Of New Life and Arts Girls

First post from my new laptop (woohoo).
First post from a Linux computer (all thanks to frustBoy).
And my first post after I became a student again.
Very good.
Our frustBoy did not install any media players in the laptop so I have nothing to do sitting in my ultra boring hostel and thus I set out to write this.
Moreover, this past month has been really hectic because of one life changing decision and because of its consequences.
Coming back to the boring hostel, I say boring because, nothing seems to happen here. In college there was lot of activity, gaming, DC++, shouting, ragging and so on but here people seem to hardly know each other. Just some time back, a guy who is in his final year of M.Sc Computer Science lamented with me that he has been in that room (two rooms next to mine) since the beginning of his course but now all his neighbours have changed. He goes about his business in a very melancholy way.
The food here is very wurst but the hard core Telugu people seem to like it a lot. I see their plates full of rice and pappu. Its not that bad, but it is very limited in variety and is full of garlic, which I not used to. But no problem, there are other sources of food which are quite tasty and affordable, only that they are very far away from the hostel.
That reminds me, this campus is ultra huge. College is nothing compared to this. We used to complain about how far our hostel (in Third year) was from our classrooms, and now that distance seems insignificant. I have to cycle about 10 kilometres everyday just to get to class from hostel and back again. If I have to go to the library or computer centre, it is another 1-2 kilometres to the total. But I am not complaining. Why, because I am happy that the belly I developed during my lifetime as software engineer might disappear.
One thing worth noting here, in this campus, is the number of girls. It is huge. Right from the beginning of time, I am been in a female deficient environment. Schools age is irrelevant, junior college saw only 4 girls among 60 students, and college was abominable with 8 girls in 210 students. Even software life sucked, for our team consistently saw (inadvertently) only 1 female member, if a new girl joined, the old one left and so on. But here ! Girls seem to be present everywhere, or perhaps my eyes are looking for only them. In either case, they seem to be everywhere. And the kind of girls is also problematic. You see, we are used to only lifeless engineering girls who have been through 2 or 3 years of IITJEE coaching then 4 years of engineering college and end up making software thus having all life sucked out of them. We are not used to these "Arts Girls", by them I mean, all this economics, humanities, social sciences , fine arts etc. students (female). There seems to be a different air about these girls. They seem to far less reserved and more outgoing in their life. They have many male friends (which our engineering gang never dared) and they move around with them quite freely. Now, one might say there is nothing wrong in that, that it is modern city life and so on and I completely agree. I am not going to explore the morality of their actions. I am just making note of the drastic change in my environment w.r.t girls.
Needless to say, all this free movement, touching and talking and all is adding lot of unrest. And as we know unrest is not a good thing to have in large quantities. Whenever frustBoy says something in this regard, I say that philosophy will come to my rescue, but he does not buy it. Instead he plans to visit more often so that he too can enjoy the sights. However, he is more frust after the first few visits, though he claims he has seen many such girls.
As one of his friends had remarked, this problem of getting frust because of lack (or abundance) of girls in ones life is only among the engineering students and this is quite evident in the way the Arts Boys move with their girls. They seem quite relaxed in the company of the girls and don't seem to make much of the touching and talking and same spoon sharing and so on.
Unfortunately or fortunately, I am one of those engineering students. But then again, it is just a matter of time. Slowly I will also become one of those Arts Boys or at least half Arts Boys (Ar Boys kikikikiki) and then perhaps I can be more relaxed in my female rich environment. Only worry is, what if the Ghost of Christmas Past comes back to haunt.

Another Rage toon

It is a combination of rage and "kaddi" (P.J).

Moreover, this is true of Bengalis also.

Bong will say, "Jool khaabho ?"

My Rage Guy Cartoon

This was my submission to TambrahmRage . Unfortunately, I screwed up the font and I doubt if they will accept it. So, after I found out that this Rage Guy is not some copyrighted thing, I have decided to post it here for the greater good.

Pass it on, no problem, I won't mind. I just hope the JalsaJilpa guy doesn't mind.

