Well well, I could have written something about Mickey again, but I am waiting for something interesting to happen to him. In fact, he went to a party last night; and the last SMS I received from him read, “This party has babes…” I am yet to hear from him after that. It’s a Sunday morning and he won’t wake up before 12, especially after the party last night. So keep waiting people.
Meanwhile….
Let me write about my Dad and my brother. I think a lot of guys would relate to it. Between these two it’s a perfect love and hate relation. They Love to Hate each other, and Hate to Love each other. Since the time he was a baby, my dad had understood that this guy is gonna show him stars during the day.
Every year, my brother would get 2 gifts. One on his birthday ofcourse, and one on my birthday as well. If Dushy wanted a video game, he would create such a ruckus that he would actually get it. Once he wanted a new bicycle, he stopped eating food. My dad had to go and get one the same day. “Taare Zameen Pe” had a completely different meaning for my dad.
Dushy is a very different kid. Very sharp, but yes, you have to get him interested. Maths for one, never interested him at all. My mother used to go crazy teaching him. The scene would be, my mom sitting on the study table writing in his notebook and my brother is jumping all over the place dictating steps of the problem to her. So, for his 7th standard Final Exams, my dad decided to teach him. Two nights before the paper, the two warriors were planning to complete the entire syllabus. Just the night before the exam, Dush was all drained out, Papa had a worn out expression. Finally, he told him, “OK just forget everything and go and write your exam, we’ll see what happens”. Next day early morning, my dad was sitting on the edge of the bed and sweating. My mother had a scare of her life, “Are you fine? What happened?”. He said, “I had a horrible dream, I saw that I have died and all my folks are coming howling and crying over my body.” My mother burst out laughing and said, “You just taught him one subject for one exam, I have been teaching him for all these years. Its ok relax, he’ll be fine. You go off to sleep.”
The day the exams got over, my dad fixed up tuitions for Dushy. His argument was, “Let somebody outside the family die, instead of my wife.”
Dushy did pass that exam. But yes my dad went to take his report card. There was a girl who came crying out of the class, she hadn’t passed the Maths exam. My dad was trembling. When he came to the class, the teacher said, “Dushyant, you have to collect the report from the Registrar’s office.” My father had almost fainted. Dush made him sit in the classroom and went ahead himself. Nothing, he was in NCC and there were formalities to be completed. He got the result, came whistling in the classroom, took Papa and brought him back home.
But then my dad got the better of him. He got him admitted in Sainik School. My baby brother went though a sea change! Firstly, he no more remained that sweet and cute little baby. He turned into a strapping lad. Tall, handsome, matured, controlled. But yes, that Tom & Jerry race never ended in our house!
He came home after his 10th boards and joined a junior college in Pune. Once again, the game began.
One fine day my dad decided to pay a surprise visit to Dushy’s college. Dush with his friends was perched on the compound wall right at the entrance when Papa walked in. He jumped down as soon as he saw Papa. His friend was asking, “what happened dude? Who is he?” Dush had flying saucers dashing in his brain! After that the entire day was quite eventful. Papa went around the college to meet each and every Professor of his and each one of them refused to even recognize my darling brother. I think all you guys can not even imagine what must be the atmosphere in our house for next one week. My dad had thought, this guy has gone out of hands. After about a week or so, my dad came to our room and said, “Bhai! if you pass this year you’ll get a 2 wheeler and if you flunk you’ll get a 3 wheeler, you decide what you want.”
My brother has managed to keep the 3 wheeler away so far. However, my dad did lose his 2 wheeler. Papa had this Lambaretta (I don’t even know if that’s the correct spelling) and he had won it in a lottery even before I was born. Both me and brother would hate it from the core of hearts to be caught sitting pillion on that damned thing. And more so in your teenage when your image is of utmost importance amongst your peers. Dush used to hide his face with something if Papa took him with him on that scooter. One day, on an unfortunate occasion his friend recognized him and called him out. Dush refused to look up. That was it. Dush had decided something had to be done. That week Mom had gone to her native. Our grandma wasn’t felling well. Dush picked up Papa’s scooter, sold it in Chor Bazaar, and got 1500 bucks that too for the weight of the iron. Coolly, came and gave the money to Papa. My father was exasperated. That evening he called up Mom and was talking for an hour about what Dush had done. My dad gets a little attached to all his machines. My mother was consoling him on one end and yelling at Bhai at the other end.
Dushy came to Bangalore for his graduation. Then too he didn’t let my father stand at ease. The first time he came home, we were so excited to see him. But went he went back and we got our Phone Bill… well what can I say! My dad called him, “Son, please inform in advance when you come for a vacation next time, I can have the phone-lines disconnected.”
Once vacation he came with long locks and a goatie. My Father was livid. I made him promise that he will never do that again. He did, but next vacation he shaved his head off. All my father could say was, “Son! I am still alive.”
We still haven’t reached the time of his marriage, the time he’ll buy a house, a car. I keep wondering about what will happen on all these occasions. But yes, in the heart of hearts I know my dad loves him more and my brother is concerned about his father. Of course, Dush thinks his dad is too out dated for this world and that’s where his concern stems from. :-)
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Sunday, September 14, 2008
A Fair Chance to Life...
I used to wonder about people who find their houses and properties devastated in a hurricane. About one hour ago everything is fine and life is normal. Then a Hurricane strikes. Doesn’t even give you time to think, to take some action, to save something…anything. People watch helplessly as their lives are being brought down to nothing and they are not even given an opportunity to save it.
I used to wonder, what would be the feeling to see a leveled land or a heap of nothing, in place of what you called a ‘Home’. A place where you ate, slept, loved, fought… your very existence.
Well! I didn’t wonder for very long. I figured it out sometime later when life did that to me.
But, this one is not about that. Its about… “what happens after that?"
There have been many roller-coasters I’ve been through, and some real unbearable phases in life, but still I can’t call God ‘unfair’. For every tough phase he sent someone who held me and saw me through. And this one person was indeed god-sent.
There are times, when at the back of your mind you know you are headed towards doom. You know you are gonna be hurt badly. But somehow you don’t see it objectively. It’s like ‘its gonna happen’ but when and how, is something you will not want to think about. I was living in a fool’s paradise waiting for the tide to come and sweep me away. My feet were stuck and I wasn’t doing anything to get out of the way. And he was the last person I would have expected to come and pull me away from there.
I was dragging a dead relationship on my back and he came along, he helped me start anew. And very frankly he didn’t have to, I wasn’t his responsibility. But I will never forget those endless discussions, those endless ‘gyaan-sessions’, and the amount of patience and effort he put to help me find myself back. This new found Deepa is indeed his child, if I may say so. :-)
One evening we were having a conversation over a cup of coffee. And Mr. Mickey was in full form giving away words of wisdom to his little one. And I like a good kid was listening.
“Utilize your time well. What do you keep doing in office for so long? You have to balance your personal and professional life. If you keep sitting in the office and staring in your machine, where will you find someone else?” “You have to find someone, and find someone yourself. You know what’s best for you.” I was nodding my head. Not that I wasn’t connecting, but I was wondering who would I find in this dry desert called Bangalore? But he wasn’t wrong either. He went on, “Alright, if you don’t find anyone there then come back. Don’t tell me there aren’t jobs in this side of the world. Come back to your own place and look out, even Mom and Dad can look for something. I want you to put a time-line to this and work on it. We should find you in Pune or Mumbai in next 2 months.” Mickey had said it and sealed it. And from next day onwards I was working on my mission.
Two months later, we are again sitting and having coffee, this time at my place in Mumbai. :-) “Alright, one hurdle is over. Now we look for someone. And I want you to give a fair chance to anyone you come across.” I can’t help smiling at him, when he comes up with these lines like putting a spoon of medicine in my mouth.
“By the way Mickey, how is Saloni?” I asked him half smiling. Our Mr. Mickey is not less than a killer himself. :-) And not to mention, he does have some sizeable fan following. Saloni is someone who works in his office. Nice girl. And our lady had something for him, but Mickey being Mickey finds it too unprofessional to date a colleague from his own team.
“Why, what happened suddenly? Where did you remember Saloni from? She is fine.”
“Ok! No I just thought I’ll ask.” I was trying hard to suppress my smile. Anyways I left it that.
For next two months every weekend we would discuss all the prospective grooms my mom would hunt. By the way, he is a hit with my mom. She can’t thank him enough to tame me into going through this distasteful process of arranged marriage set-ups. Finally, I did find someone.
Life had taken a 360 degrees turn. Six months ago I was standing all alone infront of my palace of dreams all lost in a heap of earth. And he helped me build the whole structure again. May not be like my old one; maybe not as grand; but it was beautiful, cosy and most importantly, liveable.
He came to see me off at the airport when I was leaving to meet my guy. And I gave him a warm hug, coz sometimes you can find words completely inadequate, infact inappropriate. I could see he was genuinely happy for me. But there was more.
