The Wikly Updet

HIGH DRAMA AS BULLS RUN RAMPAGE ON THE LAL STREET

Bumboo Bajaar, 27^th Distemper

Red Street (commonly called The Lal Street), a famous lane in the bustling Bumboo Bajaar, where the continent’s leading stick brokers meet to exchange blows, was in a tizzy this morning as thirteen well-built bulls, armed with sharp horns, ran amok in the stick market, causing even the stocky brokers to run for cover. Passersby were treated to an unexpected filmy style chase as the brokers, sticks held high above their heads and chanting “danda ooncha rahe hamara” ran like men possessed, followed by the incensed bulls keen on dispossessing them. The bull run continued till late in the evening and ended only when the market’s top hoarder put up a hoarding on top of the street reading “SILENT ZONE – SHARP HORNS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN” and then followed it up by announcing the same over a loudspeaker.

The sher index, which is an indicator of the level of bravery, measured on the Rictus scale, plummeted badly and, when last seen, appeared to be headed Down Under.

Agitated members, many of them nursing bruised limbs and broken egos, called a press conference and announced the formation of a thirteen member committee headed by a retired matador (thirteen seater diesel version) to conduct a thorough investigation into the whole episode.

Defiance

This photograph is one of my personal favourites.

It was taken sometime during the late seventies with my father's Sunflex twin lens reflex camera loaded with 100 ASA black-and-white film. This print was made many years later, on sepia toned paper.

This tree was growing outside my father's bungalow in Deogiri and was a familiar sight when we went there for our summer holidays. One summer, I saw the tree all dried up and seemingly dead. But it refused to go and instead stood there all through my month long sojourn, defiantly braving the elements.

Standing in the garden and looking at it thru the lens of the camera, the barbed wire fence in the foreground somehow seemed to fit quite well into the composition.

I would like to believe that the tree is still standing there, defiant as ever!

A MATTER OF TRUST

In our city was a great assembly
Mess and chaos as we can see
There was a leader and his flock
All he did was pray and talk
Came a time his flock dispersed
In disarray, his bubble burst
He sent his point man, the prospector
To go and herd them back together
Then the elder wise man set a test
To face the rest and come out best
The test was held but the doubts weren’t quelled
The citizens’ misgivings weren’t dispelled
They were angry and they were sad
They realized that they’d been had
But there was more; it came to be known
That the leader had favoured his own
He was told to step down and leave the field
But he stood his ground and refused to yield
The naatak’s not over, not by a long way
There’s many an act and a scene still to play

pen sketch

Ulsoor Lake, circa 1975

Sidharth's "Mythical Cow" revisited

Another attempt at sketching.

Old soldiers never die...

Old soldiers never die…

Old photographs never die, they just fade away

Old clocks never die; they just call time out

Old wristwatches never die, they just wind up

Old watches never die; they just while away their time

Old (k)nights never die; they just call it a day

Old computers never die; they just log off

Old sodas never die; they just pop off

Old fountain pens never die; they just run out of ink

Old gamblers never die; they just run out of luck

Old inks never die; they just fade out

Old shopkeepers never die; they just shut shop

Old paratroopers never die; they just drop off

Old cowboys never die; they just ride away into the sunset

Old batteries never die, they just drain out

Old electric lights never die, they just blow out their fuses

Old honey bees never die, they just buzz off

Old actors never die, they just pack up

Old Shakespeareans never die, they just exeunt

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Old Soldiers Never Die

“Old Soldiers Never Die” sung by Vaughn Monroe & His Orchestra (1951)

Old soldiers never die
They just fade away.

There is an old mess hall, not far away
Where we get pork and beans, three times a day.
Ham and eggs we never see, even when we're on KP
And we are gradually fading away.

Chorus: Old soldiers never die,
Never die, never die,
Old soldiers never die
They just fade away.

Privates they love their beer, three times a day.
Corporals, they love their stripes, and that ain't hay
Sergeants put you through the mill.

They just drill and drill and drill,

And they will drill until they fade away.

Chorus

Young soldiers shine their shoes three time a day
Young soldiers go on leave; they know the way
Young soldiers say goodbye, kiss the girls and make them cry
Then the girls all wonder why they fade away

Chorus

Washington, Grant and Lee were all tried and true
Eisenhower, Bradley and MacArthur too
They will live forever more, till the world is done with war
Then they'll close that final door, fading away

Chorus

Note: This song achieved instant recognition when Douglas MacArthur quoted it in his farewell speech.
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