One of my desktop files, this is what helps me get through the toughest of times. Really does. And I hope it does the same to you. One of the most powerful set of lines I've ever read ....
If you can keep your head when all about you
: Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
: If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
: But make allowance for their doubting too;
: If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
: Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
: Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
: And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
: If you can dream -- and not make dreams your master;
: If you can think -- and not make thoughts your aim;
: If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
: And treat those two imposters just the same;
: If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
: Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
: Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
: And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;
: If you can make one heap of all your winnings
: And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
: And lose, and start again at your beginnings
: And never breathe a word about your loss;
: If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
: To serve your turn long after they are gone,
: And so hold on when there is nothing in you
: Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
: If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
: Or walk with kings -- nor lose the common touch,
: If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
: If all men count with you, but none too much;
: If you can fill the unforgiving minute
: With sixty seconds' worth of distance run --
: Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
: And -- which is more -- you'll be a Man, my son!
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
A cigarette a day, keeps the police away!
This was on the 4th of October. I was on my way back to Hyderabad from Coorg to make it for my high school alumni meet. I was at the Majestic Railway Station in Bangalore and was about to catch a bus to the airport when I decided to take a smoke. Now I am a law abiding citizen. Being fully aware of the smoking laws, I walked all the way out of the station, out on to the main road, around half a kilometre away and lit up. It was around 5 30 in the morning. There was a slight drizzle in the air and around 20 people around. "Cigarette off!" a loud voice bellowed. I turned around knowing who it was, and said "Ok" and took one final drag before chucking the stick. "Government order not read?" I had to give it to this guy when it came to identifying outsiders in one's own country.
"Which state?"
"Andhra Pradesh" I answered.
He started in broken Telugu trying to say that smoking had been banned in the country since 2nd October and now anyone violating the law had to pay a fine. I tried telling him that the road was a public place and an open area (and what I was doing was in no way unlawful) but it was clear that this imbecile knew only to speak and not listen. So I asked him what the fine was going to be and he said it was 500 rupees! Now we all know that the fine is 200. I even tried telling him that but he told be that it was 200 if I personally went to the court and deposited the amount. If I were paying up to the police, I had to shell out 500! I had my man :D.
I told him I would pay him 500 only if he gave me a challan for that amount. He said I would have to go to the police station for that. I checked the time and calculated that I had close to 4 hours in hand and agreed. We started walking and he was telling me I better be careful in a city I didn't know and stuff like that. We walked for around half a kilometre into a somewhat deserted street when he asked "You want pay fine here or station?" This was my chance. "Now I will pay only at the station and I will even tell your boss you asked me for a bribe!" I shouted. He took a while to comprehend. Then said "All that no need, pay fine here" I was livid. I walked up to him close enough to smell his breath. I was a good 3 inches taller than him and used it to my advantage in giving him the stare. "Where the fuck is your station!?!" I screamed. He was unsure now. He said " No need station". "Where is it?!!", I shouted again.
He started backing away now, little by little. Good for him as I really was in a good mind to knock him out cold with a right hook and be on my way. By the time he recovered I'd be on the plane. But he backed away and as he hurried away out of sight said "No need anything, no need anything." I just stood there for a while savouring the moment before I lit myself another smoke. Aaah it was heavon.
On a more serious note, study this new law carefully. Screwed up as it is, it's got quite a few loopholes. Ramadoss may be a good doctor but an absolute fool when it comes to legislation. Smoking may be harmful but it'll kill you only if you live long enough. Besides, it's curable by cancer.
cheers
"Which state?"
"Andhra Pradesh" I answered.
He started in broken Telugu trying to say that smoking had been banned in the country since 2nd October and now anyone violating the law had to pay a fine. I tried telling him that the road was a public place and an open area (and what I was doing was in no way unlawful) but it was clear that this imbecile knew only to speak and not listen. So I asked him what the fine was going to be and he said it was 500 rupees! Now we all know that the fine is 200. I even tried telling him that but he told be that it was 200 if I personally went to the court and deposited the amount. If I were paying up to the police, I had to shell out 500! I had my man :D.
I told him I would pay him 500 only if he gave me a challan for that amount. He said I would have to go to the police station for that. I checked the time and calculated that I had close to 4 hours in hand and agreed. We started walking and he was telling me I better be careful in a city I didn't know and stuff like that. We walked for around half a kilometre into a somewhat deserted street when he asked "You want pay fine here or station?" This was my chance. "Now I will pay only at the station and I will even tell your boss you asked me for a bribe!" I shouted. He took a while to comprehend. Then said "All that no need, pay fine here" I was livid. I walked up to him close enough to smell his breath. I was a good 3 inches taller than him and used it to my advantage in giving him the stare. "Where the fuck is your station!?!" I screamed. He was unsure now. He said " No need station". "Where is it?!!", I shouted again.
He started backing away now, little by little. Good for him as I really was in a good mind to knock him out cold with a right hook and be on my way. By the time he recovered I'd be on the plane. But he backed away and as he hurried away out of sight said "No need anything, no need anything." I just stood there for a while savouring the moment before I lit myself another smoke. Aaah it was heavon.
