A story from a few days ago. My cousin and her family had come over for the holidays and my snow white Maltese had just given birth to beautiful puppies and my nieces were very happy to welcome them into our family. But our parents said that they would not allow any more dogs in our home and with a heavy heart, we decided to give them away.
As we had bought our Maltese at a pet store, I only felt it fair to sell the puppies instead of giving them away for free. Also, I felt that this way I can ensure that the puppies go to a place where they'll be valued, where they would be cared for. So I started making arrangements for the sale.
I painted a nice sign board advertising my puppies and my kid-niece tried painting one of them onto it. I was nailing the board to a post in my garden when I felt a slight tug at my pants. I thought perhaps one of the puppies had managed to wiggle past the crack in their kennel door and turned to pick it up and take it back inside. Only to find a small boy with big eyes and a pleading smile looking up at me.
"Uncle," he said, "I want to have one of your puppies. (a longish) Please!!"
"Well bachu," I told him, "I am sorry but I am not giving away the puppies for free. If you want a puppy, you'll have to buy one!"
This took away a part of the smile. He dug into his pockets, apparently searching for corners hitherto unexplored, expecting some cash to appear there miraculously. After a good couple of minutes of scouring, he extracted some coins and held them out to me, "I have 7 rupees with me right now. Is that good enough?"
Although I personally would have preferred receiving a much bigger multiple of that amount, I did not want to break his little heart so I agreed. His smile returned, a small curve of his lips at first, then blossoming into a huge grin when I called out my dog and her puppies so that the boy could select his pet. He let out a squeal of joy when the four little fur-balls scampered up to him and started playing at his feet. His eyes danced with delight and it seemed he was having a tough time making up his mind on selecting one of them.
Just then, a fifth fur-ball appeared at the door of the kennel, and peeped out with its little bright eyes. It gave a shrill yelp and hobbled down to where its other brothers and sisters were playing. It was smaller than the others and had a slight limp due to which it couldn't walk well. Still it did the best it could and tried catching up with the rest.
"I want that one!" said the little boy pointing to the new entrant.
"But my dear, it is not like the other puppies," I told him. "Beautiful and cute it is no doubt, but he may not grow up to become a strong dog that can run and play with you like the others here," I said pointing to the other four who were now busy with some game of their own.
The boy ran to the small pup to pick it up. It was then that I noticed that he had a deformed left leg, and wasn't able to walk properly. Limping back to me snuggling the pup in his hands, he said, "As you can see uncle, I cannot run very well either. And when my friend here grows up, I'll be there for him so that he knows that it's not bad to be different from others. And at times when I feel bad about myself, he'll be there to teach me the same lesson. Thank you!" saying this he handed me the seven rupees and began limping away.
As I watched the twosome walk away happily, I couldn't help imagining just how many of us are searching for someone like ourselves, someone who can understand and accept us the way we are.
Showing posts with label stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stories. Show all posts
Monday, February 23, 2009
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Part of the ocean
This is an excerpt from 'Tuesdays with Morrie', by Mitch Albom. It's a book that I would recommend to all readers - a bit on the philosophical side, but not lecturesque; in fact it is a wonderful account of a brave man's fight against a dreaded disease. This is one story that really touched my heart, and hence it is reproduced here.
I heard a nice little story the other day," Morrie says. He closes his eyes for a moment and I wait.
I heard a nice little story the other day," Morrie says. He closes his eyes for a moment and I wait.
"Okay. The story is about a little wave, bobbing along in the ocean, having a grand old time. He's enjoying the wind and the fresh air - until he notices the other waves in front of him, crashing against the shore.
' "My God, this is terrible," the wave says. "Look what's going to happen to me!"
"Then along comes another wave. It sees the first wave, looking grim, and it says to him, "Why do you look so sad?"
"The first wave says, "You don't understand We're all going to crash! All of us waves are going to be nothing! Isn't it terrible?"
"The second wave says, "No, you don't understand. You're not a wave, you're part of the ocean." '
I smile. Morrie closes his eyes again.
"Part of the ocean," he says, "part of the ocean." I watch him breathe, in and out, in and out.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Ji Bilkul
"Chalo beta aaj ladki dekhne jaana hai! Tayaar ho jaao!"
As I had earlier mentioned on this blog, going home has become quite rare for me these days, and as a result I find myself facing huge backlogs when it comes to being up to date with familial matters. I came to know last week that one of my distant cousins, who happens to be almost the same age as me, was getting engaged to his childhood sweetheart the day before. 'What's the hurry yaar', I asked him as I called him up as soon as I reached home that day, 'Why do you want to spoil something that's going well for you!' The problem with all my cousins, elders included, is that they fail to appreciate my deep and well found insights into intriguing matters of human concern; my remarks are routinely taken jokingly at face value, and when I reiterate that I am serious, I inadvertently manage to cause some eyebrows to be raised. No wonder that my cousin chided me for this ground breaking suggestion of mine and said 'Bachhu, tujhe jab kisi se pyaar hoga tab tu samjhega! Teri shaadi ka time ab dur nahi hai! Tu bhi koi dhund le.'
I am sure he was joking about that 'teri shaadi' part, and more so, the 'dhund le' remark. I am confident that I will never be able to find the right life partner for myself, and hence I have never even tried to. But that brilliant sally my cousin used against me struck some hitherto hidden cord in my parents' minds, and I found myself hearing these lines yesterday -
"Beta, ab tumhari shaadi ke baare mein bhi sochna chahiye. Ye bache bhi kitni jaldi badhe ho jaate hain! Tumhare liye ek achaa rishta aaya hai, kal ladki waalon ke ghar jaana hai. Chalo tayaari mein lag jaao tum!"
I don't normally swear these days, and never would even dream of doing it in the presence of my parents. But this sudden shock managed to squeeze out a 'WTF' from my mouth, causing some more eyebrows to be raised. 'I have not even graduated from college yet!' was all that I managed to utter. What I really wanted to tell them was that I am in no mood to marry so early,that I haven't even met the right girl yet, that I won't marry before I settle down nicely into my consulting job, that I don't want an arranged marriage etc. But the best that I could come up with was that I haven't even graduated yet.
"Koi jaldi nahi hai, wo ladki bhi abhi student hai. Agar ab baat ban jaaye to tum donon aaram se apne man se shaadi kar lo. Koi jaldi nahi hai. Agle saal bhi chalega. Tab tak baaki tayari kar lenge hum," they replied.
Still a student! I was sure the poor girl would have no idea of the kind of activities our families were involved in. I then told my parents some of the points I just mentioned above in an attempt to make them see sense but to no avail. It seemed as if my cousin had just opened the floodgates for female bio-datas and horoscopes to rush into my (barren?) life.
After further attempts at trying to avoid the inevitable, I found myself getting ready for the 'ladki dekhne jaana hai' ceremony. I was told to wear the 'naya shirt liya tha na tumne abhi placements ke liye' and was forced to get a neat haircut and a decent shave. To tell you frankly, I hadn't personally cared as much for my appearance for my campus placements. But then I thought perhaps this ladki dekhna is some highly sacred ritual in the eyes of my family (and her too) so I went ahead with it just to make them happy. After an hour of enduring a painful and bumpy auto ride in a typical sweltering Mumbai-Sunday-afternoon, and another half of asking for directions we finally reached the 'ladki waalon ka ghar'.
A knock knock later I found myself facing this huge towering Aunty dressed in what looked an expensive, but sadly overdone saree and overloaded with (fake?) gold jewelery. 'Arey aaiye aaiye, hum aapki hi raah dekh rahe the. Ghar dhundne mein taklif to nahi hui na?' she demanded. Now the kind of guy that I am, who can just manage a 'but I haven't graduated yet' in front of my own parents, to no one's surprise, managed a humble 'bilkul nahi' in the all encompassing presence (laterally) of this Aunty. I could not even imagine how I could later call her 'Mummy' or 'Aai' or whatever name she was addressed by her daughter.
After a couple of minutes of was-and-whens and how-do-you-dos, we were served overly sweet tea and super oily samosas. The sight of this fat-saturated-meal gave me that 'Aha!' moment - the sort I get when I make such discoveries of the causes of some phenomena that I notice in nature (I didn't know what one calls such moments until Sagar pointed out this term to me yesterday; he tells me that there is a well defined term for this, but he doesn't remember the name now and chooses to call them 'Aha!' moments - well, this name works just fine for me). Anyway, getting back to the point, I partook of the diabetic tea and was nibbling at the 'samosa' (notice the quotes. They are there for a purpose) and then entered the 'girl' (No purpose here though). I am no good judge of girls, but from what I've seen and known, I could tell that she is a very good girl, beautiful, smart and with a good nature. Trust your parents on these issues. 'Hmm, not bad. Perhaps I should think of saying yes. I can then fearlessly date this damsel for a couple of years, all the while knowing that she shall be mine finally.'
My dreams were turning out to be just right when came in, umm, (to be kind) let me say an 'extended miniature version of the aforementioned Aunty'. This new entrant and the Aunty comfortably settled in into a couch (that I feel could have easily seated 4 my size). After the usual 'Aur beta tum kya kar rahe ho aaj kal?' and 'Bahut acha ladka hai humara', the Aunty said this - 'To aapko humaari Bindya pasand aayi?' with a huge grin that to me felt like a threatening smirk that screamed out - 'You better say yes or else...'
Wait! Bindya? I thought you introduced that damsel as Sapna. I was about to raise this basic doubt when I saw the new entrant blushing and smiling and shifting around in her place (took mighty efforts, that shifting I tell you - I pity the poor couch). Oh My God! This is Bindya?! I looked towards my parents. They looked equally shocked to me. My mom was almost telling me 'Ye kaise hua? Hume bhi nahi pata!' with her eyes. It so was that Bindya was the elder daughter, and the Aunty was hoping to dump her on my shoulders - she literally looked a burden to me. But thankfully my parents stood their ground and for once supported me in what looked like a lost cause to me. The Aunty was disappointed it didn't work out. I noticed that Sapna never even chose to throw a passing glance towards me in the midst of all this debate. And so too Bindya. 'Must have overdone my dressing style', I thought.
