Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Guilt and Conscience...
Yes, I killed... It was me... Kya kar loge... kuthe ke aulaton...
I'm telling, it is me... Come kill me... take revenge...
Main bol raha huna.. Yes, It was me.... Fu** you all.... you dogs...
He was tied, and was being taken away by four attendees...
No marks for guessing.... A Mental Hospital...
Chutkoo... he was my friend... well, till then he was my friend.. and remained so only for another two n a half hrs.
The thin, lean and short ... he was the chutkoo in our C-52 gang...
He had a lot to prove to others...
that he is strong, glamorous, he is brave.. and stylish.
Now I think he had some sort of complex..
Not that any one else in c-52 had any of those qualities.. but we never cared..
we never thought of wanting to prove....
But our chutkoo had to...
and we never noticed... never even bothered to notice...
Apart from the fact that he was afraid of dogs... Even a small puppy could bring the hell out of him...
He would not get out of house in the night if he hears a dog moaning a good half a km away...
But then he was our chutkoo.. He was well protected...
I think it was just out of this fear of dogs, he bought a brand new Pulsar. And it did help, the bike did instil some sort of confidence in him... Now he used to go out alone in the night..
Roam around all night and come back early mornings..
Our late nights started to become just the start of the day for him... and when he comes back he used to ring the bell some 10 times until all of us are awaken.....
uth jaa saalon......
But again.. we never bothered.. It was chutkoo.. woh toh pehle se hi pagal hai.. ??
Until one night.. I should say morning, when he ringed (surprisingly my phone..and not the bell )from outside the house and asked me to open the house... There was panic in his voice. And he asked not to awake any one else... and so I did go silentlly and open the door.
A December night and he was all sweating... and I noticed the blood stains.. in the front tyre of the bike.
Yaar ek accident hogaya...
Ek kutha ... main nabbe pe tha... woh.. woh.. beech main...
Half asleep, I said..
Its ok yaar...
Its just a dog... Relax.. Tumhe toh kuch hua nahi na...
Nothing had happened to him.. except for a scratch in the forearm...
I dont want this bike any more..
I want to sell it now.. I'm damn afraid...
Chutkoo.. tu tension mat lena...
ek kutha hi toh hai...kya hogaya tujhe....
I am damn afraid yaar.. Seriously.. You know na how much I'm afraid of dogs..
Now all of em would kill me... I am afraid yaar...
I want to sell this bike.. Please help me...
we washed the stains.. cleaned.. gave for a service.. and sold the bike the third day...
After 2 months he, chutkoo, shifted house to a new place.. and the meetings became rare...
It was after 8 months I was going to see him..
As he always feared... He was attacked by a few street dogs....
And he was admitted to a hospital..
But as he showed mental instability and streaks of violence, he was moved to a mental hospital near by..
Yes, you fu**ing bitches.. Come, kill me... I'll kill you all...
You.. you.. ... you.... yo.... and he was falling unconcsious....
I got to see him after 2 hrs...
He was normal..
Hi yaar...
and almost cried ... When I asked ...
Kya hua tumhe chutkoo.... ye kya halat bana ke rakha hai...
Yaar.. I had told you.. these dogs..."
They are taking revenge.. you remember the accident..
Revenge.. bull shit.. Tum pagal hogaya kya...
he stared at me.. and he asked...
What do you think I have become...
Can I trust you...
I want to tell you something
I have to tell this....
Areh chutkoo batana.. you very well know you can trust me...
You remember the accident....
That night, that night... It was not a dog....
then....
It was not a dog... It was a small kid... some street child...
Her dog had come in the way.. and she jumped in front of my bike trying to save it...
What the Fuck...
Main bola thana.. main nabbe pe tha.. I couldn't stop...
and you didn't stop..?? You .. you didnt try to save her..
I tried..da... I tried... But the moment I stopped... her dog.. it started barking at me.. and attacked me..
He showed the scratch...
God.. I have seen that before..
It was attacking me da.. I had to save my self. I reached for a brick and killed it.. smashed its head... smashed it... dim.. dead.. bloody dogs..
ha ha ha ha...
ha ha ha ha......
Oh My God... I looked at my hands... Those stains... I washed... blood... a small girl's..
You bloody basta....
I was squeezing the last breath out of him... when people came and removed me..
He was still shouting..
Come On you all.. Kill me... I know you want revenge...
Yes It was me...Yes, It was me.... Fu** you all ....
ha ha ha .... ha ha ha ...
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Savere... Savere... Yaaron se milne...
Remember those days..?
When you used to run to school carrying 10 KG bags, your mom running behind you to keep the lunch box inside..
Remember the song.. ?
"savere savere...
yaron se milne..."
This an incident from those days of my life. and I warn you, it is a very filmy story.
###################################################################
I still remember the look.
Those two eyes staring at me...
big round eyes... full of anger...
That was the very first meeting.
She was angry at me.. and she had every reason to be...
I was the reason, why, she had to change her school.
Incidentally, my Mom had told her mom, that the school in which I'm studying is good, the fee is very reasonable, and overall it is much better than where she was going now...
So..??? She was arguing with her mom.. toh kya...
so what...!!!? Her school was also good.
Everybody in her school loved her.
She was the topper, not just in her class, but in all the divisions. She was the one selected to speak during the prayers. She loved her school.
And all the more, who is this guy and his mom to decide which school should she go..????
But the fact was that she was studying in a Govt. Malayalam medium school, where there were hardly any teachers and even less teaching.
I was in 9th then and was studying in the Technical Higher Secondary School, again a Govt. school but which was much much better than where she was studying.
My Mom did convinced her mother.
She joined, in 7th, in our prestigious THSS.
and once again she had to come to my house, her mother had come to ask, whether I can take her to school with me.
Woooo..... The stare.... She was giving me the same stare.. full of anger... but this time I was laughing at her helplessness.
The school was some 6 km from he bus stop and bus stop 1km from our house, which meant a 2 km walk every day,.
Everyday I reach her house and shout..
"Aunty..."
and the girl would come out.. some times a small smile, more often a blank look. Then starts a march of two kids, not even looking at each other, we walked as if we lived in two parallel universes... Have you seen the ceremony at the wagah border ? We were pretty much like those Indian and Pakistani soldiers..., seeing each other daily..., staying so close..., but still hating each other.
The only relief I had was that more friends joined after half a km walk.
Life was going on like this for us soldiers,.. until one day,
when she fell unconscious in school. A peon came running to me and said the teacher is calling.
Her teacher had called for an auto and was asking me to take her back home. I was a bit hesitant, but looking at her awfully tired face...
She was looking really tired, and for no reason, or reasons unknown to me, she was crying.
I had to console her. but how..
I should speak something to her..
and I asked.. a genuine doubt I had...
"How do you feel, when you fall unconscious ?"
entho...!!! (what...!!!) (kya...!!!) and a smile, was her first reaction. It turned to a big laughter and a lot of many things. She said it feels very good...It is really fun to fall unconscious.. and many more things.. making fun of me.. making fun of the stupidity of the question. But I did not care. She was happy. I could cheer her up. At last we have become friends... and we don't have to march...
Next day I was expecting a happy smiling face.
But it was gloomy. and just after a few meters she said she needed to get a chart.
Can we go the other way today so that she can get the chart?
anytime ma'am...
Little did I know then that the other way was to remain the permanent way for us.. Away from those friends waiting half a km away, eating our other half a km away.
The first day, we went the other way, she was really happy and talking.. She talked a lot. She told me how she hated me for changing her school, how much she loved her older school, how much she hated this new school and a lot other things. When she starts talking it is like boarding a deccan flight. She starts a sentence which she does not know where to end or when..?
But as the days went by, I was supposed to understand whatever she was telling, however meaningless that was.
After all, I was the one who changed her school, and I was responsible for all her unhappiness. Any thing bad happens to her, she would stare at me, the same anger...
even if that is toppling over a stone.. she would look at me with the same anger...
I would laugh and tell.. areh yaar... maine toh kuch nahi kiya..
toh kya.. bacha toh sakte the...
(btw, toh kya was her favourite sentence, every time I try to make her understand some logic, .. this one sentence .. toh kya... failed me..)
Are pani khatam hogaya na.. kahase dedoo..
toh kya.. mujhe pyas lagi hai.. mujhe pani chahiye...
I don't know.. she was so sure .. she as so sure nothing would ever happen to her without my consent.
She was so sure she was mine...
Even in the school, when her friends see me and starts chidafying her..
"See here comes your hero.."
