The Beefeater

I know a beefeater. The only thing is he does not know that he is one himself. What is a beefeater you ask? Just what the name means. One who eats beef! No, let me put it in better terms... one who craves beef.. who dreams of beef.. who eats beef in his sleep.

You wonder how can someone like that not know that he is, indeed, a beefeater? I cannot blame his ignorance. I am told by reliable sources that he grew up eating 3-4 kilos of beef a week. No wonder the bovine headcount in Nigeria underwent a drastic reduction back in those days. I believe I saw a report saying they are off the endangered list now. Wheew!!

The beefeater is hilarious. Every Monday morning with great resolve he declares, "You know what? I am going to be a vegetarian. You go ahead and be anti-animals, you go ahead and butcher the poor chickens and fish. I will only eat that which has no blood flowing through its veins."

To which I reply, "Since when did cattle become bloodless?"

"Haaa!! You who knows so little about me. When I make a resolution, it is one that I will hold on to. I will stick to fruits and vegetables and get younger by the day. You eat your chicken and fish and grow wrinkles, develop cholesterol, blood pressure, diabetes, what not."

The conviction in his voice, in his expression, in his eyes... it is of the same level as the faith that you need to move mountains.

I roll my eyes in reply.

Along comes the inevitable Friday. As we sit down to supper, he eyes the food and exclaims in dismay, " 'Tis a Friday today!"

We glance up and acquiesce. "Indeed, it is."

"Friday is Special Dinner Day. Where is the beef?"

"We thought you were vegetarian?"

"Haa! What nonsense. On a Friday! Why are you starving me? Where is the beef?"

"Okay, okay... calm down... we'll do beef tomorrow."

"Harrumph! Like I have always said... if there has to be food on the table, I have to make it. I spend all day in the office slaving away and come home having to cook as well. This world I tell you......."

We roll our eyes.

As he meanders out of bed on Monday, he says, "You know... for me non-vegetarian is not essential. It is like having dessert after dinner. Very optional. This week, I have decided no more beef, chicken, fish, the likes of it. I am a vegetarian."

Today however, yet another Friday, I thought things were truly changing. This morning, before going to work, he asks, "What's for dinner today?"

I point to the chicken left in the sink to defrost and say, "We thought we'd grill some chicken tonight and have it with salad and rolls. Tis a Friday after all."

"Nooo no no noo... no chicken."

"Eh?"

"We had Chinese takeout yesterday night remember? We've already had enough chicken and meat for the week. I'm keeping the chicken back in the freezer."

"Okay... we dont mind. So we'll just have rice, some curry, and a vegetable side dish?"

"Yes. Let's eat healthy. All this chicken isn't good."

"Sounds good." I am slightly in awe, as this has never to date happened on a Friday.

I step out of the kitchen to get some other stuff done. On coming back, I notice that there is now a tray of frozen beef in the sink waiting to defrost. I burst out laughing.

"What? What's so funny?" The beefeater runs into the kitchen.

Still laughing, I point to the sink. "Never knew your definition of healthy was to replace chicken with beef."

"Ahem.. yes... well... I don't need beef you know. But I thought it was mean of me to impose vegetarian food on you all. So I took the beef out for you guys."

Still guffawing, I gasp out, "Yes.. yes... you are such a sweet little thing aren't you, thinking of us so much?"

"Harrumph! Don't believe me!" growls the beefeater.

I guess some things were designed to never change.

The Man in the Spaceship

"Who are you?", she asked, her brow creased in sudden thought.

"I think you know," he murmured with a slight smile.

She gasped. Suddenly it dawned on her. "The man in the spaceship!!!"

He smiled at her and ever so slightly nodded his head.

"But where have you been? Where did you disappear to? I haven't seen you in the last few months! You just flew away and left me alone."

"I've been here. Waiting. For you." He paused. "Come, let's walk." They walked in silence, he with a thoughtful look of anticipation and she with her thoughts confused by the sudden appearance. After a while she stopped short as she gazed at the spaceship in front of her. He smiled. "Welcome home! What do you think of her?"

The breeze stirred, lifting her hair off her shoulders lightly. The sun shone brightly; time seemed to stand still. She stood trying to absorb it all in. "Interesting," she faltered.

He frowned. "Interesting? That's all you have to say!?"

"Well you must admit, it is ummm... quite different from what I'm used to. Unusual. At least from the outside."

