Planning to buy a trap

 It happened last summer, and although it made us a trifle apprehensive, we passed it off as a stray incident. There were two dark guys near our garage. 

When I saw them that day,it was dusk. Not wanting to seem scared, I said nothing .

It happend again last evening . They were there- apparently friends- hanging around near our garage once again. 

They were strolling around as if they owned the place. 

I am not someone to take such things lying down, and detest being indirectly intimidated, so I casually walked in and told my wife what had transpired. 

Her look was enough to tell me to 'man up', and besides she was cooking so I saw no help coming from that direction. 

Not wanting to engage in dangerous hand to hand combat, in case it came to that , I picked up the hockey stick   behind the door and strode out manfully. 

That hockey stick has only seen one game, but that's another story.

By the time I walked out they had vanished.

I was a trifle relieved, because I am not exactly very brave or a warrior of any sort .

 I also wear spectacles, am not young , it was dusk and I am a bit  overweight - I trust you get what I am saying - my wish had come true- they had gone- vamoosed ! 

However , this morning, as I opened the door and went out to feed the two stray cats that have adopted us, something told me I was being watched. I was immediately on high alert .

One guy was hiding behind the large trash can and peering at me. His accomplice was  obviously in the vicinity because I know that these guys work in pairs. 

I rushed back in , picked up the hockey stick, rushed out in attack mode - shouting. 

My manly presence - the hockey stick held menacingly in my  right hand and the warrior like yell, was enough to see them scoot like cowards.

I chased them down a narrow path  for about 10 meters , as I was determined they knew who was boss. Also to ensure that they never returned for fear of more serious repercussions. I smiled to myself in satisfaction.  This was a sweet victory .

I was breathing heavily . In the dim light I searched for my spectacles that had fallen down in the meele. 

Thankfully I hadn't stamped them . My slipper strap had broken as well but I needed a new pair in any case . 

With a sense of relief and triumph , and my heart still thumping ,I went upstairs to inform my wife that she needed to fear no longer - they would never return. 

These field rats are really a pain. Hope I don't see them again.

In any case am planning to buy a trap!

More like my cat

 This is a short post. 

Definitely not a story.

No it's not part of my upcoming book. 

It's not funny or even slightly humourous. 

It's not a sad reflection of life.

It's nothing super interesting or highly intelligent 

It's not about my favourite topics like ALLAHABAD CIVIL LINES  NOSTALGIC MEMORIES The Bishop's School, Pune etc.

It's not about my walks around the lake,  being chased by ducks. 

Not about me getting older and wiser. Definitely not about my weight gain and diets.

Certainly not about my hair cuts, my family or my nature walks.

Have I bored you enough ? 

Well if you're still reading this, then you are one of my super sweet relatives,  friends, colleagues or old boys who believe that ' maybe' he has some surprise to give us on this Sunday afternoon.

Well I do.

I think I am becoming more like my cat!

Well leaving you to judge.

My hair has begun to turn the colour of her fur and I have had to cancel that ! 

I take naps during the day on weekends- one or two.

Have become a trifle lazy.

Quite bossy as well.

Don't fancy being cuddled to often.

Not keen on posing for photographs

Look unkempt at times.

Often go into the garden and stare aimlessly into the bushes and trees.

More into dry food - gravy occasionally 

I like treats 

Am becoming a bit of a loner - though not yet a recluse

Love to curl up on the sofa

A dark cool bedroom in the afternoon is what I crave.

Love putting my head into the fridge !

My nails have started growing faster

Need hair  cuts more often.

I can stare you down .

Love small meals .

Irritable at times - especially when hungry .

Your thoughts are welcome. !

Wars in the world

 The newspapers and journalists are seemingly fatigued with constant reporting on wars in the world. This war fatigue is affecting readers as well, as everything seems to be playing out in predictable slow motion.

Audiences around the world are tuning out of war coverage due to burnout, as they feel powerless to change anything. 

There are endless important issues like climate change  ,economic instability, education and social justice issues, which are unfortunately not getting sufficiently highlighted. 

Instead we are being bombarded umpteen times a day by 24/7 news channels, social media platforms and outlets about the two main wars playing out.

 Sadly, invasions, escalations and death have become the most newsworthy items.

