AIRTEL

One thing that has always bugged me, and I'm sure it does most of you, is to sit down at the dinner table only to be interrupted by a phone call from a telemarketer. I decided, on one such occasion, to try to be as irritating as they were to me. The call was from Airtel and it went something like this:
Me: Hello
AIRTEL: Hello, this is AIRTEL...
Me: Is this AIRTEL?
AIRTEL: Yes, this is AIRTEL...
Me: This is AIRTEL?
AIRTEL: Yes This is AIRTEL...
Me: Is this AIRTEL?
AIRTEL: YES! This is AIRTEL, may I speak to Mr. Murali please?
Me: May I ask who is calling?
AIRTEL: This is AIRTEL.
Me: OK, hold on.
At this point I put the phone down for a solid 5 minutes thinking that, surely, this person would have hung up the phone. Much to my surprise, when I picked up the receiver, they were still waiting.
Me: Hello?
AIRTEL: Is this Mr. Murali?
Me: May I ask who is calling please?
AIRTEL: This is AIRTEL...
Me: Is this AIRTEL?
AIRTEL: Yes this is AIRTEL...
Me: This is AIRTEL?
AIRTEL: Yes, is this Mr. Murali?
Me: Yes, is this AIRTEL?
AIRTEL: Yes sir.
Me: The phone company?
AIRTEL: Yes sir.
Me: I thought you said this was AIRTEL.
AIRTEL: Yes sir, we are a phone company.
Me: I already have a phone.
AIRTEL: We aren't selling phones today Mr. Murali.
Me: Well whatever it is, I'm really not interested but thanks for calling.
When you are not interested in something, I don't think you can express yourself any plainer than by saying "I'm really not interested", but this lady was persistent.
AIRTEL: Mr. Murali we would like to offer you 10 paise a minute, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year.
Now, I am sure she meant she was offering a "rate" of 10 paise a minute but she at no time used the word rate. I could clearly see that it was time to whip out the trusty old calculator and do a little ciphering.
Me: Now, that's 10 paise a minute 24 hours a day?
AIRTEL: (getting a little excited at this point by my interest) Yes sir that's right! 24 hours a day!
Me: 7 days a week?
AIRTEL: That's right.
Me: 365 days a year?
AIRTEL: Yes sir.
Me: I am definitely interested in that! Wow!!! That's amazing!
AIRTEL: We think so!
Me: That's quite a sum of money!
AIRTEL: Yes sir, it's amazing how it ads up.
Me: OK, so will you send me checks weekly, monthly or just one big one at the end of the year for the full 52,560, and if you send an annual check, can I get a cash advance?
AIRTEL: Excuse me?
Me: You know, the 10 paise a minute.
AIRTEL: What are you talking about?
Me: You said you'd give me 10 paise a minute, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. That comes to 144 per day, 1008 per week and 52,560 per year. I'm just interested in knowing how you will be making payment.
AIRTEL: Oh no sir I didn't mean we'd be paying you. You pay us 10 paise a minute.
Me: Wait a minute here!!! Didn't you say you'd give me 10 paise a minute. Are you sure this is AIRTEL?
AIRTEL: Well, yes this is AIRTEL sir but......
Me: But nothing, how do you figure that by saying that you'll give me 10 paise a minute that I'll give you 10 paise a minute? Is this some kind of subliminal telemarketing scheme? I've read about things like this in the Enquirer you know. Don't use your alien rainwashing  techniques on me.
AIRTEL: No sir we are offering 10 paise a minute for.....
Me: THERE YOU GO AGAIN! Can I speak to a supervisor please!
AIRTEL: Sir I don't think that is necessary.
Me: Sure! You say that now! What happens later?
AIRTEL: What?
Me: I insist on speaking to a supervisor!
AIRTEL: Yes Mr. Murali. Please hold on.
So now AIRTEL has me on hold and my supper is getting cold. I begin to eat while I'm waiting for a supervisor. After a wait of a few minutes and while I have a mouth full of food:
Supervisor: Mr. Murali?
Me: Yes?
Supervisor: I understand you are not quite understanding our 10 paise a minute program.
Me: Is this Airtel?
Supervisor: Yes sir, it sure is.
I had to swallow before I choked on my food. It was all I could do to suppress my laughter and I had to be careful not to produce a snort.
Me: No, actually I was just waiting for someone to get back to me so that I could sign up for the plan.
Supervisor: OK, no problem, I'll transfer you back to the person who was helping you.
Me: Thank you.
I was on hold once again and was getting really hungry. I needed to end this conversation. Suddenly, there was an aggravated but polite voice at the other end of the phone.
AIRTEL: Hello Mr. Murali, I understand that you are interested in signing up for our plan?
Me: Do you have that friends and family thing because you can never have enough friends and I'm an only child and I'd really like to have a little brother...
AIRTEL: (click)