"Hmmm...."

"Hey... I'm not saying I don't like it. It's a spaceship. They don't come by me very often you know. Now, stop being so prickly and show me the inside."

"Prickly? ME?! I am never prickly."

"Yes, yes. I know. You are serene, calm, peaceful, content, organ..."

"Don't forget handsome, charming, smart, and confident," he smiled mischeviously.

She laughed, suddenly carefree. "And yet.. and yet... I remember a time when you were not."

"What do you mean?"

"Let me think... how did it go... Do you recall the time after a long monologue that no one remembers when someone suddenly stopped and said 'Ok. Now where are ....'"

"Why? Why must you always bring that up?"

As she watched carefully, she could see the expected embarassment flush his face. She smiled. "Because it was one of those times where it was apparent that you do not have everything planned out. Because it was a moment when your confidence dropped and you were one of us. Because it was terribly endearing. Because it is one of my best memories so far."

He smiled. "Okay okay... what other good memories do you have?"

She thought. Then with a gleam in her eyes, "The one where you thought my father was an axe murderer."

He spluttered. "I NEVER..."

"Relax. I exaggerate. But you know what I mean... the one where your subconscious did the talking."

"Alright alright... I give up." He held out his hand to her. "Well. Shall we go in?" He smiled hesitantly at her, a little unsure of her response.

She turned to face the spaceship. Closed her eyes. Took a deep breath and placed her hand in his. Turned to him and flashed a wide smile, "I'm ready. Show me the inside."

For she was. Ready. She was home. She followed her man in the spaceship.

In Transit

She looks out the balcony. The children playing below on their bicycles and makeshift badminton courts. The neighborhood stray dogs that dont even so much as twitch their tails when the kids cross their territory while they play. The elderly out for their evening walk smiling and chatting with people they come across. There is peace, there is contentment on everyone's faces. There is a sense of belonging on their faces.

She sighs... and wonders... why does it look so easy? When she knows how elusive it is, this sense of belonging. It is not that she has ever longed for it; it is just something that she does not understand. The almost nomadic life she has led (in her mind) is one that she has been content with. Move from place to place. Watch as the people she once thought she knew move far away. Or else change before her eyes into complete strangers. "Learn to trust no one" is what life has taught her - a lesson that has ensured her happiness.

This time however, in her nomad's journey, she is not as sure. The usual interest and excitement she feels; trepidation however also seems to have entered the scene quietly. For this time it is different. There is more at stake this time. Perhaps her usual blase attitude to life may not stand her in good stead this time around. She looks out the balcony... and sees herself. She is precariously balanced on the edge of the cliff facing the steep drop... the only way to traverse is forward... the question remains... will it be one of flight or one of hurtling descent? Only time will tell.

Only time will tell.

Yesterday...

Today I did something I rarely ever indulge in.... I spent some time thinking about yesterday.... childhood especially.... and why I am who I am. Then I caught myself thinking... "Huh? How did that happen?"

Coz usually... I am more of the...

Yesterday, there was so many things
I was never told
Now that I'm startin' to learn
I feel I'm growing old

'Cause yesterday's got nothin' for me
Old pictures that I'll always see
Time just fades the pages
In my book of memories
Prayers in my pocket
And no hand in destiny
I'll keep on movin' along
With no time to plant my feet

Yesterday, there was so many things
I was never shown
Suddenly this time I found
I'm on the streets and I'm all alone

Yesterday's got nothin' for me
Old pictures that I'll always see
I ain't got time to reminisce old novelties


GNR by the way.....

The Insensitive Breed…

I’m sure Eve in the Garden of Eden had one complaint… of Adam being totally un-attuned to what she was really saying. She probably thought he was uncaring and cold-hearted. Little did she know that there was a manufacturing defect in Adam’s makeup. The inability to see beyond the obvious. I can just imagine a conversation between Adam and Eve after they’d fallen from grace.

Eve: Gee honey, do you think God will be mad at us?
(Of course she knew God would be mad. She was of course, as all us women know, asking only for the sake of hearing some reassuring words.)
Adam: Of course he’ll be mad. What are you, a child? Whatever will I tell God when he holds me accountable?
Eve: Oh honey, it’ll be all right. God loves us so. You know that. He’ll forgive us.
(This is the woman trying to be supportive)
Adam: Woman! Shush! Let me think.
Eve: If you want, why don’t you tell God that I’m the cause of this all?
(Now this is where we get into dangerous territory. She is already feeling terrible because Adam has oh-so-cold-heartedly ignored her emotional hints. Now she is offering him the piece de resistance – the final test… let’s see what he does)
Adam: Hmmm…

God comes along during his afternoon stroll, looking forward to spending time with his loved ones. (Disclaimer: The following conversation is paraphrased. Please do not hold me accountable for blasphemy.)