In the end, it turned out that the only person genuinely interested in me was the Aunty. I wouldn't have been surprised had she tried to elope with me in the same auto that we took to come there. 'Chinta mat karo beta' my Mom said as we were leaving, 'Aur bhi ache rishte aayenge.' 'Haan beta chinta mat karo, hum hai na', added my Dad. 'Oh please don't. Let me live my life. (Though I don't mind coming back here for Sapna). Next time let me handle this business, and please for heaven's sake don't choose a family obsessed with cooking oil and sugar!' - my mind was screaming out. But sadly, the only thing that I could tell them aloud was -
"Ji bilkul."
As I had earlier mentioned on this blog, going home has become quite rare for me these days, and as a result I find myself facing huge backlogs when it comes to being up to date with familial matters. I came to know last week that one of my distant cousins, who happens to be almost the same age as me, was getting engaged to his childhood sweetheart the day before. 'What's the hurry yaar', I asked him as I called him up as soon as I reached home that day, 'Why do you want to spoil something that's going well for you!' The problem with all my cousins, elders included, is that they fail to appreciate my deep and well found insights into intriguing matters of human concern; my remarks are routinely taken jokingly at face value, and when I reiterate that I am serious, I inadvertently manage to cause some eyebrows to be raised. No wonder that my cousin chided me for this ground breaking suggestion of mine and said 'Bachhu, tujhe jab kisi se pyaar hoga tab tu samjhega! Teri shaadi ka time ab dur nahi hai! Tu bhi koi dhund le.'
I am sure he was joking about that 'teri shaadi' part, and more so, the 'dhund le' remark. I am confident that I will never be able to find the right life partner for myself, and hence I have never even tried to. But that brilliant sally my cousin used against me struck some hitherto hidden cord in my parents' minds, and I found myself hearing these lines yesterday -
"Beta, ab tumhari shaadi ke baare mein bhi sochna chahiye. Ye bache bhi kitni jaldi badhe ho jaate hain! Tumhare liye ek achaa rishta aaya hai, kal ladki waalon ke ghar jaana hai. Chalo tayaari mein lag jaao tum!"
I don't normally swear these days, and never would even dream of doing it in the presence of my parents. But this sudden shock managed to squeeze out a 'WTF' from my mouth, causing some more eyebrows to be raised. 'I have not even graduated from college yet!' was all that I managed to utter. What I really wanted to tell them was that I am in no mood to marry so early,that I haven't even met the right girl yet, that I won't marry before I settle down nicely into my consulting job, that I don't want an arranged marriage etc. But the best that I could come up with was that I haven't even graduated yet.
"Koi jaldi nahi hai, wo ladki bhi abhi student hai. Agar ab baat ban jaaye to tum donon aaram se apne man se shaadi kar lo. Koi jaldi nahi hai. Agle saal bhi chalega. Tab tak baaki tayari kar lenge hum," they replied.
Still a student! I was sure the poor girl would have no idea of the kind of activities our families were involved in. I then told my parents some of the points I just mentioned above in an attempt to make them see sense but to no avail. It seemed as if my cousin had just opened the floodgates for female bio-datas and horoscopes to rush into my (barren?) life.
After further attempts at trying to avoid the inevitable, I found myself getting ready for the 'ladki dekhne jaana hai' ceremony. I was told to wear the 'naya shirt liya tha na tumne abhi placements ke liye' and was forced to get a neat haircut and a decent shave. To tell you frankly, I hadn't personally cared as much for my appearance for my campus placements. But then I thought perhaps this ladki dekhna is some highly sacred ritual in the eyes of my family (and her too) so I went ahead with it just to make them happy. After an hour of enduring a painful and bumpy auto ride in a typical sweltering Mumbai-Sunday-afternoon, and another half of asking for directions we finally reached the 'ladki waalon ka ghar'.
A knock knock later I found myself facing this huge towering Aunty dressed in what looked an expensive, but sadly overdone saree and overloaded with (fake?) gold jewelery. 'Arey aaiye aaiye, hum aapki hi raah dekh rahe the. Ghar dhundne mein taklif to nahi hui na?' she demanded. Now the kind of guy that I am, who can just manage a 'but I haven't graduated yet' in front of my own parents, to no one's surprise, managed a humble 'bilkul nahi' in the all encompassing presence (laterally) of this Aunty. I could not even imagine how I could later call her 'Mummy' or 'Aai' or whatever name she was addressed by her daughter.
After a couple of minutes of was-and-whens and how-do-you-dos, we were served overly sweet tea and super oily samosas. The sight of this fat-saturated-meal gave me that 'Aha!' moment - the sort I get when I make such discoveries of the causes of some phenomena that I notice in nature (I didn't know what one calls such moments until Sagar pointed out this term to me yesterday; he tells me that there is a well defined term for this, but he doesn't remember the name now and chooses to call them 'Aha!' moments - well, this name works just fine for me). Anyway, getting back to the point, I partook of the diabetic tea and was nibbling at the 'samosa' (notice the quotes. They are there for a purpose) and then entered the 'girl' (No purpose here though). I am no good judge of girls, but from what I've seen and known, I could tell that she is a very good girl, beautiful, smart and with a good nature. Trust your parents on these issues. 'Hmm, not bad. Perhaps I should think of saying yes. I can then fearlessly date this damsel for a couple of years, all the while knowing that she shall be mine finally.'
My dreams were turning out to be just right when came in, umm, (to be kind) let me say an 'extended miniature version of the aforementioned Aunty'. This new entrant and the Aunty comfortably settled in into a couch (that I feel could have easily seated 4 my size). After the usual 'Aur beta tum kya kar rahe ho aaj kal?' and 'Bahut acha ladka hai humara', the Aunty said this - 'To aapko humaari Bindya pasand aayi?' with a huge grin that to me felt like a threatening smirk that screamed out - 'You better say yes or else...'
Wait! Bindya? I thought you introduced that damsel as Sapna. I was about to raise this basic doubt when I saw the new entrant blushing and smiling and shifting around in her place (took mighty efforts, that shifting I tell you - I pity the poor couch). Oh My God! This is Bindya?! I looked towards my parents. They looked equally shocked to me. My mom was almost telling me 'Ye kaise hua? Hume bhi nahi pata!' with her eyes. It so was that Bindya was the elder daughter, and the Aunty was hoping to dump her on my shoulders - she literally looked a burden to me. But thankfully my parents stood their ground and for once supported me in what looked like a lost cause to me. The Aunty was disappointed it didn't work out. I noticed that Sapna never even chose to throw a passing glance towards me in the midst of all this debate. And so too Bindya. 'Must have overdone my dressing style', I thought.
In the end, it turned out that the only person genuinely interested in me was the Aunty. I wouldn't have been surprised had she tried to elope with me in the same auto that we took to come there. 'Chinta mat karo beta' my Mom said as we were leaving, 'Aur bhi ache rishte aayenge.' 'Haan beta chinta mat karo, hum hai na', added my Dad. 'Oh please don't. Let me live my life. (Though I don't mind coming back here for Sapna). Next time let me handle this business, and please for heaven's sake don't choose a family obsessed with cooking oil and sugar!' - my mind was screaming out. But sadly, the only thing that I could tell them aloud was -
"Ji bilkul."
Friday, February 29, 2008
Had an affair once you know
(This again from my old blog. Happens to be my favourite piece among all those that I have written)
Ever since V-day, there has been much talk and speculation among my batchmates as to whether I have a girlfriend or not. So much so has been the debate, that I felt I should tell them all about an affair I once had (something for them to cheer about :D). And what better place to disclose the truth than this blog of mine... Well here goes...
Just a word of caution though - if you begin reading this post from the next line onwards, better read it till the end to avoid misunderstanding later :P. Whatever has been mentioned here is true to the best of my knowledge and belief :D
It was way back in my first year at IIT. Was a noob out here back then, confused (still am to some extent) and awestruck by this wonderful place. Never had the pleasure of having someone special in my life till then. It was sometime back then, on some cursed day that year, that I came to know of this wonderful creation of the Creator. The whole bunch of first yearites were praising her amazing looks and divine features. I must mention here that I wasn't the type of kid who cared about all this; but I thought 'What the heck! Let me check her out at least.... sure that won't hurt'. And that happened to be a huge mistake. I was spellbound by her beauty, her charm... Could never take my eyes off her. Spent many sleepless nights thinking about her, imagining what wonderful things we could do...
And so I took the chance. I approached her as a good seedha-saadha boy, and let out my feelings. Fortunately or unfortunately, she was amused and gave me the green signal. So foolish I was back then, that I was thrilled and glad to have this special someone in my life. We spent many wonderful days in each other's company. It was such a joy being with her; I gave up other good things in my life just to be with her always. We secretly used to meet at the Computer Center at IIT (CC as it was popularly known, still stands as a monument symbolising this love story I once had), sometimes late at night, on pretext of a C++ course project we had back then. (Left all the coding for the project to my groupmates, all for the rendezvous with my love). Even she didn't mind this and always would be there waiting for me. I now feel that I should have worked more on that project back then; at least would be somewhat conversant with C++ now if I had done that. But no use crying over spilt milk - I chose to be with her and that was it.
