Clustered Cerebellum

A Victory Smile

2023-02-09T15:07:00.002+05:30

“Kill them all and rust in peace” was the wording that Mike had put up on one of his walls in his room. This poster was the most prominent amongst all the other death metal band’s posters he had put. Listening to death metal bands and playing video games were his pastime. He would lock himself in his room for hours, even days together. Given a choice he would be like this for ever. His college life was meaningless to him. He never understood what was being taught and what was he reading. His parents were worried as to what is going to come of him. They tried their best to convince him to study and be like everyone else.

“I hate all of you, I hate the world, I hate my life, get out of my room” Mike shouted when his mother knocked on his room door. Like any Indian mother, she started crying. “What did I do wrong? Oh God, please help me, what sin have I done?” Mike’s mom prayed. “Your God will not help you, he will never listen to you” Mike lamented. “What in the world is wrong with you?” she cried. “Nothing is wrong with me, I am perfectly fine, just don’t disturb me” Mike shouted back from his room.

That night, Mike’s mom woke up from a bad dream. She looked at the watch, it was 3 AM. She thought of checking what her son was doing. As she walked towards his room, she saw lights coming out from beneath the door. What is the world is he doing now? She thought as she approached his room. Instead of knocking she preferred to listen to what was happening.

“Oh my demon, my Satan, the one on whom I believe, where art thou, come to this world, come to me, I want you to be guide, my savior, take my soul, I present myself to you” Mike’s mother was listening with utter horror and disbelief. She immediately knocked the door hard, so hard that it flung open. Mike was on his knees, stark naked, with a candle in front of him. His long hair was untied, resembling a zombie, he looked towards his mother. “Get out of my room” he said with his teeth clenched.

Mike’s mother cried inconsolably, his father woke up to find this to his utter shock. They both decide the handle the situation the next morning. Mike was fast asleep when his mother woke him up. As usual he was not ready to wake up and wanted to sleep for some more time. “Mom, I am very tired, please let me sleep” is all he said. To this his mother thought that she should let him sleep.

“Mom, who the hell lit candles in my room, my carpet is destroyed” Mike screamed at the top of voice. His parents were clueless about what was happening to their son. “I will kill that person when I find out” Mike continued to shout. “None of you will be spared from my wrath” he slammed the door behind as he walked out of the house.

Mike returned home that evening, only to find that no one was in the house. He went to his parent’s bedroom to check. He found both of them sleeping. He sat beside his mom, staring at her. How can you sleep so peacefully when your son’s life is ruined? He asked gently. Answer me mom, how could you? I need help, I am the demon, and I know that you don’t like me as I am. You hate me, you never loved me, you never cared for me, and that’s why I hate you. Dad, how can you do this to me? How can you just watch your son’s life go away in waste? Why did you not scold me? Why did you not take care of? I need you. I hate you, I just hate you. Answer me. Mike started to cry as he kept questioning his parents, while they were asleep. I know you won’t answer, coz you hate me, I am not your son. Mike continued to cry and talk. I am not your son; Mike said again and walked out of the room, went to his room and fell asleep.

The next day, Mike woke up to a noise coming from the living room. Almost the entire neighborhood was there in his living room. Everyone was looking at him while he came down the stairs. “What are these people here for?” he thought. “Mom, the entire colony is here, where are you?” he shouted as he picked up the morning newspaper. “Son, you need to come inside your parent’s room” one of the elders said. He goes inside the room to find his parents in the same position as they were last night. He looked at them. “Are they dead?” he asked. “Yes son” someone replied.

Mike looked at his parent’s dead body and smiled.

A victory smile

BENEFITS OF RUNNING

2022-01-20T17:13:00.001+05:30

BENEFITS OF YOGA

2022-01-12T21:01:00.000+05:30

Story in an hour

2017-06-30T20:03:00.003+05:30

Story in an hour

This is something that I last did when I was working for Cognizant. I don’t remember the exact year but it has been some time since I last did this. The task is to write a story within an hour, a story with a beginning, a plot, and an end. Alright then, let’s see if I can do this.

**********

THE INSTITUTION

“I read it somewhere” Munx said as he stood up to search something on his computer table.

“What?” Jay asked.

“It helps to concentrate when you listen to music without words in it” Munx replied as he started lifting everything on his computer table one by one.

“Yeah, right” Jay said and went back to staring at his book.

“Here, see? Here it is, right here” Munx said as he sat down next to Jay.

Listening to music without any words in it may help you concentrate more, especially while reading a book. Jay started reading aloud and then his voice became thinner as he became engrossed in the article. After a while they both were silent. Munx started reading a book with his earphones on while Jay was still engrossed in the magazine article. Munx slowly started to drift into his dreams.

Munx’s room is a typical college going kid’s room with posters of rock bands, computer, papers lying around, clothes everywhere, a bean bag and lots of other stuff lying around. Munx rarely cleans his room. He likes it that way as he puts it, just like those kids in the movies. Jay, his close friend makes it a point to meet Munx every day after college. They both grew up in the neighborhood and they both attend same college. A typical scenario in every city in the world, I believe. Jay is a nerd, dreaming of making it big in the IT industry someday while Munx is a complete mess. He has no dreams, no goals, and nothing worthwhile to mention. He is the one who does what he is told to do, read, passes the exams and then lives in his own world.

Jay wants to make it big; he has got dreams of becoming an IT entrepreneur someday. Jay’s mother is a teacher and father is an engineer with the PWD in the state government. Munx’s father is a politician and mother is a social worker. His father and mother rarely have time for Munx. He pretty much grew up with his grandparents.

“Alright, this sounds like a bollywood movie plot where one of these two will make it big while the other will languish somewhere with nothing to do. The hero coming back from the city to save the day for the villagers. Why can’t people write simple stories? Eh? Stories which is not related to any other story in the world. A different story, you know. Why does it have to be struggling, sad, rags to riches, poor against rich, politics, relationships, why can’t we have some story where there is something else? I know this is a copy of a story that you read somewhere in some language and you are trying to present in the language that you and I are talking at the moment. Why is it that each one of you is so influenced? Why is it that you can’t produce anything on your own? I have been with you for over a year now and every time I read your stories, it is either a different rendition of a bollywood story or a Hollywood story. Sometimes, some of you are so smart that you mix both and present in your own way. Why is it that you cannot write anything on your own?” Mr. Sharma went ballistic while hearing a story from one of his students.

Get out!! all of you, and write a new story and come back tomorrow. He shouted and sat down on his chair and started to look out the window. Mr. Sharma looked like he was wondering about his future in the college and the quality of the students that he had in his class.

This is not going anywhere, I have to bring in the plot and take the story to its logical end. Logical or illogical, it does not matter; it has to be a good ending.

Like we going on a honeymoon? Sunita laughed while she woke up Munx from his sleep.

“Get up” she said as she tapped Munx’s shoulders. Hey Jay, wake up, why are you both sleeping at this time of the day, it’s almost 5 in the evening man, break time is almost over, guys get up” Sunita said as she sat down on the bean bag.

“Oh Man, I was dreaming about Mr Sharma and the class” Munx said as he stood up and took out his earphones.

“What? That dude is still troubling you with the Can’t-you-write-anything-on-your-own stuff? Sunita laughed.

“Yeah Man, that sucks big time. I don’t know what he wants from us” Munx quipped

“Excellence, dude, excellence” Sunita said it aloud with both her hands in the air.

“Yeah, excellence, my ass” Jay said.

So? What are you here for? Munx asked Sunita

Oh, I came to invite you guys to my cousin’s wedding. She said

What? Who? Come on, you have a cousin? How come we don’t know about? Munx said.

Did she pop up from somewhere? Jay added

Nooooo, Duhhh, she is my distant cousin from my mother’s side. Sunita replied

Oh, Ok. When is the wedding? Munx asked

Today!! She replied

What? How can it be today? Today is Monday; we can go out only on Sundays. Munx replied.

So what if its Monday today, the wedding is today and it is going to happen in the chapel next to the temple. Sunita replied.

How can you get married at a chapel, you are a Hindu! Jay said.

Why not? She is getting married to a Christian. Sunita retorted.

No No, she can’t get married on Monday. Munx started to argue.

Why not, why not, Sunita replied.

No No, She can’t get married on Monday. Munx started to repeat.

Why not, why not, Sunita also started to repeat.

The argument started to heat up.

All of a sudden, Munx punched Sunita. She started to cry.

Why are you crying Sunita? Jay asked.

Because Munx punched me

Why did you punch her? Jay asked. To that Munx punched Jay and said I can punch anybody I want.

I can punch anyone I want. See? I can punch you, I can punch you and I can punch…….

“Not me buddy, not me” The guard held Munx’s hand and cuffed him.

Allan! yo, cuff the girl and the boy too. These kids won’t stop the argument. They are getting more violent day by day.

Allan quickly cuffs both Jay and Sunita and takes them to their respective rooms.

Alright boys and girls break time over, back to your rooms now, back to your rooms. The guard shouted to everyone.

“Mr. Sharma, the boys and girls are getting wilder, what can be done?” The guard asked as Mr Sharma slowly turned towards the guard showing his face.

Now, ain't that quite a story Mr Edwards? Mr Sharma quipped as he stood up.

My Institution, where new stories will be written every day. Nice

Always with me, now with you

2016-09-29T15:52:00.000+05:30

Why are you staring at the keyboard?

I want to type something but can’t figure out what to type.

Sounds like you are confused

Yes, I am confused.

Why do you think you are confused?

There are too many things happening at the same time, that is why, I guess.

Are you guessing or are you sure about it?

No, I am not sure about it.

Then what are you sure about?

I am sure that I want to write something.

What is it that you want to write?

I don’t know. A story? May be

May be? You are still confused

Fine, I will write a story.

What kind of story?

I don’t know

Are you this unsure all the time?

Yes, I am.

Finally, something that you are sure of!

Stop. Get out of my mind and let me type.

Whatever!!

Is he gone? I begin to wonder as I begin to type. The sound of the keyboard slowly started to occupy the room. The silence started to creep in as I started to delve in my story. A hot summer afternoon in Imphal can be sweltering at times making you sweat even while you are just sitting and reading a book. However, in this sweltering heat, a gentle breeze is all you need to cool down so that you could concentrate.

Oh Damn, I can’t concentrate, it is too hot. I need to take a bath.

What? You already gave up?

Oh, there you are, back again to remind me of my inability to write, questioning me all the time. Bugger

I will always question you, my dear. I am you

How can you be me? You are so not me. You always remind me of the man people want me to be, the quintessential “perfect” man.

Oh, do I?

Oh yes, you do. You are always telling me to think before doing anything. You are always there to question my confidence when I want to do anything. You are always there to stop me from almost everything that I want to do.

But you have always done what you wanted to do. You never listened to me.

That is the point, why should I listen to you? Why are you here?

I can’t leave you, buddy. I am just inseparable from you. I will be there wherever you are.

Oh, bugger off, leave me alone.

Oh hello, why are you talking to yourself? What happened? Deepak Asked as he closed the door.

Oh no, I wasn’t. It was just. Forget it. How are you? What’s up? Have a seat. I said as I opened the fridge door.

“Nothing much, just came by to see how you are doing, I mean, last night was a sad scene. You should not have hit him, man. I mean, he is your friend.” Deepak started to rumble while I poured a glass of water.

See? Now he is here to tell you how you should behave in public.

Go away!

“What do you mean I should not have hit him? He is not my friend. I just know him. What was I supposed to do when I was provoked so much? I will hit if he does it again.” I said as I sat down the sofa. “Oh, you want anything to drink?” I continued.

What are you answering? Think before you answer

“No man, I am cool, I just had lunch, late lunch. But anyway, let’s not argue about yesterday any further. People must be scared of you by now. The way you hit him, we thought he is going to die man” Deepak said as he took out a pack of cigarette from his pocket.

Good if he was dead. That’s not a good thought. You should forgive and forget. Oh shut up

“I don’t see any reason for people to be afraid of me. I reacted to the provocation and besides any man would react if his wife is getting teased. So what if he was her ex-boyfriend. He should have sat there quietly.” I said as I took a sip of water. “Who invited him to the party, by the way?”

Rajesh. Deepak replied.

That asshole.

“But why? He is not even amongst our friend circle” I asked.

“He is Rajesh’s brother in law” Deepak replied.

“What? He is married to Reshma?” I quipped. I didn’t know this.

“How would you? You have been away for a long time dude?” Deepak replied.

See? This is what you lose when you are out of your home for a long time. Urrghhh

“So, what’s your plan for the evening? Where is your wife?” Deepak asked

“I have no plans. She is upstairs taking a nap”

“OK, I got to go now, I just came to see how you are doing, don’t take this forward and make a scene out of it again. Ok?” he said as he opened the door.

Ok man. Bye.

See? How people see you? React to your reaction? Judge you? What are you going to do? What are you say to your wife? What is she going to think about you? How are you going to face her?

Hmmmm, I don’t have to face her at all. Never.

Why?

Because she is with you.

Bangalore to Imphal Drive (Part 2)

2016-07-27T16:32:00.002+05:30

Bangalore to Imphal Drive (Part 2)

Continued from part one

Day 5

Varanasi to Kishanganj (oops Rampurhat)

It was the best sleep of the journey so far. I woke up fresh and early. The ancient hotel called Hotel Natraj was our host last night. The only reason I vividly remember this hotel’s name is because the hotel is very old and bears a typical British era kind of architecture, which I like.

The breakfast was ok and then we headed off. It was going to be a mammoth task to reach Kishanganj in West Bengal. And it between us and Kishanganj was the whole state of Bihar. We were warned by our much-loved ones to be careful in Bihar. We were narrated stories after stories of incidents in Bihar. Some were hilarious while some were unbelievable.

I had to see to believe it. Alright then, let’s drive.

Now, getting onto the Asian Highway 1 was a big task. The unforgiving Varanasi traffic made us realize that Kishanganj is a distant dream. The further I drive the more distant Kishnaganj became. My initial idea was to reach Aurangabad and then to Gaya then to Begusarai and then to Purnea then to Kishanganj.

We reached Aurangabad and met an interesting boy running a small shop just outside the dhaaba where we stopped for a tea break. I cannot remember his name but I remember his mission in life was to become a software Engineer.

The Asian Highway 1 is a kickass road. It was all cement. Not the regular Bitumen Asphalt. Take a look. Bihar rocks!

After a while we crossed into Jharkhand. Dang Jharkhand! How? Why? We aren’t supposed to be on this road. I missed the turn. We are not on the way to Gaya but somewhere else. It was not somewhere else; it was the famous “Jhumri Talaiya”. A place I kept hearing on the radio when I was kid. I always thought the place is a fake but I was right there, standing on a road at Jhumri Talaiya wondering where to go now.

