Beware of ducks!

When I died, little did I know I'd be transported to a celestial world where I'd be standing in line at a checkpost somewhat like immigration at international airports. But there I was amidst a celestial herd awaiting my turn to be admitted into what I presumed was heaven. Ahead of me in the queue were familiar SUCHers like Hellsbells, Hotdog, Tracy, Upps, Max, Kris, Halcy, Kinnu, Seva, Vakavaka, 7, the Cheese Man, the Reverse Smiler and a few others, including one that seemed like a toss up between Rashmun and Veeu. I was certainly in good company.

Across the iron fence were people who had already passed through immigration. The first one I recognized was none other than Nephew. But much to my chagrin, instead of the usual mirth and joviality he sported, there hung about him an air of inscrutable melancholy. My perplexity, however, vanished the moment I sighted the girl who was amorously holding him by the shoulder. To say she was ugly would be treading on euphemism. She had the kind of face pious Hindus place in front of their brand new homes to ward off the Evil Eye. How a handsome bloke such as he, a six-footer with six pack abs, landed such an eyesore of a damsel was beyond me.

"Nephew", I yelled.

"Unkil", he responded sounding hollow.

"Alli Yen Ayitu?" I asked.

"Thumba kasta kala. Kismat. But whatever you do, Unkil, please don't step on a duck!"

I winced. Yes, there sure were flocks of ducks quacking and milling about the joint. I paused. It was not my nature to go about stepping on innocent ducks as a rule but something in the manner he uttered those words of caution was enough for me to consider ducks the way a soldier would regard a minefield. Just then I heard another familiar voice from across the fence. It was unmistakably that of Props. I turned to look.

It is well known, at the least for a decade in the Coffee House circuit, how big a fancier Props was about sexy senoritas, gorgeous geishas, bosomy bimbos and what not. Seldom did one find him forlorn and fatigued. But there he was standing like a shadow of himself as if ready to sing "Yesterday" in a heart-rending burst of anguish. And tethered to him at the elbow was a massively ugly broad portraying the kind of face that could cause a thousand launched ships to hurry back to harbor. For a man who prided himself of picking the choiciest bun for his footlong sandwiches, this seemed incongruous. I was puzzled.

"Akkada EmAyyindi?" I asked in earnest.

"Ippudu cheppa ledhu. Adi nA poorva janma pApam. But there's one thing though ..." He hesitated.

"Props, don't hold anything back." I pleaded.

"See 'em feathery-ass fowls? Don't step on any of those fuckers!"

Albeit a tad off-color, I could feel the weight of poignancy in his outburst. As I carefully tiptoed my way through the line, staying clear off the loitering loons, I could hear the happy whistle of someone across the fenced perimeter, the tune of which reminded me of "Maanasa maine varu, madhuram nulli tharoo..." A catchy tune and an old love song typically heard in Madras Christian College bathrooms belted out by love-struck Syrian Christian boys. Now my curiosity was aroused. Who was the chap behind that merry whistle in the midst of such melancholy? I had an idea to ferret out the culprit from the crowd.

"Maanasa maine varu..." I began to sing.

"Ente pEru Mburuburu..." Out of the throng appeared a fiend in human shape wearing a deer-skin loincloth and a spear. Attached to him like glue was a most beautiful, curvacious, sexy, 18-year-old girl of olive complexion whose superb statuesqueness reminded me of some Greek goddess. It is not stretching the truth to say that my jaw dropped.

"What a surprise!" I exclaimed involuntarily.

"Did any northindian kick you in the teeth yet?" The masai warrior asked haughtily as he stroked the long, flowing hair of his prized possession.

"We'll get to it in a jiffy. First tell me how you managed to nab this specimen of teenagers' wet dreams?"

"Hahaha. Take 3 wild guesses. Then we shall see."

"Let me think. You charmed your way into her heart by killing a charging lion with your spear."

"FAIL"

"You caught her red-handed making a spelling mistake so she had to kiss you a hundred times for a hundred days."

"FAIL"

"She is blind as a bat."

"EPIC FAIL on all counts. You are one lousy guesser."

"Pray tell me the secret."

Mburuburu flashed a smile. "She stepped on a duck!"