My face used to turn red.. (default color being black, the color change was not that much noticeable though.. )
But she never minded it..
Yes it was so. I was her hero.. and she was never afraid of proclaiming it.
She would make me do all those hero stuffs in front of her friends.. spinning books on fingers, moving my ears.. etc etc etc.. anything which I do to entertain her, I had to do it in front of her friends also.
I could never fail her. I was a hero, a hero, she owned.
But she hated this school. All this english... close but distant friends.. she used to remind me often that it was due to me that she had to change her school, and if it was not for me she would have gone mad in this new school.
But as long as she was with me she was happy...
and like this days went by... exams were over.. results out...
we went together to check our results.
I had topped my class, and she was shouting with happiness like anything. But when I said chalo... now lets see your results, she didn't want to. She didn't want to see her results, Some how I pushed her to the place where her results were published...
Five subjects in red.
"Yeh kya hain.. teacher lal painting kar rakha hai kya..??
ha ha ha ha ha ha...
ha ha ha ha ha ha..."
I don't know whether it was, she failing in the subjects, or the cruel face of mine, laughing at her state...,
she was running.., running back home, crying... both hands on her face...
The whole vacation she did not talk to me. Not even a stare...
and the next year she moved back to the school she belonged to, and we shifted to a new house.
I still remember the stare, full of anger, full of love, and I miss it badly.
Now sometimes, I wonder, how a stupid comment made her come the closest to my life, and another stupid one, drove her away from my life... for ever...?
When you used to run to school carrying 10 KG bags, your mom running behind you to keep the lunch box inside..
Remember the song.. ?
"savere savere...
yaron se milne..."
This an incident from those days of my life. and I warn you, it is a very filmy story.
###################################################################
I still remember the look.
Those two eyes staring at me...
big round eyes... full of anger...
That was the very first meeting.
She was angry at me.. and she had every reason to be...
I was the reason, why, she had to change her school.
Incidentally, my Mom had told her mom, that the school in which I'm studying is good, the fee is very reasonable, and overall it is much better than where she was going now...
So..??? She was arguing with her mom.. toh kya...
so what...!!!? Her school was also good.
Everybody in her school loved her.
She was the topper, not just in her class, but in all the divisions. She was the one selected to speak during the prayers. She loved her school.
And all the more, who is this guy and his mom to decide which school should she go..????
But the fact was that she was studying in a Govt. Malayalam medium school, where there were hardly any teachers and even less teaching.
I was in 9th then and was studying in the Technical Higher Secondary School, again a Govt. school but which was much much better than where she was studying.
My Mom did convinced her mother.
She joined, in 7th, in our prestigious THSS.
and once again she had to come to my house, her mother had come to ask, whether I can take her to school with me.
Woooo..... The stare.... She was giving me the same stare.. full of anger... but this time I was laughing at her helplessness.
The school was some 6 km from he bus stop and bus stop 1km from our house, which meant a 2 km walk every day,.
Everyday I reach her house and shout..
"Aunty..."
and the girl would come out.. some times a small smile, more often a blank look. Then starts a march of two kids, not even looking at each other, we walked as if we lived in two parallel universes... Have you seen the ceremony at the wagah border ? We were pretty much like those Indian and Pakistani soldiers..., seeing each other daily..., staying so close..., but still hating each other.
The only relief I had was that more friends joined after half a km walk.
Life was going on like this for us soldiers,.. until one day,
when she fell unconscious in school. A peon came running to me and said the teacher is calling.
Her teacher had called for an auto and was asking me to take her back home. I was a bit hesitant, but looking at her awfully tired face...
She was looking really tired, and for no reason, or reasons unknown to me, she was crying.
I had to console her. but how..
I should speak something to her..
and I asked.. a genuine doubt I had...
"How do you feel, when you fall unconscious ?"
entho...!!! (what...!!!) (kya...!!!) and a smile, was her first reaction. It turned to a big laughter and a lot of many things. She said it feels very good...It is really fun to fall unconscious.. and many more things.. making fun of me.. making fun of the stupidity of the question. But I did not care. She was happy. I could cheer her up. At last we have become friends... and we don't have to march...
Next day I was expecting a happy smiling face.
But it was gloomy. and just after a few meters she said she needed to get a chart.
Can we go the other way today so that she can get the chart?
anytime ma'am...
Little did I know then that the other way was to remain the permanent way for us.. Away from those friends waiting half a km away, eating our other half a km away.
The first day, we went the other way, she was really happy and talking.. She talked a lot. She told me how she hated me for changing her school, how much she loved her older school, how much she hated this new school and a lot other things. When she starts talking it is like boarding a deccan flight. She starts a sentence which she does not know where to end or when..?
But as the days went by, I was supposed to understand whatever she was telling, however meaningless that was.
After all, I was the one who changed her school, and I was responsible for all her unhappiness. Any thing bad happens to her, she would stare at me, the same anger...
even if that is toppling over a stone.. she would look at me with the same anger...
I would laugh and tell.. areh yaar... maine toh kuch nahi kiya..
toh kya.. bacha toh sakte the...
(btw, toh kya was her favourite sentence, every time I try to make her understand some logic, .. this one sentence .. toh kya... failed me..)
Are pani khatam hogaya na.. kahase dedoo..
toh kya.. mujhe pyas lagi hai.. mujhe pani chahiye...
I don't know.. she was so sure .. she as so sure nothing would ever happen to her without my consent.
She was so sure she was mine...
Even in the school, when her friends see me and starts chidafying her..
"See here comes your hero.."
My face used to turn red.. (default color being black, the color change was not that much noticeable though.. )
But she never minded it..
Yes it was so. I was her hero.. and she was never afraid of proclaiming it.
She would make me do all those hero stuffs in front of her friends.. spinning books on fingers, moving my ears.. etc etc etc.. anything which I do to entertain her, I had to do it in front of her friends also.
I could never fail her. I was a hero, a hero, she owned.
But she hated this school. All this english... close but distant friends.. she used to remind me often that it was due to me that she had to change her school, and if it was not for me she would have gone mad in this new school.
But as long as she was with me she was happy...
and like this days went by... exams were over.. results out...
we went together to check our results.
I had topped my class, and she was shouting with happiness like anything. But when I said chalo... now lets see your results, she didn't want to. She didn't want to see her results, Some how I pushed her to the place where her results were published...
Five subjects in red.
"Yeh kya hain.. teacher lal painting kar rakha hai kya..??
ha ha ha ha ha ha...
ha ha ha ha ha ha..."
I don't know whether it was, she failing in the subjects, or the cruel face of mine, laughing at her state...,
she was running.., running back home, crying... both hands on her face...
The whole vacation she did not talk to me. Not even a stare...
and the next year she moved back to the school she belonged to, and we shifted to a new house.
I still remember the stare, full of anger, full of love, and I miss it badly.
Now sometimes, I wonder, how a stupid comment made her come the closest to my life, and another stupid one, drove her away from my life... for ever...?
Friday, February 22, 2008
While ( 1 ) dream
It was just another day at the office for the tiger. Just that the office was different, and the tiger was very weak due to under nutrition diets. Tiger was feeling pain all over his body. He was weak. But still he tried a hand at the tiger badminton tournament held at the office. Well, no one believes he is a tiger there. He was treated as a kitten in the badminton court. Well he'll see them all.. all in due time.
hehehe...
After the major assault on him at the badminton court, he was feeling even weaker, vulnerable. He had not had food for the whole day. His stomach has been in the bypass mode for the past two days. He was all dehydrated. By the end of this "just another day at office" the tiger was too tired. He was having fever too. So he went back to his den early.
Still a tiger is a tiger. isn't it..? He cannot ask for care or ask for love. He still has to move on as if nothing is wrong with him. So he didn't care to tell any one in the house that he was ill.
He lied down. and just like that, even faster than yuvi comes to the creese and goes back, he was sleeping.
He was feeling uncomfortable, He felt that some thing is nearing him. something dark, gripping, it made him very dizzy, was making him unconscious. It was frightening and he felt it is going to take him with it. He shouted
amme........ amme....... don't let me go. amme..... I dont want to go..
He kept on shouting, he wanted to be heard, at least once before he is gone, forever....
Suddenly he felt a cold hand on his fore head. He tried to open his eyes.
amma !!!!
Papa was near by too...
He was telling,
monu.... where u going, you can go no where, k... , not when we are here, nothing will ever happen to you when we are here, nearby you, k..?
turning to mom, he said,
I'm going to sleep here, with him.
Mom said, she would too....
