Now to what happened.

I wake up in the morning, actually it was more like an afternoon. But on a Saturday, my morning begins post noon. The guy who takes care of the house was in our balcony. This guy is also the laundry man of the colony, and he uses our terrace to dry his clothes sometimes. We are cool with that as long as there is someone to keep an eye on our place so that robbers and murderers stay away. And, the terrace is huge, so we don’t really have to look at someone else’s underwear hanging around. I don’t really know this guy’s name, so lets call him Appa.

Appa greets me can calls me sahib  (thats like ‘sir’ in hindi). I feel good. My morale is boosted. Alright!

Appa: You guys came pretty late last night. Wasn’t it around like 2 am?
Me: Yeah we did come late.
Appa: Had to work overtime I guess.
Me: Yeah, theres a lot of work. (If only he knew what bad people we were, he would stop hanging the clothes on our terrace).
Appa: I was ironing clothes late into the night. Even I have a lot of work nowadays.
Me: Yeah I noticed you. (Sh*t suddenly he makes me feel so bad).
Appa: You guys were awake even after that, I saw your balcony light on.
Me (F*ck, hope he did not see how we disposed the bodies): Ya, there was a dead cat here and two dead mice too. We were disposing the bodies.
Appa: What? Only one cat?
Me (Holy mother of the Phantom): What? There are more dead cats here???!!!
Appa: Yes.

Appa walks to a small cemented block in which our water meter takes shelter and points to it. And there lay another dead feline. It’s body under the meter, with one paw on top of the meter and another pointing towards the North Pole I guess. It had bled through the nose, all the blood dried by now. Disgusting sight. Well, not really that disgusting, but disgusting to some extent nevertheless. Appa puts his hand into the  water meter compartment, finds the tail of the cat and tugs on it. It does not budge a bit. Must have died last night and it’s body had become stiff. Appa gives another hard tug and manages to get the dead cat out. It’s body had taken a very weird indescribable  shape. He carries it to our gate, and in one smooth swing of the arm, he flings it in to the dumping area we used the previous night. Blood drops from the cats nostrils flew into the air and went splat on the cemented road outside.

The second dead cat was disposed. Let me stress on one point. The manner in which we disposed the bodies the previous night was much more respectful. Something just short of a 21 gun salute.

Appa: Ah, that was that.
Me: What happened? How come so many dead animals in our balcony suddenly? Is the house haunted? I bet it is! No wonder the landlord gave it to us for such a low price.
Appa: No sahib, no no! This house is not haunted. It is the best house in the colony.
Me: Then what happened here?
Appa: Well yesterday just before Vignesh sahib could come some cats were fighting. One male cat came and started fight. It must have killed the two cats. Lots of noise sahib. Even the ladies next door came to watch what was going on.
Me: They came to watch? Couldn’t they shoo the cats away?
Appa: What to do sahib? I am only a laundry man, if I tell them what to do, they will stop giving their clothes to me. The cats were fighting for quite a while. I think the male cat killed the other cats. The mother cat is still somewhere around.
Me: Hmm, that’s disgusting. Male cats tend to kill kittens which are not theirs, and are in their territory.

Appa leaves and then I start to put all the pieces together. Two dead cats, two dead mice. Mother cat alive. Male cat killed the cats. Cashew nuts. White liquid out of the first cats mouth. A paranoid Vignesh.

Okay, so here is what might have happened that gory night.
Mother cat and her two kid cats must have come across the two dead mice or must have caught and killed them. The mice must have been poisoned by our crazy neighbor, surely. Kid cats must’ve been enjoying the evening snack and spending some quality time with mother cat. Male cat arrives and realized that those two kid cats are not his. All hell breaks lose. Male cat starts a fight. Mother cat starts to defend the kid cats. One kid cat runs and hides under the water meter. Male cat grabs hold of the first kid cat’s neck. Mother who is not as big and strong as male cat is not able to defend her kid cat or do anything. Male cat’s jaw are too strong for the kid cat’s neck. Kid cat starts to choke. Male cat shifts his attention to the other kid cat. He grabs hold if its next and chokes it to death. The second kid cat dies under the water meter. Male cat for some reason decides to leave. The first kid cat chokes to death slowly. The poison from the mouse starts to take it’s effect too. Vignesh comes home to see the mess of a murder. Panics and calls me. I’m too engrossed with the glass of rum in front of me. I talk him into coming to Club 8 and drinking too, not knowing how bad the situation was. Vignesh, with his fetish for alcohol, caves in and comes to Club 8. Somewhere between then and 2 am, the first kid cat dies. Two mice and two cats are left dead.

