cat licks the cream

What in the heck are these meters for in ricks?

2011-11-24T03:26:00.000-08:00

I have always wondered what the function of the non-functional meter in autorickshaw is? Other than the fact that it has been installed to comply with the rules of the RTO. It is yet another showpiece decorating the vehicle. It is positioned to look at us and positions us to look at it. I don't derive any vicarious pleasures looking at it though it might be guffawing about my being trapped as a victim of fleecing. There are brand new meters enclosed in leather jackets and they spew only zeros - they have been baptised to be so. Meters just for the lark of it. The only vantage point I can wildly think of is passengers learning how to drive hard bargain. New comers to the city, however, throw in the towel and pay what is demanded.

Is the government not wary of it? That is a presumptuous supposition to make. To say it is in complicity with 'taking for ride' rickshaws is not an understatement. This is particularly so in Tamil Nadu. The meters are manufactured to be installed in vehicles that do not utilise them. The manufacturer is benefited, the government through some means or the other gets its share of booty. The auto driver in turn rips the passenger off. But the meter does not work.

Does it show the government's lack of potency in grappling with and resolving this issue? I am waiting to see if one of these governments will show any gutsy act to turn the situation around. Or does it think the public has only one dumb choice of paying the money asked for while travelling in an auto. From a means to make money, rickshaws have become a means to milk money. A lakh autos in Tamil Nadu and a lakh meters that won't work are bought and installed; lakhs of rupees netted by the manufacturers and acute waste of time and energy by RTO inspectors knowing well that these meters will not be utilised. Hoodwinking the public perhaps starts from the pretentious perfection of the officials. Let us think about booting out the looters.

The strong arm tactics - Power and protest

2011-07-19T20:29:00.000-07:00

We, the public at large, see a big boulder ahead when it comes to questioning injustice. It is Danny Boyle's 127 Hours crisis for us and certainly we need to break ourselves from self-imposed or at best socially-constructed inhibiting rocks. Look at the kids in Orissa (Odisha) taking on the corporate-hungry government that is hell-bent on snatching the land of the people. The kids have not gone to schools for two weeks because they are on constant vigil not to let the lathi-wielding police grab the land away. Apparently, every one of the kids knows why she/he is there to defend the land. They want POSCO to end in a fiasco. An act of courage and determination. Such a spirit is distant and remote among educated human beings. Everyone lives in a gated community concerned only about one's own personal needs and gratifications. Have we buried our selfless attitude?

POSCO is not the only example. Let us look at it from the other side. Of late, the newspapers and media are rife with baddies' news. Strauss-Khan, the IMF chief, and his scandal; the downfall of Rupert Murdoch and billion-dollar media empire News Corporation; and the 2G spectrum scam. All those who were in their heydays now face the wrath of the public. Some incarcerating in the jail and some facing the looming danger of being caught anytime. Riding on the crest of power waves, they are now caught in a high tide. Unfortunately, those in the power who are inclined to committing omissions and commissions without fear fail to realise that it is tough to sail strong avoiding headwinds.

Stomping on others feet, willful attempt to tarnish the images of other people, violating human rights, taking vindictive actions, being unfair to subordinates are some of the characteristics that define those at the helm in political and other responsible positions. These acts are the result of perennial hangover caused by 'I am demigod' syndrome that creeps in and gets sinewy in their mind blocking their natural instincts to think rationally.
continued

The high-handedness of hot-headed souls

2011-07-14T05:16:00.000-07:00

Shrinking skin is a sign of sterile cells that refuse to re-grow and burnish. One is growing old sounds a bit tough on heart. It’s time to chase it away or chase the time trying to fill your soul and life with all you could. A victim to the same temptation, I am back here after working hard and consequently lounging for a while. The best one could do is lie about and relax come what may. Just then, I am intrigued by a question: Can one remain in that buoyant spirit all the time? A great wind blows and you are ransacked. More often, a great wind is generated and you have to beat the odds. There is less glamour in that job when you have to confront people seated in higher positions with the responsibility of functioning democratically shy away from ‘democracy’ and veer towards ‘demon-cra(z)cy’.

Reflecting on my nature, in such circumstances, I would either flee for a better environment and least would I think of braving the person whose tyranny can be tsunami-strong. It's not out of fear but under the cloaked excuse of 'I have better fish to fry'. Admittedly, we are quite comfortable sitting and watching and not protesting. The activist rigour is dormant and we are fine with the trends. Let chips fall where they may. But, are we not turning insular to impetuosity? Map our insularity and the honchos’ reckless behavior of treating us with disdain and what emerges is the past slavery. Are we going back to the old days of anarchy?

A remedy is in place only when we discuss, debate and engage in politically correct activism. I do not see any connect between the old school professionals (who are old enough to relax) and us who ought to be having the fire in the belly to rebel and revolt against those who fear not the power of the critical mass. Why do we have to do it? To get our acts together to move out of the ‘dysfunctional’ system that has trapped us within the subdued boundaries of ‘work’ and silenced us taking away the freedom of expression from our conscience. Some are comforting themselves for planetary changes - the person in question has given me life. It is an ugly form of negotiation with life and self. Good to be loyal to one who was considerate of you. But, certainly not at the cost of ignoring injustice.
….continued

Jitu gave us jitters

2010-06-02T14:49:00.000-07:00

Jitu wearing white shirt and sneakers playing see-saw opposite Rinoy wearing red colour shirt

Well, much as I would like to squeeze all fun we had in Ooty in a series of pieces at regular intervals, clash of interests prevented me from posting for a while.

Jitendra Jitu makes smiling easy enough to embarrass me. But, one is conned if Jitu is to be trusted only for his disarming smile. He is different in different environments. I have heard his classmates telling me that he walks into the class with a dash of style quotient – scooping his hair back with his hands. When I turn, he turns into a passive student ready to listen to me.

He threw many a surprise at Ooty. He was different as usual and got enthused when he reached Ooty. After he got into the vehicle, he took a window seat and left us all dancing. He dozed off. The next day after returning from SIMs Park in Coonoor and a couple of places, we reached the cottage much early. A team of boys and Suja played cricket while Nathy and Munnadiyan played shuttle. I was running between the two games exercising unsaid control by snatching bats as and when I feel like.

Half an hour into the game, Jitu who was watching IPL came out to see us playing. He would have spent a short time and by then a bad news struck us. The motor was not working and hot water was not available for use. Jitu disappeared again and was indoors. In the middle of playing cricket, Jitu stuck his neck out with the room door opened ajar. He cried ‘Could someone please get me some water?’ His desperate need was understood and Rinoy fetched him a bucket of water. That’s when we realised Jitu was ailing from loose stomach. For long, he never ventured out.

