Lanky Vs. The Blowfish - The Great Game Again

There's the version of the Great Game that pits the renting rodents against the Landlords of the universe. And there's the part that pits dwarves against trolls...buyers.vs.sellers! The bloodiest version of the Game ever played!

Consider this average Joe Lean and Lanky walking down the road one day, when he is taken by the sudden thought : Why rent, when I can own! And as every Detritus and Vimes will tell you, this is when the little pebbles start moving inexorably towards the lip of the cliff.

Ofcourse, Lean and Lanky, not knowing the theory of the pebbles, goes forth and whom should he meet but Brigadier Blowfish who, lo and behold, has a flat to sell! The Game begins.

Lean and Lanky offers, Blowfish demurs. Not losing hope, Lean stretches his mental wallet and plays another hand. And another hand. And yet another hand. The Blowfish accepts! Now comes the time for all great players to crack their knuckles in earnest...The Deal.

The Deal is not just something you see at the tables of Las Vegas, but is a timeless dance through which the seller leads the buyer. One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, step, twirl...and if you miss the beat, you'll trip your way right out. If you are lucky, you won't leave with a bloody nose.

Lean and Lanky, though born leftfooted (in the way some people are congenitally left handed!), stomps his way through the dance. But only just. The pebbles are rolling in earnest now, and are picking up baby boulders on the way!

Keen as mustard to buy and move into his new home , Lean and Lanky is all set to leave his current digs and has togged off his landlord. But where will he go?! For while Brigadier Blowfish is dancing, it's a different tune that Lean and Lanky has to step to. The Blowfish may have agreed to sell, but he has not yet agreed to clear out of the flat in time! There, the boulders have just tipped over the edge and are thundering they way down. If Brigadier Blowfish does not plan to hand the flat over before Lean and Lanky's Landlord heaves and hoes, the baby boulders will be just the beginning of the landslide. In big flashing red letters.

Lucky for Lanky that being a Blowfish takes money, and the Brigadier is equally keen to see the color of Lean's money. So they stumble through the dance, and its now the last play of the Game.

Lean being a fast learner, has picked up a few tricks along the way, and is all set to see this hand go his way. The papers are signed, stamped and registered, and Lean and Lanky forks over; but holds back just enough to ensure that the Brigadier packs his bags and blows out of the way as agreed. Roll of Dice - Game to Lanky.

The Blowfish deflated, and a flat tucked under his arm, Lean and Lanky steps out of the Game and struts away, whistling a merry tune. The Game played out his way this time...but just barely. A more formidable opponent, a more relentless seller, and one more would have been laid low by The Great Game!

Fairmont

Mr.Mosaranna - pics from the flat...coz you asked

The Family Descends on Lamlin Cottage

The menagerie decided to take that long-discussed family holiday at the cottage in Ooty...so come one breezy weekend in July, we bundled into the car and drove up into the blue hills.

While most roadtrips are a pleasure, for me (when driving in comfort with the A/C going!), the trips up to Ooty go a few dollops beyond....I love the way you can see the road snaking across the plains and winding up into the hills, I love the way the foliage changes and the temperature drops as we go higher. I especially love the smell of the Eucalyptus and the conifers, and I love the silence that suddenly blankets you.

You just cannot beat the way the oh-so-important things from your life back at the city slowly, but surely, get stripped away and evaporate. No worries, no intrusive phone calls, no emails, no meetings, and MOST importantly, no deadlines. Life marches to a different drummer up here in the hills, and only thing knocking at your door is likely to be a woodpecker!

Coming back to our menagerie, we spent the weekend lounging around the cottage, drinking tea while watching the sunset (technicolor, widescreen!!), and listening to the sounds of silence. And my brother spent most of that time shivering...the boy is hopeless in the cold!!

Am taking a page (post?) out of Vee's and Dent's blogs and bunging in a collage here of the pics I took...my favorites are the ones I call 'Big Red Hiding Hood', 'Cawwots!' and 'The House Keeper'....see if you can't pick them out!

For me, Ooty is where I go to recharge ; I can't wait for an excuse to head for the cottage...paper work with the bank, meeting with the lawyer, problems with the plumbing...anything that gets me out of the city and up, up and away!

Uncommon Sense

One of my grand-uncles used to say that common sense is most uncommon. And while he only used to gently direct this at his beloved better-half, hoping to rile her, it occurs to me that this applies to a much larger set of people out there **indicating the world at large**

This is no idle statement ; I have had more that just a few such uncommonly sensible people trip across my lifeline, to bring affirmation to this thought.