Saloni was waiting for him with me. :-) “Hi Mickey. I chucked that job. I am no more your colleague or your ‘team-member’. Do I have any chance now?”
I said to him, “C’mon Mickey, we both know each other’s pasts. And you only taught me, that we have to give a fair chance to anyone who comes in our lives now…” I left for the security check as my flight was announced. From the security gate I couldn’t see much of both of them, but I hope he did give her a ‘fair chance’.
I used to wonder, what would be the feeling to see a leveled land or a heap of nothing, in place of what you called a ‘Home’. A place where you ate, slept, loved, fought… your very existence.
Well! I didn’t wonder for very long. I figured it out sometime later when life did that to me.
But, this one is not about that. Its about… “what happens after that?"
There have been many roller-coasters I’ve been through, and some real unbearable phases in life, but still I can’t call God ‘unfair’. For every tough phase he sent someone who held me and saw me through. And this one person was indeed god-sent.
There are times, when at the back of your mind you know you are headed towards doom. You know you are gonna be hurt badly. But somehow you don’t see it objectively. It’s like ‘its gonna happen’ but when and how, is something you will not want to think about. I was living in a fool’s paradise waiting for the tide to come and sweep me away. My feet were stuck and I wasn’t doing anything to get out of the way. And he was the last person I would have expected to come and pull me away from there.
I was dragging a dead relationship on my back and he came along, he helped me start anew. And very frankly he didn’t have to, I wasn’t his responsibility. But I will never forget those endless discussions, those endless ‘gyaan-sessions’, and the amount of patience and effort he put to help me find myself back. This new found Deepa is indeed his child, if I may say so. :-)
One evening we were having a conversation over a cup of coffee. And Mr. Mickey was in full form giving away words of wisdom to his little one. And I like a good kid was listening.
“Utilize your time well. What do you keep doing in office for so long? You have to balance your personal and professional life. If you keep sitting in the office and staring in your machine, where will you find someone else?” “You have to find someone, and find someone yourself. You know what’s best for you.” I was nodding my head. Not that I wasn’t connecting, but I was wondering who would I find in this dry desert called Bangalore? But he wasn’t wrong either. He went on, “Alright, if you don’t find anyone there then come back. Don’t tell me there aren’t jobs in this side of the world. Come back to your own place and look out, even Mom and Dad can look for something. I want you to put a time-line to this and work on it. We should find you in Pune or Mumbai in next 2 months.” Mickey had said it and sealed it. And from next day onwards I was working on my mission.
Two months later, we are again sitting and having coffee, this time at my place in Mumbai. :-) “Alright, one hurdle is over. Now we look for someone. And I want you to give a fair chance to anyone you come across.” I can’t help smiling at him, when he comes up with these lines like putting a spoon of medicine in my mouth.
“By the way Mickey, how is Saloni?” I asked him half smiling. Our Mr. Mickey is not less than a killer himself. :-) And not to mention, he does have some sizeable fan following. Saloni is someone who works in his office. Nice girl. And our lady had something for him, but Mickey being Mickey finds it too unprofessional to date a colleague from his own team.
“Why, what happened suddenly? Where did you remember Saloni from? She is fine.”
“Ok! No I just thought I’ll ask.” I was trying hard to suppress my smile. Anyways I left it that.
For next two months every weekend we would discuss all the prospective grooms my mom would hunt. By the way, he is a hit with my mom. She can’t thank him enough to tame me into going through this distasteful process of arranged marriage set-ups. Finally, I did find someone.
Life had taken a 360 degrees turn. Six months ago I was standing all alone infront of my palace of dreams all lost in a heap of earth. And he helped me build the whole structure again. May not be like my old one; maybe not as grand; but it was beautiful, cosy and most importantly, liveable.
He came to see me off at the airport when I was leaving to meet my guy. And I gave him a warm hug, coz sometimes you can find words completely inadequate, infact inappropriate. I could see he was genuinely happy for me. But there was more.
Saloni was waiting for him with me. :-) “Hi Mickey. I chucked that job. I am no more your colleague or your ‘team-member’. Do I have any chance now?”
I said to him, “C’mon Mickey, we both know each other’s pasts. And you only taught me, that we have to give a fair chance to anyone who comes in our lives now…” I left for the security check as my flight was announced. From the security gate I couldn’t see much of both of them, but I hope he did give her a ‘fair chance’.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Small Wonders!
Oh c’mon! These cobwebs won’t vanish so easily. It was just that last weekend I was partying with my folks in Pune.
BTW ‘Thanks’ to all those who read the stuff on this space and even wait for whatever I cook here. Initially, I advertised and many people came and read out of friendly courtesy but now its only dedicated patrons.
Hmm! I got a lot of reactions on all the stories that I wrote below. The most common feeling was the latter ones don’t have those dramatic tail-spins as the first two. Simple stories don’t appeal is it? And there is one who prefers orange dawns over the kinky palate and there is another who feels the edge is lost whenever he doesn’t see the kink! So you see good gossip is what sells. But I am a bloody accountant, I don’t sell. I count the money made at the end of the day and show you the reality without any garnish.
This time, I am gonna write about a world within our world, which we don’t see, we don’t observe but its something which is so alive and so beautiful right in the middle of this entire ruckus. I always regretted growing up. And somehow I still get along beautifully with kids more than adults. It’s their world, (and that’s what it is about this time) that I fit in so comfortably, rather than this one where I keep getting lost all the time. I am so sick of trying to find my way every now and then.
So here I go! And by the way, whatever I write here today isn’t fiction; even the names are not changed. J
I belong to this small town called Satara, about 2 ½ hours drive from Pune. I have some relatives there and we do make frequent trips to that place. Satara is another Malgudi. In fact I could go on writing tales about the town itself, but I’ll save that for some other day.
My Atya (Dad’s elder sister) stays there. Her grandson was about two and a half years old when he had started going to a play school. We call him Pranav. Pranav is the only son my bro and bhabhi have, so he didn’t have a sibling to look upto when he came. He was a very quite kid. Mainly because in a riotous family like ours, he never got a chance to open his mouth. But Play school changed a lot of things. He found a friend called Soham. Suddenly he wanted to watch all ‘cool’ cartoons on TV. Once I caught him watching ‘Power-puff girls’, and imagine he told me in his baby voice, “Atya please don’t tell my friends that I was watching PPG”
It was fun to watch them play. I would normally take my novel and sit in hearing distance to see what goes on in that little world. One evening they had decided to make houses in a pile of sand. Each one was busy making his home; and there came Avinash the bully. Avinash was in second grade; he was the tallest among all. He wanted to make a castle and not a small house. After sometime, I could hear Pranav and Soham shriek, “Hey why are you taking our sand? There is plenty of it on the other side.”
Avinash didn’t care, “but I want this sand. You two go and fetch that one for yourself.” These two didn’t say anything and got back to their work. After sometime, Avinash wanted more sand and he took some from our builders’ site. “Avinashhhhhh!” they shouted. But the big boy just would listen. This went on for sometime, till it came to a fist fight. Avinash came and hit Pranav hard. I was just about to intervene, but then I witnessed the most amazing settlement of a brawl. Soham got up, unzipped his shorts, pissed on the sand, and said, “You want all the sand right, now take it.” For next two days, I was laughing even in my sleeps. I immediately took both the boys for a double ice-cream treat, I was so proud of my nephews!
Pranav and Soham were thick pals. Once Soham’s Mom had hit him for something and he came to his buddy. They were sitting under our mango tree and discussing, “I think we have to call Shaktimaan, my Mom keeps beating me…” To which Pranav replies, “I don’t think Shaktimaan can do much, we will have to call ‘Jai Hanuman’! I wish their Mom’s could have heard that their kids thought of them as ‘Mutant Ninjas’ who could be tackled by Super-heroes alone.
Both of them couldn’t do without each other. You would always find them walking hand in hand. But there was one issue where the friendship took a back-seat. And that was the time I realized, this ‘guy thing’ comes inbuilt in the piece itself. Every evening, you would see them walking hand in hand to their third friend’s home. A little girlie called Pushpal. The hands would come off as soon as they reached her home, and there would be a fight over, who would ring the doorbell. So they would be fighting outside her door, all neatly combed hair in a mess, and finally aunty would open the door after hearing the commotion outside her house. I sometimes wonder what the lady must be thinking. At two her daughter was causing a mob fight at her door-step, by the time she would be twenty, her parents would have to keep Hounds and Dobermans to guard the house. And Pushpal madam was even smarter. She would come to play with both of them on each side and holding one hand of hers. After that, all they did was, “Pushpal see I can run faster, Pushpal see I can jump a longer distance, Pushpal see I have a toffee for you. Pushpal who is your favourite, me or him?” The guy who was favoured that evening, would eat his dinner without any tantrums, no sleeping tantrums, he would be the best boy that evening. And the not so favoured, could be heard howling in the neighbourhood.