When we were resting on the lawn, we heard ‘hey how are you?’ Obviously, it was from the open terrace above us. The terrace that stood on equal footing with one of the rooms, the other two being at the next level. It was none other than Jitu, who stood wearing a towel. Everyone, Nathy in particular, screamed at him. Someone motioned him to spare the crowd and he brought his legs close and wished us good luck. He went on inviting our attention - hi, hello. He ran away and after 10 minutes when all of us were engaged in some activity, he again emerged.

This time too, he was wearing the same towel provided by the cottage. He performed a magic. Well, now look at me..He removed the towel and even before he stripped it off a boom of alarming shout broke through the chilly weather. Noooooo.. He stood there smiling as ever and he had another towel wrapped around. ‘Please Jitu, stop this nonsense’. That was a frail cry and he removed the next towel. Now, everyone expected him to ditto it for the third time. He created curiosity and ran to the room which indicated that he disappeared to save his face.

When it rained, it poured..in Coonoor

2010-06-02T14:43:00.000-07:00

Suja had two problems in the tour. She wanted cardamom tea and she always kept one of us on tenterhooks (for what?). At Lambs Rock, Coonoor, we had Chocolate tea and cardamom tea. Suja had two to keep her strong and going. And we had finished drinking, we found a small group of models missing – Nathy, Anbarassi, Vasanthi. Along with them, the bodyguard Munnadiyan also went missing. We got into the van and waited. After five minutes, they arrived running down from the tea estate. Till saw the photos, I did not know they went there to pluck tea leaves by donning the role of a labourer.

We started and the signboard said 4 kms to go to reach Dolphin Nose. As we proceeded, sky turned dark and it started raining. It was pelting and pouring. The vehicle snaked through the narrow road and the rain was so harsh that the driver could see nothing ahead. Still, he persisted. Half way down and right before us, a tree uprooted and blocked the road. In retrospect I thought it was good that the models went to the tea estate and we started late. Otherwise, we would have been held up in Dolphin Nose as the tree was removed only the next day. So, we could not see it and we returned.

First day in Coonoor

2010-05-24T11:07:00.000-07:00

The first day in Ooty and we hit Kothagiri around 7.30 a.m. We stopped near a junction and I had to call up my student to know about the cottage he had booked for us. There was some delay in contacting the person who was supposed to have reached the spot and guided us to the destination which we later found nestled deep in the wombs of the green mountains.

As we waited, our starved stomachs cried for fillings. We got down and had tea even as the nip in the cold wind took away the steam from the hot tea. My students-Arathi, Suja and a few boys – Prabahakaran and Jitendra saw spherical brown ‘gulgul’ and had them in their raw mouth breathlessly.

As the wait grew longer, some of us gave our teeth a clean brush and coaxed others too to follow suit. Some did and Suja and Arathi did not relent. Finally, we thought of visiting a few places before we could plonk us in the cottage. But, before we could reach I got a call and 15 minutes from then we reached a cottage.

It was wonderful and those of you who want to unwind and have your feet up, a nice getaway to be in. Three rooms, one big and two medium sized, with well-furnished bamboo sofas and television sets greeted us. There is also space for camp fire, a place to play shuttle and we had no hassles occupying the cottage. It was a fabulous deal to boot.

By 11 a.m. we had taken shower and proceeded to Coonoor. On our way, we had our first meal, meticulously prepared food brought by girl students. SIMS park in Coonoor was a rollicking experience. It was our crowd that made our experience in each place all the more fun-loving. Running and blocking each one’s view while photos are being taken, Suja on the phone for almost an hour, Arathi with her strange gestures (please find out from the photograph), Sreenath disappearing with my mobile phone and indulging in taking professional snaps of flowers, and so on. Nathy became uncontrollable when she saw the park and stopped small kids playing the slide. Jitu gave it a shot and burnt his back. He banged fiercely and threw himself out tottering.

It was sunny when we entered the park but after 30 minutes drizzle drove us to shelter. We took three to four group photos and thought it was time to go to Dolphin’s nose. We would have travelled 3 kms down the road and could see a blanket of tea plantations in the middle of nowhere. At least, it appeared so. I saw vehicles pulling up to take pictures as the background looked just mystical. We said we will take photos on our way back. We reached Lamb’s rock and stopped to take a few pictures. The view was good and the domination of clouds echoed the sense of fright in the deep pit down. I guess it is a suicide point too. The fence suggested that. Except Suja, all of us stood against the fence. She secured a safe berth in front of us. She suffers from height syndrome or what you call vertigo.

Did we go to Dolphin’s Nose? More on that in the next blog.

Funny 19, me and Ooty

2010-05-19T10:01:00.000-07:00

I took a bad rap before I could convince some hostellers to join us for the tour. Later they realised it was a roller-coaster trip filled with fun. It was a clandestine hush-hush private trip with only one teacher – I pity those students and my friends who called me up to confirm that it was me:).

Deciding on a date after exams, I took off with my dearest bunch of kids of II MA Mass Communication to Ooty. One of my young colleagues was to join me the trip but had a pride of a reason to opt out of it. His wife is in the family way and he cannot perform Assamese dance.

The vehicle was ready and what I thought to be a hush-hush trip had already created rumour mills and everyone darted a quite look at me. I pouted a smug and changed the topic. It was time for departure and Suja who was still fermenting in vexation as she could not get her wish done the previous day took it out on me. She was grouchy and she said the vehicle should have a banner reading: HERE WE GO, THE FUNNY 19 and THE GRUMPY FATSO. The students and the teacher. I still cannot understand why she forgot to include me??!! By the way, the latter was the label she accorded to me sometime back and I accepted the honoris causa.

Nathy was in charge of organising it and in spite of last minute pull outs by a couple of them, the tour was on. As the vehicle started leaving Pondicherry, the energy erupted in the midst of songs of different hues. They have been asking me to dance for long since I started handling class. And I did it though I could not perform the moon walk Suja always wanted to see me do. Kid, the platform was not right for me!!

Rinoy was meticulous and the moment he got into the vehicle his head was titled up and eyes closed deep in sleep. He would do the same after bathing in the cottage and on the way to a spot. Slowly, the legs stopped shaking and heads started shaking bottom, up, left and right. All were asleep.

Let alone the dawn of a new life for them, when it was 6.30 a.m. we all got enervated again. I could see the vehicle climbing and heading towards Kothagiri. One of my students from this lovely place had booked us a cottage in the middle of nowhere with a stream running down the hill and a place for camp fire.

We settled down and took shower in the sweet looking cottage and left for Coonoor before ordering for dinner Chicken, Chappathi and tea. Of course, camp fire too. continued

Only 15 days from now dear students???

