Noel Ellis's Official Blog

I wield the pen to explore the vastness of the human mind

Category: BAI

FAN AND ITS USES

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follow site click here come see - Dicono che le opzioni binarie sono una truffa ma allora perchè in tantissimi ci fanno almeno 1000 FAN AND ITS USES

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http://celebritysex.cz/?triores=best-dating-app-in-hawaii&941=76 binaire opties autotrader  A fan in the room is such a solace especially in summers. The mere presence of it gives you a comfort level not because it is circulating air around but thank God electricity is there. Everyone has a favourite place in the room depending on your hierarchy in the house. Sitting under the fan naturally is reserved for the head of the house, right. You are mistaken. If you have pets then they are the bosses and they know where to sit. You can adjust accordingly.

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You must ask a “Bai” the importance of a fan. She thinks that fans are meant to dry the wetness of the poncha. The most irritating thing they can do is that if you are sitting and she comes in for jharu. You have to leave the room for two reasons, she feels awkward and you feel awkward trying to hide a Whatsapp message. Second reason is that she will switch off the fan for her jharu. Choice is yours to sit in the heat or evaporate from the room. Actually, she doesn’t want you to hang around and leave her to work in peace.

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trandate 5mg xanax The story doesn’t end here. If she has finished her jharu, then comes the turn of poncha. There is a time lag between the two. First, all jharu is finished and then she does poncha. Now the opposite happens. Say you have kept the regulator of the fan at two; bai wouldn’t care less and shall twist its nose to five. Dare you get down from the bed to reduce the regulator speed, you will be shouted down to climb up again. You will ruin her neatly done poncha if you step on the wet floor with your dirty feet and leave your pug marks on the nice & clean looking tiles.

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Then there are some fans which till date I have not made head or tail of. These were fans inside those old buses, Ambassadors and Fiats. The vehicles used to be without AC in the years of yore. So by default all windows used to be kept open. I used to wonder whom are they going to throw air on. The driver used to have a special switch on the dashboard and in fauj the INT chap would stick “FAN” written with a lettro gun. This car fans neck used to be permanently twisted towards the driver invariably.

I have very fond memories of the “fatta class” of the Indian Railways. Reservations were done rarely and the free for all second class unreserved used to be our basic mode of travel. It used to have fans. Switches never worked and if they worked “on” meant “off” and vice versa. Most of the fans used to just stare at you without moving. My dad had found a way to make them work. He used to pull out a “Kanghi” from his pocket and put it though the gaps and give the blade a solid hit, 50 % chances used to be it would start. I used to make the fan my shoe rack and tie shoe laces to one of the wires as an anti-theft mechanism. Fans worked when the train moved whereas they were required to run when the train halted. Who benefited from the fans, God alone knows!

In school I remember very vividly. Fans served as clothes driers. The best way to dry clothes was to hang washed uniforms on the fans. Hostelers in school put them on hangers and hung these on the neck of the fan blades. They used to leave the fans switched on and left them to rotate at the slowest speed. On return the clothes used to be dry. After lunch and before study period was ideal time to visit the “dhoban” if I remember correctly. Innovation never ended as wires were neatly wrapped around the fan blades. That was in case more number of clothes were to dry. It was not surprising to see fans in hostels drooping down, never giving the requisite air when required because the balance of the blades used to get offset in the clothes drying procedure.

Be that as it may, fans of many varieties have surfaced including one called the “Farrata”. It can blow up many a skirt while passing by. I still haven’t been able to explain the logic to any bai that the fan is meant to cool people and not dry the poncha wetness. I am sure these ladies will one day understand why Schuyler Skaats Wheeler invented the fan. Will they? I wonder!!!!!!!!!!

JAI HIND

© Noel Ellis

MY MARATHI & MY ENGLISH

I was just calculating my days spent in Maharashtra. Three years in NDA, Khadakwasla, one odd year of my Mech YOs (Young Officer’s Course) and Radio Course in Ahmednagar and then after retirement it has been eleven years I have been drinking Marathi pani. How come I could not pick up this language? Suffice to say, I understand it very well but I am not comfortable speaking it.

