The Lighter Side of Life

Have you read these books?

1. Run to the Outhouse - by Willie Makeit, Betty Wont, Andy Didnt
2. Flood in the Bathroom - by Won Lang Pee

3. Yellow River by - I.P. Freely

4. Jump off a Cliff by - Hugo First

5. Sliding down the banister by - R. Arse Tornaway

6. Beautiful Behinds - by Seamore Butts

7. Butt Fitness - by Hugh Jass

8. Love Secrets by - Amanda Hugnkiss

A landlord received a letter of complaint from one of the tenants:

1.The toilet is blocked and we cannot bathe the children until it is cleared.
2. I want some repairs done to my stove as it has backfired and burnt my knob off.

3. This is to let you know that there is a smell coming from the man next door.

4. The toilet seat is cracked: where do I stand?

5. I am writing on behalf of my sink, which is running away from the wall.

6. I request your permission to remove my drawers in the kitchen.

7. Our lavatory seat is broken in half and is now in three pieces.

8. The person next door has a large erection in his back garden, which is unsightly and dangerous.

9. Will you please send someone to mend our cracked sidewalk. Yesterday my wife tripped on it and is now pregnant.

10. Our kitchen floor is very damp, we have two children and would like a third, so will you please send someone to do something about it.

11. Will you please send a man to look at my water, it is a funny color and not fit to drink.

12. Would you please send a man to repair my downspout. I am an old age pensioner and need it straight away.

13. Could you please send someone to fix our bath tap. My wife got her toe stuck in it and it is very uncomfortable for us.

14. I want to complain about the farmer across the road. Every morning at 5:30 his cock wakes me up, and it is getting too much.

15. When the workmen were here they put their tools in my wife's new drawers and made a mess. Please send men with clean tools to finish the job and keep my wife happy.

Courtesy: The Internet

Home Again

It was on 16th January, 2008 when I again flew back to Dubai.


The Captain announced in English which I never had understood all those thirty two years of my sky travel. All I could understand was that he spoke something about the seat belt which I always keep fastened throughout my journeys. Small eyed cabin attendants of the fair sex did not amuse me. I lacked the usual enthusiasm of my gulf bound flights. After a break of about one year I was travelling to Dubai, again, to my disbelief. It was like home going, to the best home of my life. I had lost every hope of going back to the land of opportunities and to witness the colourful Arabian Nights all over again.

The Emirates airbus pierced through the white skies at an altitude of thirty thousand and odd feet. Small video player in front of my seat had a touch screen. I had no mind of watching movies or hearing songs. The passenger sitting on my right was coughing rhythmically which induced a dry cough in my throat. He was trying to gain more territory by pushing my right leg sideways with frequent shoving with his left thigh. Girls and boys walking along the aisle reminded me of my grandchildren at Bangalore. The usual painful stretching of my heart strings was not there, but instead a pleasant feeling of having spent playful days with them for the past few months, spread a coolness over my heart. The love and affection of my near and dear ones had cultivated green meadows through my mind, and the hangover of the same nullified the effect of the temporary separation.

The aroma of the impending dinner reached my stuffy nose. The screeching sound of the wheels of the food container pushed by the waitresses, otherwise known as the air hostesses, mingled with the noise of the jet engines. Some of the women of extreme beauty had their cheeks redder than their lips. They were donning pseudo smiles, sensual enough to captivate any first time flier and placing the food trays in front of the cramped up seats.

On request, a small bottle of red wine was given to me. I kept the glass on the food tray taking good care that it did not fall on to the advancing leg of my coughing neighbour. A sip or two of the red liquid, sweet and sour, induced a new vigour in me. The ice cold bun was cut into two and I applied butter, as hard as rock, on to the split surface. I drowned the bun down my throat with a gulp of wine. When I ate the hot rice with black meat pieces, my tongue was burnt. My right hand was brushing the hand of my neighbor every time I took the spoon to my mouth. As the red wine started to spread and mingle with my red blood, a certain amount of tranquility pervaded my body. The appetite rose to its azimuth and I started to hog the food with my eyes reducing in size. At times there was a burning sensation deep inside my stomach but soon it vanished by the onslaught of the meat and rice. The lights were dimmed. I closed my eyes and invited the queen of sleep to seduce me.

The noise of the downing of the landing gear woke me up. I had slept very soundly with all the sound around. The aircraft was jerking and losing its height. I knew we were about to land. Yet again, I was going to land at Dubai. I was excited.

I carried my briefcase and the small bag and walked fast towards the immigration counter, up and down the escalators. The familiar sights of the inside of the airport filled in me great awe for the place, Dubai, my own Dubai. I collected the original of the visit visa from one of the counters and was directed to go to the eye testing counters. Arrogant looking young boys were sitting at the counter with cameras. My eye was tested, free of cost, but without the test results.

There was an ocean of passengers at the umpteen immigration counters. Immigration officials were taking their own sweet time to dispose off the crowd. When I got out with my luggage, there was another ocean of humans thronging at the entrance to receive their friends and relatives.

When the car rolled over the cold asphalt roads, I looked in all directions. My home had changed, phenomenally. But I was home again.

The Return of the Monsoon

The day dawned, another day in my retired life. I opened the balcony door and looked outside. The nature was still sleepy. The sky was filled with moderately black clouds. I dressed up to move out for my usual morning walk.

Suddenly, it started to drizzle. Soon, it turned into a heavy downpour. I was thrilled. I stepped out to the balcony. The cool raindrops caressed my face. The tree branches swayed, the leaves dancing to the tune of the falling rain. Clouds were busy moving and some of them deposited themselves at the horizon. The sun hid behind the clouds feeling happy for an unexpected holiday the clouds brought along.

The melody of the rain, mixed with the noises of the surroundings, infused a new vigour in me. I looked at the moving clouds. While moving, the clouds drew some figures on the white canvas of the sky. A bald head emerged with raised hands. The downpour became heavier and I became again a child, the grandson of my grandfather.

The monsoon had returned.

Life starts at 67 and I love it……..

Its Impossible - Perry Como

My Playlist of Videos

Here is a Playlist of Videos which are my favourites.

And God Created Them........

The street lights were still burning as I reached the park and it was 9 O’ clock in the morning. Perhaps, the authorities were celebrating. The park was deserted. The usual health conscious buffs must have had their aerobics earlier. The sun was playing hide and seek with the clouds and at last it came out. The cool breeze was fanning the golden rays.

With my hands moving vigourously backwards and front wards, I walked to be friendlier with my heart, counting the number of rounds of walking I had completed. The watchman’s room on the northwest corner was very conspicuous with smoke emanating from inside. His wife was sitting at the entrance with her baby clung to her breasts, infusing life to her child from her dried up body. She had a sad and blank look, her tired looking eyes closing at times as if she were sleeping. Her son, half naked with torn knickers, was playing with a top. His sister around five years old, with big and beautiful brown eyes, looked straight into my eyes with a smile. She was wiping her nose with her bare hands.

I walked to the starting point and deposited myself on a concrete bench and started to do my post walk exercises with my feet, neck and hands. I must have looked very funny at my postures. Suddenly, I felt a twinge in my heart and a choke at my throat and my tear glands squeezed out a few drops of tears into my old but powerful eyes. I asked myself, “will the lights of Diwali burn in that tiny house, will it be a Happy Diwali for them?”

The little girl’s eyes and her smile will surely be haunting me tonight.