Beatlejuice

A week or so back, was involved in a Beatles Tribute by a band at Bangalore. One of the features of the event was a quiz where in Remasters of Revolver, Abbey Road and Rubber Soul were given away to the winners.
Predictably, the people who were supposed to conduct the quiz had everything but the questions to ask.
The task of setting ten questions in five minutes was soon deflected to me.

Thought I'll share the churn out here

Here goes:

1. Which Beatles song was actually written as a single for the Rolling Stones?

2. What do the following people have in common- Hitler, Gandhi and Leo Gorcey?

3. Which song was actually written as a campaign song for Timothy Leary?

4. At some point in time of the other all the people in this list have enjoyed which informal title?
The list: Brian Epstein, Neil Aspinall, Derek Taylor, George Martin

5. Which Paul Mcartney song was addressed to Lennon's son?

6.Which Beatles song addressed to Lennon's mother has lines inspired by Khalil Gibran?

7.Which mock-Beatles band has hit singles like- Ouch!, The Fool on the Pill and
W C Fields Forever?

8. Which Beatles song, originally intended for Joe Cocker, was hailed by Sinatra as "the greatest love song ever"?

9. Which Beatles song is supposed to have been parodied by Bob Dylan in his song "4th Time around"?

10. Which movie ends with a dedication to Elias Howe who invented the sewing machine?

Moon Bathing
After several months of inactivity, pointless hard work and general restlessness, I decided to bring down the hung boots and go for a trek with our old friend Akshay (The Comrade) Gupta
Being completely cut off from the scene for more than a year now, I was glad to let the Comrade work out the trekking route, the way to get there and all the minor details except the booking of my tickets.
Through a rather stunning move from the Mothers Inc, which has been having quite a field day in these troubled times, Bala was plonked in quite unwittingly as the third member for this great expedition
If you ever want to go on the same expedition here’s a useful map

We drove from Delhi to Shimla on Day one through some amazing 4 way “express” lanes, great dollops of makhan on several paranthas, Kurukshetra and mild headaches after 4 hours of night driving up the mountains
Day two was the drive through a wide array of four wheeled wonders- bull dozers, cranes, several cars, trucks and one armored vehicle through a road left undone by a Chinese company.
The road to Rohru needs completion badly to make the trekking route as popular as its other Himachal cousins- but it’s adequately motor able nevertheless
At Rohru, a dusty, polluted, buzzing town, that belies the beauty which lies just a kilometer ahead of it, one will need a place to stay – we recommend River View Hotel (Rs. 300/- per night) , who can also arrange avoidable expensive treks.
At Rohru, our savior and guide was a gentleman from the “trade” thanks to some deft salesmanship and corporate leadership by yours truly.

These gentlemen, as is unique to the trade, showered our unholy trio with hospitality we were frankly quite unworthy of- introducing us to several guides and trekking options in a town where the concept sounded quite hilarious to many
“An why would you drive all the way to Delhi so that you can walk 30 kms up hill?” was one of the few existential questions shot at us by the guffawing helpful gentlemen

Day one of Trek:
Drive up to the village of Dharmwari, 20 km from Rohru, along the banks of the River Pabbar.
Contact the well experienced and yet quite young Mr Pankaj Neigi, trained at the Mountaineering Course at Darjeeling (as was The Comrade) and the porter of his choice
Stock up on Maggi, rice, dal, masala, salt (we forgot that!) and some candies and park your car in the unlikely zone offered by Pankaj Neigi’s uncle/shop keeper
Take a Jeep ride to the closest motor able path to the village Janglik
Start the trek
Cross a sheep’s bridge across the Pabbar on the way up, through huge sheep and goat traffic jams , an act that might sink the bravest in an existential quandry
Climb steadily up for one more hour to reach Janglik
At Janglik rent your tents (250 a day) and your sleeping bags and resume the trek
Do indulge the request for photographs the numerous kids of the village
Reach an abandoned Gujjar hut after another 2-2.5 hour trek, pitch your tents in the wilderness and wonder at the number of stars a clear sky can reveal
Chop enough firewood from the nearby woods to ensure you can cook some food and keep your rear end warm as the temperatures dip to zero
Make sure you get your salt or else cook the dal in Maggi masala (TM to loonatix.com) and get yourself into a sleeping bag faster than you can say frozen balls
Day two of the Trek:
Wonder at the frozen bottle of water you left outside the tent
Disappear behind the bushes
Have sweetened rice for breakfast
Trek for an hour through some scenic woods and meadows
Reach campsite two in a meadow infested with wild horses and buffaloes
Pitch tents and resume trek
Four hours on through more woods, meadows and some climbing along the Pabbar leads to the seven lakes of Chandra Nahaan
Have the packed lunch i.e. Maggi noodles in a pressure cooker for Lunch
Trudge back to the camp to realize that you have a snow peaked mountain just a kilometer over your head
Chop more firewood for the kitchen and general well being
Sleep out to warm the cold bones in some sun light, soothed by the sounds of gentle mastication of the grass by nearby buffaloes

