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	<title>Dappan Koothu &#187; School Stories</title>
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		<title>Main laila laila chillaoonga kurta phad ke</title>
		<link>http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/flashback/main-laila-laila-chillaoonga-kurta-phad-ke/</link>
		<comments>http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/flashback/main-laila-laila-chillaoonga-kurta-phad-ke/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 01 Mar 2010 18:07:50 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>maxdavinci</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[flashback]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[puppy love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[School Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[teen romances]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/?p=416</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[It has been a while since a post appeared in this category, for most memories are either not worth documenting, or the other extreme where they don&#8217;t meet PG-13 standards.  The later years of school is probably the most memorable for many, that is if you&#8217;ve gone to a good school. That&#8217;s the time when you&#8217;re in the school prefectorial body, house captain etc, and your attendance at cultural &#38;  literary events goes higher than [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><a href="http://newsimg.bbc.co.uk/media/images/44165000/jpg/_44165516_416_4india_ap.jpg"><img style="margin: 2px 5px;" title="School Kids" src="http://newsimg.bbc.co.uk/media/images/44165000/jpg/_44165516_416_4india_ap.jpg" alt="" width="350" height="252" align="left" /></a> It has been a while since a post appeared in this category, for most memories are either not worth documenting, or the other extreme where they don&#8217;t meet PG-13 standards.  The later years of school is probably the most memorable for many, that is if you&#8217;ve gone to a good school. That&#8217;s the time when you&#8217;re in the school prefectorial body, house captain etc, and your attendance at cultural &amp;  literary events goes higher than the class register. Some of us are even sarcastically addressed to as Mr/Ms.OD(On Duty) or even as visiting-professors. With all this attention that you receive, comes a side-effect as well which is unavoidable. Your growing popularity in school attracts love-struck students of the opposite sex who are high on hindi cinema like <strong>flies to a sugarcane-juice stall</strong>. Well they can&#8217;t be blamed completely after-all the 90&#8242;s were full of college romances and in the last decade that came a level lower and spread to school stories. TV shows gave a whole new meaning to the scuffed ties, pleated skirts, school buses and taught us what teen romances were as they opened a new genre of mega-serials.<br />
<span id="more-416"></span><br />
Now I belong to a batch that was heavily schooled on the <span style="position:relative;color:black;width:150px;background:white;border-width: 0px 0px 0px 0px;border-style: dotted;border-color: --;filter:alpha(opacity=25);-moz-opacity:.25;opacity:.25;float:right;padding: 0.2em; margin: 1em;font-family:Verdana,Arial, Helvetica,Georgia;font-size: 24px;line-height:26px; text-align: right;"><span style="filter:alpha(opacity=75);-moz-opacity:.75;opacity:.75;">two </span><b> </b>biggest <br/><b></b>monstrosities <br/><b>of </b>Indian<span style="filter:alpha(opacity=90);-moz-opacity:.90;opacity:.90;"> cinema</span></span>two biggest monstrosities of Indian cinema, DDLJ and KKHH. Where every girl secretly wished to be a Simran/Anjali waiting to be swept of their feet by a Raj/Rahul, only to end up with losers who made <strong>Johnny Lever look like the VIP-Frenchie man</strong>! This flashback story has two characters like every bollywood masala romance ought to and a few unimportant side characters. This story isn&#8217;t about me , so please take off your doubting hats and cease to read between the lines. Let me begin with the girl who fits the description of Ms.Popular from the para above, and was on the prefectorial body as well. She was a worthy competitor in all the literary events and we did share a healthy rivalry, enough about me for this isn&#8217;t my story! Since we can&#8217;t take names here and I am told that a few chums from school silently read this useless blog, so let us call her Priyanka Chopra for convenience. I like to paint the women in my stories as strong achievers and in lieu of the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9gFKo9IKcQ" target="_blank">hockey world cup ads</a>, let us use this for now. The so-called hero is a refrigerator-like-looking guy, who was heavily built and his puffed bloodshot eyes might suggest that he burnt the midnight oil though his mark sheets would disagree. Since the first thing that comes to mind is a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8_NDSoAMpQ" target="_blank">stomping Sunny Deol</a>, let us call him that for now. Having successfully though distastefully introduced the characters, the story warrants a new paragraph for the plot.</p>
