll laughing! If you ask me, the laughter was hideous and quite repulsive, but the girls laughed along and seemed to enjoy it so who was I to complain!

The first time this happened we woke with a start. It was well past midnight when the doll, which was lying at the corner of the bed, occupied by the kids, started talking and laughing! It spoke the same two sentences repeatedly - and as for the laugh itself- it scared me.

I have always imagined myself as some sort of a detective, so I worked it out, much to the chagrin of my wife, that one of the kids had woken from her sleep, played with the doll, activated the talk button, and then dozed off. Nevertheless, we did not put too much thought into the incident and dozed off again. We woke with a start at about five am with the doll on the ground and yes, it was talking again and oh that sinister laughter!

I managed to convince my wife using the same logic once again, that it was just a bizarre coincidence, that had happened twice in one night.

I am not going to draw this out, but this doll often began talking at abnormal times - at night, in the afternoon, when it was in the cupboard and even when we placed it in the showcase! At times we only heard the awful laughter. I would then jump and switch it off.

Our younger daughter found this quite amusing while the elder one felt that our fears were unfounded, although unable to come up with any fathomable or plausible explanation herself.   

As there was no sentimental attachment to this doll, and we were leaving for Dubai in a week, we left it in the house along with a few other toys, rather than throw it away.

The next tenant probably found it. Not sure if it is still talking and laughing or whether that show was only for our benefit.

Would love to know.

I have the WhatsApp blues

 

  

Yippee – I have been added to the 27^th, 30^th or 34^th WhatsApp group!

My popularity is soaring, and I am over the Moon or Mars or Neptune for that matter! Truly, my joy knows no bounds, and my cup runneth over.

On a more serious note, I am overwhelmed & at times feel swamped, as WhatsApp and WhatsApp groups are playing ducks and drakes with the world, often stressing me and probably others out, and taking up valuable time. I am positive  I am not alone in this harrowing quagmire.

Do I reply?  Must I reply? What if I don’t? What will they think? Will they be annoyed?

These questions vex me.

There is a belief that when WhatsApp entered the world, our lives changed forever, and things will only get more irksome. This is now a self-evident truth

When WhatsApp first started, I enjoyed it. Now I am beginning to loathe it. I think I know what you will advise – “Delete WhatsApp and be done with it”. However, that is easier said than done, for innumerable reasons.

Was checking my WhatsApp messages at 5 am today, and I that is insane – I have been added to innumerable groups and I get and send far too many WhatsApp messages every day. I have joined some groups willingly. I enjoy them and the light-hearted banter they provide- some for work related purposes -  as for others, the less said the better.

  Surprisingly, I have lost track of the number of groups I am part of - extended family, immediate family, various work related, hometown/ country, school and college, residential society, musical pals, and new friend’s groups. Old pupils, old friends, vague acquaintances, classmates, poetry lovers, story writers, cat lovers, baking aficionados, just for fun, animal lovers and collector groups. You go to a wedding, party, picnic, or barbecue and someone or the other makes and adds you to a new group to either plan the next event or just keep in touch.

 Thankfully, this has not happened after a funeral yet, but you never know. Someone may think of ‘funeral buddies’ or ‘pall bearers! God forbid if that happens!

Many of these groups have their parts and subgroups too. Numerous people I know are on common groups, and that’s even worse. Almost all have been started by people I know, so that’s the awkward part!

 I am the administrator of no group, as I believe that I lack those essential leadership skills.

However, I am literally up to the gills, after being inundated with good jokes, lame jokes, photographs, videos, good morning, good night, & have a nice day messages, unnecessary videos, irritating poems, blessings, memes, tips and tricks, official messages, and the like - daily. Then there are those appallingly, grisly chain messages, informing me that if I do not forward to ten people within five minutes, I will fall ill, or my nose will fall off or something to that effect. Some promise rewards from above!

 This morning I counted over 75 WhatsApp messages, and then stopped counting, as my head began spinning, my nose itching & my eyes crossing.

At midnight, India time, my phone routinely goes ‘ping’. On the few occasions I have been awake, and that is rare, I have scrolled down to see ‘Good Morning’ messages beginning to fill my inbox.  For goodness’s sake have mercy, ‘GET TO BED’ and let me have a peaceful night’s sleep! I am no nyctophile. There are still a few hours for morning to break.  

Occasionally, there will be a group message during the witching hours, when the owls are out hunting, and within a few minutes everyone else is commenting, advising, suggesting, congratulating, counseling, thanking, condoling or whatever. Don’t people have a life? I can understand if there is an emergency, but making it a habit, is nauseating, irritating and oh so very exasperating.

I was once on a plane to Pune, and about to doze off, when some people got talking and I got drawn into the conversation because I opened my big mouth and said that Pune was home!