Our's wasn't a visit-smile-talk-leave relationship; was much more intimate than that. Everytime I entered her, I would find a whole new universe waiting for me inside her - to explore and appreciate. I was so blinded by her beauty that I never realised how she was using me to grow her network of acquaintances. When I was quite seriously involved in this relationship did I come to know of her other side. She was a hooker - trapping poor kids like me in her web of lust and using us all to get to know more people. The bitch was aware that we knew; but still continued with such activities. I was shattered - to see someone I so loved destroying so many lives. I immediately broke up with her, and warned all the others I knew about to do so too. But lo! many of them were so misled by her charming features - they never came out of it. Some poor souls I know still are involved with her, and are wasting their lives so.
So this was it - a failed relationship with a bitch who still hasn't improved. Now-a-days her activities have gathered much momentum, and I hear that many people are ever being attracted to her. Oh what a waste of life! would have been so good for me had she never entered my life at all... I have not lied a bit about the relation we once had. The truth is laid bare before you. You may choose to judge me on the basis of all this if you choose to; I can't stop you from doing that. But before I sign off, let me tell you her name; so that at least you may keep away from her. This bitch happens to be someone you all might know as Orkut.com.
Ever since V-day, there has been much talk and speculation among my batchmates as to whether I have a girlfriend or not. So much so has been the debate, that I felt I should tell them all about an affair I once had (something for them to cheer about :D). And what better place to disclose the truth than this blog of mine... Well here goes...
Just a word of caution though - if you begin reading this post from the next line onwards, better read it till the end to avoid misunderstanding later :P. Whatever has been mentioned here is true to the best of my knowledge and belief :D
It was way back in my first year at IIT. Was a noob out here back then, confused (still am to some extent) and awestruck by this wonderful place. Never had the pleasure of having someone special in my life till then. It was sometime back then, on some cursed day that year, that I came to know of this wonderful creation of the Creator. The whole bunch of first yearites were praising her amazing looks and divine features. I must mention here that I wasn't the type of kid who cared about all this; but I thought 'What the heck! Let me check her out at least.... sure that won't hurt'. And that happened to be a huge mistake. I was spellbound by her beauty, her charm... Could never take my eyes off her. Spent many sleepless nights thinking about her, imagining what wonderful things we could do...
And so I took the chance. I approached her as a good seedha-saadha boy, and let out my feelings. Fortunately or unfortunately, she was amused and gave me the green signal. So foolish I was back then, that I was thrilled and glad to have this special someone in my life. We spent many wonderful days in each other's company. It was such a joy being with her; I gave up other good things in my life just to be with her always. We secretly used to meet at the Computer Center at IIT (CC as it was popularly known, still stands as a monument symbolising this love story I once had), sometimes late at night, on pretext of a C++ course project we had back then. (Left all the coding for the project to my groupmates, all for the rendezvous with my love). Even she didn't mind this and always would be there waiting for me. I now feel that I should have worked more on that project back then; at least would be somewhat conversant with C++ now if I had done that. But no use crying over spilt milk - I chose to be with her and that was it.
Our's wasn't a visit-smile-talk-leave relationship; was much more intimate than that. Everytime I entered her, I would find a whole new universe waiting for me inside her - to explore and appreciate. I was so blinded by her beauty that I never realised how she was using me to grow her network of acquaintances. When I was quite seriously involved in this relationship did I come to know of her other side. She was a hooker - trapping poor kids like me in her web of lust and using us all to get to know more people. The bitch was aware that we knew; but still continued with such activities. I was shattered - to see someone I so loved destroying so many lives. I immediately broke up with her, and warned all the others I knew about to do so too. But lo! many of them were so misled by her charming features - they never came out of it. Some poor souls I know still are involved with her, and are wasting their lives so.
So this was it - a failed relationship with a bitch who still hasn't improved. Now-a-days her activities have gathered much momentum, and I hear that many people are ever being attracted to her. Oh what a waste of life! would have been so good for me had she never entered my life at all... I have not lied a bit about the relation we once had. The truth is laid bare before you. You may choose to judge me on the basis of all this if you choose to; I can't stop you from doing that. But before I sign off, let me tell you her name; so that at least you may keep away from her. This bitch happens to be someone you all might know as Orkut.com.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Confusion galore
It's that time in my life when I reminisce about my life here at IIT, and keep boring my friends by always telling them how much I am going to miss them and this place. When each treat ends with me becoming senti and saying that no matter where I go or what I manage to achieve in life, now is the best time in my life ever. What's sad though, is that I feel I don't have many 'interesting' incidents and experiences to take away from here. Of course my life here has been quite interesting, but not the type with the apostrophes. However, there is one thing that not many know about.
It was the day I got my job here on campus - 3rd December. I had taken my friend out to PopTates for a Daaru treat (those were the days before I turned teetotaler). He insisted that I would be exhausted being interviewed the whole day, and we could perhaps do this some other time. However, I wanted him to be a part of my euphoria - a part of the day that I wished then would never end. And so we went to PopTates (after happy hours at my insistence, logic being that since I now have a job, I don't need to care about saving bucks on every damn thing - of course that phase is now behind me).
After a pitcher each and a couple of 60 ml pegs of rum and a tequilla shot (the customary signing off ritual), it was time for me to take a leak :) I claim(ed) I never (used to) get drunk, no matter how much I drink, but that day was another story. It is a wonder I even remember what I am about to tell you all here. The joy of getting my dream job and all the events that day had already lightened me up, and the alcohol only added to the ecstasy, leading me on to a state of pigheadedness hitherto unknown to me. Before telling you what happened next though, let me tell you what really bugs me about restrooms these days. I am really pissed off by the signs put up to indicate the restrooms. Not like the good old days when you had the old fashioned fool proof Gents and Ladies written outside (sometimes illuminated as well). Those guys should understand that when you are as drunk as I was, it becomes rather a tedious task on the part of our brains to make out the difference between the two drawings that we see on the doors these days. Why can't you have plain text signs indicating Gents and ladies as we earlier used to? Why all the fancy artforms? Anyway, coming back to my tale, I went into what I thought was the men's room.
Now that's odd, I thought. I do know that PopTates fancies itself in being an oddity, but this is insane - why do I see only stalls here? I wondered. Where are the urinals? This place almost looks like a girl's room! I was right about PopTates being the hangout zone for gays, I thought. Guys back at hostel need to see this; this just supports my theory. So I took out my cell (I was carrying a fancy one those placement days) and started clicking pics of what I felt was the funny loo. Then the door opened.
And in came this chick - wearing what I felt then and recall now as rags in different colours, with a whole lot of make up dumped on her face. The rags seemed to be the remnants of what would have once been a nice pair of a polo shirt and trousers, the kind I wear a lot. I was sure she wouldn't have come here with another guy, coz no guy in his right senses would want to be seen around with such a joker. She saw me with a cell in my hand taking pics and screamed. I wanted to go ahead and tell her, 'Hello behenji, even though I am sure you are gender confused, the men's room is not where you belong. Secondly, it is I who should be making a din out here seeing such a scary sight, and not you.' But before I could do that, she asked 'You loafer, you pervert - don't you feel ashamed sneaking into the girl's room this way? Security bulaaun kya? Get out!' The girl's room! I am indeed in the girl's room! So PopTates isn't gay; what's more, I have been caught inside a girl's room. And if that's not all, I have been seen taking pics with my cellphone here! (Why does it always have to be me?)
I had to think fast to save my butt here, and also to avoid embarrassment (Don't want such things to come up during my profile reading in our hostel valfi - IITianese for valedictory function). The thing I like about getting drunk is that my mind starts running faster and can come up with the most creative ideas that I cannot even imagine when I am sober. I figured out that this chick was pretty drunk and I could use this fact to my benefit. 'What do you mean get out, idiot? You enter the wrong restroom and then shout at me? The nerve of some people! Now get lost before I call in someone.' Perhaps she wasn't as drunk as I had imagined. She said, 'Wait I'll show you, you pervert,' and immediately started screaming out for help and called out loud for security. What the heck I thought; I don't want to be left behind and started screaming out equally loudly, all the while saying that there is a ghost in the loo.
After about a minute or so of screaming, a strong well built dude in an uniform labeled 'PopTates' turned up with a girl in a suit. They were shocked to see me with my cell phone and that ghost in rags in the same room. 'What is going on out here?' asked the suit. 'Well, you tell me what is going on,' said the ghost, 'What are such perverts allowed to do messing around out here? Is this what you call security?' Then she started screaming abuses, again that I cannot reproduce here, as I have now quit swearing as well :) The argument went on for a few minutes, with me and the dude also chipping in between often. Finally, the suit had enough of her, and said 'Madam I have to ask you to leave now.' 'Oh I should leave now should I? How much does this loafer pay you for all these perverted acts huh? You don't know who I am - I just have to make one phone call and this place will be closed down - shut. Do you get me? Leave my foot!' 'Okay that's it, Raghu please take this lady outside.' 'Don't you dare touch me! You are not allowed to touch me!' 'Oh the hell he is, Raghu baahar le jaao inko'.
After Raghu was done pulling that cartoon, who was not yet done bitching, outside the restroom, I turned to the suit and said, 'Thank you.' 'Please don't mention it sir, I am sorry for all the trouble you have had to face. It shall not be repeated I assure you. Have a good time.' As she was leaving, I asked 'Hey are you not going to do anything about the fact that I wrongly entered the girl's room? I am sorry I was too drunk to notice actually.' She laughed out loud, 'Oh no sir, this isn't the girl's room. What made you think that it was?' 'Well, I don't see the urinals here, so I sort of figured out that this should be it.' She again gave me a smile and said, 'Well, that's because it's under renovation; we had those removed last week and the new ones are not here yet! We have put up a notice outside apologizing for the inconvenience.' 'Oh I never noticed it!' 'Well, it happens. Sometimes our customers are too drunk to notice it. Good thing we use the symbols on the doors though. They never fail us! Imagine the confusion we would have if we stuck to the old Gents and Ladies signs!'