The whole world is denouncing  the Israel - Palestine conflict. So also the Russia - Ukraine conflict.

At the United Nations , various UN bodies, The human rights Council and tThe general assembly have openly reproached Israel for the death and destruction. 

Amnesty International have condemned violence on both sides.

The Human rights watch, The European Union and The Arab League continue to attempt to mediate while chastising &  calling on both sides to show restraint to prevent further death and destruction .

The same bodies have denounced Russia while disapproving of further escalation of the war with Ukraine. 

Both Russia and Ukraine have been rebuked by Nato, the G7 and others. 

With what result?

It is apparent that Russia, Ukraine,  Palestine and Israel are all intent on having their way with even bothering to heed advice from all quarters 

They have shown scant respect for the United Nations and the diplomatic efforts of the UN Secretary General and umpteen special envoys.

Humanitarian workers have also been targeted.  

Sanctions and resolutions have been taken with a pinch of salt and the Security Council looks like a toothless tiger that can do little but growl .

The International criminal court has launched investigations but apparently no one cares .

Various peacekeeping operations have failed and geopolitical tensions have surfaced time and again.

Third part mediation seems the way forward and in fact ,the only way to drive some sense into this looming catastrophe.

Possibly if the Arab League, European Union and African Union work together,  they may be able to ensure that better sense prevails thus preventing an open conflict that pulls everyone into a third world war .

When will better sense prevail?

FROM TURMOIL TO TRANQUILITY

 "From Turmoil to Tranquility: A World Transformed"

We live in a world of restless strain,

Where dog eats dog- where  shadows feign,

Backstabbers weave their silent plots,

Land mafias  take, whether it’s their or not.

 

The roads are raging, tempers flare,

With brazen queue breakers, who never care.

Noise and anger fills the air,

And hyperarousal breeds despair.

Eyes dart, scanning every place,

Hypervigilance sets the pace.

We’re always waiting, always poised,

For threats we’ve learned, we can’t avoid.

Paranoia whispers near,

Breeding doubt, instilling fear.

Who’s a friend? Who’s a foe?

In this fractured world, we never know.

Dramatic swings of mood and mind,

Take us high, leave us blind.

Joy one moment, grief the next,

We’re pulled apart, we feel perplexed.

Argument is the common tongue,

Where battles fought are never won.

Delusions cloud the truth we seek,

The strong are fierce, the gentle weak.

Judgment fails, the lines are blurred,

And coping feels so much deferred.

We falter in this frenzied state,

Impaired, we bow beneath the weight.

Yet somewhere in the noise and din,

A whisper calls us from within.

Amidst the clamor and the fight,

A flicker grows into a light

For even in this world so wild,

The heart still bears the soul of a child.

What if we stood, refused to fall,

Extended grace, embraced it all?

A smile - in place of harsh retorts,

Forgiveness -  rather than retorts.

A world where kindness shapes our stride,

Where peace and patience override.

Where Road rage turns to gentle pace,

And backstabbers find their saving grace.

The land grabbers learn to give, not take,

And hearts once hard begin to break—

Open, soft, and filled with care,

For those around them, unaware.

We choose this path, this road of light,

And in the darkness, burn so bright.

For in this world, we still have choice—

To lift each other, raise our voice.

The storms may rage, but we stand tall,

With open hearts, we conquer all.

In unity, we’ll rise above,

To build a world of peace and love.

mg

Haircut

 So this evening I decided I needed a haircut. This was much to the annoyance of my wife, who always feels that I do not need one. It often leads to an argument. My hair can be creeping down my back but it is always the same refrain, “it’s already so short”

Being lord and master of myself – or so I think, off I went.

Now let me put things in the right perspective- For me haircuts are a bore, a drag  and a waste of time but a necessity so I endure the 25 minutes or so that it takes.

In my hometown,  as a young boy,  I had my haircut a shop named “UP TO DATE”. He was an old person and definitely OUT OF DATE but  someone once said names are deceiving – don’t ask me who and when .

In Pune, I   resided in The Bishops School campus and the same barber who cut the boys’ hair gave me a haircut as well. He was called “HANDSOME”. I was told that many years ago, some boarders gave him the nickname and it stuck. HANDSOME cut my hair for 20 years and I never complained. He did a good job – he came home and all was well. 

