Tuesday, January 31, 2006


The long cut posters hanging from the signal posts in Bangalore’s glimmer. The shinning twisters and holograms stuck to the back of every vehicle in Bangalore’s posh. The everlasting stone rock concert at every Bangaloreans lip, pouring over coffee, wine and gin. Fails to understand the truth and real story of a tough little boy, who was struggling for his share of half cooked bread and ice cold sambhar, in the little town of Karaikudi.

Karupiayah Andhony Adams. The boy born to a Tamil worker girl and her supervisor-at-site, Greg Vincent; In the year 1959 when the building contract for the five star hotel was won by a British builder.
He promised her songs on the guitar, comforts of life, and loads of biriyani; and was never to return again after the five star hotel was built. Knowing very well that the timid Tamilian girl he used to fool around with was 6 months Pregnant.
The wrath and ira she went through made her abandon the lil boy by the church gate, just after he was born.

The little boy with characteristic tanned hair and enough complexion to emulate a British, grew up with a liking for music. He started leading the church choir the day he could pronounce "praise the lord" correctly. He used to flirt with nuns and impress them with his guitar tabs. He was a charmer, a young lad who would make it big some day. Sister Khuswant singh who raised the boy since he was 3 hours old, knew this deep in her heart.
Karupiayah Andhony Adams started writing songs when he was the age of 3, though he knew only 5 of the English alphabets A, B, E, D, and G. He managed to put these down in tabs, only he understood.

He sang and sang till his throat bled. One day it bled so bad that he could not feel his tongue; all he felt was the warm touch of his own blood. That's when Sister Khushwant Singh gave him the medicine, the medicine that would stick with him for the rest of his life, the medicine that would cure all his pains away, the medicine that would put him on the centre stage of glamour and fame. She gave him one full 'andaaal' of chicken biriyani.

The Chicken Biriyani did wonders to his throat and his voice, from melodious to divine, from divine to dapankoothu, karupiyah was going places; and he was ready for it. By the age of 18 he was a super duper hit in the town of Karaikudi.
He was known for that voice of his, the voice that made cows and buffaloes clean their own dumps from the streets, that made mothers weep, that made compulsive ass holes like me, to repent.
The voice that will keep him 18 till he's dead.

He wrote,

It does not work with armani suits
No gucci shoes - or designer boots
I’ve tried the latest lines from a to z
But there’s just one thing that works good on me

The only thing I want
The only thing I need
The only thing I choose
The only thing that works good on me...is you..
Chicken Biiiiriyaaani....

Ya it’s you - it could only be you
Nobody else will ever do
Ya baby it’s you - that I stick to
Ya we stick like glue

The only thing I want
The only thing I need
The only thing I choose
The only thing that looks good on me...is you
Chicken Biiiiriyaaani....

Hence Karupiayah Andhony Adams was christened, Biriyani Adams.
Since then he has grown in fame and money. He has been all around the world; he has seen many places and people. Amidst all this he forgot Karaikudi, and Sister Khushwant Singh along with her sorcerous Biriyani; until he started loosing his voice and felt his own blood in his mouth, again.

So he came back to visit his birth place, Karaikudi in pretex of some show in Bangalore, in the year 1994. Secretly meeting Sister Khushwant and devouring her Chicken Biriyani, he flew back, to fame glory and more money.

Like the wise man once said, Money and Fame keeps friends and family away. Sister Khushwant was left alone again; Until Biriyani Adams went sour with his voice again.

So he flew back to karaikudi in the pretext of another show in Bangalore, in the year 2001.
Everything was the same only that Biriyani Admans had other plans, this time. Plans that will scare day lights out of George Bush too.

Now who will want to keep the golden egg if he can steal the duck itself?

So Biriyani Adams devised a depraved plot to capture Sister Khushwant and her secret recipe. He tried his best to persuade Sister Khushwant Singh to either come with him or give away with the secret recipe, but his stillborn plot failed. Though he got his 'andaal' of chicken Biriyani, he had to go back epty handed with neither Sister Khushwant nor the secret recipe.

He vented all his frustration on stage, that evening in Bangalore.

He came back in 2004, with similar debased intensions. Alas, he ended up venting his anger on stage, AGAIN!!

In the year 2006, he is planning to come back and this time he will not return empty handed, so beware Sisters and brothers of Karaikudi, Biriyani Adams is back with vengeance.
But only this time he has changed ....
.....all that chicken biriyani did work on him; Just around his cheeks, neck and belly


Monday, January 09, 2006

Chapter 2: A Great singer’s fame.

I have all "A" s in my report card and only one "B", for co-curricular activities. This means I have straight A’s except for a “D” in singing. I have won laurels in elocution and painting, so that was not a problem, but when I enrolled myself for singing in our group song competition for the Green house in school; I was asked to handle the jingle and keep my mouth shut. I held my mouth real shut, so tight that at one time I felt I was turning blue, through out the song, but we went on to win the competition.

This was during the singing classes, At fist we all sang
"aey, merae wathan ke logon.... zara yaad karo kurubani....."
It sounded very nice, but Lakshmi madam, our singing teacher kept wincing and saying:

“Draw out your 'swaras' louder!"

We started drawing out our 'swaras' real loud, but she clapped for silence and said "You sound like cats yowling! I will go over it with each of you in-di-vi-dually.

That means one at a time.
She called on Bala first. Bala went over to the harmonium and whispered something to her. Lakshmi madam began to humm the harmonium and Bala sang in a piping voice:

kadam kadam milake ja...khushi ke geet gate jha..
yeh zindagi hai kaum ki thum kaum pe lutathe ja...

