Behind the masks

Taking selfies, like many other bizarre acts has somehow suddenly become a common practice of every Tom and Harry. Not resisting the urge to capture a good memory, I took out my phone. While I was setting the right angle, right light background and blah blah, all of which is pertinent to have a 100K liked selfie, someone prodded me. At first, I thought it was nothing. When an ambush of prods followed, I realized this was tickling. My dad was sitting near the source of tickling, but I knew him well enough to say he wouldn’t do it. Hence in that fraction of a second, my mind had simultaneously thought about so many things and even somehow somewhat produced a reaction. Ah, what a marvelous thing, this brain is. Indeed. Back to the topic.
So I turned 45^o roughly just to see Mickey Mouse tickling me. Now I am not a toddler….or so I think so. Anyway, I knew that Mickey, had not come in person to meet me. It was an impersonation. In other words, there was a man behind the mask. My dad soon shooed him away, since my brother is apparently suffering from claustrophobia, which extends to cartoon characters costumes worn by people. While I was still trying to figure what actually had happened, my mother remarked something which fueled the train of my thoughts. My mother said, that how people…wait let me put it the right way….how people did various stuff for a living. She was sympathetic and she felt bad. I on the other hand was the driver of a totally different train of thought.
In my early childhood i.e. before 10 years, I was lucky to have this Donald Duck fellow, in the restaurant, quite near our home. I vividly remember how I was reluctant to meet him but I would still shake hands with him. I was neither hostile nor afraid. I was just confused or nervous. Simply, I had interacted with such sorts of people from my childhood.
Now the event we were talking about, occurred inside, at a temperature around 45^o C, no wind and no AC (at least it wasn’t working). Though I am no weatherman but the conditions were pretty much the same. Now…the mickey guy was wearing a pretty thick costume and a heavy head in such conditions……So much for living!? Albeit, I want to talk about another thing.
I like Batman among all superheroes. Yet I like Joker more than any other superhero or villain. Joker is usually the practical guy if you observe. I like his approach towards life and his dialogue “You know how I got these scars?” Joker is a damn optimist.  No matter, how grave is the situation, let it be a dynamite inches away, he always dons a smile. How sweet! But….but..do you know why he is an antagonist? Of course you do. It’s because deep down under the pocket of that fancy purple suit, (which God Alone knows contains what and whatnot) there is a heart beating. An evil heart. Evil from the core. Tell me something honestly. If Joker was to take a good shower, brush his hair in a nice style and remove whitening cream from his face, won’t he look better than many others. Still he would be evil from within.
I neither wish to emotionally hurt someone nor humiliate somebody. Just thinking about it. Maybe that guy under the Mickey costume was a wanted criminal! No, that’s exaggeration. But…maybe he is a really sad man. Already over with life. Drowning in debts. Starving since birth. Hearing innumerable complaints. Father of meek beings. The bearer of responsibilities. Unable to satisfy the Lord or the people. A man whose existence would be known by little. A man whose death might not even stir one soul. A man who might not even get space for his grave. A man would be only remembered after his depth, that to, for only a day. A man whose identity, is virtually and practically significant to nothing. Yet…yet, he strolls around you, tickling you, trying to spread happiness (usually) and putting a good smile to cheer others.
Like many other things, I would give none other than my own example. I think that I have a lot of worries. Homework, upcoming tests, high expectations, and blah blah. What I don’t see, are the luxuries. I get good food to eat, good clothes to wear and pure water to bath and drink. Yet, I can’t afford to put a curve other than a frown on my face. How miser am I! How cruel! How ungrateful! My worries are nothing compared to that guy in Mickey costume. He is far better than me. He can at least shrug off his countless problems and live to make his own and others life better. I….I am a pessimist. I rather spread worries.
Lesson….see the silver lining of everything. If that guy with 1000s of problems can put up a somewhat smiling face somehow, why can’t you? After all, it’s free and it might also cheer someone else. Share happiness :)

Mr Jam and His Diary entries

Nury Vittachi is a columnist and he writes for the readers digest as well. That is from where I got to know him. Anyway his entries are awfully entertaining and I must say you guys to read one of these and others at The Curious Diary of Mr. Jam

 
How Men Think?
Disaster! I’ve been doing my new calorie-counting app wrong. I got a new high score every day.  Then the wife tells me that the whole point is to get low scores. 
“So how do you win?” I asked. 
She said: “You don’t. People just do it for a few months and then give up.”
!!!!! What’s the point? Grrrrrr. 
Whoever designed this app knows NOTHING about how male brains work. 
We need bigger to mean better, which, if you think about it, makes evolutionary sense, right? 
***
It runs deep. If you ask a guy whether he would rather die of old age or be vaporized by a volley of a 100 anti-aircraft missiles covered by a thousand media channels, REAL MEN go for the big guns, no hesitation. We all have to go some time, right?
***
Size matters. On TV the other day, a guy said that Apple may become the first company to be worth a TRILLION dollars. 
My male investment banker friends (even the Samsung "fanbois") were so excited they could hardly breathe.
***
Smart educators should use the male urge to worship big-ness in schools when teaching arithmetic.
TEACHER: “Okay, students, today, we’ll start with a math test: 25 times 43.” 
(Girls start writing. Boys look bored, start hacking bits off each other.)
TEACHER: “People with Y chromosomes can calculate 25 BILLION times 43 BILLION.” 
(Boys suddenly get excited, start writing.)
***
An etymology expert told me that although there have been famous female mathematicians, the people who invent big numbers were all GUYS. The word “million” was dreamed up by a Frenchman in 1270. 
Thus you should ALWAYS say “million” with a French accent, like this: “Un meee-leee-ohnh,” assuming, of course, that you want to be revoltingly pretentious, which I know is really important to many of us.
***
Asia had big old numbers too. In ancient Buddhist texts, scholars found a number called “Number of grains of sand in the Ganges” or heng he sha, which was ten to the power of 52. (Someone must have actually counted them, probably as some sort of Bronze Age job creation scheme.)
***
Now, at the time of writing this, financial guys are a bit hyper, as the Chinese stock market’s turnover has been around ONE TRILLION YUAN A DAY.
How things have changed. Twenty five years ago, when I was a young business page reporter, there was one particular day when the Chinese stock market turnover was ZERO (also not a joke). On that date in 1990, not one share was bought, sold or swapped.
Luckily, business reporters can spout smart-sounding rubbish for hours, so I did. 
“Turnover was on the light side, holding steady at zero yuan for the first hour and the second hour and the third hour as the sidelines were hogged by the main players and indeed the minor players and even Mrs. Liu who pops in from the noodle shop next to the stock exchange…(blah, blah, blah).”
***
The next time my wife asks about my score on the calorie counting app, I'm going to revive the classic terminology: “Pretty good: today I scored heng he sha, the number of grains of sand in the river Ganges.”