2010-04-19T13:28:00.000-07:00

I certainly could have downloaded a widget that tells me how long you are going to be with me. As I always tell you and as my friend tells me nothing is permanent in life. It, however, cannot erase memories planted firmly in my mind. I would love to speak my experiences and put it as a podcast before you leave. It was nice of some to come and gift me a glass trophy. I never asked why and for what. In fact, they told me not to disclose. Other students were curious to know. I am bargaining that if they get me a gift they will know who gave it to me. Today, I got three pens in different colours from a student who imitates Rajinikanth.

I was working on a question paper for their final exam and while preparing I felt something wrenching me. I realised it is the last question paper. The one last exam where I will evaluate their performance. My academic drive as usual started flowing like a ripped apart pipe with questions flowing from all sides and the paper filled with questions that are little tough. I sat scratching my head and looked at the questions. On the one hand, students are just expecting to see the exams through and all those who would normally hunker down for grades seem to be giving up. And the one last chance, it is that one last love I have to show on them rather than being branded cruel in last days.

They are busy working on their thesis and I am also working along with them. Working late night, in spite of inconveniences, and helping me and each other – they embody a group I will miss them forever.

The small tiny girl, everyone knows who I am talking about, has no compunctions to sway her hips and do the dance number anywhere. She mimics how others dance and is a good entertainer. She does not mind being made fun of and at best she cries and the moment you utter ‘ice cream’ she wipes her tears and runs with you to the canteen. Never ask her for the TATA DOCOMO number. She is the same one who hit the ceiling and quite sneakily kept the mobile pouch I had given to her back in my bag. All that happened when I shouted at her for being lackadaisical and did not tell her about an opportunity to do internship at UNICEF. She sat frigidly and turned her face away from me. It took a while to see her back in her real colour.

This frail girl cried again on the day of farewell. This time too her face refused to look at me not because she was livid. She could not stand that she was leaving everyone. The fiercest at one instance and the feeble hearted at another time. I will miss her as I won’t have another person to argue and fight with.

She is also funny and I remember a moment when I asked her if she has dates. She looks so weak. Pat came the reply: Dates ..with whom? She is not a bad girl but her ignorance tells she is a go-getter. She asked me today whether the world will come crashing down in 2012. She has many desires and a life she hankers for. I said no. She was happy and added anyway she should be on guard.

I WILL KILL YOU…Isn’t it girl? It’s her catchphrase she targets at me. Take care of your health and keep in touch.

TIME IS SO CRUEL…24 days left

2010-04-09T07:46:00.000-07:00

Hearts are heavy. Eyes are moist. Words are not flowing. Legs refuse to move. The air is still. It is all frozen.

The send off party to my fond students has come too early. Or so does it appear. I was happy watching them come up to the stage and sharing their experience. But, somewhere in the remote abyss of my heart, I am a guest who came into their life late. Yet, I became close to them and I was not expecting their departure. It is a very close batch to me. I have invested my emotional efforts in them.

A few know that I have been counting the days since February 2010. They did not care. Now they do and farewell party made a huge impact. My students spoke with a dash of humour, some gushed with emotion and some came and ran back. I looked into their eyes and my eyes shied away from them. I knew that was their last physical appearance and soon they will be gone.

When my turn came to address them, I got up and felt my legs tied to the chair. I pulled myself out and walked slowly towards the dais. My head down, I felt dizzy; I thrust my hands into the pocket and walked like a zombie and climbed the stairs. A cry of “LION” a name bestowed on me bleated through the hall. The chorus woke me up. And I positioned myself and looked at the darling faces of all my second year students. Curious faces looking intently at me as to what I was going to speak stared with hands cupped on their chins. From the extreme left, I could see them absorbed. I was speechless.

I had cried a day earlier and I had frail courage supporting me to stand and speak. I narrated my experience and the joy I had interacting with my students who are leaving. A student boldly told me once that she would listen to only 25 percent of what I teach and pretend to be listening though there were others too who would do the same but not tell me.

My voice was not booming and I did not try to add zing to my voice. The fact of the matter is I could not. My stomach was getting drained and my heart beat was dipping. I preferred to look at the last row, where juniors were seated. I went on. I did not know what I spoke. I smiled now and then hiding my sombre tone. The pale faces with a glint of ready to peek out tears provided contrast to the atmosphere.

I wanted to speak a lot. There was very little coming. I stopped every now and then and proceeded with studied silence. One of my friends wanted me to put on American accent that I always do in the class. I wanted and I couldn’t. The thought of their departure frayed my nerves. I said GOD BLESS YOU ALL from the bottom of my heart. I thank the Almighty for giving me the opportunity to interact with my students, the best of them in my life. I depended on them and they depended on me. I cared for them as much as they cared for me.

When I completed my speech, I went back to my seat and could not lift my head till the function got over. I did not want to see students as I knew I would be able to control myself. It already started in them. They cried, the girl who said she never would came sobbing. But, I missed one thing, the group photo. I could have taken if I had stayed back.

Things are slowly settling down. I have not and I continue to be in a gloomy mood. I am in and out of it and feel deserted when I do not see students coming to my room. It sounds silly as a student put it ‘It’s emotional blackmailing’ and she certainly hates my grumpy mood. She does not know when I overcome I do it with ease. Anyways, students teach and I learn and that is the pedagogy in these last days. I am trying my best to see they are all placed somewhere and start on the right foot. By the way, I have a plan I will not leak till I release it.

The last ride together- students and me

2010-04-06T12:12:00.001-07:00

As I lay curled up in the tall easy chair uneasily, my mind spins into a reverie. A pleasant past that I have spent with my students (please wait for their photographs to appear). I feel a choke in my heart followed by a chill in my brains. The crest and trough of sadness and joy bob like the boat on a high tide. I have never felt so much for a bunch of students who are on their way out sooner or later.

Why would I behave so? Absolutely nothing! It is a world where things move on without stopping for none. What perhaps could have triggered the bonding could be the fact that I handled two papers in the previous semester. Well, I was then an instructor trying to push the limits with content, exercise and more. There was limited fun and they would be cursing me for not letting them know the cheery side of university life. Still, many bunked classes and I hardly cared who attended and who did not.

This semester, however, has turned out to be different. I see them as friends and souls that hanker for fun and work. If I had thought they were timid, they proved me wrong. Girls would pull a fast one and crack jokes quite spontaneously. Jokes flew from mouths that would open for a ‘wings’ chicken-perhaps like spreading wings. A boy student called me at night and tried to fool me saying he was calling from SURYAN FM. Not knowing that his voice sounded like ‘Please tell us what song do you want, Mama will beat me’.