He was with his parents, papa on his right and amma on is left, he felt an unusual sense of security. He knew nothing could ever snatch him from their tight grip. He was asleep again. But....
when he checked the right side of his bed, with his left hand, he felt that no one was there. He got panicked...., he checked his left side, his mom also not there. What..? How...?
Suddenly he woke up and saw that his parents were sleeping in their bedroom.
They had never heard his shouting..... well, when have they heard..?
All a dream....., eh...?
It was a phone call that woke him up in the morning.
"Home Calling..."
He picked it.
It was a panicked voice at the other end. His mom.. yelling
what happened da.. what happened ...?
Nothing amme..nothing, just had a bad dream yesterday.. but, how did, how did you know..?
Dad had snatched the fone..
monu... nothing will ever happen to you , k... we are here.. just pray before you sleep,..
amma snatched it back...
Monu, It has been one year now, since you went to US... When you coming home...?
hehehe...
After the major assault on him at the badminton court, he was feeling even weaker, vulnerable. He had not had food for the whole day. His stomach has been in the bypass mode for the past two days. He was all dehydrated. By the end of this "just another day at office" the tiger was too tired. He was having fever too. So he went back to his den early.
Still a tiger is a tiger. isn't it..? He cannot ask for care or ask for love. He still has to move on as if nothing is wrong with him. So he didn't care to tell any one in the house that he was ill.
He lied down. and just like that, even faster than yuvi comes to the creese and goes back, he was sleeping.
He was feeling uncomfortable, He felt that some thing is nearing him. something dark, gripping, it made him very dizzy, was making him unconscious. It was frightening and he felt it is going to take him with it. He shouted
amme........ amme....... don't let me go. amme..... I dont want to go..
He kept on shouting, he wanted to be heard, at least once before he is gone, forever....
Suddenly he felt a cold hand on his fore head. He tried to open his eyes.
amma !!!!
Papa was near by too...
He was telling,
monu.... where u going, you can go no where, k... , not when we are here, nothing will ever happen to you when we are here, nearby you, k..?
turning to mom, he said,
I'm going to sleep here, with him.
Mom said, she would too....
He was with his parents, papa on his right and amma on is left, he felt an unusual sense of security. He knew nothing could ever snatch him from their tight grip. He was asleep again. But....
when he checked the right side of his bed, with his left hand, he felt that no one was there. He got panicked...., he checked his left side, his mom also not there. What..? How...?
Suddenly he woke up and saw that his parents were sleeping in their bedroom.
They had never heard his shouting..... well, when have they heard..?
All a dream....., eh...?
It was a phone call that woke him up in the morning.
"Home Calling..."
He picked it.
It was a panicked voice at the other end. His mom.. yelling
what happened da.. what happened ...?
Nothing amme..nothing, just had a bad dream yesterday.. but, how did, how did you know..?
Dad had snatched the fone..
monu... nothing will ever happen to you , k... we are here.. just pray before you sleep,..
amma snatched it back...
Monu, It has been one year now, since you went to US... When you coming home...?
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
When I Look Back...
Its been six months now and surprisingly it had been satisfying. He was happy. A happiness which had no past or a future ,may be, just the present. A happiness which had no reason. But, he was happy.
His college days were over, and it was time for him to join one of those MNCs. And when he joined this company, he was a bit scared..., a bit confused.... Not clear about his future, Not clear about his goals.
Till then his life had some purpose, he knew what exactly had to be done...
He had to get a job. He had to get a job so that his family could be financially secure, so that his family could stay happy and thus he would be happy. For him, personally, he had never thought anything beyond that, that was it, the end, the end of his aspirations, his energy, his passion, his life.
and from then, started the life of the machine, which i tried to capture in one of my previous posts.
He was getting into the exact life which i was always afraid of.
He had started to live the "The Life for a Resume." The Life of doing innovations for the sake of it, trying to compete with others, getting the work done before it was scheduled, covering more and more work portfolio, all this and more so that his resume looks good. He was trying to squeeze his life into that A4 size resume not knowing that he was strangling, suffocating himself, not knowing that, later, when he will look back, this resume will mean nothing more than a piece of paper for him.
But it was going to change soon, and the change surprisingly did not come from the more happening malls, or the posh pubs of noida, rather, it came from a slum community in Noida. It was one of the friends from his college, who had introduced him to this NGO working in Noida.
Well he dint have anything else to do on the weekends, and so he decided to do the so called "Social service". But before he started, he wanted to understand, why he was doing this.
Was he doing this so that he could tell every one that he is doing social work. so that whenever some one called him, he could tell that,
"yeah.. hi ,.. you know what, I go and do some NGO work nowadays. " ..
hmm... May be , may be not....
But what priority did it have in his life ? well , a movie definitely had more priority.
Isnt it..????
Was he doing this for his own satisfaction ? that whenever he gets some free time go spend some time with the children and get that feel good factor "of doing something good". Was it..???
Dont know... may be .. may be not...
Was he doing this coz he really cared for them and wanted to bring in some change there. Was it...?
Dont know.... I really dont know...
He started going there. Started spending some time with the kids there. It was good. He was happy.
But then like all those gals who had rejected him, the kids were also not going to accept him initially.
For the first few weeks no kid went to him to learn. He just went there every weekend, sat there amidst all those noise they made,... he was trying to find some silence in that noise. He was happy.
One day one of their 'sir'jis asked them to do "chappan adhik paintalis" and one gal dint know how to do it. Trying to find the answer from somewhere she went to him and asked
"Sirji, sirji. ye kaise karte hain..?"
Well he dint know what chappan or paintalis meant. For that matter he dint know any number beyond pachis in Hindi. But he dint want to tell her that. It was for the first time some one was coming to him to learn something. Instead, he said,
"acha... dheko beta, ye toh bahut hi aasan dediya woh sirji ne.. main aapko thoda jyaada tough deta hun. dus + pantrah. dhekte hai kar paogi ki nahi..? "
"kar paoongi sirji, abhi karke laati hun".
with one of the cutest and naughtiest smile she left for doing the problem.
He was happy. some one had gone to him for learning something for the first time.
From the next day it was learning more than teaching for him.
kids teaching him daye, baye, and he teaching them left, right.
Though gradually more and more kids started going to him for learning, there was one kid who always sticked to him. Our "chappan adhik paintalis". He should be there, then only she would start studying. More than a student, she was a lil sister to him.
Now he knew, why he was doing this. It brought some purpose into his life. It brought some passion, some passion to achieve something for some one other than himself. He knew that he could stay happy now only if his this new family is happy. Kids were happy to see him, they were happy to be with him, and he was too.
Thus went one of the most satisfying six months of his life...
But things cannot move so smoothly right. It was on the day I came back from the vacation with my smaller family, I learnt that there was govt order to remove that slum from there. I learnt that although the NGO had fought a lot to oppose it, they could not. They had closed this center.
and again I was left all alone in that road.
I was again getting into the exact life which i was always afraid of.
Once again I had started to live the "The Life for the Resume."
The next weekend, in the evening..., I went for a long walk, I walked a long distance through those 4 lane roads in Noida thinking about the meaninglessness of this life and about my meaningless future, and one of the decision I took during those long walks was to move to bangalore, to share the happiness of my smaller family.
It was after a long gap of 6 years I went back to Noida again. I went for that walk again, on those straight four lane roads of noida, thinking about the past.
A traffic jam...
I saw her, my lil sister....
My chappan adhik paintalis.
She was begging for food...... ???????
A police man was walking towards her. He slapped her on her face. caught her by her hair and pushed her to the side of the road.
I ran towards her,
God, I did not have the courage to look at her face.,
She had...
she looked at me, recognizing me, she asked,
"Why Sirji, why, why did you leave us alone...?"
God,What should I say...
I could not save my lil brothers and sisters.
His college days were over, and it was time for him to join one of those MNCs. And when he joined this company, he was a bit scared..., a bit confused.... Not clear about his future, Not clear about his goals.
Till then his life had some purpose, he knew what exactly had to be done...
He had to get a job. He had to get a job so that his family could be financially secure, so that his family could stay happy and thus he would be happy. For him, personally, he had never thought anything beyond that, that was it, the end, the end of his aspirations, his energy, his passion, his life.
and from then, started the life of the machine, which i tried to capture in one of my previous posts.
He was getting into the exact life which i was always afraid of.
He had started to live the "The Life for a Resume." The Life of doing innovations for the sake of it, trying to compete with others, getting the work done before it was scheduled, covering more and more work portfolio, all this and more so that his resume looks good. He was trying to squeeze his life into that A4 size resume not knowing that he was strangling, suffocating himself, not knowing that, later, when he will look back, this resume will mean nothing more than a piece of paper for him.
