Everything finally fit like a condom
By Sishir K. Rana
Either Mars or some planet must be retrograde or my archenemy must be chanting voodoo and mixing lizard feet and monkey brains in his cauldron. The past couple of weeks have indeed been a series of unfortunate events.
First it was my motorcycle. I should have taken it for servicing the first time it didn't start. I had to take a cab back home that night. As we all know, there is no night life in Kathmandu, and I mean that literally. Traffic dies just after 8 pm, i.e., the public transport (the minis, micros and mini-micros) snooze off early, except for a couple of cabs with meters that run as fast as the cabs themselves on empty streets. Since I get off from work at 8 pm, it was at least Rs 150 for the fare way home.
That was about two weeks ago. Next day, I came back to the office on time (mind you, not earlier), took the bike to a workshop and had it fixed. Turned out, the spark plug was clogged with dirt. Well, I'm not surprised. The last thing you'd see me is with a sponge and a bucket of foam.
The bike was good and running, not until a week ago. First the cursing, then the cussing, and then an expensive ride home. Next day, it was the same routine. The spark plug needed to be cleaned. Doink! Who woulda thunk that?
Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me. On that note, I took the bike to Jamal for servicing. But, alas, I was late by three whole hours. Procrastinator that I am, I thought, like always, "Maybe, umm..., next week."
Well, I guess the Lord above still wanted to teach me a lesson. The bike broke down again three days ago. I guess third time's a charm. So, I came back to the office early next morning—even before the early bird managed to make a shrill chirp—and took the bike for servicing.
Well, the series of unfortunate events didn't end there. Yesterday the bike started, but rattled crazy. Had to take to a workshop and have the chain tightened.
The biggest bomber was when we didn't get tickets for King Kong. Damn all the tickets, except for a few rows up in the front, were sold out. Even on a Monday afternoon. Zees! It took approximately 15 min for reality to hit me and my two other friends. Damn! We had been so anticipating watching the movie, like, for the past two weeks. And Monday's my only day off. Evening show was of the question (not being the night crawlers), we went to good ol' New road.
As we were about to step into our favorite Almond Restaurant, my variety loving mouth suggested Jeans. So we went there. The cafe took us completely by surprise. Not just the decor, which by the way looks like one of those sets of one of those Hindi tele-flicks, but the prices. And we all thought we would fill our I-am-so-hungry-that-I-could-eat-a-horse appetite with a 120 rupees pizza. It had the thinnest crust ever. It was like some grated cheese and a couple of thin capsicum rings topped over a naan.
P.s.: One of our friend's a vegetarian. And, pssst: I still don't understand vegetarians.
Anyways, the pizza and parathas only served to whet our appetite. No way was we to make further orders.
As expected of Space Time, all the cable channels were gone except for NTV Metro. Who watches NTV Metro? I decided to watch past episodes of Sex and the City. Alas, the DVD was not working. Tired of being surly, I hit the sack early that night after reading a bit of Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath.
I woke up next morning in not so bright mood as usual. Had to go to the Transportation Office to get my Blue Book renewed and pay my dad's mobile phone bill.
Actually half the work was already done, or rather half the work didn't get done the other week at the Transportation Office. Well, you all know how Nepali Government offices are like, right? Went there and got the bill paid. Was then directed to room no. 10, and not in the least genial manner if I might add. By the time I found room 10, it was already 2 pm. The office window with Room 10 written with a ball pen on a piece of paper stared back at me sardonically.
Today, however, I went straight to Room 10. Got the blue book signed. I was then directed to other unnumbered room. I followed my instincts, asked a dozen people, and came upon a part of a hallway where there was a man with stamps. Got it stamped and whizzed to Nepal Telecom at Jawalakhel. The line was unbelievable, five of them in total—zigzag, serpentine and banana-shaped. Took quite a while to figure out where the queue started and where it ended. Anyways, like a true Nepali who has previously undergone innumerable bewildering experiences at government offices, I made it through.
I was surprised how things got done so efficiently. Maybe Mars or some other planet must have gone direct.
Back at my office, I looked up my weekly horoscope (in my free time of course). It said, "But this is only temporary - things should be back on track within a day or so."
