Vinphy’s AnyTimeMoney? Laws:

1. An ATM is a thinking machine. It has an ego so Be Kind to it.

2. On cash-strapped days, one can see the neighborhood ATM grinning from side to side.

3. The bugs in the ATM s/w get activated at the same rate of urgency with which you need cash.

4.The amount of currency inside the ATM is inversely proportional to the amount needed.

5. The newly installed standby machines are just that – stand by.

6. The first time ATM users who are learning all the functions will almost always be before you.

7. An ATM has a soul and a karma and the money in it is an illusion.

8. God doesn’t need cash. All ATM’s are in hell.

9. The queue at the ATM is directly proportional to the urgency of cash needed.

10.‘God-damn-you!’ command to an ATM means that you want to gift your card to it.


P.S: These are my 'real life' experiences/ lessons. Please abide by them seriously.

Voices of fantasy

She had heard them before. They were all there with each a story to tell; stories of wishing wells, stories of magic carpets, stories of talking mirrors, stories of flying elephants, stories of how the sea had turned yellow, stories of a world under the sea and stories about girls who heard voices from the unknown. She believed and so they came. She loved to listen to them. And when she sat up cuddled in her bed or her rocking chair all alone in her room, they would come. An invitation was just not the criteria but they weren’t quite pleased when logic surpassed fantasy. They and she were often amused at the voices of reason outside her room. Skeptical scoundrels!

And then they would begin, taking turns and sometimes pausing a little bit for her. She would jump and clap at the enchanting new world discoveries, she would howl or weep silent tears at losses or separation but best of all, sometimes she would laugh involuntarily. At times like these, they understood. They could feel the joke on her bones; the sick jokes of rational behavior, the stale jokes of believing a mirage and the eternal joke of her hallucinations. But at times like these, the ‘others’ failed miserably. The others had misapprehensions and weird notions of reality. It is this ‘others’ that sought to destroy her from herself. And they classified the ‘others’ as foes, as the stereotypical villains in their stories. But they couldn’t save her for the only protection they could offer was to come to heal her loneliness, to tell her stories from other worlds, to paint her dreams, but most of all believe in themselves so that she could believe in herself.

And when in midst of a story, she had any questions, they would respond at once without her having to ask. They could read her thoughts just as it generated with an uncanny precision known only to her. They knew her inside out; they could feel the rhythm in her veins, the impulses that soared through her back and forth, the voices of reason losing over the voices of fantasy and the myriads of colorful vibrations that enveloped her form. They would sing or dance or just rejoice at the triumphant voices of fantasy.

But then her doctor would visit and spoil it all. He had to come every fortnight or else the voices of reason would be forever lost. He injected her with a syringe and some liquid matter coursed through her veins, right to her brain like a shot to them. They at once ducked these liquid bullets of rational illusions. They, the voices of fantasy had to survive, for in their destruction lay her end and that was something they were not prepared for. They wouldn’t let the ‘others’ win. They fought with the chemical bonds in the liquid which would invariably break off. So this war would last for a week and then suitably diminish around the next week. That’s the time her doctor would visit again as per schedule. The ‘others’ could never win nor could they get rid of her ‘schizophrenic voices’.

Food for thought

After she had put down the receiver…

‘That was P, right?’

‘Yes’

‘Why don’t you let him speak? You were doing all the talking’.

‘That’s how P is!’

‘Oh yeah! So many years and you tell me he prefers to listen and that too to you.’

‘Maa, he had a few questions’.

‘Huh! And you were giving answers to all the questions in this world?’

‘Hehe..he did speak a bit but how could you hear him…next time I’ll on the speaker’.

‘What do you guys keep chatting all the time?’

‘Life, politics, business ideas….gossip, philosophy and yes, mothers too’.

‘Ah that! …and what about marriage?’

‘Yeah, we talk that too. He tells me about his follies and I tell him mine. We sort of console each other. Hehe’.

‘Look girl, intellectualizing and philosophizing is good but you need to be practical too’.

‘But dad had so many sessions devoted to all this at home. And don’t forget, you made loads of chicken for all his friends.’

‘Yeah…leave all that to the men; they have the license to waste time…….besides how long do you think the philosophizing would continue on an empty stomach?

Surprise!