Then came Deepa Atya (that’s me). Now where every other guy had an Atya who was older than his dad, in a boring saree and always nagging, Pranav’s Atya, wore Jeans, went to a college, took him around on a bike to eat ice-creams and played with him. I didn’t even realize, our boy was already hogging footage in the gang, over his Atya.
I would find it a little strange. Pranav’s friends would come home, look at me, and when I smiled and said hello, they would jump and giggle and run off as if they came to a zoo to see a rare species. It was one evening when Bhabhi’s friend came home, and half jeeringly said to me, “I have come to see Deepa Atya today, coz Pranav doesn’t let every one meet Deepa Atya. My boy is asking his father, don’t you have any sister like Deepa Atya?” After that, I gave a good one to that brat of a nephew of mine. So all the kids were allowed in, and I made it a point to play with each one of them.
But the best piece was this one. One evening, every one else had left and only Soham was lingering around. And these are two and a half year old guys ok! I was reading a book in the drawing room. And both of these guys would come, stand for sometime and run away. First I thought, they are playing something, but it wasn’t so. So I looked up.
I asked them, “what are you both upto now?” Pranav spoke up, “Deepa Atya, Soham wants to say something to you.”
“What?”
Then Soham came ahead. “Deepa Atya, can I kiss you on both your cheeks?” Trust me, I think no guy can beat this one ever in my life. These kisses would always be special to me. There was some fear, some anticipation, some excitement in those tiny eyes which I can never ever forget. I smiled and nodded and bent down. He came and slowly kissed me on both my cheeks. And as if that encouraged him further, he asked me “now can you kiss me on my cheeks too?
I was simply smiling ear to ear. And I am smiling as I am writing this as well. Of course, I kissed him too. It’s something that I will never forget. My youngest admirer. :) I think it’s all about the innocence and the simplicity of those years. I hold on to mine very dearly, but I don’t know why, people prefer growing up.
BTW ‘Thanks’ to all those who read the stuff on this space and even wait for whatever I cook here. Initially, I advertised and many people came and read out of friendly courtesy but now its only dedicated patrons.
Hmm! I got a lot of reactions on all the stories that I wrote below. The most common feeling was the latter ones don’t have those dramatic tail-spins as the first two. Simple stories don’t appeal is it? And there is one who prefers orange dawns over the kinky palate and there is another who feels the edge is lost whenever he doesn’t see the kink! So you see good gossip is what sells. But I am a bloody accountant, I don’t sell. I count the money made at the end of the day and show you the reality without any garnish.
This time, I am gonna write about a world within our world, which we don’t see, we don’t observe but its something which is so alive and so beautiful right in the middle of this entire ruckus. I always regretted growing up. And somehow I still get along beautifully with kids more than adults. It’s their world, (and that’s what it is about this time) that I fit in so comfortably, rather than this one where I keep getting lost all the time. I am so sick of trying to find my way every now and then.
So here I go! And by the way, whatever I write here today isn’t fiction; even the names are not changed. J
I belong to this small town called Satara, about 2 ½ hours drive from Pune. I have some relatives there and we do make frequent trips to that place. Satara is another Malgudi. In fact I could go on writing tales about the town itself, but I’ll save that for some other day.
My Atya (Dad’s elder sister) stays there. Her grandson was about two and a half years old when he had started going to a play school. We call him Pranav. Pranav is the only son my bro and bhabhi have, so he didn’t have a sibling to look upto when he came. He was a very quite kid. Mainly because in a riotous family like ours, he never got a chance to open his mouth. But Play school changed a lot of things. He found a friend called Soham. Suddenly he wanted to watch all ‘cool’ cartoons on TV. Once I caught him watching ‘Power-puff girls’, and imagine he told me in his baby voice, “Atya please don’t tell my friends that I was watching PPG”
It was fun to watch them play. I would normally take my novel and sit in hearing distance to see what goes on in that little world. One evening they had decided to make houses in a pile of sand. Each one was busy making his home; and there came Avinash the bully. Avinash was in second grade; he was the tallest among all. He wanted to make a castle and not a small house. After sometime, I could hear Pranav and Soham shriek, “Hey why are you taking our sand? There is plenty of it on the other side.”
Avinash didn’t care, “but I want this sand. You two go and fetch that one for yourself.” These two didn’t say anything and got back to their work. After sometime, Avinash wanted more sand and he took some from our builders’ site. “Avinashhhhhh!” they shouted. But the big boy just would listen. This went on for sometime, till it came to a fist fight. Avinash came and hit Pranav hard. I was just about to intervene, but then I witnessed the most amazing settlement of a brawl. Soham got up, unzipped his shorts, pissed on the sand, and said, “You want all the sand right, now take it.” For next two days, I was laughing even in my sleeps. I immediately took both the boys for a double ice-cream treat, I was so proud of my nephews!
Pranav and Soham were thick pals. Once Soham’s Mom had hit him for something and he came to his buddy. They were sitting under our mango tree and discussing, “I think we have to call Shaktimaan, my Mom keeps beating me…” To which Pranav replies, “I don’t think Shaktimaan can do much, we will have to call ‘Jai Hanuman’! I wish their Mom’s could have heard that their kids thought of them as ‘Mutant Ninjas’ who could be tackled by Super-heroes alone.
Both of them couldn’t do without each other. You would always find them walking hand in hand. But there was one issue where the friendship took a back-seat. And that was the time I realized, this ‘guy thing’ comes inbuilt in the piece itself. Every evening, you would see them walking hand in hand to their third friend’s home. A little girlie called Pushpal. The hands would come off as soon as they reached her home, and there would be a fight over, who would ring the doorbell. So they would be fighting outside her door, all neatly combed hair in a mess, and finally aunty would open the door after hearing the commotion outside her house. I sometimes wonder what the lady must be thinking. At two her daughter was causing a mob fight at her door-step, by the time she would be twenty, her parents would have to keep Hounds and Dobermans to guard the house. And Pushpal madam was even smarter. She would come to play with both of them on each side and holding one hand of hers. After that, all they did was, “Pushpal see I can run faster, Pushpal see I can jump a longer distance, Pushpal see I have a toffee for you. Pushpal who is your favourite, me or him?” The guy who was favoured that evening, would eat his dinner without any tantrums, no sleeping tantrums, he would be the best boy that evening. And the not so favoured, could be heard howling in the neighbourhood.
Then came Deepa Atya (that’s me). Now where every other guy had an Atya who was older than his dad, in a boring saree and always nagging, Pranav’s Atya, wore Jeans, went to a college, took him around on a bike to eat ice-creams and played with him. I didn’t even realize, our boy was already hogging footage in the gang, over his Atya.
I would find it a little strange. Pranav’s friends would come home, look at me, and when I smiled and said hello, they would jump and giggle and run off as if they came to a zoo to see a rare species. It was one evening when Bhabhi’s friend came home, and half jeeringly said to me, “I have come to see Deepa Atya today, coz Pranav doesn’t let every one meet Deepa Atya. My boy is asking his father, don’t you have any sister like Deepa Atya?” After that, I gave a good one to that brat of a nephew of mine. So all the kids were allowed in, and I made it a point to play with each one of them.
But the best piece was this one. One evening, every one else had left and only Soham was lingering around. And these are two and a half year old guys ok! I was reading a book in the drawing room. And both of these guys would come, stand for sometime and run away. First I thought, they are playing something, but it wasn’t so. So I looked up.
I asked them, “what are you both upto now?” Pranav spoke up, “Deepa Atya, Soham wants to say something to you.”
“What?”
Then Soham came ahead. “Deepa Atya, can I kiss you on both your cheeks?” Trust me, I think no guy can beat this one ever in my life. These kisses would always be special to me. There was some fear, some anticipation, some excitement in those tiny eyes which I can never ever forget. I smiled and nodded and bent down. He came and slowly kissed me on both my cheeks. And as if that encouraged him further, he asked me “now can you kiss me on my cheeks too?
I was simply smiling ear to ear. And I am smiling as I am writing this as well. Of course, I kissed him too. It’s something that I will never forget. My youngest admirer. :) I think it’s all about the innocence and the simplicity of those years. I hold on to mine very dearly, but I don’t know why, people prefer growing up.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Pointless Relationships!
It’s a damp evening, slightly chilly. Its about 7.30 pm, an uneventful evening almost lazy. It is reminding me of a similar evening many months ago. I was lazing around the house. Had just passed my CA exam and was waiting to start off with a job. In fact it was a crazy day. I never sleep in the afternoons and that day I slept like a log till about 7 in the eve. When I woke up, I saw my cell was switched off 'coz I had managed to sleep on it. When I put it on, there was a message that someone was trying to call. Now, I don’t return calls on such numbers, but that day I did. It turned out to be an acquaintance; I wouldn’t even call him a friend. Of course, I know this person well, but yes he wasn’t one in the inner circles. He casually asked me for a coffee, if I wasn’t upto something interesting. Again, this is something really crazy, I hate going out on an off-the-cuff invitation, with acquaintances. Not 'coz I am a prude, but I am quite a private person that ways. (I know many of you laughing your wits out at that one, but people that’s coz you are the club I go out with, ask the ones I haven’t gone with!)
