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.

Namma Naadu Karnataka

I wrote this poem for a poetry competition in our company on the occasion of Karnataka Rajyotsava (state formation day) celebration. The topic for the poem was "Namma Naadu Karnataka" which means "Our land Karnataka". The poem is written from the perspective of an outsider who has come to Bengaluru merely to earn a livelihood and doesn't feel a sense of belonging. Hope it makes sense.

What is Karnataka ?

Karnataka is Bangalore,

its glittering malls,

fashionable girls and expensive shops,

its I.T parks,

full of ambitious men and women

with money they don't know where to spend.

its age old colonies,

where old couples walk in the parks

and learn to send e-mails to sons abroad.

its many sprawling gardens,

which have been reduced to specks

in the name of development.

its majestic Vidhana Soudha,

in the news for all wrong reasons.

its numerous eateries,

which dot the city

never leaving me hungry.

its jammed roads,

ever choked with increasing traffic

crying out for help.

its new express-ways,

trying to connect an ever growing city.

Wait, What is Karnataka to you ?

To me ?

Well, it is just a place where I came to work.

Then where is your home ?

My home is where I grew up.

My home is where my friends are.

My home is where I sleep peacefully every night.

My home is where I am welcome.

My home is where my mother awaits me.

Have not you grown eating at all the eateries?

I have.

Do you not have friends in all the I.T parks?

I do.

Have you not slept peacefully in the age old colonies?

I have.

Well, I say, you are ever welcome here,

in my land,

The land of Karnataka.

I am also you mother.

And I too wait for you,

to embrace me

and call me your home.

PPT Art

Produced in a one and half hour long boring presentation in the company.

The way home

Traffic jam on Inner Ring Road,
Low battery in my phone,
Neighbours asleep.
Bus moved forward,
only to hit the brake again.
The weather seams gloomy,
The road is covered with white smoke.
Cyclist ride on pavements,
meandering through the pedestrians.
My Eyes close.
The signal at Eijipura.

My eyes open.
I am in Koramangala.
Beautiful girls,
Accompanied by ungrateful pricks.
How decorative a sex they are?
Yuppies in i10s jam the road.
The signal at Forum.

The bus zips through the road.
The lady gets down,
She knows 4 languages.
Senseless drivers overtake fom the left.
Every one is an hurry.
Pork shops, mutton stalls, Barota kadai,
and a hi-tech gym
The signal at Adugudi.

Bosch's playground, the marble shops
begin to decorate the road on either side.
Two wheelers squeeze in where ever they can.
No one turns off their engine.
Exhaust fume fill the area.
The bus inches forward.
The signal at Mico.

Diary Circle flies past,
no big trouble today.
Only to meet the buses from Electronic City.
Buses from Infosys,
line up on the fly-over.
People inside,
as frust as I am.
Relatives of patients,
have tea and bun.
The narrow road,fed by two entries,
stands choked.
"No more", it says.
But who listens?
God Damn yuppies with i10s.
The signal at NIMHANS.

Two left turns and I get off.
Boys cruising on RX-100s,
Labourers cool off at the bakeries.
Old muslim men sit together after namaz.
1st main ,
Then 2nd cross.
I have reached my home.
Alas,no one is expecting me.

Weird Experience

As you know any typical sotware engineer (or for that matter even school children and bank employees these days) has an I.D card dangling from their neck. I have roped in Trisha to give you an example. Clap clap.
My company has also provided me one such I.D card. I have to flash it at the speed gates, at the entrance of my office, to get in or out of the building.
The other weekend I was at 4th Block doing the usual weekend "sight-seeing".
Shown below is one of the entrances to the complex. As you can see the bars are to prohibit two-wheelers from entering the shopping area.


As soon as I approached them, my hand automatically went towards my chest and I pulled an invisible I.D card, placed it at the top of the bar and waited a second for the speed gates to open.
When I realised what I was doing, I could not help laughing at myself. What has this software life done to me? Reflex and all is okay, but this is more like habit. Have I become so accustomed to the software way. May be I am just making too much of a little thing. Too much work these days. That's all.That's what my team-mates also said when I related this incident to them.
Must Rest.

Vandals in Safware World

This was taken on my floor's coffee area. The picture is one which is stuck on every Coffee Day coffee machine. Some unfortunate soul, frustrated by bug-fixing seems to have done this. The man looks particularly funny. Reminds me of someone from school.

