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Of late the three balconies of our 7th floor flat have become scary. Occasionally half a dozen or so honey bees have been recceing them with the intention of hiving in our hospitable heights. And we were keeping their doors shut most of the time for fear they may attack little Ishani.
...I had seen umpteen bee-attacks in the campus of IIT KGP which is full of tall majestic trees. You are nicely riding your Chetak scooter back from the St Agnes School carrying your kid on the pillion and all of a sudden you find both of you covered with a blanket of honey bees that sting you like serpents. And you throw your scooter on the road and jump down and lie prone in the ditch as prescribed by the circulars...but it is too late...you wake up in the B C Roy Hospital where the Sister is poking your butts with a couple of antihistamine injections. Sometimes you are kept there overnight under 'observation'...
This morning our front door bell rang, and Ishani and I rushed to open it. And we saw a youth standing there saying:
"Please keep your balcony doors closed for half an hour"
"What happened?"
"There is a huge beehive on the 10th floor and I've been called to remove it...some of the disturbed bees may come down and attack you...I'm knocking on every flat to warn them before I smoke out the hive"
"Oh, ok...how much do you charge for your services?"
"Rs 500"
"500!!!"
"Yes, I've come all the way from Sheikpet, you know"
"Don't you get stung by the bees?"
"Oh, a couple of them do sting...but what of it?"
And then he smacked his lips and said:
"I get the honey, no?"
"Oh, you are a honey vendor?"
"Yes, you want some?"
"No, thanx!"
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
I got a call from Prof KK who was my co-teacher of the First Year Jumbo class. He asked if I was free since he wanted to have a discussion on the localization of fringes. I said welcome and I would pick him up from his C1 Qrs near Dreamland Hotel and drive down to the Department.
We reached there and were immersed in our discussion in my Office, C-236.
All of a sudden we found a stone hitting our window pane, shattering it, and landing at our feet. On inspection we found it was a huge big hail stone. And within seconds there was this tre-MEN-dous hail storm and we heard glass panes of every other room shattered, splintered, and banged high and mighty.
KK remembered that his 8-year-old son was alone in his Qrs and rang him up. The kid said he was fine crouching under the bed but the glass panes of their bathroom seemed to have gone with the wind.
And then there was this phone call from my wife in B-140, which was a glass house, saying that ALL the 20 glass panes on the Northern wing of our flat were shattered, ground into chips, and lay scattered all over the floor.
And I went to the window of my office to watch my brand new Maruti 800. And found it getting pummeled on its top. And could see that my car-top started resembling the moonscape with li'l li'l craters...
...they are still there as a fond memento of that stormy afternoon at IIT KGP...
And several cars behind it were also taking hits, several glass windows shattered.
We wound up our discussion in a hurry and came down to watch the spectacle from the ground floor landing. And found the wise Prof B watching the scene with a smile on his face. And I said:
"Terrific storm and nuisance, no?"
"Yes"
"Most everyone must be cursing since they have to clear the mess in their Qrs"
"Yes...but there is one man I know who is the happiest right now"
"Who, who?"
"Daljeet Singh of Gole Bazaar?"
"Why, why?"
"He is the glass pane contractor for IIT, don't you know?"
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
There is the story of this British gentleman, let us call him Mr Churchill, sailing from Southampton to Sydney.
His ship got wrecked in a furious storm one night and he found himself on a wooden plank floating on the high seas.
Eventually he reached land after many days and nights, famished like our Pi.
And woke up to find himself surrounded by natives who were enormously friendly...they cheered him, warmed him, fed him sumptuously, gave him uplifting spirits and a bath in the pond, smeared him with sandalwood paste, gave him another round of roast lamb and venison and honey and sweetmeats, and garlanded him ceremonially.
And then they were leading him to he knew not where:
"Where are you taking me?"
"To meet our king who will be most happy to see a white gent like you after many many years"
"What is his name?"
"Hata Mata, the Glorious"
"Is he the Bigg Boss around?"
"Yes, he is the Emperor Supreme of our chain of islands"
"What are they called?"