On a more serious note, study this new law carefully. Screwed up as it is, it's got quite a few loopholes. Ramadoss may be a good doctor but an absolute fool when it comes to legislation. Smoking may be harmful but it'll kill you only if you live long enough. Besides, it's curable by cancer.
cheers
Childhood II - Channa-choor
For Diya -
It was the winter of 1993, except Madras has no winter. I was 7 years old, my sister, 5 and a half. So it was the winter of '93. Our cousins were visiting us. Jethu (the elder brother of my father), Jethi (his wife) and my two cousins Diya and Doyel. Diya is elder to me by 6 months and was taller by as many inches at that time. She also had amazing strength which multiplied in geometric progessions when she was enraged. Her short-fused temper did not help anything either. So it was only natural that we got into quite a few scuffles in our time, I with my irritating nature and she, with her temper. Apart from her temper of course, she had long nails which she had learnt to use quite adeptly. I was thus, a little careful to keep on the right side of the fence, having got mauled on quite a few occassions. But then there is this bug in my head, which just can't live without causing me to get into trouble. It makes me say the most outrageous things in the worst of times, makes me do things that drives the last nail into coffins thus closing out things that had a half chance of happening. Anyway, it was this bug that earned me yet another beating. It was my fault of course, having started it the night earlier. I was chasing Diya around the house when she manged to lock me out and was looking at me through the keyhole. In my frustration, I spat through the keyhole.... and ran away. Next time I saw her she was fast asleep.
The next day went by rather uneventful until we had guests visiting in the evening. Ma had served refreshments and among them was a bowl full of delicious looking channa choor. I managed to take a pinch and put it in my mouth to realize it was the hottest thing I had ever eaten. I had to rush to the wash-basin and hold my tongue under the tap to actually calm myself. That followed by 2 glasses of cold water made it possible to compose myself a little. My tongue was still throbbing from the extreme stimulation it had been through. In such a state of unease, a kid would normally withdraw himself and look for his mother but not I. The genius that I think myself to be immediately came up with an idea that was the best of that century.
I walked up to Diya and told her "Have you tasted the channa-choor Ma has served the guests? It is the best ever! She saves it only for the guests because its so rare. Now is your chance to eat some! I just did! Darooon channa-choor!" She looked at me unsuspectingly - that is one trait she has even today. She is absolutely genuine and believes all people around are just like her. She nodded and started walking towards where the guests were seated. I was so excited! Ahhhh! Lamb to the Slaughter! I had to control myself from running up to her and telling her how I had fooled her! But not yet. I was almost too afraid to watch actually. I hid behind a wall, with only my eyes peeping from around the corner. I saw her walk up to the table, take a whole handful, thats right, one handful of the stuff and put it directly into her mouth. She then stood there for a second, unmoved, the expression on her face not changing even a twich and then quietly started chewing as she sat beside her mother and listened to the conversation in the room. I was baffled at first and then very very disappointed. I just could not conceive any reason why the plan didn't work! It was fool-proof, except that it had Diya in it (these are the thoughts I had back then, not now). How could it have failed? The feeling of disappointment then turned to grief - was I such a sissy that I had been put off by a pinch of chana-choor that was perhaps, not so hot? Diya had just eaten a mouthful without moving a brow!
But just like most things at that age, it went out of my mind by the time I was walking to my bed after dinner. That was when I found out the hard way, how well my plan had worked. All of a sudden I found myself looking at the ceiling instead of in front. That was because someone had got hold of my scalp and pulled my head backwards. From the nails digging into my head, I knew at once it was Diya. I flailed my arms around, failing to make contact. Then I found 4 fingers streak across my cheek. I screamed. Our parents came rushing out to seperate us. All I heard Diya shout something that sounded like "Jhaal Chana-choor!". It could have been and I'm sure that it would have been worse had our parents not rescued me.
It was not before the next day that our parents discovered the truth and had a good laugh about it. Years later I felt a little bad for Diya and how hard done she had been back then, our parents had had a laugh about it instead of rightfully spanking me. But that takes nothing away from the absolute thrill I get when I remind myself of my brilliant, almost fool-proof plan!
It was the winter of 1993, except Madras has no winter. I was 7 years old, my sister, 5 and a half. So it was the winter of '93. Our cousins were visiting us. Jethu (the elder brother of my father), Jethi (his wife) and my two cousins Diya and Doyel. Diya is elder to me by 6 months and was taller by as many inches at that time. She also had amazing strength which multiplied in geometric progessions when she was enraged. Her short-fused temper did not help anything either. So it was only natural that we got into quite a few scuffles in our time, I with my irritating nature and she, with her temper. Apart from her temper of course, she had long nails which she had learnt to use quite adeptly. I was thus, a little careful to keep on the right side of the fence, having got mauled on quite a few occassions. But then there is this bug in my head, which just can't live without causing me to get into trouble. It makes me say the most outrageous things in the worst of times, makes me do things that drives the last nail into coffins thus closing out things that had a half chance of happening. Anyway, it was this bug that earned me yet another beating. It was my fault of course, having started it the night earlier. I was chasing Diya around the house when she manged to lock me out and was looking at me through the keyhole. In my frustration, I spat through the keyhole.... and ran away. Next time I saw her she was fast asleep.