God: Adam! Eve! Where are you?
Adam: Lord, we’re hiding from you as we know we’re naked and we’re ashamed.
God: (displeased) How do you know you’re naked? Who told you? Have you disobeyed me and eaten from the forbidden tree? Have you?
Adam: Lord! It was her! It was she! She gave me the fruit and told me to eat it. I ate it. It was her!

Ladies, I’m sure you can all hear Eve’s gasp of disbelief. I’m sure it is a gasp that will resonate throughout the generations until the day women no longer walk on this planet. Here she was, out of love, out of hurt, out of anger, out of sarcasm (yes my dear men, all of them combined) offering to go out on a limb for her man and what does he do? He actually accepts. He actually accepts. He takes her words for their face value. Inconceivable!!

Even worse, if you notice, God had not at this time asked, “Why did you eat of it?” He only said, “Have you?” A question to which Adam could have meekly replied “Yes Lord, we did. We're terribly sorry we disobeyed you.” He could have answered in the collective noun. (What happened to “through good times and bad” and the promise to cherish and protect her? Here comes a moment of danger, and what does Adam do? Throw his wife out in the line of fire and hide behind her skirts!!!)

But the main contention I have is, he failed to actually understand Eve. He failed to understand that what she was truly saying was not what she said with her words.

And this is true even today. I have seen my mother pointedly say things to my father, which I can so totally understand. They however seem to bypass my father altogether. He will smile through it all and think she means exactly what she says and no more. Sometimes he will even think she is complimenting him! I often wonder… this has been going on for 35 odd years. When will she learn that it’s of no use?

As the years pass by, the answer dawns on me… Never! For with every passing day, I realize that I am the same. I realize that if you want a man to understand what you’re really saying; say it in the most simple, most plain, rudest way possible. Only then will they get it into their thick skulls. In spite of knowing this, I continue to say things as any woman would. Dumb! It is, I suppose, our manufacturing defect in turn.

After all, if Adam could not understand Eve, how can we expect any man to understand any woman? And yet we do! That is the irony of it all. Woman continues to hint at things with the eternal hope that Man will someday have the EQ to understand the underlying implications. Man continues to live in ignorant bliss of this hope. And so it goes on from one generation to the next.

I suppose Man lives in want of EQ. Woman lives in want of IQ!

The Tragedy of Humanity

CNN's headlines today is about a school shooting. Another one. Yet again.

Skip the story... let's see if there's anything more interesting. Aaah.. the Hillary and Obama catfight.

I am aghast to realize that this is exactly my reaction to the incident. What have I become when I can not even so much as blink an eyelid at such an event? But I guess I am not alone in this. School shootings in the US of A seem to be more the norm than the exception. A twist may spark some more interest in the public. For example, there was a story about how there was a school shooting closer to home, somewhere in North India. I read that article with interest wondering if this was the effect of globalization or of the "East meeting the West" or of India trying to ape the West. (I am not cynical of such a phenomenon by the way - just that if we consider ourselves intelligent, you'd think we could filter out what needs to be absorbed and what does not.) Anyways, I digress. Getting back to the CNN story....I think to myself, "What will I read if I click on the link?"

* The name of the university & its stats

* Number of people killed, number of people injured - how many were students, how many were staff

* Findings on how dissatisfied the killer was in life and how prior signals/warnings he had given out before were completely missed or ignored

* Apologies & disbelief from the killer's family

* Tears and disbelief from victims and their families

* Support centers being established for trauma victims

* Candle lighting sessions in the university, prayers held, moments of silence observed, funeral services

* Explanations of how the system failed the killer and how the killer was more a victim than the criminal he is purported to be

* Eye-witnesses, victims, and acquaintances/friends (if anyone dares to admit being friends with such a person) describing the ordeal and the maniac look in his eyes and how they always knew something was wrong with him

* Flashbacks of earlier such incidents

I think I know the whole drill. Let me click the link and check if I've missed anything. Yup! If anything, they missed some of MY points. No doubt, they will cover it all in the hours and days to come.