　

[Embellished from an old joke I heard]

goodcitizn wrote:When I died, little did I know I'd be transported to a celestial world where I'd be standing in line at a checkpost somewhat like immigration at international airports. But there I was amidst a celestial herd awaiting my turn to be admitted into what I presumed was heaven. Ahead of me in the queue were familiar SUCHers like Hellsbells, Hotdog, Tracy, Upps, Max, Kris, Halcy, Kinnu, Seva, Vakavaka, 7, the Cheese Man, the Reverse Smiler and a few others, including one that seemed like a toss up between Rashmun and Veeu. I was certainly in good company.

Across the iron fence were people who had already passed through immigration. The first one I recognized was none other than Nephew. But much to my chagrin, instead of the usual mirth and joviality he sported, there hung about him an air of inscrutable melancholy. My perplexity, however, vanished the moment I sighted the girl who was amorously holding him by the shoulder. To say she was ugly would be treading on euphemism. She had the kind of face pious Hindus place in front of their brand new homes to ward off the Evil Eye. How a handsome bloke such as he, a six-footer with six pack abs, landed such an eyesore of a damsel was beyond me.

"Nephew", I yelled.

"Unkil", he responded sounding hollow.

"Alli Yen Ayitu?" I asked.

"Thumba kasta kala. Kismat. But whatever you do, Unkil, please don't step on a duck!"

I winced. Yes, there sure were flocks of ducks quacking and milling about the joint. I paused. It was not my nature to go about stepping on innocent ducks as a rule but something in the manner he uttered those words of caution was enough for me to consider ducks the way a soldier would regard a minefield. Just then I heard another familiar voice from across the fence. It was unmistakably that of Props. I turned to look.

It is well known, at the least for a decade in the Coffee House circuit, how big a fancier Props was about sexy senoritas, gorgeous geishas, bosomy bimbos and what not. Seldom did one find him forlorn and fatigued. But there he was standing like a shadow of himself as if ready to sing "Yesterday" in a heart-rending burst of anguish. And tethered to him at the elbow was a massively ugly broad portraying the kind of face that could cause a thousand launched ships to hurry back to harbor. For a man who prided himself of picking the choiciest bun for his footlong sandwiches, this seemed incongruous. I was puzzled.

"Akkada EmAyyindi?" I asked in earnest.

"Ippudu cheppa ledhu. Adi nA poorva janma pApam. But there's one thing though ..." He hesitated.

"Props, don't hold anything back." I pleaded.

"See 'em feathery-ass fowls? Don't step on any of those fuckers!"

Albeit a tad off-color, I could feel the weight of poignancy in his outburst. As I carefully tiptoed my way through the line, staying clear off the loitering loons, I could hear the happy whistle of someone across the fenced perimeter, the tune of which reminded me of "Maanasa maine varu, madhuram nulli tharoo..." A catchy tune and an old love song typically heard in Madras Christian College bathrooms belted out by love-struck Syrian Christian boys. Now my curiosity was aroused. Who was the chap behind that merry whistle in the midst of such melancholy? I had an idea to ferret out the culprit from the crowd.

"Maanasa maine varu..." I began to sing.

"Ente pEru Mburuburu..." Out of the throng appeared a fiend in human shape wearing a deer-skin loincloth and a spear. Attached to him like glue was a most beautiful, curvacious, sexy, 18-year-old girl of olive complexion whose superb statuesqueness reminded me of some Greek goddess. It is not stretching the truth to say that my jaw dropped.

"What a surprise!" I exclaimed involuntarily.

"Did any northindian kick you in the teeth yet?" The masai warrior asked haughtily as he stroked the long, flowing hair of his prized possession.

"We'll get to it in a jiffy. First tell me how you managed to nab this specimen of teenagers' wet dreams?"

"Hahaha. Take 3 wild guesses. Then we shall see."

"Let me think. You charmed your way into her heart by killing a charging lion with your spear."

"FAIL"

"You caught her red-handed making a spelling mistake so she had to kiss you a hundred times for a hundred days."

"FAIL"

"She is blind as a bat."

"EPIC FAIL on all counts. You are one lousy guesser."

"Pray tell me the secret."

Mburuburu flashed a smile. "She stepped on a duck!"

