Tag: Humor

Let’s put a smile on that face!

  • Would You Keep Your Promise to Meet Someone Years Later?

    Would You Keep Your Promise to Meet Someone Years Later?

    Every now and then, I feel drawn to a particular genre of movies. Movies, where the lead characters of the same or the opposite sex make a pact to meet at a mutually agreed location sometime in the future. Sometimes in a month, some years, and sometimes in a decade or more. 

    The most recent movie from that genre that I ended up watching was a movie called ‘Before Sunset.’ 

    The movie stars Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy – the film is simple but endearing.

    a scene from the movie before sunrise
    Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke enjoying each others company in a scene from the film ‘Before Sunrise’, 1995. (Photo by Castle Rock Entertainment/Getty Images)

    Two strangers meet on a Eurail train, strike a conversation, and end up disembarking in Vienna and spending a night together. 

    Through their free-flowing conversation, roaming the streets of Vienna, they develop an attachment to each other, but instead of acting on it, they decide to meet six months later at the same spot where they parted ways. 

    They only know each other’s first names, nothing more, and agree on having no correspondence in the following six months. 

    I must have seen the movie ten times. But it never grows old.

    Like any other well-meaning fan, I thought their idea of no communication was stupid; I wanted them to make that meeting happen while secretly hoping for a happily ever after. So why the rant?

    I recently read short stories by O.Henry and came across one called After Twenty Years. Yes, you guessed it right! 

    It’s on the same theme, about two friends deciding on a rendezvous two decades later. 

    Jimmy and Bob, two very close friends, were kids when they parted ways, agreeing on a pact to see each other at the restaurant they were together at last. 

    Billy has become a very successful criminal, while Jimmy has taken up a job at the city department.

    While Billy is waiting for his friend at the designated meeting spot, a patrolman walks around and strikes a conversation. Billy is confident that his friend will show up. 

    The patrolman soon takes his leave, and soon after Jimmy shows up. It doesn’t take long for Billy to realize that the man is not Jimmy. 

    The guy mentions that he is a policeman sent by the patrolman, the real Jimmy Wells, to arrest him because his old friend didn’t have the heart to do so himself.

    Of course, I wanted the criminal to be caught but seeing a friend betraying another was still painful. For them to keep a promise made as a child, two decades later, the friendship meant something to both of them. The criminal was entirely in the wrong here, and his friend was duty bound to have him arrested; the moment of betrayal still stings, though.

    I can’t help but wonder if things would have been better if the boys had kept in touch all those years. Was there a possibility of Billy turning Jimmy into a criminal and Jimmy turning him into a police officer? 

    Maybe they would have drifted apart, knowing how different from each other they were, and gone down their separate paths. 

    That’s life as we know it. We grow (and sometimes apart). 

    That possibility, in my mind, still seems a little less painful.

    Was Billy too careless or too gullible to think nothing would change between the friends after two decades of separation? Was he wrong to be fully convinced that the loyalties of ‘yore would still stand? Or was he a little too human? A little too eager to show his accomplishments to his friends and make him proud?

    All I know is that in addition to following the 

    “Location. Location. Location.” mantra all those years, it wouldn’t have hurt him to try:

    Communication. Communication. Communication.

  • Where Would You Hang This Picture in Your Apartment?

    Where Would You Hang This Picture in Your Apartment?

    If you are a creature known to browse the internet in your spare time, identifying (web)surfing as a hobby, there is a good chance that you have come across this picture- ”Lunch atop a skyscraper.” 

    For those who haven’t, fret not; I used to be the same as you until a year ago. Why that does/doesn’t matter will soon be revealed.

    Familiarity breeds contempt, they say. What they don’t say is how fast it does that. 

    Unfortunately for me, this has meant moving from one apartment to another n times in as many years – approximately for six months every year, you will find me looking for apartments. I try to limit this exploration to a 6-block radius of my current dwelling. 

    During one such apartment viewing, I saw the picture for the first time. Fortunately for me, the landlord and his tenants were very kind and patient. They showed me around the apartment. The tour was pretty uneventful (which is precisely how you want an apartment viewing to go) until I saw the painting in the bedroom.

    The picture is unforgettable- and for the calmer, mellow ones out there – a head-turner. 

    a group of construction men having lunch atop a skycraper crane
    The picture in question

    There is something dangerously exciting about it. It makes me dizzy just to look at it, and I am not even acrophobic. A bunch of guys having lunch legs dangling – only on a beam 260 meters above the ground. 

    All of them seem pretty chill, some even laughing and smoking- seemingly with no awareness of the risk they are taking. It won’t come as a surprise then that Time magazine featured this image as  one of the top 100 most influential pictures of all time.

    All of them seem pretty chill, some even laughing and smoking- seemingly unaware of their risk. It won’t come as a surprise then that Time magazine featured this image as one of the top 100 most influential pictures of all time.