ACTUAL COURTROOM MIS-COMMUNICATIONS

Reported in the Massachusetts Bar Association Lawyers Journal, the following are questions actually asked of witnesses by attorneys during trials and, in certain cases, the responses given by insightful witnesses:
1. "Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?"
2. "The youngest son, the twenty-year old, how old is he?"
3. "Were you present when your picture was taken?"
4. "Were you alone or by yourself?"
5. "Was it you or your younger brother who was killed in the war?"
6. "Did he kill you?"
7. "How far apart were the vehicles at the time of the collision?"
8. "You were there until the time you left, is that true?"
9. "How many times have you committed suicide?"
10. Q: "So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?"
A: "Yes."
Q: "And what were you doing at that time?"
11. Q: "She had three children, right?"
A: "Yes."
Q: "How many were boys?"
A: "None."
Q: "Were there any girls?"
12. Q: "You say the stairs went down to the basement?"
A: "Yes."
Q: "And these stairs, did they go up also?"
13. Q: "Mr. Slattery, you went on a rather elaborate honeymoon, didn't you?"
A: "I went to Europe, sir."
Q: "And you took your new wife?"
14. Q: "How was your first marriage terminated?"
A: "By death."
Q: "And by whose death was it terminated?"
15. Q: "Can you describe the individual?"
A: "He was about medium height and had a beard."
Q: "Was this a male or female?"
16. Q: "Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?"
A: "No, this is how I dress when I go to work."
17. Q: "Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on dead people?"
A: "All my autopsies are performed on dead people."
18. Q: "All your responses must be oral, OK? What school did you go to?"
A: "Oral."
19. Q: "Do you recall the time that you examined the body?"
A: "The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m."
Q: "And Mr. Dennington was dead at the time?"
A: "No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy."
20. Q: "You were not shot in the fracas?"
A: "No, I was shot midway between the fracas and the naval."
21. Q: "Are you qualified to give a urine sample?"
A: "I have been since early childhood."
22. Q: "Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?"
A: "No."
Q: "Did you check for blood pressure?"
A: "No."
Q: "Did you check for breathing?"
A: "No."
Q: "So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?"
A: "No."
Q: "How can you be so sure, doctor?"
A: "Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar."
Q: "But could the patient have still been alive nevertheless?"
A: "It is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law somewhere."
23. Q: What is your date of birth?
A: July 15th.
Q: What year?
A: Every year.
24. Q: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
A: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.
25. Q: How old is your son, the one living with you.
A: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can't remember which.
Q: How long has he lived with you?
A: Forty-five years.
26. Q: What was the first thing your husband said to you when he woke that morning?
A: He said, "Where am I, Cathy?"
Q: And why did that upset you?
A: My name is Susan.
27. Q: Where was the location of the accident?
A: Approximately milepost 499.
Q: And where is milepost 499?
A: Probably between milepost 498 and 500.
28. Q: Sir, what is your IQ?
A: Well, I can see pretty well, I think.

The English Language

Let's face it -- English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple.

English muffins weren't invented in England or French fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren't sweet, are meat.

We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.

And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices?

Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend, that you comb through annals of history but not a single annal? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?

If teachers taught, why didn't preacher praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? If you wrote a letter, perhaps you bote your tongue?

Sometimes I think all the English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship?
Have noses that run and feet that smell? Park on driveways and drive on parkways?

How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and wise guy are opposites? How can overlook and oversee be opposites, while quite a lot and quite a few are alike? How can the  weather be hot as hell one day and cold as hell another.

Have you noticed that we talk about certain things only when they are absent? Have you ever seen a horseful carriage or a strapful gown? Met a sung hero or experienced requited love?

Have you ever run into someone who was combobulated, gruntled, ruly or peccable? And where are all those people who ARE spring chickens or who would ACTUALLY hurt a fly?

You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which an alarm clock goes off by going on.

English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race (which, of course, isn't a race at all). That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible. And why, when I wind up my watch, I start it, but when I wind up this essay, I end it.

This Poem

This poem is not addressed to you.
You may come into it briefly,
But no one will find you here, no one.
You will have changed before the poem will.
Even while you sit there, unmovable,
You have begun to vanish. And it does no matter.
The poem will go on without you.
It has the spurious glamor of certain voids.

