Ideal tenants

Read a funny ad in the newspaper…or, no! The source was the maid who brings across much more entertaining news…gossips of our neighbors with whom we are more connected, of course, through the maid only. This particular item was more of a news rather than gossip; a news which only amazed me to think, “to what extant folks go out to kill old age”. One Mrs. P, wishing to rent her 2 BKH plush flat laid out the following conditions: 1. Husband should be working; 2. wife also should be working; 3. preferably no kids; 4. or only one kid; and 5. no parents. After all, the flat, built from Dirham, was much dearer to Mrs. P which had made her to deposit consign her mother-in-law to a home; the expectations from the tenant was to maintain the flat and send the parents to a home for old people spoil the wall…floors…entire flat. It is because of such Mrs. P that the demand for play school, day school and homes for parents have gone up. We are only growing attached to things and using our parents. The icing on the cake – the maid announced one more condition: 6. tenant to appoint her as the maid – this gives comfort factor to Mrs. P that her maid continues to keeps her flat neat and tidy and fills her up with gossips about the tenant. Death is our final destination and yet we, humans, run far from it by abdicating our responsibility which we owe to our parents. Mrs. P and her club members may be reeling under the notion that they are immortal. But… “Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.” ― William Shakespeare, As You Like It I only wish the likes of Mrs. P that they reach the last stage to reap the fruits that they have sown.

Hit

It was the familiar hunting spot and I noticed the pair with tinge of blue slowly moving in circles as if dancing…celebrating their love; this was despite being doused with lethal dosage of Tetramethrin, Cypermethrin and Imiprothrin. No. This was not an execution by khap panchayat of same gothra lovers. The two cockroaches refused to die and I once more liberally sprayed and their movement picked up speed; with satisfaction, I was about to make a turn and at that precise moment I could suddenly hear voices…dying voices making fun of me…us. I heard the first one boasting about its adaptability skills and mutations; I heard, “we are more evolved than our predecessors and have altered our taste buds to avoid sweet poisons, we are growing resistant to water and our R&D department is focusing on better wing spans and our eventual goal is immortality. You foolish human, we two were working in project immortality and we were close to achieving the formula”. My eyes stared at them. What were these? Ageing superstars or some psychopaths like amudhan and ilamaaran. The other one jeered at me, “Two type cockroach in the world. Two type. One us, coming from gutter. One you, coming from the society. We biting, you going sick. You biting others, bloody whole society going sick. You spray us with Hit, we going upside down. But there is no Hit for you society cockroaches”. Saying so, it went upside down. I was amazed that this one knew some film dialogues, which were quite old. Wondering when and where it saw this movie. The first one movement’s quickened and it became a past tense after quickly muttering these cautionary words, “Civilization is a thin, dangerously fragile veneer, and when that veneer cracks, man shall became one of the beasts again, falling back into the slime of the primeval abyss he prides himself on having climbed up from.” I had seen this one grazing on Sidney Sheldon’s “The Naked face”.

kiss...of death

She was so enchanted from the very first day her friends introduced him in her life that she dictched her current boy-friend; after all her friends deemed fit to introduce him into her life on her birthday. He was the birthday present; he was a charmer, smooth-talker, much more refined than her ex, was very well connected, very good singer, all-round entertainer. He was so sweet that she called him 'lollipop'. He brought into life new friends...connected her world wide. The only problem was he was 'rich looking'; she had to finance all their endeavours but did she care. She was so smitten with him that she chose to overlook her parents warning, 'foolish girl...you are spending too much time on it'. Calling him 'it' was contemptuous enough; she was full of him. He loved her soft ears the most and caressed her; she loved him being there. Her parents warned her not to get reckless but she had other plans; that afternoon, on their way to cinema theatre, while crossing the road, she was all engrossed with him when she got ran over by a sand truck. Though she got badly crushed but he lay in her blood soaked palm...alomost intact. He was her android lollipop smartphone.