The Quirky Life of P

Humor and satire revolving around Mr P- a fictional mix of an avatar of Mr Bean and the veritable Bertram Wooster of Wodehouse fame.

Gone Fishing…

MC900389170[1]

Anyone who knew P well was convinced he was good at fishing. Often when  he was away from work, there was a note stuck on the door of his office which said “Gone fishing….” But…

Many a time P had gone fishing

And come home without any catch;

To bait the hook, he kept forgetting;

The fish were sharper, more than his match!

 

All he ever caught was once when he pulled in the reel,

Out came a soggy shoe hanging by its lace!

Another time a tug from something live he could feel,

Was a puffer fish, P let him go when it pouted up its face.

 

Yet P never thought of giving up the fine sport of fishing;

He loved to sit with legs dangling down the side of the pier;

With homing birds in the crimson sky, the sun slowly setting,

His reel idling in the rippling waters, the breeze caressing his hair.

 

Something seemed to soothe him then:

His catch didn’t matter, nor the past or the future;

It was like meditation or serene and calming Zen

As he blended in blissfully with Mother Nature…

P gets puzzled

con1-copy

P sat down to pen his verse

For a post on a one word prompt;

He scratched his head, he pulled his ears

But was left totally whomped.

 

He broke the word without a wrench:

The first three letters stood for cheat;

The next two, the UN or ‘one’ in french;

The last four formed something one could beat.

 

Confused what the word really meant,

P wondered how one could be so dumb

To scam a UN percussion instrument;

It was such a conUNdrum!

 

P finds his place…

Reblogging this post that was previously published for a daily prompt as it is relevant to the theme “finding your place“.

 

From India P flew to New Zealand,newzlnd-2-copy

Looking for a better life;

Endured the cold  in the south, but

Earthquakes shook his sanity.austr1-copy

Ferrying across the Tasman he then

Landed down in Australia;

Emus and roos were endearing,

Employment, though, was hard to find.aus3-copy

Friends and foes suggested he

Left for a share of the American Pie;

Excitedly he flew to the United States but

Entry was denied, Immigration threw him out.usa1-copy

Fleeing to India he found his place;

Losing itchy feet and all bravado,

Eventually he progressed so spiritually;

Everything, he now believes, was simply meant to be.

peace-copy

A mantra for absentmindedness

He bent down on all fours and peered under the bed. It was not there. He checked under the cushions, on the sofa and searched with his fingers in the gaps in between but was disappointed. P then took a moment to mentally track what he had exactly done on getting home with his shopping last evening.

untitled-1-copyBoth his hands had been loaded with his shopping bags that he had taken from the boot of the car and he had barely managed to open the door to enter the house. He had dumped his shopping on the dining table as was his usual way and had then stretched out on the sofa to watch some TV. It was only much later that he had unpacked and sorted out his shopping after which he had had his dinner and retired to bed.

But now it was quite late in the morning and although he was dressed and ready to leave for work on time, he could not find his car keys. He had searched everywhere in the house and had even gone through the grocery he had bought the previous day but the car keys had simply vanished. He did not wish to lose his job again and only if he could find the key in time, the situation could still be saved. He could then get to work even if a little late and sneak into his seat without alerting his boss

.untitled-2-copyFate however seemed to be conspiring against him. The key had mysteriously disappeared and P was nearly in tears with frustration and worry. Frantically he searched through the ledges of a book shelf which housed several spiritual and mystical books that he had collected over the years to help him in his inward quests. He had not bothered to read them and had only kept them dusted once in a while. His anxious and fumbling hands dislodged some books and one fell on the floor. P picked it up to put it back in its place. The book was one that he had borrowed from the library and it was all about mantras and mystical powers. P was quite in the habit of turning to God and the mystical when everything else failed.

However the only mantra P knew was “Om” and as a last resort, he decided to go to the car and try it out. He put his hand on the door handle on the driver’s side and pulled it. It opened magically. Excitedly P got in and sat on the driver’s seat. He held the steering wheel tightly with his fingers and closed his eyes. He then ran his hand down the side of the steering wheel and P muttered a loud “Om” as magically his fingers touched the car keys lodged in the slot there! P could never decide whether it was his mystical mantra or his absentmindedness that had brought the key to its slot in the car! It was all such a mystery!

After exams…

An Extreme Tale: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” — Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities. When was the last time that sentence accurately described your life? – Daily Prompt

New Picture (2)

Exams when over,

The best of times dawn for P:

He can now unwind,

Sleep in, laze about, party!

His joy can’t last, you’ll soon find.

 

Waiting for results,

Makes it of all times the worst:

He’s now in distress,

Dreads his grades, his head could burst!

Can someone help him de-stress?