Mother Promise

I don't want to get married.

Seems like a big burden.

My mother is awfully worried about this attitude of mine towards marrige (I must write about that sometime).

However, I have decided to give her some concession.

The moment I hear this song in my head when I see a girl, I will marry her (ofcourse, only after I sought her consent and all).

Trisha looks picha-homely in this song.

I will marry Trisha only man PERIOD

There was time when she looked so divine. Now I don't know what got into her. Sha.

Some Ghaadu must have got to her.

Curse him!

*mental note* Must get rid of him.

LOL DOG

The left over+ curd go to this dog every night.

KiKiKiKiKi.

C++

Funny. Moreover, I am taking a "Fundamentals of C++" training in the company, so this error fascinated me.

An Old Bag

Srinivasan generally walked in quick steps, but there were times when his pace equalled that of a pregnant Rhinoceros wading through the water. Today was one such day.

He had woken up as usual and set out to get the day's supply of milk. On his way back, as he turned the corner of 3rd Cross, a voice called on to him,

"You should get a new bag, Sri".

Srinivasan stopped abruptly, only one person called him by that name. He wished he could walk away without turning back but he knew he couldn't. He turned around slowly,

"Hello Rohini, you seem to have come after a long time".

Rohini seemed to have just got up. She stood behind her gate with her arms over it and held her coffee tumbler in one hand. She smiled gently, "Yes, some or the other reason you see. In between my parents came over there so I didn'nt have to come here".

"Hmmm", agreed Srinivasan.

She went on, "Its been so many years and yet, the colony seems just the same". She looked around and Srinivasan followed her gaze.

"So, how is everyone ?", he ventured meekly.

"Oh, the same. We just put Ravi in school".

"Who?"

"My son",

"Oh!", said Srinivasan in a teasing tone. Rohini grinned.

"What about you?"

"I teach music".

"Very good, very good. My sister Lakshmi's children are also learning now-a-days. My mother makes them sing when ever they come here. I don't make much out of it, you know how I was at music".

Pause.

"What about you Sri ? What are you up to".

Srinivasan was a bit dazed. What was he up to indeed ?

"Oh, the usual routine..", he said dismissing her question.

"Nothing special?", Rohini asked suggestively.

He knew perfectly well what she was suggesting at. What she meant was- "Didn't you get married ?". This brought back unwanted memories and Srinivasan at once bucked up.

"Ah, well, I have set up a terrace garden in our house", he began, "I do some basic horoscope matching- nothing big, just for an initial opinion. I am a member of the Temple committee- you know, the old Rama Temple. Then....I passed the CA exam some time back and I have taken up some simple accounting work for some of the colony people- who ever has enough courage. Haha". There, those were his achievements and there was a reason he said it with so much vigour.

"Wow! You've been busy. Good".

Pause.

"Till when are you here then ?", Srinivasan hurried to change the subject.

"Next week. Just came to pick up Ravi. My parents had brought him with them when they returned."

"Oh! Nice nice."

Pause.

This time, however, the pause was interrupted by a terrible shriek from within the house.

"That must be Ravi. I better attend to him. Come by some time. Bring your mother too, its been an age since I saw her."

"Yes, yes, sure."

With that Srinivasan walked away and Rohini ran inside.

It was now,that, Srinivasan had assumed the pace of the pregnant rhinoceros.

"Rohini", he said that name aloud.

They had known each other for so many years. Her parents moved into Jayanagar when Srinivasan was eleven. They were in the same class and walked back home in the same group, not together, but in the same group. Ramesh kept Srinivasan engaged and Rohini walked with her own female friends. Apart from that, the only time he saw her was at the temple every Saturday.

Now that he thought about it, and he often did, he could not recollect the exact time or stage in which he fell in love with her. But he knew that his life had become very painful ever since. He had spent many sleepless nights, lying on his bed running conversations in his head. As soon as he came back from college he changed and stood outside, waiting for her. She came by that way, sometimes, to buy vegetables or to accompany her mother for her evening walk and he didn't want to miss the oppurtunity to speak to her, which, thankfully, she did.