When I moved to Dubai in 2001, I needed a haircut so I went downstairs from where I resided and found a Pakistani barbershop. 19 years later and I now drive 5 km to the same barbershop although there is one just a hundred meters from where I stay. I am sure you have realized by now that I am not fussy where haircuts are concerned.  Actually I don’t have much hair on my head and its pretty fine .

The shop is clean, the barbers are polite and that is all that matters.  I fail to understand what all the fuss is about where haircuts and barbers are concerned.

So back to this evening. Being in Pune and with no HANDSOME around, I walked into the first shop I saw, which was about fifty meters from my house.

Yes, the saloon was clean and busy and that told me he was good! In I went.

Cloth around my neck and neatly tucked in and he stumped me with his first question, “which style Sir “

Now no one has ever asked me this question before. 

It is usually me enter shop, I am wished, I sit down, cloth goes around my neck and in a short while I am out. It’s a no brainer . 

“Which style Sir “was a new one and I said, “TRIM” rather nonchalantly and without looking at him.

He smiled as if to say, “OK you are not fussy” 

Fifteen minutes later I was done. He immediately produced one of those square mirrors to show me the back of my head. I could not care less.  He then asked me if I wanted a head massage to which I agreed. I still do not know why I said yes.

A list of about eight different oils, was rattled off by him. He was a fast talker. The only word I could decipher was COCONUT, so coconut it was.

The oil was poured generously and he massaged, kneaded, manipulated,   rubbed, pounded, banged, pulled, and pressed my scalp in all manners possible. Just when I was about to say THANK YOU, he produced a small machine from a draw. Strapping it on to his hand, he then began rubbing it all over my head – my forehead, my neck, my scalp, my ears and the top of my eyebrows. It jarred, hummed and frightened me. 

Not sure why, but he kept on and on as if he was intent on scooping out my brains and presenting them to me on a silver platter as a giveaway gift.

Then, without warning, and so much as a” MAY I”, he stopped the assault. I was alive. 

He smiled. I attempted a weak smile in reply.

He handed me a comb and with trembling hands, I combed my hair half expecting my brains to fall out at any minute  

I paid and I tipped him, thankful that all was well.  Before leaving, I gave one last look at myself in the mirror. My face looked chalky white and my pupils were dilated.

I reached home and my wife said “Oh my God, he has cut your hair is so short.

Give me a break – Please.

I looked in the mirror again – Yes I looked good !

The doll

 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.

Unadulterated insanity

 In oft-traversed, not-so-distant lands 

Power-hungry leaders roar their might, 

Unheeding of the world's condemning cries.

These ‘gentlemen’ care a hoot for human plight,

As thousands fall beneath unyielding skies.

Visibly ruthless forces, 

Stone-deaf to reasons' plea,

 Pursue their callous goals 

While innocents bleed.

Silent screams buried beneath the rubble

Of homes, hospitals, and schools

And deep anguish etched into the faces of the living.

Children's laughter, silenced by pain, 

Their futures shattered, lost to greed's gain.

Grim reapers- in uniform- marching with iron resolve.

Shadows of fallen comrades haunt the battlefield

The stench of decay and the cries of the wounded

Rent the fetid air

While lifeless eyes stare into the void of perpetuity.

Civilians - unwittingly caught in wars they did not make,

 Their lives - consumed in conflict's cruel fire,

 While pompous leaders- far from danger's line

 Partake in games of power, fanned by dark desire.

The world observes with bated breath.

Another World war in the offing? 

What does the future hold?

No one has a clue.

World leaders berate – some with veiled threats

Yet nothing more.

The truth obscured by the media's shifting veil, 

Economies eroded amidst these senseless wars,

While millions of fates are balanced on the scale.

Is this what the quatrains in "Les Prophéties,"

Predicted would happen? 

Or was the 16th-century seer

Attempting to read tea leaves in a hurricane? 

Can one or two decide the fate of a multitude,

 And plunge the world into never-ending strife?

When will this madness cease to intrude thus? 

Who stands in right or wrong?

 Who holds the key? 

The answers are lost in deceit, fears, and lies. 

This is pure, unadulterated, insanity

And it sickens me to the gills.

mg