But it was going to change soon, and the change surprisingly did not come from the more happening malls, or the posh pubs of noida, rather, it came from a slum community in Noida. It was one of the friends from his college, who had introduced him to this NGO working in Noida.
Well he dint have anything else to do on the weekends, and so he decided to do the so called "Social service". But before he started, he wanted to understand, why he was doing this.
Was he doing this so that he could tell every one that he is doing social work. so that whenever some one called him, he could tell that,
"yeah.. hi ,.. you know what, I go and do some NGO work nowadays. " ..
hmm... May be , may be not....
But what priority did it have in his life ? well , a movie definitely had more priority.
Isnt it..????
Was he doing this for his own satisfaction ? that whenever he gets some free time go spend some time with the children and get that feel good factor "of doing something good". Was it..???
Dont know... may be .. may be not...
Was he doing this coz he really cared for them and wanted to bring in some change there. Was it...?
Dont know.... I really dont know...
He started going there. Started spending some time with the kids there. It was good. He was happy.
But then like all those gals who had rejected him, the kids were also not going to accept him initially.
For the first few weeks no kid went to him to learn. He just went there every weekend, sat there amidst all those noise they made,... he was trying to find some silence in that noise. He was happy.
One day one of their 'sir'jis asked them to do "chappan adhik paintalis" and one gal dint know how to do it. Trying to find the answer from somewhere she went to him and asked
"Sirji, sirji. ye kaise karte hain..?"
Well he dint know what chappan or paintalis meant. For that matter he dint know any number beyond pachis in Hindi. But he dint want to tell her that. It was for the first time some one was coming to him to learn something. Instead, he said,
"acha... dheko beta, ye toh bahut hi aasan dediya woh sirji ne.. main aapko thoda jyaada tough deta hun. dus + pantrah. dhekte hai kar paogi ki nahi..? "
"kar paoongi sirji, abhi karke laati hun".
with one of the cutest and naughtiest smile she left for doing the problem.
He was happy. some one had gone to him for learning something for the first time.
From the next day it was learning more than teaching for him.
kids teaching him daye, baye, and he teaching them left, right.
Though gradually more and more kids started going to him for learning, there was one kid who always sticked to him. Our "chappan adhik paintalis". He should be there, then only she would start studying. More than a student, she was a lil sister to him.
Now he knew, why he was doing this. It brought some purpose into his life. It brought some passion, some passion to achieve something for some one other than himself. He knew that he could stay happy now only if his this new family is happy. Kids were happy to see him, they were happy to be with him, and he was too.
Thus went one of the most satisfying six months of his life...
But things cannot move so smoothly right. It was on the day I came back from the vacation with my smaller family, I learnt that there was govt order to remove that slum from there. I learnt that although the NGO had fought a lot to oppose it, they could not. They had closed this center.
and again I was left all alone in that road.
I was again getting into the exact life which i was always afraid of.
Once again I had started to live the "The Life for the Resume."
The next weekend, in the evening..., I went for a long walk, I walked a long distance through those 4 lane roads in Noida thinking about the meaninglessness of this life and about my meaningless future, and one of the decision I took during those long walks was to move to bangalore, to share the happiness of my smaller family.
It was after a long gap of 6 years I went back to Noida again. I went for that walk again, on those straight four lane roads of noida, thinking about the past.
A traffic jam...
I saw her, my lil sister....
My chappan adhik paintalis.
She was begging for food...... ???????
A police man was walking towards her. He slapped her on her face. caught her by her hair and pushed her to the side of the road.
I ran towards her,
God, I did not have the courage to look at her face.,
She had...
she looked at me, recognizing me, she asked,
"Why Sirji, why, why did you leave us alone...?"
God,What should I say...
I could not save my lil brothers and sisters.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
When moments decide years
Being the only 4-stroke 220 CC bike produced in India, I always had this feeling of being superior to others. With a Digital Twin Spark Fuel Injection , a mind-blowing 20bhp and a maximum torque of 1.95 kgm at 6500 rpm, I call myself the most advanced bike of India. About the looks,... even with sakshal Brad Pitt riding me, I could make every single gal on the road tell "wow.. what a bike" and then a bit later " was that Brad Pitt..????"
Every one wanted to own me, but I,.. I wanted to be owned by just one guy. A guy who will not give me all those galis if i'm not able to give him a 30 KM mileage, a guy, who will not curse me for not having a Kick start, in case my electric start does not work, a guy who will not kick @ my tyres in case my tubeless tyre gets punctured, but of all, a guy who will care for my vital parts like he cares for his.
I waited for almost 2 weeks in a show room near MarineDrive in Chennai. Then, on a sunday afternoon one guy of arround 5'9" walked in with one of his friends. I heard him telling the manager that he is working in a consulting firm and it is really a good company to work with, he was all proud of his company. Seemed he was happy with his life. He came and said he wanted a red 220CC * bike to be delivered within two days. and I was the choice.. Though I did not like his way of walking, or the looks, or the way he screamed all the time that his company is really good as if to convince himself, I did not really have a choice.
Quite opposite to my initial judgements, he was a nice person. Two things I noticed about him, first he was a man of impulse. I mean he decided things impulsively, and those impulsive moments decided hours and some times years for him. Second he wanted to be always right and a hero in front of his friends, even though it meant a personal loss to him.
For the first few days he continued his journey in the bus only, neglecting those moderately crowded buses, running after every empty bus that did not stop, and then in the end hanging on to the most crowded one. He always reached late. On that weekend one of his friend and he decided to take me out, and go on a ride to the Alsa Mall. It was a bit tough for him initially to handle my 20bhp horse power engine and powerful disc brakes. All most everytime he braked, his friend almost did a somersault. I donno why I despised his friend. I mean he was nice and all. that is OK. but my back seat is raised so much not for some 85 KG monkey to sit. Like all those sexy bikes on the road I also had some wishes. But anyway, the guy, it seems, never felt the need for one.
So this weekend malls stuff continued almost every week, going every saturday evening, and coming back at around 3'o clock on the sunday morning, until one day when they decided not to go to the malls together anymore. I donno what exactly happened but from what I could get from their talking in the upperbasement parking area, it seems a few couples made fun of them. It seems a gal started all this by telling her boyfriend, "Look you dont even love me as much as those guys love each other and you call yourself my boyfriend ??" and every one around started laughing. Guys come on.. those days are not that distant when a huge fuss was always made when a guy and a gal walked into a cinema theater. And then a group of guys hanging out was a very normal thing. Now you better have a girlfriend or dont come to the malls.
I was sad for the guy, but was a bit happy too, for at least I got some relief that I dont have to carry that 85 KG any more. Now it was all, office and back home for me. Every day the same road, same traffic signals, and so on.. Life was getting really boring until one day when I saw a girl coming out with him from the office. It was really late, around 12'o clock in the night. She was telling..
it is too late now.. I will have to get an auto
and then looking at him.. for him to tell
"chal I'll drop you."
But kahan.. apna hero toh ekdum seedha sadha haina... He said haan, and had almost started me when she asked
" Can you drop me till the auto stand"
another cold haan was the reply.. I donno what the heck is the problem with this guy. When will he learn what to tell. She must have been really scared, for no other reason, she would have asked a lift from such a loser.
Thus for the first time, I got a gal to sit on my back seat. that pleasure is something yaar... will tell u in private.. ;)
On the way to the auto stand he asked,
Can I drop you to your house.
no no,.. leave it, i'll get an auto from here. and any way I have to go to Nungambakkom.
Nungambakkom !!! you stay in nungambakkom, well I stay there too..!! I'll drop you. that is , if it is ok with you...
oh you stay there, then i wont mind you dropping me, infact i might not mind even picking me up
She had this weird smile when she said that and I was laughing, for if it was me, I would have picked her up then and there itself. She was not a beauty, if you ask me. But she was not that bad too. was fair !! which is a surprise in chennai, and had pretty decent vital stats, good enough for sitting on my raised back seat. I donno whether the guy was happy or not, but I was happy.
The next day morning, he got up around8'o clock, heard him ringing up her, and telling
i'll pick you up, be ready by 9:30 ok...??
He wore a blue Lee jeans and a light green tee, and was all laughing when he pressed my red electric start button. He reached her house in 10 mins, and it was just 9:10 then. He ringed up her again and waited for another half an hour near her house. She came running downstairs with a hell lot of sorries, she was late !!!!. Put all combinations of sorry, very, really, and I'm, and she said all of them that day with a very mischievous smile on her lips. These combinations were soon going to be a part of his life.