Day 3 of Trek:
Go all the way back to Janglik and realize that you really have walked up quite a bit
Watch Bala leap and stroll like a mountain goat in the hope that the entire thing was finally coming to an end
The Mountain goat:

Watch Bala struggle again

The struggle:

Marvel at great feats and miracles by the Grey Wizard
Reach Rohru back at around six in the evening
Do your round of thanking the various people who sniggered, advised and accommodated weird requests from The Comrade for warm underwear

Day 4 of the Trek:
Drive down to Delhi from 9 am to 3 am singing along to various Stones, Doors and Beatles Remasters albums

A for Adult Story- Chapter 2

or

Que Sera Sera (Whatever will be will be)

V is willing himself into one struggle with evil, for life. His life took swerves, turns in conjunction, post the brief moment of innocent bliss with Bob's sister.
Never will I forget the little girl, oh sister, he proceeded to expound in defense of his right to survive execution, to the Jury.
The Jury consisted of several bus drivers, industry union members, post communist free thinkers. None were disposed well to V. The enquiry was stilted= mockery.
Childhood is long gone. Depression seized the sould to turned it north of noble thought.
The world is obsessed with horse riding or liquor bottles, well fed on celebrity obsession, where everyone with you is one! famous! the television publicity industry forever taught.
The french seized control of musical thought.
Roxy! ! sighed V in front of the Judge.
Who would Roxy be? pondered the Jury
The red lights were turned off. Everywhere noir, great noir, the tune went.
Turn it off! Turn it off!
Memories of the little girl gently drifted through the wind. The wind is breeze from revolving rotors fixed to the ceiling.
Liquid excrement flows from the skin pores, only to turn into wind in the rotor breeze. The Jury with Judge silently excrete like I do, in dignity, as winds thieve our guilt.
You will see no light, is the verdict
Not right, the little boy thought, protesting.
Someone was listening.
It will be when it will be, she told him,misquoting
The future dimmed. He opened his eyes.
The lips were still there in frozen time. Bob' s sister.
I will be turned in but you turn me on, he told her.
Come in, she told him.
The storm shelter is torn down.
The little girl is lost.

Story for Children - Chapter 5

or

A for Adult Story - Chapter 1

The night little boy, V, witnessed, in person, the philosopher Bob expertly woo his six strings, he knew he would lose much sleep. The following nights were spent in pure torment. Drenched in soulful melodies rendered by Bob, V found himself violently thirsting to meet this myth, kiss his feet, serve the legend. Thus is the birth, the genesis of obsession. V could think of nothing else. Bob everywhere. Bob in everything. Food, delicious or otherwise, reeked of Bob. Routine work reminded him of Bob. Mindless gossip distilled to impromptu soliloquies on Bob. Sex, Bob. Wine, Bob. Music, Bob. Books, Bob. Bob, Bob, Bob, for eternity.

His friends were, not surprisingly, quite worried. "He's slipping to the sky," they would hwhisper. "Bob possesses the eerie power to set his lovers upon the route of no return, where no destiny exists to stir hope in the bosom. If V persists in this destructive love, we will lose him forever to the sky."
They spoke gentle words to him, offered gifts, tried diverting his mind to more fruitful hobbies, like horse riding. Their efforts were hopelessly doomed from the beginning. By the time they got wind of this insidious, one-sided religion, V found himself swirling, puppet like, in the rough storm unconsciously inflicted by Bob.

V spent more time with himself. Energy, he thought. This god brings me energy, while being curiously tiring, too. He slipped into endless worlds of mirrors. He met fellow Bobists living in his reflections. He needed no one else in his life.
"I need..," murmured V to himself softly. "Olive oil, mint, pesto, rice, herbs…""Excuse me… oh, I'm so sorry… Let me help you…"

V frowned. Stupid little girl, fucking bitch, he swore. Feet drenched in sunflower oil, he did not feel very forgiving.
The little girl stopped, suddenly, noticing his choice of music. "You listen to Bob!"
V nodded curtly.
"Whoever thought my loser-brother's music would be followed this wide!" She chuckled.

V froze. His blood pumped furiously through his veins. Bob's sister… he felt the urge to press his lips to the girl's. He felt himself grow. He fought the urge to lose himself in her tresses... He turned to the girl for the first time since their meeting.
Petite, with curly tresses, the little girl stood before him, glowing. Her eyes were liquid green, her lips cherry red, her skin toned down brown. The fingers were thin, lined with cuts – the gift of loving the six-string.

Story for Children- Chapter 4

And so it all began. The little boy would religiously wake up at 4 o clock each morning and begin his holy rituals, starting with the ablutions and ending with prasad. He was careful not to wake the little girl, though. She would wake up at 8, drink her tea and leave for office, only to return at 10 pm.