:|
It was the day I got my job here on campus - 3rd December. I had taken my friend out to PopTates for a Daaru treat (those were the days before I turned teetotaler). He insisted that I would be exhausted being interviewed the whole day, and we could perhaps do this some other time. However, I wanted him to be a part of my euphoria - a part of the day that I wished then would never end. And so we went to PopTates (after happy hours at my insistence, logic being that since I now have a job, I don't need to care about saving bucks on every damn thing - of course that phase is now behind me).
After a pitcher each and a couple of 60 ml pegs of rum and a tequilla shot (the customary signing off ritual), it was time for me to take a leak :) I claim(ed) I never (used to) get drunk, no matter how much I drink, but that day was another story. It is a wonder I even remember what I am about to tell you all here. The joy of getting my dream job and all the events that day had already lightened me up, and the alcohol only added to the ecstasy, leading me on to a state of pigheadedness hitherto unknown to me. Before telling you what happened next though, let me tell you what really bugs me about restrooms these days. I am really pissed off by the signs put up to indicate the restrooms. Not like the good old days when you had the old fashioned fool proof Gents and Ladies written outside (sometimes illuminated as well). Those guys should understand that when you are as drunk as I was, it becomes rather a tedious task on the part of our brains to make out the difference between the two drawings that we see on the doors these days. Why can't you have plain text signs indicating Gents and ladies as we earlier used to? Why all the fancy artforms? Anyway, coming back to my tale, I went into what I thought was the men's room.
Now that's odd, I thought. I do know that PopTates fancies itself in being an oddity, but this is insane - why do I see only stalls here? I wondered. Where are the urinals? This place almost looks like a girl's room! I was right about PopTates being the hangout zone for gays, I thought. Guys back at hostel need to see this; this just supports my theory. So I took out my cell (I was carrying a fancy one those placement days) and started clicking pics of what I felt was the funny loo. Then the door opened.
And in came this chick - wearing what I felt then and recall now as rags in different colours, with a whole lot of make up dumped on her face. The rags seemed to be the remnants of what would have once been a nice pair of a polo shirt and trousers, the kind I wear a lot. I was sure she wouldn't have come here with another guy, coz no guy in his right senses would want to be seen around with such a joker. She saw me with a cell in my hand taking pics and screamed. I wanted to go ahead and tell her, 'Hello behenji, even though I am sure you are gender confused, the men's room is not where you belong. Secondly, it is I who should be making a din out here seeing such a scary sight, and not you.' But before I could do that, she asked 'You loafer, you pervert - don't you feel ashamed sneaking into the girl's room this way? Security bulaaun kya? Get out!' The girl's room! I am indeed in the girl's room! So PopTates isn't gay; what's more, I have been caught inside a girl's room. And if that's not all, I have been seen taking pics with my cellphone here! (Why does it always have to be me?)
I had to think fast to save my butt here, and also to avoid embarrassment (Don't want such things to come up during my profile reading in our hostel valfi - IITianese for valedictory function). The thing I like about getting drunk is that my mind starts running faster and can come up with the most creative ideas that I cannot even imagine when I am sober. I figured out that this chick was pretty drunk and I could use this fact to my benefit. 'What do you mean get out, idiot? You enter the wrong restroom and then shout at me? The nerve of some people! Now get lost before I call in someone.' Perhaps she wasn't as drunk as I had imagined. She said, 'Wait I'll show you, you pervert,' and immediately started screaming out for help and called out loud for security. What the heck I thought; I don't want to be left behind and started screaming out equally loudly, all the while saying that there is a ghost in the loo.
After about a minute or so of screaming, a strong well built dude in an uniform labeled 'PopTates' turned up with a girl in a suit. They were shocked to see me with my cell phone and that ghost in rags in the same room. 'What is going on out here?' asked the suit. 'Well, you tell me what is going on,' said the ghost, 'What are such perverts allowed to do messing around out here? Is this what you call security?' Then she started screaming abuses, again that I cannot reproduce here, as I have now quit swearing as well :) The argument went on for a few minutes, with me and the dude also chipping in between often. Finally, the suit had enough of her, and said 'Madam I have to ask you to leave now.' 'Oh I should leave now should I? How much does this loafer pay you for all these perverted acts huh? You don't know who I am - I just have to make one phone call and this place will be closed down - shut. Do you get me? Leave my foot!' 'Okay that's it, Raghu please take this lady outside.' 'Don't you dare touch me! You are not allowed to touch me!' 'Oh the hell he is, Raghu baahar le jaao inko'.
After Raghu was done pulling that cartoon, who was not yet done bitching, outside the restroom, I turned to the suit and said, 'Thank you.' 'Please don't mention it sir, I am sorry for all the trouble you have had to face. It shall not be repeated I assure you. Have a good time.' As she was leaving, I asked 'Hey are you not going to do anything about the fact that I wrongly entered the girl's room? I am sorry I was too drunk to notice actually.' She laughed out loud, 'Oh no sir, this isn't the girl's room. What made you think that it was?' 'Well, I don't see the urinals here, so I sort of figured out that this should be it.' She again gave me a smile and said, 'Well, that's because it's under renovation; we had those removed last week and the new ones are not here yet! We have put up a notice outside apologizing for the inconvenience.' 'Oh I never noticed it!' 'Well, it happens. Sometimes our customers are too drunk to notice it. Good thing we use the symbols on the doors though. They never fail us! Imagine the confusion we would have if we stuck to the old Gents and Ladies signs!'
:|
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
10:42 Churchgate Slow
This is one incident I remember from my good old Ruparel days (that is, my junior college days). I don't have many memories from that time - firstly because I wasted most of time in my JEE preparation, which I then considered more important than my social life, and secondly, because I hardly ever attended college, mainly due to the earlier reason. This incident that I am talking about was on one of those rare days when I broke both these rules.
10:42 Churchgate slow. The ever so faithful local that came directly to Borivli from Andheri, literally vacant (it reached Borivli skipping stops at Jogeshwari, Goregaon, Malad and Kandivli - hence the absence of the return journey travelers. Thing is, a fast train bound for Borivli from Churchgate doesn't halt at these stations. I always preferred taking this train whenever I chose to go to college. As I do now, I hated crowds then too. Nothing more disgusting than traveling in a crowded second class compartment during the early morning office hours I would say. I have always chosen to travel second class. College students do get discounts on first class season tickets for trains here in Mumbai, but I never chose that option. There is something about Mumbai's local trains - mainly the second class compartments, that makes them so very dear to me. The very essence of Mumbai's life can be seen in all its glory here. Nothing more satisfying than traveling during the early morning hours in a second class compartment (albeit not so crowded).
So as I was saying it was this one fateful day, that a slow train for Borivli was converted to the 10:42 Chuchgate slow. Which meant the train was full - packed to the last seat, with hardly any space within for a 'healthy' person like me to sneak into. Besides, skipping this train meant getting late for college - and when you turn up for classes just once a month or so, you don't want to be late. So I was sort of left with limited options. I barged in with the rest of the crowd.
As luck would have it, I got a place to stand exactly where a fan had died a recent death, and was yet to be repaired. Ah, what a perfect day I thought. Could it get any better? Just then a man, roughly in his late thirties, wearing a soiled smelling shirt stepped in and stood beside me. His unkempt hair was smeared with what smelled like kerosene, and due to the fan's death, this guy was standing sweating profusely beside me. Ah, it just got better!
Some 4 minutes after schedule, our train finally decided to proceed with its journey. The gentleman mentioned earlier was enjoying his train ride, happily humming some old hindi song tune and rocking gently with the train's motion, much to my chagrin. After some 3 stops or something it happened. I never saw him coming. Besides, I wasn't expecting him in such a crowded train. It wasn't even the first week of the month, nor the last. What on earth then is he doing here?
'Ticket please', he said, approaching me after checking the tickets of the other passengers. Thing is, I always kept my pass in my compass box, which I used to keep safely beside my water bottle in the innermost compartment of my backpack (Yes, those were the days when I was supercautious, much the opposite of what I am now after 4 years at IIT). Nothing more embarrassing than opening up one's backpack just for taking out a pass - could you look more stupid? Anyway, I had to, now that this ticket checker chap was standing nearby. So I went ahead with my routine - opened my bag, shifted my books, took out the calculator, opened the zip, took out the water bottle, and finally took out my pencil box. The TC was standing there, smirking at how stupid I was acting.
Until now, I was thinking my day couldn't have got any better. But now it just turned perfect. I took out my pass only to see that it had expired a week earlier! Aargh! At least I should've checked it even though I don't use it daily. Wow! A hell of a day, only to be made worse by shelling out a good 300 bucks in fine. I was thinking if there are any other worse ways to spend 300 bucks (btw, I just watched Jodha Akbar the other day in PVR cinemas, and now I am convinced that there is one way at least). How can I avoid this? What should i do?
'Oye baba, ticket please' groaned the TC. He was having a torrid time too in this crowd. Not to show that I was guilty, I confidently handed him my expired pass, even managed to pass him a polite, innocent smile. 'O mister, this pass has expired a week ago. Come on now, take out Rs. 300. You will have to pay the fine', he said and showed it to me. There was a commanding look in his eyes, and a strictness in his voice. Somewhere on his face though I spotted a smile, anticipating a quick 300 bucks. Ah the devil! Why should I pay 300 bucks when I travel only about 20 days or so to college each year, yet buy a second class quarterly pass thrice a year faithfully? I had to think fast.
There are times in life when things you learnt in your childhood strike you. Sometimes, you feel these are silly. But when you really need them, such things can be blessings in disguise. 'Ignorance is bliss' - somehow this thought came to my mind. Ah, an idea! How brilliant of me! I made a mental note to pat myself on my back as soon as I got down from this wretched train! For the time being, I have 300 bucks to save.