<p>Ms.Chopra was quite a popular person in school and had her share of admirers, her biggest deewana of those by miles was however our man Deol. After week of staring, and peeping from behind the stairwell, our man finally mustered the courage to let out his feelings one day. Now in times like these it is the friends you have, that cause more damage than being of any assistance. Who ever guessed that behind those owl-like-stares, there was a childish innocence that jumped with joy every time he got a discerning glare in return!  Not quite sure who&#8217;s idea it was but he accosted her one day in the school ground and blurted &#8216;<span style="position:relative;color:black;width:150px;background:white;border-width: 0px 0px 0px 0px;border-style: dotted;border-color: --;filter:alpha(opacity=25);-moz-opacity:.25;opacity:.25;float:right;padding: 0.2em; margin: 1em;font-family:Verdana,Arial, Helvetica,Georgia;font-size: 24px;line-height:26px; text-align: right;"><span style="filter:alpha(opacity=75);-moz-opacity:.75;opacity:.75;">Hey, </span><b> 143 I to </b>you, <br/><b>think and </b>tell <br/><b></b>2<span style="filter:alpha(opacity=90);-moz-opacity:.90;opacity:.90;"> days</span></span>Hey, 143 I to you, think and tell 2 days&#8216;. I kid you not for these were the very words he used, I&#8217;ve never been able to get over it and it haunted many of us for weeks. Now our school had these humongous trees, wide enough for 4-5 kids to hold hands and form a circle. Those trees were one of the reasons I opted to join the school in the first place, and kids often had lunch under one of these many trees. Finding Chopra alone, Sunny boy jumped from behind a tree to make his point, which according to him was the pinnacle of bravery. Our babe Priyanka however wasn&#8217;t amused and ran to class in a huff, leaving Sunny boy with his outstretched arms waiting. Her friends, the more wiser ones advised her to ignore the incident and avoid the guy for a while, hoping he&#8217;d get the message. When you have a stud like Sunny, you can safely assume that his friends to be in the same league, <strong>devoid any cranial connections</strong>. They advised him to do something heroic that may impress his lady love, clearly an overdose of 90&#8242;s regional cinema but then hum kya karen? One morning as Chopra was making her way to class, she was accosted by Deol near the 2nd floor balcony.  While I don&#8217;t quite recall the exact conversation, I do remember it ending with her asking him to get a life.</p>
<p>It was quite early in the morning and only the senior students were in school for special classses, to make up for the days lost due to various jayanthis, vardhantis and bandhs. Not quite sure of what riled him up, but in his bid to impress Chopra, Deol&#8217;s heroic thing was to <span style="position:relative;color:black;width:150px;background:white;border-width: 0px 0px 0px 0px;border-style: dotted;border-color: --;filter:alpha(opacity=25);-moz-opacity:.25;opacity:.25;float:right;padding: 0.2em; margin: 1em;font-family:Verdana,Arial, Helvetica,Georgia;font-size: 24px;line-height:26px; text-align: right;"><span style="filter:alpha(opacity=75);-moz-opacity:.75;opacity:.75;">jump </span><b> from </b>the<span style="filter:alpha(opacity=90);-moz-opacity:.90;opacity:.90;"> balcony</span></span>jump from the balcony. Now I don&#8217;t quite know if it was planned or his luck but there was a parapet just a few feet below the balcony where he landed. Given his track record and the collective IQ of his gang, I&#8217;d vote for the latter and say he was lucky. The sight of a refrigerator size guy jump out of a balcony was enough to zonk our sleepy heads on a foggy morning. Now however came the camel under the hillock, from the parapet he couldn&#8217;t climb back to the balcony for it was a good 6ft, and the ground was easily 10ft below. Adding to his woes was the fact that the jump had ripped his trousers from behind, they either were unable to take the force of landing or probably the angle wasn&#8217;t right. The end result however was a hefty deewana stranded on a parapet with his <strong>brick-red chaddis greeting the world</strong> from his behind. His friends later managed to fish him out, as he darted home for a change of clothes with a  sweater tied to his behind. While occasionally teased bout the incident, his eyes would go brick red along with his cheeks but he generally went unnoticed. Chopra however had to face the trauma of being teased for a long while and linked to a guy who had a penchant for red chaddis and jumped the balcony for her.</p>
<p><strong>PS:</strong> Neither of them read this blog, and I have no idea of what they are upto now. Those of you who&#8217;ve seen me, know that I look nothing like a refrigerator.</p>