‘Raj, I can’t depend on you. I can’t even relate to you anymore.’

‘It depends, Smita….everything is relative.’

Smita, quite disgusted, switches on the TV. Her nuclear physicist and forgetful husband could never quite get the love fusion right.

BREAKING NEWS….‘India’s pride: a team of nuclear physicists led by Dr. Rajendra Bhonsle has successfully implemented nuclear energy generation for mass consumption. He states, ‘This project will empower our villages and is the most peaceful way to show off our nuclear prowess. Peace to all’.

Smita, brushing off her tears, smiles to herself. There couldn’t have been a better birthday present.


P.S: This started as 55 fiction but somehow grew to become a Drabble, just didnt have the heart to reduce it any further. all thanks to Kartz for introducing me to this concept :)

Vinphy's Date Laws:

1. Prior to the special date, a mountain of a pimple will erupt overnight.

2. A certain well-wisher will fix blind dates for you on your bad-hair days only.

3. The only dress that fit correctly will be in the laundry just before a ‘sudden date’.

4. Your mother will wash that one best-fit, never-washed jean on the day of your ‘first impression date’.

5. If your date is a secret one, you will most definitely meet your curious neighboring aunty at the neighboring table.

6. Your date will almost always arrive after you have escorted a blind old man/woman to the other side of the road and returned to the meeting spot.

7. The more expensive your date dress, the more the chances of something spilling on it.

8. Dandruff comes along with the black dress.

9. Your date will almost always be shorter than you, the one time you wear that extra high, special stilettos.

10. High hopes on your old battered car is of no use; it will run smoothly on that special long drive.


P.S: Please share if you have more and I'm sure you guys have loads to share :)

Mum !!!

‘And where exactly do you think you are going?’

‘My evening walk?’

‘But, where are you heading? How long will you keep drifting? I’m getting older by the second’.

‘O maa! Not now…I don’t know whats written, do I?.... I’ll be back in an hour’.

‘Huh! But you chose to drift, didn’t you? You quit to find new paths!.....You knew what was written then? You just knew you were in a stalemate, didn’t you?’

‘NO, I didn’t know!…nor did I have any illusions…I just followed my heart’.

‘Huh! You don’t have the luxury, girl…Dreams are better at bedtime. Don’t chase an illusion. You will only fall flat with a void too tough to handle alone’.

‘Maa, I don’t know about my dreams or what I am in for. And the recession isn't helping either! The thing I’m sure about is, that, I came back for you….Bye..will be back in an hour…keep the dough ready'.

Hope against hope?

He always wanted to make it big. He always wanted to leave a legacy. And this bright morning, as he stood outside the hot Mumbai studio, he knew his time had come. The auditions were going on in full swing. Mr. Doyle, the new age Robinhood, was making a realistic movie about his folks. They all knew he should be the lead actor. Who else can dance in shit without raising a stink? The movie was rumored to cater to the world’s elite, the world's most civilised people. And then the ‘other’ side would know. O how the West was won!

At last his dreams would come true. So, with a pure intention and a noble cause he marched right ahead into the auditioning rooms. He cleared the dialogue rendition and a dance round with some number like…ding ding dinga with much ease. The final round was a personal interview with Mr. Doyle.

‘So tell me, Shera, why do you think you should play the lead role?’

‘Sir, you are making a movie about scum and squalor rising towards change, a movie of hope against hope and Sir, I am the ‘real’ thing. I actually live in those slums. My folks and I have tough lives but tougher dreams, Sir. We want to bring in a change. Who better than me, Sir? You and I shall win the West. Together, we can and we will. The twain shall meet, Sir.'

Mr. Doyle smiled. Shera knew that he had him there. Wagging his tail with sheer excitement, he headed towards his home with his chest held high in the air. Every dog has his day!

The results were out a few days later. Some outsider by the name of Damal would play the slumdog! And rumor has it that Shera has been chained ever since the first day of the shoot, due to a sudden 'biting' spree.

Love!

Honey, isn’t my nose big?
No sweetheart, your face is small.

…..after 10 years
Honey, am I looking fat?
No sweetheart, these pants are the wrong size.

….after 20 years
Honey, am I drooping?
No sweetheart, even gravity loves you so.

....after 30 years in holy matrimony
Honey, do you believe that ‘Love is Blind’?