The next day went by rather uneventful until we had guests visiting in the evening. Ma had served refreshments and among them was a bowl full of delicious looking channa choor. I managed to take a pinch and put it in my mouth to realize it was the hottest thing I had ever eaten. I had to rush to the wash-basin and hold my tongue under the tap to actually calm myself. That followed by 2 glasses of cold water made it possible to compose myself a little. My tongue was still throbbing from the extreme stimulation it had been through. In such a state of unease, a kid would normally withdraw himself and look for his mother but not I. The genius that I think myself to be immediately came up with an idea that was the best of that century.
I walked up to Diya and told her "Have you tasted the channa-choor Ma has served the guests? It is the best ever! She saves it only for the guests because its so rare. Now is your chance to eat some! I just did! Darooon channa-choor!" She looked at me unsuspectingly - that is one trait she has even today. She is absolutely genuine and believes all people around are just like her. She nodded and started walking towards where the guests were seated. I was so excited! Ahhhh! Lamb to the Slaughter! I had to control myself from running up to her and telling her how I had fooled her! But not yet. I was almost too afraid to watch actually. I hid behind a wall, with only my eyes peeping from around the corner. I saw her walk up to the table, take a whole handful, thats right, one handful of the stuff and put it directly into her mouth. She then stood there for a second, unmoved, the expression on her face not changing even a twich and then quietly started chewing as she sat beside her mother and listened to the conversation in the room. I was baffled at first and then very very disappointed. I just could not conceive any reason why the plan didn't work! It was fool-proof, except that it had Diya in it (these are the thoughts I had back then, not now). How could it have failed? The feeling of disappointment then turned to grief - was I such a sissy that I had been put off by a pinch of chana-choor that was perhaps, not so hot? Diya had just eaten a mouthful without moving a brow!
But just like most things at that age, it went out of my mind by the time I was walking to my bed after dinner. That was when I found out the hard way, how well my plan had worked. All of a sudden I found myself looking at the ceiling instead of in front. That was because someone had got hold of my scalp and pulled my head backwards. From the nails digging into my head, I knew at once it was Diya. I flailed my arms around, failing to make contact. Then I found 4 fingers streak across my cheek. I screamed. Our parents came rushing out to seperate us. All I heard Diya shout something that sounded like "Jhaal Chana-choor!". It could have been and I'm sure that it would have been worse had our parents not rescued me.
It was not before the next day that our parents discovered the truth and had a good laugh about it. Years later I felt a little bad for Diya and how hard done she had been back then, our parents had had a laugh about it instead of rightfully spanking me. But that takes nothing away from the absolute thrill I get when I remind myself of my brilliant, almost fool-proof plan!
Thursday, September 11, 2008
umberella man
Do you know what's more irritating than being sent on an out-station assignment without prior notice, while your classes are on? It is getting stuck in a downpour while you're on that assignment and the people who sent you there think all is well. Bombay has always been one of my favourite places but that claim was really put to the test the day before yesterday. I had woken up at 4 that morning, caught a flight that was delayed by an hour and a half, worked all day and was trying to get back to the guest house (15 minutes walk) when I discovered it was pouring so heavily that it was hard to see what was in front. I tried calling the driver of the car which had transported us from the airport to the office earlier that day but he (quite obviously) was not reachable. My friends at the client office could not come up with a better solution than a 'call taxi' which would take at least two hours to reach where we were. So my friend and I decided to try our luck with an auto. The fact that they hardly agree to some destination which is just 2 kms away was not very encouraging but the heavy downpour set-off the effect of any such facts. We waited for twenty minutes, for an auto to drive by the lobby of the bulding, which was around 20 metres from the main road before we realized it wasn't going to happen. We hopped on to the main road, right under the rain, out of sheer desperation. My friend, who is with me on this assignment had managed to find shelter under a huge beach umberella of this guy selling omlettes. He was constantly pestering me to join him under the umberella even though both of us knew there was no place there for even the bacteria that was cooking in those omlettes. I was drenched to my bone marrow. Since things couldn't get worse, I decided to stay where I was.
If India wants to host the 2020 Summer Olympic Games, I suggest Bombay is THE city that should host it. I mean, have you seen the competitive spirit of the people here?!! Everytime I managed to holler an autorickshaw, out popped a zorro, or a spiderman or a catwoman, as atheletic as the comic book characters and hopped right into the rick while muttering where they wanted to go. They didn't care what the driver had to say! Once they were in, they were in. After such a thing happened for the fourth time I realized all I was doing was hollering autos for them as they stood under the shelter of some tree. My friend was having quite a laugh at all this though. Please do not blame me for losing it at this point, because the moment I realized my leather shoes were wet, I lost it! It was nothing else, not the rain, not the people, nothing else. Just my shoes. I started walking, in the opposite direction of my guest house. I didn't want an auto anymore, I didn't want to go back to the guest house anymore, I didn't even want to go to a restaurant to eat. I just wanted an umberella. There was a Ganesh procession headed towards the beach which I passed and they were chanting "Ganapati Bappa Moriya!!" and that was when, my faith in God and myself was reinstated in all it's power. I prayed to the almighty that he give me an umberella as he had given me this downpour to start with... on I walked, convinced I was going to find an umberella. Sure enough, I walked into "Madhuri Collections", dripping wet, and enquired with the old man at the counter
"Bhai sahb, chhatri hai?" (Do you sell umberellas, sir?)