Case solved.

And, here are photos of Dead Mouse #1, Dead Mouse #2 and Dead Cat #1. The photographs are blurred, but if you are one of those people who go eeeeeewwww for no reason at all, then you are warned.

My phone buzzes.

Vignesh: Dude, there’s a cat in our balcony and I think it’s dying. Where are you?
Me (in my head): F*ck you man. Kill it. Make the weight on Mother Earth less by a few kilos.
Me (in reality): I’m at Club 8 man.

Club 8
The place everyone loves to hate. Nothing fancy about this place, just that play some good metal numbers and it’s shady to some extent. The pros: They play stuff like RATM, Nirvana, etc. Bad @$$ pro: Very, very close to our house. The cons: No chicks. Real bad @$$ con: Some Telugu annas sometimes start to dance. Really freaky, but very amusing. Lets leave the cons aside, coz anyway we just go there to abuse and have drinks with some good people.

Vignesh: You there?
Me: Yeah man.
Vignesh: What should I do? It’s breathing hard man. I think it’s gonna die soon.

Now you’d be wondering, why the hell does Vignesh have to call me to save a dying cat? Well to add some context, I’ve been the proud master of a female cat named Tommy and I was expected to play Superman in this situation.

Me: Give it some water. Or, just give it a slight tap on the back man.
Vignesh: Tried that, nothings happening. Actually, I was moving the bike back, but it was wasn’t budging, and then I realized the cat was behind the tire. I think I must’ve hurt it.

(Aha!!! Murderer!!!!!!!!)

Me: No man, don’t worry, the cat would’ve ran away the moment you touched the bike.
Vignesh: But what to do? It’s gonna die any moment! There are some cashew nuts in the house. Should I give it cashew nuts?
Me: I don’t think it’s gonna eat cashew nuts, but yeah you can give it some.
Vignesh: I’ll do that. But I really think it’s gonna die. What should I do.
Me: Come to Club 8, lets drink. The cat will probably go after a while.
Vignesh: Ok, I’m on my way.

Three minutes later he is at Club 8 and the drinks are on. Cheers!
From Club 8 we landed up at a colleagues place, indulged in some anti-social activities and once we were done we decided to head home around 2 am.

Open the main gate and, f*ck! Dead cat. Sh*t, f*ck this cat, couldn’t it have utilized the other 8 lives that it had or gone somewhere else and died? Bl**dy dead cat. Son of a b*tch cat.

So I go in an turn on the balcony light, and voila! Two dead mice on either side of the dead feline.

The badly screwed up crime scene
The dead cat was in the middle of the of the balcony. Near it’s mouth lay some cashew nuts. Yeah, cats don’t like ‘em nuts imported from Goa I guess. It’s neck had some puncture marks, but there was this liquid that had flown out of it’s mouth. But hard to say weather it had choked or it was poisoned. On it’s right, just at the foot of the stairs that lead to the terrace, was a dead mouse.

Dead mouse #1 looked like it had been choked and had it’s neck broken. It’s body was intact and in one piece, but yet it looked disgusting.

Dead mouse #2 was on the other side of the cat. This was one badly mutilated body. All that was left of it was its head, the backbone and the rear end of it’s body torn in a manner such that it was inside-out with the legs and tail facing the back of the skull. Very disgusting, hard to explain.

Vignesh: How do we dispose this stuff?
Me: Hmm.. dunno man. I think I’m high, lets do it tonight itself, else tomorrow morning when I wake up I won’t be able to do nothing.
Vignesh: Maybe we should toss a coin and the loser cleans the mess.
Me: Yeah amazing plan! Nobel award winning material you are. F*ck your plan, I’m going and getting a stick or something and we shall fling it out.

The front side of House #48, Hanuman Nagar Colony, faces an open deserted area, dedicated to disposal of waste by all the people of the colony. It also serves as a dumping spot for carcasses, and tonight we were gonna put it to some good use!

I walk around bout can’t find a stick. Just then my eyes fall upon a… oh wait, the manner in which we disposed the bodies would be considered ‘inhumane’ by a lot of people. Keeping that in mind I shall not document it. Lets just say that the 3 carcasses made it’s way into the deserted area with respect and some skills that would make Tiger Wood smile with appreciation.

Me: Alright, cool work man, high five!
Vignesh: Yeah, thank God. Hope I don’t get any nightmare with cats tonight.
Me: Screw the cats man.
Vignesh: Why do you abuse so much?
Me: Screw you too.
Vignesh: Goodnight machaan.
Me: Yeah.