The big wide AH1 gave way to a narrow road which did not even resemble a highway. Alright, time to use the GPS on the phone. We cannot go back, we needed a new route.

The GPS showed the nearest road to Kishanganj which consisted of a mix of national and state highways. We were still a good 10 hours away from Kishanganj. We were genuinely lost and the sun was setting slowly. I selected Rampurhat as our next stop. It is in West Bengal and relatively felt safer than finding a place to stop in Jharkhand. Don’t know why but just felt that way.

I kept driving and then the rain gods decided to unleash some excess water. A small dingy road in the name of a highway, no signboards, no trucks, no one else on the road, just the two of us and I was driving to an unknown destination while hoping to reach there alive. To top it all Mr Kumar Sanu was belting out his numbers from the movie Aashique. Shit scared, we cared a hoot for what was playing on the stereo and we had no clue where we were. The GPS wasn’t accurate. It wasn’t showing anything. I felt like I was driving in a circle.

It was already 10:30PM when the rain slowed down and I could make out the night sky. At the distance I saw lights in the sky which told me that it is a city. Small or big, it does not matter; I will drive in that direction.

After some time, I took a right turn and came onto a bigger highway. There we saw, Rampurhat, 14 Kms. Both of us breaded a sigh of relief. We knew we will find a place to sleep, however that place may be. But before that, let’s eat.

We were looking at each other while we waited for the food. Sparky does not like flat breads but he ate 3 that night. He had no choice and no alcohol.

Now, we went out for hotel hunting at midnight. There were no rooms in the first hotel that we asked and then no one woke up at the next two. That was the time I told myself, fuck it, I need a room even if it is a 5 star hotel. I saw a board which advertised a hotel called Sonar Bangla. I did not reach that hotel but found another hotel before reaching there. It was called Sher-e-Punjab. Dang, Punjab in West Bengal. Whatever! I have to sleep.

The hotel guy did not give us any discount even though we told him that we were there only till 9 in the morning. He still charged us for a whole day. Freak.

Helpless and tired, we took the room and just crashed.

Crashed.

You know

Crashed.

Day 6

Rampurhat to Kishanganj

When you crash, you crash.

It was 10 AM when I opened my eyes. But no one came to through us out. Why would they, we paid for a day.

We were massively hungry; we decided to have a big breakfast.

“I was shit scared last night” I said.

“Me too” Sparky replied.

“And what was that music playing?” I said

“What? That was Ashique” Sparky laughed.

It was time for us to leave.

It was still raining when we started. We had to make to Kishanganj today. GPS showed that we could reach in 5 hours. I thought we could probably make it till Siliguri or New Jalpaiguri. Let’s see.

The back breaking road continued. And in the middle of all this, we forgot to click pictures since yesterday. Our focus was so much on crossing Jharkhand that we forgot to enjoy the view and the place.

Anyway, let’s see if we can start clicking again. While driving I realized that we will be crossing the Farakka Barage in a while. I remember this barrage when I was a kid. I saw this road plus railway bridge and I was awestruck by its sheer size and length. Now, several years later, I was about to drive my car and cross it on my own.

Oh no, not so soon.

Jam

Traffic jam

We were stuck in this jam for about 3 hours before we could cross the Barrage.

We got on to the barrage hoping to take some pictures of the mighty Ganges but there were policemen stationed almost every 100 meters and they checked every passing vehicle for people taking pictures of the barrage. Well, this must an important barrage.

It wasn’t open traffic after crossing the barrage. We spent another 2 hours trying to cross the city of Malda. We started at noon from Rampurhat and by the time we were at Malda, it was 6PM. We had lost a lot of time. We missed lunch since we were stuck in the jam till 6. We decided to have a light snack before we headed out for the night till Kishanganj or Siliguri.

The road was much better after Malda. We made a mad dash for Kishanganj. It was about 8:30 PM when we came onto a 4 lane highway which we later on found out that it was NH27.

We arrived at Kishanganj at about 10 PM. We stopped at a dhaaba which had lodging too. We ate our heart out and checked into the room.

A single room with a toilet, that was all.

“Why is that train sound coming towards us?” I thought for a while. May be the station is near. It became nearer and nearer every time it hooted. And then the whole room shook and the train went zooming pass at its fastest possible speed. Oh yeah, It is going to be a great night.

Day 7

Kishanganj to Guwahati (Ooops again Bongaigaon)

I must have slept like a log; I did not hear anything last night. I was not woken up by anything. I woke up with a huge apprehension of what was going to happen today. We were at the gates of North East India. And knowing the place too well, it was an uneasy feeling heading into Assam.

The scenery became much greener as we kept driving towards Assam. We crossed into Assam by Mid day. I clicked many pictures on my DSLR but I don’t have anyone of them now. I transferred all the files from the camera SD card to my laptop and then to my external hard drive. And then both of them crashed. 8 years of photographs and many other documents, all gone. Just like that. Putuk. Can’t be recovered anymore. I just might have to send it to a forensic lab to get it recovered.

Thanks to Google photo back up, some of the pictures were backed up from the phone that I was using at that time. Even that phone is gone as soon as I reached Imphal. Anyway, those itself is another story.

Our lunch was at a dhaaba just before Alipurdwar. It was a heavy lunch and I kind of feeling a little drowsy as the day was coming to an end. I handed over the car to Sparky after driving alone all the way till here. He was ecstatic and he was thinking that I would never ask. He started driving and I took out my shoes and started to relax.

After a while, we came across the first police check post in this whole journey. We were never stopped by any police till now. The police showed a red light. Sparky did slow down but did not stop. He was about to accelerate when one policeman jumped in front of us. I said stop.

The policeman checked our documents. Asked us few questions and asked us to make and entry. I asked how much is the entry fee for and why is that? 5000 rupees and Assam police tax it seems. We negotiated and we agreed on 1500. They were blatant and were shameless in asking money.

I took over the driving from there on. Sparky drove for about 30 kilometers or so. Then the next stop, then the next stop and then the next. All in all we were stopped for 4 times before we could reach Bongaigaon. Each time we had to pay to proceed further. Then I decided to spend the night in Bongaigaon.

We were still made to pay even though we had all the documents clear. I don’t know what to say to that. Anyway, it is better to be alive than to be shot dead.

We found a hotel and crashed for the night.

And as it would have it, everything ends early in the North East. We barely managed to get dinner. And then a friend of mine tells me on Whatsapp that the place where we were is a militant infested area.

Good night.

Day 8

Bogaigaon to Guwahati

The North East experience had already started yesterday. We woke up early, almost naturally. We had a good breakfast at a dhaba and headed towards Guwahati. I was expecting to reach Guwahati at least by noon.

I was in touch with an old school friend who lives in Guwahati. I was hoping to meet him and catch up.

Forget the cameras, just enjoy the drive. It was raining, what could I shoot? The rain did not stop till the time we arrived at the famous Saraighat Bridge over the mighty Brahmaputra River.

It was a pleasant sight to see another bridge being constructed just next to the old one. A much needed development.

Guwahati, has leapfrogged every other city of the North East. It is the hub of all business activities of the North East. The last time I was in Guwahati was in the year 1999. The city landscape has changed.

We drove up to a hotel near the Manipuri Basti in Guwahati. Hotel Shiroy. And to sparky’s shocker, there was no alcohol available on that day. Apparently, no alcohol is available on the last day of the month and the first day of the month. It was the 1^st of Aug 2015 when we reached Guwahati. The first day of the month, so, no alcohol. Sparky went bonkers

We checked in and settled down. Had lunch and rested for a while.

It was evening and sparky wasn’t ready to come along with me.

Amarjit, My dear friend since school, came to pick me up from the hotel.

It was a lovely evening well spent in the company of a friend and his family.

Tomorrow was going to be the last leg of the journey.

Day 9

Guwahati to Imphal

I wanted to start early from Guwahati. I had bought 3 Red Bulls on the way back to the hotel last night. Sparky wasn’t asleep when I reached, he was still drinking and was still awake when I woke up at 2:30 AM.

I woke him up, checked out and then started towards Imphal.

The road was empty till Nagaon. It was 5:30 AM when we arrived there. I continued to drive till we decided to stop for breakfast at around 6:30 AM.

At breakfast, my heart started to beat a little faster. I was more scared of Nagaland than Assam. The Nagaland stories that I heard were more horrifying than others. And I was about to drive in to the state. Anyway, let’s see.

We continued our journey amongst the winding roads leading to Dimapur. We reached Dimapur at about 8 AM and then started the climb towards Kohima. The roads seemed a little less congested, there were fewer vehicles on the road and most shops were closed. We began to wonder.

And then it dawned to us, it was a Sunday.

I accelerated towards Kohima, bending and twisting on the unforgiving Asian Highway number 1. It is more of a narrow alley than a highway. Trying to find a decent patch of road amongst the potholes, we finally managed to reach Kohima at about 11 AM.

The city wore a deserted look because of the day being a Sunday. And even the police do not seem to work on a Sunday in Nagaland. They saw my car, a Karnataka registered car but no one stopped me, may be they will stop me at the Manipur Nagaland border. Let’s see

This is the time I wish I had those pictures still intact with me. How on earth did I lose all those pictures? One hard disk crashed, that seems relatively ok since there was a back up on another drive, but then again, that back itself crashes. On top of that phone also dies. What can I call it?

Anyway, the drive from Kohima till Imphal was going to be all downhill. It was going to be faster and I needed to be little more alert. So, down goes another Red Bulls and I got some more wings.

Mao, the border town between Manipur and Nagaland was completely deserted. Police did not bother to stop us. All shops were closed, almost all actually.

As I drove down the hill towards Imphal, memories of this highway started to ring a bell, the times when I was a student and I used to travel on this highway on a bus. I was stuck during a landslide once; my earliest memory of this highway was when I travelled with my father to Guwahati. All these were going on in the brain when I finally saw the Imphal valley in front of me. I took a shot and I had thought it was beautiful and had also thought of how to post process that image, but that did not happen.

It was 1:30 when we decided to stop at Sekmai and have lunch. It was good to taste Manipuri food after a long time. We were about 20 kilometers outside Imphal.

And as I reached Chigmeirong, hardly 2 kilometers from my house, I screamed my lungs out. I had made it. Dang, I made it. 4000 kms, 9 days and a lifetime of memories later I was home.

My mother was ready to welcome us.

There it is, my Bangalore to Imphal drive, something that I wondered if I would be able to do it. Well, I did it. Didn’t i?

The Bengaluru to Imphal Drive (part 1)

2016-07-26T11:58:00.003+05:30

The Bengaluru to Imphal Drive

25^th July 2015 to 2^nd Aug 2015

It was December 2000, when I first reached Bengaluru. I had just graduated from my PG Diploma course. Things were new and things looked pretty exciting. My brother and I moved into a house in Lingarajpuram and that is where it all started; our Bengaluru sojourn.

Cut to 2016, and this city had given us both the freedom and all the moments that one could ever ask for. From bad to good to worst, it was all there. I got into a world where I thought I could never be. Made some lifelong friends and collected almost a million years worth of memories. It was a life that had its own pros and cons. While it was good in socializing and having a great time, the warmth and love of a family was always missing. Here we were, two boys, completely cut off from the feeling called family. The family “connection” was only through phone. And it had taken its toll by the time I realized. I was way far disconnected from my parents. I could not relate to anything that was happening to them. I was drifting away.

The love was always there. There is no doubt about it. There was something missing. Always.

How much could you talk on the phone?

So, why don’t you call them here?

Oh yeah, I did try that one. They would have surely come and stayed with us for the rest of their lives but to ask someone to leave a place where they were born and lived for more than half a century? That was a little too much for me. Asking them to adjust to a lifestyle alien to them? And knowing them, I knew it was a tough ask.

But I had to do something about it. Dad was explicit in making his feelings heard. “You bloody come back”, that was what he said. Mom was the understanding one. How can you just drop everything there and come back? But yes, it will be good if someone is here at home out of the three of you.

So? What now?

Elder son’s dilemma? Or something else? I had to decide.

It was during my trip in April 2015 when I saw a lot of things which were hidden from me. Things that made me realize that it would not have happened had I been here. Things that made me realize how lonely my parents were. It just hit me really hard. I wanted to come back and be with them for as long as I could. 20 years of staying away from them had made a huge dent in my life. That’s it, I am coming back.

In between all of it, I made the biggest decision of my life. I proposed Jaya and she said yes. Then I got stumped. Marriage was never on the cards until I met her. Dated several women in my life but never really wanted to get married, dodged several bullets, as a friend of mine put it, could not dodge this one. My parents were super happy. I could see that they really wanted me to get married. And I did not want to get married just like that and then come back to Bengaluru, leaving my parents again. Let them have the pleasure and happiness of having a daughter-in-law at home. However, the wedding was scheduled in November 2015.

And then it all came down to what do I do? The question was what am I going to do for a living once I return? Job? What kind of job? Self-employ? What? What about the law and order situation of Manipur? Will I be able to adjust? Open a shop? What kind of shop? And sell what? How do I earn?

You know what? Fuck it. Let’s just go and see what happens?

I mean, isn’t that what I have done all these years? Just do and think later.

What about my black beauty? Should I sell the car? Nope. No way.

Oh bloody hell, let’s drive.

Alone?

Yeah, if need be. Let’s see how it turns out. For now, let’s concentrate on disposing some of the stuffs that I will never need.

So, the packing and shipping of personal stuff that I would need back home, started by early July. I packed everything I could and sent that stuff through the good old Indian postal service. Then the farewell parties started. As soon as I broke the news to my dearest friend Deepak, he looked at me and said, “You must be crazy to drive that distance”. In fact I actually had asked him if he would like to join. Bugger said no. During that time around, one of my uncles with whom I was raised, was in town for some work. He is about 2 years older to me, more of a friend than an uncle. So, I asked him if he would like to give me company. He was like, ok.

All set and done; parties over, farewells and all done, we started our long journey on the 25^th of July 2015 and I am typing about the trip exactly a year later. I could have written down everything then and there, but I did not want to do that. I wanted to see how much I could recollect the journey after a year.

I would be lying if I say I was not scared of the journey ahead. I was pretty scared and had no idea what lay ahead. However, I was pretty sure that this is going to be something that I will remember till I die.

Day one:

Bengaluru to Nizamabad

It was already noon when I woke up after the last farewell party. After a good breakfast, we headed out for the highway at about 12:30 PM. It was a normal chaotic Bengaluru road till the airport. That was the first toll booth of many to come. Soon we were in Andhra Pradesh, our second state out of the 10 that I plan to cover. I did not want to do the normal east coast road. Instead, I wanted to cut right across the central part of India and then turn right. So, the plan was to drive through Hyderabad then to Nagpur then to Jabalpur then to Varanasi then to Siliguri then to Guwahati and then to Imphal. That was the rough map that I had in mind. No GPS to track. That was the plan.

