Welcome to the Friday Loose Bloggers Consortium where Akanksha, Anu, Ashok, Conrad, Delirious, gaelikaa, Grannymar, Magpie11, Nema, Noor,Ordinary Joe, Paul,Maria the Silver Fox, Padmum , Rohit, Will knott, and I write on the same topic. Please do visit the linked blogs to get seventeen different flavours of the same topic. Today’s topic has been chosen by Grannymar.

IMHO d gr8st invention of man is 🙂 and

Translated that will read, In My Humble Opinion the greatest invention of man is the insertion of a colon dash and close bracket sign (In this WP program that automatically translates it to a grinning face!) and the smiley graphic.

I can write anything I want and convey that I am just joking, or that I am not serious, or just being funny, by inserting either of those two signs. Neat, very neat. One does not have to go to convoluted linguistic gymnastics to convey humour as the intent in written communication. Now, the ubiquitous cell phone has smileys as part of the text that you can insert in a text message to make it even easier.

I wish that I had had these when I wrote all those love letters in my youth. I could have written more effectively in quantity in the same aerogram envelope or post card, and used less flowery language. And now that I have these in my life, I don’t have anyone to write love letters to 🙂

Laugh And The World Laughs With You.

“Always laugh when you can. It is cheap medicine.” ~Lord Byron

I was at the local bank where there is an alcove with two desks, one each for Privileged Customers and Senior Citizens. I suppose that I qualify for both as whenever I enter that alcove, either desk’s occupant immediately extends service to me.

Today, I was fortunate to be served at the Privileged desk. While the
executive had gone somewhere to get a photocopy of a document for me, a
lady, may be around 40 came in and sat at the other desk. I smiled at her,
and told her that she was at the wrong place. She got quite annoyed and
said, this is the XXXXBank. I simply pointed out the board hanging over her
head that said “Senior Citizens” and said that she looked like Sub Junior to
me. She shot out of the chair and came alarmingly close to me and said, “In
that case, I shall sit on your lap!” By the time both the executives had
also returned and there was laughter all around, and this is the funnier part, people outside the alcove not even knowing the background had grinning faces as I came out.

Were they all laughing with me or at me? Does it make a difference?

Eternal Triangle – II

A lovely young lady who I consider my adopted daughter and who I hope to give away in marriage soon, has sent this bouquet to be posted as a follow up one to my post “You Choose The Title”

U, ME and …..

“Never tell a loved one of an infidelity: you would be badly rewarded for your troubles. One dislikes being deceived, but one likes even less to be undeceived….”

This picture brings to mind some anecdotes heard from time to time.

An elderly couple is sharing an intimate dinner in honor of their 75th wedding anniversary.
The man says softly, “Dear, there is something I must ask you.
It has always bothered me that our sixth child never quite looked like the rest of our children.
Now, let me assure you these 75 years have been the most wonderful I could have hoped for, and your answer will not take all that away.
But, please tell me: did he have a different father?”
His wife lowers her eyes, pauses for a moment, and then confesses, “Yes. Yes, he did.”
The old man tightens, very shaken, the reality hitting him hard.
“Who? Who was he? Who was the father?”
Again, the woman lowers her head, trying to muster the courage to finally tell her husband the truth.
She says, “You.”

See what I mean? Here’s another.

Three friends are in a car driving to the ballgame when a big truck runs them over, killing them instantly. They find themselves at the Pearly Gates being interviewed by St. Peter.

“OK, you,” he says, pointing to Vito, “How many times did you cheat on your wife? And don’t lie, I’m St. Peter you know.”
Vito hangs his head and replies, “Honestly Pete, I was with two maybe three different women a week.”
St. Peter says, “OK, your car in heaven is that used Geo Metro over there, goodbye.”
He looks at Eddie and asks, “How many times did you cheat on your wife?”
Eddie replies, “I must admit that in 15 years of marriage I did cheat on my wife 3 times.” St. Peter says, “OK, your car in heaven is that LeBaron, goodbye.”
He then looks at Jacob and asks, “And you, how many times did you cheat on your wife?”
Jacob lifts his head high and replies, “I am proud to say that over 20 years of marriage, I never cheated on my wife! In fact, my beloved has been dead for 2 years now and I remained celibate the whole time!”
St. Peter replies, “Very impressive. Your car in heaven is that Ferrari convertible. Goodbye!”
A couple of hours later, Vito and Eddie are waiting for Jacob at the park where all three had planned to meet. Jacob arrives a couple of minutes late in his Ferrari, and his friends notice that he is sobbing like a baby. Vito asks, “Hey! Whats the matter with you? We should be crying! We’re stuck with these ugly buckets and you got a new Ferrari!”
Jacob, between sobs replies, “I just saw my wife on a skateboard!”

And lest I offend my very good friends of the feminine gender with all this woman bashing, let me redeem myself with this last one for us MEN!!

5 Rules For Men:
1 It’s important to have a woman, who helps at home, who cooks from time to time, cleans up and has a job.
2. It’s important to have a woman, who can make you laugh and feel good.
3. It’s important to have a woman, whom you can trust and who doesn’t lie to you.
4. It’s important to have a woman, who is good in bed and who likes to be with you.
5. It’s very, very important that these four women never meet.

Thank you dear S.

Chance Meeting And Memories.

I had gone to our local supermarket to get some vegetables and fruit on Tuesday. As I was entering the main door, a portly gentleman was exiting and I waited for him to, as he was carrying many bags in both hands. He duly nodded and said a mumbled thanks to me and went on his way.

