Showing posts with label funny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funny. Show all posts

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Tale of the Titles...

Since I took to the fantasy of writing a book, the most difficult thing to come up with has not been the plot or the story but the title. I was wondering how all the famous authors come up with names for their books. What if the title of a great book fails to bring out the drama, the action or tension of the story? So I thought before venturing into the world of writing, I should first try my hand at coming up with titles for probable storylines. Here is a list of few titles I could come up with.

Runaway Equator – An Autobiography of an Obese Man

All Foreplay No Sex – Review of English/French/Italian football team in FIFA World Cup 2010

Premature Ejaculation – Review of Argentina’s performance at FIFA World Cup 2010

Who Wants to be a Millionaire – A peek into a politician’s life

The Maze and the Mist – Making of Leonardo Di Caprio’s ‘The Inception’

The Maze, The Mist and The Miss - Making of 'The Pirates of the Carribean.'

The Maze, The Mist, The Miss and The Mysterious Guy - Making of the 'Twilight' series

Monday, December 13, 2010

Wiki Leaks?

Sometimes my brigade of aunties is quite difficult to handle. Especially when they get into the “oh! The today’s generation” mode. And sometimes when they get curious about various new age phenomena there is no telling where the discussion might go. I generally seek the nearest escape route when I hear of an expedition whose destination is our home. One afternoon however I was caught like a rat in a trap with the full strength of the aunt brigade at my house.
I was as usual surfing the net when the attack happened.

“What do you ‘young children’ keep doing on the net all the time?” Pammi aunty asked in a reprimanding tone, “why don’t you do some ‘real’ work?”

“I know,” the all knowing Sheila aunty said, “Facebook-Shacebook, what else do these kids have? We used to have all real friends.”

I had to stand my ground. Now that there was no escape, I decided to stay and fight. “Actually I was reading some news to base my article on.” I defended myself.

“What news-shews?” Sheila aunty spoke again, “a couple of rapes in Delhi, an encounter in Kashmir, some policemen killed by naxalites and parliament shut down by opposition. There is nothing more than that in the news.”

“So what are you going to write about?” Generally taciturn Gurpreet aunty asked in a tone which suggested, the topic was not important, whatever I write would anyways would not be worth reading.

“Well,” I said, “I was thinking I should write something about Wikileaks. Everyone seems to be writing about it.”

“What is Wikileaks?” Pammi aunty asked.

“I know,” again Sheila aunty, “it is that website where you get information about everything.”

“No aunty, its Wikipedia.”

“Yes yes, I know,” Sheila aunty was not the one to quit, “that only. It was hacked by some hackers. Thats why they call it Wikileaks.”

“No aunty,” I said, “it’s a different website. Wikileaks leaked US secret cables.”

“You mean the secret cable TV channels only available in US?” Pammi aunty asked.

“No cables as in wires, like telegrams.” I tried to explain. “Like messages sent by US diplomats around the world. About different countries and governments.”

“So what?” Gurpreet aunty was as sarcastic as ever.

“These cables were secret. They contradict many publicly endorsed positions of the US Government.” I said.

“So what?” It was Sheila aunty’s turn now, “Anyhow no one ever believes US Government’s publicly endorsed opinions. They say ‘wonder what US is thinking if it is saying such and such in public’ and Wikileaks must have just added to the confusion.”

“Wikileaks has taken the world by storm.” I said growing impatient, “Julian Assange has become an overnight celebrity. He has become a hero for some and villain for others. And left US Government offering explainations to most Governments in the world.”

“So he is an international kaamwaali bai (domestic help)” Pammi aunty said.

“What?” I asked incredibly.

“That is what our maids do.” Pammi aunty offered an explaination, “when a housewife complains to her husband about their neighbours, the maid listens silently and then goes out and tells other women in the complex what the housewife said. Similarly she tells other maids who in turn tell their mistresses and soon the whole complex knows who thinks what about whom.”

I could not help but feel a sense of wonder at how Pammi aunty had simplified a major international event. What she said later was truly a pearl of wisdom.

“And like a good neighbourhood, everything would be all fine despite Wikileaks you see.” She said, “When the word about who said what about whom spreads, women know what her neighbor thinks or says about her. But she never complains or confronts her neighbor and instead keeps up the pretence of being unaware. And the one who has said the words in the first place, knowing the other woman is aware and yet acting indifferent, keeps up the pretense of innocence, and so all goes as usual in the neighbourhood. What do you think would happen in the world?”