Evam performed its latest play, "Python Hysteria 2- The Sequel", this sunday. And it was a smash hit. We rolled about in out seats, watching the best of Monty Python performed by an enthusiastic cast, that managed to keep the audience in fits of laughter from start to finish.
Its hard to decide which sketch I enjoyed the most.Was it the blancmanje UFO sighting, where the poor witness had to describe what he saw in a high pitch to the first attendant, a deep low voice to the second, and finally, a high speed ramble to the third. Or was it "The Producer", where six young writers struggle to keep up with a crackpot producer(Karthik Srinivasan), whose entire script revolves around a tree. Sunil as the chartered accountant who dreams of being a lion tamer for ant eaters was hilarious, and KK in a pink toga as Michelangelo produced the traditional slapping of the thighs in riotous laughter.
The only thing I could find wrong with the entire production, was that it ended too soon. Caps off.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Monday, July 03, 2006
Baby blues
I was woken up yesterday by a three foot thing, jumping up and down on my tummy, and politely informed that I was a boat, the bed the sea, and the sole purpose of my creation, to throw my passenger off.
Six year olds can be quite a handful, with a few exceptions of course. Me, I was an angel in disguise, simply indulging in the occasional breaking of the mixie and throwing idlis under the table to make sure I didn't blow my cover. Born toilet trained too, in case you were wondering. And no, O cynical readers who roll their eyes, I didn't start discussing the pros and cons of a capitalistic society at the age of one. It took me a few more months to grasp the entire concept.
Now, with cut throat competition, the survival of the fittest, and all that jazz, babies these days find themselves under tremendous pressure, and so, obiously, they're a little jealous of my accomplishments. Which is why they poop as soon as I pick them up(And if you are one of those annoying people who goo goo them, they'll promptly drool all over your favourite shirt). Having learnt my valuable lesson, I am now goo goo reformed. Though to be honest, intellectual conversation doesn't really work. It doesn't even put them to sleep, like it would for any normal adult. They just look at you like you belong on a diaper, until you feel awfully insecure and begin reevaluating your entire life goals.
Funny faces do the trick though. You can make fish faces, act like an angry bear, and in drastic conditions, resort to pulling your lips apart in an attempt to be a platypus. Though as they grow up, you have to reinforce the fact that under no circumstances are you to be referred to as "platypoo"
In fact, while we are on the subject, you should never let two or more hang out with each other for more than an hour, because after exchanging the general how do you dos and the weather is a little peaky today, they are more often than not plotting the destruction of humanity, or twenty ways to make platypoos' face turn purple.
Yet, inspite of all of that, you tend to forget the injustice meted out to you when they gurgle their gurgles, and squish themselves on you, and you can smell that baby smell, and cuddle them and watch them laugh and clap their hands, and go awww...googooo.
Oh shoot!
Six year olds can be quite a handful, with a few exceptions of course. Me, I was an angel in disguise, simply indulging in the occasional breaking of the mixie and throwing idlis under the table to make sure I didn't blow my cover. Born toilet trained too, in case you were wondering. And no, O cynical readers who roll their eyes, I didn't start discussing the pros and cons of a capitalistic society at the age of one. It took me a few more months to grasp the entire concept.
Now, with cut throat competition, the survival of the fittest, and all that jazz, babies these days find themselves under tremendous pressure, and so, obiously, they're a little jealous of my accomplishments. Which is why they poop as soon as I pick them up(And if you are one of those annoying people who goo goo them, they'll promptly drool all over your favourite shirt). Having learnt my valuable lesson, I am now goo goo reformed. Though to be honest, intellectual conversation doesn't really work. It doesn't even put them to sleep, like it would for any normal adult. They just look at you like you belong on a diaper, until you feel awfully insecure and begin reevaluating your entire life goals.
Funny faces do the trick though. You can make fish faces, act like an angry bear, and in drastic conditions, resort to pulling your lips apart in an attempt to be a platypus. Though as they grow up, you have to reinforce the fact that under no circumstances are you to be referred to as "platypoo"
In fact, while we are on the subject, you should never let two or more hang out with each other for more than an hour, because after exchanging the general how do you dos and the weather is a little peaky today, they are more often than not plotting the destruction of humanity, or twenty ways to make platypoos' face turn purple.
Yet, inspite of all of that, you tend to forget the injustice meted out to you when they gurgle their gurgles, and squish themselves on you, and you can smell that baby smell, and cuddle them and watch them laugh and clap their hands, and go awww...googooo.
Oh shoot!
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