From that day started a friendship that grew in front of my own eyes. I could call that friendship my own, for they were together only when they were with me, being busy with their office works otherwise. They were happy together. and I was happy too. Daily in the morning he waited for her, she always late, and while coming back, she waited for him, by me, he always late. But this was the time when they said a lot of things to me, some verbally and some no so verbally. I knew they loved each other.
I think the best state of love is when both love each other and when both dont know whether the other loves back or not. This is when people become at their best, creatively, and on humanitarian grounds. While she is waiting for him, and he is coming with his friends, he'll crack some joke to his friends, and then when they laugh, he will give a look to her..
See, i'm a star among my friends....
Buddy she loves you, whether you are a star or not. The same with her too. she'll help some one on the street, and give him a look,
See, i'm really a nice gal.. love me.
The best part is when he puts brakes, sometimes deliberately I'll activate my disc brakes a bit too much that she wont be able to control her forward momentum. She will hit his back, will suddenly get back and tell
oh sorry....
I laugh then too. What was that sorry for..? was it her fault. Was he disturbed. Or was it a "sorry.. I think you liked it". But then that is why this is the best state of love. Both of them will always do things that each other like and enjoy but with a sorry attached to it. I love this love thing. It is really cute. I was wondering when he is going to tell her that he loves her, or is it going to be she... Was not really necessary for them to tell though.
Though that was a love they never acknowledged it existed nevertheless.
But for them it was not enough that they loved each other. They had to be proud in loving each other. For he wanted to be proud of his girlfriend and vice versa. He wanted his friends envy this priced possession and she wanted it too. One Saturday , I think he decided to end this mystery. he was gonna tell her. But you know every one needs some advice before telling this love thing. people say there are certain ways to do it and he didn't know it. So he went to that 85 kg friend for advice. but he didn't want to tell him that he loved her. He didn't want to be embarrassed.
Kya Bhai.. kaise ho..? bahut din hogaya.. aaj kal toh dhikte hi nahi ho.???
Kya kare yaar, kaam itna rahte hain.. weekends ko bhi office jaan padta hain..
waise ek cheez batana tha tumhe, sunega toh you'll laugh like anything.
batao yaar...
don't tell any one ok..? it is a secret...
are bataona.. main kisiko nahi batana waala..
mera ek dost, he likes that girl, you know, she who comes to office with me. he is asking me to tell... kya kare...
what..??? hahahahaah.. sorry can't stop laughing, it is really funny...who will go after such a girl. she is a white pig. btw have you ever noticed her ass, she has a single lobbed ass. hehehe... I really pity him man, so sad... waise bolne main kya hain.. just tell her..
I wish I hadn't seen his awestruck face then. He was torn apart. Some how he managed a smile
hehehehe... haan.. waise chalo.. mujhe jaana hain abhi... milta hun...
And all of a sudden, a thing that he was of no concernfor him in the last four months was ruining his sleep. Why did she have to have it like that. What will he do now.. All this four months he was going with a girl who didnt have a perfect ass. God, how could he do that. what his friends would have thought of him.
If he had asked me, I would have asked him to just look at my rear view mirror, and tell what the gal should be thinking of him. But then... he never asked me.
He had to avoid every possible way to see her. No more did he want to pick her up and brake at those bumps. He was in search of an all perfect beauty.
The next day I saw him putting a board in front of the house and the very next day one guy came and bought me. The way he thought of to not pick her up.
I really miss him, but as I said, for him the moments decided hours and some times years. This time the life itself I guess.
Now in this new house, a pomeranian and an alcesian are competing as to who will pee the maximum on my tyres.. naasam pidicha jantukkal.... Bloody dogs..
Every one wanted to own me, but I,.. I wanted to be owned by just one guy. A guy who will not give me all those galis if i'm not able to give him a 30 KM mileage, a guy, who will not curse me for not having a Kick start, in case my electric start does not work, a guy who will not kick @ my tyres in case my tubeless tyre gets punctured, but of all, a guy who will care for my vital parts like he cares for his.
I waited for almost 2 weeks in a show room near MarineDrive in Chennai. Then, on a sunday afternoon one guy of arround 5'9" walked in with one of his friends. I heard him telling the manager that he is working in a consulting firm and it is really a good company to work with, he was all proud of his company. Seemed he was happy with his life. He came and said he wanted a red 220CC * bike to be delivered within two days. and I was the choice.. Though I did not like his way of walking, or the looks, or the way he screamed all the time that his company is really good as if to convince himself, I did not really have a choice.
Quite opposite to my initial judgements, he was a nice person. Two things I noticed about him, first he was a man of impulse. I mean he decided things impulsively, and those impulsive moments decided hours and some times years for him. Second he wanted to be always right and a hero in front of his friends, even though it meant a personal loss to him.
For the first few days he continued his journey in the bus only, neglecting those moderately crowded buses, running after every empty bus that did not stop, and then in the end hanging on to the most crowded one. He always reached late. On that weekend one of his friend and he decided to take me out, and go on a ride to the Alsa Mall. It was a bit tough for him initially to handle my 20bhp horse power engine and powerful disc brakes. All most everytime he braked, his friend almost did a somersault. I donno why I despised his friend. I mean he was nice and all. that is OK. but my back seat is raised so much not for some 85 KG monkey to sit. Like all those sexy bikes on the road I also had some wishes. But anyway, the guy, it seems, never felt the need for one.
So this weekend malls stuff continued almost every week, going every saturday evening, and coming back at around 3'o clock on the sunday morning, until one day when they decided not to go to the malls together anymore. I donno what exactly happened but from what I could get from their talking in the upperbasement parking area, it seems a few couples made fun of them. It seems a gal started all this by telling her boyfriend, "Look you dont even love me as much as those guys love each other and you call yourself my boyfriend ??" and every one around started laughing. Guys come on.. those days are not that distant when a huge fuss was always made when a guy and a gal walked into a cinema theater. And then a group of guys hanging out was a very normal thing. Now you better have a girlfriend or dont come to the malls.
I was sad for the guy, but was a bit happy too, for at least I got some relief that I dont have to carry that 85 KG any more. Now it was all, office and back home for me. Every day the same road, same traffic signals, and so on.. Life was getting really boring until one day when I saw a girl coming out with him from the office. It was really late, around 12'o clock in the night. She was telling..
it is too late now.. I will have to get an auto
and then looking at him.. for him to tell
"chal I'll drop you."
But kahan.. apna hero toh ekdum seedha sadha haina... He said haan, and had almost started me when she asked
" Can you drop me till the auto stand"
another cold haan was the reply.. I donno what the heck is the problem with this guy. When will he learn what to tell. She must have been really scared, for no other reason, she would have asked a lift from such a loser.
Thus for the first time, I got a gal to sit on my back seat. that pleasure is something yaar... will tell u in private.. ;)
On the way to the auto stand he asked,
Can I drop you to your house.
no no,.. leave it, i'll get an auto from here. and any way I have to go to Nungambakkom.
Nungambakkom !!! you stay in nungambakkom, well I stay there too..!! I'll drop you. that is , if it is ok with you...
oh you stay there, then i wont mind you dropping me, infact i might not mind even picking me up
She had this weird smile when she said that and I was laughing, for if it was me, I would have picked her up then and there itself. She was not a beauty, if you ask me. But she was not that bad too. was fair !! which is a surprise in chennai, and had pretty decent vital stats, good enough for sitting on my raised back seat. I donno whether the guy was happy or not, but I was happy.
The next day morning, he got up around8'o clock, heard him ringing up her, and telling
i'll pick you up, be ready by 9:30 ok...??
He wore a blue Lee jeans and a light green tee, and was all laughing when he pressed my red electric start button. He reached her house in 10 mins, and it was just 9:10 then. He ringed up her again and waited for another half an hour near her house. She came running downstairs with a hell lot of sorries, she was late !!!!. Put all combinations of sorry, very, really, and I'm, and she said all of them that day with a very mischievous smile on her lips. These combinations were soon going to be a part of his life.
From that day started a friendship that grew in front of my own eyes. I could call that friendship my own, for they were together only when they were with me, being busy with their office works otherwise. They were happy together. and I was happy too. Daily in the morning he waited for her, she always late, and while coming back, she waited for him, by me, he always late. But this was the time when they said a lot of things to me, some verbally and some no so verbally. I knew they loved each other.