'Pardon me', I said, 'What do you mean 'expire'? This is ticket for train - not a medicine that will expire' I said, and all people around me burst out laughing, even that smelly dude who was standing beside me (lucky bastard got a seat somewhere along the journey!) The TC was not amused. He gave me a cold look and said, 'Okay smart guy. Enough of your jokes. Now pay the fine.' This drama went on for a few more minutes. Now I was getting well into the groove. I was arguing with the TC, showed him that the ticket was mine, showed him my name, the destination station name etc. (everything except the date) Then the TC showed me the date, and I tried my best at looking confused. I managed a frightened, innocent look, and quietly asked the TC, 'Now what should I do uncle? I didn't know it works like this.' I am not sure now, but I think I also managed to squeeze out a tear or two as well.
Now the TC looked confused. Perhaps my acting looked so genuine that he was convinced that I wasn't lying. He said that I'll have to buy another pass. Said it's called 'renewal' of the pass, and I should check the expiry date each time and make sure to buy a renewal when the date is nearing. I thanked him a lot, said I'll never repeat this mistake again. He smiled, then asked me - 'New to Mumbai?' Of course yes! I would be a fool to say no now. Guess what, I told him that ever since I've come here, I have not met as helpful a person as him - explaining everything about tickets to a poor village fellow like me. In the village in Bihar from where I come, people are not this helpful. 'But how did you realise I wasn't from Mumbai?' I asked him just for the sake of asking. 'Well, the way you hid your pass told me that', he said like a wise old chap. I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not. But I was relieved that this stupid habit came to some use at least.
'Tickets please', and he was moving ahead. 'Uncle, what about the fine?' I asked again innocently. 'Never mind', he said, 'In Mumbai, we welcome Bihari baabus as guests - I cannot accept fines from our guest. Namashkar'.
10:42 Churchgate slow. The ever so faithful local that came directly to Borivli from Andheri, literally vacant (it reached Borivli skipping stops at Jogeshwari, Goregaon, Malad and Kandivli - hence the absence of the return journey travelers. Thing is, a fast train bound for Borivli from Churchgate doesn't halt at these stations. I always preferred taking this train whenever I chose to go to college. As I do now, I hated crowds then too. Nothing more disgusting than traveling in a crowded second class compartment during the early morning office hours I would say. I have always chosen to travel second class. College students do get discounts on first class season tickets for trains here in Mumbai, but I never chose that option. There is something about Mumbai's local trains - mainly the second class compartments, that makes them so very dear to me. The very essence of Mumbai's life can be seen in all its glory here. Nothing more satisfying than traveling during the early morning hours in a second class compartment (albeit not so crowded).
So as I was saying it was this one fateful day, that a slow train for Borivli was converted to the 10:42 Chuchgate slow. Which meant the train was full - packed to the last seat, with hardly any space within for a 'healthy' person like me to sneak into. Besides, skipping this train meant getting late for college - and when you turn up for classes just once a month or so, you don't want to be late. So I was sort of left with limited options. I barged in with the rest of the crowd.
As luck would have it, I got a place to stand exactly where a fan had died a recent death, and was yet to be repaired. Ah, what a perfect day I thought. Could it get any better? Just then a man, roughly in his late thirties, wearing a soiled smelling shirt stepped in and stood beside me. His unkempt hair was smeared with what smelled like kerosene, and due to the fan's death, this guy was standing sweating profusely beside me. Ah, it just got better!
Some 4 minutes after schedule, our train finally decided to proceed with its journey. The gentleman mentioned earlier was enjoying his train ride, happily humming some old hindi song tune and rocking gently with the train's motion, much to my chagrin. After some 3 stops or something it happened. I never saw him coming. Besides, I wasn't expecting him in such a crowded train. It wasn't even the first week of the month, nor the last. What on earth then is he doing here?
'Ticket please', he said, approaching me after checking the tickets of the other passengers. Thing is, I always kept my pass in my compass box, which I used to keep safely beside my water bottle in the innermost compartment of my backpack (Yes, those were the days when I was supercautious, much the opposite of what I am now after 4 years at IIT). Nothing more embarrassing than opening up one's backpack just for taking out a pass - could you look more stupid? Anyway, I had to, now that this ticket checker chap was standing nearby. So I went ahead with my routine - opened my bag, shifted my books, took out the calculator, opened the zip, took out the water bottle, and finally took out my pencil box. The TC was standing there, smirking at how stupid I was acting.
Until now, I was thinking my day couldn't have got any better. But now it just turned perfect. I took out my pass only to see that it had expired a week earlier! Aargh! At least I should've checked it even though I don't use it daily. Wow! A hell of a day, only to be made worse by shelling out a good 300 bucks in fine. I was thinking if there are any other worse ways to spend 300 bucks (btw, I just watched Jodha Akbar the other day in PVR cinemas, and now I am convinced that there is one way at least). How can I avoid this? What should i do?
'Oye baba, ticket please' groaned the TC. He was having a torrid time too in this crowd. Not to show that I was guilty, I confidently handed him my expired pass, even managed to pass him a polite, innocent smile. 'O mister, this pass has expired a week ago. Come on now, take out Rs. 300. You will have to pay the fine', he said and showed it to me. There was a commanding look in his eyes, and a strictness in his voice. Somewhere on his face though I spotted a smile, anticipating a quick 300 bucks. Ah the devil! Why should I pay 300 bucks when I travel only about 20 days or so to college each year, yet buy a second class quarterly pass thrice a year faithfully? I had to think fast.
There are times in life when things you learnt in your childhood strike you. Sometimes, you feel these are silly. But when you really need them, such things can be blessings in disguise. 'Ignorance is bliss' - somehow this thought came to my mind. Ah, an idea! How brilliant of me! I made a mental note to pat myself on my back as soon as I got down from this wretched train! For the time being, I have 300 bucks to save.
'Pardon me', I said, 'What do you mean 'expire'? This is ticket for train - not a medicine that will expire' I said, and all people around me burst out laughing, even that smelly dude who was standing beside me (lucky bastard got a seat somewhere along the journey!) The TC was not amused. He gave me a cold look and said, 'Okay smart guy. Enough of your jokes. Now pay the fine.' This drama went on for a few more minutes. Now I was getting well into the groove. I was arguing with the TC, showed him that the ticket was mine, showed him my name, the destination station name etc. (everything except the date) Then the TC showed me the date, and I tried my best at looking confused. I managed a frightened, innocent look, and quietly asked the TC, 'Now what should I do uncle? I didn't know it works like this.' I am not sure now, but I think I also managed to squeeze out a tear or two as well.
Now the TC looked confused. Perhaps my acting looked so genuine that he was convinced that I wasn't lying. He said that I'll have to buy another pass. Said it's called 'renewal' of the pass, and I should check the expiry date each time and make sure to buy a renewal when the date is nearing. I thanked him a lot, said I'll never repeat this mistake again. He smiled, then asked me - 'New to Mumbai?' Of course yes! I would be a fool to say no now. Guess what, I told him that ever since I've come here, I have not met as helpful a person as him - explaining everything about tickets to a poor village fellow like me. In the village in Bihar from where I come, people are not this helpful. 'But how did you realise I wasn't from Mumbai?' I asked him just for the sake of asking. 'Well, the way you hid your pass told me that', he said like a wise old chap. I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not. But I was relieved that this stupid habit came to some use at least.
'Tickets please', and he was moving ahead. 'Uncle, what about the fine?' I asked again innocently. 'Never mind', he said, 'In Mumbai, we welcome Bihari baabus as guests - I cannot accept fines from our guest. Namashkar'.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Route number 524
Going home has become rare for me these days, now that I have finally convinced my parents that they should let me enjoy my last few months of IIT hostel life, and also that my being at home is not going to be so interesting once I come back in May, my job now being in Mumbai. As a consequence I was not surprised to learn today at the bus stop that the BEST route number 498 for Borivli, which used to be my favourite route (shortest and cheapest) has been discontinued for over a couple of months now. That meant that I had to wait for bus no. 524, which was something that I had always avoided (longest and most expensive).
Standing with me at this bus stop was this cute girl. I would say she would be about my age, give or take a few months. I have this strange habit where I always try guessing a girl's age whenever I spot one, and then try analysing what type she would be looking at her choice of footwear. Thing is, I have until now seen so many different types of such cases, that I am never bored of this routine of mine - there is always something new to be noticed. So anyway, coming back to this particular girl, I would say she was about my age, perhaps did some 3 year undergrad from somewhere, and is now happily settling into her first job. Her attractive black sandals and her smart dressing sense gave me the impression that she may be in the services sector - perhaps HR, or IT or consulting or something.
As is always the case, the bus that I wish to take never comes within the first 5 - 10 minutes of me reaching the bus stop. It seemed to me that this girl also shared a similar fate. Not one who wants to be caught staring, I was stealing little glances at her, trying to confirm my suspicions of her personality (it always is a good feeling to know that I can really analyse how other people think by inferring their personality from their social image). After about 2 minutes of waiting, she got a phone call. The ringtone was some familiar tune that I could not place, but the monophonic notes ensuing from her cellphone somehow shook my beliefs of her coming from a services background, as I have always felt people there should own some pretty good cellphones with some real smart ringtones (that being the reason why I have my eyes set upon the w960i that I'll buy as soon as I start my job, as I don't see my Nokia 2300 fitting into my consulting job profile). Anyway, I remember I saw a bright smile on her face when she checked her phone screen to see who was calling. Her first words 'Hi sweetie' told me that I better not listen to the rest of the conversation to avoid embarrassment for both of us, if she would notice me spying.