Introspection

This is me.
When I look at this face in the mirror, I am encouraged to think "Not bad". It is by all means desirable,or so I like to think (in front of the mirror that is).
I think with this face I should be roaming with my arms around one or two pretty things. Okay,its not good to refer to girls as things I suppose but that is the point. I think, if I throw the bait I am sure to reel in something (some girl i.e., again no disrespect). If I take an aim I can hit the target. I stand a good chance in the market, if at all I choose to put myself in it. Bottom line is I think I can score.
So with this self-motivation and self proclaimed handsomeness I step outside. I go to Jayanagar 4th Block Shopping complex. I shall describe this place some other time
but that is where I go to do my weekend sight-seeing (girls, in case you are a chomu). One can see many type of females here. Maal babes, Babes, girls, young women. Girls just married dragging a rather tried looking guy behind them; girls just out of college; girls just into college; family aunties with two kids held by one hand each, uncle following as far away as he can.
As I roam around that complex all my motivation, all my self-dappa gets punctured.
The guys who actually have their arms around one or two pretty things are hunk dudes
who wear light coloured, plain T-shirts which stops just before their underwear patti and their underwear patti stops right were their jeans begins. Every hair on their
head points in different directions and they all carry a bag which goes over their shoulder and covers their bottom (I call them muddi bag). If not these Yo dudes, it is the cheeku faces with spectacles like Shah Rukh Khan in Mohabatein. I comfort myself by saying that those girls who are with such boys are cunning and manipulative,they are just hanging around him so that they can waste his money on coffees and cool-drinks. I may be wrong but just to comfort myself.The guys themselves are idiots who think having a girl around them is a prestige factor.They are both immature. Lite.
Okay, what about the mature women then? I look around for those. They also have some man's arm around their shoulder. These men have either no hair or very little hair on their head. Meaning tension from work. They have a Honda City car in which they take the lady out which means lots of money and they all have a tummy jutting out from over their belt which means no time for exercise. They all wear dull plain full sleeves and khaki trousers or XL T-shirts to hide the afore mentioned tummy. They look like they have been called just to carry the bags. This route to female company requires a lot of money, success and, most importantly, alteast one marrige. I don't want that in near future. Moreover according to my horoscope if I get married before I am twenty-nine the women will die early ( It is also mentioned in the same horoscope that I will grow a tummy. Amazing, the number of thing a computer software can predict).
Sometimes I see a normal couple with the lady carrying one of the child in her arms while the other child walks briskly in small steps to keep up with the father. I look at them and feel that they just got used to each other. They were put together by their respective parents and they just stayed on for lack of better option. On one side I feel happy for the two adults because they have each other's company.When one of them is depressed or gloomy or happy he/she has one person who is sure to hear them out and come to their aid or share their joy. On the other side I feel terrified to think that that is the only way to obtain a companionship in life. Companionhip which one can trust and depend on. I don't want to convey the idea that there is something wrong or incorrect with or terrifiying about our arranged marriage system however. It seems to have worked out well for us till now. It just seems pitiful to think that I might find my companion in a room full of silk saree clad aunties and "coffee pramaadam" uncles. Considering my brought up and family record I see this the most probable path to female companionship, if I want one that is.
Coming back to the 4th Block scene, sometimes I spot the older version of this couple in a Maruti 800 or in a Premier Padmini driving slowly back to their home after buying the week's supply of vegetables. They don't talk much to each other even while shopping because each knows the other down to the last detail. The old man knows where she will buy the leafy vegetables, where she will get the potato and when it time to buy the ghee. She also knows which vegetables the man likes and which ones he has to eat even if he doesn't like them. She knows how long it will be before the man loses his patience and starts whining about getting back into his easy-chair.To think they were also put together by their parents and that they too stuck to each other for lack of better option but in the end had each other right into their old age is quite heartening. This is what restores my faith in the arranged marriage system.
May be I will also get my pretty thing in that way only. May be I will also be stuck to her for lack of better option. But I hope we have each other long enough so that we can also drive around the complex slowly.
Kya ki.