He was a scream. He sounded just like my neighbors kitten "Poocha" meowing. That was no way to sing. You could hardly hear him. I burst out laughing.

Lakshmi madam gave Bala an "A". Looked at me and said,
"All right, my laughing friend, let's hear you now".
I ran up to the harmonium.
"What will you sing?", she asked me politely.
"A patriotic song, sare jahan se achan...."

Lakshmi madam shook her head and began to humm the harmonium, but I stopped her right away.
"Please play it louder".
"We won’t be able to hear you then".
"Sure you will"
She started playing again. I took a deep breath and began to sing:

sare jahaan se achan...hindu sitaan hamarah ...hamaram
humbul buleh hai isike... yeh gulsithan hamara.. haamarah...

I really like that song. I can feel my blood getting warmer and the see the tri colour flag flapping high on the red fort, enough soldiers marching in their camouflage clothes marching for the battle.
I shut my eyes tight from the glory of it all and shouted at the top of my voice:

parwath se sabse oonchan... humsa ya asman ka....

I was singing so well I'm sure people could hear me across the street.
I pressed my fist into my stomach. This made my voice so loud I nearly burst.

ohoon..ohoooon.. ohooon... sarae jahan se chan...

I stopped because I was all perspired and my knees were trembling.
Lakshmi Madam kept on humming the harmonium, but she was crutched over the piano and her shoulders were shaking.

"Hows that?" I asked.
"Monstrous!" she never said anything like that about anyone before.
"It’s a great song isn’t it?"
"Yes". She dabbed her eyes with the hankie.
"Too bad you played it so quiet. It would have sounded much better if you'd played it much louder". I said
"I'll bear that in mind. Did it strike you, though, that I was playing one song and you were singing something slightly different?".

"No. It doesn’t really matter. But you still should've played it louder".
"Well, then since you have noticed the difference, I’ll give you a "C". For the effort".
She could have knocked me over with a feather. She couldn't mean it! A "C" was no mark for such fine singing. We could barely hear Bala and he got an "A". So I said,
“I’ll rest for a few minutes, Madam Lakshmi, and then I'll sing it even louder. You'll see. It's because I did not eat anything for breakfast. Other wise I could've sung it so loud I'd've made every one deaf. I know another song. Every time I sing this song my dog joins me too".

"and what song is that?"
"a very slow song" I began to sing it:

eh merae watan ke logoon..zara yaaaaad karo kurubani...

But Lakshmi Madam shut me up in a minute.
"All right that is enough, we'll discuss this next time".

The recess bell rang.
When I was going to the wash, I heard Lakshmi Madam telling my class teacher Sujatha Madam that I could become the next PT USha, or maybe the next VC Raman, but that I will never share RD Burman’s fame as a singer.
Sujatha Madam gave a smile and said “you never can tell!"

All the time I wonder whether RD Burman really sang louder than me.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

Drivels of a 6 year old boy.

I always wanted to write about things that happened during my gay days. After a long pause this will be the best thing for me to write. With thought of me myself and Anoop and enough gossip, I will try and pen things and events in episodes that shaped the present me, through my old days.

…….Anoop from under mamas wings, to squelch under a big BUTT.
“Grind between the cheeks”

Chapter 1 : What I like

I like to lie on my stomach slung over daddy’s knee, with my arms and legs dangling down like clothes on a line. I like to play caroms, chess and snakes n ladders, but only if I win. I don't like if I don't.

I like to listen to a beetle scratching inside a box. I like to talk to dad about our dog, and how cute he is. As soon as we move into a bigger apartment than our small 2 bedroom quarters where dogs are not allowed, we’re going to buy a dog and train it, feed it and wash it. The dog will be a very intelligent, bouncy dog, and it will play in the mud and catch balls, and follow me around where ever I go like a devoted dog.

I like to watch TV no matter what is on it, except when the guy with thick glasses come explaining mathematics on a white board.
I like to breathe hard after running real fast, but most of all I like to sing and sing real loud.
I like to hear stories that starts with "long long ago.." and "once upon a time.."
I like to listen to stories about "kapish" the brown baboon, from my granny. When we move into a bigger apartment we will get a baboon and it will live in the bathroom.
I like to swim in the shallows where the mud sticks to my feet, I like it better when the water is flowing and the sand under my feet rubs against my legs and tickles.
I like to March and parade around my grannies house holding the banana leaf high and coconut leaves stuck in my trousers like bullets around my waist.
I like to call people on the telephone.
I like to hammer and saw, I like to dig mud with my hands and also with a shovel.
I like to chew something when I walk; I love frogs and black beetles.
Every time I catch one I like to put it in my match box cage or in the plastic bag I carry in my pocket to catch earth worms when I dig. I love to watch the black beetles crawl every where on the table while I eat. I like to hear granny scream “get that disgusting thing out" and then dash to the kitchen.
I like to laugh. Sometimes I do not feel like but I force myself to, and before you know it, everything really seems to be funny.

I like to hop and jump around when i am very happy. Once while waiting for my tender coconut, which was being plucked, I was hopping around my grandpa
"What’s all this about" he said.
"I am skipping because you are my grandpa"
He understood.
I love tender coconuts. When we move to a bigger apartment we will plant a coconut tree in our yard and I will eat all the coconuts that will grow on them.
I like to smell gasoline and kerosene and paint.

I like to go to the local shop and drink soda with lemon drips. They send prickles up my nose and make my eyes tear.
When I climb the wooden stairs I like to make as much noise as possible. I like bunnies because they have such cute faces and long ears.
I like many things!