I think her call lasted a good part of 4 minutes or so. About 4 buses headed for Andheri station passed meanwhile, with no Borivli bound bus in sight. What started out as a happy call was not turning out to be so good with time passing by. I heard her shout a 'What' followed by an almost tearful 'How could you' and a question that started with a 'but', that was left unasked. I don't think she formally ended the call, as there was no goodbye said, nor any 'I don't want to hear from you ever again' either. Then she took out a neatly folded white handkerchief with some flowery pattern from her handbag (or purse or something that it was - I felt it was too big to be called a purse and too small to qualify for a handbag. But then I have seen many girls carrying those, so I guess it is pretty normal to own one) and silently wiped her eyes. That happy look that I had seen in them earlier was now lost somewhere.
I was almost tempted to approach her and ask if something was wrong and if I could be of any help. Or perhaps start a conversation by asking her if she needed some water, my faithful water bottle always being at my disposal. Or perhaps I could have said 'Not to pry, but are you okay? Do you want me to hail you an auto or something?' But I didn't. I always choose to stay away from girls - especially strangers. I saw her taking out a small little gift that was still unopened (I would never know if it was gifted to her or if she had bought it for someone). She gave it a long look and I had no idea what she would be thinking of then. Perhaps that gift meant a lot to her. Or perhaps it now bore no significance at all. She gave it one tearful kiss and then hurled it into the empty dustbin close by that until now seemed to serve no purpose at all. She then caught me looking at her. I tried giving her my best sympathetic look and was about to ask her 'Everything okay miss?' But then she smiled. It looked like a smile that says 'Yes don't worry. I am okay.' Then she called out to an auto, told him where she wanted to go, and got in. No goodbye. I wasn't expecting one either.
A minute later my 524 came by. I was lucky it wasn't crowded - it's a hell of an experience traveling standing in crowded buses on Bombay's unkempt roads; especially the highways. And when the conductor pulled on to the hanging cord twice and as I heard the familiar 'Ting ting' sound, I couldn't stop thinking what that gift now lying in the dustbin could contain.
Happy Valentine's day!
(I meant to write this post on that day itself, but I was quite busy doing other irrelevant and unimportant things, hence the delay).
Standing with me at this bus stop was this cute girl. I would say she would be about my age, give or take a few months. I have this strange habit where I always try guessing a girl's age whenever I spot one, and then try analysing what type she would be looking at her choice of footwear. Thing is, I have until now seen so many different types of such cases, that I am never bored of this routine of mine - there is always something new to be noticed. So anyway, coming back to this particular girl, I would say she was about my age, perhaps did some 3 year undergrad from somewhere, and is now happily settling into her first job. Her attractive black sandals and her smart dressing sense gave me the impression that she may be in the services sector - perhaps HR, or IT or consulting or something.
As is always the case, the bus that I wish to take never comes within the first 5 - 10 minutes of me reaching the bus stop. It seemed to me that this girl also shared a similar fate. Not one who wants to be caught staring, I was stealing little glances at her, trying to confirm my suspicions of her personality (it always is a good feeling to know that I can really analyse how other people think by inferring their personality from their social image). After about 2 minutes of waiting, she got a phone call. The ringtone was some familiar tune that I could not place, but the monophonic notes ensuing from her cellphone somehow shook my beliefs of her coming from a services background, as I have always felt people there should own some pretty good cellphones with some real smart ringtones (that being the reason why I have my eyes set upon the w960i that I'll buy as soon as I start my job, as I don't see my Nokia 2300 fitting into my consulting job profile). Anyway, I remember I saw a bright smile on her face when she checked her phone screen to see who was calling. Her first words 'Hi sweetie' told me that I better not listen to the rest of the conversation to avoid embarrassment for both of us, if she would notice me spying.
I think her call lasted a good part of 4 minutes or so. About 4 buses headed for Andheri station passed meanwhile, with no Borivli bound bus in sight. What started out as a happy call was not turning out to be so good with time passing by. I heard her shout a 'What' followed by an almost tearful 'How could you' and a question that started with a 'but', that was left unasked. I don't think she formally ended the call, as there was no goodbye said, nor any 'I don't want to hear from you ever again' either. Then she took out a neatly folded white handkerchief with some flowery pattern from her handbag (or purse or something that it was - I felt it was too big to be called a purse and too small to qualify for a handbag. But then I have seen many girls carrying those, so I guess it is pretty normal to own one) and silently wiped her eyes. That happy look that I had seen in them earlier was now lost somewhere.
I was almost tempted to approach her and ask if something was wrong and if I could be of any help. Or perhaps start a conversation by asking her if she needed some water, my faithful water bottle always being at my disposal. Or perhaps I could have said 'Not to pry, but are you okay? Do you want me to hail you an auto or something?' But I didn't. I always choose to stay away from girls - especially strangers. I saw her taking out a small little gift that was still unopened (I would never know if it was gifted to her or if she had bought it for someone). She gave it a long look and I had no idea what she would be thinking of then. Perhaps that gift meant a lot to her. Or perhaps it now bore no significance at all. She gave it one tearful kiss and then hurled it into the empty dustbin close by that until now seemed to serve no purpose at all. She then caught me looking at her. I tried giving her my best sympathetic look and was about to ask her 'Everything okay miss?' But then she smiled. It looked like a smile that says 'Yes don't worry. I am okay.' Then she called out to an auto, told him where she wanted to go, and got in. No goodbye. I wasn't expecting one either.
A minute later my 524 came by. I was lucky it wasn't crowded - it's a hell of an experience traveling standing in crowded buses on Bombay's unkempt roads; especially the highways. And when the conductor pulled on to the hanging cord twice and as I heard the familiar 'Ting ting' sound, I couldn't stop thinking what that gift now lying in the dustbin could contain.
Happy Valentine's day!
(I meant to write this post on that day itself, but I was quite busy doing other irrelevant and unimportant things, hence the delay).
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Hope
I was recently at my cousin's place for a family get together and was relaxing in their patio after a sumptuous dinner party. The stars were out and were pulsating, blinking as if they were warming up for a grandiose exhibition eventually. The scattered cirrus couldn't dampen the tenor of the hour. The moon was in a playful mood, peeping through whatever clouds that subsisted on an otherwise clear winter night, and hurriedly rushing for cover when beheld.
My cousin happened to spot me reposing thus. "So, what is my bro thinking about?" She asked.
"Oh nothing, just appreciating the tranquility after dark. Isn't it apt that the moon is associated with calmness and peace of mind?"
"Yes, that's right. And so too with lunatics and the like. Is this the reason why you are thinking about this?", she quipped.
"Well, perhaps. Jokes apart, do you think man ever landed on the moon?"
"Of course I do. Don't you believe so? Or do you uphold all those conspiracy theories and what not?"
"Well, I don't mean to be a sceptic here, nor do I wish to spoil the mood; but the moon looks to be such a serene place, an embodiment of peace itself; a tranquil world if I may. Doesn't it seem weird that humankind, which is these days so bereft of all these qualities, could reach such a place?"
"And what seems to be the point here?"
"None. It is just that we should perhaps focus more on the symbolism associated with the moon and take inspiration to improve matters down here, than trying to complicate matters up there."
"And how is this related to man's landing on the moon?"
"I don't know. I somehow believe we should focus on more pressing matters than concentrating on mere facades to humour ourselves. Of course the vox populi seems to disagree with me on this."
"You and your stupid thoughts! Anyway, I'll catch you in a moment; have to give these keys to father," and she left.
Left alone was I to my stars, the moon and the looming darkness. The lights in the hall were switched off and the darkness seemed to be getting even closer. I happened to take a quick glance at the moon as it again sought cover behind a sparse cloud. And that happened to be the hallmark of the evening for me - no matter how dense the darkness approaching me, no matter how dark the lining be, the clouds shall always be silver for me.
My cousin happened to spot me reposing thus. "So, what is my bro thinking about?" She asked.
"Oh nothing, just appreciating the tranquility after dark. Isn't it apt that the moon is associated with calmness and peace of mind?"
"Yes, that's right. And so too with lunatics and the like. Is this the reason why you are thinking about this?", she quipped.
"Well, perhaps. Jokes apart, do you think man ever landed on the moon?"
"Of course I do. Don't you believe so? Or do you uphold all those conspiracy theories and what not?"
"Well, I don't mean to be a sceptic here, nor do I wish to spoil the mood; but the moon looks to be such a serene place, an embodiment of peace itself; a tranquil world if I may. Doesn't it seem weird that humankind, which is these days so bereft of all these qualities, could reach such a place?"
"And what seems to be the point here?"
"None. It is just that we should perhaps focus more on the symbolism associated with the moon and take inspiration to improve matters down here, than trying to complicate matters up there."
"And how is this related to man's landing on the moon?"
"I don't know. I somehow believe we should focus on more pressing matters than concentrating on mere facades to humour ourselves. Of course the vox populi seems to disagree with me on this."
"You and your stupid thoughts! Anyway, I'll catch you in a moment; have to give these keys to father," and she left.
Left alone was I to my stars, the moon and the looming darkness. The lights in the hall were switched off and the darkness seemed to be getting even closer. I happened to take a quick glance at the moon as it again sought cover behind a sparse cloud. And that happened to be the hallmark of the evening for me - no matter how dense the darkness approaching me, no matter how dark the lining be, the clouds shall always be silver for me.
Monday, August 27, 2007
This will pass
There is commotion all around me. I am sure that all this is just a dream, a bad nightmare rather. 'Life can never be so cruel, this can't be the world that I live in...' Yet somewhere deep in my heart I know I could be wrong. I have always heard of things like this happening to others, but had never given it a thought, probably because I never was directly in the line of fire. 'I cannot die in my dream'. I know for sure, that one does not die in one's dreams. It is this mysterious programming of the human mind that prevents us from experiencing death in dreams. Is it because we have never experienced death in life before, and that our dreams are based just on our experiences in life hitherto? But then, I wondered about all the dreams about her, things I wanted badly, but had never experienced, at least in this life.