The little boy spent all his time meditating in front of the altar, of course. In his mental and spiritual absence, the little girl took care of the house; she swept, washed and cooked like before. As days went by, the little boy began to see progress: he began to understand what the bottles were discussing. Strangely enough, the discussions seemed to be a seamless loop, like thus, barely discernable because of the slurred voices:

"The Queen it is, with her glittering diamonds." - This was a rough, Russian voice.
"And the jester by her side." - French.
"Oh, I say, seven for heaven!" - British, of course.
"Why, you.." - Angry chorus.

After which it deteriorated into dreadful, angry buzzing, like flies. After the buzzing died down, the conversation picked up from the beginning all over again.

The little boy simply did not know what to make of it. This was going to be a tougher ordeal than he ever imagined.

Story for Children- Chapter 3

"Did you know, tortoise, that polar bears are actually nudists evolved over the years?" The yellow tortoise bobbed at her feet, clearly startled.

"When early man introduced the concept of clothing, there was a section of society that begged to differ. The nudists set up a colony in the Arctic, far away from their hitherto fellow men. As time passed by, the nudists evolved into creatures with heavy fur to protect themselves from the biting cold. We know them as polar bears."

The little boy, who was following this carefully, was flabbergasted. The little girl was either clearly mad, or sagely beyond her years. The little boy could glimpse the Bottle on a shelf nearby, and tried to softly make his way to It.

SQUEEEAAAK!

The little boy looked around, startled, and realized that he had stepped on a blue giraffe near the door, which had squeaked loudly in turn. He sheepishly met the little girl's mildly surprised gaze.

"Hello, there," he ventured. And, feeling obliged to render an explanation, "I came in through the bathroom window."

"Wasn't it dreadfully slippery with all the moss growing on the walls?," she asked, in mild concern.

"Oh, it was OK, I managed quite alright."

The little girl smiled mildly. She was turning out to be a very mild person.

"Can I help you in any way?" she asked.

The little boy narrated the entire story to her, with some passion. The little girl listened sympathetically.

"So, you came back for the Bottle," she said. "You're welcome to be my guest to have it."

She led the way to her living room, where all the Bottle stood in resplendent splendour in the midst of the other bottles. The little boy stood before the holy scene for awhile; he could not be sure, but he thought he heard conversation from the altar, from the bottles themselves!

"Can you hear anything?," he asked the little girl.

"Why, no! Do you? I expect it's the neighbors. They do carry on so. Their parents were recently married, you see, and are on a honeymoon. When the cats are away, the mice will play!" she ended wisely.

The little boy fell silent. He knew what he must do. He mustered courage.

"May I stay at your place for some time?"

The little girl cocked her head mildly and looked seriously at the boy. "You're welcome if you want to," she said. "I'm gone most of the day - I work in an IT company, you know - so you should find it comfortable here."

"What work do you do?"

"I am a Self-Motivations Catalyst. I help people stay motivated in their work, and help them see a future in the company."

Story for Children -Chapter 2
The alcohol shopkeeper was in good spirits that day. He was always happy when the little girl paid his shop a visit. She was, in many ways, a divine sign that alcohol was his true calling. You see, once upon a time, the shopkeeper had been a sweets vendor, and had owned a famous bakery chain called 'Iyengar Bakery.' Due to a series of unfortunate circumstances, the shopkeeper woke up one day to find the the Key opened the door no more. He made do with what he had, and became an alcohol vendor, owner of the famous alcohol chain 'Iyengar Bar.' His is a different story however, and we shall discuss him another day.

The character we are concerned about, at the moment, is his son, the little boy. When the shopkeeper got back home after a hard day's work each day, he would bring a gift for the little boy: a vintage alcohol bottle. He would often tell the little boy the story of the lost Key and the mysterious, divine circumstances that led to his being an alcohol shopkeeper. To his mother's consternation, the little boy listened very devoutly to these stories, and soon began to equate alcohol with the Divine presence in his life. He would religiously store all his father's daily gifts and then perform an elaborate ceremony involving flowers, incense, and empty alcohol bottles.

After many days of austere practice, the little boy was gifted with what he considered a divine vision: a vision of the Bottle that would save humanity. The Incarnation, he saw, would be in the shape of a Happy Buddha carved out of translucent green stone. When his father received his gift from Korea, a cheap arrack in the form of a Happy Buddha and carved from translucent green stone, the little boy was awed. The Bottle had chosen his humble home as its Headquarters to work It's magic from! Under the watch of his apalled mother, the little boy intensified his rituals and meditated upon the Bottle constantly.

While meditating one day, the little boy felt a disturbance in the divine aura surrounding him. He opened his eyes to see his father sell the bottle to a little girl. Distraught, the little boy surreptitiously followed the little girl home to try and coax the Bottle back to It's abode.

When they reached the little girl's home, the boy was startled for a second. The house was crooked so he had to crane his neck to make it look alright. After the initial moment of confusion, the little boy climbed up the pipes and entered the house through the bathroom window. He slowly made his way around, when he noticed the little girl in the bathtub with her back to him.

The little girl was dressed in a bright pink bathrobe and had a yellow tortoise floating near her feet. She seemed to be narrating a story to put it to sleep.