 Yes, you guessed it right – one over enthusiastic gentleman was so delighted with his newfound friends, which included me, that he immediately took everyone’s number; there were seven of us; took a group selfie at past one in the morning, immediately formed a WhatsApp group, without so much as a by your leave, named it ‘Happy Pune travellers’ and sent us the photograph while we were still at passport control. Everyone looked dishevelled, disoriented, uninterested and groggy.  By the time I got into the taxi, I had received jokes, snaps of his family and pet dogs, a few holidays snaps of him in Dubai, and an invitation to dinner at his place to catch up.  He requested all of us to reply with similar pictures, so that we could get to know each other better. I never did, I never went, and I ensured that I promptly exited the group the same day!

Now please do not get me wrong – some of the groups I am part of are useful, and save time, which otherwise would be spent in sending emails but there must be a limit. Others are relaxing, amusing, help us keep in touch and I enjoy them.  

At times if you are part of a large group and everyone comments on a particular post, you feel compelled to do the same, lest you be termed anti-social, uninterested, or uninvolved, and we all know how quick society is to become judge, jury, and executioner!

I was once part of a group and tried to exit quietly and politely after not actively participating for over a month. Within the hour I got umpteen messages asking me why I was angry, did I have more exciting things to do, had I joined a rival group, calling me boring, and one or two which bordered on uncivil, and insulting! Leaving a WhatsApp group is like leaving the dinner table and saying, ‘I am fed up with you bores, hence I am off home’!

 I will admit that I have, over the years, joined this bandwagon of busybodies and at times forward unnecessary stuff too. It is so easy to pick up dirty habits. I plan to cease doing so, as I feel it is not sensible or practical – that is my summer resolution!

So, if you don’t get a reply to a message you know why!

Remember the hit song Hotel California?

"Relax, " said the night man,
"We are programmed to receive.
You can check-out any time you like,
But you can never leave! "

Sums up Social media, doesn’t it?

 

 

(I do not mean to hurt or insult anyone – family, friends, colleagues, and ex pupils, as WhatsApp does have its plus points but this is becoming a case of ‘too much for an old man to handle).

 

Stop this witless madness please

 

Which wooden headed, bird brained, dingbats have concluded that everything should reopen, no masks need be worn, and social distancing is a thing of the past?

Declaring ‘Independence’ from Covid is certainly premature I should say.  

Here in the UAE, we are still so very careful, and masks, social distancing and safety rules are being followed conscientiously. We are learning to live with Covid, and that is intelligent, because Covid has not gone away, by any stretch of imagination.  

However, the newspapers this morning carried bizarre stories, of how governments, in some parts of the world had made such doltish decisions, and it filled me with a sense of angst, as cases are still rising!

Let’s put things in the correct perspective please.

Now I am no medical, or to put in more precisely, No Vaccine expert , but I have a certain amount of common sense, or at least I think I do, and hence I beg to be enlightened.

The Delta variant is hovering around the world menacingly, threatening to strike any and everywhere on a large scale, and run rampant. If intelligent reports are to be believed, this will be the third, and even more treacherous wave, so we need to be prepared and take the necessary precautions.  Medical professionals and other experts in the field have commented upon and debated this topic over the last three weeks or more, so it is not just a prediction of Nostradamus. It is the truth.

 Although agencies and governments are working around the clock, vaccines are still in awfully   short supply in many countries. About 15 % of the world’s population are fully vaccinated and 25 % of the world’s population have received just one dose- both woefully low figures- and I am not blaming anyone.  We are trying and it is difficult – point noted. Recovery rates are improving in some parts of the world, and that is a good sign.

So, pray, what is the hurry to proclaim ‘VICTORY’ and throw caution to the wind? It is this very impatience which caused the horrifying second wave. Have our brains gone so foggy, that we have forgotten the suffering and the deaths of just a few months ago? Do we want a repeat performance?

  The Delta variant was declared a “variant of concern” by the World Health Organization in mid- May. The designation is used when there is increased evidence that a variant is more transmissible, causes more severe illness or reduces the effectiveness of vaccines or treatments.

Put on the television and you will see milling, joyous crowds, in celebratory modes, without masks, in many countries, shopping, holidaying, partying and at various games. This must be the height of insanity.  Covid is a ‘world pandemic’ and we have seen how easily it breaches boundaries. This is no rocket science. What further proof of impending danger are we waiting for?

Yes, we all want economies to recover, and we all want to get back to normal as soon as possible but this witless madness should cease and we MUST BE CAREFUL and ALERT.

For goodness’s sake – ‘Wake up and smell the roses’, or are you waiting for the roses on your grave?

 

 Remember, “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread’’

UNSOLICITED ADVICE on a SUMMER AFTERNOON

 

If you stroll in the desert

Be prepared for sand between your toes

If you sail on choppy seas

You may end up – where the wind blows

 

If you saunter with thieves

You could, to the gallows go

If you work on a farm

Be prepared to reap and sow

 

If it’s a flashy life you fancy

If you’re that snazzy, swanky type

There could be pitfalls you encounter

If you just believe the hype

 

Friendships could be deceptive

Close companionship even so

Be conscious of the world around you

And live to regret no more.

Appearances are often so misleading

 

This post is for GENTS only – LADIES please ignore as it will NOT interest you.

 

Well, I have written about haircuts before, but this is slightly different. First and foremost, my hair and nails grow very fast, and I am not sure if that is good or bad. Not Googling it either, because one never knows what Google will throw up!