From that point started a pointless relationship. A friendship to which I don’t know who contributed more. It was timeless and yet time-bound. Everlasting and yet had to last just so much. But yes, I learnt my lessons, impressions deeply engraved.
And when I looked around myself, I found so many of them scattered like million stars thrown across the dark blue night sky. Each shimmering like a diamond, but everyone knows that they are burning balls of fire, scalding and tumultuous, and not so pretty.
Every time now, when I meet someone and look in their eyes, the eyes ask a question, “so, what’s your story?” Those other sets look away as if they have heard my question, and they don’t want to open that closet that was closed and nailed long time ago! Each tale is buried under layers and layers of humour, new found joys, bitterness in a few cases. But we are animals after all, how long can we stop living because of these Pointless Relationships. There are basic needs of survival and the animal instinct imbedded deep within keeps you going.
But that effort God made, to make you a species different than every other animal, creeps up sometimes. It will die out eventually by our constant battering, but it keeps showing up as long as it is alive.
This one’s about a girl who dealt with her story with a lot of courage. She wasn’t exactly in my ‘group’ in school. But the year that we were leaving school, she gave me a very sweet card. She didn’t give it to everyone, so I knew she meant something when she did to me. It was a silent acknowledgement to a Pointless Friendship (frankly I can’t think of any word, and friendship is the most loosely usable word). She had a heart inside that didn't merely pump blood.
Now she wasn’t somebody really innocent, in fact miles and miles far from that. But must be some reason why my mom always liked her. She used to say, “there is something very simple and innocent about that girl.” At that school girl’s age, I could never understand Ma, but I think I am seeing the point now.
Her innocence lies in the fact that, she feels she can place her trust in someone and forget about it for the rest of her life. She can follow her heart wherever it takes her, and as long as she is honest about it, it’s all ok. She feels the world is a learning ground, you are allowed to make mistakes when you are learning. But there was no one to tell her, it was plain recklessness. This world is still light years away from being that open-minded. This may sound like glorifying her, and many don’t see her the way I do. But I have no reason to associate her with anything vile.
I caught up with her and she was engaged recently after a long groom-hunting exercise her parents undertook. (well that is an epidemic that has struck our generation lately) Which meant she had put behind the fellow she was dating. I never asked her any details, as I never showed interest when she was dating him either.
She was somebody, who in school was a ‘Doormat’. She was the favourite punching bag, favourite butt of every joke, people just walked all over her. Something which I could never tolerate and I would have to stand up for her many times. That time I am sure she must be the lowest in her self esteem. She would ask me, “Do I look pretty? Would guys ever find me attractive? Would anyone ever find me interesting?” I was so young myself, I didn’t know the answer. And I can’t lie.
Next year we went to another class, the only friend she had to start off was me, and I had a different group of my own, but she started hanging around with some other gals. And that turned the tables around. That gang was of gals that guys call the “tote variety”. I kind of lost track of her life after that, that ugly duckling was turning into a swan. Afterwards, there were many stories that started doing rounds, which weren’t nice to hear. I never let my Ma know about those stories about her, somehow I didn’t want to. Probably it happens; when suddenly a flood gate opens, the first thing is always a gush, a strong one that sweeps you away.
I had contacted her after almost three years for a friend who was looking for a bride. I had no intentions of match-making but my friend was after my life and just had to trace her. But then she had found someone. Uncle somehow was very keen on her tying the knot before he retired which was end of this year. In her words, he wasn’t interested if the meeting of the minds and the chemistry happened or not. She had to marry! Many guys came and met her. She is a pretty looking damsel now, so everyone she saw would be quite positive, but when she met them one-to-one, none of them had the courage to handle her past. Uncle didn’t know what was going wrong.
It came to a point where he avoided these one-to-one sessions itself and fixed her up. This time she met her man alone only after she was engaged. But resilient as our lady is, she still wanted the man to know! I must mention here, the Religion that she comes from, doesn’t tolerate a girl after a broken marriage. Its unimaginable how she would have lived with a taboo for the rest of her life, firstly of her past and secondly of the failed marriage. She would have paid a heavy price for a relationship which was absolutely Pointless when it was. It should have been inconsequential ideally because it was meant to end, isn’t it? So then why did these guys who came to see her hold it against her?
She narrated the story of her first meeting with him to me. She first told him everything, and he was listening to her without a pause. In her heart she had prepared herself for the storm. When she was done, she could see he was livid. In a fit of rage he caught her by her arm and dragged her to the car and took her to his home. There was no one home that day. He paced up and down for a long time. She didn’t say word in her own defense. Finally when it was about to get dark, he dropped her home and left without saying anything. She was simply waiting for him to call up the next day and call the wedding off. But nobody called the next day. A day later, her Mom called the groom’s family for dinner. Rafat didn’t know what was happening. She dressed up for the evening and was waiting for the inevitable.
“Masha-allah! She is looking absolutely beautiful”, said the future Mom-in-law. Rafat didn’t have the guts to look up at her groom (well maybe).
Her brother added to it, “Jeeju, you should consider yourself lucky to have found my Api!” Rafat so wanted to dissolve in the air when he said that.
“Yes, I am!” he replied. Rafat couldn’t believe it. She just looked up at him in search of that smirk that she missed in his voice. He wasn’t smirking. He returned her gaze and smiled. She knew she had met her man.
I am so happy that she found someone who would take care of her now. It’s a man’s job to take care of his lady, and lucky is the woman who finds a Man; her Man! And these relationships are the ones that have a point!
From that point started a pointless relationship. A friendship to which I don’t know who contributed more. It was timeless and yet time-bound. Everlasting and yet had to last just so much. But yes, I learnt my lessons, impressions deeply engraved.
And when I looked around myself, I found so many of them scattered like million stars thrown across the dark blue night sky. Each shimmering like a diamond, but everyone knows that they are burning balls of fire, scalding and tumultuous, and not so pretty.
Every time now, when I meet someone and look in their eyes, the eyes ask a question, “so, what’s your story?” Those other sets look away as if they have heard my question, and they don’t want to open that closet that was closed and nailed long time ago! Each tale is buried under layers and layers of humour, new found joys, bitterness in a few cases. But we are animals after all, how long can we stop living because of these Pointless Relationships. There are basic needs of survival and the animal instinct imbedded deep within keeps you going.
But that effort God made, to make you a species different than every other animal, creeps up sometimes. It will die out eventually by our constant battering, but it keeps showing up as long as it is alive.
This one’s about a girl who dealt with her story with a lot of courage. She wasn’t exactly in my ‘group’ in school. But the year that we were leaving school, she gave me a very sweet card. She didn’t give it to everyone, so I knew she meant something when she did to me. It was a silent acknowledgement to a Pointless Friendship (frankly I can’t think of any word, and friendship is the most loosely usable word). She had a heart inside that didn't merely pump blood.
Now she wasn’t somebody really innocent, in fact miles and miles far from that. But must be some reason why my mom always liked her. She used to say, “there is something very simple and innocent about that girl.” At that school girl’s age, I could never understand Ma, but I think I am seeing the point now.
Her innocence lies in the fact that, she feels she can place her trust in someone and forget about it for the rest of her life. She can follow her heart wherever it takes her, and as long as she is honest about it, it’s all ok. She feels the world is a learning ground, you are allowed to make mistakes when you are learning. But there was no one to tell her, it was plain recklessness. This world is still light years away from being that open-minded. This may sound like glorifying her, and many don’t see her the way I do. But I have no reason to associate her with anything vile.
I caught up with her and she was engaged recently after a long groom-hunting exercise her parents undertook. (well that is an epidemic that has struck our generation lately) Which meant she had put behind the fellow she was dating. I never asked her any details, as I never showed interest when she was dating him either.
She was somebody, who in school was a ‘Doormat’. She was the favourite punching bag, favourite butt of every joke, people just walked all over her. Something which I could never tolerate and I would have to stand up for her many times. That time I am sure she must be the lowest in her self esteem. She would ask me, “Do I look pretty? Would guys ever find me attractive? Would anyone ever find me interesting?” I was so young myself, I didn’t know the answer. And I can’t lie.
Next year we went to another class, the only friend she had to start off was me, and I had a different group of my own, but she started hanging around with some other gals. And that turned the tables around. That gang was of gals that guys call the “tote variety”. I kind of lost track of her life after that, that ugly duckling was turning into a swan. Afterwards, there were many stories that started doing rounds, which weren’t nice to hear. I never let my Ma know about those stories about her, somehow I didn’t want to. Probably it happens; when suddenly a flood gate opens, the first thing is always a gush, a strong one that sweeps you away.