I am surprised at how my mind could wander amidst all the horror. There was blood all around me. I don't know if it is mine or someone else's. Is this the blood of that child who was sitting next to me a while ago? No! It can't be... I cannot even imagine something so horrible happening to that beautiful thing. Such gore cannot belong to such beauty. Surely this is a dream, a product of my vile thoughts perhaps. Pinch me! I pinched myself. There is something wrong now... By now I should have woken up, perplexed and sweating perhaps, and mightily relieved. But I am still here. I am still covered with this blood.
I see a man crying out from a distance away. Hey wait! I am not able to hear him... oh no... I am unable to hear anything... I never noticed this until now. Can we listen to others speaking in our dreams? Or does our mind pretend it is listening, all the while aware unconsciously of what the next chain of events and thoughts is going to be? I try to listen to his cries. I can see that he is in great pain, but I cannot listen to his pain. However odd this may seem, I thank God for not allowing me to listen to him... I just couldn't have taken it. All I can hear is a deafening silence.. I notice he is covered in blood too. Everything around us is black and red. I am reminded of the movie 300. Blood everywhere. The demonic side of humankind. Blood... death.
I remember I wasn't sleeping. This is not a dream. Sadly, this is all happening. And this time, it happens to me. A Saturday evening gone horribly wrong. What started out with joy, and children cheering to a laser show ends in this gore. Why? Why me? Why us? Why that kid who sat next to me? Why this man who I can't listen to? Why do this at all? I don't want to live through this. I cannot take this pain. I cannot accept such a life, which doesn't distinguish between beauty and gore. I don't want this. I want to die. I should have been killed too. I weep. I cry.
Then I hear a voice. Oh how calm it is! How very soothing, yet so authoritative, so dignified. Is this what they call the voice of the mind? The voice of God? The voice calms me. Just listening to it is sufficient to drive away the pain, the agony, the misery. This can't be a mortal speaking out. This isn't merely a voice, this is knowledge in all its glory, making itself heard at a time I need it most. The voice tells me to calm down and accept what has happened. It tells me all that happens, happens for the best. I can see no sense in what it tells me. What good is there in this? Clearly it's rubbish. But somehow, I am drawn towards it and I listen to it intently. It tells me that this will pass. The world was not this cruel at a time not too long ago, and this cruelty cannot last long as well. It tells me that the world is going to change. It asks me to trust it on this. 'The world will change. Trust me. All this will pass. I will not tolerate such terror in my creation. I wish as much as you do that this ends. But giving up and submitting to such terror won't help. Stand up. Fight against this. It is then that I can see the change that I know will eventually dawn. If you cannot fight, at least don't give up. Don't let your spirit die. These people, these elements, they can take your body, your happiness, all the beauty and peace there is; but they cannot take your spirit. Your spirit is under your control. It is upto you to defend it, or to surrender it. Listen wisely, and choose with care. Never give up.'
No, it still doesn't make sense. The world will change? Can it then bring back the little girl in whose blood I am covered? Can it give me back my hearing power? Can it give that man the peace of mind he lost? No. It surely can't. It told me that all this is for good. It happened for good. Where is this good? I don't see any good here. There can be no good where there is such horror. But now I don't want to die. It told me never to give up. I have to live on to change things. I don't like this. I hate all that just happened. I shall fight against this. I choose not to submit my spirit.
- Dedicated to the victims of the recent Hyderabad twin blasts. Let us vow to change the world. Let us vow that there shall be a day when such horror is done away with. And that day I shall realise what the human spirit is all about.
I am surprised at how my mind could wander amidst all the horror. There was blood all around me. I don't know if it is mine or someone else's. Is this the blood of that child who was sitting next to me a while ago? No! It can't be... I cannot even imagine something so horrible happening to that beautiful thing. Such gore cannot belong to such beauty. Surely this is a dream, a product of my vile thoughts perhaps. Pinch me! I pinched myself. There is something wrong now... By now I should have woken up, perplexed and sweating perhaps, and mightily relieved. But I am still here. I am still covered with this blood.
I see a man crying out from a distance away. Hey wait! I am not able to hear him... oh no... I am unable to hear anything... I never noticed this until now. Can we listen to others speaking in our dreams? Or does our mind pretend it is listening, all the while aware unconsciously of what the next chain of events and thoughts is going to be? I try to listen to his cries. I can see that he is in great pain, but I cannot listen to his pain. However odd this may seem, I thank God for not allowing me to listen to him... I just couldn't have taken it. All I can hear is a deafening silence.. I notice he is covered in blood too. Everything around us is black and red. I am reminded of the movie 300. Blood everywhere. The demonic side of humankind. Blood... death.
I remember I wasn't sleeping. This is not a dream. Sadly, this is all happening. And this time, it happens to me. A Saturday evening gone horribly wrong. What started out with joy, and children cheering to a laser show ends in this gore. Why? Why me? Why us? Why that kid who sat next to me? Why this man who I can't listen to? Why do this at all? I don't want to live through this. I cannot take this pain. I cannot accept such a life, which doesn't distinguish between beauty and gore. I don't want this. I want to die. I should have been killed too. I weep. I cry.
Then I hear a voice. Oh how calm it is! How very soothing, yet so authoritative, so dignified. Is this what they call the voice of the mind? The voice of God? The voice calms me. Just listening to it is sufficient to drive away the pain, the agony, the misery. This can't be a mortal speaking out. This isn't merely a voice, this is knowledge in all its glory, making itself heard at a time I need it most. The voice tells me to calm down and accept what has happened. It tells me all that happens, happens for the best. I can see no sense in what it tells me. What good is there in this? Clearly it's rubbish. But somehow, I am drawn towards it and I listen to it intently. It tells me that this will pass. The world was not this cruel at a time not too long ago, and this cruelty cannot last long as well. It tells me that the world is going to change. It asks me to trust it on this. 'The world will change. Trust me. All this will pass. I will not tolerate such terror in my creation. I wish as much as you do that this ends. But giving up and submitting to such terror won't help. Stand up. Fight against this. It is then that I can see the change that I know will eventually dawn. If you cannot fight, at least don't give up. Don't let your spirit die. These people, these elements, they can take your body, your happiness, all the beauty and peace there is; but they cannot take your spirit. Your spirit is under your control. It is upto you to defend it, or to surrender it. Listen wisely, and choose with care. Never give up.'
No, it still doesn't make sense. The world will change? Can it then bring back the little girl in whose blood I am covered? Can it give me back my hearing power? Can it give that man the peace of mind he lost? No. It surely can't. It told me that all this is for good. It happened for good. Where is this good? I don't see any good here. There can be no good where there is such horror. But now I don't want to die. It told me never to give up. I have to live on to change things. I don't like this. I hate all that just happened. I shall fight against this. I choose not to submit my spirit.
- Dedicated to the victims of the recent Hyderabad twin blasts. Let us vow to change the world. Let us vow that there shall be a day when such horror is done away with. And that day I shall realise what the human spirit is all about.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Phone(y) calls and the like
2pm on a typical sultry Mumbai Wednesday afternoon. I have just returned from my hostel mess after a not-so-good-but-okay-nevertheless lunch. Wednesday afternoon is something I always look forward to, because IIT policies typically allow no lectures and labs on Wednesday afternoons, which paves the path for a nice brief siesta. I close the curtains to keep out the sun, pull out the soft music folder and enqueue it in Winamp, and set an alarm for 3 hours on my cell phone and lay down happily, awaiting the ever so sweet and lovely sleep. And then arrives the unseen.
It makes its presence felt with a loud ring, which on my phone is the monophonic Rang de Basanti Bhangra score. I agree that the tune is good, but you don't want to hear that when you are trying to catch a few winks in the middle of a busy week. I wake up groaning only to see an unkown number on the screen. I pick up the phone and go,
"Hello?" (in a sad, grudging tone)
"Hello sir, I am calling from ICICI bank and we would like to tell you about our new credit card which has many features such as..."
Click! I don't want to hear any more of this crap. These call centre people working on behalf of the banks, the mutual funds and other what nots catch you always at the wrong time, wrong for both you and them. Neither do you want to talk to them nor do they want to inform you about the latest in their what not scheme of things. Now that my sweet siesta was mercilessly snatched away, I sat down and dreamt of some way the call centre girl would meet her match.
A few days later, I was at my cousin's place and playing with my one and a half year old nephew, Raju. Then, Ring, ring. I answered the call.
"Hello?"
"Hello sir. I am calling for Mr. Rajesh from ICICI bank."
"(confused) Uh ok. Hang on,"
I now hand over the phone to Raju. He is very happy that someone is offering him the phone by himself; normally he is driven away the moment that thing rings. I turn on the speaker phone just to watch the fun.
"Haalo,"
"Hello sir, I am calling from ICICI bank and we.,"
"Da.. um... (giggle)"
"(confused) I am sorry sir, I didn't get you on that. Were you saying something?"
A pause. Raju is now unsure of what he should do. Well, I don't blame the kid, probably this was the very first time that anyone called him. Maybe the call centre girl is happy that she found the one in a millionth caller who hasn't hung up on her as yet, and goes on with her rote message. Raju has nothing to say anyway, except his 'da's and 'ugh's and his giggles, so he stays glued to the phone and listens attentively, all the while fiddling with his favourite toy truck, while I take a break from all the playing, turning off the speaker phone. Raju was smiling all the while he was on the line, and maybe wanted to tell me to take his pic or something; you know he had that gleam in his eyes and the desperately pleading smile that most people offer you when they want you to take their snap. Anyway, I wasn't in the mood for the paparazzi role and called it quits. I guess after a while the call centre employee realised that either she didn't have the right fish on the hook, or probably someone was playing games with her and so she hung up.