There is a student whom I have never known to be a high-decibel screamer. Her giggle jangles your nerves, her laughter breaks the hum of the AC in the classroom and it is her sob that makes sweet sound. There are boys in the same class who dare not tickle or tease her. Fear factor: She is a wily scream-er. She is brave though she needs lot of iron?!!! For that matter, the quietest girl in the class gave a boy student a marathon chase because he tried applying chalk powder on her face. Poor boys, they have many horror stories. One day, they want to build on the storyline and make a compelling movie out of it.

They dance when it is time for dissertation. Not when the teacher is in the class. The dance steps are inimitable. Being media students, they have captured in mobile phones (we may upload it in the blog soon).

He has been reading a lot from the book and palms. Not getting the drift of it? He is handsome and a no-nonsense chap. He feels the palm and tells girls their hands are nice!! It was hair-rising to see him enter the class without his stuffy black candyfloss between the nose and mouth. Moustache gone with the wind. He sheltered himself in my room in the department till a shadow of it grew after two days.

MIB – I am not talking about Men in Black. Men in Battery Car. The twosome can be seen travelling in the battery car because they are like kids. I am sorry if I have made you believe that. The two have a bigger cause to wander in the battery car. Want to know who they are. Here is the clue: One likes to be a cop, the other wears a cap. One more commonality: they have a removable tattoo on the back that they always wear over their shirt. It is filled with letters and sometimes they claim they are here in the university for that.

I have less space or it is getting longer that I will have to drop the pen here. I have sailed with them in the same boat. It has come a long way. My journey in it will continue. They are taking diversions. For good. Forever. Not to return. Bidding goodbye – Me to them and they to me.

But the 12 month old memories will gallop in my mind and it can only end when my brain crashes. The students gave the best more than what I could give them in terms of knowledge. I know they will turn into pros in their chosen fields. They have it in them what it takes to be a leader, content writer, producer, SEO, SMM strategist and what not. Feel free to contact me guys and gals. Never forget these days as they could become a fodder to chew on. Like when you are driving in your car, flying to the US, in a shooting spot relaxing and briefing artists, sipping a coffee or anywhere.

I WISH YOU DEAR ALL OF YOU THE BEST IN YOUR LIFE. MY PRAYERS ARE WITH YOU AS MUCH AS I AM WITH YOU ALL.

My Birthday Party 2010 in Pondicherry

2010-04-04T02:30:00.000-07:00

Even at a period of turmoil caused by an interminable damage nearly a year ago, I have been living more than a quiet life. My involvement in teaching and my association with students have given me the succour and great relief to manage mental crisis. And the recent birthday celebration lifted my sinking morale and I wondered the world is not all rot and rigged.

As I write the piece I am haunted by the worst ever crisis that happened to me. It suffocates my thoughts and cramps my ideas. Let the loss never overshadow you, I keep telling me. Live in the present and I do in the midst of my students and friends of Pondicherry University (Batch 2008-1010), the first one at that.

This is perhaps my second birthday bash celebrated by a small but attached group of 19 students. They have become my pals whom I scold and sing with. For the first time ever, I mingled with students no-holds-barred. I don’t have any option as I have been deprived of something valuable. I thought I rather take it from students and they gave – love, affection and much more. I enjoyed teaching and want to be part of their growth in life.

Oh, I know it is getting mushy. Well, on my birthday, I had to call couple of my students to remind them to wish me. Yeah, righto! Later they wished me. When I called up one of my erstwhile students and told her to wish me citing the occasion, she quipped “I will extend the same courtesy to you when it comes to my birthday”.

The day I came in, students walked into my room as usual and held a nonchalant face greeting diplomatically. I had not known, by then, the plans they had up their sleeves. And, they had planned it a week ahead. They even conducted a sting operation entering my room. Geewhiz! I was not accepting cash from anyone!!!

I was not in my purple patch on the day and I wanted to handle class. When I entered the classroom, a mild pall of gloom hovered around me. My students remained calm and were willing to listen to me. But, something stopped the flow of my thoughts. I started and stuttered. I fumbled and mumbled. I went on however. I left the classroom with heavy heart. What is it I lost? Much and everything. I tried to clear the air, kill the bad mood with dynamite.

Slowly into the afternoon, a group of students came in and asked me to go with them to the classroom. I asked them what and guessed what it could be. I felt uneasy but I had to go. Other faculty members had arrived and the atmosphere made me little nervous. I was touched by the cake with my name on the icing. A moment of pause and I did not know what to do. I felt glued to where I was standing. Students gathered around me and I expected them to sing the birthday song.

To my surprise, they played a presentation with my pictures captured in a mobile camera. A few students had entered my room and placed the mobile phone on the table trying to capture me in video. That was truly fantastic. And, the song was pricey. They told me to light the candle that blossomed when I lit it up and blew them to hear the b’day song humming continuously. And then went up the bunting - a colourful shoot out of ribbons. I floated along with them in the air for some time. When I came down to the ground, the knife was thrust into my hands and I cut the cake and gave the first piece to Reader Dr Arulselvan, Radhika and others. The rest was a smearing campaign with chocolate painted on my face and that of students. One student came forward and said cutely: I ate you. I blinked for a while and she told me she ate the piece with my name on it. Probably, the student hates me the most when she told it with triumph nerves gleaming on her face.

What I have lost is made up for what I do. My deeds are recognized by some who are not very closely related to me and that is just enough impetus to contemplate doing something for my society. In all, in your life, never get emotionally attached to anyone. Am I speaking like spiritually starched leader? Yes and No.

THANKS FOR THE BIRTHDAY PARTY. I know I owe all these students a big party. You don’t have to wait for long. It’s coming.

World Water Day (how is it connected to me?)

2010-03-21T02:53:00.000-07:00

I never get thrilled about celebrating my birthday because it just reminds me of the project plan I have to draft for the coming years. More so, when somebody is growing old, as responsibilities and commitments heap and a certain anxiety mixed with expectations seize you by the collar. Pretty odd, but nothing much to lament though!

World Water Day and I for one seem to be having a bond now. My friend asked if I would booze being a resident of Pondicherry. Certainly not my buddy as it is not my wont. The two on the same day gives me a kick as I mean some serious social business on this day. So, how about launching a campaign for identifying the ways and means to source and preserve the precious basic necessity of everyone’s life?

A lot has been argued about and much water has flown above the bridge. I guess, there needs to be a punctilious effort on our part to stop doing all that depletes water or ground table resources. I know the difficulty in placing order for a water bottle and getting it after two days either due to high demand for the product or whatever the reasons could be. We are forced to live a desert-life in plains. And when I want to return the can/bottle, the shopkeeper insists I produce a pure white bottle and not the blue tinted one. Water is blue but water bottle shouldn’t be.