He started laughing at me, it must have seemed strange to him as to why I was asking for an umberella when I was soaked already. He handed one to me and asked
"yeh chalega ki aur mehnga waala chahiye?" (Will this do you need something costlier?)
I had not even enquired about the price until then.
"Kitne ka hai?" (how much) I asked. And this is why I have named this post so :
"Sau Rupiya" (100 Rupees)
"Bahut zyaada hai!!" (that is too much!)
"Baahar baarish bhi bahut zyaada hai" (so is the downpour outside)
I laughed, because I didn't know what to do and replied "Arey dekho dekho! abhi thoda kam ho gayaa hai!!" (look! the rainfall has slowed down a little too!)
"Assi rupay de do" (give me 80 rupees)
I bought two, for a hundred and fifty, feeling cheated, I opened my new umberella and cursed it. Before leaving, I asked that old man his name, which got him quite perplexed. I did it just so that I could caution you all against him. His name is Ratnakar. So if you meet a guy selling umberellas and his name is Ratnakar, please wait till the rain recedes a little so you could get a better bargain.
My friend had called me around 5 times by then but I never picked up. I walked back to where he was standing, absolutely dry and threw one umberella at him. "Tu bhi hero ban gaya re!" (now, you're a hero too!) he said. I knew he meant it when he told me about how much verbal abuse he'd had to face from that guy selling omlettes because he didn't buy one. So there I was, walking under an umberella, for the first time in 15 years, my faith in myself stronger than ever and my faith in God, stronger still. I didn't even catch a cold the next day. I still love coming to Bombay and now that I have an umberella, bring on the rains!
If India wants to host the 2020 Summer Olympic Games, I suggest Bombay is THE city that should host it. I mean, have you seen the competitive spirit of the people here?!! Everytime I managed to holler an autorickshaw, out popped a zorro, or a spiderman or a catwoman, as atheletic as the comic book characters and hopped right into the rick while muttering where they wanted to go. They didn't care what the driver had to say! Once they were in, they were in. After such a thing happened for the fourth time I realized all I was doing was hollering autos for them as they stood under the shelter of some tree. My friend was having quite a laugh at all this though. Please do not blame me for losing it at this point, because the moment I realized my leather shoes were wet, I lost it! It was nothing else, not the rain, not the people, nothing else. Just my shoes. I started walking, in the opposite direction of my guest house. I didn't want an auto anymore, I didn't want to go back to the guest house anymore, I didn't even want to go to a restaurant to eat. I just wanted an umberella. There was a Ganesh procession headed towards the beach which I passed and they were chanting "Ganapati Bappa Moriya!!" and that was when, my faith in God and myself was reinstated in all it's power. I prayed to the almighty that he give me an umberella as he had given me this downpour to start with... on I walked, convinced I was going to find an umberella. Sure enough, I walked into "Madhuri Collections", dripping wet, and enquired with the old man at the counter
"Bhai sahb, chhatri hai?" (Do you sell umberellas, sir?)
He started laughing at me, it must have seemed strange to him as to why I was asking for an umberella when I was soaked already. He handed one to me and asked
"yeh chalega ki aur mehnga waala chahiye?" (Will this do you need something costlier?)
I had not even enquired about the price until then.
"Kitne ka hai?" (how much) I asked. And this is why I have named this post so :
"Sau Rupiya" (100 Rupees)
"Bahut zyaada hai!!" (that is too much!)
"Baahar baarish bhi bahut zyaada hai" (so is the downpour outside)
I laughed, because I didn't know what to do and replied "Arey dekho dekho! abhi thoda kam ho gayaa hai!!" (look! the rainfall has slowed down a little too!)
"Assi rupay de do" (give me 80 rupees)
I bought two, for a hundred and fifty, feeling cheated, I opened my new umberella and cursed it. Before leaving, I asked that old man his name, which got him quite perplexed. I did it just so that I could caution you all against him. His name is Ratnakar. So if you meet a guy selling umberellas and his name is Ratnakar, please wait till the rain recedes a little so you could get a better bargain.
My friend had called me around 5 times by then but I never picked up. I walked back to where he was standing, absolutely dry and threw one umberella at him. "Tu bhi hero ban gaya re!" (now, you're a hero too!) he said. I knew he meant it when he told me about how much verbal abuse he'd had to face from that guy selling omlettes because he didn't buy one. So there I was, walking under an umberella, for the first time in 15 years, my faith in myself stronger than ever and my faith in God, stronger still. I didn't even catch a cold the next day. I still love coming to Bombay and now that I have an umberella, bring on the rains!
Monday, August 25, 2008
golb rorrim
disclaimer : the contents of this post are restricted to it's readers only.