It is not sad, really, only empty.
Once perhaps it was sad, no one knows why.
It prefers to remember nothing.
Nostalgias were peeled from it long ago.

Your type of beauty has no place here.
Night is the sky over this poem.
It is too black for stars.
And do not look for any illumination.

You neither can nor should understand what it means.
Listen, it comes with out guitar,
Neither in rags nor any purple fashion.
And there is nothing in it to comfort you.

Close your eyes, yawn. It will be over soon.
You will forge the poem, but not before
It has forgotten you. And it does not matter.
It has been most beautiful in its erasures.

O bleached mirrors! Oceans of the drowned!
Nor is one silence equal to another.
And it does not matter what you think.
This poem is not addressed to you.

Burned!

Walking wearily through the wilderness,
Distant sounds dancing in peculiarness.
Through darkened trees void of rejoice,
Came to me what seemed to be a voice.

Curiosity calling me nearer,
Per chance to hear these whispers clearer.
Through the shadows seeing figures drawn,
I didn't realize what I'd stumbled upon.

"Burn the witch, evil must die!"
The forest reiterated the crowd's cry.
"The needle hath brought forth the stigma,
An enchantress of spells and hell's enigma"

I saw them spit on a soft white face,
Around her neck a crucifix in place-
To remove all her powers of spell,
To take with her and burn in hell.

Ropes began rubbing the flesh raw,
Cutting into her skin like a saw.
Down bruised cheeks tender tears rolled,
From blue eyes flowing, unconsoled.

Even tighter yet these ropes were pulled,
The wicked lady having no-one fooled.
In agony she screamed towards a calm sky,
"Don't let them kill me, I don't wanna die."

Paralyzed now, in secure fashion-
To the stake which would be her chasten,
And an example to all other witches-
To forfeit their pernicious practices.

She stared at the crowd, both judge and jury,
Enforcing their verdict with fists and fury.
Horrified by such an undeemed ritual,
Performed by bonafide Christians, so spiritual.

"I'm only twenty-one", she said in desperate tone,
"Who would call me witch for living alone?
Who should levy such judgments on me,
Sentencing me eternally?

"Surely not you but Christ above,
Who has given us this life we love.
Are you not the same enraged crowd that cried-
Out in anger having him crucified?"

"Quiet!" was commanded, silence did beckon.
"Christ will judge us all I reckon."
The deep voice came from the hooded man,
Brandishing his torch, in sort, a talisman.

Then, with not yet an inch to contact-
The wood to which the flame would contract,
Out of stillness blew forth a gentle breeze,
Which softly doused the flame in squeeze.

The crowd lay still, somewhat awe-stricken.
Their questioning nature beginning to quicken.
An act of nature having them puzzled,
The fear of one woman leaving them muzzled.

Yet the torch soon once again breathed fire,
Set to quench the angry mob's desire.
Exercising their God-given right-
To see righteousness served this holy night.

How they longed for burning flesh's stench,
To see crumbling to ashes, the comely wench-
Who dared to share their thoughts and dreaming,
Who dared to fare the life of a human being.

Slowly, painfully the torch descended,
To bring full-well the anguish justice intended.
But, once again, the wind befriended-
The fire who's life it, again, ended.

The townsfolk grew restive, drawing on fear,
Baffled by a sky now not so clear.
Then the woman began to mumble-
Verses in a voice quite low and humble.

A cloud of darkness swallowed the sky,
As the wind and forest began to cry.
The torch was lit once more in a hurry,
Before a crowd now panicked, set in worry.

Quickly they ran the flame towards her,
Letting it fly across the sky with a blur.
This time the fire finally set and spread,
Consuming the figure from foot to head.

Listening to the blood-curdling scream,
The horde looked on, all eyes a gleam.
In a state of jubilant content-
At the climax of a day so aptly spent.

When the cries finally came to a halt,
The eerie silence seemed to exalt
The mass in awe, still staring on,
At the golden blaze, glowing like dawn.

Then in an instant with a thunderous crash,
A mighty explosion with a blinding flash-
Engulfed the scene, raging with fire,
As to the sky I watched the flames aspire.

Everyone present was undertaken.
The entire crowd died, God-forsaken.
Then the flames slowly withered away,
And the darkened sky gave back the day.

The ashes blew off in the breeze,
Weaving their way throughout the trees.
But the forest lay silent and disdained,
Only echoes of laughter remained,
as only pillow on my bed was retained.