You are left with the choice of having to buy Bisleri for Rs 50 as two litre bottle won’t be adequate. Water is pricey. On this day, (I am not saying I am pricey) I am happy and not so happy. I, these days, move along with the stream. Life is a stream that is cold and hot, that is shallow and deep, pure and grimy, flowing and gooey, smooth and coarse, soft and hard…I don’t want to add to these dichotomies. Well, I can simply say nothing is permanent. If you take pride in saying somebody is close be bold enough to accept twin-tower like debacles. Of course, never let the agents remain calm. They should suffer if you are the victim. I am sorry to take such a wild and not-so-composed resolution on this day.

From permanence….I have jumped jobs trying to jockey up my position each time I shift my footprint. People wonder looking at my resume and share quick eye contacts tossing back and forth restlessly as I had kicked jobs. But, I feel they are wrong to assume if I am to be judged on the basis of my impermanence. That is life and its chief characteristic too.
Continued…

Living in the past....I met my student

2010-03-18T10:55:00.000-07:00

Five is not too many for a gang. We took pride when we ‘five’ studying in 12th standard brought ourselves together to have fun, bunk classes and go to dams to jump from scary heights for an adventurous bath. All our names began with S and we just could not pose for a poster like ‘BOYS’ in the flick. We were not great dancers either and loved to be in the thick of action – like watching movies, making fun of teacher and splitting on the side. The teacher I scoffed at caught me red handed in my aunt’s house and I found later that she was my relative. That became a reason for us to become close with her.

Where are my friends now? I see them, couple perhaps, whenever I go to home town. Whenever is as occasional as Cindy Crawford looking the same in her 20s and 40s. We are all grown and have swept two decades behind us. From baggy pants and sloppy shirts, which were fashion statements then, we are jeans-junkies. That apart, networking has not happened. Friends live forever in my mind. I am mentally mushy and like a large pie of melodrama in life. I know nothing moves when I am emotional. But that’s what I am.

Why am I not keeping in touch with them? New friends arrived in life and I flew with the tide. Yet, today, after meeting one of my students, Ninu Thomas who I taught in 2004 in Coimbatore, I feel a surge of interest to prepare a database. A database of all my friends and students. It is never tough to maintain one with the Internet around.

But, Ninu struck me squarely in my head ‘sir, whenever you call me I know that you have a reason’. She said it with typical quote and unquote gestures and laughed incessantly. She added a pain killer ‘sir, I am just kidding’. I came back home and wondered if I have been a purposive and instrumental caller. Yes and nope.

We had a long discussion over lunch and when she saw me she froze for a moment and uttered ‘is that you’? By the way, the absence of moustache did not help her much to figure out my watered down age!!! Sir, you look young without it’. I never asked her if she complimented me or that is how she broke the ice. When we sat for lunch, she admitted she would rather chat and reminisce the past. So, we ordered for a meal and business meal. The first for me and the second for her.

Conversation mill started and topics grew varied. I asked what are the then girl students doing – working or married? She ripped open with a laughter saying that all got married except two. None of them could marry those they loved except one. She could not control herself. Of course, she was not mentioning those who were averse to romance. There was only pair who hit it off. The young lady sitting opposite us could not control smiling though she gave a sideward glance. I was sure her ears were tuned in to our conversation and preferred to taste curd in morsels so that she could snatch most of what we discussed.

I was happy when she told me how well her classmates and juniors are placed. The talk about me handling research for them did come up. Yes, I even made Karthik, who would sit still in the class hands folded in abject respect, do a presentation. Two hours at a stretch, they would not forget me for that and forgive me too. My passion is their pain.

When we left, she said: Next time when I get a call, I know haneef sir and for some purpose. I am delighted to know my then students are one step ahead of me and it is pleasure talking up them and going gaga. It is the best ever satisfaction I have ever had in my life. Nothing matches it. It is long lasting and evergreen. I have decided to network with all my students and build a network of professionals sharing knowledge and living the past. All guys out there, why not make it happen?

A woman knight at night in Chennai

2010-03-12T07:24:00.000-08:00

After five years of stay in Chennai, life has taken a different turn. I have scores to settle with a few. Otherwise, I like the city for its untidiness, noise, the razzmatazz, the peaking mercury and humidity. The reasons are getting more and more.

After spending sometime in a cool and cosy food court ogling at people and pizza, I held my gush of hunger under control and snacked on dosa. The huge building and chairs on the lawn provided perfect setting to build my fantasy beyond what my age could take. Come on, I am after all a human being. My fantasy grew taller than the skyscraper when a tingling voice disturbed my thought.

Squashing it, I came out and my friend picked me up from there. He promised me to drop me at a place from where I could take a share auto. The fare is easy on my wallet and it was not as close as he described it to me. We were wriggling through traffic and reached the destination after half an hour. My energy has drained not having had a square meal (certainly not 50-50 squarish biscuits) since morning.

My friend waited at the bus stop to see me off as I said I will scold and curse him if I do not reach home soon. Share autos shied away from us. They did not stop and a few hips bulged out with no space for them inside. Please, they were men. As we saw vehicles scurrying past us, we noticed a girl who perhaps thought she was walking along India Gate.

She was busy reading with books in her hand, a pen to mark. Have you heard about multi-tasking? She was a classical example performing too many rites at a time. She was listening to a song-she had her head phones on, she was reading and making gestures with her pen and her head nodding – God only knows if it was a discotheque jig for the music she was listening to or her tacit acceptance that she has understood what she was reading. On the move on a busy road. She took her eyes off the book to make sure she was not going to bump into someone. Crazy it is, her dedication for education continues on the road. Girls, are you parading your interest?

When I turned back after sometime to see where she was, I found her not. She had disappeared into darkness. I wondered if she had switched on a torch light or had wound the forehead flash light. This perfectly is adaptive learning. If you have not come across this concept in educational methodology using the Internet and mobile, she gives a perfect explanation. In the yesteryears, our grandpas and dads used to study on the roads but they were sitting under the lifeless dim lamp posts. But, here is she who studies on the road walking. What an accomplishment? As long as nothing happens to her in the process??!!!

Immediately, I was compelled to relate it to my students – girls who eye at sleep with romance. They cuddle with it and do not get up like the newly married bridegroom lazing on the bed till 9 a.m. This is adapting to sleep just like adaptive learning the other girl demonstrated.

When I went to my village...

2009-05-21T06:16:00.000-07:00

I decided not to visit my home town, a village that oversees the Western Ghats. One may wonder why? Plugging away at my PhD for the past one year, I have skipped deadlines I set at least couple of times. My dad got used to the timeline that he adds a buffer period of two months to the time period I give every time. So, I thought it would be better off if I submit the thesis and then visit my village with no strings attached.