I had contacted her after almost three years for a friend who was looking for a bride. I had no intentions of match-making but my friend was after my life and just had to trace her. But then she had found someone. Uncle somehow was very keen on her tying the knot before he retired which was end of this year. In her words, he wasn’t interested if the meeting of the minds and the chemistry happened or not. She had to marry! Many guys came and met her. She is a pretty looking damsel now, so everyone she saw would be quite positive, but when she met them one-to-one, none of them had the courage to handle her past. Uncle didn’t know what was going wrong.
It came to a point where he avoided these one-to-one sessions itself and fixed her up. This time she met her man alone only after she was engaged. But resilient as our lady is, she still wanted the man to know! I must mention here, the Religion that she comes from, doesn’t tolerate a girl after a broken marriage. Its unimaginable how she would have lived with a taboo for the rest of her life, firstly of her past and secondly of the failed marriage. She would have paid a heavy price for a relationship which was absolutely Pointless when it was. It should have been inconsequential ideally because it was meant to end, isn’t it? So then why did these guys who came to see her hold it against her?
She narrated the story of her first meeting with him to me. She first told him everything, and he was listening to her without a pause. In her heart she had prepared herself for the storm. When she was done, she could see he was livid. In a fit of rage he caught her by her arm and dragged her to the car and took her to his home. There was no one home that day. He paced up and down for a long time. She didn’t say word in her own defense. Finally when it was about to get dark, he dropped her home and left without saying anything. She was simply waiting for him to call up the next day and call the wedding off. But nobody called the next day. A day later, her Mom called the groom’s family for dinner. Rafat didn’t know what was happening. She dressed up for the evening and was waiting for the inevitable.
“Masha-allah! She is looking absolutely beautiful”, said the future Mom-in-law. Rafat didn’t have the guts to look up at her groom (well maybe).
Her brother added to it, “Jeeju, you should consider yourself lucky to have found my Api!” Rafat so wanted to dissolve in the air when he said that.
“Yes, I am!” he replied. Rafat couldn’t believe it. She just looked up at him in search of that smirk that she missed in his voice. He wasn’t smirking. He returned her gaze and smiled. She knew she had met her man.
I am so happy that she found someone who would take care of her now. It’s a man’s job to take care of his lady, and lucky is the woman who finds a Man; her Man! And these relationships are the ones that have a point!
Friday, August 1, 2008
Addiction!
This one is more like Britannia Little Hearts. Tiny, light biscuits kissed with sugar. Not as intense as the previous ones, but would sound like one of those Malgudi days short-stories.
Addiction is something I am really scared of. Now I don’t know exactly where does this stem from. Maybe I saw too many programs on TV about substance abuse, I remember Doordarshan used to have quite a many of those kinds when I was small. Although I haven’t met anyone personally who is an addict, but that phobia has just stuck.
I have addicted and de-addicted myself from a lot of things, Orange candies, Eclairs, Chewing gum, Sugar. Coffee for one! The amount of coffee I used have in a day was crazy. If I smelled coffee beans somewhere, I would start following the whiff and reach the destination. It came to a point when I would get a headache if I didn’t manage to get my cuppa. That was it. I simply restricted myself to one cup a day. Even the sight of coffee used to make me paranoid. Now I still have coffee, but not like a maniac.
Once me and some friends went to this place called Sanskruti in Pune. It’s a resort with lots of things to do apart from just eating. You’d find tattoo makers, cartoonists, palmists, astrologers, and the likes strewn all over the place. And living up to the traits of my gender, I went to the astrologer first. Of course now astrologers don’t come with any credentials, you just have to go along with whatever they say. He may be correct about some things and may not about others. But then how do you decide, which bit would come true after all? He started off, “You are an intelligent girl, you will do well in your career. But you are a very hot-headed woman, you should watch your words. Can’t really figure out when will you get married and how would your husband be like.” I said to myself, wow I couldn’t have figured even an iota of this using my nut sized brain. Then came the mother of all, “By the way, you should stay from liquor or similar things as you have a tendency of getting addicted to things” Damn! He just had to say that and I was doomed for life.
Next day I met my friend Rishi. Rishi is someone ……! Ok this is a futile effort. Let me just say, he is knows me the way only a real friend can know. “Rishi you know what, I think I am addicted.” He just looked at my face, “addicted to what?”
“Pepsi”
“What?”
“I have been having a bottle of Pepsi everyday. See, people stopped having it after the pesticide episode, but I still didn’t. I have it if I have a headache, I have it if I have a stomach upset, even if I have cold, anything for that matter.” “I didn’t realize it was a grave condition, until yesterday when this guy told me I can hooked on to things!”
And this is precisely why Rishi is my friend; he didn’t laugh at me, he didn’t shoot my thoughts down, and in all probability he didn’t buy my theory but he still treated me as if he believed in every word that I said. “Ok in that case, we should first cure you out of this, and next time be careful that you don’t get addicted to anything new.” That was quite reassuring and once Rishi had taken things in his hands, days were sunny again.
Initially, we substituted the Cola with Lime soda. Then I started having so much of lime soda that I had to substitute lime soda with apple juice; so on and so forth. Rishi took care that I didn’t continue with any thing for more than a month.
Then one day! “Rishi I am addicted to the kathi kabab rolls in Olympia.” Not my fault, anybody who has eaten those kathi kababs, would stand up for me. It was difficult to resist as no road in Pune reached my home, without passing Olympia. Even if I tried to pull myself away, it just didn’t work. Now even my mom was irritated at this one, because I was having one every day. And if I didn’t get one I would act like a cranky Queen of Sheeba, who just ordered and people would make people run around and fetch whatever I wanted.
This addiction thing was far more perilous than I had imagined. I was paranoid about anything and every thing that I ate or drank. I would drive Rishi crazy. Now when I think of it, why did he even tolerate me? But he had adopted me like a kid. And I am sure he must have promised himself he will never have kids of his own after that. Everyday he would talk to me; put my demons to rest. If he could, he would meet me as much possible. He never left me unattended as if I was an imbecile. And I was turning into a spoilt brat. I wouldn’t sleep until I had spoken to him. There were times, that I would call him, have nothing to say, then wish him good night and hang up. If I craved for something, I would want to have it in his presence, as if he would catch the demon called ‘Addiction’ by its neck and fling him into space.
One day I hear my Ma warning Rishi, “Beta, you are spoiling her. She is taking advantage of this whole thing now.” Imagine My own Mom and telling Him all this. It blew my lid off. What were they thinking? Was I some kind of trouble making, attention seeking, spoilt kid? When I now think of it, I did play it to perfection though! :-)
I just decided, I don’t need Rishi. I can very well manage on my own. I would never be able to repay what he did for me as a friend, but Goodbye and Thank you! Of course, I couldn’t stop talking to Ma, but I would never go to her, even if I had to go to a Rehab every time I got addicted to something; even if it was Orange juice. To hell with all of them!
At night, when I hit my bed, I couldn’t call him and I hate to confess, it was difficult to fall asleep. I started the next day with a grumpy face as I hadn’t slept. One day passed, two days passed, I still didn’t get sleep at all. I just couldn’t figure out what was wrong. I was eating well, coming to bed on time, no boyfriend trouble; there was nothing that would give me sleepless nights.
Suddenly lightening struck, Wait a minute, did I get addicted to him?
Addiction is something I am really scared of. Now I don’t know exactly where does this stem from. Maybe I saw too many programs on TV about substance abuse, I remember Doordarshan used to have quite a many of those kinds when I was small. Although I haven’t met anyone personally who is an addict, but that phobia has just stuck.
I have addicted and de-addicted myself from a lot of things, Orange candies, Eclairs, Chewing gum, Sugar. Coffee for one! The amount of coffee I used have in a day was crazy. If I smelled coffee beans somewhere, I would start following the whiff and reach the destination. It came to a point when I would get a headache if I didn’t manage to get my cuppa. That was it. I simply restricted myself to one cup a day. Even the sight of coffee used to make me paranoid. Now I still have coffee, but not like a maniac.
Once me and some friends went to this place called Sanskruti in Pune. It’s a resort with lots of things to do apart from just eating. You’d find tattoo makers, cartoonists, palmists, astrologers, and the likes strewn all over the place. And living up to the traits of my gender, I went to the astrologer first. Of course now astrologers don’t come with any credentials, you just have to go along with whatever they say. He may be correct about some things and may not about others. But then how do you decide, which bit would come true after all? He started off, “You are an intelligent girl, you will do well in your career. But you are a very hot-headed woman, you should watch your words. Can’t really figure out when will you get married and how would your husband be like.” I said to myself, wow I couldn’t have figured even an iota of this using my nut sized brain. Then came the mother of all, “By the way, you should stay from liquor or similar things as you have a tendency of getting addicted to things” Damn! He just had to say that and I was doomed for life.
Next day I met my friend Rishi. Rishi is someone ……! Ok this is a futile effort. Let me just say, he is knows me the way only a real friend can know. “Rishi you know what, I think I am addicted.” He just looked at my face, “addicted to what?”