<p><em>(<strong>Image Courtesy: </strong><a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/in_pictures/7035639.stm" target="_blank">BBC</a>)</em><strong><br/><br/>If you enjoyed this post, then you may also like:</strong>
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<li><a href="http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/flashback/return-of-the-jd/" rel="bookmark" title="September 1, 2008">Return of the JD</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/flashback/shaktimaan-will-punish-you/" rel="bookmark" title="March 4, 2009">Shaktimaan will punish you</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/flashback/oops-i-ragged-her-again/" rel="bookmark" title="September 6, 2008">Oops I ragged her again!</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/flashback/i-speak-bleak-you-speak-meek/" rel="bookmark" title="August 21, 2008">I speak bleak, you speak meek</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/flashback/cross-platform-compilers/" rel="bookmark" title="September 20, 2008">Cross platform compilers</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/flashback/good-morning-senior-saar/" rel="bookmark" title="September 9, 2008">Good morning senior saar</a></li>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Return of the JD</title>
		<link>http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/flashback/return-of-the-jd/</link>
		<comments>http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/flashback/return-of-the-jd/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 02 Sep 2008 03:08:39 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>maxdavinci</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[flashback]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[English Grammar]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[JD]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Nagarjun sagar]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[School Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Srisailam]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Vernacular]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/?p=258</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The image to the left may suggest that this post is going to be a watered down take on the greatest movie series ever. Regular reader will however be quick to spot the title and realize that this is the much awaited sequel to this post. For those who joined in late, JD was our Phy.Edu teacher in school who had a penchant for butchering the queens language. After a rather embarrassing incident during our [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><a href="http://www.storewars.org/images/landing.jpg"><img title="Store wars" src="http://www.storewars.org/images/landing.jpg" alt="" width="283" height="220" align="left" /></a>The image to the left may suggest that this post is going to be a watered down take on the greatest movie series ever. Regular reader will however be quick to spot the title and realize that this is the much awaited sequel to <a href="http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/flashback/i-speak-bleak-you-speak-meek/">this post</a>. For those who joined in late, JD was our Phy.Edu teacher in school who had a penchant for butchering the queens language. After a rather embarrassing incident during our quarterly exams, he took spoken English classes. The next few months were pretty incident free and we were always praying for some action. Our prayers were finally answered in February when the school announced an excursion to &#8216;<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Srisailam">Srisailam</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nagarjuna_Sagar_Dam">Nagarjun Sagar</a>&#8216;. Our class teacher was unable to accompany us and therefore JD was to step in and take responsibility for us! The news of JD coming with us was more than the fact that us co-ed adolescent teens were going to spend two nights away from home. <span style="position:relative;color:black;width:150px;background:white;border-width: 0px 0px 0px 0px;border-style: dotted;border-color: --;filter:alpha(opacity=25);-moz-opacity:.25;opacity:.25;float:right;padding: 0.2em; margin: 1em;font-family:Verdana,Arial, Helvetica,Georgia;font-size: 24px;line-height:26px; text-align: right;"><span style="filter:alpha(opacity=75);-moz-opacity:.75;opacity:.75;">We </span><b> </b>were <br/><b></b>in <br/><b>the </b>IXth <br/><b>with our </b>hormones <br/><b>waiting </b>to<span style="filter:alpha(opacity=90);-moz-opacity:.90;opacity:.90;"> erupt</span></span>We were in the IXth with our hormones waiting to erupt, but it all took a backseat for JD was coming!</p>