However, wish got the better of my will and I had been to my home town (near Tenkasi in Tirunelveli district, Tamil Nadu, India) recently. It was more of a jaunt – a short trip for four days and hardly had time to rewind and bask in the whistling breeze as against the bristling heat in Chennai.

I am making this trip after seven to eight months. There was much to catch up and I did. It awakened me and brought me to realise that disaster could happen in no time and to people who were once fit and healthy. Some existed and a few had disappeared. For people like us, who are on a rat race chasing money extending our hands in all directions to grab currencies in a cut-throat fashion with no liking for fellow human beings and chums and friends, I could see the cues of impermanence from only four persons whom I met in a single day. Continued…….

What am I taking away from you?

2009-04-21T13:30:00.000-07:00

I am not writing blogs to get rave reviews. Of late, I have been receiving nasty comments and someone looked at me saying ‘You are creepy’. My open writing style has put my identity at stake. Women, I don’t have many readers, think I have two selves and more than that. For one, I do not behave in society in line with the will-of-the wisp imaginations of my heart. But, I etch all my thoughts, foul and fair, vice and virtue, good and bad, in my writings.

Having seen a silent and soft spoken character that I do not intend to willingly portray with any sinister motives, a joke I cracked recently did not pull out the raw laughter from those who usually do. Instead, I was probed if I was capable of doing it. Cracking jokes, I am not a habitual humour machine. Now and then, I can produce some. Not ready to believe. No sweat.

The funniest part is someone close to my heart believes I have the potential to backbite and leave the person lurching high and dry. What a paradox? She does not know I have a camera installed in my laptop bag. I am not Sharon Stone..hahaha. But, it’s time to disclose my mission. Mission that is new found. Hijack or get hijacked. It cannot get any trickier than this, isn’t it? I would love to leave this post as unfathomable as how she never allows anyone to know what has irked her to change her colours.

It has been wonderful all these days. This week, especially, has brought out my pluckier streak never before known. I don‘t know what people think of me, talk about me – good riddance bad rubbish. I am happy to take all that comes my way. But, the larger worry is that nothing comes.

Yet another journey whose memories I will live with. Do you know why I have to live with it? I am not spilling the beans. For the unexpected sweeping, teeny climax that is keeping me off the ground. Anyways, that is my feeling. Come on guys! Bury the hatchet and let us shake our legs. Imagine that you have given me a royal kick and shown me the door. My pants have gone dirty – you could have pushed me gently. Never mind. Take care you all who took good care of me. BYE. Am I leaving without telling someone something? The pain is mine. However, let my parting be your pleasure.

CAN I HAVE A GROUP PHOTO AS WELL AS (typo error)

Is corruption affecting condom business and our country's development?

2009-03-20T13:13:00.000-07:00

Development is the key word that has put some countries in the front and some in the rear. It is unfortunate and simultaneously a global mandate that a few countries are flush with funds, technologically advanced, with high level of awareness about political, social, economic and health issues. On the flip side, there are countries where poverty handicaps their growth; earning potential of majority of the people is acutely low. This has made access to technologies a debate that goes on and on and has not been won yet.

The line drawn between the leading countries and moderately and highly impoverished countries is called the divide or development divide. Therefore, there are developed countries concentrated in the North Bloc, for example United States of America, United Kingdom, to a larger extent all Scandinavian countries and Canada. Asia is branded a developing continent though South Korea and Singapore have marched ahead close to the North Bloc.

India, a third world country, is a developing nation facing constraints to bring about all round development. It is sad to note that India is pegged at 128th rank in the development index. This is in spite of IT industry bringing revenues in streams. However, this information-based economy accounts only for 30 percent of the nation’s growth. The remaining 70 percent is agro-based economy with most of our fellow Indians living in rural pockets without basic amenities such as electricity and water.

Taking a kaleidoscopic view of the entire state of affairs, it is understandable that there is a way out for our country to develop. If only corruption is eradicated; people are aware of their rights and responsibilities; and much more.

Corruption is a candidate unanimously selected by those whom people elect democratically. Later, this insidious candidate is used against people. Those who ‘have’ garland corruption for all wrong reasons. What about people who fall under ‘have-nots’? Thus, corruption stratifies the population into two and in the end creates development divide and social inequality.

Corruption is everywhere, in all government departments and perpetrated by all government workers. Traffic policeman is a case in point. He works hard to regulate traffic and stands in scorching sun, biting cold to make sure office goers and others do not get held up in traffic. Violating traffic rules is a fun ride some of us enjoy doing. Four in one bike.

The traffic policemen stop lorries and take them for a ride. Those vehicles that go on a long trip transporting goods from one state to another or from one city to another within a state have to bribe the traffic regulators. Now, to understand development better, this has to be seen in a different context. Drivers leave their families and will be away for a week or two depending on the job assignment and distance. On their way, they get attracted by the prospect of sexual workers. Practically speaking, as raw human beings, they are snared after a drought of having no sex. They are not saints like Swami Vivekananda. But, the irony is this incidence has now cast a shadow on institution like marriage and our nation reports higher number of AIDS patients.

The argument here is the government talks about taking preventive measures before indulging in such wrongful activities. I do not want to opinionate whether it is right or wrong. But, if traffic policemen are going to collect bribes as lorries enter each state border, for example, the drivers and others traveling in the vehicle will be left with little money that they cannot afford to buy condoms. So, does the question of ‘playing it safe’ arise?

Corruption has made drivers almost broke and the reserve money they have are used for contracting AIDS, less wonder. The next and final question is: In this context, how do we expect our country to develop? The government creates awareness through advertisements and the government officials give no chance to bed with sexual partners in a safe way. It is a clear paradox. Is this not related to health awareness and development?

CBI raids doctors (wish it happens)

2008-09-13T11:59:00.000-07:00

Till last year, I had to set aside a huge amount towards investment to ease the burden of tax. I mean income tax. When I was in the initial stages of earning, I did not know the importance of investments and one fine month, I would find 40 percent of the salary eaten up by tax monger and just some peanuts dropping into my account.

I am not here to argue if paying income tax in full is a sane advice or making investments and paying a slice of the total tax is. It might look as if one has got around hazards of tax that gobbles up more than a month salary if you are an IT employee. On the other hand, to pay reduced tax amount, one has to invest five fold and it increases with increase in salary. So, it six of the one and a half dozen of the other - all the same.

However, I am scrupulous and do not want to hedge off paying tax. The irony is people like me will be very few accounting for a small percentage – especially all those working and falling under IT slab.

There are many who dodge tax payments quite deftly. Many professionals who are held in high esteem in society are culprits and go unpunished. Recently, my son was operated for tonsillectomy. I met a doctor and found the charge high and approached a government doctor instead. It goes without saying he gets paid by the government and to add he is a consultant in a few hospitals. He suggested a hospital which might charge reasonably.