However, he never said a word about how he felt to anyone, for he knew that it would not serve any purpose. Both of them belonged to very orthodox families. Added to that her father was highly ranked officier in the I.T department, while Srinivasan's father, when alive, was a clerk in the Postal Department; It was obvious that Rohini would get married to someone of equal stature. Moreover, he realized, as he sunk deeper into his thoughts that, Rohini was very smart- she was always first in class, she sung very well- she did so during every colony event and she played the Veenai. Srinivasan on the other hand was good only in History, much to the disappointment of his father, and could not deal with the raagas even if they were fed to him three times a day.

Nevertheless, he concluded that he could not go on living in this pain and decided that some thing had to be done about it. He would tell her, yes, he would tell her how he felt.

After considerable thought and lot of rehersal, preparing himself for all possible outcomes, Srinivasan fixed the Ramanavami day that year to drain his heart out.

"Lord Rama will bless me with the courage", he thought confidently.

After her program she invariably stayed for some time to enjoy the proceedings. This was the time Srinivasan deemed right. Of course, he feared being slapped right in the midst of all the colony people, but it had to be done.

When the D-Day came, Srinivasan sat in the crowd nervously and waited for Rohini to finish her performance. He could never appreciate the music but he loved her singing and was more than glad to join in the applause. She wore a blue pavadai and a yellow davani to go with the border, and she looked more radiant than ever. If she accepted his proposal he would be the luckiest man on earth, thought Srinivasan.

Rohini finished her performance, came down and sat next to him.

"How was it ?", she asked.

"Oh! What can I say..", managed Srinivas.

He fidgeted around for a while.

Then is spoke.

"Rohini..",

she turned.

"I have to say something",

"Yes..",

"Try not to slap me",

Now he had her full attention.

"I love you Rohini", there, he said it. He had seen stuff like this only in the movies. The handsome hero confidently went up to his lady love and said those words with all charm. Srinivasan, on the other hand, was not handsome, or confident nor had any charm and was definitely not the hero.

Rohini blinked for a second. Srinivasan didn't say anything else. He forgot all his lines. He saw her from the corner of his eye. There was a smile on her face.

"Why is she smiling? Does it mean she likes me too ?", thought Srinivasan.

"I never thought you might have such feelings towards me Sri", she said. Srinivasan grinned hopelessly, "Besides, you know it won't work ".

"Yeah, my mother would most definitely die of a heart attack if I told her that I was in love with an Iyer girl", said he.

"And I cannot imagine what my father would do".

"Yes, yes....He might be having great plans for your future".

Pause.

"I like your Sri. Let us be as we were. I am not going to say anything else."

"Yes, yes. Sure. I just...", Rohini seemed to have stopped listening, "...wanted to let you know", said Srinivasan to himself to complete the one line he managed to recollect.

After that day, Srinivasan's life was less miserable. He didn't have to wait near his gate every evening nor did he have to spend sleepless nights. He realised how much time he had spent or rather, wasted, waiting for or thinking about her.

"All this love nonsense is behind me, time to get back to life", resolved Srinivasan.

Sometimes, when he saw her in the temple, the bitterness of the thing came back to him. He closed his eyes and pretended to be in deep meditation. In time, he got used to the pain, of being rejected i.e., and resumed cordial talks.

He passed his B.Com in distinction, passed the Bank Exam in the first attempt and bought a Chetak as soon as he became permanent. Rohini on the other hand, completed her engineering and was married to a doctor in America. The wedding created quite a buzz in the colony. This was the first foreign mapilai in the colony. Srinivasan also attended the wedding, with his mother. He had gifted her a shiny envelope in which were present 101 rupees. Srinivasan's mother had objected strongly.

"Just because she studied with your for four years doesn't mean you pour out your fortune into her bridal purse. No one in the colony is giving that much", she said.