The Planned route map.

My partner in crime, Mr Romi, a.k.a “Spark” is a policeman by profession and a lover of anything that contains alcohol. He was my sidekick for this journey. I intended to drive alone all the way. Let’s see how it goes.

It was about 2 or 2:30 in the afternoon when we stopped for lunch at Anantapur in Andhra Pradesh. Saw a lovely temple with a different design. Don’t know whose temple it was but it was a good looking temple. Here is the picture

The temple at Anantapur, Andhra Pradesh

After a good lunch, we headed off towards Hyderabad, expecting to reach there by 8 PM or so. We were not in any hurry. There was no deadline; there was no minimum speed to maintain; no nothing. We stopped whenever we wanted; I drove at whatever speed I wanted. However, the only thing was, we wanted to reach a city and find a hotel before 10PM.

The NH7 was bathing in the orange light of the dropping sun when we saw the board which said “Hyderabad 60 Kms”. Then I thought; another hour or so and then we will be in Hyderabad. Find a hotel, eat some nice Hyderabadi biryani and have a nice sleep. Nice idea? Hmmm. Not quite.

Trucks! And more trucks, that is all we saw on the highway. Trucks of different length, width and height; and all of them drove as if they own the road. They control the pace of the highway. Well almost. And then it was there, the most dreaded thing that I wanted to avoid, the thing that I was used to in Bengaluru for every single day. Wait, hang on a second. May be Hyderabad has a different flavor to it. May be it will keep moving at least. No, it is not. It is the same thing as Bengaluru. How can traffic jam be different from city to city? It is all freaking same, everyone honking and trying to cut through each other, everyone is in a hurry. Dang!

It was already 9 PM when we managed to reach the ring road of Hyderabad. It was a relief to drive on that road. What was it, 4 or 6 lanes on each side? Whatever! It was a super wide road. And it seemed like it will never end. I kept driving on that road like an eternity. We completely avoided the city by taking that road, which was good. By the time we reached the other highway towards Nizamabad, Hyderabad was way behind.

Then the hotel hunt started.

It was getting late and I started to think that we may not get a place to crash. Above that, the call of the alcohol god had already started. So we needed to find a place as soon as we can. But then again, we were too hungry. Let’s eat first.

We stopped at a Punjabi dhaba just outside Hyderabad. There we asked about lodging and stuff but there was none. The only place that we could find will be in Nizamabad; that was the word that we got from the people around. How far is Nizamabad? Another hour or so.

Ok. Let’s eat. Where is the Daaru? (alcohol) No Daaru available. What? Are you crazy? I asked. No sir, some election is there so no daaru today, the waiter replied nicely. However if you can drink in the car I will get the stuff for you, said the waiter. Or if you want to drink in the dhaba then you would need to drink in steel glasses and secretly. See? This country is the best. You get to bend anything and everything. Drinking alcohol in steel glasses at an open dhaba? and that too without people noticing you? That sounds interesting. Let’s do this.

My energy level was still great. All thanks to the 2 Red Bulls I had during the day. It was about 11 PM when we started driving towards Nizamabad.

Empty roads and the ever present stray dogs greeted us when we arrived at Nizamabad. The best place to find a hotel is near the railway station. So, we headed straight for the railway station, a good 15-20 kms away from the main highway.

And then, there it was; our first hotel in the journey, Indur Inn, managed by the Telangana Tourism. Oh, we were in the newest state of India. We woke up the guard and we checked in. The receptionist asked for our ID cards. I showed my PAN card and “Sparky” showed his driver’s license. To that, the receptionist looked at him and demanded to see his passport, thinking that he is a foreigner. “Sparky” looks like an alien. Maybe that was why the receptionist asked for his passport. He showed his police ID card and then it was done. We had a good laugh till we reached our room.

We called it a night at about 1AM and “Sparky” had to go through the nightmare of bearing my snoring.

Next day, Nagpur beckons

Day 2

Nizamabad to Nagpur

Finding a hotel near a railway station is a good idea. I had a good sleep while Sparky was unable to sleep because of my stereophonic snoring through the night. Poor chap.

We checked out after breakfast. Next stop Nagpur.

It was normal city traffic till we reached the Highway. Incessant honking, zig zag driving, stopping wherever they want. Nizamabad wasn’t any different when it came to city traffic.

It was bliss once we hit the highway. And then we hit the first toll booth where the two dudes asked me where I was from. They thought I was a foreigner. Hee hee.

And then we saw this road.

I was hoping that the highway is like these all the way till Nagpur.

Oh no, it was not to be the case.

We crossed Telangana and as soon as we hit Maharashtra, we were greeted with a single lane highway, with a bullock cart crawling on the highway.

Few kilometers inside Maharshtra, the single lane highway continued for a while. I almost broke my back literally while navigating on that road. We decided to have lunch. And as it would have it, every dhaaba is distinct in this country. Take a look at the menu card.

Good lunch and then we headed out. The single lane highway gave way to a swanking 4 lane highway after some time. It was 4 lanes all the way till Nagpur.

It was about 5 PM when we arrived at Nagpur, the city of oranges as they say. The hotel hunt ended at a hotel called Hotel Gujarat. Now, that is nice. A hotel named Gujarat in the state of Maharashtra.

A friend had asked me to call her once we reach Nagpur.

“OK” get ready, we are going to a friend’s place. I said.

What? Sparky replied.

Going to have dinner at a friend’s place, I am going to call her in a while, now get ready. I said.

Now, Sparky isn’t a social animal, you see. He was named sparky after Mr.Spoke of star trek. I knew he will feel out of place if we go to my friend’s place. I was thinking, my back hurt, and then I saw the watch. It was 8PM already.

Alright, it’s too late now, let’s go find some food.

A few meters in front of the hotel, there were many restaurants which sold both veg and non veg items. And then Jaya called. I forgot to call her all these while. I could not speak to her properly yesterday due to signal reception problems. She was keeping tab of where I was and the trip. She was more excited than me, I guess.

While I was speaking on the phone, sparky was not be found. Dang, where is he?

I hung up the phone and started searching for sparky. And I knew the only place I could find him was going to be the nearest bar. There he was; sparky buying booze for the night.

Dude, let’s go, we got a long day ahead tomorrow. I don’t expect the roads to be good once we cross into Madhya Pradesh.

Day 3

Nagpur to Varanasi

We woke up fresh. Sparky was able to sleep after 2 days. We wanted to start early but were not able to. I messaged my friend that I wasn’t able to call her last night. My back was ok in the morning.

This was going to be the longest drive of the whole journey. I was planning to drive all the way till Varanasi, which seemed to be possible when we left Nagpur and hit the 4 lane highway. My thoughts were shattered beyond recognition when we were greeted my Madhya Pradesh with a Single lane highway leading to the Pench Tiger Reserve forest.

The plan was, if we are not able to make it all the way till Varanasi, we could stop at either Jabalpur but then again we would cross Jabalpur much earlier in the day.

Alright whatever, I will keep driving.

After a while, it was time for lunch.

And here we are enjoying the khatiya.

Oh by the way, that is Mr. Sparky with the killer haircut.

And here is the lone single guy running the dhaba.

OK, lunch over, time to drive again.

The single lane highway was going to continue till Varanasi and I could not drive any faster because of all the cows on the road and the numerous villages that we crossed. I was driving at a maximum of 50 Km/hr. and that was not going to make us reach Varanasi anytime soon.

The sun was setting and we had to find a hotel. We could not find any till about 9 PM. We continued to drive till we reached a town called Rewa. I decided to take a turn from the highway and check out the town. Few kilometers in and then we found a hotel.

We managed to check but there was nothing for us to eat. We literally begged the restaurant to give us some food. We got some rice and daal to eat finally. We were saved for the day.

Day 4

Rewa to Varanasi.

The next day was a bright sunny day. I decided to stop for breakfast as soon as we hit the highway. I did not want to eat at the restaurant. So, off we were and then we were greeted with the ever increasing nonstop construction that is happening in this country. The whole country seems to be under construction.

Those iron rods did not damage my car tyre actually. Oh did I tell you which car was I driving?

That black Maruti Suzuki Swift vxi 2008 model is what I was driving. My black beauty as I named her. She was with me since June 2008 and I was not letting go of her that soon. She was going all the way to my home town. She had already done more than 98500 kilometers in the odometer when I started from Bangalore. One glance at the odometer and it showed more than 99000+ kilometers and I was heading into the holy city of Varanasi where my black beauty will hit one lakh on the odometer. This was great. Then again, look at the condition of the NH7 heading into Varanasi.

I wanted to take some pictures as I cross the mighty Ganges but in the sheer awe of the bridge and the might of the river, I completely forgot to take any pictures of the bridge or the river. And then it happened.

I hit one lakh kilometers on the odometer. What a feeling. Phew.

We arrived at Varanasi pretty early. Checked into a hotel and rested a while. Sparky wanted to rest and I wanted to reach the ghat as soon as I can. However, it had rained heavily before we reached Varanasi. The river water had risen because of that. The evening prayer at the ghat is a sight to watch. By the time I reached the ghat, the water was almost at the top of the ghat. Here is the end to the day.

As I drifted to my sleep that night, I wondered what was in store for us in Bihar.

Here is Part 2

And a story begins part IV

2015-03-14T02:04:00.001+05:30

It has been 15 days since the last time I typed. It has been 15 days since I started writing a story, my so called true fiction. I have been doing nothing during the last 15 days. Suhas and I are also going distant. He is busy with his work and I am lost all the time. These 4 walls tend to eat me alive. I have been trying to find some time to concentrate and continue the story which I started. This is my usual story, I start something and then it goes away. This has to change; I have 45 days to submit this story to my editor cum publisher. I will be completely broke if I don’t sell this story.

What can I do? The usual question starts doing the round. I better get some air.

----------

“How are you doing man?” Tomba asked me as I opened the gate to his house and parked my cycle.

“Am alright dude, the ringing sound seems to be still there” I replied while picking up a ‘moda’ to park my butt.

“You are one lucky dude you know, you could have died there man” Tomba continued while he continued to water the plants in his small garden. His Father’s garden actually, his job was to water it every day. Every lazy bum of us got that as a daily chore.

Yeah I could have died, I know, you dumb fuck.

“What is that plant called?” I asked pointing to a beautiful flower with its petals growing downwards. It was very beautiful. Orange, Red, Yellow and another shade of red were the primary colors in that flower or floret, I don’t know but it was really beautiful.

“Oh this one! This is Burmese banana tree” Tomba replied.

“What? A banana tree with that kind of flower?” what rubbish. How can a banana tree not look like a banana tree and be called a banana tree?

“I don’t know the real name but people call it that way. My uncle who is posted in Moreh town got this from there. He is giving out saplings to people who are interested in planting this one.” He said in one breath.

Oh yeah, Moreh, the border town between Manipur, India and Myanmar; the place where you get everything, from a bloody pin to a plane; figuratively. Imphal is flooded with all the Chinese goods which come through Moreh and people like it.

“Can we get one?” I asked.

“Sure, when?”

“Like, right now!”

“Ok, let’s take my dad’s scooter then, we can come back faster” Tomba said as he went inside his house to change his clothes.

The Sagolband and Uripok area is divided by a small rivulet which flows through it and connects to the Nambul River. I don’t even know the name of this rivulet, shame on me. Anyway, Tomba and I reached the place and took a right turn just before the bridge on the rivulet. Across the rivulet was a Manipur Police commando team in a gypsy, frisking people.

I got down the scooter, opened the gate and entered.

“Tomba, don’t look at them when you come in” I said as I kept walking towards the house.

“Hello aunty, how are you?” Tomba greeted his aunt. Is uncle home? He continued.

“No, he has gone out for some work. What is the matter?” his aunt enquired while feeding her 3-4 month old baby with cerelac which was all over the baby’s face.

“My friend here wants a sapling of that Burma banana tree” Tomba said.

“Oh, ok, you can take it. Come right to the backyard, the saplings are all planted there. You can dig one right up” she said as we entered the house. “Would you boys like some tea?” she asked.

“Tea is good” Tomba replied.

The tea was served with some biscuits and then we walked out to the backyard. Tomba and her aunt started to dick with a sickle and I was holding the baby. They were right in front of me, the slow rivulet on the left and the road on its banks leading to another friend’s place, the roughly put up bamboo fence which marks the boundary of Tomba’s aunt’s house. The bunch of Big banana trees covering the setting Sun.

“You move and you are dead” a Manipur police commando with his AK-47 rifle pointed towards Tomba spoke from the bamboo boundary fence.

In a blink of an eye, one commando jumped over from my right hand side, another leaped out of the banana trees and another from the right side of the house. One asked me to hand over the kid to the mother. They took the mother inside the house. They took Tomba to the eastern side of the backyard. They took me to near the banana trees.

“Who is he, what is his name?” the police asked me. I gave the answer.

“You are lying, you son of a bitch, is he not Jayanta from Khuyathong? Tell the truth, else you will die” he commanded as he pointed his gun towards my head.

“Sit down, don’t look up” he commanded again.

I was thinking what is going on. There was nothing that I could comprehend of the situation. Everything ran in front of my eyes. Mom, Dad, brothers, school, and everything else that I had seen till that time of my life. I was crying for help but my eyes had no tears in it. I was shouting for help from the local people who had gathered hearing the commotion.

“Don’t look up, I will shoot you, fucking underground” he commanded again.

“Please don’t shoot me, you are mistaken, we are not underground militants, we are students” I kept saying.

“Shut up, I said shut up” his voice shaking as he pushed me with his gun.

He pulled the lock of his AK-47 rifle but his finger was on the trigger already or something, one bullet was fired and it hit the ground 3-4 inches away from me. The noise from the shot deafened me and that ringing sound increased and started hitting me really bad.

This is it, I thought, the end of my life as I know it.

-----------------------------------------

“Hey dude, what happened after this?” Suhas screamed as he shook me up from my afternoon lumber.

“What? When did you come back?” I asked.

“Just a while ago” he quipped.

“Tell me what happened after this.” He persisted.

“You will get to know when I type the rest” as I went back to my dreams.

“Oh come on, you can’t do this” he screamed and I could hear it in the distance.

.....

45 days left

And a story begins part III

2015-02-26T20:16:00.002+05:30

“I wake up in the morning

And I raise my weary head

I got an old coat for a pillow

And the earth was last night's bed

I don't know where I'm going

Only God knows where I've been

I'm a devil on the run

A six gun lover

A candle in the wind”

I always wake up with a song. Today it was Bon Jovi’s blaze of glory spinning in my head ever since I opened my eyes. On most days, the song vanishes after some time, while on some days, it remains the whole day. I don’t hum the song but it is there somewhere in my brain, playing itself out.

