Spiked!: Pit stop

A column on stories that didn’t make it

April 01, 2013 06:45 pm | Updated 06:45 pm IST

At a recent expedition to Marakanam in search of an archaeological excavation site, this reporter was sent around in search of big pits. One lady very confidently informed the reporter that there was a pit a km away from an old temple. And there was one, only it wasn’t an excavation site. The headman of a village nearby had a wedding recently and the pit had been dug for a mass garbage bin.

Smelling trouble

When this reporter attended a concert recently, she was mildly petrified by the kind of frisking men ahead of her were put through on the security line. But she realised women weren’t being frisked. Only their hand bags were being checked. With a smug smile she moved ahead. The smile vanished though when the security personnel, looked horrified after a peek into her rather disorganised bag, picked out her perfume spray and piled it with other ‘confiscated’ items.

Work woes

It’s so tough to get sympathy when you’re a lifestyle writer, as a journalist discovered much to her dismay.

She got home after an especially gruelling weekend assignment in Hyderabad. She was stuck in traffic, missed a flight and then worked from 8 a.m. till well past midnight. But when she complained about being exhausted, all she got were looks of irritation from friends and colleagues. Which was really unfair. So what if she had spent the weekend at Falaknuma Palace tasting champagne. It’s still work, right?

Verse situation

Bananas, murukku , biscuits…the poet’s wife brought me numerous plates of eatables. She wanted to make sure I was well-fed before I interviewed her husband. But food was the last thing on my mind — I was at the wrong address! I was looking for a 30-something poet and here I was, sitting with a retired Tamil professor. The only thing in common between the two was their name. “Sir…I’m looking for a different person...” I said. “That’s alright,” he said, and showed me a couple of his poetry anthologies. “I’m a published poet. You can also write about me.” I ended up quoting the man in a different story; how could I not, after all the murukkus ?

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