"Oh! Be silent mother. Its okay", he said. She grumbled to herself and went away. Just like all other guests, he too had had his picture taken with the new couple. Again, his mother was right beside him. Srinivasan often wondered, what Rohini did with those photos.

Years later, Ramesh, confessed, rather unceremoniously that he too had proposed to Rohini. Srinivasan was amazed. He was not the only one to have fallen for her.

"Is that why she smiled that day?", recollected Srinivasan. "Was she laughing at another "victim"? Every possibility that she was! Women take pride in the men they have managed to succesfully entice. Men might find pride in their job or in the car they drive or in the number people who saluted him, but a women takes pride in her family-her husband, her children, their success and status. Rohini. How inappropriate a name ? She should have been named Mohini, the enchantress", thought Srinivasan spitefully.

"Wait a minute", said another voice within him, "she didn't ask you to come and stand at your gate all evening. Don't blame her for your foolishness". Srinvasan agreed with this voice and felt apologetic towards Rohini. "After all, in astrology, Rohini is Moon's favourite nakshatram", he said, as if to complement for his bout of anger.

At this point in his recollections, he reached his home.

He went in and set his bag on the table. His mother had just finished her bath. She came in and took the packet of milk to make coffee.

"How many times did I tell you to get a new bag ? You never listen to me", she grumbled.

Srinivasan smiled at himself and buried himself into The Hindu.

A Poem

I was just sitting like so , and this just came to me:

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a gandu in the sky.

Some friends didn't like it. But that may be because they are like the last line of the poem.

Auto Art

And here we have an Italian Auto Driver in Bengaluru.

And right beside him:

We have a Shakespeare in every auto. He just needs to work on his spellings a bit.

At first I didn't understand the "No Kiss Me" part. Then I remembered one short essay by R.K.Narayan titled "Causerie" in which he tries to figure out what his niece meant by

"Shame Shame; Poppy Shame

All the girls no your name".

And I quote:-

"....could it mean that word was used as a verb without an auxiliary".

As in, the driver is yelling out to the guy behind him not to come and kiss the rear of his auto with his vehicle.

The Fifth Time

Srinivasan was getting worried. It was 9.30 and there was no sign of the boy's family nor a phone call nor a message. They said they would be there by nine. A bridal inspection is not an event one is late to attend.

"Most boys look forward to these kind of things", he thought to himself.

"On the other hand being the boy's side they might not want to look too eager. It would look cheap. Right, right" asserted another part of him.

"Did they meet with an accident, did they forget something, did they drive by this house and deem it inferior, or did they not find the house at all- how can someone not find an address in Jayanagar, all mains and crosses are so well marked, or did they have any last minute reversal, God forbid", his speculations continued.

Already four boys had come for the bridal inspection. Some rejected Gita and others where rejected by her. With the current trend finding a suitable boy itself was a task in itself. It was now three years since he first started looking for a son-in-law.

He went in and had another look at the arrangements. The cool drink was in the fridge, the glasses were arranged on a plate, there was sufficient milk for coffee, enough snacks and his sister was standing by, ready to make hot vadai. It was her speciality. She made it on all previous occasions and every family complimented her. The chairs were well cushioned, fresh covers were laid on them( they were reserved for such occasions, packed neatly into the cupboard there after). The rest of the furniture in the living room was well dusted. A few paintings which Gita had done hung on wall, he show-cased them to every family much to the embarrassment of Gita.

He went out again, the dog was chained in the backyard and it was silent. "Even it has got used to this ceremony once in a while. Good dog", he thought and smiled.

A car appeared. Another followed. Srinivasan looked on eagerly. They slowed down and halted in front of his gate. Srinivasan went out to greet them. His brother-in-law having heard the cars came out and joined the welcome wagon.

"My son forgot his passport", began a lady, Srinivasan assumed she might be the boy's mother, "We had to go back to get it, we didn't think it would cause this much delay".