I think the best state of love is when both love each other and when both dont know whether the other loves back or not. This is when people become at their best, creatively, and on humanitarian grounds. While she is waiting for him, and he is coming with his friends, he'll crack some joke to his friends, and then when they laugh, he will give a look to her..
See, i'm a star among my friends....
Buddy she loves you, whether you are a star or not. The same with her too. she'll help some one on the street, and give him a look,
See, i'm really a nice gal.. love me.
The best part is when he puts brakes, sometimes deliberately I'll activate my disc brakes a bit too much that she wont be able to control her forward momentum. She will hit his back, will suddenly get back and tell
oh sorry....
I laugh then too. What was that sorry for..? was it her fault. Was he disturbed. Or was it a "sorry.. I think you liked it". But then that is why this is the best state of love. Both of them will always do things that each other like and enjoy but with a sorry attached to it. I love this love thing. It is really cute. I was wondering when he is going to tell her that he loves her, or is it going to be she... Was not really necessary for them to tell though.
Though that was a love they never acknowledged it existed nevertheless.
But for them it was not enough that they loved each other. They had to be proud in loving each other. For he wanted to be proud of his girlfriend and vice versa. He wanted his friends envy this priced possession and she wanted it too. One Saturday , I think he decided to end this mystery. he was gonna tell her. But you know every one needs some advice before telling this love thing. people say there are certain ways to do it and he didn't know it. So he went to that 85 kg friend for advice. but he didn't want to tell him that he loved her. He didn't want to be embarrassed.
Kya Bhai.. kaise ho..? bahut din hogaya.. aaj kal toh dhikte hi nahi ho.???
Kya kare yaar, kaam itna rahte hain.. weekends ko bhi office jaan padta hain..
waise ek cheez batana tha tumhe, sunega toh you'll laugh like anything.
batao yaar...
don't tell any one ok..? it is a secret...
are bataona.. main kisiko nahi batana waala..
mera ek dost, he likes that girl, you know, she who comes to office with me. he is asking me to tell... kya kare...
what..??? hahahahaah.. sorry can't stop laughing, it is really funny...who will go after such a girl. she is a white pig. btw have you ever noticed her ass, she has a single lobbed ass. hehehe... I really pity him man, so sad... waise bolne main kya hain.. just tell her..
I wish I hadn't seen his awestruck face then. He was torn apart. Some how he managed a smile
hehehehe... haan.. waise chalo.. mujhe jaana hain abhi... milta hun...
And all of a sudden, a thing that he was of no concernfor him in the last four months was ruining his sleep. Why did she have to have it like that. What will he do now.. All this four months he was going with a girl who didnt have a perfect ass. God, how could he do that. what his friends would have thought of him.
If he had asked me, I would have asked him to just look at my rear view mirror, and tell what the gal should be thinking of him. But then... he never asked me.
He had to avoid every possible way to see her. No more did he want to pick her up and brake at those bumps. He was in search of an all perfect beauty.
The next day I saw him putting a board in front of the house and the very next day one guy came and bought me. The way he thought of to not pick her up.
I really miss him, but as I said, for him the moments decided hours and some times years. This time the life itself I guess.
Now in this new house, a pomeranian and an alcesian are competing as to who will pee the maximum on my tyres.. naasam pidicha jantukkal.... Bloody dogs..
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Sanjaya Uvaacha. Part - 1
Guys , I think you will be able to understand yourself better if you try to understand your ancestors. No, No,..... i'm not asking for another research on monkeys. Lets get to the time of BhagavatGeeta. Kurukshetra is all set for the "Great Indian Cousins Challenge". On oneside ( the left side) stood The Kouravas facing the pandavas (standing on the north side ). Both ready to fight and kill each other.
And in his Luxurious Palace sat, Dhritarashtra, blind, both visually and willingly mentally too. Yes, ofcourse he was worried about all his 100 sons fighting the pandavas. But how could he get those updates on the war that is happening arround 53.4 KM from his palace. Star News..!!! No. ! Sanjaya. Yes, it was through sanjaya that he was going to get the latest updates on GICC. Though my knowledge of BhagavatGeeta is very limited, I have always wondered about two characters in it. First one obviously The Great Karnan. But the second one rather surprisingly was Sanjaya. The phrase "Sanjaya Uvaacha" always used to echo in my brain.. (chummaathane... enthu thonnyavasavum ezhuthamennanu.. echoed inside his brain.. hmmm)
One very interesting thing about Geeta is that it is entirely written as being told by Sanjaya to Dhritarashtra. Now being an employee of the Dhritarashtra, whether the words Sanjaya would be telling was actually what Dhritarashtra would have liked to hear is a very subjective question. But then there were hardly any incidents that happened during those 18 days that Mr D would have liked to hear. oh...by the way "Dhritarashtra" is a very lengthy word and it is very difficult to remember the spelling so Dhritarashtra a.k.a Mr D. Think about a man who had to tell a father that all his 100 sons died in a battle and he could in no way glorify their deaths. Sanjaya is a character to be studied.
Now coming back to Sanjaya Uvaacha, Mr D blindly trusted Sanjaya. That is Mr D was blind and he trusted Sanjaya. You know what ,... for a man, quoting another testimonial, "Full of Crap Fundas which are very irritating all the times" this would be the best possible thing. So I'm assuming a virtual Mr D who blindly trusts (Sanjaya). A Mr D who can ask anything under the sun be it a very silly question ya a very philosophical one but always will be satisfied with the answer Sanjaya is giving and will never be telling stop these crap fundas coz it is he who wants those answers.
Lets get to our correspondent, live from Dhritarashtra's Palace.
Dhritaraashtra Uvaacha: (Translated from Sanskrit).
"Sanjaya... In this confused world of sorrow and glory, of achievement and happiness, of suppression and expression,
of the elite and the ordinary, of nouns and verbs, of image making and faking, of reputation and relations, of silent violence and violent silence, Why does Superman wear his Chaddi over his pants..?"
Sanjaya Uvaacha : ( Sanjaya knows english)
" Oh My Lord, ...
May be as a child he was very poor, could never wear a chaddi, his friends made fun of him, and now that he is superman he wants to show everyone that he doeas wear a chaddi.
OR
May be , If Superman thinks like me, his chaddi would be of VIP, might be mehengier than his pants and so...
OR
May be zip was not invented at that time, My Lord... Poor Superman."
Dhritarashtra Uvaacha :
" wa wa .. Sanjaya.. wa wa..., btw, talking about zips, Why don't we fit a zip at the back of the pants too?"
Sanjaya Uvaacha :
"Prabho..... Necessity is the mother of all Inventions"
And in his Luxurious Palace sat, Dhritarashtra, blind, both visually and willingly mentally too. Yes, ofcourse he was worried about all his 100 sons fighting the pandavas. But how could he get those updates on the war that is happening arround 53.4 KM from his palace. Star News..!!! No. ! Sanjaya. Yes, it was through sanjaya that he was going to get the latest updates on GICC. Though my knowledge of BhagavatGeeta is very limited, I have always wondered about two characters in it. First one obviously The Great Karnan. But the second one rather surprisingly was Sanjaya. The phrase "Sanjaya Uvaacha" always used to echo in my brain.. (chummaathane... enthu thonnyavasavum ezhuthamennanu.. echoed inside his brain.. hmmm)
One very interesting thing about Geeta is that it is entirely written as being told by Sanjaya to Dhritarashtra. Now being an employee of the Dhritarashtra, whether the words Sanjaya would be telling was actually what Dhritarashtra would have liked to hear is a very subjective question. But then there were hardly any incidents that happened during those 18 days that Mr D would have liked to hear. oh...by the way "Dhritarashtra" is a very lengthy word and it is very difficult to remember the spelling so Dhritarashtra a.k.a Mr D. Think about a man who had to tell a father that all his 100 sons died in a battle and he could in no way glorify their deaths. Sanjaya is a character to be studied.
Now coming back to Sanjaya Uvaacha, Mr D blindly trusted Sanjaya. That is Mr D was blind and he trusted Sanjaya. You know what ,... for a man, quoting another testimonial, "Full of Crap Fundas which are very irritating all the times" this would be the best possible thing. So I'm assuming a virtual Mr D who blindly trusts (Sanjaya). A Mr D who can ask anything under the sun be it a very silly question ya a very philosophical one but always will be satisfied with the answer Sanjaya is giving and will never be telling stop these crap fundas coz it is he who wants those answers.
Lets get to our correspondent, live from Dhritarashtra's Palace.
Dhritaraashtra Uvaacha: (Translated from Sanskrit).