 Last evening my hair was irritating me – it happens when my hair reaches a particular length. Hence, I decided to go and have my haircut. I have found a nice, clean saloon, quite close to my house. No, it is not 5 star or anything, but the last few times the guy there gave me a nice haircut, so I went back again.

It was already a little past 8.45 pm and hence quite uncharacteristic of me, as I am usually an ‘early morning hair cut person’. Anyway, let me get on with my story. I have this horrible habit of digressing at times.

 Now, whenever I visit this saloon, I am always greeted warmly by the manager and his assistant, a smart young man, who always cuts my hair and does a brilliant job – very much to my satisfaction.  I am offered tea and biscuits and they always enquire about the family. Both are very genial, always smiling, and eager to please.  

Yesterday, when I walked into the saloon, something was a trifle different. The shop seemed to have been rearranged and I was greeted by a stranger who himself looked like an actor in a crime thriller. When I enquired about the manager and the man who usually cuts my hair, I was told that they were out and would return soon. This stranger offered to cut my hair, but I told him that I would prefer to wait. Something about him was shifty. Did I see him grimace when I refused his offer?

Anyway, he grudgingly agreed, and went about his business, pottering about the shop, rearranging items meticulously on the counter& counting the notes and coins in the safe box- all which seemed rather unnecessary.  Meanwhile, I picked up a magazine and feigned browsing through it, while keeping a close eye on him. His whole manner and unnecessary fiddling about with the items on the counter was weird. This man was beginning to worry me, and I thought of walking out. My usual calm disposition and self-assurance seemed to have dropped a notch or two for no concrete reason.

Was my heart beating faster? Was I getting a panic attack? Was I overreacting?

Let me tell you what he looked like, and leave you to judge, as to whether I was being unnecessarily distrustful & paranoid.  His was stocky, and one could tell that he worked out for sure. His black shirt and jeans had seen better days. His eyes were blood shot, and he had a moustache which was badly in need a trim. He needed a shave as well.  There was something ruthless about his whole persona that I could not fathom. He wore a flashy gold watch to match the two gold chains around his neck. He had two mobile phones and made and received calls on both in a span of fifteen minutes. He was a busy man indeed. And oh yes, lest I forget to mention it – there was a stud in his ear – it looked like a diamond. Cover the bottom half of his face with a large black mask and what have you?

Meanwhile my mind went into overdrive. Could this chap have done away with the owner, threatened the other workers, made them leave and then taken over the shop by force? Could this have happened that evening itself and was I the first customer after the coup, so to say? Was he a barber in the first place? Did he know how to cut hair? Was mine going to be the ‘first haircut he gave in his new avatar? There were so many unanswered questions.

Suddenly, I was awoken from my reverie, by him telling me that the manager and his assistant would not be back for an hour or so, and hence he would be cutting my hair. I don’t know whether he was a hypnotist or not, but I got up, sat down on the proffered chair without protesting any further, and prepared myself to be sacrificed! So, this was how they did it. I had read so many stories in the past and they all seemed to be finally catching up with me.

I was tense and ready to jump and bolt in case he made any sudden moves or tried to strangulate me.

For some strange reason, he began by putting a new blade into the razor! I pretended not to notice and instead, stared blankly at the programme on the television set, which I was sure he had switched on to distract me. It seemed to be some sort of a murder mystery on Netflix, and that did nothing to calm my jarring nerves. However, my heart skipped a beat or two when I saw him place the razor on the table near at hand. The razor was only needed at the end, wasn’t it?

My fertile imagination immediately went into overdrive and the whole scene flashed before my eyes in a matter of seconds.

So, this was it – the door had undoubtedly been locked from within. He had obviously done this craftily, while I was reading the magazine. How did I miss it?  He was not a barber by any length of imagination. The lights would soon be switched off. I would be threatened with the razor blade. My mobile and purse would then be snatched. I would be tied up.  He would then walk out nonchalantly after threatening me not to report the matter, or else face dire consequences for my indiscretion. This was not his shop &he would never be seen in the area again.

There was a new protagonist for sure………

He then began cutting my hair. Within the first few minutes I felt foolish for my scepticism and presumptuous suspicions. His scissors flew over my head in experienced hands while he engaged me in an interesting conversation on cricket and football. Over the span of the next fifteen or twenty minutes, he washed my hair, blow dried it, used scissors, clippers, shears and a variety of razors and combs. He then used the blow drier again and followed it up an amazing head massage. He then brought out two different mirrors to show me the back of my head. All this while he told me about his family his school going children back in Delhi and how he had landed in Dubai a few hours ago and had come straight to the shop.

 I felt like a new man.   A slightly foolish new man, to be more precise, but a man in control of his life once again.

While I was making the payment, the door opened, and two familiar faces walked in- the manager and the one who usually cuts my hair.

They then apologised for being away & officially introduced me to the ‘Owner of the business’ the one who had just given me a terrific haircut.  

Appearances are often so misleading.

 God bless you Suresh Bhai and thank you!