The date for the surgery was fixed and it was to happen on a Saturday morning. He said he would not be able to do it on Friday as he had a case to attend to. He also quashed our intention to have it in the first week of October citing he might go abroad. For all you know, that was a cute excuse presented to push us to get the surgery done right off the bat.

I received a call from him on Thursday evening. He said the surgery he was supposed to perform on Friday got postponed and so he was free to operate my son on Friday. I was shocked as he had not seen the test reports he had told us to do. And, is he going for surgery without examining the patient, reports? I could sense the urge in him. It was rather an attempt to clinch a business deal. Human life – is it (not) pay dirt?

He told us to admit my son to the hospital and came at 10.30 p.m. to make sure the operation theatre was all set for the next morning’s surgery. He also brought his gadgets. He wanted to make sure all is well for the surgery to take place. He paid a surprise visit to our room and looked at the X-ray and reports - was just going through the motion. He left as fast as he entered saying that the surgery is at 6.30 p.m.

When I tailgated him, he told me to pay him Rs. 6000 and Rs. 1000 for the anesthetist. For the first time in my life, whatever respect and reverence I had for doctors crumbled as he told me to put the money in envelopes and no receipts for that.

This raises a serious question as to what bloody/darn social responsibility doctors have. I do not want to generalize but the law Anbumani Ramadoss has introduced for the medicos that they practice in rural health centres for a year to be qualified as doctors is legitimate beyond doubt.

Right from students coughing up 20 to 40 lakhs in self-financed medical institutions to the same students graduating with a corrupt thought of making quick money after completing the course, they are reared as raring to squeeze money out of patients.

And the doctor who operated upon my son may be culpable but is he not someone who is hoarding money – black money at that. They too are quacks in a way and steps to expose such uncouth professionals rest with every one of us.

The saying goes’ “An apple a day keeps a doctor away”. We really need to think about keeping doctors at bay. Social responsibility has become a clichéd term. The so-called doctors are myopic about that.

Goggledygook, a gaffe

2008-09-06T02:34:00.000-07:00

Sons and daughters make us feel proud. I have two sons and only them. I could not help much when my wife came out of the operation theatre after delivering the second baby sobbing and whining. One would imagine she was reeling under pain after she was operated upon for delivery and got her womb nipped. So, her womb is not flush with fertile glands anymore. Later, when she was moved to the room, I learnt that her desire for a baby girl doomed and now taking another shot was also quelled for good.

Three years down, she is thankful to me that I was persistent with having two kids as I am always with my bedding rant. Now, my kids have grown up and one is showing signs of frustration whenever persuaded to study while the younger one is keen on flipping pages and making alien sounds with books held upside down. My wife, thinks she is clairvoyant, says he will outsmart me. Touchwood.

Well, I was taking all of them two sons and my wife in my bike. One sits on the bulging petrol tank and in a linear view, it looks like four blocks of different heights (size apart) moving strenuously through heavy traffic. I told my son to crouch a little as I can’t see things ahead. He started talking about my head.

Your head is important. It is a bundle of …..bundle of what nerves eh?, nope, it is a bundle of knowledge. What a thick sheet of ice that must be? Honours from my kid. He did not stop with that. He said your head is a google. I wondered and admired that he has understood google and can use it as a verb.

Anyone would have remained sated with these praises. I went little farther. I asked him ‘You said my mind is a google’. Is it similie or metaphor? He screwed up his eyes when lights from an opposite vehicle peered through them. Whether it was light or my question that got him made faces – I did not know. If I had not pestered him further, he would have changed the topic. Eventually, I had to give him the answer. And, he changed his tack cleverly and said ‘Your head is like google’ reducing my self worth a bit.

Removing Mush - is it a fair bet?

2008-09-02T00:05:00.000-07:00

It was the convoluted political coup of Musharaff that brought down the government of Nawaz Sheriff. Later, Sheriff lived in exile almost losing his iconic identity reduced to a fantasy figure in the heads of his fans. And only fans. So, was late Benazir Bhutto. Mush became president and he established Army as the supreme authority to steer forward the country through tough times and easy days. Mush is cool and is a hawk to boot. Soft and tough. For a decade, he remained a cult figure and a fearsome personality.

Removing him has not cost the country much, nary a farthing. Another political virtuoso (read in negative connotation) is jockeying for the post. But, it is no easy pushover and Nawaz Sheriff stands in the way. I am not sure if he cares for the post as much as he hated Mush. By the way, the presidential election is not far off.

I never did hate mush, not once in my life. I look good with mush. Sorry, if you think I have taken a mug with him. It is my own moustache. It was not a well-orchestrated plan to upstage my look or rather uplift my facial features. I was in exile in my hometown for three days and I knew most of the inhabitants would not recognize me with my mush stripped off. My mother looked the most disappointed. She said 'You look like one in the village band who beats the traditional drum hung from his shoulder in temple festivals'. The odd comment I got was 'You have become a pious muslim'. That rattled my nerves. When I came back to chennai, my wife related me to ROSE programme in VIJAY TV. grrrrrrrrr...

When I attended a marriage in my village, I thought I will be in the limelight for either reasons - seeing me after a long time and seeing me in a new look. Both went west. People would have bothered to look at me had it not been for the absence of mush. I don't insist nor do I opine that Mush must be reinstated.

If you ever thought it was a coup, i mean removing mush..it is an insane idea. But, those who recognized did coo and boo me. Unlike the Pak Mush, removal was my own making or undertaking. I did not commit any crime for villagers to put me on a donkey shaving my head and face. So, there was no reason for them to impeach me with ugly marks on my body.

You can work on other permutations and combinations. Why would I remove mush? To give some one run for his money? Your guess is grossly wrong. To woo the opposite sex? Fabulous idea, I never though about that. Planning to send some one to live in exile? Yes, my own old looks. And taking a rain check on whether I have all positive points favouring me. Like: Do I have cute lips that are a source of seduction? A montage of leading models' lips.

If that be the case, it has all what it takes to steal the thunder leaving the rest of the features to fall flat? Except for one. My eyes can hardly deflate as they look like two marbles etched on a rock. So, there is a competition between my lips and eyes, I suppose.

Having said that, who is now aiming a shot at the barren space where mush had 100% stake? Let me stop rambling. It is once again going to be those glittering silver hair peeking through the lush black mush. But, they spoil the show. The reason why I removed Mush may upset many close friends. But, it is a definite attraction for the uninitiated. Anyway, what is wrong in test driving?