“I am going to be late for my tuition class”, I thought, as I rubbed my eyes and glanced at the clock.

Imphal, the capital of Manipur, the place where I was born some 16 summers/winters ago, is known for its tuition culture. Almost every student of every school of every class goes for a tuition class. Some before they go to school while some after the school hours and for some both before and after school. It appears that the school is just a hang out place whereas the real schooling or learning is at the teacher’s house in a private tuition class. So, in a way, almost all teachers are rich in this city. They have double income, first from the school and then the extra money from the private tuitions. Things are good for them.

I am also one of the many students who go to a teacher’s house to get a private lesson. Every single morning you can see a sea of students going for tuition classes. The timing starts from as early as 3AM during summers and 4AM during winters. You name a subject and you got a private tutor for that.

“OK, I have my pen and notebook. Let’s go” I told myself.

Winter season in Imphal is merciless. Riding a bicycle at 4AM in the morning during winters in Imphal is an adventure in itself. My class would have started by now and my teacher would not let me sit in the class. Still I rode my bike and reached the place.

“Get out, you are late” my teacher shouted.

I got out and waited for my friends to come out of the class.

“What was today’s lesson?” I asked when I met Tomba and Achao after they came out of the class.

“Nothing man, just another chapter in macro-economic theory” uttered Tomba.

“Guys, let’s go have some hot pooris.” Achao said.

Hot poori-sabji and tea is a very common breakfast in Manipur. Most places which sell breakfast in the morning are known by the owner’s name. These are not big joints; they are relatively very small, with 2-3 benches and tables. These are the places where the old folks will talk about politics and everything else with a sip of hot tea. These are the places where most information is shared among people. One such place was the Hotel Tampha, run by one guy called Tomcha, popularly known as Taton. He was very popular for the tea he served, which had a hint of ginger and bay leafs, and it would leave a nice after taste in your mouth.

“Let’s go to Taton’s place” Tomba said as he jumped onto his bicycle.

Taton’s place was about 4 kilometers from our tuition place. Three of us rode in tandem.

“Halt, halt, halt” an army man shouted from the road side.

The sight of an Indian army soldier in full combat gear is also another common sight in Imphal. They can check you in random and pretty much can do anything to you. If you are asked to stop you better stop.

“Kaha se aa rahe ho” the jawan asked us.

“Sir, tuition sir ke ghar se, keishamthong se” I replied.

“Hmm, Kaha jaa rahe ho? ID deekhao” he replied.

“Nagamapal, uske baad apne apne ghar” I replied again.

“Hmm student ke naam pe militancy karta hai? Agar tumme se koi bhi iss party ka hai toh khade ho jao, agar uss party ka hai toh baith jao” he said in a jiffy.

What? He is asking us to stand if we belong to this party and sit if we belong to that party. Dang, we belong to no one, what should we do then? Sleep?

All three of us started to lie down.

“Hey kya kar rahe ho?” he shouted again, while rest of his colleagues started to laugh at us.

They were also checking others coming from the other side of the road.

“Sir, hum kisi bhi party ko belong nahi karte hai, isiliye leit gaye” I replied.

We don’t belong to any party sir that is why we lied down.

“Shalla, majak karta hai? Chal uth aur nikal yaha se” he said.

It was our good luck that he let us go. We could have been interrogated for anything that they wanted to. This was just a time pass. There was something that struck all three of us though. They are always there in that area every single day and they see us every single day. They never asked us to stop but why today? Must be some time pass for them.

We reached the place where we wanted to go. Something was unusual that day. There were far too many army men in that area on that day. They are rarely seen there. What is going on? I thought as I parked my bicycle by the roadside next to the hotel. It was not that crowded but the army men outnumbered the civilians in that area, that early in the morning. Something was not right. The hotel was on the first floor of the building with a small shop which sold cigarettes right next to the hotel entrance on the ground floor.

I bought 2 cigarettes from that shop and started climbing the stairs which was after one more shop on the left side of this shop.

I was on the fifth step when a loud thud and a great force threw me onto the first flight of stairs. That sudden impact shook me a while, I turned around towards the stairs only to see a thick smoke rushing towards me. The only way out was to go up. I inched myself up slowly in the midst of the thick smoke. The thick smell of the explosives hitting my nose hard, all I can hear was people shouting and crying at the same time. Then the smell of human blood made me nauseate. I reached the main hotel room which was actually the balcony. It was spewed with pooris, glasses, clothes, and lot of other stuffs which was difficult to figure out what those were. Taton was injured along with two other customers who were having their morning tea. Tomba and Achao were not injured as they were sitting in the inner room. Within minutes everything was normal. The wailing and the crying stopped. All that remained was the ring in the ear.

The Army men who were present there were angry and started beating up everyone they could see. They were angry because two of their colleagues were hurt in the “attack”. The police soon came and the situation was under control. I was sitting at the balcony of the hotel when the police arrived. All I could see was the sea of blood which was splashed onto the road. It was first red, dark red, and then it got mixed with the soil and slowly it was turning into black. They were trying to figure out how many people were hurt and started cleaning up the place. Meanwhile a police officer came up to the first floor and asked if anyone was hurt. They took away the two injured customers for medical help. They asked us to stay for identification and verification, which is usual in such situations.

“Dude, are you alright?” Tomba asked me. He was frightened at what had just happened. His voice was shivering.

“I am ok man, just this ringing sound is there in the head” I replied, desperately trying to stay calm.

“Where were you when the blast happened?” Achao added.

“I was right at the steps when the bomb exploded; I was thrown onto the stairs.” I stammered for words. I just could not speak further. All that was running in my mind was the smoke and the blood that I saw firsthand.

“There is a dead body” Someone shouted.

People rushed in to see who it was. The police stopped everyone who was trying to get into the scene. The police then took out the body from inside the ground floor shop. It was the ground floor shop owner. Only half of his body was recovered, the rest was blown into smithereens.

I and the others on the first floor were able to see what was happening. The lifeless body was transferred to an ambulance which had rushed in. This was the man from whom I bought two cigarettes about 10 minutes ago. It would have been me if I was late by 15 seconds to get onto that stairs. I was 15 seconds early and that saved me. 15 seconds and my life could have been over. 15 seconds and I would not be speaking to you today.

---------

Day 60

I just typed 4 pages of something. I felt good. I finally was able to type something. Last night at the Zuri hotel after the drinks, Suhas and I came home and I just crashed. I was feeling good after a long time and slept well. I woke up this morning with a good feeling. I don’t know what but I can’t explain this feeling. All I wanted to do was to type something. Anything

“Oh you are awake early today” Suhas said as he came out of his room.

His room bedroom apartment has been my abode for the last 6 months or more. I sleep in the living room.

“Oh yeah, I woke up early and I typed” I replied.

“Oh really? Can I read?” he asked.

Sure.

“Dude, what is this? Whose story is it?” he asked.

“Do you like it?” I asked.

“This is good but whose story is it? Yours?” he said.

I just started in and I am writing a true fiction you see. I smiled.

“What is true fiction? Never heard of it” He retorted.

True story, true place, true incidents but fictional characters. That is my version of true fiction. Hee hee.

And a story begins part II

2015-02-25T23:43:00.002+05:30

“Here we are, alright, I will see you later” Suhas said as he slowed down his car in front of his apartment building.

“Alright man, see you later” I said as I got down the car.

“Good evening sir” said the security guard as I crossed the gate. Holy hell, I have been here for more than 6 months and I don’t know this guy’s name. That is so not me. What is wrong with me?

Good evening sir, I mumbled as I walked towards the lift lobby.

I don’t know what is going on with me. I am not the person that I used to be, that is for sure, but what went wrong? Was it my inability to earn something decent every month? Or was it my inability to keep her happy? All she wanted for me to do was to buy her stuffs. That is all. Everything was fine when we started off. Yeah, that seems to be the story for everyone when it starts. Everything is rosy and nice in the beginning and then everything goes for a toss. The very thing that attracted you to that person becomes something that you just can’t stand. Am I looking for a reason or an excuse for my inability to do anything? I don’t know, I really don’t know. Now that she is far away and have not seen her for a long time, I think I better get into shape.

The lift door opened. It was the 7th floor and I was supposed to go the 5th floor. I had forgotten to press the damn button. The uncle who got off on the 7th floor gave me this are-you-on-drugs look. Everyone seems to have a problem with me. Now, where is that 5th floor button?

Alone in the house and nothing to do, I start to look around. What can I do to make my brain not think? Should I start packing? Should I cook? What? Why can’t I think straight? Alright let’s start packing, at least few things. May be a few boxes will not do any harm. I had walked in with 6 boxes, a suitcase, a backpack and a laptop bag when I came to this house. Two of the boxes remained unopened till today. I really don’t know what it holds inside. Sceptical of what is inside those two boxes, I begin to wonder what can be inside those boxes. Does it contain anything that will remind me of her or the days that we spent together? What?

Damn it, just open the damn box and see it for yourself.

Alright, let’s do this. It isn’t going to kill me.

-----

Hey dude, what happened? Suhas’s voice was feeble but I could hear him.

Hey dude, what happened? Suhas shouted and shook me up.

Huh, what? Nothing man. I was just sitting. When did you come? I asked; looking around to see where I was and what the hell happened.

I just stepped in, how long have you been sitting in the chair and staring at that picture? Suhas asked pointing his finger at the picture which I was holding.

I don’t know, may be a while. I replied, trying to find a place in the box to keep the photo frame.

What time is it? I asked, as I got up to fetch a cigarette from the packet lying near the TV stand across the room.

It is eleven thirty my dear friend, what about dinner? Suhas replied clasping his hands.

Damn, I have been lost for more than three hours with that photo frame. What was I thinking? What was happening to me? Of course the photo was of me and my now ex wife, taken when we were in college. But then again, why was I so lost that I didn’t even realise the time?

Hello? Dinner? Suhas looked at me what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you look.

I don’t know man, I am not even hungry. Shall we go out and check somewhere? I replied as I lit up a cigarette.

Alright, let’s go.

---

Bangalore is a dead place by eleven thirty in the night. There is nothing that you get out here. There was only one place that we could get food for sure, shivajinagar, but that was a good forty minutes drive from whitefield. This is a city which has traffic jams at this time of the day also. The outer ring road is relatively empty compared to the choc-a-block traffic during the day. Suhas was driving and I sat in the front passenger seat as usual. The yellow street lamps were questioning why am I still yellow when everybody else is changing to the white CFL or LED? I don’t know man, ask the government. The bumpy roads asking till when will I be bumpy before you can make me smooth? I don’t know man, ask the government. The sweet sounding Maruti Alto asking where are you two idiots taking me in the middle of the night? I don’t know ask Suhas. I ain’t getting any ideas and here I am, talking to street lamps, road, and the damn car. What is wrong with me? Where is that elusive story which will make people read my book? Where can I find that idea? Who can give me that idea to write? Everywhere I look it is all so confusing. Over and above that, there are at least a billion stories that have been written. Even if I write something which I think is unique, it must have been written somewhere. I don’t know, I am just guessing.

Every time I write something, most people think that the story was my story, which means that I have been a rich spoilt brat, a beggar, a thief, a school dropout, a spy, a mechanic, a demigod and the list goes on. Why is that people just can’t accept fiction as fiction? I don’t understand that part either. Wait, hold on a minute? Should I write my own story? The one where I am the hero, the protagonist, you know. Should I? Hell no, my life story isn’t interesting at all. Who would want to read about a mediocre guy from a small town good for nothing author?

Or would it interest few people? I don’t know. I just don’t know. I got 60 days to go for me to submit a manuscript to the damn editor. Why did he sign me for two books when the first one was a mistake? It was just another I-also-can-write-a-book stuff. Damn 60 days. 60

“Dude, where are we going?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“Zuri” he replied.

“The hotel in Whitefield?”

Yup

“Oh shit” I murmured, making sure that he cannot hear.

60 days and I don’t have anything to write. Not able to get a grip on things happening around me and I am supposed to write a god damn story in 60 days.

“I cannot do it” I said as Suhas drove pass the gate of the hotel gate.

“What?” Suhas gave me a quizzical look.

“I give up, I cannot write anything anymore. I just cannot write. I cannot think straight. How do you expect me to write anything in 60 days? How?” I started to scream inside the car.

“Hello, Relax da, chill, it will be alright. You just need some time” Suhas started.

“Time; that is only bloody thing that I don’t have on my side, my friend” I said as I got down the car.

“Dude, you need get over her, you need to meet someone else” Suhas said as he handed over his car keys to the valet.

“Yeah, yeah, meet someone. With my kind of luck, I see a one in a billion probability”

“Alright, just for tonight, let’s not talk about anything which happened in the past. Let us not talk about you and me. Let us just have some drinks and eat some nice food. Tomorrow is a new day, you can start to think what to do from tomorrow onwards but for now, please, let us enjoy a few hours, and these guys open only till one AM.” Suhas was at his methodical best.

Alright then, 60 days countdown starts from tomorrow.

As we walked in, heading towards the lift in the lobby, I caught a poster on a poster stand. It was placed at the entrance of the lobby. It was a poster of a book launch which happened that afternoon.

“Holy moly smokes mother of god. Oh fuck” I screamed.

Suhas was stunned for some time. “What the hell happened?”

“Dude, I got this. You know why I am not able to get any ideas about my book?”

Ah why?

“Because I have not read that many stories, I can say that I don’t read at all. There is only one book that I have finished in my entire life. Beyond that I have not read anything by any author. Nope, nothing else. So, how can I get any ideas if I am not reading anything anywhere? How can I just plug ideas from a place and put it on paper? If I had read those many books, maybe I could have garnered some ideas from someone’s story, you see. I may be wrong but I think my lack of idea generation is because I don’t read at all.”

“So, what are you doing to do?” Suhas quipped.

“I freaking don’t know” I said as I sat down on the chair.

To be continued.

And a story begins

2015-02-24T01:23:00.000+05:30

It’s been a while since I last wrote anything. January 12^th was the last time I could type something and paste somewhere. It is sometimes mind boggling to know how much you want to type but you just cannot. You have these ideas doing somersaults in your brain ready to be inked but somehow you manage to not type anything. After a while you don’t remember what you were thinking. You pass by some place and then it inspires you to do something, you want to write down a phrase, a stanza, a verse, but you just can’t. Concentration takes a vacation when you really want to have it. It is difficult for someone like me, who prefers to write than talk. I do talk but if you give me a choice, I rather write than talk. Then again, I can't write all the time. You see.