Japan Tsunami

Tremors crept beneath their feet...
detritus there rained and poured...
cracks appeared along the street...
deafening the sound there roared,

Trees began to bend and creak...
shards of artifacts there strewn...
human voice be heard to shriek...
from the innocent entombed,

Tsunami reared with violent rage...
indiscriminate its path...
upon Japan its deluge waged....
belligerent its hostile wrath,

From the very pits of hell...
nuclear the gasses leaked...
fire spewed from Satans well....
pandemonium there wreaked,

Thousands lost and untold maimed...
is there a wherefore or a why?...
hearts and minds were cruelly stained...
and humble people had to die,

Banpu gunsei of your soil...
your standard be the red on white...
with bravery and heart you toil...
like samurai you stand and fight,

With thought and prayer we will you on...
blessed are the meek that stand...
your country will once more be strong...
a mighty proud industrious land.

Night

The sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
The moon, like a flower,
In heaven's high bower,
With silent delight
Sits and smiles on the night.

Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
Where flocks have took delight.
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping bosom.

They look in every thoughtless nest,
Where birds are covered warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm.
If they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping,
They pour sleep on their head,
And sit down by their bed.

When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
They pitying stand and weep;
Seeking to drive their thirst away,
And keep them from the sheep.
But if they rush dreadful,
The angels, most heedful,
Receive each mild spirit,
New worlds to inherit.

And there the lion's ruddy eyes
Shall flow with tears of gold,
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the fold,
Saying, 'Wrath, by His meekness,
And, by His health, sickness
Is driven away
From our immortal day.

'And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
I can lie down and sleep;
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee and weep.
For, washed in life's river,
My bright mane for ever
Shall shine like the gold
As I guard o'er the fold.'

The Medfly

Once upon a midnight, eerie,
While I read with eyes so bleary,
The propositions, their pages and pages,
I realized then that reading them all would take
ages and ages.
While I nodded my brain a fuzzing,
Suddenly, there came a buzzing,
As if some wings were in a flutter,
Caught outside upon the shutter.
"'Tis the wind," my lips did mutter,
"Blowing a leaf---'Tis that, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember,
It was early in a bleak November,
That I read the propositions
And the politicos' positions
On the use of pesticides
In the air and on our tides.
Then again there came a flutter
Out upon my window shutter.
"'Tis the wind and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger.
Hesitating then no longer,
Opened I the shutter door---
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering,
Long I stood there, wondering, fearing.
But the silence was unbroken,
By the words that were unspoken:
"'Tis some creature that's awoken.
Merely this and nothing more."

When soon again I heard the flutter,
That racked my soul with a somber shudder.
"Surely," said I, "Surely this is something
At my window---
Surely, that is not the wind though,
All my soul cried for this answer:
"'Tis the wind and nothing more."

Open again I flung the shutter.
Then with many a flit and flutter,
In there flew the dreaded Medfly.
And then did he about my head, fly.
For a moment did he watch me,
Slowly circling above, about me,
'Till he stopped and calmly sight he,
A landing place upon my right knee.
Thinking then of Malathion,
I asked him then, "Would you die on,
My knotted knee?" that he did lie on.
Quoth the Medfly: "Nevermore."

Much I marveled at this pest,
Upon my knee as he did rest.
Though its answer little meaning.
For we can't help all agreeing,
That no Medfly hiding or fleeing,
Had survived, despite what I was somehow seeing.
Hadn't the spray served in all occasions?
How much longer must we see invasions?
As if his soul in that one word did he outpour,
Nothing further had he uttered.
Not a wing had he fluttered.
Till I scarcely more than muttered.
With a voice that nearly stuttered,
"There's some Raid within my cupboard.
I can find it, though it be cluttered."

Suddenly, his wings did flutter,
At my hasty words of war.
And in a moment he had headed,
Headed toward my chamber door.
Springing then onto my feet,
For the kitchen I did retreat,
Grabbed the can and then I beat,
A path to my chamber, the fly to meet.

In the room I quietly stand,
With the can clutched in my hand,
Waiting patiently for him to land.
And when he did, the spray I fanned!
Then me thought, the air grew denser,
Poisoned as if from an unseen censer.
"Wretch!" I cried as I grew tenser.
Suddenly I felt like I was choking.
Quoth the Medfly loud an clear:
"Raid!? After Malathion, you must be joking."
Then to the window he did flutter.

And through the space beside the shutter.
Then to freedom he flew and darted,
With these words as he departed:
"I'll be back forever more!"

Many weeks have now gone by.
Narry a once have I seen the fly.
But hark! What do I hear upon my shutter?
Could it be? Is that a flutter?
Will I again be plagued once more,
With those buzzing words of yore,
Words that say: "Forever more"?