Shanky Row : A Tribute

Today, I revive an activity in which I had lost all interest, a calling for which I had lost all passion because I, have been Inspired.

I sit presently in my English Public-Speaking class. Our assignment for the day is to introduce a famous personality. To that effect, I introduce to you a revered personage, a pioneer of Idiocy, Imperfection and Perversion, Ess Row.


Ess Row is one of the oldest members of the faculty at the Manipal Institute of Technology (The Other MIT) and most obviously so. Owing to what I can imagine would "never" qualify as one of Humanity's Top 100 Blunders of All Time, he has ended up in the Faculty of English of this esteemed institution.
As is known the world over, Indian engineers have held a reputation for their numerous deficiencies in the English Language and it is only due to the unending commitment of personalities such as our very own Mr. Row that this has been made possible. His endeavours continue in full spirit to this very day.

The Genre of English that Mr. Row "specialises" in may be classified as either old-fashioned (such as that of American Indians) or highly progressive (such as that of the very first talking buffalo.) Either way, his command on it is commendable.

The only ground on which his magnanimity suffers is a lack of sophistication for Sophistication in itself exists neither in his style, nor his vocabulary. Do not get me wrong. What I straightforwardly want to convey is that "Sophistication" does not exist in his vocabulary, as do not many other 5-10 letter words and more. But come now. Surely that is all secondary.

As far as physical appearances go, there is a striking connection between his brain and his head. While his braincells almost a similar shade of grey as that of his hair, his brain is as deficient of the former as his head is of the latter. It is truly uncanny and is perhaps symbolic of his ingenuity.

Ess Row is a charismatic speaker. Whilst before an audience, he exudes charm through his captivating mannerisms, vivid gestures (pronounced "Guess-chers") and posture, highly reminiscent of a Bronze Statue (and the finest of all, at that). As he stands there, rooted to his spot like a banyan tree, with his arms fastened to his sides (with what appears to be Superior Quality Glue), talking endlessly for hours to an end, the audience listens mesmerised (and/or snoring very very softly.)

This tribute would be incomplete without a mention of his spotless diction. Row feels that our youth is regrettably adopting the American manner if talking, a most undesirable trait. He is of the firm opinion that we should instead follow the British as our linguistic role-models. For example, when we say "What", "When", "Where" and "Why" we fall short of stressing on the 'h'. Instead, we should pronounce the same words as "fHought", "fHen", "fHair" and "fHy". Sure the "W" sounds closer to an "F" than to itself but that is how, he alleges, the british pronounce it and that is how we, i beg your pardon, fHe should too.

He is also a strict and intelligent disciplinarian. In today's class, as I approached him for permission to slip down to the men's room, he firmly said 'No' as I went to the restroom in EVERY English class and knowing that I was up to no good. How it could slip from my that I had already exhausted my Quota for Trips-To-The-Bathroom in the 2-Hour-Long English class, I fail to understand.
It didn't end there. When he asked us to volunteer to come forth and present our assignments and I stepped forward, he declined saying that I would probably deliver my bit and run away.

How, I ask, HOW did he see right through my plan? Was it so transparent after all?
My entire strategy of first, waiting for one hour of the class to get over, then requesting for permission to slip down to the loo (JUST to throw him off-track), then volunteering to deliver my speech and, having done so, before his very eyes, grabbing my bag, books and running out the door, while he sat there looking passively and feeling helpless in the entire affair for surely it was beyond his power to cancel my attendance or deduct marks from my internals, had I the audacity to simply run away.
What a smart fellow!

This brings us to the culmination of a glowing tribute to a person who truly deserves every word of praise (for Acclamation and Commendation are very big words).... Mr. Ess Row!

I admit....

.... I've been lazy. And most obviously, I haven't been posting a whole lot lately.
I apologise.

I have a fairly good reason though. I've mentioned it already.

I'm lazy.

It isn't as if lots haven't been happening lately. One simply doesn't have the patience to transcribe events. Well, it doesn't help if one DOES have the patience while one is walking on a street or doing laundry, but it simply vanishes when pen, paper and/or laptop is in access. It's a most peculiar phenomenon but it exists. And there's very little we can do about it, except gawk at it.

So what HAS been happening off-late?
I started Salsa classes and they're fun. Heavily over-subscribed, no doubt, but fun! And I finally learn a ball-room dance! Hurrah!

Classes are more boring than ever. On the brighter side, they make the Breakfast and Lunch break all the more interesting.