So, what am I writing about? No idea. That is the way it has been, I start off idealess and then it goes everywhere it can. Trying to make some sense while I type has been a way for me. Some people have known my writing way but they don't read me now rather they can’t read me now. I don't blog that often and I don’t work in that office anymore. The question that I have always asked myself is do I write for myself or for the audience? I don’t know, has been my answer. This particular question was discussed in detail once and the common agreement seemed to be more people wrote with their audience in mind. However, the question that went unanswered was that why do people use difficult words when they write? Oh no, this has been written. I know. I wrote something about it sometime back. So, no, I am not writing about that today.

So, what do I write about then? No idea. Still.

How about a story?

Nice, but I don't have a story.

Well, make up one. You are the writer.

Dude, I need time to think, research, layout the plot and stuff, it is not easy as you think.

Oh really?

Yes, it is not easy to just take a pen and paper and start writing.

I have seen people doing that.

Well, they must be geniuses then, I can't do it. I need a lot of time to think about a story.

How much time would you need?

I don't know, maybe days, a week, a month, even a year, I don't know.

You better write one soon.

Dude, I need time, don’t you get it? And why are you pestering me to write something?

Because you are due for a book in two months and I can’t handle your publisher’s phone calls anymore. Your manuscript should have reached them by now, that is what they said.

What? It is due in two months? And why didn't you tell me all this before?

Because I thought of not disturbing your state of mind with the divorce thing, you know; so.

Oh man, what do I do now? This is crap. I step out of one problem and then step into one. What am I going to do now?

I don't know, figure it out man, and you can’t stay with me from next week. My parents are coming to stay with me for 6 months.

Oh great. Now, I got to write a book, find a place to stay, cook, eat, and fend for myself. Start my life all over again.

I am sorry man but you better get in shape. Get a grip.

------

What did he say after that?

I don’t know, that is all I heard before I left the house. They are my neighbours and there is so much one can eavesdrop at someone else’s conversation.

So, one is a divorcee and the other is a bachelor, right?

Yes

Are they good looking?

I don't know, I think the bachelor is an ok to do guy. I haven't seen the divorcee that much to notice anything.

Have they spoken to you?

No. I mean, the divorcee said hi to me one time in the lift. That’s all.

Hmmm Interesting

What is interesting? They are not your types, I am telling you.

Oh babes, there are no types for nobody, you just have to make them your types.

What is it that you have in your brain?

I don't know, let’s see.

I heard Harish asked you out last weekend.

Yes he did but I declined.

Why?

I am not that easy you see. Let him try hard and I am going to play that hard to get by girl, you know.

Alright, what are you doing this evening? I am planning to go shopping after office, you wanna join me?

Sure, anytime for shopping. What are you buying by the way?

I don't know, just shopping, let’s see what is nice.

Alright, I will meet you at the parking lot at 5 then.

Sure, bye

----

Dude, you could have parked at the mall. Why are you trying to squeeze in this small narrow dingy lane? The place does not have any parking space dude. What are we doing here?

We are going to meet a real estate agent my friend.

Dude, I am telling you, let us park at the mall, and then walk till here. I will pay for the parking.

Alright, you and your rules and consideration for others

Dude, seriously, I mean, it makes no sense to park at a narrow lane where two cars can’t even cross each other. This country is ruined by people like you who don’t think about others. Selfish

Alright alright, here we are, at the mall. Happy?

Thank you. Do you know this real estate agent? I prefer finding a place on my own dude, this guy will charge a bomb, plus the ten months deposit shit of Bangalore.

He is my friend. He won’t charge. Yeah maybe a dinner.

Hmmm fine. Let’s see.

------

This is boring, it is all conversation. Talk talk talk. Where is the story?

It is brewing somewhere. We have reached the mall. We have four characters so far, the two dudes and the two women. Let’s throw in some bollywood masala and make this a masala tadka, what say?

What rubbish, I don’t like masala. I like a story to be a proper story, a cast, a plot, a storyline, characters and a good ending. Now, the ending can be good or bad but then again it must have an ending. Without a proper the end, a story is never a story.

So, it is like, you plan out the beginning and the end first and then you plug in whatever in between. That seems to be alright by me. Now, what am I going to put in? I got only two months to write something that people will like. My last book was ok, got to sell about 5000 copies, which is a big number for me. I actually doubt what those 5000 people were thinking when they read my book. There seems to be lot going on in my life right now. I got this friend, my best friend in fact; I have been living with him ever since I got divorced. Now that he says that I can’t live with him anymore, I got to find a place for myself.

As you could have figured out from the conversation that you just read, we are at a narrow lane to meet a real estate agent, my friend Suhas’s friend. There you go, my friend’s name. See, how bad I am, I did not even mention his name all these while. Anyway, the staircase looks like a snake trying to digest his food in a tree. You know, how anacondas wrap itself in a tree to digest the good. It is just like that. Round and round the stairs go. Oh right, leaving you foot wear outside a shop seems to be a culture in Bangalore, no, Bengaluru. Why do you want your customers to take off their footwear so that they could enter your shop? Why? I left behind my black sandal at the doorstep and walked in to a neat office where I could smell fresh jasmine smell coming from the room freshener. As soon as I entered I could see a big ass table greeting me, the freaking room is smaller than the table. A water dispenser at the right hand side and there he sat, Suhas’s friend Chandu. At first, I thought his face was a poster on the chair. The damn chair was too big for him and his face was right in the middle of the back rest. Damn, why do people show off?

So, you are looking for a house eh? He asked.

No, I am here to play football, you dumbass. These lines played out instantly in my brain. With a smile on my face I replied “yes I am”

Alright, leave your phone number; I will call you once I have something. What kind of house are you looking at? A flat or an independent house? He asked me.

A place where the landlord will not ask me anything, that is all I want.

“Find him a quite place” Suhas added.

Ok, I will try. Tea? He offered.

“No, we are in a hurry” Suhas said.

I ran down the flight of stairs and lit a cigarette, waiting for Suhas to come down.

“Alright, let’s go” Suhas said as he came down.

“What’s the plan?” I asked as I stubbed the cigarette on the ground and bend to pick up the butt.

“I am going to meet my girlfriend” he seemed to say this as I was looking for a dust bin to drop the cigarette butt.

“What did you say?”

“I said I am going to meet Sushma” he said.

“Alright then, can you drop me at the house, I will start packing. I better be ready to move when this guy finds me a house.” I said as we started walking towards the mall.

“So, you guys are serious?” I asked as he got into the car.

“Yeah man, she is the one” Suhas replied as he started the ignition.

“So, you want to marry her?” I quipped.

“Definitely” he replied with that definitely sounding like a war cry.

“Oh shit, watch where you are going lady?” Suhas screamed as a scooter almost rammed into his car bonnet.

The lady said sorry and looked at us. I got a glance of the woman at the back when I was lighting a cigarette. She seemed to have that ‘I-know-you’ looks. She did not smile just that look.

“Dude, isn’t she your neighbour?” I asked.

“Really? I don’t know” Suhas replied.

to be continued......

Type; Just type

2014-10-27T20:45:00.002+05:30

Type; Just type

There are so many things that I want to write about. Too many things at the same time, is also a problem. Selecting a topic to write about also seems to be a herculean task. I don’t know why it is called a herculean task, may be because even Hercules would have found it difficult. Is that the connotation? May be, may be not, it is indeed difficult.

Sometimes, I wonder how people are able to blog every single day. Of course, people will post every single day if they are paid to do so. Now, all bloggers are not paid, are they? But they still write a lot. How is it possible to write anything about anything? A better statement would be how are they able to focus on just one topic and write about it. I have met people who CAN write, trust me, they can. Give them any topic and they would write at least 3 pages of something about that. It is more like talking for me; I could talk about pretty much everything under the sun. However, I may not be able to write anything about a lot of things that I could speak about.

Writing to me is ranting, just plain old ranting. No grammar not punctuation no nothing. Just type whatever comes to my brain. With a topic or without, doesn’t matter. Something shapes up after I start typing. Having said that, I do feel super lazy to type out the words that my small little brain could possibly manufacture. Sometimes I feel there should be a computer software which can type your thought. You think and it types. How about that?

Formatting can come later.

A lot has happened between my last post and this post. I don’t even remember what I posted about. Oh yeah, It was about Mary Kom, the movie. Between that and now, I got my 15 minutes of fame on television. I was invited by a news channel to participate in a debate. The debate was about the alleged racial attack on a person from my home state. It was a good experience. Now I know why they keep touching their ears while they are on TV. You can’t hear a damn thing and the ear plug keeps falling off. May be it was not made for Indian ears.

The mother in law and daughter in law tussle on the TV arrived in Bangalore on the 23^rd of Sep. My television has been taken over. I do not have control over the TV remote for more than a month now. I have been deprived of good quality television based entertainment. It is good information though. My parents follow these TV shows so much that they know everything about it. Even if they don’t watch for a week, they can pretty much figure out what would have happened in the past week. I ask them who is this and who is that and what is happening, you know, casual conversation in the living room. They enthusiastically tell me the entire plot and the story so far. I look at them and realise that at least they have their kind of entertainment. If these show where not there, they would have died of boredom. I mean, it is what they like. I just let them be what they are.

Women; my nemesis, also the breed I love the most. I can’t seem to get enough of them. The more I get to meet of these species, the more distant I am becoming. My sense of understanding them is diminishing by the day. I don’t have the patience anymore, I think. Wooing is not my cup of tea. I just cannot do that. I may try and impress but I will not even try and woo anyone of them. The more I see; women seem to love being wooed. The more you put and effort, the woman seems to love it. Now, it is not for every single woman. I am talking about the women that I have met, ball park figure of 75 women. Now, I cannot possibly say that all women are like that just by meeting 75. These 75 are definitely different from each other. If I have to pick what is common between these 75, then I might be making some sense. I am not generalising women here, I am generalising the 75. These 75 does not represent the entire womenfolk in the world. That is absolutely ridiculous. So, what is common between these 75 then? Oh yeah, like I said, they like being wooed. They like to be pampered. While some of them are fiercely feminist and independent, most are true blue women. I mean, they are neither feminist nor independent. They depend on lot of people for their things to be done. They call someone or the other for getting anything done, be it a bloody phone recharge, they call. Now, that is going to hurt the feminist.

What am I typing about now? I have no idea, something to do about women. Oh that is a risky topic, let’s stop typing. Shall we?

Got to wonder though

2014-08-30T14:08:00.001+05:30

Got to wonder

There are too many things going on this planet at the same time. Somewhere someone is dying while someone just dropped into the planet. There are way too many things happening for anyone to be able handle at a single point of time. Facebook is one such example of too many things happening at the same time. There is a new thing happening on it almost every hour or so. One such thing which is currently going on is the English language test that everyone is taking up and putting up their scores on facebook. Now, the language is not an alien language to many Indians but most of us know how it is used. I will be very surprised if everyone knew the meaning to the following words: Malleable, Arcane, Nefarious, Bombilate, Jargogle, Pedantic, Lubitorium, and Abusion. Could any Indian be that good that he/she knows the meaning of all of them? The answer is of course YES, in case we are talking about probability. However, the question is about common people. Now, the other thing is, does it prove that you are better than everyone else if you get 10 on 10? How does a rating or quiz define your overall vocabulary? I don’t think so.

Knowing the meaning of a word is one thing, using it on a daily usage is different. Will you be able to use these 10 words in your everyday life? Possibly yes, but what guarantee is there that another Indian will understand those words. Having a bigger list of words in your vocabulary bank does not mean you are better than anyone else in the Indian context. It is your ability to simplify each word and use them with the right audience. You must be able to choose the right word between the synonyms of a word. I am not good at this language, I am still learning and I don’t think the learning will ever stop. What I know of this language is “the simpler the better”. It is better for me if 100 people understand me rather than just a handful; having said that, it is a must to learn new words and synonyms of that word in particular so that you would be able to simplify.

I am always baffled by this language every single day. Especially the way we Indians use it. We have conveniently altered the language to our liking. There is something called an “Indian English” now. I think it is got to do more with the way we convert from our native language to English while speaking the language. It is evident everywhere. I have not met a PhD degree holder in the language. I do not know what their take on the language in India is. I somehow have a feeling that they consider themselves much better than anyone else in India and they have their own planet. Similarly, the language also changes with your status in the society. The more educated society and the rich tend to speak in a different way. The lesser ones in a different way; so on and so forth. Every single state and city in this country speaks English is their own different way. Each state has their own language which actually means that multiple languages are getting converted to English. That also means there is no one Indian way of speaking. So, where is the “Indian English” coming in? Should it not be Karnataka English, Tamil English and so son and so forth?

None of us would like someone speaking our own language in a different way. We are too proud of our own native language that we will keep correcting the guy is we find any mistake. We are too proud and always tell others “not to ruin the language”. Now, what are we doing with someone else’s language? English

I have no idea what I just typed. Hee hee

Mary Kom - The movie

2014-08-27T14:19:00.000+05:30

Well, I am back after a long time. Looks like the writer's block is gone. At least for now.

Let me see how much consistent I get in updating this blog. Sometimes, it feels like copying and pasting all the blog posts from my ex-office's blog space. Then again, some people would have already read it. Now, what am I supposed to type about? No clue.

Let's pick up a super hot topic that is burning the meitei or manipuri internet world. The issue is why is Priyanka Chopra acting as Mary Kom when someone with a similar look from the North East could have been given the role?

Now, this one looks like it has not gone down well with many people, especially the people in Manipur. The very same place where Hindi movie has not been released for more than a decade. Remember that.

Did anyone scream that a person from Punjab should have played the role of Milkha Singh in "bhag milkha bhag"? Nobody did and nobody cares. It is the director's perspective. Period. Done. Get it?

So, if the director and producers of "Mary Kom" wants to cast anyone else, then what the hell is your problem? Ben Kingleys played the Mahatma.

Why is it that we are so particular about what "they" do with us while we just do not care about what "we" do to "them"? Shut your mouth and watch the movie just like anyone else would. You can become a critic after you watch the movie. You have absolutely no rights of whatsoever kind in whom the director chooses to cast in his/her movie. Oh by the way, has any director/producer in Manipur ever thought about a movie about Mary Kom, if yes, then where is it? Is the role played by someone from Mary Kom's tribe or by someone else?

The debate is irrelevant. This is business and one of the biggest of them all. If a movie does not click then a lot of money is lost. A lot is earned if it does click. It is all about the star power in this country whether you like it or not. It is about "haves" and the "have nots".

It is a joke to even compare any actor from the North East with that of the mainstream Hindi Cinema. There is absolutely no comparison. You can make ten Manipuri movies in the budget of a Hindi movie song. Where are you and where are they? The argument may be that Priyanka Chopra does not look like someone from the North East. Then again, if an actor or actress from the North East is trying to make a name in the Hindi film industry, then he may never get any role in any film just because he/she does not look "Indian". Only Danny Dengzopa made the difference. That guy is talented, in fact super talented. Can a Meitei speak Hindi like him? I don't think so.

