For the one who healed the world, made it a better place, for you and for me and the entire human race…

“Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.”

W. H Auden, ‘Funeral Blues’

PS: Comments on this post disabled

What would childhood be?

Word count: 300 | Estimated time to read entry: 4 min

My reading habit has been steady if not prodigious in the past few months. Having tried Isaac Asimov, S. Maugham, Charles Dickens,  Lewis Carroll, Mark Twain, Agatha Christie, Ruskin Bond and O.Henry, I wanted to try something new, something light and something that I could pick up anytime of the day for a quick read. I explored various options on Amazon when I suddenly realized that I was ignoring something closer home that had entertained me for endless hours during childhood – Tinkle!

 

A quick Google search revealed that Tinkle now had online presence. Within minutes I completed the subscription formalities and after a few weeks the first of the issues arrived!

 

I was as overjoyed to see the copy as I was in Class 1, perhaps more. The magazine had not changed much but the coloring was cleaner and the page layouts better. All the familiar characters were doing what they did best – Tantri the Mantri had failed once again in dethroning the king; Suppandi drove yet another master nuts with his idiocy and Shikari Shambhu was an accidental hero once again. Even the other sections on ‘Tinkle Tells you why’, and ‘It happened to me’ were all intact.

 

The memories and incidents associated with Tinkle also rushed to mind – the frequent visit to the book stall after endless tantrums to pick up the latest issue, the dilemma of having to choose just 1 from the hundreds of richly illustrated Amar Chitra Katha on the shelves, the relentless efforts at convincing dad that ‘if he bought me the whole set, he’d never have to buy me anything ever again’ and all the hours spent in reading the comics subsequently.

 

I wonder what childhood would’ve been without Tinkle. I am now waiting for the next issue to visit my childhood again!

 

 

Announcement: Discontinuing update intimations

Who says I ain’t a Roadie – Part 2

Word count: 1827 | Estimated time to read entry: 20 min

Note: This entry is in continuation of  ’Who says I ain’t a Roadie – Part 1‘

 

At the camp:

We stood in line for lunch – you could eat as much as you wanted but the total supply was limited. One person’s greed would mean someone else had to compensate by staying hungry. So I struck a deal with the guys on perpetual diet and requested them to overload their plates and unload it later onto mine. This was one hell of a reality show we were in!

Our tents

Our dwelling conditions were pathetic. The tent was made of crude asbestos sheets supported by wooden posts and thatches, with a flap for entry. There was a bulb and that was the only luxury. The floor was bare earth and all its inhabitants were our uninvited guests. A heavy gust of wind would throw open the flaps and sprinkle us with the surrounding dust.

 

Each tent had around 6-7 occupants and all you could do in the tent was to lie on your belly with your elbows on the ground and chin in your palms, staring at all the other tents’ occupants who were also doing the same thing. A few meters away, there was a huge open tank with a couple of taps and this was the water you could use for anything, including Jai Ho 

A huge lamp on a post lit this entire area at night and people soon discovered that it had a plug and socket for charging mobile phones. Some others discovered that the wind always blew in a very favorable direction at one spot and would be ideal for smoking.

 

Some optimistic chaps exclaimed that the food served was delicious to which I pointed out that after all the hectic tasks we did, any food would taste like ambrosia. But even I had to agree that it was far better than what we got in our mess

 

The temperament of the folks was varied. All of us knew that if we didn’t finish the tasks, we would be sent back again like some of our seniors were, and that meant not one but two weeks in hell. No one had failed twice till date so we didn’t want to even think about it ourselves. There was no question of backing out and most of us did the tasks grudgingly.

 

Some pretended to like it for a while but even they began to detest the tasks as the level of difficulty shifted to top gear. During this, we found great solace in abusing the profs who had planned this and resolved that after passing out, we would arrange a similar Outbound for them all. Fortunately, the group politics was absent and everyone was supportive, perhaps because there was no credit for excelling or out-performing another. It wasn’t a competition so we were all in it together.

 

Cave exploration:

After lunch, we were told that our next task was cave exploration. We got ready with our backpacks and set out with the three trainers. After a good 2km trek on uneven terrain, we again faced another rock but no caves were in sight. Miss commando came forward to quell our curiosity:

One of the "easy" ones we'd climbed

“The cave is inside this rock but entry is on the other side. You have to ascend it and descend half way from the other side to enter it. More instructions after we are at the cave entrance. Move!”

 

This rock was more difficult than the first one we had climbed in the morning. It was steeper and in many spots we had to get on all fours and use our hands for support. We also had to take 3 breaks to catch our breath before reaching the top. Finally, we made it and began the descent. While ascent was tedious, descent was scary. Looking down from some 150+ feet with the wind gushing in your ears is a petrifying feeling. It psyches you out. Every step had to be well chosen because though you wouldn’t fall to your death, you could certainly break an ankle rendering you incapable of doing any tasks further.

 

We arrived at the tip of the cave with zero casualties. I expected it to be an Indiana Jones kinda cave with beams of light streaking from above and a nice deep blue pool of cool water in the centre.  All I saw was a dark pit in the rock, some 15 feet in diameter.

Moments b4 the plunge

“This is the cave, it widens as you go in but not enough for you to stand up. It is more like a tunnel – you got to form a human chain lying down and slide sequentially on your backs. Your feet should be on the shoulders of the person sliding in front of you and he will hold on to your ankles. He will tug at your ankles when it is time to move – and you will do similarly for the guy above you. And that’s the way the chain will move through the cave. The leader goes first and will not have anyone to hold his ankles or direct him”.

“Remember these points”, she continued –

1. There is only one way out of this cave.
2. The cave is wide enough so you can lose your way and can get lost inside.
3. Worse still, you can get isolated inside if you break the chain so never break the chain.
4. If you are on the right track towards the exit, it gets very narrow and you can get stuck.
5. There are bats inside the cave who will fly towards you in hordes if you create a noise so this whole task should be done is absolute silence.
6. The cave is pitch dark and lighters, torches or any source of light is prohibited as it could attract the bats or other creatures towards you.

Happy exploration, one of us will meet you at the exit. So who wants to go first?”

 

I couldn’t believe my ears. This was like my worst nightmare coming true. Imagine sliding on your butt inside a pitch black tunnel with bats and “other creatures” ready to attack you. WTF did anyone even want to try this?

 

Soon we were in the cave holding on to the ankles of the guy above us for dear life. Our eyes grew accustomed to the darkness and the only sound we could hear was the rustle of denim on hard rock as we slid sequentially towards we knew not what.

“Waaaah! I think I have been bitten by a bat….a bat….a bat” echoed a panic-stricken voice from above.

“Shut the f#@# up Mr Batman, don’t make a noise…a noise…a noise”, came a reply.

“I’m stuck here, I can’t move a muscle….too narrow…too narrow…too narrow”.

“Whew! We are on the right track then…then…then”.

 

At the narrowest point, the cave touched our noses as we lay on our backs. We had to force ourselves out of this and the guy below tugged hard at your ankles to help you through. After a lot more acrobatics we saw light below and slid towards it.

 

Having come out of the cave, we had descended only 30% of the rock we had climbed. The remaining descent was before us and after that we had to cross a shallow river, go around the rock and head for the camp to reach our tents – a good 10 km of trekking awaited us. Our jeans were in tatters and so was our spirit.

 

We reached the tent before dark with every muscle aching. The medicine kits were out in full glory and the smell of odomos cream, boroplus, dettol, moov etc was in the air. A couple guys had injured ankles after descent but nothing serious.

 

Over dinner we realized that only 1 day had elapsed and we had to endure 6 more! And on this seemingly easiest day we had climbed 2 moderately difficult rocks and trekked nearly 15km! We decided to take one step at a time and went straight to our tents for some sleep. We were to be back in action very early the following day.

 

Mayday! We are under attack!

We were in a deep slumber when our camp was suddenly attacked by the best stealth bomber in the world – Rain. Angry torrents lashed at the unresisting tents and their confused inhabitants without warning. The flaps did little to prevent the gusts from entering and within minutes we all woke up to the fact that we were under serious attack.

 

The effects of the havoc unleashed were multiple. For one, most roofs started leaking and generous streams of water began to flow in. Secondly, the thatches on the sides got all soggy, thereby wetting our bag of supplies and clothes that were kept against them. Thirdly, all the insects from the earth came out in millions and we saw innumerable ants and worms crawl straight onto our pillows and glucose bottles. Fourthly, the tents were on an embankment just 6 inches from the ground and rain water was fast covering this little height and would soon flood in from the floor up as well. Fifthly, because of the rain the entire terrain and rocks would be rendered slippery, making our tasks more difficult and dangerous.

 

What followed was total chaos – lights were turned on, flaps were held shut, leaks were covered with towels to provide temporary relief, a few got into their boots and jumped all over the tents in an attempt to vanquish the insect army and bags were moved to the center of the tents to be fiercely guarded. As usual, there was a ‘manager’ in every tent who could only give ‘creative suggestions’ but could never implement any thing:

 

“Move the bag there….hold the flaps, hold the flaps….sweep out that water….why don’t you do something?!….stop being an idiot….keep the shoes away from the clothes…..”

 

Tempers flew in every tent very soon and there was utter fracas over all issues – people were shouting at the top of their voices addressing each others’ mothers, sisters and any other female member in the family one could think of. There were some pushes and shoves and the situation was slowly getting out of hand. The group leaders intervened finally, keeping aside their own quarrels, and decided to go to the coordinators’ tents for help.

 

The coordinators had thick nice tents made of canvas that were well furnished with beds, fans etc! They even had the luxury of securely locking their tents as some of them even had a TV. The plea for help was turned down and we were told that we are on our own and the crisis was part of the entire show – it was up to us to manage it and overcome it. We couldn’t even burn down their tents because of the rain and that reminded us that we were all unnecessarily getting wet. We returned to our tents, destroyed every single insect in sight, swept out the water and got ready to resume our sleep. The rain relented and we were soon asleep once again.

Pics Courtesy: Aashish/Nilesh/Lipjo/Paddy

>>To be continued…

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

 

 

The Electronic Knight

Word Count: 187 | Estimated time to read entry: 3 min

Techdom is abuzz with unprecedented hype on the recently announced Google Wave. I decided to go in for the early sign-up and came across a form-field that was unique: Google wants interested signees to write a message for the Google Wave team – which could be a Haiku, a Sonnet or even ASCII art.

I took some time out to write this poem. Each stanza has at least 1 mention of Google (in some form – products, technology used etc) and a rival product. The first 2 instances are provided as hints – see text in bold.

Altogether, there are 6 Google related and 9 competitor related mentions.

How many can you spot?

—

THE ELECTRONIC KNIGHT

The Vista is hazy, obscured by clouds,
Windows hang decrepit, covered in shrouds.

The fading flickr of the dying sun,
Casts a gloomy pic, as a battle unwon.

The walls have crumbled- only scraps remain,
Like a forgotten face, booked for Oblivion.

The pods lie wizened and shatter with a touch,
Their apple-red glow, now androidy as such.

In this midst emerged a rainbow suave,
Bringing back life in a zestful wave.

 

Announcement: Writing for JobeeHive Blog

Guest Post: Booze, Babes & Boogie

This is a Dr. Deltoid Entry. Reader discretion advised!

Word count: 695 | Estimated time to read entry: Consult Dr.Deltoid

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So here goes nothing……………..coming to you straight, bitchy and hard. My virgin entree into the big bad swingin world of Tapmi underbelly. I hereby promise to be your unsolicited guide and somewhat sober companion in demystifying the mundane existence of an average hostelite.

There were three things sacred to an average Tapmian: Booze, Girls and last but definitely not the least, Parties. This particular rant I shall restrict to a highly specialized sub class “Girls in Parties”. 

No Tapmi legend can ever be complete without the “Chakravyuh” of dancing girls. This was an infamous circle comparable to “ring of fire” as the active Volcano Islands in the Pacific are termed. It was pretty impossible for a guy to penetrate this exclusive society unless he slipped on some beer dropped on the floor and happened to stumble in. The poor guy already half drunk would suffer from Abhimanyu complex at the sight of several “Mata Hari’s” rapidly shimmying at high speed around him and couldn’t figure out how to get out. The only hope for the poor sod would be that one of them took pity on him and kicked him hard enough for him to be thrown out. The only other way was to wait for the clock to strike eleven which was the time at which the girls left for hostels. The other guys would just watch helplessly and with a shrug of shoulders, raise a toast to the trapped soul just feeling glad it wasn’t them.

Another interesting species often found was the “invisible drinkers”. These were the girls who could drink to put the best of the guys to shame but were too conscious of their image to do so openly. Hence they would dance changing partners at rapid intervals (obviously preference given to guys drinking vodka) and chug a biggish sip from each. The guy so happy that some female form was dancing with him would be in a trance and totally unaware that his glass was being emptied steadily. Having finished the glass she would move on in search of the next victim.

Then there were the highly beautiful/popular/hot girls referred to as “Draupadis” because quite like their namesake from Mahabharata they would have at least five guys clamouring for their attention at any given point of time. Like a f***in compass, they would just turn with every beat of the song east-south-north- west and so on all night. Obviously if one of the guys was good looking or had promised to help out with the next Operations assignment, the pattern would be east-south-south-south-west-north and so on (yes the guy standing at south being the afore mentioned helpful person).

Another set of girls would be the “Angry Girlfriends Squad”. Now this was a dangerous type because they had come to the party with a one-point-agenda and that was to kick some ass. They would wait and watch until their boyfriends would have maybe one cc drink more than permitted or see him dance with some other female. When this happened, all hell would break lose with consequences varying from “getting drink thrown on face” to “A Kick in the nuts”.

Last but definitely not the least were the “Ultra Drunks” (Not to be confused with invisible drinkers). These were girls who generally never drank but were overcome by some extreme euphoria or depression to pursue this noble crusade. Once drunk it would not take long for the puking to begin and then it would turn into a game of avoiding the dragon’s fire. Like all drunk people, the girl would refuse to believe she was drunk and insist on dancing, stopping at random intervals to shower some lucky winner with “more than her love”.

I think the candle is about to die out and I have done enough damage for one night, it’s time to return to my cave. So adios friends, until next time………… Dasvidaniya.

P.S: to the intelligent reader who can guess the names of all the girls referred to above, a drink awaits at Guzzlers

——–

Opinions expressed in this entry are solely the Guest Writer’s. Read #6 in Disclaimer.

Who says I ain’t a Roadie – Part 1

Word count: 1388 | Estimated time to read entry: 10 min

Incidents described below have been slightly dramatized for the benefit of the non-TAPMI readers and for the sake of bringing interest in the narration.

Photographs used are taken from the “Creative Uncommons” of the TAPMI B2007  esp – Aashish, Nilesh, Paddy & Lipjo and have reached me through various sources.

‘Roadies’ is a teen-centric reality show aired on MTV that requires contestants to endure various tasks ranging from the physically taxing to  the mentally humiliating. Contestants vote out the most undeserving after every episode and the one who lasts wins a cash prize, gizmos and the highly coveted title of ‘The Ultimate Roadie’.

——

 

We were in the toughest part of the MBA – almost drowned in excel sheets and group politics when the profs decided to up the ante against us. It was time for the most dangerous annual ritual that was designed to ‘test our mettle, team skills and how we would manage crisis and predicament under dire circumstances’. It was The Outbound, known to most HR folks as Outbound Learning (OBL). But I am sure even the most sadistic of you won’t be able to fathom the degree of difficulty and peril we underwent.

 

Assembled in the seminar hall, the seniors, who were already toughened by the experience, tried their best to hide their “it’s-your-time-in-hell” smirk but failed miserably. A brief ppt was shown to us about the ensuing ordeal – the location was a specialized outdoor training camp located at the outskirts of Bangalore bordering the Bannerghatta National Park; the place was owned by a firang Guru in saffron with a beard till his balls, escorted by two ferocious dogs; there were not-so-waterproof looking tents for sleeping in, like a refugee camp straight out of a World War II film; we had to stand in line for food despite having paid enough to stay at a decent hotel and no, there was no ‘tent service’; cell phones were forbidden as were cigarettes and liquor; one had to spend 7 days in that camp, complete all the tasks and come back alive if one wanted to receive the MBA degree!

 

The boys and girls went separately because the camp didn’t accept teams that had both in them. We soon guessed that this might be because of the fact that people might behave real dangerous under those trying circumstances… and man, did all of us suddenly feel safe and thankful that the girls of the batch weren’t accompanying us! We had seen enough of their dangerous behavior!

 

After this, we were handed a list of essential items we had to pack if we wanted to survive the ordeal:

 

1. Full sleeved shirts – rugged
2. Rugged jeans
3. Glucose – min 4 large packs
4. Good pair of shoes – good grip
5. Odomos mosquito cream – no coils, no liquid
6. Torches with spare batteries
7. Knife with long handle!
8. Toiletries
9. Medi kit with antiseptic and bandages
10. Bedding – thick blanket essential
11. Stainless steel plate and glass
12. Caps
13. Toilet tissue – big roll
14. Water bottle with sling-on strap

 

Machine guns and napalm bombs were thankfully not in the list. I suddenly felt like I was force-recruited into Napoleon’s army and most people went berserk looking at that list. To calm us down, the wise seniors said, “The camp will be really difficult. You will have to walk through thick bramble and thorny forests, infested with mosquitoes, insects and even wild animals. You won’t have the patience every time to reach out for your bag for getting out your water bottle and you will mostly be walking all days and most nights through hostile environment. Every calorie you conserve or burn will account for your success or failure. Now, you decide”.

 

With this explanation, the items in the list became clear. We had to make a wise choice in loading our bags so as to carry all adequate supplies and yet prevent overburdening ourselves.

 

——-

Initial surprise and Task #1:

 

We had arrived at the camp and were standing to attention in neat files. The business suits, ties and formal attire were all replaced by summer cuts, denim trousers and armor-like shirts. We looked nothing short of a rookie commando training parade. Three camp coordinators were standing a little distance ahead, talking amongst themselves. Clad in full commando camouflage fatigues, sunglasses, caps and boots, the three of them looked like they could bring down our entire 40+ team before we could bat an eyelid. Finally, one of them came forward and addressed us and we were not prepared for the surprise – it was a woman! 40+ pairs of eyes suddenly widened and ran a quick scan but the “camouflage” attire did a good job! She decided not to disappoint us by taking off her…relax!…cap and sunglasses!

 

In a crisp voice, she then said, “Hi, welcome to the camp. In the next few days, you will learn all about various kinds of knots, reading maps, usage of compass, navigation at night, rock climbing, cave exploration, rock descending, river crossing and survival in hostile environment. It will look tough now but it is possible if you think you can. We have had many teams of girls from your senior batches who have done all this very easily…” Each word she said sent a chill down our spine and the last sentence, deliberately added, froze us stiff. I expected her to sign off her speech in traditional commando style – “Mushkil waqt, commando sakht” (Transl: In times of difficulty, a commando plays tough) but instead she asked, “Any doubts??” I bet each of us wanted to ask “HTF does learning this make me a goddamn MBA?” but instead we chose to murmur vaguely to which she shouted,

 

“I DIDN’T HEAR AN ANSWER!”

 

“NO MA’AM”, answered 40+ voices in perfect unison, with half a mind to replace ‘Ma’am’ with ‘you bi###’

 

“That’s better”, she said and flashed an evil grin. “Since today is your first day, we will just go across the camp and return to this spot for lunch”. I soon realized that statements like these were orders and didn’t require any of us smart chaps to say things like ‘Can’t we wait till it gets a tad shadier?’ or ‘Why don’t you just show us a ppt of the camp instead of making us all walk?’

 

The camp was ensconced in natural greenery. The other 2 “commandos”, both men, flanked us and we soon reached a spot which had a series of shacks not far from where our tents were.

 

“This is where you, uh, do your business in the morning”, explained one of them.

 

“Your senior batches have called them the shit pits”, grinned another.

 

There were some 6-8 closets, each containing a deep pit that stank to high heavens due to you-know-what. Toilet tissue was the only savior as water was nearly a km away and the path to the shit pit was so rocky and uneven that half of what you would bring would spill out on the way. I felt like crying out ‘Jai Ho, Rig Rig Ringa…Tu mere saath dance karegi na?’ but Danny Boyle wasn’t auditioning there at that time. 

 

We walked a little further and realized that this seemingly easy task of ‘just going across the camp’ wasn’t as easy as expected. The damn camp contained a hillock twice the height of Eiffel tower, within its perimeter and going across the camp included climbing it too. We started the uphill journey – there were plenty of shrubs and rocks and the ascent wasn’t quite steep so with some effort we reached the top. We were about to take out our glucose water bottles and towels when a voice came from above our heads:

 

“It’s not over folks, you got to reach over here”.

 

Miss commando was standing almost 25 feet above us, on a steep rock that was totally bereft of any footholds, as if it was newly polished.

 

“There are 5 footholds – here, here, here, here and here” said the other.

 

“Oh really, I thought they are ants”, said I. He looked at me and decided to answer my sarcasm with action. Pointing to the “footholds” he climbed up as if he were on an escalator!

 

One by one, we started attempting. Some climbed half way and then slipped down the rock on their bellies and knees, some dug into the rock with their nails to avoid the fall and bled at finger tips and some nimble ones did a good job.

 

Pic Courtesy: Padmanabha "Paddy" Nayak

We had finished our first task and 70% had minor injuries already. The trainers were explaining the nearby vicinity but I was least interested in the view or their instructions as I was busy nursing my fingernail injuries and stocking myself with glucose. All the nitwits had forgotten that the task was only half over yet– we still had to descend the bloody rock and get back to the camp!

———–

PS: B 2007 TAPMIans – please send some good snaps, hopefully with me in it I got 3 more parts of this coming up in the next few days. 

>>To be continued….

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

 

 

The Love of my Life

Word count: 405 | Estimated time to read entry: 6 min

The title would inspire most people to think of a person; few and far are those who would think of an object or animal. And I don’t know what to say for myself as I fall in neither of these categories.  And without taking you on a wild chicken chase like i did here (I love chicken more than goose, you see   ) I candidly declare that the love of my life is – The Afternoon Nap!

The beginning of this habit is lost in slumberous obscurity and I myself can’t recollect when I compulsively fell in love with this habit of catching forty thousand winks in the afternoons. I am known to have slept through most afternoons even during my Class X Board exam prep holidays, much to my parents’ chagrin. At Boarding School, neither class XII Chemistry nor Hindi made any difference in my sleep patterns but yes, Chemistry was a far better soporific than Hindi

It was in fact my afternoon nap that helped me choose my career path. Physics, Chemistry and Math papers of the Karnataka State CET were all scheduled for the morning on different days and only Biology was in the afternoon session. Had it been Math in the afternoon, I would have ended up being a doctor today! And I am proud of my choice because sleeping in Operation Theaters and Dissection Halls of Medical Colleges is far more complicated than sleeping in Air conditioned C++ Lab and Digital Electronics Lab of Engineering Colleges.

The first thing I did after getting into the engineering college hostel was to paste black paper on all the window panes. The room was pitch dark and when I woke up in the night, I sometimes thought I had gone blind because there was no difference between keeping the eyes open or shut. I would skip anything if it clashed with my afternoon nap except perhaps exams. ‘Afternoon Nap’ would even figure on my timetables which I prepared during critical times and irrespective of whether other items in the timetable were on track or not, this one thing would strictly be followed so that at night when I went to bed for more sleep, I had the satisfaction of having followed at least some part of the timetable religiously.

As I said, I permitted nothing to come in between me and my afternoon nap. 2 pm on the clock and i would drop everything … hey it is 2 pm!

Trivia Quiz: Unreal Heroes, Unforgettable Appeal

 

If you have enjoyed reading any or all of the fictional characters mentioned in my previous entry titled ‘Unreal Heroes, Unforgettable Appeal‘, you might want to try your hand at this Trivia Quiz that I compiled. Answer them without Googling or opening the book itself. They are not obscure facts but they are certainly not lame sitters. 

Post your answers as comments below. I don’t expect you to get all of them right, especially the ! marked ones      

 Trivia Quiz:

1. What is George’s surname in ‘The Famous Five’ series?
2. Rastapopoulous is a recurring villainous character in Tintin. What is his (non villainous) profession?
3. In Tinkle, what is the name of the peacock that appears in ‘Kalia the crow’ stories?
4. What is Jughead’s younger sister’s nickname?
5.  What is the name of the motorboat owned by Hardy Boys?
6.  Hercule Poirot frequently employs the services of an expensive but effective person who gets the information he seeks by pretending to collect census and usage data. Name him.  !      
7. What is the Roman currency often mentioned in Asterix series? !
8. The Maharaja of which fictional Indian city hosts Tintin in one of his adventures? !    
9. Poirot has a little-known brother who very much resembles him but for one significant feature. What is it?
10. Nancy Drew title: “The Clue of the Dancing _____________”. Fill the blank. 

So how many did you get??    

 

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