“Pepsi”
“What?”
“I have been having a bottle of Pepsi everyday. See, people stopped having it after the pesticide episode, but I still didn’t. I have it if I have a headache, I have it if I have a stomach upset, even if I have cold, anything for that matter.” “I didn’t realize it was a grave condition, until yesterday when this guy told me I can hooked on to things!”
And this is precisely why Rishi is my friend; he didn’t laugh at me, he didn’t shoot my thoughts down, and in all probability he didn’t buy my theory but he still treated me as if he believed in every word that I said. “Ok in that case, we should first cure you out of this, and next time be careful that you don’t get addicted to anything new.” That was quite reassuring and once Rishi had taken things in his hands, days were sunny again.
Initially, we substituted the Cola with Lime soda. Then I started having so much of lime soda that I had to substitute lime soda with apple juice; so on and so forth. Rishi took care that I didn’t continue with any thing for more than a month.
Then one day! “Rishi I am addicted to the kathi kabab rolls in Olympia.” Not my fault, anybody who has eaten those kathi kababs, would stand up for me. It was difficult to resist as no road in Pune reached my home, without passing Olympia. Even if I tried to pull myself away, it just didn’t work. Now even my mom was irritated at this one, because I was having one every day. And if I didn’t get one I would act like a cranky Queen of Sheeba, who just ordered and people would make people run around and fetch whatever I wanted.
This addiction thing was far more perilous than I had imagined. I was paranoid about anything and every thing that I ate or drank. I would drive Rishi crazy. Now when I think of it, why did he even tolerate me? But he had adopted me like a kid. And I am sure he must have promised himself he will never have kids of his own after that. Everyday he would talk to me; put my demons to rest. If he could, he would meet me as much possible. He never left me unattended as if I was an imbecile. And I was turning into a spoilt brat. I wouldn’t sleep until I had spoken to him. There were times, that I would call him, have nothing to say, then wish him good night and hang up. If I craved for something, I would want to have it in his presence, as if he would catch the demon called ‘Addiction’ by its neck and fling him into space.
One day I hear my Ma warning Rishi, “Beta, you are spoiling her. She is taking advantage of this whole thing now.” Imagine My own Mom and telling Him all this. It blew my lid off. What were they thinking? Was I some kind of trouble making, attention seeking, spoilt kid? When I now think of it, I did play it to perfection though! :-)
I just decided, I don’t need Rishi. I can very well manage on my own. I would never be able to repay what he did for me as a friend, but Goodbye and Thank you! Of course, I couldn’t stop talking to Ma, but I would never go to her, even if I had to go to a Rehab every time I got addicted to something; even if it was Orange juice. To hell with all of them!
At night, when I hit my bed, I couldn’t call him and I hate to confess, it was difficult to fall asleep. I started the next day with a grumpy face as I hadn’t slept. One day passed, two days passed, I still didn’t get sleep at all. I just couldn’t figure out what was wrong. I was eating well, coming to bed on time, no boyfriend trouble; there was nothing that would give me sleepless nights.
Suddenly lightening struck, Wait a minute, did I get addicted to him?
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
First Draft...
Well! Anil said if I wrote about him, he will have to read the first draft; so here it is...
We were about 20 odd, who had joined Capgemini. A bunch of 20 over enthusiactic, aspiring Management Assurance Consultants in Bangalore. Out if these 20, about 15 were placed in a company guest house till the time we found a roof of our own. I still remember very vividly that evening when, one of us had got a map to pin down where we were located and then where the office was and which were the suitable areas to live. Our dinner time, when 14 men would walk on the road guarding the only girl in that lot. Honestly, each one of these 14 deserves one story of his own.
The biggest shock of my life came when they all turned out to be vegetarians. Now, to make you understand how grave the situation was, my mom used to call every evening before we went for dinner, and baby-talk me into appreciating the flora instead of fauna. And I used to manage to survive that meal.
Anil was one guy who had appreciable table manners, and I couldn't help noticing that. I guess its just a fallout of being an army officer's daughter. When the Delhiites, and Puneites were busy being boisterous, Anil was a soft spoken, everyone's guy.
Meanwhile my vegetarian ordeal was at its peak when the weekend came. I had not smelled meat for a week, which meant I would have lost interest in my food if I missed this weekend. My mom, sent out an SOS to my brother, who came down and took me to this amazing place and I simply cut-loose. In the evening I came back and my face was evidently fresh and lively. The dinner wasn't so depressing after that. On the table, everyone asked about my day. I mentioned chirpily, "I went out with my brother, had some amazing chicken curry at this dhaba..." Suddenly, I hear Anil shrieking as if he saw a ghost... "what the hell, you are a non-vegetarian??" I was like Is he Maneka Gandhi's supporter or something? But if he comes up with some 'vegetarian bano, achha hai!' shit... I'll kill him. "Yes I am! Any problem?"
"What crap! I was thinking everyone is a veggie here and I didnt have company to order meat..." My expression changed from 'attacking' to 'melting'. It was like God saw my plight and sent a saviour; maybe he just turned into a non-veggie 5 mins ago to save me from this 'all grass & leaves' world. After that we struck a chord instantly :) If he preferred mutton over chicken, so did I. If I didn't like omlettes, even he didn't. And finally that One thing that sealed our friendship was KFC. Our office canteen food wasn't something you would die for, maybe you could die if you had it continuosly for more than a couple of days. So me and Anil, would stash our sodexos in our pockets and head towards KFC.
He had travelling job, so he would go away for weeks together and I would wait ardently for him. If he was online one thing we never missed discussing was our 'menu'. Infact, once he just pinged, "so whats special today?"; I replied, "Chicken Biryani !!" "No you duffer, I was talking about the day, its friday the 13th". That was our obsession with our grub! So much that we came to a conclusion that our tummys were siblings. And like all siblings, there was a bit of sibling rivalry too. I hated when he visited Europe and had ham and bacon and what not EVERYDAY, and to top it, he would religiously tell me too, ofcourse to make me feel jealous.
One day, he came and said, "Hey Deeps! I am shifting base to Chennai." It came out quite casually and even I didn't react too much. And we still keep going to KFC like two best friends from school, hopping down to the candy shop. But one fine day he did go away. And like a fool, my tummy realized that the sibling had gone! Tummy didnt feel like going to KFC after that.
Slowly, tummy got used to eating without the sibling, We still discuss food whenever we get the opportunity on the net. But more than anything else, I realized, it was not just about food. Its his friendship that I will miss and we keep consoling each other that distance doesn't matter, but I am unsure of it, and I really hope it doesn't. I wish Anil wrote this, he is brilliant with words. And right now, he must be wondering what a moron am I to write this piece now, coz even if he does earn some brownie points with the girlies, he is married now :D
We were about 20 odd, who had joined Capgemini. A bunch of 20 over enthusiactic, aspiring Management Assurance Consultants in Bangalore. Out if these 20, about 15 were placed in a company guest house till the time we found a roof of our own. I still remember very vividly that evening when, one of us had got a map to pin down where we were located and then where the office was and which were the suitable areas to live. Our dinner time, when 14 men would walk on the road guarding the only girl in that lot. Honestly, each one of these 14 deserves one story of his own.
The biggest shock of my life came when they all turned out to be vegetarians. Now, to make you understand how grave the situation was, my mom used to call every evening before we went for dinner, and baby-talk me into appreciating the flora instead of fauna. And I used to manage to survive that meal.
Anil was one guy who had appreciable table manners, and I couldn't help noticing that. I guess its just a fallout of being an army officer's daughter. When the Delhiites, and Puneites were busy being boisterous, Anil was a soft spoken, everyone's guy.
Meanwhile my vegetarian ordeal was at its peak when the weekend came. I had not smelled meat for a week, which meant I would have lost interest in my food if I missed this weekend. My mom, sent out an SOS to my brother, who came down and took me to this amazing place and I simply cut-loose. In the evening I came back and my face was evidently fresh and lively. The dinner wasn't so depressing after that. On the table, everyone asked about my day. I mentioned chirpily, "I went out with my brother, had some amazing chicken curry at this dhaba..." Suddenly, I hear Anil shrieking as if he saw a ghost... "what the hell, you are a non-vegetarian??" I was like Is he Maneka Gandhi's supporter or something? But if he comes up with some 'vegetarian bano, achha hai!' shit... I'll kill him. "Yes I am! Any problem?"
"What crap! I was thinking everyone is a veggie here and I didnt have company to order meat..." My expression changed from 'attacking' to 'melting'. It was like God saw my plight and sent a saviour; maybe he just turned into a non-veggie 5 mins ago to save me from this 'all grass & leaves' world. After that we struck a chord instantly :) If he preferred mutton over chicken, so did I. If I didn't like omlettes, even he didn't. And finally that One thing that sealed our friendship was KFC. Our office canteen food wasn't something you would die for, maybe you could die if you had it continuosly for more than a couple of days. So me and Anil, would stash our sodexos in our pockets and head towards KFC.