In the land where everyone thinks that he/she is better than anyone else in this planet, this article will also fall flat and will be criticised for my lack of supporting the region's cause and fight and differences and sufferings and what not. The list is on. We crib about how we are treated elsewhere in the country but we don't think about how we treat everyone else. We don't like being called with the "C" word while we happily use the "M" word. We live in a society which does not have "appreciation" as one of it's values. We always underestimate, disrespect, and dishonor everything. Someone secures a high rank in any exam, the answer is "he/she must have copied". We are very good at character judgement. We judge anything and everything, as if it is our birth right to judge people. Someone gets successful in life, the immediate answer is "That idiot was rotting years ago, how did he get so successful?". Every society has it's own pros and cons. Ours is the one where sub-sub-sub-sub society exist, each saying that they are better than the rest.

Grow up, it is not the ONLY world that you have. Open your eyes and try and see things from a different perspective. We are not the only ones in this planet. Learn to adjust and co-exist instead of havin "kill them all and let's live alone" syndrome. Let us stop our love for violence. We just love violence. We solve everything through violent means. Someone says something which was not nice, we beat him up. Someone thinks that someone is acting smart, we beat him up. Someone thinks that someone disrespected him, we beat him up. Someone is "suspected" of being involved in a murder, we burn down his house. These are simple examples, there are way too many to be quoted. On top of that we cry on the present law and order situation.

We do not care about anything else other than the immediate family that we have. All we care is the best for MY family. All we want is to do something that no other meitei has done. All we care is to be the so called "only one". All we want is to send our sons or daughters to a place where there are no meiteis for further studies. Outside the state, when we come out, we don't talk to each other. We act as if we are from a different country altogether.

The list goes on and on.

For now, wait for September 5th, watch the movie, as you would in a multiplex, update your FB status while doing that, express your thoughts and move on.

Until then, shut up.

Till death do us part

2013-08-29T15:44:00.000+05:30

Alright,
My last post was in March 2012 where I did speak about being regular on this blog. Talk about being regular eh? I am back here after more than a year. Last year I was blogging only on the internal blog site of my then office. It was THE place for me to rant about everything and anything that happened in office. Now that I am no more with that organisation and I am free to rant in the open world, here I am; to rant, you see.

Before we go ahead with anything. Here is my first post of this year (2013). This is a short story that I wrote a while ago. This has already been published in my earlier blog in my earlier office. So, people who have read this will know.

I hope you like it :D
Leave your comments if your don't like it.

This story is bollywood in my style. He he.

And I am pretty sure that there is going to be a lot of mistakes coz I don't proof read.

Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction, any resemblance is purely co-incidental

A frail sound from an electric guitar was slowly being carried by the winds. It was getting louder by each wave of wind that came by and then it would fade away. It would come by at the same time every day. The locality was already used to that sound. It had become sort of a clock for them, for they would know that it was 4 in the evening when the sound would start. It was not loud neither it was too feeble. It always felt that as if it was coming from some distance away. No one wanted to find out who was playing since it was coming from the direction of the ‘big house’. The ‘big house’ was the common name given by the people to the house owned by the richest person in the area, in fact, he was the richest in the state. Known as doctor sahib, he owned a major pharmaceutical company. Though he barely lived there, it was his son who was always there. The house would host a lot of people on most occasions. It was the cynosure of all eyes.

The guitar sound did not come for 2 days. Something happened. No one knew what happened but there were rumors that doctor sahib had passed away in a hospital in Mumbai. By that evening, the news slowly trickled in from the ‘big house’ that the doctor sahib had indeed passed away. He was all of 44 and left the young 14 year old Munx all alone, who had lost his mother when she gave birth to him. Munx never knew his mother and what is it like to have a mother. His father was both his parents. Growing up without a mother and now left without a father, Munx did not know what to do. At such a young age, no one would expect him to take care of his father’s fledging business empire. He was always aloof and never had much of interaction with his father either. His only companion at all times was the guitar that his father gave him for his 13th birthday. Ever since that day, he was with his guitar, singing and playing. It was his best friend.

According to his father’s will, Munx cannot run the business till he turns 18.

-------------

“Aeeeee, I can’t write like this!!” Munx screamed. What happened? No I cannot write like this, it is just not me.

“But it is your story” his trainer opined.

“Yeah I know but I don’t want to write in all flowery and from a third person perspective. I want to write it the way I want to” Munx retorted.

“Alright, go ahead” his trainer said.

Now, where were we?

Oh yeah, after my dad passed away, I was not allowed to take care of the business, some corporate rule and stuff. I did not even care, I only wanted to play the guitar and become like Joe Satriani. I did not have any problems for money and I could get almost everything that I wanted, but I decided not to. I wanted to be known for who I am and not as my father’s son. That was the time I decided to move out of the house and live in the garage. My uncle was against it but I was adamant and I am my father’s son, I won the argument. My garage was the best place for me. I could jam for hours and with super loud volume. Take out my anger by destroying or burning and stuff. It was all cool.

One day, my good friend from the neighborhood, Dave, heard me playing my guitar. He said I should try my hands in playing for the school band. What? Do they require a guitar player? I asked. Yeah, he said. The next day, I gave my audition in front of the rest of the band. They were 3 of them. Drummer Subo, Singer Bruce and bassist Satish. I played one song and no one spoke. After that they asked me to play another. Still no one spoke. Then Bruce asked me since when have I been playing the guitar. I said about a year or so. “And you have an Ibanez guitar? Where did you get that?” he asked. Yeah, my dad gave me this for my birthday. “Damn, lucky you man, you got a rich dad”, he quipped.

“Dude, you are the best guitar player that I have ever heard” Subo said. “You are in” he added. All of them were in the science section of 11th standard and I was in arts. I became a part of the school’s secondary band, the main band being the guys from the 12th standard. Ever since that day, we pretty much played in every gig in school functions and in the weekend concerts in town. Music became my soul and the three of them my closest friends.

For the next 2 years we played together in every other concert where we could play. It did not matter how many people came to see us, we just played. We won the best band award in 5 major festivals in the state and 2 outside the state. I won the best guitarist in about 8 festivals. One magazine even compared me to the great Joe Satriani, they said I was India’s answer to him. Which I think was pretty lame. All these while we played cover numbers and never could really make music of our own. At the later part of our school life, we decided to compose some songs in memory of the school. That experiment turned out to be a disaster. The creative struggle was too much for everyone to take. I wanted a bluesy guitar riffs while the singer wanted to sing ballad. At first, I thought that there will be a way out of this ego fights and that we will be finally able to create a song.

We were heading nowhere; there were lyrics but no song progression. In fact, there was nothing. Now, like it was meant to happen, we finally clicked on a song after much deliberation and after about 2 months of fighting. We all liked it and we agreed on the sound and the style that we wanted to be known for. It was done. We recorded 4 songs as a demo cassette and then we started playing these songs wherever we could. We were quickly signed by a local label and earned the first penny from a song that was ours. We were getting famous and earning before we could finish school.

One record company from Bombay approached us after hearing us. Their idea was simple, they wanted to own us. They wanted to sign us for the next 20 years, which meant that every song that we made and everything else that we did, these guys would earn something out of it. I was completely against it. I was never in for the money; it was all about the music and taking it to the people who can relate to us. I never wanted fame. The other thing that bothered me was my father’s business which I was entitled to run as soon as I turn 18 and it was closing in on me real fast. I told the three of them that I would not play or be dictated by a record company. I want freedom in what I want to do, I am sure that they would ask us to play in a sound that they want. I told them to go ahead with another guitar player if they want to be signed by the company. To which they said, they are going ahead with that option and leaving me out. I said ok to that and decided never to see them.

I carried on with my life. My guitar was always with me. I entered college, decided not to take up my father’s business. I began a life which I did not know where it was going. I was travelling across the country, meeting people, playing with them, learning from them, and doing everything that I could. It was all good until I realized that I need money to keep myself alive and I did not want my father’s money. Then it happened to me, I entered the corporate life. Not knowing what was in store for me, I took every single day as it came. My life took a double u turn sideways. I sold my guitar and gear to survive in between. I had to sell it someone whom I knew. Luck was on my side as I found someone who I knew who wanted to buy my stuff.

Corporate life beat the crap out of me, left, right and center. I was lost completely, not able to understand anything that was going on, I did what was told to me. Now, it has been 10 years and I have reached nowhere and I don’t even know where I am going. In the meantime, the three of them hired one more guitar player and formed a band, which was signed by the record company from Mumbai. They have been playing for the last 12 years ever since I left. They are very famous now; they are one of the big acts in the Indian rock scene now. I have not spoken to them for the last 12 years. Life sucks would be an understatement. What the hell am I doing and what is happening to me? Two questions that I could never answer. Whatever

The company that I work for turns ten this year and there is a huge celebration planned. It is going to be the regular dance, song, dance, speech, awards, and dance routine. This is the usual sequence of events in every function this company. This year was not going to be different.

So, the stage was set. Wait a minute, this year it looks a tad different. The sound system looks different. There are too many speakers for a dance and speech show I thought. One glance at the sound booth and I knew that there was going to be a large scale music concert. One after the other the events started to unfold. After everything was done, it was time for the main event. The MC did not announce what was coming up, she just said, it is a surprise.

The stage lights went off and everybody began to wonder what is going to happen. Then a voice spoke. “Good evening ladies and gentlemen, how are you doing? Well, today you will get to see one of India’s finest rock bands perform here for you, but before that, I would like to tell you a story, a story about a man who believed in what he wanted to do. He was a brilliant guitarist. He was India’s answer to the great Joe Satriani. He was my friend” the announcement was happening and I knew that it was Bruce on the microphone. What the hell are these guys doing here? I began to think and as I was thinking hard to decipher, they started showing pictures of me on the projector, pictures of me with the guitar, on the stage, running around. These were taken almost 10-12 years ago and I don’t even look the same.

“We have been searching him for the last 12 years and finally we came to know that this man is today working with you guys in this office. Do you know this man?” No one could figure out. Then the searchlight came on and Bruce made his way on to the stage. I could hardly recognize him.

His name is Munx and he is an employee of this company. Do we have Munx here? He announced and people who knew me started to look for me. I was standing in one corner of the hall and never wanted to be found.

Bemused and rattled, I stood there frozen, not knowing what to do. Should I run? Should I hide? What should I do? Multiple indecisive thoughts wrangling in the brain, they found me. The search light was on me. “There he is, my friend, and one of the founding members of this band” Bruce continued to blabber on the microphone as I slowly dragged myself towards the stage.

I managed to reach the stage along with the glare and surprise stares of almost everyone. As I stepped up, Bruce hugged me and along came Satish and Subo. The other dude also hugged me; I did not even know him.

Bruce: How are you my friend?

Me: ah, good. (Still trying to figure out what was going on)

Bruce: So, finally we found you my man, you have been hiding, haven’t you. (Trying to be funny)

Me: No dude, I have been around.

Bruce: Ladies and gentleman, not many of you will know that Munx is a founding member of this band and one of the best guitarists that you can ever find. Has anyone heard him play?

No one has heard me dude, I murmured, looking down and trying to find a hole to get into.

Bruce: Alright, we came here, all the way, to give this guy a surprise and to play with him one more time. You up for it, buddy?

Me: Dude, I haven’t played in years. And I don’t have a guitar.

Bruce: Do you remember that? (Pointing at a guitar placed near the drums)

Me: I am not sure.

Bruce: Check it out.

It was my guitar which was near the drums and my gear placed near the microphone stand. Nostalgia struck and I was meeting with my beloved guitar after a long time. Everything flashed before me, Dad, school, the days, the concerts, and everything. Something told me, just play and you will be fine. Days of drudging in front of the computer and days of getting scolded and days of sleepless nights; it was time for redemption. Bruce helped me sling the guitar around my neck, connected the cables, and showed me the place where the amps and my guitar processors were placed. I walked towards it and everybody started to scream. Here I was; this laid back dude with nothing credible to show off in office, slinging on a guitar, invited on stage by the best band in the country, who would have thought. I was at the center of attraction, people were eagerly waiting for me to play and see how I play.

“Are you ready dude? We are doing your favorite song first” Bruce whispered to me. I looked at him and shrugged my shoulder telling him what is going on. The other guitar player started the song; the song was “Always with me, always with you” by Joe Satriani. For 5 seconds I did not know what to do, I have forgotten everything. I signaled him to keep playing the same verse for 3 times until I was ready. Then everything came back to me, just like that. I played for another 45 minutes and I was completely in a world which I always belonged to. I was in trance.

I was supposed to get back to my shift after the concert. I did not realize that I was late for my shift. I hurriedly got back to my floor and there he was the most hated person on this planet. My boss!

It was another usual session with my boss, where he told me how bad I was at time management and how much of work was pending which I have to finish and the list went on. My life sucked, big time. I wanted to be with the band for some more time. Catch up with those famous guys and see how the world has changed. Freak, I can’t even think straight.

That’s it; that is my story. I can’t write more.

Here, let me read it. The trainer pulled up the sheet and started to read. She was reading it aloud for the whole class to listen to. Damn, what is wrong with people? Creative writing class sucks.

She was done reading after 10 minutes and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Was it your real story?” Rita asked me, who was seated on my right. I caught her eyes and could not utter a word.

Ah what?

Was that your real story?

What? No! It is not. What? Me? A guitar wizard, son of a super-rich dad who left me a company to run, na, not even close. It is not my story, I just made that up.

What? You made that up? No way!!

Yeah I did make that up.

But how does it sound so much real? Every word seems so real!!

That, I don’t know, I just wrote it. I was asked to write “My story”, I wrote an imaginary story.

Hmm, something is fishy here. I somehow don’t believe that you made that up.

Umm yeah, I did make that up, believe it or not.

I don’t believe you and I will never believe that you made that story up. I will find out about you.

What? Why are you so hell bent on thinking that I did not make that story up?

Because you are weird and mysterious, and there is something which does not connect the dots here.

What? What dots are you trying to connect?

That’s for me to find out.

You will not find a thing.

Let’s see, what’s your phone number?

What? Why do you want my phone number?

Just like that, I am your friend na.

No way, I don’t even know you.

Well, don’t you want to have new friends? Now, give me your number.

Who are you?

You know my name, Rita. Now, give me your number.

Are you this adamant, always?

Yeah, I am. Now, number

Alright, here 97^%^$&#@^

Thanks, I will call you.

Eh? Why? I just know you in this class.

Will see, you never know what is in store for you Munx

Foxy lady, you remind me of someone whom I used to know. You sound like her.