In my own words, I'd like to say, "Today, everything finally fit like a condom."
******************************
"Thanx to Sishir for providing us such good and humorous article. He has promised us with good articles in future course also. You can also read his write-ups at www.offthebeat.blogspot.com."
First it was my motorcycle. I should have taken it for servicing the first time it didn't start. I had to take a cab back home that night. As we all know, there is no night life in Kathmandu, and I mean that literally. Traffic dies just after 8 pm, i.e., the public transport (the minis, micros and mini-micros) snooze off early, except for a couple of cabs with meters that run as fast as the cabs themselves on empty streets. Since I get off from work at 8 pm, it was at least Rs 150 for the fare way home.
That was about two weeks ago. Next day, I came back to the office on time (mind you, not earlier), took the bike to a workshop and had it fixed. Turned out, the spark plug was clogged with dirt. Well, I'm not surprised. The last thing you'd see me is with a sponge and a bucket of foam.
The bike was good and running, not until a week ago. First the cursing, then the cussing, and then an expensive ride home. Next day, it was the same routine. The spark plug needed to be cleaned. Doink! Who woulda thunk that?
Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me. On that note, I took the bike to Jamal for servicing. But, alas, I was late by three whole hours. Procrastinator that I am, I thought, like always, "Maybe, umm..., next week."
Well, I guess the Lord above still wanted to teach me a lesson. The bike broke down again three days ago. I guess third time's a charm. So, I came back to the office early next morning—even before the early bird managed to make a shrill chirp—and took the bike for servicing.
Well, the series of unfortunate events didn't end there. Yesterday the bike started, but rattled crazy. Had to take to a workshop and have the chain tightened.
The biggest bomber was when we didn't get tickets for King Kong. Damn all the tickets, except for a few rows up in the front, were sold out. Even on a Monday afternoon. Zees! It took approximately 15 min for reality to hit me and my two other friends. Damn! We had been so anticipating watching the movie, like, for the past two weeks. And Monday's my only day off. Evening show was of the question (not being the night crawlers), we went to good ol' New road.
As we were about to step into our favorite Almond Restaurant, my variety loving mouth suggested Jeans. So we went there. The cafe took us completely by surprise. Not just the decor, which by the way looks like one of those sets of one of those Hindi tele-flicks, but the prices. And we all thought we would fill our I-am-so-hungry-that-I-could-eat-a-horse appetite with a 120 rupees pizza. It had the thinnest crust ever. It was like some grated cheese and a couple of thin capsicum rings topped over a naan.
P.s.: One of our friend's a vegetarian. And, pssst: I still don't understand vegetarians.
Anyways, the pizza and parathas only served to whet our appetite. No way was we to make further orders.
As expected of Space Time, all the cable channels were gone except for NTV Metro. Who watches NTV Metro? I decided to watch past episodes of Sex and the City. Alas, the DVD was not working. Tired of being surly, I hit the sack early that night after reading a bit of Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath.
I woke up next morning in not so bright mood as usual. Had to go to the Transportation Office to get my Blue Book renewed and pay my dad's mobile phone bill.
Actually half the work was already done, or rather half the work didn't get done the other week at the Transportation Office. Well, you all know how Nepali Government offices are like, right? Went there and got the bill paid. Was then directed to room no. 10, and not in the least genial manner if I might add. By the time I found room 10, it was already 2 pm. The office window with Room 10 written with a ball pen on a piece of paper stared back at me sardonically.
Today, however, I went straight to Room 10. Got the blue book signed. I was then directed to other unnumbered room. I followed my instincts, asked a dozen people, and came upon a part of a hallway where there was a man with stamps. Got it stamped and whizzed to Nepal Telecom at Jawalakhel. The line was unbelievable, five of them in total—zigzag, serpentine and banana-shaped. Took quite a while to figure out where the queue started and where it ended. Anyways, like a true Nepali who has previously undergone innumerable bewildering experiences at government offices, I made it through.
I was surprised how things got done so efficiently. Maybe Mars or some other planet must have gone direct.
Back at my office, I looked up my weekly horoscope (in my free time of course). It said, "But this is only temporary - things should be back on track within a day or so."
In my own words, I'd like to say, "Today, everything finally fit like a condom."
******************************
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