You would probably have to be Bengali to understand fully well, the meaning of Maha Ashtami, the eigth day of Dussera. It is the day when the festivities find a feverish high, truly deserving of the great Mahotsav. It would be the day a bong would want to celebrate most, even more so when he has travelled some distance only for Dussera. So I, being another run of the mill Bengali, would be expected to be where everyone else was, with other Bongs. With all these thoughts running in my head, I was asking myself if it was worth the trouble at all, while I was puffing away in the auto. It couldn't be as bad as the previous time I thought, at least we weren't meeting up at a Marwari restaurant that served vegetarian continental food. The venue this time was Raintree Park, Chennai (give it a try, especially the terrace ;) ). For the record, I was meeting Shreya (name changed) for dinner, terrace. My parents must have been wondering about what had made me skip Ashtami, my explanation sounded not even remotely close to real, as real it was. They knew who Shreya was, thanks to the countless messages that we used to send each other back then but theycouldn't understand why I was away on Ashtami. Anyway, I was crossing the road when I called my friend (formerly a chat friend but now we just quarrel) to ask her if she had reached. I was running fifteen minutes late already but she told me she'd be there in 10 (phew). I went up to the restaurant, beautiful it was, and enquired about a reservation. I called her again 10 minutes later when she told me she was at the lobby.
That place must be the tallest building in the world, wonder why I didn't notice or; maybe she just took the stairs because she was there 20 minutes later. I tried weakly to put up my best smile and was asked if I was drunk....... She was her usual though (from the 2 times that we'd met previously). Elegant, at ease,.... then she interrupted my thoughts with her loud voice. "Are you drunk Beda?! Are you?!" Now how would you not get thrown off by something like that? I didn't know what to say... I must have had my mouth open because she repeated that question 3 more times before we sat down. The next thing she asked was if I wanted to change seats. Life depends a lot on anticipation. But how does one be ready for such questions given the situation? She was the one who had booked the table and they always ask you what kinda table you want. The place was empty, save a couple of tables. Anyway, she told me I was looking smart! I wanted to say something too but didn't really want to be brushed off for being genuine. Its quite strange how I do not remember a single word from any of the conversations we've had when we met. What I remember was that she asked me if I wanted to smoke and ordered for cigarettes. We were seated by the edge of the terrace (its called the ledge). You know, it was a beautiful evening, I mean the skies, lit up with lightning and fireworks, a light drizzle and then came the food. I think it was a Bruschetta (spelling changed) and something else I don't remember the name of (hint: everyone else in Chennai calls it pongal). We were smoking my least favourite brand of cigarettes (I don't even know why she puts up such a show about smoking coz she clearly looks like someone smoking for the first time...and thats everytime). I was being hussled to speak (which I was failing miserably at doing), forced to eat the really mysterious food..this post is leading nowhere because I don't remember the conversation (perhaps the mirror image will be helpful). Its quite a thing that you meet a random person through an unreal medium these days and actually end up getting along quite well. I enjoyed talking about nothing, even though she never believes me when I say that. Anyway, I was made to eat against my will for the first time since I had recovered from chicken pox 10 years ago. I did. Those of you who know her probably know that you would have too. We were walking on the road right next to the hotel after dinner and again talking about godknowswhat. As much as I fail to remember the conversations, I know I wasn't bored. We were looking for an auto, two actually when she called home and informed me that her mother would pick her up. So we stood there for a while waiting for her mother. She then told me I should leave. Because her mother would be there soon. She hustled me into an auto and waved me goodbye. I waved too! I didn't quite want to go but I did (content here has been edited due to the mutual disagreement of the parties involved that I had left her stranded in the middle of the road at 11 o clock in the night in spite of me wanting to wait and even trying to persuade her into waiting at the lobby when she'd made it quite clear that she wanted me gone).
On the way back, I got the same thought as the one I had got after each one of our meetings (even though they keep getting worse).
I wished it had lasted just a little longer.
please check the mirror image of this post for an absolute fabrication of my account :
http://bloggingforinsanity.blogspot.com/2008/08/mirror-blog.html
You would probably have to be Bengali to understand fully well, the meaning of Maha Ashtami, the eigth day of Dussera. It is the day when the festivities find a feverish high, truly deserving of the great Mahotsav. It would be the day a bong would want to celebrate most, even more so when he has travelled some distance only for Dussera. So I, being another run of the mill Bengali, would be expected to be where everyone else was, with other Bongs. With all these thoughts running in my head, I was asking myself if it was worth the trouble at all, while I was puffing away in the auto. It couldn't be as bad as the previous time I thought, at least we weren't meeting up at a Marwari restaurant that served vegetarian continental food. The venue this time was Raintree Park, Chennai (give it a try, especially the terrace ;) ). For the record, I was meeting Shreya (name changed) for dinner, terrace. My parents must have been wondering about what had made me skip Ashtami, my explanation sounded not even remotely close to real, as real it was. They knew who Shreya was, thanks to the countless messages that we used to send each other back then but theycouldn't understand why I was away on Ashtami. Anyway, I was crossing the road when I called my friend (formerly a chat friend but now we just quarrel) to ask her if she had reached. I was running fifteen minutes late already but she told me she'd be there in 10 (phew). I went up to the restaurant, beautiful it was, and enquired about a reservation. I called her again 10 minutes later when she told me she was at the lobby.