Raju suddenly became sad. Maybe he thought he had done something wrong and that is why the nice aunty on the other end cut the call. He gave me that sad little look that he usually gives when he knows he has wronged and started crying. Hearing the loud cries, my cousin sister came rushing out from the kitchen and asked me what happened. I told her all that she wanted to know.
"Don't tell me they had Raju's name on their list. I wonder where they get all this information from!"
I said, "They have their ways. You know, the list of names from the hospital where he was born. Maybe they thought he's some patient or something over there and called. Could be anything you know. Maybe they have many lists of such people out there. Who knows how many Rajus are on their lists."
"Can't they make a list of do-not-call-these-people and put our phone number in there. All this looks scary to me - this prying and snooping around business on the call centre's part."
"If they do that, then Raju would never get another phone call for many years,"
"I don't care. Besides, how would he know?"
"Well, he wouldn't. But now that no one stopped him from playing around with the phone, he will rush to pick it up each time it rings."
"At this rate, maybe he will start receiving junk mail next year onwards!" and she went back to manage the kitchen.
Probably yes, I wondered. The next few months will be full of I-will-get-it's and how-many-times-do-I-have-to-tell-you-to-stay-away's and the accompanying beatings and the cries. Tough times sure lie ahead. But I was happy the call centre girl met her match. Someone with more spare time than her's to actually make her feel she was wasting time.
It makes its presence felt with a loud ring, which on my phone is the monophonic Rang de Basanti Bhangra score. I agree that the tune is good, but you don't want to hear that when you are trying to catch a few winks in the middle of a busy week. I wake up groaning only to see an unkown number on the screen. I pick up the phone and go,
"Hello?" (in a sad, grudging tone)
"Hello sir, I am calling from ICICI bank and we would like to tell you about our new credit card which has many features such as..."
Click! I don't want to hear any more of this crap. These call centre people working on behalf of the banks, the mutual funds and other what nots catch you always at the wrong time, wrong for both you and them. Neither do you want to talk to them nor do they want to inform you about the latest in their what not scheme of things. Now that my sweet siesta was mercilessly snatched away, I sat down and dreamt of some way the call centre girl would meet her match.
A few days later, I was at my cousin's place and playing with my one and a half year old nephew, Raju. Then, Ring, ring. I answered the call.
"Hello?"
"Hello sir. I am calling for Mr. Rajesh from ICICI bank."
"(confused) Uh ok. Hang on,"
I now hand over the phone to Raju. He is very happy that someone is offering him the phone by himself; normally he is driven away the moment that thing rings. I turn on the speaker phone just to watch the fun.
"Haalo,"
"Hello sir, I am calling from ICICI bank and we.,"
"Da.. um... (giggle)"
"(confused) I am sorry sir, I didn't get you on that. Were you saying something?"
A pause. Raju is now unsure of what he should do. Well, I don't blame the kid, probably this was the very first time that anyone called him. Maybe the call centre girl is happy that she found the one in a millionth caller who hasn't hung up on her as yet, and goes on with her rote message. Raju has nothing to say anyway, except his 'da's and 'ugh's and his giggles, so he stays glued to the phone and listens attentively, all the while fiddling with his favourite toy truck, while I take a break from all the playing, turning off the speaker phone. Raju was smiling all the while he was on the line, and maybe wanted to tell me to take his pic or something; you know he had that gleam in his eyes and the desperately pleading smile that most people offer you when they want you to take their snap. Anyway, I wasn't in the mood for the paparazzi role and called it quits. I guess after a while the call centre employee realised that either she didn't have the right fish on the hook, or probably someone was playing games with her and so she hung up.
Raju suddenly became sad. Maybe he thought he had done something wrong and that is why the nice aunty on the other end cut the call. He gave me that sad little look that he usually gives when he knows he has wronged and started crying. Hearing the loud cries, my cousin sister came rushing out from the kitchen and asked me what happened. I told her all that she wanted to know.
"Don't tell me they had Raju's name on their list. I wonder where they get all this information from!"
I said, "They have their ways. You know, the list of names from the hospital where he was born. Maybe they thought he's some patient or something over there and called. Could be anything you know. Maybe they have many lists of such people out there. Who knows how many Rajus are on their lists."
"Can't they make a list of do-not-call-these-people and put our phone number in there. All this looks scary to me - this prying and snooping around business on the call centre's part."
"If they do that, then Raju would never get another phone call for many years,"
"I don't care. Besides, how would he know?"
"Well, he wouldn't. But now that no one stopped him from playing around with the phone, he will rush to pick it up each time it rings."
"At this rate, maybe he will start receiving junk mail next year onwards!" and she went back to manage the kitchen.
Probably yes, I wondered. The next few months will be full of I-will-get-it's and how-many-times-do-I-have-to-tell-you-to-stay-away's and the accompanying beatings and the cries. Tough times sure lie ahead. But I was happy the call centre girl met her match. Someone with more spare time than her's to actually make her feel she was wasting time.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Interesting stories
The other night we all roomies were sitting outside in the grass in our backyard after a good dinner, when Shashikant said, "Sid yaar, kuch bol. Tu kuch bolta hi nahi hai, hamesha chup chap baitha rehta hai." And the first thing that crossed my mind was - 'How odd! Tell this to my hostel friends back at IIT, and they may probably split their sides laughing.'
But yes, it is true. I have kept more to myself here in Cornell as against my usual outgoing nature. Well, I would say that it is partly because I am taking this experience here as a learning experience and take every opportunity to observe and learn, and hence, am not much of a participant out here, and partly because I think I really don't have anything much interesting to talk about! 'How odd' you may say, or probably not; I am not sure how many dull folks exist out there. But it is true; unlike most people who I know, who always have something interesting to say and tell, I am rather the stodgy species.
I should point out here that it isn't my life that is dull - I do have interesting things happening in my life; well, at least they seem interesting to me, but I somehow don't seem to document them well enough to recall later and then narrate at ease. I happened to read a post by Scott Adams on his Dilbert blog the other night, where he spoke on this very issue. He says he tries remembering key issues from any interesting anecdotes, and can recall the whole situation from these. I feel I should give this a try; maybe that way I will have something interesting to say the next time I sit in a group where the pauses would have the better of the speeches.
I do recall one incident though back from my school days - one that stands apart from the rest in my memory. There was an essay competition in our school, and I had worked hard on preparing a great essay, which I was sure was a winner. The day before the competition, (as was my usual habit) I took my essay to school to show it to my friends, partly to enjoy the awestruck looks on their faces and partly to tell them in their face - 'Ditch it guys, you don't stand a chance!' I guess the rest of the day went pretty normally, as I don't recall much from that, but when it was time to go home and I was repacking my bag, I noticed that I had lost my essay! I searched
everywhere, scoured my neighbour's school bag too, but the essay was nowhere to be found. Sad and dejected, I returned home, and sat down to prepare another essay. I was cursing myself all the while for having been so stupid to take that essay to school - should never have done that at all! And as I was about to start writing another essay, I took out my notebook to note the topic again, to note that down in the essay. And lo! Wow! The topic read 'India's 50 years of independence!' I smiled looking at that topic, and thanked god for making me lose the essay I had written earlier.
The essay I had written earlier wouldn't have qualified - I had mistaken the topic for 'India's 50th year of Independence'. I smiled. Partly because I was saved. Partly because the person who stole my essay was doomed. I learnt one thing from the whole incident though - never to be a showoff again. And I have also learnt one thing now - I should remember most interesting things that happen in my life, lest people mistake me for a dumb person.
But yes, it is true. I have kept more to myself here in Cornell as against my usual outgoing nature. Well, I would say that it is partly because I am taking this experience here as a learning experience and take every opportunity to observe and learn, and hence, am not much of a participant out here, and partly because I think I really don't have anything much interesting to talk about! 'How odd' you may say, or probably not; I am not sure how many dull folks exist out there. But it is true; unlike most people who I know, who always have something interesting to say and tell, I am rather the stodgy species.
I should point out here that it isn't my life that is dull - I do have interesting things happening in my life; well, at least they seem interesting to me, but I somehow don't seem to document them well enough to recall later and then narrate at ease. I happened to read a post by Scott Adams on his Dilbert blog the other night, where he spoke on this very issue. He says he tries remembering key issues from any interesting anecdotes, and can recall the whole situation from these. I feel I should give this a try; maybe that way I will have something interesting to say the next time I sit in a group where the pauses would have the better of the speeches.
I do recall one incident though back from my school days - one that stands apart from the rest in my memory. There was an essay competition in our school, and I had worked hard on preparing a great essay, which I was sure was a winner. The day before the competition, (as was my usual habit) I took my essay to school to show it to my friends, partly to enjoy the awestruck looks on their faces and partly to tell them in their face - 'Ditch it guys, you don't stand a chance!' I guess the rest of the day went pretty normally, as I don't recall much from that, but when it was time to go home and I was repacking my bag, I noticed that I had lost my essay! I searched
everywhere, scoured my neighbour's school bag too, but the essay was nowhere to be found. Sad and dejected, I returned home, and sat down to prepare another essay. I was cursing myself all the while for having been so stupid to take that essay to school - should never have done that at all! And as I was about to start writing another essay, I took out my notebook to note the topic again, to note that down in the essay. And lo! Wow! The topic read 'India's 50 years of independence!' I smiled looking at that topic, and thanked god for making me lose the essay I had written earlier.The essay I had written earlier wouldn't have qualified - I had mistaken the topic for 'India's 50th year of Independence'. I smiled. Partly because I was saved. Partly because the person who stole my essay was doomed. I learnt one thing from the whole incident though - never to be a showoff again. And I have also learnt one thing now - I should remember most interesting things that happen in my life, lest people mistake me for a dumb person.
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