New Picture (1)New Picture

Jalfrezie for Thanksgiving…

Never Too Late: Is there a person you should’ve thanked, but never had the chance? Is there someone who helped you along the way without even realizing it? Here’s your chance to express your belated gratitude.- Daily Prompt

P on the phone: “Hey Sis? How are things?”

Sis: “I’m all right P. What is it this time? You have to be quick. I am about to go shopping”.

P: “It’s nothing. I just wanted to call you and see how you were and…”

Sis: “P, get to the point, I’m in a hurry.”

P: “Well, I just finished making a vegetable Jalfrezie to go with my rice and ‘Sookha rotis’, like what you made for last Thanksgiving, and I followed your instructions exactly… but it does not taste the same like what you make…”

Sis: “So then, could you tell me what you did exactly?”

P: “I’ll read out what I had written down from your instructions…”

P proceeds to read out the recipe from the piece of paper:

“Recipe for vegetable Jalfrezie

2 tbsp oil , 1/2 tsp cumin seeds, 1/2 cup onion-chopped fine, 500 gm mixed vegetables-cut chunky, 10 shallots-peeled and halved, 1/4 cup tomato puree,1 tsp ginger paste, 1 tsp garlic paste, 1 tbsp green chillies-chopped fine , 1 1/2 tsp kashmiri chilli powder, a pinch of garam masala, 2 tomatoes-cut into cubes, coriander leaves-to garnish.
Heat oil and add the cumin seeds, Mix in the chopped onions and sauté till light brown,
Mix in the vegetables, shallots, tomato puree, ginger-garlic paste, green chillies, and chilli powder; Cook vegetables for ten minutes, Add tomato cubes, and cook for another 5 minutes, Stir, sprinkle a pinch of garam masala and cook for about 5 minutes and serve garnished with the coriander leaves.”

New Picture (20)

Sis: “That sounds all right to me, except that there is no mention of salt…

P: “Oh, should I have added salt? You didn’t tell me that!”

Sis: “I am sure I said salt to taste… Unless you did take it literally and tasted some salt…”

P sheepishly: “Could be… could be… Can I add the salt now? I suppose it is never too late?”

Sis: “You can add the salt now, never too late unless you have finished eating the dish I guess, but the vegetables will not absorb it as well as when it is added while they are being cooked… Anyways, the dish would taste better with some salt even if it is added now.”

P: “OK then. Bye…”

Sis:  “Bye”

The phone was put down at the other end and then P realised he had forgotten something…

He called her up again and she picked up the phone.

Sis: “What is it now P?”

P: “I just wanted to say thank you. I wanted to thank you when I was over there yesterday at Thanksgiving but it slipped off my mind… I guess it is never too late to let you know how much I appreciate all your help and advices and for putting up with me.”

Sis: “P my dear brother, you don’t have to put into words all your feelings… It’s always written all over your face! I love you for all your quirks!”

P: “Thank you sis! I love you too… And before you go for shopping can you come on Skype and take me through how I can make some ‘Sookha rotis’ to go with the Jalfrezie please?..”

It was too late for P as the phone then was switched off on the other end.

New Picture (24)

Never Too Late

Murder on the train

Overheard: This week’s writing challenge revolves around eavesdropping.

New Picture (18)

P had been ill at ease with the night travel by train in India, especially when he did not get tickets for the air-conditioned compartment and had to travel second class with the windows left open to counter the heat. It was not helpful that only the previous day, he had watched the film ‘Madras mail’, which was about a murder on a train. Tired, he had however nodded off and was woken as the train jerked to a stop at a station.  As he lay there with his eyes still shut, slowly drifting off to sleep, he was jolted by the sound of a slap. He kept his eyes closed and listened…

Child’s voice: “Kill him, mummy, Kill him!”

Woman’s whisper: “Hush! I don’t want you to wake up everybody on the train!”

Through half-opened eyes, P slowly peeped at the family of three on the opposite berth, travelling in the same cubicle. The dim light was still turned on and he could discern the figure of the man slouching by the window, probably fast asleep.

The woman was now looming over the husband with her hand slightly raised as the tot stood by her side, anxiously whispering “Get him mummy, get him!”…

P was shocked to hear the child say those words… He couldn’t believe a child could be so evil!… But then he remembered the famous film, “Omen” and he shuddered.New Picture (19)

The woman was now leaning towards her husband and as her raised hand came down in a slap, P cringed and shut his eyes…

Child’s voice: “Did you kill him?”

Man’s voice: “What the…?”

Child’s voice: “Did he escape again?”

Woman’s voice: “Yes, Dennis. And stop calling the mosquito “him” and “he”. It is an “it”…

P breathed a sigh of relief…

The woman was trying to kill a mosquito… and not her husband!

Unless of course, by the term “mosquito”, she was alluding to her husband…

 

 

 

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: