Okies … another quickie !
Flip phones have made a grand comeback into the Indian market with a large number of users going in for these models of phones in India!
Motorola introduced clamshell models ( popularly known as flip phones) in 1996 and they made an entry into India a bit later than that. Initially although such phones did create a buzz in the market, just as the Irridum project did. But ‘flip-phones’ took a beating in the Indian market due to various reasons. The popular reasoning that gained acceptance during that time was that such phones required use of both hands. This was a disadvantage that was seen to be root cause of non-acceptance of the users who, in those times, were mainly business-class.
There were other disadvantage like the form factor, the non-sturdiness and the lack of ease in use, when compared to the normal phones.
Now – it seems all disadvantages are forgotten and there is nobody who does not fancy a flip phone. !!!!!
Mainly due to intelligent marketing by Motorola who wanted to associate their brand to a niche design like the flip phones and also due to the change in the mindset of the users of mobile phones in India.
I am amazed to find that all my classmates from my PG days, after getting a job, the first thng they do is to change their handsets ! Funny, eh! And most of them have gone in for flip phones !!!
I don’t know if they are all trying to make a statement that they are successful and upwardly mobile – a common perception among non-users of flip phones. Whatever be the reason, but it’s a very commonly known fact proven through research, that mobiles phones are perceived to be a fashionable accessory and many people want to show-off their handsets, since they equate it to their status and fashion sense! True – if watches, clothes, caps, spectacles, belts etc can be used to show-off, why not mobile phones !!!!
But all said and done, the disadvantages with the flip phones still stay and are here to stay. Just that people have found a way to justify their more fashionable choice. Nokia would be wondering why they went into designing ’user-friendly’ models !!
As I write this, I can see my friend who passed out with me in college, trying to write something, type something on his PC and also attend to his ringing phone … yeah flip phone… wonder why people who are in sales and other such professions who require to multi-task, go in for such phones when a simple traditional design would have served their purpose much better… maybe there is a reason that I am not able to comprehend.
There are many other friends of mine who too went in for a flip phone as soon as they got a chance to buy a new phone. Now I wonder whether I too will fall into that trap.. after all who does not like to be admired ! But as of now, I can just laugh at all my peers who bought a flip phone and are trying to justify it … he ! he ! he ! What a funny situation !
But Motorola needs to be appreciated for their persistent and intelligent marketing. They used the famous personalities well ! Whoever classified customers as ‘logical’ and impulsive’? All customers are illogical after a certain point of time – read after getting a new job !! he ! he ! he ! I can see at least one of my room-mates getting ready to beat me up for this piece !!!
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
And they call it Green !!
Just another quick one !!
Have you all noticed the way the construction firms name their properties. 'Palm Springs', 'Silver Oak, 'Daffodils, 'Palm Springs', Oasis, 'Green Valley', etc etc...
All of them are everything but that !
What an irony that concrete structures and conceret jungles that we humans create are anything but greeen... There are constructions coming up all around the cities and all the greenery around those plots are being razed to the ground. And yet we have the balls to name the very same building built out of cutting down 50 pine trees as Greenview or a Pine Spring. How ironical !!!
Sample the few projects that are on-going or already constructed in the Garden City
Swanlake, Highlands, Springtime, Sunshine, Oasis, Four Seasons, Greenwoods, Orchid, Jasmine, etc et..
It just seems very funny to me !!! Isn't it?
Have you all noticed the way the construction firms name their properties. 'Palm Springs', 'Silver Oak, 'Daffodils, 'Palm Springs', Oasis, 'Green Valley', etc etc...
All of them are everything but that !
What an irony that concrete structures and conceret jungles that we humans create are anything but greeen... There are constructions coming up all around the cities and all the greenery around those plots are being razed to the ground. And yet we have the balls to name the very same building built out of cutting down 50 pine trees as Greenview or a Pine Spring. How ironical !!!
Sample the few projects that are on-going or already constructed in the Garden City
Swanlake, Highlands, Springtime, Sunshine, Oasis, Four Seasons, Greenwoods, Orchid, Jasmine, etc et..
It just seems very funny to me !!! Isn't it?
Monday, April 28, 2008
Five Point Someones !
Five Point Someone – brings a smile to your face :-) … doesn’t it ? And what about the play ‘Five Point Someone’? Seen it, right? If your answer is no, then I guess you must not be a theatre-goer!
Anyways, I know that there have been enough reviews, comments, posts, articles, etc about the play by Nikhila Kesavam, but still I cannot rest in peace without giving my take on it. Maybe because after all, its about one of the most talked about and most adored books of our times.
It was such a difficult job to suppress my curiosity about how Madras Talkies would present the ‘iconic’ characters and the whole ‘feel’ of the book. While reading the book each one of us must have imagined the Kumaon hostel, the IIT campus, the Insti building rooftop and the characters - to be of a certain nature. I was wondering as to how the director, cast and crew will live up to the hundreds of ‘imaginations’ that the legions of the book’s lovers had weaved in their hearts and minds !!!
Even though it was one of my favourite production houses, Evam, that was producing the play, yet the fact that I had not seen much of Madras Talkies’ works, was the cause of my apprehensions. ( We all know that when we go for an Evam event, we will end up exercising our funny bone. Note to self:- I must make it a point to attend Madras Talkies’ show at the earliest opportunity, since they are the oldest Indian English theatre group)
The Play ( Staged on April 12th, 19:00 hrs, Rangashankara, J P Nagar)
My apprehensions were unfounded! They put up a lively performance. As suspected by yours truly, the play started with “Another brick in the wall” floating across Rangashankara’s magnificent ‘sanctum sanctorum’ and that laid to rest my nervousness since it assured me that the book’s/story’s soul had not been tampered with !
The dialogues were crisp, the pace good and the direction was decent as well. The play was very honest in its adaptation and the director managed to plug all the usual loopholes that creep in when a book is adapted for the stage. The ‘grown-up Hari’ narrating & floating in and out of the present, was really note-worthy especially since he had the audience guffawing most of the times !
BUT…..
I have this sneaky feeling that the play failed to be a ‘classic’. Although it did manage to be a very good value for our money and although it did bring out a very very very nice comfy feel getting out of the hall, yet I feel it missed ‘greatness’ by some way. The plot and the unique characters had the potential to create a humdinger of a play which never was in this case. I think the acting was a reason for this since except for ‘Alok’ ( I refrain from using the actors’ real names) the others were just ordinary in their facial expressions and body movements. Their dialogue delivery is what kept the pace lively since all the characters rendered their dialogues with great gusto and precision.
The Real Actor
Alok’s was undoubtedly the best portrayed character and it was such a new thing for me since the actor managed to endear himself to me and the whole audience to his character. I must admit that it managed to create a fondness in me for him which was not there earlier after reading the book. The actor gave a different dimension to the character by his conspicuous ‘chest heaving’, the fuming and fretting and the spontaneous dialogue delivery. So ‘enthusiastic’ was his dialogue delivery that I, sitting in the first row, had to run for cover everytime he came close to me fearing that his saliva would fall on to me. (chuckle!)
Competent others
The others, Hari and Ryan, were competent but not spectacular. The manner in which the Hari agrees to what Ryan says, even though a few seconds back he was dead against the plan, is not convincing. Ryan on his part doesn’t come off as the ‘cool dude’ as much, but manages to portray his angst and mysterious personality well. It his monotonous and repetitive use of his hands that gave a weariness to the character. But it was his dialogue delivery that was amazingly clear and powerful. His conversations with Alok were splendidly portrayed with a thread of tension and strain running right through Ryan’s body – which betrayed his emotions. And of course the narrator Hari, although in the beginning gives an impression of a poor attempt at innovation, ultimately justifies his element and presence in the play, by dishing out some of the best dialogues and witticism laced with sarcasm ! The professors were of course very well depicted.
The Angelic Tormentor
Now coming to the most important reason that I wrote this post. The character of Neha !
Neha, aaaaaahhhhhhhhh… Neha !!! (sigh ! )
‘The Book Neha’ - She was the magic that kept surprising the readers in the book by Chetan Bhagat. According to me, the ‘book Neha’ was the most complex character of the whole set. She is the reason I love the book so much ! No female character had captured my imagination as much as Neha had done. Her flirtatious nature which she mixed with her revulsion towards ‘other boys of IIT’, he brushes with her father, her talks about ideology, her craving for her brother, her unmindfulness at the stupidity & timidity of Hari’s nature and her unforgettable ‘intimate session’ with Hari in her home when her parents were gone, her loyalty towards Hari even though they were both working in different cities, her way of supporting her family and yet confiding in Hari, her ‘laying off’ and then getting back together with Hari after he cheated her and dragged her into the controversy, her independence and yet dependence on Hari for emotional support although he was not at all emotionally stable himself – all added to the aura around her character. I am sure every one must have had a picture of Neha in their minds. I have created a character of Neha in my mind that has far greater qualities than even Chetan Bhagat sketched in her and this Neha has always tormented me with her guile and passion.
‘The play Neha’ – She disappointed ! :-(
Although she came very close to the appearance of Neha that I had in my imagination, yet her portrayal lacked the depth that the character demanded from the actress. The girl was heavenly beautiful with a very expressive face, yet many a times the expressions were very juvenile in nature. Her exclamations and dialogue delivery lacked the assurance and conviction. It was evident that she was delivering dialogues and not talking naturally. Her sense of timing was also not very good, which was reflected in the luke-warm chemistry between her and Hari. Even the love scenes where Hari holds her and kisses her, and then the way in which she drags him inside – was bereft of the sense of intellect that always accompanies my understanding of the character. Her eyes were not showing the upheaval inside of her. Maybe I will blame the author Chetan Bhagat for having not explored her character even further since she trusted Hari whereas nothing in the whole of the book justifies a supposedly intelligent person like trusting her with her deepest secrets. And hence the actor was caught between portraying an intensely passionate , intelligent girl and a typical teenager who is bubbly and enthusiastic of all that’s happening around her.
In short the ‘stage Neha’ failed to bring out the ‘lovely & mystical Neha’ of the book that I had come to love and long for ! Although beauty-wise, I would rate the ‘stage neha’ to be beyond anybody’s most beautiful imagination since she radiated beauty and love in her every step, every dialogue.
Overall Nikhila Kesavan did a wonderful job of presenting to us a wonderful play that was honest and well thought out. It was fully worth it to come across far and wide to see it. It is a must-watch for everyone especially since it’s a joy to see the characters come alive on stage and its entertainment guaranteed. The most important thing that the play lacked was what we all call in hindi as “thehraav” (stillness). There were some scenes in which a pause here and a lingering there would have created a magical effect on the audience – but sadly that ‘thehraav’ was missing.
Yet I would recommend this play to everyone ! and I mean everyone ! People who have never been to plays, people who do not go to plays much often are the best people to enjoy this play. Even the audience that I saw was not the usual theatre –going bunch of Bangalore, but a huge crowd of ‘Five Point some’ book’s fans and friends etc. For a regular it would have been a novel experience - the constant ‘multiplex like’ murmuring, cheering, clapping etc. which reflected a ‘non-theatre going’ audience since they lacked the basic civilities of a ‘theatre audience’. But who the heck cares when it’s a fun show that is shown since its ultimately about touching your hearts with the plays and making the audience feel nice about the play. And that’s what Madras Talkies along with Evam did. They put up a cheerful, energetic and enthusiastic show that managed to win the hearts of all those who were present and plenty more outside.
My advice to all of you is to catch the play as soon as possible to relive your wonderful moments when you read the book. I am not sure but I think, Evam usually travels to Bangalore ( never missed any of their shows here) and Hyderabad (had read about them performing there when I had been to the city) for their shows apart from their home base in Chennai. But yes, nothing can match the magical ambience of Rangashankara… no, not even Museum theatre, Chennai !
So that’s it from my side. By the way Basheer’s short stories are being adapted to a play called Sangathi Arinya by Paul Mathews and is running in rangashankara. So in case you want to catch some poignant takes on the lives of men and women and their relationships in rural backdrops of Kerala, then go ahead ! Its well worth it. My mom loves Basheer ! Already bought her some 10 books and she manages to finish each in a day. I wish Basheer had written something that went beyond 100 pages. Would save me from the trouble of going to M. G Road ( Bookworm or DC) and scourge for his books to be sent back to Baroda to that voracious reader i.e. my mother ! :-)
He ! He ! He ! :-)I enjoyed writing this post… it is so much fun, criticizing and commenting about others’ creations…. Real test would be when I can manage even half of what all these wonderful artists create. What a wonderful world we live and how amazingly wonderfully different and yet equally enchanting worlds these artists create ! Amazing !
:-)
Anyways, I know that there have been enough reviews, comments, posts, articles, etc about the play by Nikhila Kesavam, but still I cannot rest in peace without giving my take on it. Maybe because after all, its about one of the most talked about and most adored books of our times.
It was such a difficult job to suppress my curiosity about how Madras Talkies would present the ‘iconic’ characters and the whole ‘feel’ of the book. While reading the book each one of us must have imagined the Kumaon hostel, the IIT campus, the Insti building rooftop and the characters - to be of a certain nature. I was wondering as to how the director, cast and crew will live up to the hundreds of ‘imaginations’ that the legions of the book’s lovers had weaved in their hearts and minds !!!
Even though it was one of my favourite production houses, Evam, that was producing the play, yet the fact that I had not seen much of Madras Talkies’ works, was the cause of my apprehensions. ( We all know that when we go for an Evam event, we will end up exercising our funny bone. Note to self:- I must make it a point to attend Madras Talkies’ show at the earliest opportunity, since they are the oldest Indian English theatre group)
The Play ( Staged on April 12th, 19:00 hrs, Rangashankara, J P Nagar)
My apprehensions were unfounded! They put up a lively performance. As suspected by yours truly, the play started with “Another brick in the wall” floating across Rangashankara’s magnificent ‘sanctum sanctorum’ and that laid to rest my nervousness since it assured me that the book’s/story’s soul had not been tampered with !
The dialogues were crisp, the pace good and the direction was decent as well. The play was very honest in its adaptation and the director managed to plug all the usual loopholes that creep in when a book is adapted for the stage. The ‘grown-up Hari’ narrating & floating in and out of the present, was really note-worthy especially since he had the audience guffawing most of the times !
BUT…..
I have this sneaky feeling that the play failed to be a ‘classic’. Although it did manage to be a very good value for our money and although it did bring out a very very very nice comfy feel getting out of the hall, yet I feel it missed ‘greatness’ by some way. The plot and the unique characters had the potential to create a humdinger of a play which never was in this case. I think the acting was a reason for this since except for ‘Alok’ ( I refrain from using the actors’ real names) the others were just ordinary in their facial expressions and body movements. Their dialogue delivery is what kept the pace lively since all the characters rendered their dialogues with great gusto and precision.
The Real Actor
Alok’s was undoubtedly the best portrayed character and it was such a new thing for me since the actor managed to endear himself to me and the whole audience to his character. I must admit that it managed to create a fondness in me for him which was not there earlier after reading the book. The actor gave a different dimension to the character by his conspicuous ‘chest heaving’, the fuming and fretting and the spontaneous dialogue delivery. So ‘enthusiastic’ was his dialogue delivery that I, sitting in the first row, had to run for cover everytime he came close to me fearing that his saliva would fall on to me. (chuckle!)
Competent others
The others, Hari and Ryan, were competent but not spectacular. The manner in which the Hari agrees to what Ryan says, even though a few seconds back he was dead against the plan, is not convincing. Ryan on his part doesn’t come off as the ‘cool dude’ as much, but manages to portray his angst and mysterious personality well. It his monotonous and repetitive use of his hands that gave a weariness to the character. But it was his dialogue delivery that was amazingly clear and powerful. His conversations with Alok were splendidly portrayed with a thread of tension and strain running right through Ryan’s body – which betrayed his emotions. And of course the narrator Hari, although in the beginning gives an impression of a poor attempt at innovation, ultimately justifies his element and presence in the play, by dishing out some of the best dialogues and witticism laced with sarcasm ! The professors were of course very well depicted.
The Angelic Tormentor
Now coming to the most important reason that I wrote this post. The character of Neha !
Neha, aaaaaahhhhhhhhh… Neha !!! (sigh ! )
‘The Book Neha’ - She was the magic that kept surprising the readers in the book by Chetan Bhagat. According to me, the ‘book Neha’ was the most complex character of the whole set. She is the reason I love the book so much ! No female character had captured my imagination as much as Neha had done. Her flirtatious nature which she mixed with her revulsion towards ‘other boys of IIT’, he brushes with her father, her talks about ideology, her craving for her brother, her unmindfulness at the stupidity & timidity of Hari’s nature and her unforgettable ‘intimate session’ with Hari in her home when her parents were gone, her loyalty towards Hari even though they were both working in different cities, her way of supporting her family and yet confiding in Hari, her ‘laying off’ and then getting back together with Hari after he cheated her and dragged her into the controversy, her independence and yet dependence on Hari for emotional support although he was not at all emotionally stable himself – all added to the aura around her character. I am sure every one must have had a picture of Neha in their minds. I have created a character of Neha in my mind that has far greater qualities than even Chetan Bhagat sketched in her and this Neha has always tormented me with her guile and passion.
‘The play Neha’ – She disappointed ! :-(
Although she came very close to the appearance of Neha that I had in my imagination, yet her portrayal lacked the depth that the character demanded from the actress. The girl was heavenly beautiful with a very expressive face, yet many a times the expressions were very juvenile in nature. Her exclamations and dialogue delivery lacked the assurance and conviction. It was evident that she was delivering dialogues and not talking naturally. Her sense of timing was also not very good, which was reflected in the luke-warm chemistry between her and Hari. Even the love scenes where Hari holds her and kisses her, and then the way in which she drags him inside – was bereft of the sense of intellect that always accompanies my understanding of the character. Her eyes were not showing the upheaval inside of her. Maybe I will blame the author Chetan Bhagat for having not explored her character even further since she trusted Hari whereas nothing in the whole of the book justifies a supposedly intelligent person like trusting her with her deepest secrets. And hence the actor was caught between portraying an intensely passionate , intelligent girl and a typical teenager who is bubbly and enthusiastic of all that’s happening around her.
In short the ‘stage Neha’ failed to bring out the ‘lovely & mystical Neha’ of the book that I had come to love and long for ! Although beauty-wise, I would rate the ‘stage neha’ to be beyond anybody’s most beautiful imagination since she radiated beauty and love in her every step, every dialogue.
Overall Nikhila Kesavan did a wonderful job of presenting to us a wonderful play that was honest and well thought out. It was fully worth it to come across far and wide to see it. It is a must-watch for everyone especially since it’s a joy to see the characters come alive on stage and its entertainment guaranteed. The most important thing that the play lacked was what we all call in hindi as “thehraav” (stillness). There were some scenes in which a pause here and a lingering there would have created a magical effect on the audience – but sadly that ‘thehraav’ was missing.
Yet I would recommend this play to everyone ! and I mean everyone ! People who have never been to plays, people who do not go to plays much often are the best people to enjoy this play. Even the audience that I saw was not the usual theatre –going bunch of Bangalore, but a huge crowd of ‘Five Point some’ book’s fans and friends etc. For a regular it would have been a novel experience - the constant ‘multiplex like’ murmuring, cheering, clapping etc. which reflected a ‘non-theatre going’ audience since they lacked the basic civilities of a ‘theatre audience’. But who the heck cares when it’s a fun show that is shown since its ultimately about touching your hearts with the plays and making the audience feel nice about the play. And that’s what Madras Talkies along with Evam did. They put up a cheerful, energetic and enthusiastic show that managed to win the hearts of all those who were present and plenty more outside.
My advice to all of you is to catch the play as soon as possible to relive your wonderful moments when you read the book. I am not sure but I think, Evam usually travels to Bangalore ( never missed any of their shows here) and Hyderabad (had read about them performing there when I had been to the city) for their shows apart from their home base in Chennai. But yes, nothing can match the magical ambience of Rangashankara… no, not even Museum theatre, Chennai !
So that’s it from my side. By the way Basheer’s short stories are being adapted to a play called Sangathi Arinya by Paul Mathews and is running in rangashankara. So in case you want to catch some poignant takes on the lives of men and women and their relationships in rural backdrops of Kerala, then go ahead ! Its well worth it. My mom loves Basheer ! Already bought her some 10 books and she manages to finish each in a day. I wish Basheer had written something that went beyond 100 pages. Would save me from the trouble of going to M. G Road ( Bookworm or DC) and scourge for his books to be sent back to Baroda to that voracious reader i.e. my mother ! :-)
He ! He ! He ! :-)I enjoyed writing this post… it is so much fun, criticizing and commenting about others’ creations…. Real test would be when I can manage even half of what all these wonderful artists create. What a wonderful world we live and how amazingly wonderfully different and yet equally enchanting worlds these artists create ! Amazing !
:-)
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
The turn at full throttle !
At last I crossed the '80-60 barrier'. What is it? well, its riding your bike at 80 Kmph ( atleast ) and taking a 60 degree turn on full throttle !!!
Well, whenever we ride a motorcycle, we slow down while taking a turn. Well, a few weeks back I decide to change that practice. Ever since I have been trying to take steep turns without slowing down. And after a lot many unsuccessful attempts, I managed to do it two weeks back. I rode the bike at 85Kmph and with full throttle, took a steep 60 degree turn.
today I did it again - just to prove to myself that it was not a fluke the last time. The difference is that I did it when it was raining !! he ! he ! he !
Suddenly today on my way back home, it started to pour from the skies ! I was in one of my 'charged up' moods and it didnt take long for the adrenalin to flow through my spine.... the next thing I am doing is speeding down the airport road - the road is slippery and wet, there are petrol spills all around, and the visibility is not very great ! In midst of all this, there descended upon me this foolish urge to go for it. A desire to take that risk... a deep 'pull' from my soul... dunno why such things occur...maybe when you got nothing to lose, your mind does not comprehend the repurcussions of your actions.
Anyways I did it and all the while was shouting at the top of my voice. Purging, ablution, clensing... whatever its called..... but does it help? Maybe
try this stunt out.... it gives you a high, allright ! but yeah if you care for your well-being too much, then forget it.
Well, whenever we ride a motorcycle, we slow down while taking a turn. Well, a few weeks back I decide to change that practice. Ever since I have been trying to take steep turns without slowing down. And after a lot many unsuccessful attempts, I managed to do it two weeks back. I rode the bike at 85Kmph and with full throttle, took a steep 60 degree turn.
today I did it again - just to prove to myself that it was not a fluke the last time. The difference is that I did it when it was raining !! he ! he ! he !
Suddenly today on my way back home, it started to pour from the skies ! I was in one of my 'charged up' moods and it didnt take long for the adrenalin to flow through my spine.... the next thing I am doing is speeding down the airport road - the road is slippery and wet, there are petrol spills all around, and the visibility is not very great ! In midst of all this, there descended upon me this foolish urge to go for it. A desire to take that risk... a deep 'pull' from my soul... dunno why such things occur...maybe when you got nothing to lose, your mind does not comprehend the repurcussions of your actions.
Anyways I did it and all the while was shouting at the top of my voice. Purging, ablution, clensing... whatever its called..... but does it help? Maybe
try this stunt out.... it gives you a high, allright ! but yeah if you care for your well-being too much, then forget it.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
The Tequila Sunrise !!!
All the ‘panchatatvas’ of Nature ( Fire, Water, Air, Sky & Earth) have got this mysterious quality to them. No wonder then that nature has always been the playground for the mystics around the world. For me it’s always been the sky that captures my imagination among all the five. Of course Fire comes a close second.
That Sunday when I stepped out of the train at Chennai station, I was a bit different from all the other passengers who were also alighting. I was not in a hurry at all. Leisurely I walked down the platform while the rest were jostling and hustling to get their luggage and kids in order. All of them had a place to go to…. I didn’t ! at 4:30 am when you land up in a city where you do not have any place to go to, then its not the best of situations that you are in and it doesn’t take an Einstein to figure that out.
Anyways. I made my way to the outside and immediately the familiar, damp & warm air of the city filled my nostrils. I inhaled the air that had filled every pore of my body for two months when I was there a couple of years back. The city had helped me realize some truths about life and had seen my transformation.
Whenever I come to Chennai I pay a visit to the beach – either Marina or Elliot's. So where did this vagabond land up when he had no place else to go to at that early hour? – yes, the beach. Took a bus and was on my way to the beach. Travelling in the bus you can see the ‘gallis’ of Chennai where the womenfolk would be drawing the ‘kalams’ with the rice batter early in the mornings. The grayish-orangish light streams of the dawn, performing a tango ( tamilian version ) with the ‘Vishnu sahastranamam’ chants wafting seamlessly in the atmosphere. The ‘mullapoov’ (jasmine) adorning the women in their just washed hair… with even the water drops still sparkling from their lovely mane and once in a while dropping on to the back of their blouses, dampening the cloth and mixing with the sweat of Chennai, creating a smell that just is intoxicating !
I get down mid-way and decide to walk. That’s much better. This way I can observe each and every detail. There are some men who are up ( Chennai is a city of early risers) and are getting ready for their morning walks. I thought to myself “Aaah, now I can see something different too” . Then I could see the women all sitting near the door of their houses and sipping their coffee, taking small break from the back-breaking work that they need to get back to in a short while. Have ever noticed women closely while they are sipping their teas/coffees? I always do. There is a serenity that envelopes them, their faces lose their wrinkles, the eyes become more expressive and soft, the eye-lashes blink less and there are long periods of ‘staring into nothingness’. Its the quality that the women have, of prioritizing their thoughts, unlike us men who never seem to switch off. Even in college, sitting in the canteen, sipping our teas, I would stare at those ‘pauses’- if only one could read into those ‘pauses’ !!
Anyways, we are digressing… hmmm… so taking this cue from them, I move on to my destination, ready to submit myself to the forces or the lack of it !
The Marina beach in the mornings – a sight worthy of the trip. I had expected to see the vast sand since I assumed it wont be crowded at 5 am. But then in this country, it would be only a fool who would make such assumptions ! The beach was crowded. No, not with the usual families and children running around enjoying the beach, but with the homeless. To wherever my eyes could scan, there were people who were sleeping on the sand, some covering themselves in blankets and some without. They were sleeping in ones, twos and threes. This is not the sight that I was expecting. These days I have sometimes got this calmness around me when I am confronted with such sights. I instead of feeling all worked up, started to slowly weave my way in between the bodies scattered on the sand. An old man sleeping alone clutching his tattered bag, a well dressed man who had just woken up and was arranging his ‘bed’, three women maybe from the same family lying together – all three are lying with their backs down and are wide awake, talking something like those girls who have slumber parties when they crash at one of their friends’ place and giggle, chatter or sob late into the night. Also small kids sleeping in between their parents, and surprisingly a young couple, deep in sleep in each other’s arms. But the single men outnumbered the rest. These must be typically migrants from neighbouring towns and villages who in the day time make their living in & around the beach and crash on the sand-bed in the night. What a life ! I wonder and plug in the i-pod into my ears. Thank god Golu lent it to me for the trip !
I am listening to Eagles and make my way into the water. Like they show in the movies… I walk across the waterfront, leaving my footprints over the wet sand, only to see the water come and wash them away. The water lashed on to my feet and for once my ‘strong footballer feet’ act like a grandmom’s. The feet jump, scream and flinch at the touch of the water…. I let my feet play with the water and the sand and divert my eyes at the skyline. The sky !
Usually all of us associate the term – ‘vast’ with the sky. We say, “Look, how vast the sky is!!” I always blurt out…. “Look, how ‘paavam’ the sky is !!” I don’t know why I feel like that. I have yet to figure it out. I started to feel like this about the sky when I used to stare at the western sky in Ettimadai campus of Amrita School of Business – when I used to stand on the topmost floor of the building and stare at the sky while taking a break from some work that I was doing.
The sky over the waters, was starting to turn orange, pink and violet mixed with the grey. I was tempted to read the shapes that were being formed by the clouds. Dragons, ships, tiger, axe etc etc are the shapes that we all usually make out of the clouds… isn’t it? Well, all I could see was clouds… no shapes, no meaning…. I have always lacked the ability to read the skies, read the clouds and make a story out of it. Maybe that’s why the sky has always been so mysterious to me. I see Mr. Shivamani , the acclaimed drummer from Chennai, squatting on the water while the camera was taking shots of him. He was playing on the water, patting the water when it came in waves, and creating some musical effect from it. Maybe he was shooting for a video or for a commercial … I just like a man in a daze walk right in between him and the camera. He stares at me, but does not say anything… he just looks at me curiously. The camera man also does not say any expletives as I had thought he would. But just stands there waiting for me to move away. I start to wonder…. “ Am I looking like a ghost to them ?”
Anyways I move away, find an empty boat and plonk myself on to its edge. Sitting there I stare at the ocean, the sun slowly rising, the sky turning into orange, the ‘sleepers of the sand’ slowly waking up, the drummer trying to invoke his creativity, the joggers exercising their muscles, the salty air turning more and more warm and the vagabond sitting on the boat, smiling as he listens to the Eagles crooning “ Tequila Sunrise”….
Its another tequila sunrise
Starin slowly cross the sky, said goodbye
He was just a hired hand
Workin on the dreams he planned to try
The days go by
Evry night when the sun goes down
Just another lonely boy in town
And shes out runnin round
She wasnt just another woman
And I couldnt keep from comin on
Its been so long
Oh, and its a hollow feelin when
It comes down to dealin friends
It never ends
Take another shot of courage
Wonder why the right words never come
You just get numb
Its another tequila sunrise,this old world
Still looks the same,
Another frame, mm...
That Sunday when I stepped out of the train at Chennai station, I was a bit different from all the other passengers who were also alighting. I was not in a hurry at all. Leisurely I walked down the platform while the rest were jostling and hustling to get their luggage and kids in order. All of them had a place to go to…. I didn’t ! at 4:30 am when you land up in a city where you do not have any place to go to, then its not the best of situations that you are in and it doesn’t take an Einstein to figure that out.
Anyways. I made my way to the outside and immediately the familiar, damp & warm air of the city filled my nostrils. I inhaled the air that had filled every pore of my body for two months when I was there a couple of years back. The city had helped me realize some truths about life and had seen my transformation.
Whenever I come to Chennai I pay a visit to the beach – either Marina or Elliot's. So where did this vagabond land up when he had no place else to go to at that early hour? – yes, the beach. Took a bus and was on my way to the beach. Travelling in the bus you can see the ‘gallis’ of Chennai where the womenfolk would be drawing the ‘kalams’ with the rice batter early in the mornings. The grayish-orangish light streams of the dawn, performing a tango ( tamilian version ) with the ‘Vishnu sahastranamam’ chants wafting seamlessly in the atmosphere. The ‘mullapoov’ (jasmine) adorning the women in their just washed hair… with even the water drops still sparkling from their lovely mane and once in a while dropping on to the back of their blouses, dampening the cloth and mixing with the sweat of Chennai, creating a smell that just is intoxicating !
I get down mid-way and decide to walk. That’s much better. This way I can observe each and every detail. There are some men who are up ( Chennai is a city of early risers) and are getting ready for their morning walks. I thought to myself “Aaah, now I can see something different too” . Then I could see the women all sitting near the door of their houses and sipping their coffee, taking small break from the back-breaking work that they need to get back to in a short while. Have ever noticed women closely while they are sipping their teas/coffees? I always do. There is a serenity that envelopes them, their faces lose their wrinkles, the eyes become more expressive and soft, the eye-lashes blink less and there are long periods of ‘staring into nothingness’. Its the quality that the women have, of prioritizing their thoughts, unlike us men who never seem to switch off. Even in college, sitting in the canteen, sipping our teas, I would stare at those ‘pauses’- if only one could read into those ‘pauses’ !!
Anyways, we are digressing… hmmm… so taking this cue from them, I move on to my destination, ready to submit myself to the forces or the lack of it !
The Marina beach in the mornings – a sight worthy of the trip. I had expected to see the vast sand since I assumed it wont be crowded at 5 am. But then in this country, it would be only a fool who would make such assumptions ! The beach was crowded. No, not with the usual families and children running around enjoying the beach, but with the homeless. To wherever my eyes could scan, there were people who were sleeping on the sand, some covering themselves in blankets and some without. They were sleeping in ones, twos and threes. This is not the sight that I was expecting. These days I have sometimes got this calmness around me when I am confronted with such sights. I instead of feeling all worked up, started to slowly weave my way in between the bodies scattered on the sand. An old man sleeping alone clutching his tattered bag, a well dressed man who had just woken up and was arranging his ‘bed’, three women maybe from the same family lying together – all three are lying with their backs down and are wide awake, talking something like those girls who have slumber parties when they crash at one of their friends’ place and giggle, chatter or sob late into the night. Also small kids sleeping in between their parents, and surprisingly a young couple, deep in sleep in each other’s arms. But the single men outnumbered the rest. These must be typically migrants from neighbouring towns and villages who in the day time make their living in & around the beach and crash on the sand-bed in the night. What a life ! I wonder and plug in the i-pod into my ears. Thank god Golu lent it to me for the trip !
I am listening to Eagles and make my way into the water. Like they show in the movies… I walk across the waterfront, leaving my footprints over the wet sand, only to see the water come and wash them away. The water lashed on to my feet and for once my ‘strong footballer feet’ act like a grandmom’s. The feet jump, scream and flinch at the touch of the water…. I let my feet play with the water and the sand and divert my eyes at the skyline. The sky !
Usually all of us associate the term – ‘vast’ with the sky. We say, “Look, how vast the sky is!!” I always blurt out…. “Look, how ‘paavam’ the sky is !!” I don’t know why I feel like that. I have yet to figure it out. I started to feel like this about the sky when I used to stare at the western sky in Ettimadai campus of Amrita School of Business – when I used to stand on the topmost floor of the building and stare at the sky while taking a break from some work that I was doing.
The sky over the waters, was starting to turn orange, pink and violet mixed with the grey. I was tempted to read the shapes that were being formed by the clouds. Dragons, ships, tiger, axe etc etc are the shapes that we all usually make out of the clouds… isn’t it? Well, all I could see was clouds… no shapes, no meaning…. I have always lacked the ability to read the skies, read the clouds and make a story out of it. Maybe that’s why the sky has always been so mysterious to me. I see Mr. Shivamani , the acclaimed drummer from Chennai, squatting on the water while the camera was taking shots of him. He was playing on the water, patting the water when it came in waves, and creating some musical effect from it. Maybe he was shooting for a video or for a commercial … I just like a man in a daze walk right in between him and the camera. He stares at me, but does not say anything… he just looks at me curiously. The camera man also does not say any expletives as I had thought he would. But just stands there waiting for me to move away. I start to wonder…. “ Am I looking like a ghost to them ?”
Anyways I move away, find an empty boat and plonk myself on to its edge. Sitting there I stare at the ocean, the sun slowly rising, the sky turning into orange, the ‘sleepers of the sand’ slowly waking up, the drummer trying to invoke his creativity, the joggers exercising their muscles, the salty air turning more and more warm and the vagabond sitting on the boat, smiling as he listens to the Eagles crooning “ Tequila Sunrise”….
Its another tequila sunrise
Starin slowly cross the sky, said goodbye
He was just a hired hand
Workin on the dreams he planned to try
The days go by
Evry night when the sun goes down
Just another lonely boy in town
And shes out runnin round
She wasnt just another woman
And I couldnt keep from comin on
Its been so long
Oh, and its a hollow feelin when
It comes down to dealin friends
It never ends
Take another shot of courage
Wonder why the right words never come
You just get numb
Its another tequila sunrise,this old world
Still looks the same,
Another frame, mm...
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Ethical Dilemma !
A quick post from my side again - Now this ethical dilemma stuff are pretty interesting to me. Consider this.
You are parking your vehicle in a parking place and the security guard charges you Rs. 10 /- but does not give you the receipt for it. What do you do?
Well, I am quite a believer in honesty and doing the right things. So I usually stand up to something unfair that is happening around me and always try not to break any rules. Many in Bangalore abide by the rules and also are quite sensitive by nature. I mean Bangalore has people who have a more humanistic view of happenings around them. So we Bangaloreans many a times take pride in adhering to the rules. So the natural tendency for me was to ask for receipt from the fellow since I did not want to be a party to someone who was cheating his employer of money.
But then I remembered what Preetham ( my friend from Hyderabad ) had taught me last June. I have written about him and my learning from him in a previous post in this blog. I started thinking " What harm will happen if this guy takes that 10/- note? Anyways this money is going to the super-rich owner of the mall. Will that ten bucks not help that poor chap who has a family to support? With the inflation raising upto 7.4% levels, will it not have affected that chap's daily subsistence?"
That security chap was apprehensive if I would ask ticket or not? He would have immediately given me the ticket if I had asked for it even once , that I am sure of. So since he was not all that bad a person, then why should I mind him earning an extra buck if that ensures that his child gets the 'pencil box' that he always wanted?
Is it not true that we only bargain and haggle when we are dealing with 'economically backward' people in our society? Why do we mind them getting a few rupees extra when we do not mind the pub owners, coffee shop owners, the branded clothing outlet owners getting hundreds of bucks extra for something whose cost price might be 100 times lesser than the retail price?
But again I was left thinking whether I was encouraging the security fellow to continue being dishonest? Afterall he was not doing the right thing , was he?
I would be then aiding in a honest fellow turning to be a petty fellow swindling his employers.!!!
Difficult for me.... any answers please? This disturbs me a bit... and I face it in many places !!
What do I do ....? Its an ethical dilemma !!
You are parking your vehicle in a parking place and the security guard charges you Rs. 10 /- but does not give you the receipt for it. What do you do?
Well, I am quite a believer in honesty and doing the right things. So I usually stand up to something unfair that is happening around me and always try not to break any rules. Many in Bangalore abide by the rules and also are quite sensitive by nature. I mean Bangalore has people who have a more humanistic view of happenings around them. So we Bangaloreans many a times take pride in adhering to the rules. So the natural tendency for me was to ask for receipt from the fellow since I did not want to be a party to someone who was cheating his employer of money.
But then I remembered what Preetham ( my friend from Hyderabad ) had taught me last June. I have written about him and my learning from him in a previous post in this blog. I started thinking " What harm will happen if this guy takes that 10/- note? Anyways this money is going to the super-rich owner of the mall. Will that ten bucks not help that poor chap who has a family to support? With the inflation raising upto 7.4% levels, will it not have affected that chap's daily subsistence?"
That security chap was apprehensive if I would ask ticket or not? He would have immediately given me the ticket if I had asked for it even once , that I am sure of. So since he was not all that bad a person, then why should I mind him earning an extra buck if that ensures that his child gets the 'pencil box' that he always wanted?
Is it not true that we only bargain and haggle when we are dealing with 'economically backward' people in our society? Why do we mind them getting a few rupees extra when we do not mind the pub owners, coffee shop owners, the branded clothing outlet owners getting hundreds of bucks extra for something whose cost price might be 100 times lesser than the retail price?
But again I was left thinking whether I was encouraging the security fellow to continue being dishonest? Afterall he was not doing the right thing , was he?
I would be then aiding in a honest fellow turning to be a petty fellow swindling his employers.!!!
Difficult for me.... any answers please? This disturbs me a bit... and I face it in many places !!
What do I do ....? Its an ethical dilemma !!
Airplane tags - Why do we keep them ?
One Doubt ...
We see many people carrying bags with airline tags hanging from it, dont we? Tags of Kingfisher, Indian, Spicejet, Jet etc et. I find it utterly despicable. I would be irritated to have a useless tag around my bag that keep poking my nape.
Why do people not remove them as soon as they are out of the airport. They remove all other stickers but let the elastic cord tag to be on their hand bags. There are people who will carry those bags with those tags around for many a days after their air travel. Isn't it just ridiculous ?
Is it to show-off that you travelled by airplane? Now come on.... how can people be so naive and so childish. I started noticing this queer phenomenon about two and half years back when one of my classmates after flying back to college from home, carried around his bag with the Paramount airlines tag around it for many many months. ( i think he never removed it thereafter )
After that I have never failed to notice this whenever I see any hand-bag. funny, eh?
There are so many frequent travellers, some of them have this irritating habit and some do not. I remember when I travelled by airplane for the very first time, I immediately removed the tag as soon as I got out of the airport - I found it irritating and very repulsive. As if it was putting a sticker on to your self and endorsing some brand for free. So cheeesy !!!! yuck !!!
Even today a few minutes back I saw a lady carrying a beautiful hand-bag ( and I do know a thing or two about the quality and aesthetics of hand-bags ;-) ). Now the whole look of the bag was spoilt by that irritating "kingfisher" tag on it. I thought to myself, " How can you spoil the look of such a beautiful bag by such naivety?"
Have you all not noticed this phenomenon? What do you think about the real reason for this? It just never ceases to amuse me !!!
We see many people carrying bags with airline tags hanging from it, dont we? Tags of Kingfisher, Indian, Spicejet, Jet etc et. I find it utterly despicable. I would be irritated to have a useless tag around my bag that keep poking my nape.
Why do people not remove them as soon as they are out of the airport. They remove all other stickers but let the elastic cord tag to be on their hand bags. There are people who will carry those bags with those tags around for many a days after their air travel. Isn't it just ridiculous ?
Is it to show-off that you travelled by airplane? Now come on.... how can people be so naive and so childish. I started noticing this queer phenomenon about two and half years back when one of my classmates after flying back to college from home, carried around his bag with the Paramount airlines tag around it for many many months. ( i think he never removed it thereafter )
After that I have never failed to notice this whenever I see any hand-bag. funny, eh?
There are so many frequent travellers, some of them have this irritating habit and some do not. I remember when I travelled by airplane for the very first time, I immediately removed the tag as soon as I got out of the airport - I found it irritating and very repulsive. As if it was putting a sticker on to your self and endorsing some brand for free. So cheeesy !!!! yuck !!!
Even today a few minutes back I saw a lady carrying a beautiful hand-bag ( and I do know a thing or two about the quality and aesthetics of hand-bags ;-) ). Now the whole look of the bag was spoilt by that irritating "kingfisher" tag on it. I thought to myself, " How can you spoil the look of such a beautiful bag by such naivety?"
Have you all not noticed this phenomenon? What do you think about the real reason for this? It just never ceases to amuse me !!!
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Delirium - Blabberings of a feverish mind and body
Delirium ----- when each and every part of your body aches, when you cannot figure out whether it is day or night, when you close your eyes you see nightmares, when you open your eyes you see ghosts, when you do not have any control over your tongue and blabber our unimaginable sentences, when you do not have any control over who you are messaging and whom you are mailing, when you do not have any control over what you are blogging, when you feel like the most sinful person in the whole wide world, when you feel betrayed by the very persons whom you trusted, when you feel guilty as well as a martyr, when you have such a mixture of emotions that you cry and laugh at the same time, when you feel alone, when you feel deprived, when you feel weak, when you struggle for the grip over your life,when you do things against what your friends tell you, when you think you have friends but a deeper introspection says otherwise, when you feel like having been tossed around like a cabbage piece in a salad, when you know that the temperature that you are running for the past 2 days is just a sign of the obvious, when you are away from the biggest ravager of your life and still cannot hate - that what is called love... pure and blissful, a feeling not enjoyed by many. Lucky are the ones who are in this phase. I am in that. Pain never felt so welcome.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
coz' there are times when you don't even have the right questions to ask
I had read a story in my 7th standard class text – The Hitchhiker ( part 1 and part 2 ). It was about a hitchhiker ( duuuhhh …!! ) who used to pick people’s pockets while they were driving. It was a joyful piece replete with witty dialogues between the hitchhiker and the drivers. But our ultra serious teacher made it very difficult for us by narrating us stories of how hithikers loot people of their belongings and how dangerous it is to give a ‘lift’ to anybody these days ( rather those days )
My relative gave me a sense of dejavu when she too started narrating how dangerous Bangalore had become off late with roadside robberies and loot. They used to warn me about venturing out late in the night and giving ‘lifts’ to people, etc but then when you are young and restless, there is very little that you do not want to experience. So typically her words just had to travel the small distance between my right ear and left ear which most of the times is just vacuum.
I encounter so many strange sorts of people in my daily life, that sometimes I just wonder if God consciously could create so much variation in this world. Don’t we all come across such characters – people who truly make us stand up and take notice, people who just amaze you with their unique characteristics, people who just take your breath away with their actions/beauty/brains/presence. Yes, we all see them and sometimes we wish that we could even know them.
On my way to office each day, I see them standing in the roads at various places, showing their thumbs toward the motorists zipping across them. The expressive face of my relative used to flash in front of my eyes whenever I used to see these hitchhikers. I was adamant in obeying her guidelines until Arun happened. I have written about the Arun incident in an earlier post. Any ways… it became a regular affair this – of giving a ride to people on my bike whenever they used to ask for one while I was on my way to office. The only criteria was that the person should look decent. Says Smart Alec, “ It take so much time to find out whether a person is decent or not. How can one decide in a few seconds.” To this I have only one reply – that I just let my heart decide on looking at him/her once whether he/she deserves the lift and also whether that person is in genuine need of a lift.
On some days, I give as many as 3 to 4 lifts within a span of half an hour or so.
I met them on one of those days when I was as usual zipping on my way to office. The elder was about 8 years old and the younger about 4-5 years old. Both were standing on the roadside when they asked for a lift. I was amused that a small girl like her was showing her thumb and asking for a ride with a tilt of her head, like they show in the movies. There was no decision for me to make. I asked them to hop on and they gleefully jumped on to my bike. The small girl sat in between me and her sister, and she clutched my tummy tightly. Although her tiny little fingers had not seen the nail-cutter in ages, what caught my attention was the shape of her fingers. So beautiful and exquisite were here fingers, that’s how God makes these kids. They are so beautiful and fresh when they are small. Her fingers wrapped around me and slowly she tightened her grip, such that her fingers were crumpling the perfect ironing of my shirt. Everytime an oncoming vehicle came close to ours, or every time there was a risky and wayward maneuver that I made, I could feel her fingers tighten around me. And as soon as the danger was averted, she would relax her grip. Her mouth would be glued to my back as she pressed her face into my shirt. This was the way she was clinging on to me and I could make out how scared she was of travelling on the bike. Neverthless, I dropped them at the junction of their school and could only faintly hear the elder sister shouting a “ thank-you uncle” to me.
I did not hear it because I was too dazed with the experience. I realized how beautiful the feeling was when I felt the tightening of her fingers around me, how she had the trust and faith in me a total stranger, to be sitting on my bike. That’s when I felt that I would miss this. Miss this feeling of having kids with me, this feeling of responsibility, this feeling of being trusted with someone’s life, this feeling of total faith, this feeling of closeness with innocence. That’s when I realized how a decision that I had taken for the rest of my life was going to make me sacrifice me such simple and elementary pleasures of a man’s life.
The next day I saw them again and this time again I just stopped my bike even before the girl could start her ‘bollywoodesque’ hitch hiking gestures. Anyways again both of them clung on to me as if they would to their dear life. It always made me feel as if I was a Moto GP biker who was riding at 200 Mph and taking 90 degree turns on my bike. I looked at the speedometer… “ am I going too fast..naah… just 40 kmph… am I riding too rough?... maybe I should not sway my bike so much, maybe they are feeling uncomfortable….etc etc.” Then on my riding started to get dictated by what I assumed to be the girls’ comfort factors. I was talking to myself and chiding myself everytime the little lady’s fingers tightened across my stomach. Not the least for spoiling my ironed shirt, but for the anxiety that I was making her go through.
It soon became a routine – I would pick them up everyday from that same spot and drop them again at their school junction. I never made an attempt to always be there at the same time since my household chores took up a considerable time in the mornings. But I used to meet them atleast 3 times a week. The rest of the days I used to offer lifts to other school going children. I stopped giving lifts to grown-ups since I was enjoying the company of their tiny-tots. I knew there would be some kid or the other on the way ahead and so used to refuse giving lifts to even elderly people ( of course I made exception in case the person in question was really old or tired ).
Once when those two girls were again waiting for me, I offered the little girl a seat on the petrol tank of my bike in the front side. She readily nodded her head and I helped her on. Now her sister was happy since she did not have to keep the kindergarten mickey mouse bag from rubbing into her nostrils. She could now sit in peace at the back. The little one used to every now and again creen her neck and look up at me with her brown eyes and then again peer at the traffic ahead. Well, I have this habit of blowing kisses to anyone who shouts at me on the road. For e.g once when I cut across a car and forced him to brake suddenly on the middle of the road, he started to abusing me and insulting me saying how irresponsible the ‘software people ‘ were, and how even after being educated we did not obey traffic rules.. etc etc.. All true. So I out of my mischief just blew a kiss to him and winked. Our little lady saw that and started aping me whenever I had to brake or stop suddenly. To my consternation she started doing it to even women vehicle rider/drivers. I made angry faces at her, rolled my eyes and shook my head vigorously to make her understand that she should not do it. But that little devil would not understand. I forcibly asked her to sit at the back to punish her and prevent her from doing it again.
Well, then I didn’t see the sisters for many days after that and I started wondering what happened. I for a couple of days even waited at the same spot to see if they were being late and the next two days came early to check that possibility out as well. But to no avail. I had started missing them now. Although I was giving lifts to other kids, still my eyes were constantly searching for those two girls. Then one day one of my colleagues happened to notice a mark at the back side of the shirt toward the bottom part. It was maroonish-brownish-orangish sort of a mark. I said, “Must be some bird dropping or some stain of that sort.” She retorted, “ Bird dropping do not leave a stain. And to me this looks like a blood stain. I think you bled and that why that stain. I am pretty sure about it. “. “ Don’t be silly. How can I bleed from my back, of all places ! come on ! “ said I and continued peering into my computer. Then slowly I started to recollect as to when was the last time I wore this shirt. Yes, the day when I last met those two girls. I was wondering how that stain had come over there on my shirt… and slowly I realized a horrifying thought. It was her !
The tiny little angel who gave me reason to smile everyday on my way to office. She bled from her mouth ! And now when I want to know what happened to them I have realized another strange little truth… I had never spoken anything to those girls in those 3 months of our ‘friendship’. Heck, I didn’t even know their names !!
Strange are the ways in which God gives hope and then we loose that hope due to our own folly.
“ yet each man kills that he loves …. “
My relative gave me a sense of dejavu when she too started narrating how dangerous Bangalore had become off late with roadside robberies and loot. They used to warn me about venturing out late in the night and giving ‘lifts’ to people, etc but then when you are young and restless, there is very little that you do not want to experience. So typically her words just had to travel the small distance between my right ear and left ear which most of the times is just vacuum.
I encounter so many strange sorts of people in my daily life, that sometimes I just wonder if God consciously could create so much variation in this world. Don’t we all come across such characters – people who truly make us stand up and take notice, people who just amaze you with their unique characteristics, people who just take your breath away with their actions/beauty/brains/presence. Yes, we all see them and sometimes we wish that we could even know them.
On my way to office each day, I see them standing in the roads at various places, showing their thumbs toward the motorists zipping across them. The expressive face of my relative used to flash in front of my eyes whenever I used to see these hitchhikers. I was adamant in obeying her guidelines until Arun happened. I have written about the Arun incident in an earlier post. Any ways… it became a regular affair this – of giving a ride to people on my bike whenever they used to ask for one while I was on my way to office. The only criteria was that the person should look decent. Says Smart Alec, “ It take so much time to find out whether a person is decent or not. How can one decide in a few seconds.” To this I have only one reply – that I just let my heart decide on looking at him/her once whether he/she deserves the lift and also whether that person is in genuine need of a lift.
On some days, I give as many as 3 to 4 lifts within a span of half an hour or so.
I met them on one of those days when I was as usual zipping on my way to office. The elder was about 8 years old and the younger about 4-5 years old. Both were standing on the roadside when they asked for a lift. I was amused that a small girl like her was showing her thumb and asking for a ride with a tilt of her head, like they show in the movies. There was no decision for me to make. I asked them to hop on and they gleefully jumped on to my bike. The small girl sat in between me and her sister, and she clutched my tummy tightly. Although her tiny little fingers had not seen the nail-cutter in ages, what caught my attention was the shape of her fingers. So beautiful and exquisite were here fingers, that’s how God makes these kids. They are so beautiful and fresh when they are small. Her fingers wrapped around me and slowly she tightened her grip, such that her fingers were crumpling the perfect ironing of my shirt. Everytime an oncoming vehicle came close to ours, or every time there was a risky and wayward maneuver that I made, I could feel her fingers tighten around me. And as soon as the danger was averted, she would relax her grip. Her mouth would be glued to my back as she pressed her face into my shirt. This was the way she was clinging on to me and I could make out how scared she was of travelling on the bike. Neverthless, I dropped them at the junction of their school and could only faintly hear the elder sister shouting a “ thank-you uncle” to me.
I did not hear it because I was too dazed with the experience. I realized how beautiful the feeling was when I felt the tightening of her fingers around me, how she had the trust and faith in me a total stranger, to be sitting on my bike. That’s when I felt that I would miss this. Miss this feeling of having kids with me, this feeling of responsibility, this feeling of being trusted with someone’s life, this feeling of total faith, this feeling of closeness with innocence. That’s when I realized how a decision that I had taken for the rest of my life was going to make me sacrifice me such simple and elementary pleasures of a man’s life.
The next day I saw them again and this time again I just stopped my bike even before the girl could start her ‘bollywoodesque’ hitch hiking gestures. Anyways again both of them clung on to me as if they would to their dear life. It always made me feel as if I was a Moto GP biker who was riding at 200 Mph and taking 90 degree turns on my bike. I looked at the speedometer… “ am I going too fast..naah… just 40 kmph… am I riding too rough?... maybe I should not sway my bike so much, maybe they are feeling uncomfortable….etc etc.” Then on my riding started to get dictated by what I assumed to be the girls’ comfort factors. I was talking to myself and chiding myself everytime the little lady’s fingers tightened across my stomach. Not the least for spoiling my ironed shirt, but for the anxiety that I was making her go through.
It soon became a routine – I would pick them up everyday from that same spot and drop them again at their school junction. I never made an attempt to always be there at the same time since my household chores took up a considerable time in the mornings. But I used to meet them atleast 3 times a week. The rest of the days I used to offer lifts to other school going children. I stopped giving lifts to grown-ups since I was enjoying the company of their tiny-tots. I knew there would be some kid or the other on the way ahead and so used to refuse giving lifts to even elderly people ( of course I made exception in case the person in question was really old or tired ).
Once when those two girls were again waiting for me, I offered the little girl a seat on the petrol tank of my bike in the front side. She readily nodded her head and I helped her on. Now her sister was happy since she did not have to keep the kindergarten mickey mouse bag from rubbing into her nostrils. She could now sit in peace at the back. The little one used to every now and again creen her neck and look up at me with her brown eyes and then again peer at the traffic ahead. Well, I have this habit of blowing kisses to anyone who shouts at me on the road. For e.g once when I cut across a car and forced him to brake suddenly on the middle of the road, he started to abusing me and insulting me saying how irresponsible the ‘software people ‘ were, and how even after being educated we did not obey traffic rules.. etc etc.. All true. So I out of my mischief just blew a kiss to him and winked. Our little lady saw that and started aping me whenever I had to brake or stop suddenly. To my consternation she started doing it to even women vehicle rider/drivers. I made angry faces at her, rolled my eyes and shook my head vigorously to make her understand that she should not do it. But that little devil would not understand. I forcibly asked her to sit at the back to punish her and prevent her from doing it again.
Well, then I didn’t see the sisters for many days after that and I started wondering what happened. I for a couple of days even waited at the same spot to see if they were being late and the next two days came early to check that possibility out as well. But to no avail. I had started missing them now. Although I was giving lifts to other kids, still my eyes were constantly searching for those two girls. Then one day one of my colleagues happened to notice a mark at the back side of the shirt toward the bottom part. It was maroonish-brownish-orangish sort of a mark. I said, “Must be some bird dropping or some stain of that sort.” She retorted, “ Bird dropping do not leave a stain. And to me this looks like a blood stain. I think you bled and that why that stain. I am pretty sure about it. “. “ Don’t be silly. How can I bleed from my back, of all places ! come on ! “ said I and continued peering into my computer. Then slowly I started to recollect as to when was the last time I wore this shirt. Yes, the day when I last met those two girls. I was wondering how that stain had come over there on my shirt… and slowly I realized a horrifying thought. It was her !
The tiny little angel who gave me reason to smile everyday on my way to office. She bled from her mouth ! And now when I want to know what happened to them I have realized another strange little truth… I had never spoken anything to those girls in those 3 months of our ‘friendship’. Heck, I didn’t even know their names !!
Strange are the ways in which God gives hope and then we loose that hope due to our own folly.
“ yet each man kills that he loves …. “
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