As I finished my shopping and was leaving, I found the same gentleman waiting outside the door and nodded to him. He asked me if I was Mr. Rajgopaul from Delhi. I replied that I was indeed Rajgopaul but currently residing in Pune. He then asked me if I remembered meeting him at Delhi. I tried to place his face but just could not. I had been stationed in Delhi between 1980 and 1983. My recollection of that period is overwhelmingly one of the constant pain that I lived with till 1985, when I had my first hip replacement.

Now for the story.

I was waiting for a flight out of Delhi and had just come out of the gents’ room when I heard someone calling for Ramesh. I just kept going to find a seat when someone joyfully calling me Ramesh and asking if I was deaf slapped me on my back. I turned around
to find this joyous face hoping to have a chat with his friend whose expression quickly turned to disappointment on seeing me instead of Ramesh. He apologised profusely for the mistaken identity. He said that I resembled his friend from college days Ramesh quite a bit. Not being one to miss an opportunity, I quipped that my father is quite a colourful personality. He looked puzzled for a moment, but got the joke and guffawed quite loudly. He accompanied me to the sitting lounge and sat next to me and told me how much he enjoyed the joke.

I took out the morning’s newspaper to do the day’s crossword puzzle, when he excused himself and asked me if he could say something personal. I confirmed that he could and he very hesitatingly pointed out that I was wearing my singlet, which was peeping out of my open neck shirt, wrong side out. I informed him that I did that deliberately to keep the seam side out to reduce the friction. He just said “Oh, I see.” and turned away. After a few moments, he got up, requested me to keep an eye on his brief case while he visited the gents’ room and disappeared. He reappeared after a few minutes with a huge big grin on his face with the top button of his shirt open and told me that he too had gone and done the same thing with his singlet, and thanked me for the tip.

He then introduced himself. I don’t remember if we exchanged visiting cards, but the chances are that we did or at least I would have given mine to him. He recognized me after all these years from my walking stick, limp and my beard and was happy to confirm that I was the same fellow who taught him that trick. He said that he still wears his singlet the wrong side out. I said that I don’t anymore, as I had changed over to ribbed singlets instead of the old style interlock knits. He asked me to show what the difference was. I unfastened the top button of my kurtha and showed him. He told me that once again he has learned something new from me and he too would change over and took down the name of the brand that I wear. He also recollected the story of my father being colourful and how many times he had told this to his friends. I told him that my colourful father is still colourful and living with me and we parted with a promise from him to visit me again soon and to pay his respects to my colourful father.

Just imagine something like this happening after almost thirty years! Not only that, on my return home, I got a phone call from someone in Mumbai which led to another story from the eighties, but this time based at Ahmedabad, about which, I shall write another post soon.

Do things like this happen to you?


Welcome to another post of the Friday Loose Bloggers’ Consortium when eleven of us post on the same topic chosen by one of us. Today’s topic has been chosen by me.

Please do visit Ashok, Conrad, Grannymar, Magpie11, Maria, Gaelikaa, Helen, Judy, Anu and Ginger to see ten other views on the same topic. Some of these bloggers may be preoccupied with vacations, examinations, family problems and/or romance, so be a little indulgent in case they do not post or post late.

I chose this topic for our LCB for the reason that, I was recently accused of being immature. The reason for this I think is the inability of the accuser to appreciate humour.

Let me give you the background. A newly made friend, who has never been to my home, decided to pay a surprise visit. When the door-bell rang, I was quite surprised to see him and expressed as much. He was stunned and the following conversation took place.

Guest: What? You are surprised? How can that be? I just now spoke to you on the phone to ask you directions to reach your place.

I: Ah, you must have spoken to my son Ranjan.

Guest: But he answered as Rajgopaul when he picked up the phone!

I: But he is a Rajgopaul.

Guest: But he sounded just like you.

I: Thank God that he does and not like our milkman.

Guest: (Taken aback) That is not funny.

I: Why? I think that it is very clever.

Guest: It is so immature to joke about paternity. You are casting aspersions on your wife.

I: Thank God, she is no more here to take offense.

Guest: That is another immature statement.

I gave up. Invited him inside, introduced him to my son and tried to make some conversation, but failed. He was decidedly uncomfortable. Perhaps he thought that I was a bit cracked and decided that I was not quite his cup of tea and scooted before I could offend his sensibilities any further.

I ask you, my readers, whether I was immature or humourous.

To write this post I googled for a definition of “Maturity” and I request that you do too. There are as many definitions as the people who define it. So, I think that I should stick with what has served me well over the last few decades. A definition that I picked up so many years ago, that I have forgotten where or from whom I did.

“Maturity is being able to act courageously but tempering the action with concern”

If I use that definition to analyze the transaction that took place between me and my friend, perhaps I was immature. I did not show concern for his lacking a sense of humour. Perhaps I should have waited to get to know him better before I let off my brand of humour on him.

What do I think? Just take a look:

What do you think?

My Secretary.

I have been blessed with a Secretary who does all the work that I assign her cheerfully and efficiently without asking to be paid for it. Lest she too consigns me to Secretary Anonymous, I shall leave her unnamed and shall not post a photograph of hers though it breaks my heart not to.

This is however to publicly acknowledge that she is wonderful, helpful and more importantly, cheerfully so. In her honour, instead of a photograph, I reproduce a cartoon which should give a clue to her identity. Thank you dear Secretary.