"Korowai Islands of Papua"
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...I had seen umpteen bee-attacks in the campus of IIT KGP which is full of tall majestic trees. You are nicely riding your Chetak scooter back from the St Agnes School carrying your kid on the pillion and all of a sudden you find both of you covered with a blanket of honey bees that sting you like serpents. And you throw your scooter on the road and jump down and lie prone in the ditch as prescribed by the circulars...but it is too late...you wake up in the B C Roy Hospital where the Sister is poking your butts with a couple of antihistamine injections. Sometimes you are kept there overnight under 'observation'...
This morning our front door bell rang, and Ishani and I rushed to open it. And we saw a youth standing there saying:
"Please keep your balcony doors closed for half an hour"
"What happened?"
"There is a huge beehive on the 10th floor and I've been called to remove it...some of the disturbed bees may come down and attack you...I'm knocking on every flat to warn them before I smoke out the hive"
"Oh, ok...how much do you charge for your services?"
"Rs 500"
"500!!!"
"Yes, I've come all the way from Sheikpet, you know"
"Don't you get stung by the bees?"
"Oh, a couple of them do sting...but what of it?"
And then he smacked his lips and said:
"I get the honey, no?"
"Oh, you are a honey vendor?"
"Yes, you want some?"
"No, thanx!"
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
One fine Sunday afternoon of late February 2002:
I got a call from Prof KK who was my co-teacher of the First Year Jumbo class. He asked if I was free since he wanted to have a discussion on the localization of fringes. I said welcome and I would pick him up from his C1 Qrs near Dreamland Hotel and drive down to the Department.
We reached there and were immersed in our discussion in my Office, C-236.
All of a sudden we found a stone hitting our window pane, shattering it, and landing at our feet. On inspection we found it was a huge big hail stone. And within seconds there was this tre-MEN-dous hail storm and we heard glass panes of every other room shattered, splintered, and banged high and mighty.
KK remembered that his 8-year-old son was alone in his Qrs and rang him up. The kid said he was fine crouching under the bed but the glass panes of their bathroom seemed to have gone with the wind.
And then there was this phone call from my wife in B-140, which was a glass house, saying that ALL the 20 glass panes on the Northern wing of our flat were shattered, ground into chips, and lay scattered all over the floor.
And I went to the window of my office to watch my brand new Maruti 800. And found it getting pummeled on its top. And could see that my car-top started resembling the moonscape with li'l li'l craters...
...they are still there as a fond memento of that stormy afternoon at IIT KGP...
And several cars behind it were also taking hits, several glass windows shattered.
We wound up our discussion in a hurry and came down to watch the spectacle from the ground floor landing. And found the wise Prof B watching the scene with a smile on his face. And I said:
"Terrific storm and nuisance, no?"
"Yes"
"Most everyone must be cursing since they have to clear the mess in their Qrs"
"Yes...but there is one man I know who is the happiest right now"
"Who, who?"
"Daljeet Singh of Gole Bazaar?"
"Why, why?"
"He is the glass pane contractor for IIT, don't you know?"
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
There is the story of this British gentleman, let us call him Mr Churchill, sailing from Southampton to Sydney.
His ship got wrecked in a furious storm one night and he found himself on a wooden plank floating on the high seas.
Eventually he reached land after many days and nights, famished like our Pi.
And woke up to find himself surrounded by natives who were enormously friendly...they cheered him, warmed him, fed him sumptuously, gave him uplifting spirits and a bath in the pond, smeared him with sandalwood paste, gave him another round of roast lamb and venison and honey and sweetmeats, and garlanded him ceremonially.
And then they were leading him to he knew not where:
"Where are you taking me?"
"To meet our king who will be most happy to see a white gent like you after many many years"
"What is his name?"
"Hata Mata, the Glorious"
"Is he the Bigg Boss around?"
"Yes, he is the Emperor Supreme of our chain of islands"
"What are they called?"
"Korowai Islands of Papua"
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Post Script
The Korowai tribe of south-eastern Papua could be one of the last surviving tribes in the world engaging in cannibalism.
...wiki
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