"Oh! No problem, its okay", responded Srinivasan politely. "What an excuse ?!", he thought to himself, "A man who supposedly travels regularly by plane doesn't forget something as important as his passport. They just want to assert their superiority as the boy's side". But he didn't mind, he was used to such behaviour. After all, this was not the first marriage that he had to see through. He had experienced such situations during his sister's marriage.

"Raghu is leaving by the evening flight, so he will be leaving for the airport directly from here", continued the lady.

"More show off", Srinivasan thought, "Very well, very well, good thing that we were able to fit this conveniently", he said.

He led them inside and seated them. A special chair was reserved for the boy and he was duely seated in it. The lady seemed to be rather pleased by this. She beamed intently at the boy and he in reply sunk his head into his shoulders.

After the introductions, general enquires where carried about. Srinivasan asked if they had any trouble finding the house to which the boy's father replied that he had none. "How can some one not find an address in Jayanagar?" said he, a comment which Srinivasan found very much agreeable, "I used to live here some ten years back and then we bought our own house in Whitefield and so left, but excellent area", the man nodded to himself, not requiring any ones assent. Srinivasan however could not refrain from saying a word or two about his beloved colony and replied "True, true, every thing is so close by and convenient".

Another round of enquires resumed, this time about the ancestry of each other's family. The lady went on to say how they were a very recognised family in their native town of Kumbakonam. Supposedly, the boy's grandfather was a priest in one of the temples there and that sealed the matter. Everyone agreed how great it was to be a temple priest in Kumbakonam. Srinivasan's brother-in-law, a more religious man than Srinivasan, enquired what this priest was called. It was something of the nature of Govindan Iyengar or Ramanujam Iyengar, Srinivasan was not bothered much, but his brother-in-law immediately said that he recognised him and went on to explain in detail how he did so. The boy's father was very much pleased. He seemed to a rather content man. The very fact that his possible daughter-in-law could be from Jayanagar filled him with great enthusiasm.

As his brother-in-law went on about his story, Srinivasan quickly saw how many people accompanied the boy. This was a very important matter. He had theorized that if the boy's family were accompanied by many relatives it clearly meant that the boy's parents were not so sure about their choice and so they brought in as many of their relatives to get a second (third or even fourth) opinion. On the other hand, if only his immediate siblings or aunt/uncle came along, it meant that the parents had pretty much made up their mind and brought the said aunt/uncle just in case they missed some fine detail.

In the current gathering, he found that it was the latter case and was very much relieved. Only the boy's elder brother and his wife, a rather stout woman, and his aunt and come along. "Right, they are pretty much sure then. Good thing. Now if only Gita likes the boy".

The boy in question was typical of his generation. Spectacles decorated his face, a sign of intensive coaching during his +2 days for various entrance exams; He wore a stripped full sleeved shirt, most probably his Monday wear to the Software company where he worked; In his hand was a rather large mobile phone, with all features squeezed in so that he could work even without his laptop; The sides of his head, where there should have been some hair, was as smooth as a cricket ball just before the match started. And he felt rather lost, now that he was not in a cubicle. "Well, if Gita likes him, I will also learn to like him", thought Srinivasan.

Presently, his sister came out with the snacks and as he had already smelt, the delectable vadai too. She was known in her whole family for the vadai and coconut chutney.

Srinivasan and his brother-in-law helped in serving them. The boy's family immediately realised that these were the work of a master chef and the mother asked promptly

"Has your daughter made these ?", to which the aunt said "No, no, these, I have made. But don't worry, Gita is a very good cook, but she generally makes North-Indian type dishes. By the time she is married I would have taught her everything about our cooking". Gita who was just at the threshold of the kitchen made it a point to give her aunt a nice shout once this inspection was over. The ladies made enquires about the formula of the batter for the vadai and Srinivasan's sister was very much obliging.

Srinivasan, not with standing the suspense, interrupted-"Laxmi, go and see if Gita is ready, will you". His sister having got the hint slipped out.

"Gita, they have almost finished, is the coffee ready ?",asked Laxmi as she went into the kitchen. "Yes", replied Gita, as she poured in the last portion of the beverage into the cups.