That place must be the tallest building in the world, wonder why I didn't notice or; maybe she just took the stairs because she was there 20 minutes later. I tried weakly to put up my best smile and was asked if I was drunk....... She was her usual though (from the 2 times that we'd met previously). Elegant, at ease,.... then she interrupted my thoughts with her loud voice. "Are you drunk Beda?! Are you?!" Now how would you not get thrown off by something like that? I didn't know what to say... I must have had my mouth open because she repeated that question 3 more times before we sat down. The next thing she asked was if I wanted to change seats. Life depends a lot on anticipation. But how does one be ready for such questions given the situation? She was the one who had booked the table and they always ask you what kinda table you want. The place was empty, save a couple of tables. Anyway, she told me I was looking smart! I wanted to say something too but didn't really want to be brushed off for being genuine. Its quite strange how I do not remember a single word from any of the conversations we've had when we met. What I remember was that she asked me if I wanted to smoke and ordered for cigarettes. We were seated by the edge of the terrace (its called the ledge). You know, it was a beautiful evening, I mean the skies, lit up with lightning and fireworks, a light drizzle and then came the food. I think it was a Bruschetta (spelling changed) and something else I don't remember the name of (hint: everyone else in Chennai calls it pongal). We were smoking my least favourite brand of cigarettes (I don't even know why she puts up such a show about smoking coz she clearly looks like someone smoking for the first time...and thats everytime). I was being hussled to speak (which I was failing miserably at doing), forced to eat the really mysterious food..this post is leading nowhere because I don't remember the conversation (perhaps the mirror image will be helpful). Its quite a thing that you meet a random person through an unreal medium these days and actually end up getting along quite well. I enjoyed talking about nothing, even though she never believes me when I say that. Anyway, I was made to eat against my will for the first time since I had recovered from chicken pox 10 years ago. I did. Those of you who know her probably know that you would have too. We were walking on the road right next to the hotel after dinner and again talking about godknowswhat. As much as I fail to remember the conversations, I know I wasn't bored. We were looking for an auto, two actually when she called home and informed me that her mother would pick her up. So we stood there for a while waiting for her mother. She then told me I should leave. Because her mother would be there soon. She hustled me into an auto and waved me goodbye. I waved too! I didn't quite want to go but I did (content here has been edited due to the mutual disagreement of the parties involved that I had left her stranded in the middle of the road at 11 o clock in the night in spite of me wanting to wait and even trying to persuade her into waiting at the lobby when she'd made it quite clear that she wanted me gone).
On the way back, I got the same thought as the one I had got after each one of our meetings (even though they keep getting worse).
I wished it had lasted just a little longer.
please check the mirror image of this post for an absolute fabrication of my account :
http://bloggingforinsanity.blogspot.com/2008/08/mirror-blog.html
Friday, June 20, 2008
of bulls and bullies
‘Chutiya!’ My friend laughed, when he was told what this little boy could do. We stood there for a while watching him, one really had to pay attention to just notice the rather unassuming little fellow sitting on a log chewing a neem stick. The fact that he could not speak further helped in giving the impression that he wasn’t there at all because he was so….quiet. Dusty feet, nay dusty legs….unkempt hair, a really soiled shirt – a glance at him and one could easily conclude there wasn’t anything about him that could actually make an impression. We also knew (not that it was difficult to figure out) he was from the poorer side of the village, the part inhabited by the servants of my friend’s grandfather. But such hasty conclusions would be drawn by someone who missed looking into his eyes. It is invariably the case that the absence of one sense organ naturally improves another. This chap was born deaf which meant he would never learn to pronounce anything which automatically made him ‘dumb’. But dumb was definitely not the picture his eyes painted. They were narrow, light and sharp! Transparent but gave away nothing. His face gave away nothing. Those eyes would just bear down upon you and leave you wondering what he must be thinking about you…something you would never know! Not that it was important to us at that time anyway. We were brash 15 year olds and one of us practically owned the whole village. Our sense of superiority would never allow us to wonder about what an illiterate, poor and handicapped boy was thinking. ‘He really can do it!’ bellowed Prabha. Prabha was the son of the gardener who was taking us around the village. He had taught us to pelt stones at the passing trains earlier that morning. We had had a whale of a time doing that until we got tired, and then we beat him up accusing him of teaching us a ‘bad’ thing. The fact that my friend (and I at times) treated him like an absolute animal never deterred him from his usual behavior, which was expected of a rustic such as him. Anyway, he was nothing too important, not in the context of this incident or in the context of anything existent.
‘He will do it for you! He likes you two!’ Prabha interrupted my thoughts again. I was trying to find a sign of affection in his face when Prabha made a gesture and he nodded. The deal was this – there was this bull that had apparently gone wild with the coming of the mating season and nobody to mate with. It had almost killed one man and destroyed considerable amount of property as a result of which it was now kept in isolation, in an area considered sufficient for it and this was expected to calm it down. This attempt was clearly failing as the animal remained just as fierce even after a week. What this little fellow was going to do was get into the compound which had the bull, run to the boundary wall on the other end and make a mark on it. The bull did not take too kindly to anyone even setting foot into the compound, let alone marking on his territory; so the boy had to dodge and outrun the bull to get to the entrance of the compound which had to be shut by us once he was out. A mere look at the bull scared us; it was a powerful creature, the short and stout type, so the idea of this ‘stunt’ was really thrilling. Our participation in this scheme was a little beyond an audience. We had to lure the bull to one corner of the compound so that the feat could be performed and then open, shut and bolt the heavy gate of the compound – a feat that required the efforts of at least 2 of us boys.
We did our first part easily by pelting a few pebbles at the bull and drawing it to the corner we wanted and the little one jumped into the compound from a branch. The bull started towards him the moment he entered the place. It was going to be tight but we watched in amazement as he darted between the few trees that were there, made the mark with a small brick and ran out of the place just as we bolted the gates shut. The bull never came for the gate Prabha told us. It would always stop the moment it was closed. Gogi as the little one was called, smiled for the first time that morning while gasping for breath, with an expression which was asking us if we finally considered him good enough to pay attention to. That was when my friend came up with his challenge. He asked Prabha if Gogi was willing to do what he just did 3 times for 5 rupees. Prabha appeared to be thrilled at my friend’s idea but his eyes gave away his actual feelings. Five rupees was way too good to resist anyway. He needed some time to persuade Gogi into agreement which he finally managed and so the show started.
The first couple of runs went off pretty smoothly, as a spectacle at least and Gogi was really out of breath by the end of the second run which had been rather close – I was at the open end of the gate and hence the only person who could see what was happening inside before we closed it. One couldn’t see through the gate. He asked for some time to catch his breath but my friend was rather adamant that he do it at once or forget the money. We went about our part of drawing the bull to the corner as I watched Gogi from the corner of my eye, struggling to climb the tree because of sheer exhaustion. I joined Prabha in trying to persuade my friend into giving Gogi some time to rest when he flashed me this look full of rage, full of hatred…a look that made me feel like one of ‘them’ instead of his friend. Gogi landed in the compound for the final time but this time the bull was waiting. It was alert and bolted towards Gogi even before he hit the ground – this was going to be close as the cheering by my friend suggested. We ran to the gate and took our positions, my friend at the far end this time since it was his turn to look inside. He was the one guiding us on when to close it. He was really excited and kept screaming ‘almost! almost!’ and then suddenly ‘now!’ which made us shut the gate in a flash with him bolting it even before we let go of the gate - but there was no Gogi. He was still inside. The third run had been so close that all my friend had seen was the bull coming at him and in his fear had completely forgotten about the little fellow. The first sound that I had ever heard Gogi make is still one of the most horrifying sounds I have ever heard. It was not in any language because he couldn’t speak any, it was one of immense fear. It was a pitch that was way apart from the highest octave that his voice could achieve…rather, it was this bawling that just stuck to you ears, like the one from the movie The Exorcist – only, I never found those noises scary after this. The bawling receded to a weak plea of mercy as he started banging on the gate. Prabha and I tried pulling the gate open while my friend tried to undo the bolt. We were unknowingly negating each others’ efforts as our pulling only tightened the bolt. All this happened in 4 seconds after my friend had closed the bolt. Suddenly, the banging from the other side stopped and was replaced by another really ugly scream from Gogi which was followed by a grunt from the bull. That was when Prabha started his shouting. I looked at my friend in shock and realized both of us were crying. Suddenly I saw Prabha climb a tree and screaming with both his hands on his head. Then he looked down at us, I still remember his eyes – they had the same look when my friend had spoken about his challenge from the first time. It was far scarier this time as his mouth was open in a soundless scream…we bolted the scene. Too scared to open the gate again, we ran as if death was chasing us. I could hear Prabha following us screaming Gogi’s name. I don’t know how much time we took to reach my friend’s house (which was 20 minutes walk from that place) but I know we never stopped running till we went indoors. We ran into different rooms, I don’t remember where Prabha was. I could hardly breathe when I collapsed on the floor weeping. I think I wept for an eternity before someone woke me up in the evening. I had caught a high fever and my friend never stepped out of his room. I saw a couple of the villagers in the courtyard talking to my friend’s grandfather; I think one of them was crying. We left the village at 4 am the next morning, 2 days ahead of our scheduled departure. I was still numb and did not dare to ask my friend anything about the incident. He went away to Bangalore the next week as his father was settling there. This was during the summer vacations and my friend did not come back to boarding the next year.
I shuddered at a mere mental recollection of the incident and could not bring myself to tell this to anybody except one person. I have spent many a sleepless night thinking about Gogi and I spend one more to write this down as I finally know now. My friend called me a few hours ago. Got my phone number from another friend courtesy Facebook. We spoke for only the second time after that incident and it’s been 5 years since we have spoken last. All he said after the ‘hello’ was ‘Gogi is safe. The villagers saved him after Prabha got help. I found this out a couple of months after I started school in Bangalore. I thought it was important that you know this’ I realize now that Prabha was not actually running away with us but running to get help. And I stand corrected - yes he is important in every context of the words I have written. I have long grown to shed the feeling of false superiority that I felt that day but the lesson stands reinforced. Another demon laid to rest…
‘He will do it for you! He likes you two!’ Prabha interrupted my thoughts again. I was trying to find a sign of affection in his face when Prabha made a gesture and he nodded. The deal was this – there was this bull that had apparently gone wild with the coming of the mating season and nobody to mate with. It had almost killed one man and destroyed considerable amount of property as a result of which it was now kept in isolation, in an area considered sufficient for it and this was expected to calm it down. This attempt was clearly failing as the animal remained just as fierce even after a week. What this little fellow was going to do was get into the compound which had the bull, run to the boundary wall on the other end and make a mark on it. The bull did not take too kindly to anyone even setting foot into the compound, let alone marking on his territory; so the boy had to dodge and outrun the bull to get to the entrance of the compound which had to be shut by us once he was out. A mere look at the bull scared us; it was a powerful creature, the short and stout type, so the idea of this ‘stunt’ was really thrilling. Our participation in this scheme was a little beyond an audience. We had to lure the bull to one corner of the compound so that the feat could be performed and then open, shut and bolt the heavy gate of the compound – a feat that required the efforts of at least 2 of us boys.
We did our first part easily by pelting a few pebbles at the bull and drawing it to the corner we wanted and the little one jumped into the compound from a branch. The bull started towards him the moment he entered the place. It was going to be tight but we watched in amazement as he darted between the few trees that were there, made the mark with a small brick and ran out of the place just as we bolted the gates shut. The bull never came for the gate Prabha told us. It would always stop the moment it was closed. Gogi as the little one was called, smiled for the first time that morning while gasping for breath, with an expression which was asking us if we finally considered him good enough to pay attention to. That was when my friend came up with his challenge. He asked Prabha if Gogi was willing to do what he just did 3 times for 5 rupees. Prabha appeared to be thrilled at my friend’s idea but his eyes gave away his actual feelings. Five rupees was way too good to resist anyway. He needed some time to persuade Gogi into agreement which he finally managed and so the show started.
The first couple of runs went off pretty smoothly, as a spectacle at least and Gogi was really out of breath by the end of the second run which had been rather close – I was at the open end of the gate and hence the only person who could see what was happening inside before we closed it. One couldn’t see through the gate. He asked for some time to catch his breath but my friend was rather adamant that he do it at once or forget the money. We went about our part of drawing the bull to the corner as I watched Gogi from the corner of my eye, struggling to climb the tree because of sheer exhaustion. I joined Prabha in trying to persuade my friend into giving Gogi some time to rest when he flashed me this look full of rage, full of hatred…a look that made me feel like one of ‘them’ instead of his friend. Gogi landed in the compound for the final time but this time the bull was waiting. It was alert and bolted towards Gogi even before he hit the ground – this was going to be close as the cheering by my friend suggested. We ran to the gate and took our positions, my friend at the far end this time since it was his turn to look inside. He was the one guiding us on when to close it. He was really excited and kept screaming ‘almost! almost!’ and then suddenly ‘now!’ which made us shut the gate in a flash with him bolting it even before we let go of the gate - but there was no Gogi. He was still inside. The third run had been so close that all my friend had seen was the bull coming at him and in his fear had completely forgotten about the little fellow. The first sound that I had ever heard Gogi make is still one of the most horrifying sounds I have ever heard. It was not in any language because he couldn’t speak any, it was one of immense fear. It was a pitch that was way apart from the highest octave that his voice could achieve…rather, it was this bawling that just stuck to you ears, like the one from the movie The Exorcist – only, I never found those noises scary after this. The bawling receded to a weak plea of mercy as he started banging on the gate. Prabha and I tried pulling the gate open while my friend tried to undo the bolt. We were unknowingly negating each others’ efforts as our pulling only tightened the bolt. All this happened in 4 seconds after my friend had closed the bolt. Suddenly, the banging from the other side stopped and was replaced by another really ugly scream from Gogi which was followed by a grunt from the bull. That was when Prabha started his shouting. I looked at my friend in shock and realized both of us were crying. Suddenly I saw Prabha climb a tree and screaming with both his hands on his head. Then he looked down at us, I still remember his eyes – they had the same look when my friend had spoken about his challenge from the first time. It was far scarier this time as his mouth was open in a soundless scream…we bolted the scene. Too scared to open the gate again, we ran as if death was chasing us. I could hear Prabha following us screaming Gogi’s name. I don’t know how much time we took to reach my friend’s house (which was 20 minutes walk from that place) but I know we never stopped running till we went indoors. We ran into different rooms, I don’t remember where Prabha was. I could hardly breathe when I collapsed on the floor weeping. I think I wept for an eternity before someone woke me up in the evening. I had caught a high fever and my friend never stepped out of his room. I saw a couple of the villagers in the courtyard talking to my friend’s grandfather; I think one of them was crying. We left the village at 4 am the next morning, 2 days ahead of our scheduled departure. I was still numb and did not dare to ask my friend anything about the incident. He went away to Bangalore the next week as his father was settling there. This was during the summer vacations and my friend did not come back to boarding the next year.
I shuddered at a mere mental recollection of the incident and could not bring myself to tell this to anybody except one person. I have spent many a sleepless night thinking about Gogi and I spend one more to write this down as I finally know now. My friend called me a few hours ago. Got my phone number from another friend courtesy Facebook. We spoke for only the second time after that incident and it’s been 5 years since we have spoken last. All he said after the ‘hello’ was ‘Gogi is safe. The villagers saved him after Prabha got help. I found this out a couple of months after I started school in Bangalore. I thought it was important that you know this’ I realize now that Prabha was not actually running away with us but running to get help. And I stand corrected - yes he is important in every context of the words I have written. I have long grown to shed the feeling of false superiority that I felt that day but the lesson stands reinforced. Another demon laid to rest…
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