"Sanjaya... In this confused world of sorrow and glory, of achievement and happiness, of suppression and expression,
of the elite and the ordinary, of nouns and verbs, of image making and faking, of reputation and relations, of silent violence and violent silence, Why does Superman wear his Chaddi over his pants..?"
Sanjaya Uvaacha : ( Sanjaya knows english)
" Oh My Lord, ...
May be as a child he was very poor, could never wear a chaddi, his friends made fun of him, and now that he is superman he wants to show everyone that he doeas wear a chaddi.
OR
May be , If Superman thinks like me, his chaddi would be of VIP, might be mehengier than his pants and so...
OR
May be zip was not invented at that time, My Lord... Poor Superman."
Dhritarashtra Uvaacha :
" wa wa .. Sanjaya.. wa wa..., btw, talking about zips, Why don't we fit a zip at the back of the pants too?"
Sanjaya Uvaacha :
"Prabho..... Necessity is the mother of all Inventions"
Monday, October 22, 2007
MMMM... Me, My Mischiefs, and Miscellaneous
Quoting from one of my previous posts,
"Well, I decided not to continue with the rest of my "failure series" stories."
But I still reserve the right to decide whether a story will come under "failure series" or not. Don't I ?
Thus exploiting the loop hole in the decision I took, I'm writing about one of the miscellaneous crushes and let me remind you once again, ......."based on true life incidents".
Unlike my first crush which happened when I was studying in my first std, when I was real immature to handle the complications of such a relationship, this happened after I got a bit matured,............. in my 3rd standard. When I knew a bit more than to just dream, I knew how to act and realize those dreams. Infact by second standard I was aware of my failing relationship with my first crush and might have even tried to grow beard as a memorial of my first failure. But I realized that it is high time to forget the past and move on.
I studied in SMVN, a lower primary school which had classes only till 5th standard. It was, unlike other schools, more like a creche where we had chechis (didi) and not teachers. Our chechis were really sweet, caring and you know, the best chechis one could ever have. They could love all the 100 kids of the school with the same love, and care all of them like their own younger siblings. I stayed very near to my school, around half kilometer from the school.
Just 4 months back, for the first time, after I had left that school, I went there to see all my chechis. Only three of my chechis were still there. When they saw me, for a few seconds, they were totally confused, and then suddenly one of the chechis said
"kannan....., mone da, u still remember all of us"
That one sentence, I 'll never forget. It brought tears in my eyes. I would obviously remember all the chechis in my life. coz I just had three or four chechis in my life. But they must have had hundreds of kannans passing out every year and remembering every one of them, n that too even after 12 years. Chechi, you still remember us. Thats unbelievable. I couldnt stop the tears coming out of my eyes.
Suddenly one chechi came to the staffroom and said, ayyo.. is this the same kannan, who use to write his eyebrows, n lashes everyday. who would put so much of powder, no girl would have ever put that much make up in her entire life. May be to reaffirm the fact that black could get a bit darker than my face, I used to do those things. n she said, you remember what n all mischiefs you have done in my class, I was your Class Teacher. Haan.. chechi, I do remember most of those mischiefs, of those many, one is this miscellaneous crush.
Lets call that lucky girl, Miss XYZ. She studied in his class only, was a friend of his first crush, and used to sit in his bench only. Unlike the previous time, this time he had a fully fledged plan to achieve his goals. He was aware of the fact that for girls, it is very easy. You know they just need an "ishara" and tim, the guy is down. But for boys, if they do just isharas, they'll just keep on doing isharas the entire life. He decided to send some strong signals, signals that will be clear and evident. Thus, during one of those morning intervals, he wrote her name all over the bench with 2 HB pencil. When she came back, she saw her name written all over, gave him a very blank look, and then rubbed those names from the bench with her nataraj eraser . Rather than trying to see the emotional turmoil he is going through, she just took it as a mischief . A few days passed with no more of such violent incidents being reported. He was sure he needs to send a stronger signal. He tied both of their bags together. After the jana gana mana, she untied the knot, took her bag and left home, as if nothing happened. This was not the same guy, whou would now dream some crap like, her dad too will kill some guy, n then he will get her. He had already waited 2 years in that vain hope. But he was awfully broken that day and decided that this sheer ignorance has to be brought to be an end. "Love Me, Hate Me, You just can't ignore me baby" You should understand he was made to take such a drastic step. He wrote his name all over her bag, and that too with the only pen he had. hahahahaha ...............now you ignore me .......
You know what, it worked. This time it was noticed, not just by her, her mom, dad, all my chechis, my headmaster... no one could ignore me anymore. But they all misttok, this seven year old's true love to be a mere mischief. huh... What do they know about love...? atleast i have a prior experience.
Not only they took this as a mischief, but as a mischief worth punishing. I still remember her mom screaming at me " I just bought this new bag only last month, this is worth 275 Rs, how could you ruin this just like that. " Well, for me all other options had exhausted and had to resort to these desperate measures. They scolded me like anything. All of my chechis, my headmaster, and the one and only "her mom" on one side, and the seven year old kid on the other. It was some real tense moments for arround two to three second. I couldnt take more, and I cracked. I cried like a dog when hit by a stone. All this not coz I cared about what they were saying, coz they misunderstood my intentions. I didnt have any intention of ruining her bag. Just wanted to convey the message. But again What did they know about love. I was the one with a prior experience.
But I should say, her mom was very kind to me. First, she didnt tell any of these things to my parents ( I wouldnt have been here to write this blog if that had happened ). Second, she couldnt see a cute little smart intelligent brilliant..blah ..blah.. kid crying ,like a dog when it gets hit by a stone. Suddenly she changed her stand and started consoling me. Though it took some effort from all of them to control the emotions bursting out of my ears, after some time they were succesful. That evening her mom came back to school again , and took me with MIssXYZ to their house.
Miss XYZ had a really beautiful house with two stories. They had a pomeranian dog, and an aquarium in that magnificent house.To this day I remember the colour of the gappies they had in their aquarium, the taste of the strange but really tasty biscuit (though now i doubt whether that was some dog biscuit ) they gave me.But how much ever I try I just can't recall her name. So "lets call that lucky girl Miss XYZ."Though it is very much possible that she's a Mrs ZYX now.
Hopfully not.
"Well, I decided not to continue with the rest of my "failure series" stories."
But I still reserve the right to decide whether a story will come under "failure series" or not. Don't I ?
Thus exploiting the loop hole in the decision I took, I'm writing about one of the miscellaneous crushes and let me remind you once again, ......."based on true life incidents".
Unlike my first crush which happened when I was studying in my first std, when I was real immature to handle the complications of such a relationship, this happened after I got a bit matured,............. in my 3rd standard. When I knew a bit more than to just dream, I knew how to act and realize those dreams. Infact by second standard I was aware of my failing relationship with my first crush and might have even tried to grow beard as a memorial of my first failure. But I realized that it is high time to forget the past and move on.
I studied in SMVN, a lower primary school which had classes only till 5th standard. It was, unlike other schools, more like a creche where we had chechis (didi) and not teachers. Our chechis were really sweet, caring and you know, the best chechis one could ever have. They could love all the 100 kids of the school with the same love, and care all of them like their own younger siblings. I stayed very near to my school, around half kilometer from the school.
Just 4 months back, for the first time, after I had left that school, I went there to see all my chechis. Only three of my chechis were still there. When they saw me, for a few seconds, they were totally confused, and then suddenly one of the chechis said
"kannan....., mone da, u still remember all of us"
That one sentence, I 'll never forget. It brought tears in my eyes. I would obviously remember all the chechis in my life. coz I just had three or four chechis in my life. But they must have had hundreds of kannans passing out every year and remembering every one of them, n that too even after 12 years. Chechi, you still remember us. Thats unbelievable. I couldnt stop the tears coming out of my eyes.
Suddenly one chechi came to the staffroom and said, ayyo.. is this the same kannan, who use to write his eyebrows, n lashes everyday. who would put so much of powder, no girl would have ever put that much make up in her entire life. May be to reaffirm the fact that black could get a bit darker than my face, I used to do those things. n she said, you remember what n all mischiefs you have done in my class, I was your Class Teacher. Haan.. chechi, I do remember most of those mischiefs, of those many, one is this miscellaneous crush.