　

[Embellished from an old joke I heard]

>>>>Hahaha. Is the old joke the one about Brigitte Bardot and Khruschev in hell?

your post made me want to listen to 'maanasa maine' - had no idea that manna dey sang this.

goodcitizn wrote:When I died, little did I know I'd be transported to a celestial world where I'd be standing in line at a checkpost somewhat like immigration at international airports. But there I was amidst a celestial herd awaiting my turn to be admitted into what I presumed was heaven. Ahead of me in the queue were familiar SUCHers like Hellsbells, Hotdog, Tracy, Upps, Max, Kris, Halcy, Kinnu, Seva, Vakavaka, 7, the Cheese Man, the Reverse Smiler and a few others, including one that seemed like a toss up between Rashmun and Veeu. I was certainly in good company.

So all of us are going to heaven en masse! I guess heaven won't be any different than Such. That doesn't seem like a place to look forward to. sigh!

bw wrote:your post made me want to listen to 'maanasa maine' - had no idea that manna dey sang this.

Unbelievably it is the only Malayalam song that Manna Dey sang in his illustrious career. He was chosen over Yesudas by the music director because of the sad tone in his voice (Kadalinakkare being sung by Yesudas in the same movie). Hariharan sang the Hindi version but Manna Dey sounds far better.

The first two lines of Manasa maine are similar to Or Ayiram Parvayile song from Vallavanukku Vallavan which preceded Chemmeen by a few years.

Kinnera wrote:

goodcitizn wrote:When I died, little did I know I'd be transported to a celestial world where I'd be standing in line at a checkpost somewhat like immigration at international airports. But there I was amidst a celestial herd awaiting my turn to be admitted into what I presumed was heaven. Ahead of me in the queue were familiar SUCHers like Hellsbells, Hotdog, Tracy, Upps, Max, Kris, Halcy, Kinnu, Seva, Vakavaka, 7, the Cheese Man, the Reverse Smiler and a few others, including one that seemed like a toss up between Rashmun and Veeu. I was certainly in good company.

So all of us are going to heaven en masse! I guess heaven won't be any different than Such. That doesn't seem like a place to look forward to. sigh!

Not all are going to heaven. Only the three from SUCH made it past immigration!

Bwahaha...Good one, Unkil!

hahaha....punishment for girls must be that much more severe than for men

goodcitizn wrote:

bw wrote:your post made me want to listen to 'maanasa maine' - had no idea that manna dey sang this.

Unbelievably it is the only Malayalam song that Manna Dey sang in his illustrious career. He was chosen over Yesudas by the music director because of the sad tone in his voice (Kadalinakkare being sung by Yesudas in the same movie). Hariharan sang the Hindi version but Manna Dey sounds far better.

The first two lines of Manasa maine are similar to Or Ayiram Parvayile song from Vallavanukku Vallavan which preceded Chemmeen by a few years.

மாசயஂ-ஐ தவிரஂதஂதிருக்கலாமோ?
sounds nice in Hindi version as well  staring at 1:33

the thamizh one, again starting at 1:33

garam_kuta wrote:
மாசயஂ-ஐ தவிரஂதஂதிருக்கலாமோ?

தலைவா, எப்படி இருக்கீங்க?
ஒங்கள பாத்து ரொம்ப நாள் ஆய்டுச்சி.

garam_kuta wrote:
மாசயஂ-ஐ தவிரஂதஂதிருக்கலாமோ?
sounds nice in Hindi version as well  staring at 1:33

the thamizh one, again starting at 1:33

That Hindi movie came out in 1963 the song of which is an exact copy of the Tamil song (music by Deva) from Vallavanukku Vallavan released in 1960.

[quote="goodcitizn"]

garam_kuta wrote:
மாசயஂ-ஐ தவிரஂதஂதிருக்கலாமோ?
sounds nice in Hindi version as well  staring at 1:33
the thamizh one, again starting at 1:33
That Hindi movie came out in 1963 the song of which is an exact copy of the Tamil song (music by Deva) from Vallavanukku Vallavan released in 1960.

1963 Hindi OK but the thamizh one, IMDb etc., say released in 1965... and Veda is well known to lift from other languages- nevertheless, a master at that, I have to say. I thoroughly enjoy his versions.
for eg:from Ventures to athey kaNgaL

athey KaNgaL

G-K, you are right. Also, the music director apparently was MSV not Deva.

goodcitizn wrote:G-K, you are right. Also, the music director apparently was MSV not Deva.

Of course, he is. the only smart person in that team. the rest of team is made up of some vey sharp minds, such as seven/BK/Saamiyaar/Kinnera. once i get past him, that team will have no chance.