    I must have started at the picture of what feels like an eternity in hindsight until the muffled conversations of my imagination turned out to be my host saying – “…this concludes the tour. Do you have any questions?” 

    I had many- but none of them related to the apartment, so I reined in my ego and superego, avoided any foot-in-mouth conversations, and politely took my leave.

    The painting consumed me, but more so the location of it. For the ten minutes, it took me to walk back to my apartment, I was wondering where I would put this picture in my apartment.

    Kitchen? 

    That would kinda mean I celebrate risk-taking when it comes to food. But that would be a lie. I like my staples and don’t meddle with them much. I certainly don’t want to give anybody the impression that I know what I do in the kitchen- which usually means burning something or the other.

    Living room? 

    Maybe, if one day I can make space for it there OR have the courage to throw away one of the 200 to-do calendars I like to hang on the walls. And a big blank white chart with all the Netflix recommendations from friends, family, or anyone really that cared to share, lest I run out of shows to watch.

    So I find the only available space in my tiny apartment – the screensaver on my work laptop. 

    It seems like the perfect spot, doesn’t it? Hidden from the world, yet in plain sight. I feel proud that I have found the ideal solution for my world

    • Prompting myself to take more risks at work, to keep turning into a zombie on remote
    • Avoiding having to explain to a lunatic/dazed future tenant gawping at the picture hanging on my bedroom wall

    Adrenaline or not, this picture saves lives.

  • Thank God It’s Friday!

    Thank God It’s Friday!

    Friday is the second-best day of the week. The feeling as the day comes to a close is a euphoric boost that I think I live for. Not to say that I don’t like what I do on weekdays; I very much do, but not as much as I love the weekends.

    And I pride on not being alone in this preference. I have a long list of peers that report the same sentiment, and not all of them are as dull-witted as I am.

    The funny thing, however, is not that I do something very interesting with my life on weekends either, other than sleeping in for at least 12 hours per day, and the other twelve hours mostly on cooking, eating, transforming my flat from a pig sty to a human habitat, random reading and/or binging on movies or TV series.

    Pretty mundane.

    Or so I used to think.

    Until one fine day, I learned that I might be fit to enter the Guinness book of world records- at least based on the reaction I was getting from my similar peers.

    Unoriginally, let’s call them A, B, and C.

    A: How was your weekend?
    B: Not so bad; I Went hiking with my boyfriend. How about yours?
    A: Drove to the animal park with the family, spent the whole day there, Lots of fun!
    C (looking for a chance to jump in): Oh yeah? That’s so cool! I went shopping with girlfriends in the morning and spent the day at the mall; it was so much fun, but God, am I so broke now!
    A: How about you?
    Me (oh my God! What am I going to say, what am I going to say): Nothing much actually; I stayed in, slept 12 hours though!
    A, B, C (in unison): 12 hours in a day, wow, so lucky! We haven’t had that much sleep in a day for decades; this must be a world record or something!

    So, as euphoric as I feel as the workday comes to a close, on Fridays, I feel the exact opposite on Sunday afternoons.

    The weekend flew extra fast, being one reason and the impending work week grind, another.

    But that isn’t all.

    It’s also about my summary of what I did and didn’t do over the weekend compared to the high-performing weekend-ers that I am pitted against. I tried those weekend outings, but they made my weekend circadian rhythms out of whack. So much to process coming straight out of the weekend!

    Talk about Monday blues!

  • I already know where you are going, my dear!

    I already know where you are going, my dear!

    There is a look about tourists, is there not? There is something in their manner that gives them away.

    It also helps that they are usually found in ‘the spots’ of the city; which makes the art of spotting them seem effortless.

    All that to say, I got a good taste of being spotted as a tourist multiple times during my three-day stay in a different city. I wondered what would have given me away.

    I wasn’t carrying a map or constantly looking at my phone for directions. I spoke their language, so I assumed that language couldn’t have given me away, especially with my concerted efforts to keep my sentences short.

    Here I am, casually strolling through the city, and a very well-meaning elderly lady walks up to me and goes, “ Hello there, Are you lost? I am happy to help you!”

    After the euphoria of being treated so nicely settled down, I politely thanked her for the offer, said I wasn’t lost, and moved on.

    I won’t be honest if I say I didn’t doubt her for a second because I did. For a split second, I was convinced she would spike me coffee at the nearby cafe and rob me or something – a result of watching too much crime drama.

    I thought this incident to be a one-off and moved on, but not long after, the same day, I had another gentle reminder.

    I was at the bus stop. The bus was a few minutes late, which gave me some serious time to doubt my navigation skills and my memory again. The bus arrived, and when I entered through the front door, the polite driver lady said,”‘I know where you are going dear, five bucks please.’

    I must admit her politeness disarmed me. But that was not all. It’s not every day that I meet a mind-reading bus driver. I was so convinced she knew where I was going that I didn’t even mind confirming with her. She knew what she was doing.