Now this, is what Srinivasan looked forward to. He noticed that his daugther had a very convenient, simple and sure-shot way of conveying her approval or disapproval of the boy. In his theory, which he formed after the third bridal inspection, if the coffee was cold, his daugther's decision was "I don't like him, let him drink this as fast as possible and get out of here", if it was hot, it meant "Let him be, he seems alright. Let me not hurry".

Presently, Gita came out with the tray.

"This the my girl. Her name is Sulochana. We call her Gita at home", said Srinivasan. Gita served coffee, starting from whom she thought was eldest. When she came to the boy, he whispered a gentle, "Hello". Gita gave a polite smile and said "Hello". The lady seemed very pleased with this effort of her son. It was as if she half-expected him to shy away and wet his forehead with sweat at the sign of the girl.

After having served the boy and his family, Gita turned to her folk. Her uncle got his coffee, her aunt got hers and at last, she served the remaining cup to her father.

With nervous hands, Srinvasan grabbed his cup. He took a sip. He got the verdict. He could have gulped the entire contents of the cup in one shot as if it were lukewarm water, such was its temperature.

Srinivasan's shoulders dropped and he slouched into his chair.

Gita went in without looking back.

"Well, atleast you got to eat the vadai", said a voice from inside him.

It cheered him up and made him sit up straight again.

"Onward Gentlemen! The hunt resumes".

Friendly Restaurant

"Plane Rice" right at the top. Wonder how they prepare it ?

Ads

Why the skull mark ??

Enemy problems? What is that?

100 Km ride

Last year on new year day, I cut my leg on a stone near a water fall in Kemmangundi. That was the start. The entire year has been been bad w.r.t health.

So I became superstitious.

This time I wanted to make a good start.

So Vindya and I went on our first 100 km ride.

I started off at about 4pm and was on the NICE road towards Mysore Road by 4.30pm.

Forty minutes, from Bannerghatta Road to Mysore road.

It was the road, village side and the Bullet. At 60 kmph the sound like a metronome. Vah!

thub thub thub thub thub thub thub thub thub thub thub thub ........

Strangely, she won't go over 70 kmph. I guess she needs more time, thats all.

I stopped at a few places to get pictures of the country side, so to say. But as frustBoy would remember I am hopeless at photography, so they didn't come out well.

I got on the Mysore Road and rode on to Bidadi. When Bidadi came, I recognized the Tea-stall where I had tea the last time I rode out so far out on the Bullet. So, I thought let us go a little further today. By the way, our pleasure loving Swami Nithyananda has his ashram in Bidadi.

I reached Ramanagara (I know that because a big board said "Silk City Ramanagar Welcomes you" ) and kept going. As I reached the center of the town I was stopped by a traffic signal, the first one after I crossed IIM Bengaluru. So I said to Vindya "Guess we are back to civilization" and decided to head back.

I have a sentiment of drinking tea before taking a U-turn. Also makes remembering easy the next time I go through there.

Just after leaving Ramanagar the Mysore Road Kamat comes up on the other side of the road. I could have had a nice coffee there but the sight of all Yuppies on FZ-16s and i10s prevented me from going in. Moreover, there was lot of crowd, so by the time I got my coffee it would be late. Added to this, my sentiment is with tea. Luckily, right opposite to Kamat there was a tiffin stall. The guy had only barota and Anna-sambar in his menu. I opted out and was content with the tea. I drank tea, took two photos of Vindhya and headed back.

On my way back, I took these pictures of the Gabar Singh Hills of Ramanagara (in case you didn't know Sholay was shot here).

One wonderful thing was that, on my way back I spotted a Brahminy Kite flying over me. A very beautiful bird. If you see it, you will agree. I took it as a sign. Sign of good things. More rides to come this year I guess.

Unfortunately, I caught the traffic returning to Bengaluru (from Mysore) on my way back and had a really horrible time until I came up to the Banashankari Ring Road.

Total 3 hours.

For those of you who say 50 up+ 50 down = 100 doesn't count, I say, get your ass hit.