He had travelling job, so he would go away for weeks together and I would wait ardently for him. If he was online one thing we never missed discussing was our 'menu'. Infact, once he just pinged, "so whats special today?"; I replied, "Chicken Biryani !!" "No you duffer, I was talking about the day, its friday the 13th". That was our obsession with our grub! So much that we came to a conclusion that our tummys were siblings. And like all siblings, there was a bit of sibling rivalry too. I hated when he visited Europe and had ham and bacon and what not EVERYDAY, and to top it, he would religiously tell me too, ofcourse to make me feel jealous.
One day, he came and said, "Hey Deeps! I am shifting base to Chennai." It came out quite casually and even I didn't react too much. And we still keep going to KFC like two best friends from school, hopping down to the candy shop. But one fine day he did go away. And like a fool, my tummy realized that the sibling had gone! Tummy didnt feel like going to KFC after that.
Slowly, tummy got used to eating without the sibling, We still discuss food whenever we get the opportunity on the net. But more than anything else, I realized, it was not just about food. Its his friendship that I will miss and we keep consoling each other that distance doesn't matter, but I am unsure of it, and I really hope it doesn't. I wish Anil wrote this, he is brilliant with words. And right now, he must be wondering what a moron am I to write this piece now, coz even if he does earn some brownie points with the girlies, he is married now :D
Monday, July 14, 2008
Over a cup of coffee!
It was a freaky friday. Generally the rains in Bangalore are some what pansy, especially for someone who has seen Pune - Mumbai's full-blooded rains. But that night was different, it was pouring like crazy; almost as if it was a cosmic scheme. Perfect ambience for a cup of coffee. We are species, who's lives are divided into 2 kinds of days- weekdays & weekends. Weekdays are when we are tamed, docile, money spinning cattle for our organizations; and on weekends, infact right from Friday eve itself, we start turning into these beasts who tend to increase their fluid intake, which could even be coffee.
Actually, Vivek was passing by and thought of dropping in till the rain gods mellowed down a bit. He came with his friend, 'Shashank'. Vivek loves the coffee that I make, and everytime he is remotely close to my place, he loves to drop by, ofcourse I always tell myself aloud, he comes to meet me too. He is generally accompanied by some random friend of his. It wasn't the first time that Shashank had come home. He had come before, but ofcourse his status was a 'friend's friend'. Therefore, the conversation would generally be of the 'small talk' genre. But yes, after a couple of meetings things had thawed a bit and we all did have a certain comfort level. Not that chemistry of chaddi-buddies, but yes we could talk about our screw-ups without a second thought.
Shashank loves my coffee too, but the way he would put is, "I can go to a coffee-shop too but why do that when you get something better, that too for free". And maybe this ideology could have fitted like a 'T' to various other situations in life too.
It all started with a mosquito bite on Shashank's neck. Now this bite, first of all was too big for a mosquito to manage, and the mark was as if the mosquito was a love-bites god. In short, it was so bloody obvious. And I suffer from chronic curiosity.
"Shashank, is that a love bite?"
"Yep"
"Did you get lucky last night?"
"Yep"
"Last time when we met, you said you were a virgin"
"That I still am"
"Then you got urself bitten just to show it off to people, is it?
My curiosity bugged him and he looked into my eyes. For one sec I thought, here comes the slap... but it didn't. Instead he caught hold of my hand, and made me sit and listen.
"Sit here, what do you think, things work in a perfect fashion in this world? You like someone very much, he has to be your dearest friend, is it? If you gel the best with someone, you will obviously find love in him/ her, is it? Or if you love someone, you will end up with that person? And if you end up with person you love, you will never fall out of love? What the hell is wrong with you, can't you see the world around you? This world runs on needs..."
I still couldn't see it quite honestly, and probably he saw it on my face too. "She is my dearest friend goddammit. She is the only one I had as company since I can remember. She got married 2 yrs ago, and since then I have not seen her happy for a single day. That bastard of a husband that she has, has not given her a single moment of joy in these two years. Honest to god, we didn't have an affair, and it was a platonic relationship. I still can't bring myself up to say that I love her in that sense. Yes I do care the world for her. I can't see her in pain at all. If she derives emotional or physical comfort from me, so be it. I don't care what the world thinks."
"And what about you? Don't you feel used? Why doesn't she leave that guy and then derive this 'comfort'? And if she can't leave that guy, why can't she be bold and accept her reality? If being a friend, you are letting her walk over you, why can't she being a friend, see what she is putting you through?" I think that must have been my best at being tactless. "And what happens when she doesn't need you anymore?"
Actually, Vivek was passing by and thought of dropping in till the rain gods mellowed down a bit. He came with his friend, 'Shashank'. Vivek loves the coffee that I make, and everytime he is remotely close to my place, he loves to drop by, ofcourse I always tell myself aloud, he comes to meet me too. He is generally accompanied by some random friend of his. It wasn't the first time that Shashank had come home. He had come before, but ofcourse his status was a 'friend's friend'. Therefore, the conversation would generally be of the 'small talk' genre. But yes, after a couple of meetings things had thawed a bit and we all did have a certain comfort level. Not that chemistry of chaddi-buddies, but yes we could talk about our screw-ups without a second thought.
Shashank loves my coffee too, but the way he would put is, "I can go to a coffee-shop too but why do that when you get something better, that too for free". And maybe this ideology could have fitted like a 'T' to various other situations in life too.
It all started with a mosquito bite on Shashank's neck. Now this bite, first of all was too big for a mosquito to manage, and the mark was as if the mosquito was a love-bites god. In short, it was so bloody obvious. And I suffer from chronic curiosity.
"Shashank, is that a love bite?"
"Yep"
"Did you get lucky last night?"
"Yep"
"Last time when we met, you said you were a virgin"
"That I still am"
"Then you got urself bitten just to show it off to people, is it?
My curiosity bugged him and he looked into my eyes. For one sec I thought, here comes the slap... but it didn't. Instead he caught hold of my hand, and made me sit and listen.
"Sit here, what do you think, things work in a perfect fashion in this world? You like someone very much, he has to be your dearest friend, is it? If you gel the best with someone, you will obviously find love in him/ her, is it? Or if you love someone, you will end up with that person? And if you end up with person you love, you will never fall out of love? What the hell is wrong with you, can't you see the world around you? This world runs on needs..."
I still couldn't see it quite honestly, and probably he saw it on my face too. "She is my dearest friend goddammit. She is the only one I had as company since I can remember. She got married 2 yrs ago, and since then I have not seen her happy for a single day. That bastard of a husband that she has, has not given her a single moment of joy in these two years. Honest to god, we didn't have an affair, and it was a platonic relationship. I still can't bring myself up to say that I love her in that sense. Yes I do care the world for her. I can't see her in pain at all. If she derives emotional or physical comfort from me, so be it. I don't care what the world thinks."
"And what about you? Don't you feel used? Why doesn't she leave that guy and then derive this 'comfort'? And if she can't leave that guy, why can't she be bold and accept her reality? If being a friend, you are letting her walk over you, why can't she being a friend, see what she is putting you through?" I think that must have been my best at being tactless. "And what happens when she doesn't need you anymore?"
Its scary when you can see with crystal clarity, that somebody is headed towards immense pain.
"Listen lady, its mutual. Even I have started depending on her for love and care. She cares for me and I care for her. Yes, accepted it is going beyond legitimate definitions. And its gonna be this way, as long as she wants, as long as we want..." And his voice trailed off coz he knew, he didn't have the choice, it was all about her. He wanted to believe that even he was getting something out of this arrangement but actually he couldn't convince himself as he was speaking. "I don't want to do it Deepa. More than physical, its emotional abuse. I wish she did it physically, I think I could have handled it, but this is draining the life out of me." "Get me out of this please, help me."
That night, I tried making him talk it through. I so badly wanted to get him out of this. Everyone had gone off to sleep and we spoke right into the morning. I tried speaking more and more to him, to make him see the real picture. Over a period of time, I felt it was working and I kept trying hard.
One Saturday evening I decided to give him a surprise. I know weekends can get sick if you are trying to get out of a situation. Actually, I had just met him for lunch and he wouldn't have expected me to come back all the way in the evening. The door was ajar, and I walked in. His bedroom door was closed, I guess he was sleeping. I thought I'll knock, but somehow I can't wake people up from their sleeps. I stood there thinking what to do, and finally just turned around to return. Suddenly, I could hear some wierd sounds coming from inside. I kind of figured out what was happening inside and it blew my lid off. It didnt want to stand there for a second longer.
But it didnt end there. There was a male voice, "Shashank saale, lets go out of town next weekend, this is too risky. I just keep thinking about some friend dropping in all the time."