<p>The evening before was spent in discussion of what the probable incidents could be and bets were being placed. We were least bothered about packing the stuff in the checklist provided or even staying away from amma for two days. I barely slept that night, not because it was going to be just us and the girls, but because JD was coming! It was 5:30 in the morning and we were all at school in our school uniforms and JD was calling out the roll count and collecting permission forms signed by the parents. The girls looked great with their hair let loose and makeup, hell I was 14 so shut up and continue reading! Most parents had come to drop of their wards and especially the folks of the girls. Each one of them wanted JD to take special care for their ward, it made us boys look like savages though! One maal-girl lets not take names now, had brought her little sister along. The little one very enthusiastically hopped on to the bus and refused to get off. She was barely in the IVth I guess and threw a small tantrum saying that she wanted to go with her sister.<br />
<span id="more-258"></span></p>
<blockquote><p>No mummy, No daddy, yenny baady kidnap you, who respaansibull?</p></blockquote>
<p>All that the laughing and chatter suddenly came to a stop as everybody looked puzzled. The silence was broken by the cry of the dazed girl who didn&#8217;t understand what happened, but sure knew that JD was angry and hence yelled. It was really hard to control and everyone including the parents broke out into peals of laughter. It died down soon and we were all ready to leave. JD had made the girls sit in the font and us boys towards the rear and he went to sit near the driver. There were four buses and we saw the other buses had no such seating and we soon rearranged ourselves(couple seating obviously!). Once the bus hit the highway, we passed cassettes to the driver and were singing and dancing in the aisles.</p>
<blockquote><p>Arrey woh, who is doing kaabarey in the backside re? This is school bus or mehendi galli? raaskels!</p></blockquote>
<p>For those who didn&#8217;t get the joke, &#8216;Mehendi Galli&#8217; was a famous landmark in Hyderabd during the rule of the Nizams. Also called &#8216;Mehboob Ki Mehendi&#8217; it has been referenced in many films. So long story short it was famous for its courtesans and hookah bars. Who am I kidding, we didn&#8217;t know this shit then, the laughter was reverberating in the bus and we failed to pay further attention. We reached Srisailam and once again formed lines for the roll count and were being split into groups of ten. It was around noon and the February sun was beating down upon us. The girls in the line were in the shade of the busses while we guys were at the suns mercy.</p>
<blockquote><p>aye you sun rising baays, come here and start lining!</p></blockquote>
<p>The sweltering heat had made us forget about our ravishing female companions and even more JD. All the droopy eyed ones as well as the chirpy ones were suddenly jolted for we failed to comprehend his wise words. It took a while to realize that he asked us poor guys to form a new line int he shade of the buses so that we could be spared by the blazing sun.  It was very thoughtful, but I could see the guys from other sections turning green in envy, for we seemed to  be having the most fun and making the loudest noise!  JD was miffed by couples coochie-cooing and gathered all of us to play kabaddi.</p>
<blockquote><p>If you out-going the box you are out, if you are in-coming then you play</p></blockquote>
<p>Cellphones were still a luxury in India during those days and even incoming was charged! If any of you thought that that he was telling us how mobile communication worked then  you are mistaken. JD here was just explaining the rules of one of the the oldest desi games. The rest of the trip was pretty peaceful though I can&#8217;t remember any other gems right now. Do leave a comment if you liked it or have any similar stories.</p>
<p><em>PS: I liked him a lot, and now do feel bad for all we&#8217;ve done.</em><br />
<em>PPS: This blog now supports inline commenting and commentators will be notified by mail!</em><strong><br/><br/>If you enjoyed this post, then you may also like:</strong>
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<li><a href="http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/flashback/main-laila-laila-chillaoonga-kurta-phad-ke/" rel="bookmark" title="March 1, 2010">Main laila laila chillaoonga kurta phad ke</a></li>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>I speak bleak, you speak meek</title>
		<link>http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/flashback/i-speak-bleak-you-speak-meek/</link>