And with that, the Tamil boy and the Goan boy go to their respective room and sleep.

What had happened that led to the death of the cat and mice? Was it Vignesh who ran over the cat with the bike? Was Vignesh the murderer? Why was it mentioned that there were two dead cats, but only one accounted for? How did this all happen? Will the readers get to see photos of the crime scene? Is Shiney Ahuja really ‘Bhai’-sexual?

For these answers, stay tuned for the next blog post! :D

Update: The Murder Mystery Solved is now up.

The Goan Omelet Pao!

Now if you ever land to Goa, you would like to eat an omelet pao because (in order of preference)

1. It’s cheap.
2. It tastes amazing.
3. You get to meet friends.
4. Someone lands up sponsoring you omelet pao (high five!).
5. You get to check out chicks, as these omelet pao guys open shop at strategically placed junctions.

There are a variety of omelet paos that you could choose from, but I would suggest you go to the guy at the Mapusa taxi stand, not only because the stuff there tastes good, but also because that guy has employed human robots. More about them later.

Now for some omelet pao etiquette.

Rule #1: You do not, and I mean do not, eat omelet pao alone. You should always make sure you have company.

Me (on the phone): Hey, !@#$%^ lets go eat omelet pao.
Lesley (who stays like 3 kms away): Eh, wtf man, I’m watching TV. !@#$ off.
Me: !@#$ you man. Screw you. Just come. It’s on me.
Lesley: It’s the woman volleyball finals man.
Me: Screw them.
Lesley: I will.
Me: Are you coming or not?
Lesley: Parcel it and come to my place man.
Me: @!#$#(@$*#@$@#)%*&^&#(@$@#$ . !@#$ you man, I’ll eat alone. Lemme know who wins.

Srijay: Hello.
Me: !@#$%^ lets go eat omelet pao.
Srijay: !@#$ you man. I stay in Porvorim (which is like very far from where I or Lesley stays).
Me: Lesley is coming man. And we may go and play some Counter Strike too.
Srijay: Cool, I’m in. Where do we meet?
Me: Taxi stand, omelet pao.
Srijay: Okay.

Lesley: Hello.
Me: !@#$%^ I spoke to Srijay, he’s coming to Mapusa to play some Counter Striked. He said he wants to meet up and go beat some school boys in Dust 2 (a Counter Strike map).
Lesley: Where are we meeting?
Me: Taxi stand, omelet pao.
Lesley: Cool, will be there in 10 mins.

And, this is just one example on how you do not break Rule #1.

Rule #2: You always eat your omelet pao with the roas. Roas = Chicken curry.

You have the option of consuming your omelet pao without the roas, but if you are gonna do that, I suggest you’d might as well eat a newspaper. Besides, the newspaper would be 1/10 the price.

The essence of the omelet pao is lost if the curry is not allowed to create a thin slimey, juicy layer between the omelet and the pao. This being the primary tastemaker.

Thus, Rule #2 should not be broken, yet those who do so may be allowed to go unpunished.

Rule #3: Order some juice.

It should not come as a surprise that there always is a guy providing fresh juice right next to the omelet pao guy. This is the age old marketing technique that they do not teach you at MBA class. The juice guy provides the exact balance between hunger and thirst. Hunger being satisfied by the omelet, thirst being quenched by the juice. Now imagine eating a lovely omelet pao and then not having anything to drink. FAIL!

Rule #3 is not mandatory, but should be followed. So order some juice.

These are the 3 main rules that are to be adhered to when you venture out to eat your omelet pao.

Now back to the human robots. The means and speed of the delivery of you omelet pao is directly proportional to the experience of the human robots at the omelet pao stall. Older the human robot faster you get your omelet pao. Lets refer to these human robots as hubots. Hubots are of a special breed. They do not have something known as hand-eye coordination. Their eyes and hands function separately. They also use their mouths a lot primarily to pass on information from one hubot to another. They produce anywhere between 6 to 12 ready-to-consume omelet paos in a minute.

The way you acquire your omelet pao is as follows. You shout for your order. One hubot picks up the information and registers it. And signals that he has heard you and your order is on its way. What you do not notice and realize is that the rest of the hubots have also registered the same information and are already preparing your omelet pao.

The hubot precision of omelet pao preperation is unmatched. One hubot breaks a couple of eggs which land onto a massive frying pan. In seconds another hubot has had them fried. A third hubot busily cutting loaves of bread in the middle, suddenly puts his arm out with the pao, only to grab hold of an airborne omelet which slip right into the pao. This omelet pao then moves into the hand of another hubot who adds the roas and next thing you know your omelet pao is wrapped into a tissue and is handed to you by one of those mobile hubot.

The mobile hubots are the ones who make sure you enjoy your meal without having to go to the counter to place your order or have to watch the other hubots at work. The mobile hubot also get you juice from the jucie guy if required.

Next thing you do is bite into you omelet pao. Aah! Life is bliss! The Goan Omelet Pao!!!

Now you may be wondering what happened to Lesley, Srijay and me. Srijay who stays in Porvorim which is like 10 kms from Mapusa has to take one of the local buses, get down at the Mapusa bus stand and walk to the taxi stand which is right opposite the bus stand. I stay in Parra, so jump onto the so call ‘Beast of the Road’ aka the Honda Activa and ride 3 kms to the Mapusa taxi stand. Lesley, the lazy b*stard stays in Mapusa, 3 minutes away from the taxi stand. As protocol always an important part, Srijay reached first by default, I reach a few seconds after he arrives and Lesley, that moron never turns up on time.

Srijay: Where’s Lesley?
Me: Dunno man, he should be here anytime. (One mobile hubot catches my signal for two omlet paos).
Srijay (on pohone): Where the !@#$ are you man?
Lesley: Ah, I’ll leave now.
Me: He just left right? (Sirjay nods, our omelet paos are in our hands by now).

Lesley decides to show up after 3 minutes. On an average 30 omelet paos must have been produced by now.

Lesley (to Srijay): !@#$%^ what do you wanna game suddenly?
Srijay: Me? You are the one who came up with the idea.
Lesley: B*lls.
Me: Hey looks, hot chick man. Looks known, must be our junior.
Srijay: !@#$ you man, you are paying for our omelet paos.

Amen. Goan Omelet Paos!!!

And that’s us, back in the day. Good ‘ol nice kids and Mama’s boy. Anyway, getting back to the topic of discussion here, that would be ME.. Here goes. This was published on March 22, 2007. The content also contains the comments picked from her blog.

This is what he has to say about himself:
I have two imaginary daughters aged 3 and 4… Both are good looking… I don’t have sons as I’ve decided the ugly male species of my family has to be done away with in this generation!!!

We shall also consider that I own a Magnum Sniper Rifle and I use it on all the people I hate… in other words I’m running out of bullets.

Also, though it may sound hypothetical, the sign on the main gate of our house reads: “BEWARE OF CAT!!!”

See I know he begged & begged till I wrote a testimonial for him but for those who never read the sincere words I typed down, I took the time to log into orkut and copy paste the heart-wrenching words I was rather forced to write.

I don’t know how many of u all know him as well as me but…
When I tell u this BELIEVE me…

This man can go without a bath for days!
(the record – 7 days… the reason – saving water!!!)

He loves Tommy Leanne D’souza (who u ask?)
well that’s d family feline! (Though he doesn’t show it … I tell u he absolutely adores her!)

Anyway tats enuf for now!
But on the whole this specimen of the human race is totally harmless & genuine to the core… what u c – is what u get!

So you see why the BEST BROTHER AWARD has to go to Lovell! Aka. Peekacho… MM… Baby Lov… Baby… wotever I feel right to call him. No arguments here! He is my brother!

Ok the rest of you normal people may be wondering… Couldn’t she write something nice about her brother? Well people this is nice. I could perhaps jot down all the clichéd stuff of how my nice a brother he is… loving, caring, woteva!
But that’s not how it is with us!
As much as I love my brother, we cut the senti stuff… its like you guard my back & I will yours.

Enough has been said already. So one last thing, as the recipient of the BEST BROTHER AWARD here’s a bonus title too… THE BEST CRITIC!

The only reason I got to where I am is because of Lov and his mean remarks on my art or anything I do! (for which I am so grateful)

Ok brother enough said about you. (you asked for this too ;)
Now expecting an acceptance or gratitude speech from you in return.

P.S. for all of you who din’t know he is the ONLY brother I have.

The old table. The old hall. The massive windows. The damp roof tiles. The generations of relatives sealed in frames, hanging from the walls looking down upon me and thinking “Shame on him. Didn’t make the family name proud.” Hey wait a min, I did. May be they took that back.

Meet Tommy [the female family feline]. Some say she’s 25+ years old. I’ll keep her at 23, coz from photographic evidence she existed when my sis was a kid, before I was born. I stick my foot out for the usual feline meets master greeting. She rubs her head against my foot. I’m still king of the pride. Tommy acknowledges that. Until my sis drops by and steals me off my throne. How can that kitty leave me and run to my sis!!! Duh!! Whatever pussy cat. Big deal!!

The black t-shirts have turned into makeshift doormats. I’m wondering how could my mom degrade the metal collection!! Aahh.. but I guess thats ok. Even the great Slayer t-shirt was not spared. That one has been torn into bits. The Nirvana collection has survived the onslaught. They lie folded in the cupboard.

The metal cassette collection has survived. The pirated CD’s survived too. The rains kick in. I listen to Alice In Chains for a change. Grunge kicks in. Finding a signal for Airtel in the house is a challenge in itself. The signal boosting ironing board does not help anymore. Last resort is defined by leaving the phone at the window risking it getting robbed.

I walk out. I see fields. I smell fresh air. I see birds. Coconut trees transform the simple village road into an aisle. Feels like a red carpet has been laid out for me. Well all over the place tell me I never have to worry bout taps running dry. Home it is. It’s not necessarily the beaches that everyone thinks about when you mention Goa.

I head out to the Baga creek. I spot the Cross where Ryan [Babushin] and I used to hang out discussing crap. I recognize the spot where Donn, Russell [Yoyo] and I used to come fishing and manage only to catch crabs. The total number of crabs caught till date tallies to 1. I pass by the ground where our U-19 team used to train. The same ground where I learned to dive and catch a football in mid air. The same ground where I once left a lousy goal and our team lost.

I meet my good old friend Srijay aka Byclops aka Peekachooooo. We head of to Lan Lords. We thought the place was shut down. We find it open. Once owned by the fearsome Homo Sapien Maleous clan, now left to rot with some school boys. The gaming place is dying a slow death. Never-the-less we frag against some bots. Get ripped initially. We rip them back after a while. Srij still got the superfast killer reflexes. I still kick bot with moi mag. The clan needs a reunion.

Srij and I drop by Vrundavan. The evening restaurant where a lot of things were always discussed. Most visited by Lesley and me. Often accompanied by Evelyn, Srijay, Suneet and Prashanti. We attack the regular. Chillies, bhel, shev puri, tea and coffee are consumed. We call Les just to let him know we are re-living the moment and he is missing out on a lot of stuff, only to get a barrage of abuses in return. Good ‘ol days. Les, the abuser. Abuses everyone and everything.

We head back home. I’m home…

December 5th 2003, a quiet evening, stars in the sky, Christmas carols echoing throughout the neighborhood. Not always does the day come when metal fans get what they want, when dopers get what they need, when starved unnourished souls get vitamins and syrups, and when people get sacrificed. A weird atmosphere engulfed the surroundings of BTF – 6, Chandranath Apartments, Mapusa.

Not many people were there. Just a few, a few who mattered were present. Just around six people excluding the host. Three rockers and three dopers, of which all were hungry – some for food, others for blood. There was no special Birthday Cake, the only thing that did get cut was the birthday boy, and man he did bleed hard. Blood splattered all around the house, the victim quietly bearing the immense pain. A timely introduction of a waterproof band aid was the savior of the moment.

Initially Sepultura set the ambiance with ‘Roots’. Old friends did some catch up. The script of a movie was reviewed. Then came the dose of Pantera. Rockers head banged and tried to break necks. Though no necks broke, the attempt was worth it. The not so divine intervention of food saved the rockers. Seven people consumed a meal cooked for twenty. With all due respect to the mom who made it possible (Daniel’s mom of course). Those poor chickens who sacrificed their lives for the auspicious day should be now somewhere near the pearly gates of heaven along with the other billions and St. Peter.

Dessert was gobbled down in a matter of seconds. Seven spoons in one single gigantic bowl. The Alphonso mango ice-cream was consumed like a carcass feasted upon by hungry vultures. Then came the period in which all the minds were cooled off and some freaks started to make music videos. A web-cam, a Pentium III, some 256MB RAM made possible some really weird and rather depressing but energetic music videos. Sorry to say that only a limited few will have access to these videos.

What happened next was out of the blues. Four people left. They had had enough. But they went smiling. Left back were three old pals. A rocker, a freak and another rocker. They discussed topics which are too sensitive to be written and tortured and murdered a few mosquitoes. Before long the freak left and one rocker washed dishes, while the other just listen to his shit and offered some shit of his own. The washing of the dishes got over, but the talking went on till around 3:45 am and by 4 am, the two rockers lay dead.