Hmm, then find out who am I and I dig up your story, shall we?

Whatever!

--------

3 hours later,

Hello

Where are you?

Who is this?

Rita

Oh hi, I am at home.

Where is that?

Near the big market.

Give me the address

Why?

I am coming over, be prepared, I have something for you, your dirty past, I have dug it up all.

What? What is going on?

Chill man, I am sending something by courier. Need your address.

Hmmm ok.

So, what else is happening?

Nothing, just sitting at home.

Alright, bye, see you.

Parcel? Courier? Something? What? Dug up my past? What is this girl up to? Who is she? Why is she behind my life? God help! Oh yeah, the creative writing class is over, I don’t have to see her tomorrow or ever. Next time she calls, I won’t pick up her call. Done!!

Next day evening,

An envelope was delivered at my address. I opened it and it was a greeting card. I saw the card and it was my handwriting. What? How did she get this? Questions running amok, the doorbell rang. I opened and Rita was standing at the door.

Hi, did you get the card?

Yes

Can I come in?

Yes

What does it say?

It is in my handwriting and I wrote this for someone I knew.

Who?

Priya, but how did you get this? I gave this to Subo and he told me that he never gave this to Priya and now you have this with you. I mean what is going on? Who are you? How did you get this?

Well, what does it read?

This was my proposal card for Priya, I don’t even know where she is, and this contains all the freaking love song lyrics that I could conjure up during those days. It was the most stupid way of proposing a girl but that was the “in-thing” then. I am not reading it, but how in the world did you get a hold of this? Who are you?

Well, it did reach the person to whom you wanted to give it to. It was sure a tough thing to find you Munx boy.

“Munx boy”, Priya used to call me that.

What? Priya? You? But your name is Rita? How is that possible?

12 years changes a lot Munx boy. Ever since I got that card, I have been trying to search you. No one is at your home to tell me where you are, you left everyone and everything. Your three friends in the band have been searching for you and they did find you at last. I would not have known it is you if you had not written that story in the class.

Oh boy!!

Yeah oh boy and how glad am I that I met you after all these years! How have you been?

I don’t know what to say! I never thought that I would meet you again. Yeah, I have been doing ok. Got a job, just hanging on to it, not much happening in life, surviving would be the right word. Sit.

You live alone here?

Yeah, so, how have you been Priya?

Not bad, just doing alright.

Married?

No, not yet.

Hmmm, boyfriend?

Yeah, but he does not know that I love him.

Eh? What sort of a guy is that?

Yeah, what sort of a guy proposes and vanishes for 12 years?

-----

“What did he say after that?” Manisha, my 24 year old daughter asked me.

What would he say? He just looked at me and stood motionless. He just did not say anything. He then slowly came up to me and embraced me. That said it all for me.

“Wow, it sounds like a story straight out of a Bollywood movie” Manisha continued.

“Hmm, lots of people say that. Your father being the only son of a big business man, rich family, left him a fortune which your father never even touched, a man who wanted to stand on his feet, a superbly gifted guitar player, vanishes for 12 years, and we finally meet. Yes, it does sound like a masala Bollywood movie but that is your parent’s story my dear” I said.

“What happened to grandpa’s business then?” Manisha asked again. She won’t stop.

“Hmm, that!! Your grand uncle runs it. The headache tablet that you normally take is made by that company. The company is in your father’s name though, he is the real owner, and your grand uncle just runs it.”

“How come no one told me about this?”

“You never asked and your father never wanted you to know until you are mature enough to know and judge things”

“Where is he? He is late and I am hungry ma” she continued

“He must be on his way, call his school and check if he has already left” I said as I started to lay out the table for dinner.

“He left an hour ago ma. He cancelled his last class and left early it seems” Manisha said.

“He must be up to something, I know your father” I began to place the plates on the table.

After a while, Munx turned up and headed straight to the bathroom as usual. Nothing was unusual. He hugged me and Manisha as he would normally do. Nothing looked even remotely unusual but I somehow knew that he was up to something.

“So Dad, when did you propose ma?” Manisha asked.

That caught him off guard and he immediately released that mother and daughter has been talking.

“Hmm, did she not tell you the story of the card?” he said.

“Yeah, she told me everything about it, but why could just not walk up to her and say?” Manisha said with a surprise.

“That was the in-thing those days baby, plus I never had the courage to walk up to this gorgeous woman and tell her that I love her” he said as he stood up and started to walk towards me.

“And finally when we met after 12 years, that was it, I did tell her I love her and asked her to marry me a year later, and it has been 25 years, and I am going to ask her to marry me again” and he knelt on one knee and took my hand.

“Priya, will you please marry me?” and added “Again” after a pause.

I said yes and Manisha was quick enough to get her camera out and capture this moment.

“May be she should become a photographer” Munx said as he sat down on the bed after dinner.

“Do you think so?” I asked.

“I don’t know, let her do what she likes to do” and he is ready to sleep. Almost

“She is your daughter, she will do what she wants, you don’t have to worry about her, and she will find a way to survive” I said as I tucked myself in next to him.

“Hmmm, Priya, do you believe that it has been 25 years since we married each other?” Munx said.

“I don’t know how I have put up with you all these while” I smiled.

“Promise me you will stay another 25?” he replied.

“Till death do us part, darling” I closed my eyes.

——-

What? That’s it? That’s the end of the story? What a ridiculous ending that is! How can you end a story like that? Is this what you have been writing all these while? You said you are writing a mega story with twists and turns, love, lust and what not, and this is what you come up with? How am I supposed to print this, it is not even 20 pages. And you say you are done? You can’t write anymore. Listen, I run a publication and I have some reputation in the market. If I cannot get one more novel from you, I am ruined. There is a lot at stake here. Do you even understand? Are you listening?

Saurab was livid after reading through the first 16 pages of the story. Mahesh had expressed his inability to continue with the story anymore. He was not in his right frame of mind. The truth was, he was actually running out of story ideas. Whatever he has written so far has been about things that has happened either with him or around him. He wasn’t travelling anywhere to pick up stories and ideas. He wasn’t meeting people regularly; he was at his aloofness best.

Yeah, I am listening Saurab, Mahesh replied slowly, trying not to reply in the same tone and pitch as Saurab.

What are you going to do about it Mahesh? I cannot take this; it is unacceptable by any standards.

I need some more time Saurab.

How long?

At least 6 months.

Alright, you have 6 months, and in 6 months if I don’t get a decent story from you, I will make sure that you are ruined for the rest of your life, I have had it with you and your attitude. Give me this one freaking novel and we are done, I will cancel the contract and you will be a free man. Now, get out and don’t show me your face for the next 6 months.

Mahesh walked out of that office, lit a cigarette and thought to himself.. Six months is a long time.

It has been long indeed

2012-03-18T17:42:00.002+05:30

Looks like I have not been here for a very long time. The last time I posted anything was in 2010. It has been 2 years since. The only reason for me not being here is that I could not find time on blogger.com. The only place that I have been blogging is on my office's internal blog system. The question is will I remain here for some time or be consistent here? I don't know is the answer.

Let's see

Mr. Cobbler, where art thou?

2010-06-29T19:54:00.001+05:30

Mr. Cobbler, where art thou?

When was the last time you visited a cobbler? I don’t know for others but for me it has been a long, very long time. I don’t even remember when that was. Yes! When you become a cobbler yourself than it is a different thing, having said that I cannot stitch the entire shoes, I can just repair some small stuff.
This afternoon when I was getting ready for office, my only formal shoes decided to give up on me. Just like everything else in my life, this one also decided to quit on me. Come on man, you are the only one I have, I told him. He was like “till how long are you going to drag me? Buy another one” now that was rude. Coming from my only shoe friend with whom I have always come to office. I guess it is time that I bring him a companion so that I can give him some rest. It took me about 30 minutes to console my friend to come with me. He agreed saying that “first take me to a cobbler, I need a makeover.” I said, that is exactly what we are going to do.
We step out of the house and started searching for the first cobbler that we could see. To our surprise, we could not find anyone. We just could not find any cobbler in the vicinity. We drove for about an hour searching for a God damn cobbler. There was one last place, which I knew that it existed, but that was about 8 years ago. Anyways, we decided to go there and check. Damn, that place was a mobile phone shop now. Where in the world do I find a cobbler now? So I asked one dude. He looked at me as if I was from a different planet. His reaction was like “dude there are no cobblers anymore.”
My shoe friend and I decided to cancel the makeover for now and started driving toward office. On the way, I was thinking about where the hell the cobbler can be. Is it a fact that they don’t exist anymore? And if they don’t then why? The only answer that I could find was the economy.
The expendable income of people has increased so much that people do not repair things now. They just buy a new one. Above that, the repair cost is so much that it is almost equal to getting a new one. So why would anyone spend that much money on repairing when he can get a new one for the same price?
So, my true old shoe friend, I think it is time for you to go. Yet you will have to be with me for some more time since I don’t have the money to buy another one. So bear with me for some more time. In the meantime, if I find the elusive Mr.Cobbler, I will take you to him. Fine?
Mr.Cobbler, I am coming to find you.
-PEACE-

And he never went back home

2010-06-11T23:49:00.001+05:30

And he never went back home
“She has eloped with someone else man, I just dont know what to do” said Susheel as he took a long drag off his cigarette. “What?” everyone said in unison, but with whom? Did you try to find out? A series of questions followed. Na, I did not try and I dont want to know with whom she eloped to get married, Susheel continued, still taking long drags off the cigarette. There was calm in his voice and he seemed not moved with what just happened with him. This morning, his girlfriend eloped with another guy to get married. Susheel was a very decent man with a decent job. Yes, working at a shop is considered a job in the state of Manipur. At least you have an income. His shop owner was a Marwari from the state of Rajasthan who had come to Manipur some 20 years ago and is since settled here. His employer trusted him so much that he asked him to stay in the shop, where he provided Susheel with two times meal and a bed. That was more than what Susheel needed.
Every day he would toil between orders and delivery. Between all those thousands of hardware products that he would sell, he knew everything about those hardware stuffs. He and Priyadarshini were school sweethearts. They began seeing each other when they were in the 11th standard. Since then, they have been going strong with no indication that they would part ways one day. Susheel’s house was next to mine and we grew up together. We went to the same school from where he dropped out during the 12th standard. He could never pass the 12th board exams and after 3 attempts, he gave up. He was this dude with special skills. He was known as the best fish cutter in the locality. The electronics guy, any problem with any electronic item, he will repair it. In fact, he got this job by accident. He went to this shop to buy some tin sheet clips for his dad. While he was in the shop, he noticed that the owner of the shop was struggling with his CASIO calculator; he inquired what the problem was. The M+ key in the calculator was not working. He solved that in matter of minutes. Right there he was offered a job by the shop owner. Yes, there is no relation between calculators and hardware. Yet the shop owner was very impressed with his skills. The rest, as they say, is history. It has been 4 years since he has worked and lived in the shop. He rarely came home, maybe on festivals. That is it. Otherwise, he was always at the shop.
“What the hell are you going to do man?” I asked, taking the cigarette from him. “I really don’t know” was all he could utter. It was 8:30PM and it was getting late for me to get back home. “Alright man, I will see tomorrow, I got to go now” I said as started my bike. All that I was thinking was what the hell just happened? Why? That kept ringing in my head till I reached home.
Mom served me my food. It was delicious as usual. We were discussing about the day and she suddenly mentioned that Susheel’s brother has eloped with a girl. I shrunk. “What’s the girl’s name?” I asked. Priyadarshini, mom replied. Oh my God! I stopped eating. What the hell? So Priyadarshini was dating both the brothers? Or did she meet Sashi (Susheel’s brother) recently? Or did she know that they both are brothers? Too many questions in my head with no definite answers, I had to speak to her.
I left my food and visited Sashi’s Susheel’s house. What the hell, they live in the same house. I met their Mom. “Munx, could you please inform Susheel about Sashi’s wedding tomorrow?” his mom said as I was about to shake hands with Sashi. Sure Aunty when is the wedding day fixed? I replied. Next Tuesday was the answer and it was Thursday. Sashi was the eldest in the house and about 2 years older than us. The so called intelligent one in the family, he was a JCO in the Indian Army. During that conversation, I found out that he met Priyadarshini about a month ago and fell in love instantly. Wow, that is some story, I told myself. Yet, my question still was, why did Priyadarshini chose not to inform Susheel and just elope with his brother? That night I could not sleep. The only thing in my mind was to speak to Priyadarshini.
The next morning, I went to meet Priyadarshini at her house with the disguise of congratulating her for wedding. Without this reason, I could have never entered her house. She was all glowing and looked very happy when I saw her but when she saw me, she turned red. All I asked was why? She said I saw no future with Susheel. But you could have broken up and then get married with whoever you wanted, I said. I had no choice, he was too busy to meet me, was the excuse she gave. Alright, it is your life, you do whatever you want with it, but by the way do you know that Sashi is Susheel’s brother? I said. She did not say a word as I started walking. She just could not.
“Susheel, what are you going to do my man,” I thought as I rode towards his shop. Here was this guy, whose girlfriend eloped with someone else, and that someone else was his own brother. Life is cruel but this cruel? Damn
“Sashi, my brother is getting married” Susheel exclaimed as I parked my bike. He did not know with whom and he did not care. “I have to go home, help out with things, oh man, My brother is getting married, I don’t believe this, I am so excited” he continued without having the slightest clue as to what was in store for him.
He contributed all his savings for his brother’s wedding. He shopped for new clothes and was all excited. Maybe that was his way of forgetting what happened with him. Yet, he had no idea what who his sister-in-law was. What do I say? Poor him? What?
Everything went smooth on the wedding day. Everything went according to plan. The wedding party left for the bride’s house, Susheel and all our friends stayed back. We were supposed to prepare for the night’s event. The night’s event was simple; the groom’s friends will be entertained with non-veg food and drinks. Later in the evening, the whole family will have dinner together welcoming the new bride.
The wedding party came back by 7:30PM. The grooms’ friends were eager for the drinks and the food. By 9 everything was over. It was 9:30PM when the entire family got together for the dinner. I was his extended family so they asked me to stay back. I really did not want to witness the scene which was going to unfold in a few minutes. Reluctantly I stayed back. Everyone was seated in a circle. I was sitting next to Susheel. All were waiting for the couple to join. After few minutes they came.
That was the first moment, when Susheel saw his girlfriend (now ex) ever since he came to know that she eloped. That was the first moment, when Susheel saw his sister-in-law. That was the last day he stood at his house and ever since he never went back home.
Now, did the marriage last or was it for good? Your guess is as good as mine.

only if I could

2010-06-11T23:30:00.000+05:30

A long winding road; with no one in sight, with a bit of rain, and green grasses on either side of the road. A cool breeze, Silence all around. You wish that you break that silence by ripping through the road in an SUV at 150 Kmph. How about that?
A room filled with people, smoke, alcohol, food, and blasting music. You wish you could bang your head along with the music so hard that you forget everything. How about that?
Rains lashing all over the place, trees tumbling all over, and you wish you could drive. How about that?
A light drizzle, a slow breeze, and a perfect weather for being cozy with the one you love but you are alone in the house. How about that?
A dead tiring day, hungry, and you wish you have someone waiting for you when you come back home but there is no one. How about that?
The aroma of the rum is intoxicating and you just can’t hold back yourself but you realize that you just can’t drink. How about that?
The smoke that goes through your mouth and to the lungs takes away some of your tensions, you enjoy the feeling that you get from smoking after a meal, which you just can’t explain. However, you are not supposed to smoke anymore. How about that?
You wake up on a Sunday thinking that you have the whole day for you but you have to go for a hiring drive. How about that?
You are super hungry and want to eat your favorite food but you realize that either you cook or get it from outside; no one is going to cook for you. How about that?
You are told that you are fat and need to reduce your weight. You try hard to reduce yet you realize that you aint losing weight. How about that?
You want to buy stuffs for yourself and anything else that you could but you end up not buying that coz of budget restraint. How about that?