		<comments>http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/flashback/i-speak-bleak-you-speak-meek/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 21 Aug 2008 15:39:11 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>maxdavinci</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[flashback]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[English Grammar]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Phonetics]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[School Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Semantics]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Silk Smitha]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Vernacular]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/?p=252</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[We Indians are head and shoulders above all when it comes to butchering the English language. Any attempts to hand the Chinese a gold medal in this event will not be tolerated. They think that they speak English, whereas ours atleast remotely sounds like it! I was finishing up a post just as my friend &#8216;Kar&#8216; called to tell me of his new post. Having attended the same college and growing up in a similar [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><a href="http://codyfrew.files.wordpress.com/2007/06/alpha_soup.jpg"><img title="alphabet soup" src="http://codyfrew.files.wordpress.com/2007/06/alpha_soup.jpg" alt="" width="250" height="185" align="right" /></a>We Indians are head and shoulders above all when it comes to butchering the English language. Any attempts to hand the Chinese a gold medal in this event will not be tolerated. They think that they speak English, whereas ours atleast remotely sounds like it! I was finishing up a post just as my friend &#8216;<a href="http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/cubicle-shayari/kar-ke-kalam-se/">Kar</a>&#8216; called to tell me of his new post. Having attended the same college and growing up in a similar environment(I went to a much better school though), I could instantly relate to the sequences. If you are looking for something more witty and funny then head over to &#8216;<a href="http://sthitapragnya.wordpress.com/2008/08/20/taming-the-queens-tongue/">sthitapragnya</a>&#8216;, but do read on if you have nothing better to do.<br />
<span id="more-252"></span><br />
Having studied in one of the most prestigious schools in the city, English was never a problem and it was the medium for instruction as well as conversation. When I was in the VIIIth however, the school hired a Phy.Edu teacher who(for the lack of a better word) was a from a Govt school and a state level volleyball player. He was the reason I begun playing volleyball, not because I was tall or my love for the game but just to hear him talk. We never knew his real name and called him JD(Junior Duryodhan), don&#8217;t ask me why but the name just stuck.</p>
<p>We were writing an exam and JD walked in with the question papers, there was immediate chatter on chit-passing techniques, hand symbols, cough-sneeze patterns etc. I know what you are thinking and yes, I have been notorious since then! Suddenly a voice erupts</p>
<blockquote><p>who is sounding, who is sounding? yeez theej ejjamination haal or feesh maarkeat?</p></blockquote>
<p>There was pin-drop silence in the room as we were all shocked,not by the outburst but trying to comprehend what he said! It continued for a minute and then everybody broke out into peals of laughter. this was followed by another missile</p>
<blockquote><p>Yeediats, raaskels, why yuvar laffing re? Yeez Siliku Smitha dancing here or vat?</p></blockquote>
<p>Maddening silence again with some stifled laughter. Suddenly the bespectacled guy in the front row broke into a titter and banged the desk. A lot of us(including me) were wondering as to who <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silk_Smitha">Ms.Siliku</a> really was, but that could be saved for later as the laughter grew deafening. Unable to bear the din, our Chemistry teacher form the adjacent room rushed into reprimand us. What followed was a huge lecture on manners, respect, and general shame-on-you stuff. With great difficulty we finished the exam, but every time we asked for an additional sheet there were chuckles all over. There were only 15 more minutes left and people had begun turning their answer scripts in. A really dhamaal-girl(sorry, no names) had turned her paper and was walking towards the door, when again another gem from JD.</p>
<blockquote><p>aye you big ribbon, shut the fan and open the window. Let the fresh wind enter.</p></blockquote>
<p>For those who failed to get it, the girl had huge ribbons to tie her plaits. It was utter chaos as the girl was visibly embarrassed and the laughter was unstoppable. With great difficulty we all finished the exam and turned in our papers.</p>
<p>JD got a lot conscious after this incident and was judicious in his use of words thereafter. However JD did strike back but this post is getting a tad long, so let&#8217;s save it for part-two.</p>
<p><em>(Return of the JD, continued in <a href="http://www.maxdavinci.com/blog/flashback/return-of-the-jd/">part-two</a>)</em><strong><br/><br/>If you enjoyed this post, then you may also like:</strong>
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