I am not insensitive. I am truly sorry for those who are in the midst of it all. It is more a case of having become numb to such incidents. The first few times it shocks you. The next few times it saddens you. After that, it becomes a common event. One which makes you wonder, why don't the papers talk about measures people can take to help ensure such things do not happen again? If that's possible at all - maybe some tips on what to watch out for in people that strike you as loners or people carrying a lot of hatred and repressed anger in themselves, or just people who strike you as being odd. But then maybe that would lead to wide-spread panic, where you will end up looking at the old lady trying to cross a busy street and wonder if she'll get irritated with the traffic enough to blow up the explosives she's hiding under her jacket. Yeah, I guess that's why they just stick to reporting the facts as they unfold.

As I said, I do not think I am alone in this reaction. And that is a scary thought. For it means humanity is dead - or at least becoming an endangered species.

The Handyman

Tonight, I, the Handyman, am wide awake. Wide awake and hungry. It has been a long time since this hunger has been aroused. A long time that I have been dormant and fast asleep. As I sit on my bed and look at my faulty laptop with lusty eyes, torn between the desire to satisfy my appetite and the common sense that preaches experience, my thoughts are whisked back to the days of long ago when the Handyman was in his prime....

I was named the Handyman when I was naught but a kid. Who named me that? Me, myself, and I. It was at an early age that I realized I had great potential - a child prodigy you could say. Of no matter was it that the rest of the family had another name for me... The Destroyer.

Nothing could deter me from my desire to join the ranks of the Greater Established Handymen. Well no... obviously that is not true... for if so, I would not have been asleep for so long. I fell asleep due to a powerful tool employed by others - one that parades itself by the name Brainwasher. Beware of him, my friends. For now, I find that I doubt my abilities, a thought that would, in my childhood, have been condemned as ludicrous. But Time has a few aces up his sleeve... one of self-doubt as I mentioned.. and the other of forgetfulness.

Two incidents however remain crystal clear in this old head of mine. One was the tale of a kitchen weighing scale... the kind you use to measure out ingredients. I always thought such devices were figments of jobless souls' imagination... but there you have it... we had one very seldom used scale. This one, one day failed to work. The Handyman clapped his hands in glee and set about examining the faulty device. A short while later, he had detected the problem. The scale was jammed - it just needed to be set free by applying a sudden force to it. The kitchen scale has a peculiar characteristic - it is meant to weigh only small amounts - a kilo or two at the most. The Handyman's very young mind could not have been expected to comprehend that. And so came about the Handyman's only flaw in the whole exercise. He placed the kitchen scale on the kitchen floor and jumped on it. With a loud bang, the instrument fell apart. In the same instant, the Handyman fearing repercussion, was no longer to be found. To no avail however!

The lady of the house on hearing the KABOOM came running, took one look at the mess & started screaming, "Where is she? Where is the Destroyer?" It always amazed me how she always knew it was me. I was convinced that she had an uncanny ability. She always, however, claimed that she was not blessed with any sixth sense; it was just the naked truth staring her in the face. I believe I conceded to agree to disagree with her on that score.

The other time was when I noticed that a deep mahogany colored table in my parents bedroom (one that I always thought was a beautiful work of art) had a small slab of wood breaking free at the top surface. Being none other than the Handyman, I could not let it slip by me. After not having found any appropriate glue, I found something even more conforming to the image of the Handyman: a hammer and nails. Within minutes I had hammered in three nails into the top surface of the table. It solved the problem; admittedly however, it could have been more aesthetically accomplished. Wanting it to, of course, remain a surprise, I covered the area with my dad's diaries and notes. One day later, sure enough, came the bloodcurdling cry, "Just wait till I get my hands on her! Destroyer, get yourself in here, RIGHT NOW!"

So it was that the Handyman came to have stood infront of the fury of both parents wearing a sulky frown. What they did not realize was that all the berating and lecturing that particular day was of no use to him. For all that went through the Handyman's mind was, "Just you wait until I prove myself. No longer will you call me by that silly, weak, girly name... the Destroyer. Baah! One day you will know... for I am the Handyman."

Unfortunately, that day still has not arrived. As I eye my laptop with increasing interest, I ask myself... "Is this the day? Has it finally arrived? Is this the moment when others realize the fundamental truth a small child realized years and years ago? I AM the Handyman!!"