That night he came by after dinner. We went out for a coffee. He wasn't talking much, and I realized how I had completely missed this silence before, or maybe misunderstood completely. Usually, I could carry on a conversation all by myself but today I just didn't have anything to say. All I could do was place my hand on his. He looked at me and said, "Save me if you can, I wanna get out of this....she will kill me someday..."
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
...Beginner's Luck
I kept wondering for a long time, who would the first character be. Not that I was lost for characters, it was just a 'blonde moment' where I was thinking, "who is that one character, who gets to do the opening act on My blog' :D:D:D" But when I actually couldnt make up my mind as to who to favour, I have finally decided on this fella, I havent met for a long long time, but sure was fun to be around....
Like every other evening, the Café was buzzing with people coming and leaving. People in all shapes, sizes, colours and quirks. I was waiting for my turn to get a machine to surf. This dates back to those old days when we surfed from a ‘Cyber Café’. Yeah, this Café isn’t Barista; firstly coz they were non-existent that time, and secondly even if they existed, we were students living on the mercy of our parents. So, I had actually found this ‘Café’ which charged about 10 bucks an hour instead of the usual 20 which others charged. But more than the economics, it was the place that attracted me. That place is closed down now, but even now, every time I pass that road, I still peep in. It was an open place, where if you were bitchy enough, you could see an internet romance blooming, or someone typing, “I can’t live with him anymore, what do you think I should do now?” Or someone sitting next to you would peep into your machine and start messaging, actually taking a chance that you are so dumb not to understand…. even after mentioning the colour of your T-shirt. Ofcourse there were females, who would shriek in disbelief, “oh my god! I think this guy is following me, he even knows what T-shirt am I wearing at the moment”. All this in full volume mode, so that every fella in the café would know, she is being stalked. Crazy that place was. And I would take my stool and observe, keeping my smile within me, waiting till my turn came.
Before I met him, my friend had already told me, “you know there is this fella, who likes your eyes”. (Of course, it felt good…) :) :) . But that day, he came with a BIG Baby’s milk bottle, complete with the nipple, and would coolly go to everyone and say, “can you put a Rupee in my piggy bank?” Now of course, why would you think twice, before putting in a dime. He had indeed collected a handsome amount. When he came to me, I was just gonna say something, when my friend screamed, “hey he is the one who likes your eyes…” One of the most winsome smiles, I have ever seen, lit that face.
I never interacted with him a lot, but he was someone, who was always talked about. Somewhere I lost track of him. But I kept bumping into him as Pune is a very small place.
Then probably after about 2-3 years, I was at ‘Scream’ and someone comes and pats my back. I turned around and saw him. The café had closed down, and life was kicking us to grow up, studies had got serious, and then to see him after such a long time was such a good feeling inside. And not to mention, that ‘winsome’ smile was still very much there. We came aside and spoke. It was the first time I spoke to him about his life.
He is an Arab, one out of 7-8 siblings. He has decided to stay in India. The last I heard of him, he wasn’t fending for himself, so his dad I believe was funding him. He had even picked up some marathi. Of course I couldn’t understand his English let alone marathi. But some how, the watchmans and the pan-walas could. He would watch all crazy Bollywood movies. Maybe he had turned more Indian than any other pure blooded Indian.
He was in love with this Indian girl. Crazy about her. But both knew it wasn’t headed any where. It was too much for a Marathi Brahmin to accept a Muslim son-in-law, and that too not an India. It was a lost battle even before it could have started. He tried too many ways to get out of it. He put his winsome smile to use, and won a lot of dates and one night stands, and all the jazz, but of no use. I particularly remember this woman who SMSed him, “you are the Lord Krishna of my life”. Poor guy.
And the girl, she was one hell of a temperamental woman. She wasn’t moving on, and wasn’t letting him move on too. Her folks fixed her up with someone, and she agreed. But still wouldn’t let him go.
Finally, he went for her wedding, saw her marrying someone else. And in his own words, “Deepa, I danced the most that night. I saw her married off. You win some, you lose some. And I have moved on.” That smile again.
It was something that shook me up. Coz I had known their story since the café days, and I had heard they indeed were a pair. After such a long relationship, I am sure it wasn’t easy for him. Till that day, he was just a strange and funny character I knew, but after I met him this time, I had immense respect for the way he went about it and gracefully accepted the reality. It takes some courage to attend the wedding of someone you really love like that, and usher her into a new life, with someone else. Every time I thought of him after that, all I could remember was his line, “I danced the most at her wedding”.
After that, I lost him in time again. A year later, I found him in Barista sitting with some cool babe. Believe me I was so happy that he was with someone. Ofcourse he was a charmer and he couldn’t have stayed single for long anyways. I walked up to him. He was sporting that killing smile of his. “So, is she your girlfriend?” I asked.
“Hey you have never met her right? She is Aarti. Her bloody husband is not in town, so I am officiating…” And that winsome smile again!
Like every other evening, the Café was buzzing with people coming and leaving. People in all shapes, sizes, colours and quirks. I was waiting for my turn to get a machine to surf. This dates back to those old days when we surfed from a ‘Cyber Café’. Yeah, this Café isn’t Barista; firstly coz they were non-existent that time, and secondly even if they existed, we were students living on the mercy of our parents. So, I had actually found this ‘Café’ which charged about 10 bucks an hour instead of the usual 20 which others charged. But more than the economics, it was the place that attracted me. That place is closed down now, but even now, every time I pass that road, I still peep in. It was an open place, where if you were bitchy enough, you could see an internet romance blooming, or someone typing, “I can’t live with him anymore, what do you think I should do now?” Or someone sitting next to you would peep into your machine and start messaging, actually taking a chance that you are so dumb not to understand…. even after mentioning the colour of your T-shirt. Ofcourse there were females, who would shriek in disbelief, “oh my god! I think this guy is following me, he even knows what T-shirt am I wearing at the moment”. All this in full volume mode, so that every fella in the café would know, she is being stalked. Crazy that place was. And I would take my stool and observe, keeping my smile within me, waiting till my turn came.
Before I met him, my friend had already told me, “you know there is this fella, who likes your eyes”. (Of course, it felt good…) :) :) . But that day, he came with a BIG Baby’s milk bottle, complete with the nipple, and would coolly go to everyone and say, “can you put a Rupee in my piggy bank?” Now of course, why would you think twice, before putting in a dime. He had indeed collected a handsome amount. When he came to me, I was just gonna say something, when my friend screamed, “hey he is the one who likes your eyes…” One of the most winsome smiles, I have ever seen, lit that face.
I never interacted with him a lot, but he was someone, who was always talked about. Somewhere I lost track of him. But I kept bumping into him as Pune is a very small place.
Then probably after about 2-3 years, I was at ‘Scream’ and someone comes and pats my back. I turned around and saw him. The café had closed down, and life was kicking us to grow up, studies had got serious, and then to see him after such a long time was such a good feeling inside. And not to mention, that ‘winsome’ smile was still very much there. We came aside and spoke. It was the first time I spoke to him about his life.
He is an Arab, one out of 7-8 siblings. He has decided to stay in India. The last I heard of him, he wasn’t fending for himself, so his dad I believe was funding him. He had even picked up some marathi. Of course I couldn’t understand his English let alone marathi. But some how, the watchmans and the pan-walas could. He would watch all crazy Bollywood movies. Maybe he had turned more Indian than any other pure blooded Indian.
He was in love with this Indian girl. Crazy about her. But both knew it wasn’t headed any where. It was too much for a Marathi Brahmin to accept a Muslim son-in-law, and that too not an India. It was a lost battle even before it could have started. He tried too many ways to get out of it. He put his winsome smile to use, and won a lot of dates and one night stands, and all the jazz, but of no use. I particularly remember this woman who SMSed him, “you are the Lord Krishna of my life”. Poor guy.
And the girl, she was one hell of a temperamental woman. She wasn’t moving on, and wasn’t letting him move on too. Her folks fixed her up with someone, and she agreed. But still wouldn’t let him go.
Finally, he went for her wedding, saw her marrying someone else. And in his own words, “Deepa, I danced the most that night. I saw her married off. You win some, you lose some. And I have moved on.” That smile again.
It was something that shook me up. Coz I had known their story since the café days, and I had heard they indeed were a pair. After such a long relationship, I am sure it wasn’t easy for him. Till that day, he was just a strange and funny character I knew, but after I met him this time, I had immense respect for the way he went about it and gracefully accepted the reality. It takes some courage to attend the wedding of someone you really love like that, and usher her into a new life, with someone else. Every time I thought of him after that, all I could remember was his line, “I danced the most at her wedding”.
After that, I lost him in time again. A year later, I found him in Barista sitting with some cool babe. Believe me I was so happy that he was with someone. Ofcourse he was a charmer and he couldn’t have stayed single for long anyways. I walked up to him. He was sporting that killing smile of his. “So, is she your girlfriend?” I asked.
“Hey you have never met her right? She is Aarti. Her bloody husband is not in town, so I am officiating…” And that winsome smile again!
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