Commemoration

Today is your birthday. Happy birthday.
I have no gift for you. Even if I had I am not in a position to be able to give it to you. But I send out a word of thanks.
Thank you for spending your childhood with me . Thanking for spending all the summer days with me and the rest of our friends. As soon as my mother left for office, I locked the house and ran down the lane where you were ready with the chakka bat(on which Reebok was written with sketch-pen) and plastic ball. I learnt more cricket from you than from Vijay Paul's coaching academy.You introduced me to T.V video games. When it was hot outside we went in and played Mario. Here again you were top class and I had to wait a long time for my turn to come since I used to be Luigi. But this was very rare because no matter how hot it was outside it was always cool under the portico of your house. Moreover you always had fridge water when we needed a break. Then we played on, match after match;individuals, one-tip-one-hand, outside out, wall four, no full covering, fast appeal allowed,connections those were our "rules". Every time you were bowled out by a fast bowl, you came up to ball with vengeance and let loose all the fury on the guy who bowled you out, which was invariably me. No problem, I enjoyed it, I liked bowling more anyway. I have never seen another individual who has played or followed sports with as much dedication as you have. Even when you were unwell in the hospital you asked frustBoy how Wimbledon was going on and if there was any thing worth mentioning. May be we should have come to see you more often. Chod, I don't want to talk about such sad things on your birthday.
You introduced me to cartoons, with all the hype about Johnny Quest and its title music, though it was quite irritating when you sang it aloud all the way back home. Added to this you rammed my bicycle into every lamp post and boulder and yelled "Mountain Baike" (because "Atlas Mountain Bike" was written on the frame of my cycle).
I want to thank you most for giving me my sense of humor. I consider you the founder of my kind of humor and for this I am deeply in debt to you. As I understand, your life was not eventful enough to satisfy your appetite for laughter. So you came up with your own reasons to laugh no matter how insane or idiotic they felt to the rest of us.
Like when Bhakti Agarwal brought rice for her lunch or when Nitin brought sweet bonda or salt-less pulihora or when Aravid brought bread (bread...hahahhaha), when Super tiffin's super tiffin rolled non-stop down two floors and rested where ever it rested, when donkey face went past you, when frustBoy slipped and feel down from his "auto". I could go on writing, and as I recollect the instances which showcase your unique sense of humor I am laughing out loud and heartily. What a life!!!
This is how one should live, so that when people think about them, they laugh and smile rather than feel pitiful or angry or disappointed.
You along with Aravid invented the word "flop" and it was quite amazing to think now how you maintained to stay your course even when you were getting extremely unpopular for criticizing every joke( then every fact, then every statement). Anyway, I have only to thank you for this since my point system is based on this.
Among your other skills which provided no practical value was taking good aim at street dogs. Once I got a dog for myself, I opposed this act but it didn't matter to you.Eating Maggi and licking the plate clean as if no one had eaten in that plate, another habit which I adopted from you. Waiting all day long for frustBoy to turn around so that familyGuy and you could show him the finger; throwing the ball out as soon as it was passed to you while playing basketball (this is courtesy frustBoy); throwing spit-bombs at class-mates - I have never seen a live demonstration but I am told it was very feared by all in your class; making up stories about the girl who lived opposite to your house; running away at the first sign of trouble - standard example for this would be the incident when you called a little boy riding on our pitch a "gandu" and he went and called his mother. You ran away and hid two lanes away along with familyGuy and frustBoy. Gandu saale. When there was dog shit or cow dung on the road you carefully guided us towards it and waiting silently for us to step into it and had a heartily laugh over that for the next week. Sadist gandu.
One incident I will never forget was when you failed in Mathematics and got 85 in English in one of the pre-finals. Everyone in your house was upset that you failed in Mathematics and you tried to console them by showing your marks in English to which your father said "Id enduku, sanka nakadaniki?". Hahahaha. Mori-covering pe khadke mast hassa main.
On the other hand you never gave us many reasons to tease you. You ate your tiffin before anyone could see what you brought and come up with a taunt (though I am told that it was almost always dosa). You never had any bike like “the auto” nor did you slip over anything nor stumble on any edge while in our company. When you joined Intensive Academy we could link you to some Army girl who came on Scooty and get some fun out of it but that didn't last long. Sorry about that. She was very desirable, like all Army girls, I suppose.
Today, I remember all these incidents,you muffled sinister motor laugh, the walk back to home from school, all the afternoon cricket during school days and all the evenings on my terrace where frustBoy and familyGuy joined. I remember how you fell sick and never recovered from the illness. I remember your face as you lay in your hall, happy as ever leaving us all crying and stunned. I have lost many people (and an animal) close to me but the loss of your company is what I miss most. The only consolation is that you are present in all of our jokes since, as I said already, you were the founder of our kind of humor.
I am sure I speak for familyGuy and frustBoy when I say that our lives would have been much more interesting if you were still around. You might also be stuck up in some cubicle like the rest of us and that would have sucked out all the life force that made you what you were. I am glad that didn't happen because souls like yours' are not meant to be bound.
I hope you are flying high above the clouds but stooping down just in time to watch one of us stumble over an edge or slip over some sand or vegetable peel.
Once again happy birthday Anivash. Sonu (hahaha).
Kaisa tha vo.

Opportunity

Lot of work these past few days. I have had to stay till 7.30 or 9 pm sometimes. No rest. I got sick in the meanwhile because of the erratic weather here. Rains when ever it feels like. The Big Guy seemed to have lost it for while. The doctor gave me anti-biotics for this normal fever and drained whatever energy was left in me. So I decided to get healthy and eat a fruit bowl everyday in our company's canteen. On the very first day of this new mission I saw a pretty girl waiting for the snack she had ordered just after me. Grilled cheese sandwich,it was. Not one of those anorexic types I guess or maybe she missed her lunch, I saw her send one dahi-puri down just a few minutes ago. I got my fruit bowl and sat down to eat it. She took a seat at the table opposite to mine facing me. Then I saw her face clearly, front view, no obstructions. She reminded me of someone from college. Some girl that is. That girl whom she remined me of was my darling in college. You know, the one favourite girl in college, the girl you would pattafy if at all you got into that business.
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Suddenly, I felt this surge of courage in me.No, not courage. Some weird thing like feeling. I got up and I went up to her and said "Can I sit here?". She looked up from her cheese grill in a rather confused way. She stared inanely at me. I took advantage of this and sat down. I didn't wait. I said "You remind me of someone from my college. She looked very much like you. Rotund face, chubby cheeks.Very pretty(I am sure I saw a smile at this point)........ I just wanted to tell you this because it is always pleasant to remember someone or something from college. And on a rather dull evening of writing code that didn't work this is quite a happy moment."
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We ate the rest of our respective snacks in silence in our own company and she was first to leave.