Right Side Up

A portly pressure cooker of the TTK Prestige stable occupies a pride of place on our kitchen counter. He is a good egg, and renders yeoman service to my wife. On Saturdays, she shows him greater attention because without his coaxing the potatoes in his belly will not cook, and my wife cannot make those crispy, yet succulent beetroot cutlets  for dinner  – a Saturday special! This Saturday, the pressure cooker guy acted surly . He was upset because the lock- pins had not been inserted properly into the grooves, and the lid got jammed. My wife tried might and main, but could not open the lid. Exasperated, she kept the cooker aside and got busy in getting the lunch ready.                         “ The cooker is jammed and the boiled potatoes are in it ,” announced my wife as I entered the house with the weekly shopping. “ Why couldn’t you be careful?” I admonished her . The day was unusually hot and I could sense the tiredness souring my mood. “I don’t know how it happened,” she rep

 Claws and beaks of every shape and size; horns and tusks of varying strength and sharpness, jostled for a seat around the Great Council Rock. As the owl hooted the midnight hour the King of the forest strode in, accompanied by his lackey, the jackal. Seating himself on the hide of a buffalo he had smote in the spring, the great king began:  “ Brothers who trod and sisters who fly, When the world began, the Great Spirit had driven Eve out of Paradise . She and her man felt so naked that they sewed leaves to cover their shame and embarrassment. From then on, man and beast never looked in the eye without fear and mistrust. Once again man is becoming naked and wild because of his obsession with sex! Our reliable scouts, the jackal and the wolf fear that mankind might invade the forest and dispossess us of our habitation, in their search for kinkier experiences. I’ve summoned this great assembly to discuss and deliberate on this impending threat.” “ Have you , Akela , ever made love to

The Kacheguda Express from Mysore Junction was rearing to go. “Three minutes,” flashed the overhead LED sign. Footsteps of late-comers hastened towards coach no: 7 and I kept snapping at their heels to board the train. Sea of heads stacked like books on a rack, occupied the berths . Bodies in double file stood in the aisle like sentinels on duty, and made the movement slow and cumbersome. Through the narrow channel in between these human walls, I tiptoed to my reserved seat. “ Seat no: 44 is reserved,” my voice rang out firm and clear in the din of chatter. Without murmur, the young occupant vacated the seat and I managed to squeeze my 38'' waist into the vacant slot. The rest of the berth was occupied by four women and a cute kid. The passengers occupying the edge of the berths were perilously holding on to their swaying perch as the train gathered steam. However, everyone was not engaged in a mortal combat with the galloping train. Right in front of me, on seats 45 to 47