Lets call that lucky girl, Miss XYZ. She studied in his class only, was a friend of his first crush, and used to sit in his bench only. Unlike the previous time, this time he had a fully fledged plan to achieve his goals. He was aware of the fact that for girls, it is very easy. You know they just need an "ishara" and tim, the guy is down. But for boys, if they do just isharas, they'll just keep on doing isharas the entire life. He decided to send some strong signals, signals that will be clear and evident. Thus, during one of those morning intervals, he wrote her name all over the bench with 2 HB pencil. When she came back, she saw her name written all over, gave him a very blank look, and then rubbed those names from the bench with her nataraj eraser . Rather than trying to see the emotional turmoil he is going through, she just took it as a mischief . A few days passed with no more of such violent incidents being reported. He was sure he needs to send a stronger signal. He tied both of their bags together. After the jana gana mana, she untied the knot, took her bag and left home, as if nothing happened. This was not the same guy, whou would now dream some crap like, her dad too will kill some guy, n then he will get her. He had already waited 2 years in that vain hope. But he was awfully broken that day and decided that this sheer ignorance has to be brought to be an end. "Love Me, Hate Me, You just can't ignore me baby" You should understand he was made to take such a drastic step. He wrote his name all over her bag, and that too with the only pen he had. hahahahaha ...............now you ignore me .......
You know what, it worked. This time it was noticed, not just by her, her mom, dad, all my chechis, my headmaster... no one could ignore me anymore. But they all misttok, this seven year old's true love to be a mere mischief. huh... What do they know about love...? atleast i have a prior experience.
Not only they took this as a mischief, but as a mischief worth punishing. I still remember her mom screaming at me " I just bought this new bag only last month, this is worth 275 Rs, how could you ruin this just like that. " Well, for me all other options had exhausted and had to resort to these desperate measures. They scolded me like anything. All of my chechis, my headmaster, and the one and only "her mom" on one side, and the seven year old kid on the other. It was some real tense moments for arround two to three second. I couldnt take more, and I cracked. I cried like a dog when hit by a stone. All this not coz I cared about what they were saying, coz they misunderstood my intentions. I didnt have any intention of ruining her bag. Just wanted to convey the message. But again What did they know about love. I was the one with a prior experience.
But I should say, her mom was very kind to me. First, she didnt tell any of these things to my parents ( I wouldnt have been here to write this blog if that had happened ). Second, she couldnt see a cute little smart intelligent brilliant..blah ..blah.. kid crying ,like a dog when it gets hit by a stone. Suddenly she changed her stand and started consoling me. Though it took some effort from all of them to control the emotions bursting out of my ears, after some time they were succesful. That evening her mom came back to school again , and took me with MIssXYZ to their house.
Miss XYZ had a really beautiful house with two stories. They had a pomeranian dog, and an aquarium in that magnificent house.To this day I remember the colour of the gappies they had in their aquarium, the taste of the strange but really tasty biscuit (though now i doubt whether that was some dog biscuit ) they gave me.But how much ever I try I just can't recall her name. So "lets call that lucky girl Miss XYZ."Though it is very much possible that she's a Mrs ZYX now.
Hopfully not.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Bathroom Blunders and Realizations
I think, I think a lot when I'm in bathroom, I think about myself, others , the world, the philosophies, the culture, the truth and the lies when I'm in bathroom. May be I'm a constipative thinker. May be thers no word like "constipative thinker".
Anyways, one such thought crossed my mind yesterday. Yesterday night while I was taking bath ( a very rare event that is ) I noticed that the odonil packet inside the bathroom was not actually opened. Thinking who could have done such a blunder I tore open the plastic cover, kept the odonil inside the case and threw the plastic cover in the near by dust bin. European style closet that is. In a flash I realised the blunder I did, the plastic cover is going to get stuck somewhere in the pipe and the whole flow is going to get jammed. Of course my first thought was to take it out from there...
No . wait.. wait. dont run away from my cubicle.. I dint do that. I came back to senses too soon to be on such a blunder spree.
I live with three of my freescale colleagues. All of them always ready (infact waiting) to tear me up for each and every blunder I do. So the first thing and the best thing I did was to flush the toilet. I flushed it some n number of times till every molecule of the plastic became invisible.
All I was thinking then was how to save my self from the facing those
" Who bloody.. put the plastic sheet inside that toilet...???
Don't you even know this much that it'll get stuck in there..??"
Yes baby, I knew it'll get stuck , I knew it'll jam , but I also knew you would ask this question.
So I flushed it and made sure of two things :
1. Now It is sure going to jam
2. The blame wont be on me coz no one will know the cause of the jam. hehe...
With this satisfaction I continued my once in a fortnight venture of taking bath. Really it is such a painful exercise. May be I got this habit of not taking bath from ranchi.. where in the hostel I used to just take the bucket, mug and towel and then have a walk till the bathroom, once in a while. Just to have a feel of how it is like to go to bath. and then I would return realizing it is not such a pleasent exercise after all.. But still I use to walk in the corridor with bucket, mug and the towel, once in a while.
Just like people who dont like the taste of cigarettes but still would keep one in their lips just to have the feel.
Now don't blame me for not bathing coz if you can't understand the pleasure of smoking, the taste of the NavyCut, I never blame you. Its the same for me with bathing.
But then, there were people in our hostel who never even acknowledged the existence of bathrooms . So "thammil bedham thomman thanne.."
May be extreme pain makes people think, n thats why I'm a bathroom thinker. But yesterday something was running like a deamon (background processes in unix) in the fairly large sized air filled brain of mine. On the rights and the wrongs of things I just did.
My Papa always used to tell me "beta dont run away rom problems, face it bravely"
Well, Papa yo must be a very happy man now. I never run away from problems , I always run into it, searching for them, sniffing for them, and always I face it bravely. But I face it bravely to conceal the problems from others, and not to solve it. and when I'm sure no one will now know about the problem I created, There I sit with the satisfaction and reassurance. The reasuurance that the problem will now surface again but now it'll be a problem for all and not just for me.
With the hope that either the pipe won't jam or my flat mates don't read this,
Here I sit, with the same satisfaction and reassurance, ....
Anyways, one such thought crossed my mind yesterday. Yesterday night while I was taking bath ( a very rare event that is ) I noticed that the odonil packet inside the bathroom was not actually opened. Thinking who could have done such a blunder I tore open the plastic cover, kept the odonil inside the case and threw the plastic cover in the near by dust bin. European style closet that is. In a flash I realised the blunder I did, the plastic cover is going to get stuck somewhere in the pipe and the whole flow is going to get jammed. Of course my first thought was to take it out from there...
No . wait.. wait. dont run away from my cubicle.. I dint do that. I came back to senses too soon to be on such a blunder spree.
I live with three of my freescale colleagues. All of them always ready (infact waiting) to tear me up for each and every blunder I do. So the first thing and the best thing I did was to flush the toilet. I flushed it some n number of times till every molecule of the plastic became invisible.
All I was thinking then was how to save my self from the facing those
" Who bloody.. put the plastic sheet inside that toilet...???
Don't you even know this much that it'll get stuck in there..??"
Yes baby, I knew it'll get stuck , I knew it'll jam , but I also knew you would ask this question.
So I flushed it and made sure of two things :
1. Now It is sure going to jam
2. The blame wont be on me coz no one will know the cause of the jam. hehe...
With this satisfaction I continued my once in a fortnight venture of taking bath. Really it is such a painful exercise. May be I got this habit of not taking bath from ranchi.. where in the hostel I used to just take the bucket, mug and towel and then have a walk till the bathroom, once in a while. Just to have a feel of how it is like to go to bath. and then I would return realizing it is not such a pleasent exercise after all.. But still I use to walk in the corridor with bucket, mug and the towel, once in a while.
Just like people who dont like the taste of cigarettes but still would keep one in their lips just to have the feel.
Now don't blame me for not bathing coz if you can't understand the pleasure of smoking, the taste of the NavyCut, I never blame you. Its the same for me with bathing.
But then, there were people in our hostel who never even acknowledged the existence of bathrooms . So "thammil bedham thomman thanne.."
May be extreme pain makes people think, n thats why I'm a bathroom thinker. But yesterday something was running like a deamon (background processes in unix) in the fairly large sized air filled brain of mine. On the rights and the wrongs of things I just did.
My Papa always used to tell me "beta dont run away rom problems, face it bravely"
Well, Papa yo must be a very happy man now. I never run away from problems , I always run into it, searching for them, sniffing for them, and always I face it bravely. But I face it bravely to conceal the problems from others, and not to solve it. and when I'm sure no one will now know about the problem I created, There I sit with the satisfaction and reassurance. The reasuurance that the problem will now surface again but now it'll be a problem for all and not just for me.
With the hope that either the pipe won't jam or my flat mates don't read this,
Here I sit, with the same satisfaction and reassurance, ....
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