Only if I could have it all my way.

The true Indian

2009-02-21T11:08:00.000+05:30

Let’s see, this one might be a little controversial, but what the heck. J

This one is about how true an Indian are you. Does not mean to be right or wrong, just an opinion.

Here we go,

You are at a traffic signal, you are at the 3^rd or the 4^th row of the stop, the lights turn green and the moment it turns green you start honking to glory as if you are the only one who is in a hurry or the only one who wants to move. If you do that you are a true Indian.

You like going to a pub and flirt around with girls, talk about them whether she is looking at you and stuff. You look at a girl and say check her out man to your friend, but at the same time you will not take your sister to a pub, super; you are a true Indian.

You talk about individualism, freedom of expression, freedom of choice and what not but end up getting married to a person of your parent’s choice, god damn, you are a true Indian.

You are at a movie hall, you read the message which says “please switch off you cell phones” and after some time you are on the phone telling the other person on the other end, “hey dude, I will call you back, I am in a movie hall”, hell yeah you are a true Indian.

You are driving on the city roads at about 10:30 PM and you think all the traffic rules cease to exist, amazing you are a true Indian.

You have a “baby on board” sticker on your car and drive at a breakneck speed, oh yeah you are a true Indian.

You are at a restaurant with friends and talk loudly as if you were the only people in the restaurant, oh super, you are a true Indian.

You call waiters as “yo”, “phis phis”, “boss” and treat them as if they were your servants, you are a true Indian.

You flush your own toilets but never bother to flush public toilets, you are a true Indian.

You are paid to work for 8 hours but consistently you work for 10-12 hours in a day in the office, brilliant, you are a true Indian.

You do not like people to talk anything about you but you love talking about others, oh yes you are a true Indian.

You have your opinion on everything but when someone gives you a feedback, you just can’t take it. Can’t say more you are a true Indian.

You treat auto rickshaw drivers as untouchables and shout at them for every traffic mistake as if the mistakes are always theirs’. Right on, you are a true Indian.

You keep saying that people should stop bringing their friends/family to the railway station or airports to see people off which according to you will help reduce the crowd, but at the same time you are more than happy to see off a friend. Seriously, you are a true Indian.

You know some guy who does not have problems talking to girls but you have, and you classify him as a flirt just because you can’t talk to girls. Disgustingly you are a true Indian.

You jump up and down the whole night in the name of religion but can’t bear a noise of a party going on next door. Heck, you are a true Indian.

First one for 2009

2009-02-21T11:05:00.000+05:30

Oh yes, I have not been blogging for some time. My last post was on the 25th of september 2008, hope I am right. Many people say, that's pathetic for a blogger. Sure it is.

So, what do I write now? Well, there are almost a million topics to write about. Which one do I choose? Anyways, here we go.

I wake up in the morning and raise my weary hair (oh this one is from Bon Jovi) and I am greeted by death as I pick up the newspaper. Some movie star undergoes an operation and its a frontpage item. Someone blames someone else for something. Robbery news are printed with such precision possibly inviting another few to commit the crime. Murders are reported in detail that you feel like damn, can that happen? Sports page is nothing but cricket and the nation is mad about this game. The business does not look that good either. Recession (the man made situation for money crunch) is breathing down everyone's neck. Layoffs everywhere, cost cutting. The tissues papers have vanished from my office toilets. There is no expectation for a hike. Forget it. There is a worry for the money that will go even before the money comes.

Think twice before you want to spend. Do you really need that thing that you want to buy? let's save darling, comes in your wife's order and you can't do anything about it. Can you? Forget eating out, that's too expensive, let's cook something nice instead. Movies? why spend 200 bucks a ticket in a multiplex when you get the same stuff in a DVD for 50 bucks? yeah a little compromise on the sound quality. Lets ask the newspaper guy to stop delivering the newspaper also. But darling, I want my newspaper in the morning. No you can read it in office; besides you have lot of spare time to read. Oh great.

Fine, so your shopping spree also needs to stop. Look at the number of clothes you have. She agrees. Phew, my wallet is safe for some time. Thank you recession.

So darling, this Valentine's Day, lets have a quite and nice time at home. What say?

You have your rights and imagination to guess what was the answer……………

Time! (Confused, calculated, bad, good, whatever…)

2009-02-21T11:00:00.000+05:30

"Time does not wait for anyone." Heard that a million times. Exageration? May be or may be not.
"I dont have time for it now." Heard that a thousand times. I am sure about that.
"I dont know how to manage my time?" Ah, this one, heard a couple of hundred times.
"I dont know how you find time to blog when you have so many other stuff to do?" Heard that about ten times or so. Now, this is more confusing than the first 3 statements. My simple explanation is "I take out some time to write something. Now, thats not that bad. It makes me relax a bit and get back to my work.

But a lot of us have different opinions about the way others work. The reality is, if you keep blogging regularly and something goes wrong with your main work, then the explanation that will follow is; "You keep blogging, thats why your work went wrong". As simple as that. So, what to do? Keep blogging and find time to blog.

Teacher's Day

2009-02-21T10:56:00.000+05:30

Old story, new writing.

“Guys, teacher’s day is coming up and we got to organise the event”, screamed Gautham. Yeah man, was the answer that everyone else echoed. That was 26th August 1995, the school: Manipur Public School, place of conversation: The canteen.

Now, we were in the 12th standard, our last year of school, never thought of leaving this school in the last 12 years but this was our last year. 16 of us had made it to the 12th year in the same school. A bunch of die hard school lovers. We had the best and the worst amongst us. The best in studies was with us as well the worst. We were friends and we were the seniormost in the school. It was OUR school and we could do anything that we wanted. Be it anything, from ragging new comers to bunking class to organising events, the 16 of us handled everything.

So, it was time for us to continue the school tradition of having the seniormost students in the school organise the teacher’s day event. This event is the biggest one. I still remember, once the budget of the event crossed 5 lakh Rupees. There were fights during the event, it used to be a well organised chaos. Everyone loved this chaos. The event will start off with a welcome song, then speech by the principal, then followed by songs, dance and finally the rock concert. It used to be a mammouth 7 hours long event. This was history and we wanted to do something different. Something that will remain as a good memory.

The planning started. All 16 of us gathered. Sandhya and Priya opted out because they did not want to be part of the team. Fine, no issues. The biggest question was, “how do we make it different?”. Everybody had their own thoughts, someone said, lets do it outside the school (which happenned once), someone said, lets make it more extravagant. The list went on and on. The morning meeting turned into afternoon then evening meeting. However, there was no conclusion. That same day, after school, a bunch of us met up in our local “ADDA” for smokes and tea (yeah we used to smoke then, dont be surprised and raise your eyebrow). During the conversation, it was agreed that, instead of making a huge event, lets make it small and more memorable. Lets do everything with a twist. The pandals used to be up a day before the event, we will put it up on the day itself. The food used to be pre-packed, we will pack it on the day itself and the whole school used to participate, but this time its going to be only the 10th, 11th and the 12th standard. So, it was decided, then and there over a couple of teas and smoke. Thats it, informal meetings are more productive with nicotine induced brains. huh, whatever.

5th September 1995 is a day, the underground millitants of manipur has called for a boycoutt. WHAT? WHY? god only knows. “They are insane”, Amarjeet said. Whatever; we will do this event, this is our school and no one dictates us. That was the resolution. However, our principal had a different idea. He proposed to have the event on the 6th instead of the 5th, the only reason being, he did not want any confrontation with the millitants. OK, group discussion, what do we do? “Fine” said everyone in unison.

3AM: 6th September, I was giving finishing touches to the banner. Gautham will be here any minute, we have to reach school before 3:30AM. I could hear Gautham’s bike sound from a distance, I knew he was here, packed up everything and opened the gate. “Whats up? ready?” he asked. “Yup”, lets go. The school is a good 9 kms aways from the city. The sunrise at 3.30AM was amazing. At exactly 3.45AM, everyone was there except for one teacher in whose room we had kept all the necessary equipments for the pandal, and he has the key!!. Excellent, what do we do? Simple! break the lock. Bang bang, went Mir. The lock breaks and Azad sir’s voice comes in “broke already? can’t wait for some more time or what?”. No sir, we have a dealine was Mir’s answer.

So, it was me, Gautham, Mir, Raju, Amarjeet, Haridev, Atomba, Krishnachandra, Romesh, Denise, Koireng, Senate, Mahesh and Sukumar, at the helm of everything. First, the pandal. This was the usual multi colored ones with bamboo poles, was easy, just took about 30 minutes to erect it. Then came out the benches from the classrooms, that took about an hour to set up. Finally, it was the stage decoration, my work :-( . The screen was up, 4 people were sweeping the stage floor, 4 people went back to the city to get the gift for the teachers and the food. It was 7.45 AM when we were done. Relaxing and admiring our work with a smoke, the first bus comes in. Oh oh, Run for cover, no one should see, we were smoking. Did anyone? whatever. Now, what next? Mir runs with a chain in his hand to lock the school main gate. “School gate will open at 8:45AM” that was what he wrote and stuck up on the gate. Nice idea.

In the mean time, 4 people who went to get the food and gift, came back. The rest of us were supposed to go back, refresh and come back.

Girl power: The food was unpacked and nothing was in order. Girls??? please help. Thats when the girls of 12th standard walked in. And they say, the rest is history.

After a slight delay, the function started with a devotional song at 9:15AM. Then a speech by the principal, then a traditional dance from the students of XI STD, then couple of songs, then every teacher was called up for the gift, and the gift was simple. A simple “Teeka” in the forehead, a small coconut piece, thats it. No safari suits, no sarees and all, nothing but the “teeka and coconut”. Finally, the national anthem.

That was it, so much for an event. At the end everybody was happy. HAPPY TEACHER’S DAY

Infosys Times

2007-06-12T21:29:00.000+05:30

Muhen, we are looking at you leaving for Mysore on the 25th of April. That’s what my manager told me on the 23rd. traveling is a part of my job, so Mysore it is then. No complaints, just pack your bags and leave. Finish the work and come back, that’s the way it is. For how long is the assignment? Hmmm a good question with no definite answer. Who is the client? Infosys; Great!What do I do then? Nothing; just go there, spend some time, get the work done, come back and repeat the grind again. Sounds easy right?The KSRTC bus was supposed to leave Bangalore at 4:30 in the morning. It left at 5:30 instead. Perfect Indian timing, isn’t it? Anyways, the bus ride was smooth. Thanks to the good roads.
8 A.M., Mysore.Well, everyone seems to know Infosys out here. What I was told was that, when I get down at the bus stand, just ask any auto drivers and he will surely take me to infosys, you don’t have to tell him where it is. Damn, nice. So, how much is the charge from the bus stand to Infosys? 120 RsAlright, 120 sounds really good coz I was told that I would be shelling out about 150. It was a fine morning with a cool breeze. Everything looked familiar. I don’t know why. The Infosys campus is just awesome. I don’t know if there is anymore superlative to describe the campus. It is huge, it is green, it is well maintained and it is just beautiful. First up, where is my room? Oh yes, I am staying here for free. Isn’t that nice? O.K. got the room now I need a smoke. Let’s go. After deleting 5 minutes from my life, (that’s what they say if you smoke one cigarette) I was ready for the grind. Forget it, I am not writing about my training sessions, but what I can write about is the campus. Don’t know everything about it but this is what I have seen so far.
The Campus:Spread across over 500 acres of land, it is just beautiful. It houses the Infosys Learning Institute, the Global Education Center, about 70 hostel blocks, 3 food courts, 1 multi cuisine restaurant, one multiplex, swimming pool, gym, a huge football ground, a cricket ground, artificial rock climbing, 6 tennis courts, 2 basketball courts, one volleyball court, Pharmacy, laundry, 6 badminton courts, 10 table tennis tables, a departmental store, salon for men and women, dedicated smoking zones, an apparel store, mobile phone service stores, ATM, free bicycles to move around and some more. These are some of the things that I have experienced so far. It’s a mini city inside. Some say, it is a golden jail, while some swear that they can live here for ever. So, what do I think about the place. Nothing, coz these are the things that the company thinks that it needs to provide its employees. Even then, people are not satisfied. Now why is that? It’s simple, the more you get, the more you want. It’s that simple. Whatever it is, let’s just let things the way they are and concentrate on what I came here to do.And that is training. So till then, I will search for few more things within the campus.Oh, the other thing is that you are not allowed to smoke anywhere you want. Now that sucks big time. Not even inside the room man. Sucks, but the thing is I just hate restrictions, so you can guess what will I do if I am not allowed to smoke inside the room. Keep guessing
But on the flip side, what I see of this place is the money.Almost everyone knows how Infosys started. Now look where it is now. I can’t even guess the amount of money that our man, Mr. Narayan Murthy, has put in to construct this campus. Phew. Anyways, who gives a shit? You make your money the way you want it but don’t forget to give me my money.

People weird people

2007-01-23T12:29:00.000+05:30

OK. People are indeed weird, whether you like it or not.

There are so many different types of people in the world. Some people differentiate others by their color, caste, creed and what not. While some people do not differentiate at all.

There are people who care for you and there are people who hate you.

There are people who are fake and there are people who are genuine.

There are people who take you for granted and there are people who look up to you.

Different people, different opinion. I guess.

But my basic question is why do people interfere?

Why do people keep poking their nose around?

Why can't people accept you the way you are?

Why do people always tell you about what you need to do?

Why do people tell you what is wrong and what is right for me?

Indeed people are weird.