Who moved my Curd Rice

Ok. I know.

The title of this post is deceptively similar to a Best Seller Self Help Book. Disclaimer: The similarly is purely coincidental and not an attempt to fleece the popularity of that book.

It's not one of my seven habits to write lift offs. Come to think of it, its not even my bathrobe.

So, is this one of those cookery blogs...not really...its not even Chicken soup for the Soul...

To write a Cookery blog, after all would be a recipe for disaster.

So, what is this blog about?

Frankly, it's an ode to mediocrity. It's all about "Forget, Who Moved my Cheese...Who allowed me to get some cheese in the first place.!"..I was so happy with my Curd Rice...it goes well with Mango Pickle...it's difficult to move...both little people and little mice can't move it...and no one can move the big people...which is what the result is, if you have enough of curd rice!

So, who moved my curd rice!!!

Once upon a time...there was a Baba...not Baba Sehgal...although he was there too...this was one of them real things...those who teach Strip Yoga and Tantric Sex to middle aged foreigners. This one was the Before Specimen of Before and After adverts for Waxing Strips. Where there is a Baba...there is a baby (No..I think I got that one wrong...I think that one goes something like where there is a Bill there is a Monica...Aw! forget it...I am mixing these things...someone get my Cigar.)

So this Baba...he decided to write a book - It's actually quite simple to attain babadom...you begin with Tantric Sex...move on to an Ashram of your own (any order is fine...just don't forget the Sex)..get a fan following...write a book...get an exclusive MMS of your own...and voila...you are now a Baba. You should either be a Baba...or you should be Paris Hilton. All other Professions are for losers. Where is the curd rice - you must be thinking. Rightly. You see, there is no Curd Rice. There wasn't meant to be. Curd Rice was a metaphor.

Metaphors are the next big thing. Discovering new Metaphors is something like discovering the diamond in you.

Come to think of it, unless your mom was a rich babe...I doubt very much they will find a diamond inside of you. Not too many people can shit diamonds, it takes real guts to do so...pun purely by accident.

Well, this Baba...like all other Baba's, wanted to write a book. Like typical Baba books, this one was about discovering your inner voice. It talked off, among other things...writing the script for your inner voice...listening to the positive energy flowing through your inner voice. Really, if you spend too much time talking to your inner self, you'll end up in one of those Nursing homes for the rich. The ones where they give you enaemas if you get a headache.

To be continued...