For example, the special breed that comprises the 'IT Helpdesk' of many an organization. It takes a formidable amount of uncommon sense to manage the IT setup of any organization and to keep users separated from their data and crucial files. And come those moonlit nights when harddrives everywhere crash, these intrepid souls take it upon themselves to restore that which is your lifeline. Except that this invariably fails to include the following, hence turning said lifeline into a greased rope:

• Current Email
• Email Archives
• Working files
• Favorites Lists
• Desktop files

Another example is the average joe motorist on the roads, these days. And I use the term motorist loosely...you can take this to include chappies (and chappettes) behind the wheel of cars, vans, trucks, buses, 3-wheeler abominations, or on scooters, motorbikes and bicycles. The whole vehicular gamut. This particular breed has an uncommonly keen sense of direction and navigation. One that usually cuts across the front of your car at the traffic signal, or clips you on the elbow at a turning. Not to mention that this includes driving on the wrong side, parking in the no parking zones, switching lanes faster than the nappies on an incontinent baby without signaling.

A few other precious gems, who must not go unmentioned, are

• Waiters who set only spoons on the table when you have just ordered spaghetti or a steak
• Dhobis who will carefully iron out the tuck-in fold on the bottom of your jeans that you got done when you shortened them
• Utility services that terminate your service for failure to pay your bills on time, when they dispatch the bill on/two days after the due date
• Parking attendants who line up cars so close, ahead of, behind and next to your car, that you can only get in and out of there by apparating

I could go on...but I don't think I will. I think I will leave the rest of this precious lot for you to discover on your own.

**Sniffle**

Life is tasteless.

Literally.

Coz' am coming down with a cold. My tongue has died and gone over to the other side. And my throat is aching to follow. Aching being the operative word. And my eyes are burning. And my head is hurting. And I am seeing big huge purple spots, sort of like a world of Barneys on rampage (inclusive of the irritating *naah naah naah, you love me, blah blah blah* jingle).

All I want to do, is die.

If I can't get that, then all I want is a hot mug of sweet tea, or some hot-n-sour chicken soup, or a peanut butter sandwich, and a snuggly comforter (Mom, if you can't make it, pls send me a razaai)

!

Giving in to temptation

It was the moment of truth. Either I could or I couldn't.

Oh, I wanted to...really wanted to. Had wanted to for as long as I could remember. And hadn't for longer than I could forget.

I looked out the window, past the floating curtains....I could almost imagine giving in...feel it against my skin...oh, I wanted to be a part of it.

Faint cries carried to me, words swept away by the wind....the Call was strong.

That was it; I could stand it no longer. To hell with what people thought, or what it looked like, I didn't care anymore. I had to...just had to.

So...I grabbed my Speedos, hauled them on, and stepped out in what can only be termed a nightmare of a swimsuit round.

One big splash later, I was there. In the pool, swimming, happy.

Water Baby! :o)

His fleet is bigger than mine...I wanna new one!

Airline companies....now this has to be the latest in keeping-up-with-the-Kumars! Everyone is doing it...beer barons, maharajas...am sure you and I will be the next!

Here's my vision for my airline company : Taz Air - "Fly However You Want!"

• Budget option fly-it-yourself two seaters, with packs of peanut butter sandwiches and tea under the seats (disastrous results if used as parachutes),
• Family flying by hot-air baloon, with double-decker baskets (bottom deck with built in library, bean bags, pets and snack counters), and
• The Grand Flying Businessman, which comes with technology that cellphone usage DOES NOT interfere with (for all those who married their phones, or atleast have a torrid affair going), diet meals (we match all them crazy diets out there...you name 'em!), and a laundromat for the exec on the move.

No Ecomony, No Business class ...

**Dopey grin on face, with brain-in-cloud look in eyes**

Over and Out.

Radio Silence

On account of certain vital cogs in the wheel deciding to resign and move on in Life, Taz is up to her neck, her halo and her guardian angel (he usually hovers at 15ooo feet) in work, work and more work. So not be expecting anything out of her! No brilliance, no opinions, no rants, no raves...nothing...not a peep. Nada. Zip.

The Taz has left the room, Ladies and Gentlemen.

And will think about coming back in only after a week or so....till then, be good, play hard, and don't do anything I wouldn't do!