    I sat down and quickly googled to confirm that the bus stop was not an express bus. It had many stops en route. She definitely took me as a tourist, didn’t she?

    On the one hand, I was highly impressed by a trip made so easy for me, but on the other, I was not super happy about exposing my ‘tourist’ identity. I had failed my one fun assignment for the day: to fake being a local, faking till I made it.

    But I got ‘made’.

    That superficial sulking didn’t last long. There are advantages to forgetting quickly.

    I’d rather have a mind-reading bus driver every single day. If that comes at the cost of being the ‘eternal tourist,’ so be it.

  • Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K Jerome: Summary and Review

    Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K Jerome: Summary and Review

    Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog) is a humorous account by the renowned British author Jerome K Jerome, detailing a boating holiday spanning a couple of weeks. 

    Funnily enough, the book was initially meant to be written as a serious travel guide, but the comic element in the presentation ended up overpowering everything else. The book was first published in 1889, had widespread success, and never went out of print since its first publication.

    Three Men in a Boat: Summary

    The story begins with an account of three friends- George, Harris, and Jerome (always called J) and J’s dog called Montmorency. The friends happen to be discussing the variety of ailments that plague them and unanimously come to the same conclusion – overwork was to blame. 

    Naturally, the best antidote in that situation turns out to be a holiday, an impromptu one. Options for a holiday are floated around, and the decision of a boating trip on the Thames is finalized.

    They set off the following weekend, reaching the starting point of their journey – George got there first while J and Harris came later after a series of haphazard incidents also involving their bribing a train driver. 

    The rest of the story describes their journey, peppered with a description of the landmarks they passed along the way, ruminating over the historical association of these places. Most of the time, it slips into a series of humorous anecdotes- on a wide variety of topics – weather, the (un)reliability of thermometers, towlines, boats, artificial trout, Irish stew – you name it. 

    Their journey ends the same way it started- eventful.

    Three Men in a Boat: Review and Quotes

    Back to my rant on Three Men in a Boat. 

    I wish I could rave more about it than I do. The story has always had a significant influence on me. There are too many things I relate with J on. Just too many. 

    I am a fan of his stupefying laziness and hilarious condensation of life’s profound philosophical truths. Oh no, never, I don’t think I can ever bring myself to review this – because I relate to the book personally, on so many levels. 

    There is neither a start nor an end to the love that I have for this sacred piece of writing.

    There is much to feel lighthearted about.

    Beware of J’s uncle Podger for example:

    Oh, you leave that to me. Don’t you, any of you, worry yourselves about that. I’ll do all of that.

    Because he’s gonna follow up with this not long after :

    Oh, you can give it up! I have found that myself now. Might just as well ask the cat to find anything, as expect you people to find it

    I’d be surprised if you don’t know at least one such character from your own life. I have more than I need of this Podger supply.

    Their familial woes are not even the tip of the iceberg; their culinary skills are simply out of the world. 

    Consider their community-based preparation of the Irish stew. Even Montmorency was fully invested in the preparation of this exotic meal:

    I forget the other ingredients, but I know nothing was wasted; and I remember that, towards the end, Montmorency, who had evinced great interest in the proceedings throughout, strolled away with an earnest and thoughtful air, reappearing, a few minutes afterwards, with a dead water-rat in his mouth, which he evidently wished to present as his contribution to the dinner; whether in a sarcastic spirit, or with a genuine desire to assist, I cannot say.

    If you thought that was enough, the gentlemen even deliberated putting the rat into the stew.

    Wait till you hear his rant about weather predictions; it’s funny that this is as relevant now as it was a century and a half ago:

    I do think that of all the silly, irritating tomfoolishness that we are plagued with, this weather forecast is about the most aggravating. It forecasts precisely what happened yesterday, or the day before, and precisely the opposite of what is going to happen today.

    And then there are priceless hacks on tenets on preservation:

    I take a great pride in my work, I take it down now and then and dust it. No man keeps his work in a better state of preservation than I do.

    The book was first published in the late nineteenth century and never went out of print. Fans of the book recreate the trip to this day, replete with visits to some of the joints mentioned in the book that survives to this day. 

    One of Mr.Jerome’s publishers famously mentioned this to a friend:

     “I pay Jerome so much in royalties”, “I cannot imagine what becomes of all the copies of that book I issue. I often think the public must eat them.”

    That says something, doesn’t it?

    The book has much to offer if you are looking for a light-hearted read. At the very least, it offers a respite from the mad rush of life-jumping from one goalpost to another. Running from one mindfulness lesson to another implementing none. 

    If nothing else, the bare minimum takeaway from this book is a mantra as simple as this: 

    Sit back. Relax.

    If the three men with extraordinary intelligence could survive a Thames trip, it would be a miracle if you don’t.