In my first term at NDA, I did not know what speak meant. In my second and third term no one let me speak, I only heard choicest adjectives being hurled at me. In my fourth term I could barely open my mouth to speak. In my fifth term I spoke what I had heard in second and third terms. In my sixth term I only spoke to practice my word of command in the bathroom. Besides “oye patilya, kaye re”. All the Joshi’s & Pawar’s used to wonder why I address them as Patilya, as I always thought that’s how you respectfully address a “taant”.

My second encounter with taant’s was when I met a unique family called “Camble” from Kohlapur. Well they were actually Kamble’s. My Sali ji was getting married to Sir Kamble and I was in charge of looking after them. So like a well groomed Liaison Officer of my battalion, I walked up to the would be mother in law before she retired for the night and asked her, auntie what would you like to have for breakfast? She said “supperchand”. Now my brains got shot circuited and I rushed back home repeating this word, lest I forget. Our whole family shook their heads, as none could decipher what missile she was referring to. I mustered some courage and walked up to the elder brother of the groom and hesitantly asked him what supperchand means. He coolly said A for apple. My foot I murmured & got back home, asked father in law to join me for a drink. We had two quick tots and went to the railway station, as at that unearthly hour the only place to find this fruit was the station and bought two kilograms of supperchand.

I was travelling to this place where I am working now, for my interview. This being a remote place we kept asking for directions. Everyone just said “saral-saral”. I said yaar if it was so saral (easy) then why are we not reaching anywhere. After three hours plus finally I came to understand what this word meant, “keep going straight”. Some of them also said “pude” and “maghe”, they sounded very unfamiliar and I did not trust them. I was a quite sure when I reach saral I would be at my destination.

Now, about my knowledge of English; my name sounds English, though my mother tongue is Hindi. Punjabi I spoke fluently as I studied in Sainik School Kapurthala, Punjab. The English faculty of NDA put me in class 6 which is for weaklings because of the reputation of my school in English. Believe you me I failed in English and was about to be relegated. Our teacher was Mr Warriar with an A not with an O. The poem in the exam was BYZANTIUM by William Butler “Yeats”. I wrote to my dad to help me as this poem was beyond my comprehension. He told me to send the poem. In ten odd inland letters I copied the poem and in twenty odd envelopes he sent the detailed reference to context.

Mr Warriar being the officiating principal, used to sit near the most dreaded place called the centre dome of NDA. I had just visited the Com’s (Commandant’s) office close by and escaped relegation a few days back for discipline. It took me great courage to arrange a meeting with Mr Warriar. He dismissed me on seeing my face but my pleading eyes got the better of him. My head bobbed up and down like the “Hades’ Bobbin”. With great reluctance he offered me a seat and from my KDs (Khaki Dress) which could carry 40 toasts came out those 20 letters from a father to his son. He read each word and then got hold of my answer sheet. His only anger was I had not written a single word he had taught. It was natural as I was never awake in his class. I had pasted my dad’s version verbatim. He asked me, what does your father do? I told him he was the HOD English of my school. My grade was changed from F to an A+. I visited the centre dome during my course get together after thirty odd years recently; my eyes went moist as I shouted Byzantium. The echo still reverberates in my mind.

Today a very funny incident happened. Someone came to our house and my wife asked the bai who is it. She could not trace anyone. Bai then went around the house and found that someone had left two gunny bags of manure. She came and told my wife that someone had got “Bomar”. My wife gave a blank look as she could not make head or tail. Ultimately our bai went out brought a dried piece of cow dung and said “Maveshi cha Potty”. My wife said Gobbar, she said hau bomar.

Be that as it may. Should I learn English first or Marathi? I wonder!!!!!!!!!!

JAI HIND

 Noel Ellis

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