Mean Little Kitty

Happy Good Friday!

K: Happy Good Friday, Tony
Me: What?
K: I said Happy Good Friday
Me: Dude, Good Friday is not Happy Good Friday
K: But it's good, right?
Me: Ya, Jesus saved us from sin so it was kinda good for the world. But he was crucified too, remember?
K: But you call it Good Friday. And confuse the heck out of people
Me: Well, it's good because Christians believe Jesus died for people's sins. And when we remember his death more than 2000 years ago, we are inspired to lead better, sin-free lives
K: But he still died. That's a sad thing, isn't it?
Me: Ya, but sometimes good stuff can come from sad things
K: So why isn't Good Friday happy too?
Me: Are you ever happy when people die? The fact that Jesus died is sad but then Christians believe that good came out of it. But people are happy on Easter, when Jesus rose from the dead
K: So you are saying I can wish you Happy Easter but not Happy Good Friday
Me: Exactly
K: Does it offend Christians if I wish them Happy Good Friday
Me: Not really. It sounds weird though. But I guess you took the trouble to remember it's an important day for us, so I should be happy
K: So you can be happy on Good Friday?
Me: Well, not really. I am fasting today and you are eating icecream. How can that make me happy?

(This post was first published on this blog on 'Good Friday' April 7, 2007)

India Blog Mela - March 2009

Ramesh Srivats is giving out the Bhaskars.

Mudra Mehta writes something for Gujjus.

Twisted DNA is having some sick fun.

eM has a quick guide to being fabulous even with a recession on.

Anjali is suffering from ...modesty.

Abodh remembers the strays he knew that passed away.

Neelakantan writes an open letter to Indian IT companies.

Great Bong reveals the new London of 2013 under Boro Didi.

Rituparna Bhowmik finds it hard being fat in an anorexic city.

Krish Ashok is explaining song lyrics with graphs.

That's all for now. The April 2009 Blog Mela returns early next month. But before leaving, do please vote for the best post in the March 2009 Blog Mela.



Did you just come across a quirky, interesting or something-that-tugs-at-your-heartstrings blog? If yes, feel free to nominate it for the April 2009 Blog Mela being hosted here on May 2.

How to Nominate
- Leave a comment on this post OR better still - Mail me at toeknee (at) gmail (dot) com


RULES
- Posts must have been written by Indians or have an Indian angle
- Only posts published between 1-30 April 2009 would be accepted
- If possible, please nominate individual posts, not the whole blog
- Feel free to nominate something you have written. Immodesty appreciated
- You can nominate as many blog posts as you like - provided you really like them
- Only nominations received before midnight on May 2 stand a chance to be featured in the Top 10 list
- No, you don't get any moolah for nominating or getting featured in the Blog Mela. That could change once I am a millionaire but for now you'll just have to bear with me
- Yours truly reserves the right to nominate good posts which you ignore

PREVIOUS BLOG MELAS
2007
March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December
2008
January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December
2009
January,February

My mom's a serial killer

Well, sort of. She doesn't really kill people. She kills mosquitos.

Each evening, armed with an electronic mosquito-killing racket, she goes from room to room swatting at any flying pest that dares to hover in the vicinity.

Her yellow battery-operated machine looks as mild as a badminton racket but is far more lethal -- several volts of electricity frying any wayward mosquito that dares to penetrate its wire mesh.

Am not really sure if my mom likes eliminating them this way. But there is this hint of a smile, almost a sense of achievement when she hits a Steffi Graf forehand, there's a spark and yet another mosquito bites the dust.

I like dogs and cats and don't really like mosquitos but even so, the sight of their carcasses stuck to the racket mesh gives me no special thrill.

I can't even watch television in peace. Mom swoops in, racket held high in her right hand, her eyes scanning the ceiling and walls for any sitting targets. She makes me get up from the couch so she can spot the enemy better -- and she does, there are always some nibbling away at my ankles.

Rest in peace, poor mosquito. Mom will not rest until she gets you, your children and your children's children all in one grave -- the kitchen dustbin.

"Aren't you scared?" I often ask her. "Think of all their souls in one place, plotting how they can avenge their deaths."

"They can send in reinforcements," says Mom. "I don't care."

And she doesn't. She's a professional killer, trained not to show any trace of emotion.

But I am still worried. What about the animal rights activists? Maneka Gandhi, please don't put my mom in prison. I promise I'll make her mend her ways.

Until then, I'll just put up a sign for all the mosquitos out there 'Don't come in here, please. My mom's gonna kill you'.