I have no non-academic occupation that I have to fit into routine, which troubles me so.

Sessional Tests are close, and having been blessed with the worst teachers of each department, I feel ever so ready to perform pathetically.

Everyone around all of a sudden seems to be broke. Myself included. It is my belief that there is some supernatural phenomenon operating all around that seems to be driving us penny-less.

The newspaper seems to have nothing appealing nowadays.

Manipal is rather windy and the sun isn't strong so it isn't all that unpleasant to step out anymore.


There seems to be no College Fest around the corner for me to attend.

March draws closer.

I suppose that's all I can think of. Something juicy should hit this page soon.
Stay tuned!

.... in a nutshell.

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A Tale Of Two Blondies

I was rather honoured to be allowed into a delegation of the Literary And Debating Club of our college, representing it at the recently concluded Cultural Festival of IIM, Bangalore (Unmaad) in which I took part in a rather innovative competition called "Spin Doctor."
The contest involved Creative Writing and Extempore and required a vivid imagination.

While a member of our delegation won the first position (Great going, VJ), I tied with a member of the host college for the second position.

The prelims of the contest required us to string together four images provided by them and weave up a story. It had to be as insane as possible, with no room for common sense. In their words, "humour would be appreciated."

The story was to be limited to one A4 sized sheet, the hardest restriction.

The four images were..

1. A Britney Spears promo picture.
2. The Leaning Tower Of Pisa.
3. A Penguin
4. A Hot Air Balloon.

I thus present my entry, which I call "A Tale Of Two Blondies"
Please do not seek any logic. Nor reason.
______________

It was a rather cloudy day. As the rain lashed the windows, Britney sat in her living room consulting an outdated weather forecast. Having decided to make most of the "clear, sunny day", she committed to embarking upon a "Tour de la France."

Britney had made a New Year Resolution on the first day of that month to become self sufficient. That the month was August did not bother her.
Thus she chalked out her itinerary (with chalk), purchased her own air-tickets, flew more than half way across the world (US to Europe, trans-pacific) and completed her journey.

"The Eiffel Tower! How romantic," she gasped as she looked upon the Leaning Tower Of Pisa.
Unable to converse with the elevator operator in spite of aid from her "French To English" Dictionary, she climbed the steps to the top floor for a scenic view only to find another blonde leaning out the window.

"I wish you wouldn't lean so," spat an impatient Britney. "Your weight is making the tower tilt."

"Oh, I must find a way to escape this imprisonment," cried the blonde, Rapunzel. "My prince charming is waiting for me. And that Old-Hag-Of-A-Witch could return any moment. Her watch isn't working, you see. I'm afraid my hair isn't long enough to let me down any more. I suppose I should've avoided a hair-cut."

"Why did you get a hair-cut?"

"Well, I had a free coupon. And the bob is in fashion again."

"How foolish could you possibly get?" exclaimed Britney, disregarding her own existence.

"Hark! How dare you call me foolish!" thundered Rapunzel. "I shall turn you into a frog!"

"Ha!" Ha-ed Britney. "You couldn't if you wanted to. You aren't the Old-Hag-Of-A-Witch."

"Well," chirped an annoyed Rapunzel, "it would interest you to know that I am, in fact, training under the Old-Ugly-Hag-Of-A-Witch."

As Britney 'Uh Oh'-ed, Rapuzel brandished out her new wand (the broken end of a broomstick that the Old-Hag-Of-A-Witch had (ab)used upon Rapunzel on having learnt that she would have to take to climbing steps.) and promptly turned Britney into a penguin. Clearly, she hadn't been following her lessons well.

Britney didn't mind too much for the void in her head was now gone, possibly because her brain now fit well into her head.

Meanwhile, in an unfortunate turn of events, the Bush administration had issued recent orders for extermination of all penguins on the planet.
"I firmly believe that penguins are up to no good," Bush had lashed from atop a Banana tree. "They may look harmless.... Do not be fooled! Look at their faces! Is it not obvious that they are conspiring to do away with the human race? Our lives are under threat! They mustn't live!"
As an alleged innovation, he decided to have them mounted on hot-air balloons and buried into the ground.

And thus, the planet was freed of all penguins as well as Britney.

Rapunzel continued to lean out the window until one day, the tower gave way and collapsed, granting her an escape. As she looked up at heaven and thanked the holy lord, she was , unexpectedly, attacked and devoured by a lost hyena.

The End.
________________

The second round (finals) was all the more exciting. But that's another story.