Souls sponsoring my PhD

2008-08-27T11:12:00.001-07:00

I am surrounded by gestures. I must be one of those lucky guys to garner help from friends and acquaintances. My calendar for data collection that began from April is going full steam ahead. My contacts and their good-natured and courteous nature have made my pursuit easy. This looks like I have become a ‘dada’ or ‘don’ they have taken fancy to. You wonder, for what? To see me complete my doctoral studies. Inwardly, they must be thinking I am one nutty pest to latch on to a subject that I myself can’t talk about convincingly??!! So, what is my stance? Dare not ask that?!!

My friend who came to know about my visiting the whole of South India for collecting data grew suspicious after seeing the itinerary. It looks like honey moon with a Cuban girl, he said. No doubt, there certainly is going to be a rocking party drumming, dancing, twittering, tossing away shame and indulging in a riot of sprightly seashore gala, especially after twilight.

But, I am waiting for the day when I can shriek with exuberance to myself ‘the winner is none other than ……’ I know I am day dreaming.

And time to thank students, friends, my guide, and others. A special mention about my son who makes funny remarks – pop always talks about PhD, not sure when he will come out of that eerie world.

Above all, I shot a mail to my cousin Fareetha in the States to get me a couple of books. She thought the ship I was traveling in sprang a leak and was sinking by yards or like the Titanic. She treated the mail with such urgency that she placed order for the books much faster than the campaign race between Obama Barrack and Hillary Clinton. To add, she revels in contributing to my effort and she is one caring soul who has been continually enquiring about my career. And, today when she repeatedly says it is her pleasure to help me in some way, I feel like a kite trying to overpower the wind in cloud nine. It is so special that people like her are making my life easier.

What do I owe them apart from dough that I need to pay for the books? What do I owe you all?

Courting food in Hyderabad

2008-08-27T11:05:00.000-07:00

I was in Vizag couple of weeks back to gather data for my doctoral studies. Returning from Hyderabad after a botched schedule I came to this port town. Staying for two days in Hyderabad was no cheery moment as I could neither understand nor speak Hindi, let alone Telugu. Thank God, I conducted my study where girls speak at least three languages. I survived interacting with them in English.

But, outside where I was put up in a hotel, I used non-verbal language to convey what I wanted to. Half of them went off the top of the auto drivers. Or they pretended they understood and used it as an excuse to wring as much money as they could. Yet, the money they squeezed out of me was half what the rapacious auto drivers in Chennai would demand to cover the same distance.

Staying two days, I wanted to exploit the culinary items of the Moghul town. I took directions for the best biriyani hotel and did not mind walking all the way to the hotel in spite my having to nip down two or more than two km. Hell, when the waiter rattled out the menu, I choked up even before I swallowed anything. I said, “Menu card, please’.

The colourful menu had a lot of varieties of which I knew only of biriyani. Not knowing what the rest of them are, I opted for a safe bet, which is hyderabadi biriyani. The quantity seemed far too much to eat. Half way through the course, someone came and sat opposite me and ordered a different exotic stuff and I thought in retrospect ‘Ewwww, Could have had that’. I picked up the paper napkin and guarded my mouth from doodling.

So, this is what happened everywhere I went to have food or tea. The tea shop paraded biscuits and I grew leery of them all. I thought it would do well to skip my meals and taste all of those crispy biscuits instead. I was tongue-tied by the options as much as by the language barrier and had to go to the man sitting at the cash register and put my fingers on biscuits I wanted. “That, no the next one, this, that big round piece, etc.”

After filling my stomach breaching the limits, I washed them down all with tasteful Irani tea. Now, the man who serves collects money. In fact, I took about 10 minutes to gobble down and an equal amount of time to tell him what I had and pay him. He made me go to the cash register and show all biscuits I had. I demonstrated it once again.

It only reminds me of my friend who claimed she knew Hindi and told someone ‘Anju’ (tamil equivalent of five) whereas she wanted to say ‘paanch’.

Grammar Punch

2008-03-30T11:42:00.000-07:00

When my wife told me I have not taught my son grammar for his annual exams coming round the corner, I stepped forward to chip in a bit. Grammar …grrrrrrrrrrrr he says. I give him no chance. I made him sit beside me at 10.30 p.m and taught him punctuation.

The computer glared at him. His eyes were roving and I could see him trying to say ‘yes’ to my tutoring. Without knowing whether I was asking questions or it was just an instruction. It was not a zinger for me too to teach him at that point of time. I felt exhausted and wanted to slide from my chair on to the bed right away.

I held up my nerve and looked at him. Poor fellow, sleep was haunting his eyes and he could barely look at me. I am certain he would not want to be my student given that I am an academician teaching graduates.

Now, are you thorough with punctuation, I asked him. He shook his whole body to help him extricate out of the stupor he was slowly going into.

Tell me what else I can teach you before you get completely knocked out. Meantime, my wife brought him a cup of tea to stimulate his brain. He drank in a single draught and looked as if he had a swill of alcohol. I had a feeling that the tea was making him all the more sleepy. Similie, I said.

I know little about pronouns and all that, but not similie, he answered.

I gave him an example using how he can establish parallel between one idea and another. Then I asked him: (I realized I chose a wrong example but it was too late), Pops’ belly looks like…. I stopped for him to complete.

His face lit up. He smiled and said: like watermelon.

He has understood me and similie better now and I thought I rather change the topic. Before he got enthusiastic about similies and my way of asking questions, I bade him a hasty goodnight.

Academic Debate - II

2008-03-05T18:49:00.000-08:00

I am volatile and have no specific affinity for anything in life. However, it is only a wrong impression my love to test water in different fields has conveyed. Secondly, a friend of mine who I turn to for motivation has always criticised me in no uncertain terms. I do not deny as she is correct in advising me to hang on to one entity. I am sorry, I am not able to resist my curiosity to have a go at a range of communication industries – not all though.

Today, as I was seeking her help to distribute questionnaire to students relating to my doctoral studies, we happened to discuss how a student of mine and an incidental colleague are rising to the occasion in their career. Her implicit argument is that I only jabber (who knows if she calls me a jabbering fool) and have not achieved anything substantive. I did admit and I am working on my doctoral studies and things are looking up. I am pleased with the progress I am making and would say push has come to shove.

The argument wound through my explaining to her what my new area of specialisation is. The list included five topics and all of them fortunately fall under one category. Two of them are part of my doctoral studies and I told I intend to focus on the rest – it is just a question of content packaged in different media and studying how content is produced, consumed, commodified and their social and cultural implications.

She appeared to be in a foul mood and was right away fending off my statements. It sort of diluted my motivation. Over and above, I did not see any rationale in her argument. She questioned my authority on my competency in culture theory, which is my area of specialisation. I said I can talk about it more than what I would have had it been a year ago. She cut me short curtly saying being able to elucidate on a topic does not mean I have specialised in it. I partly agree with that but she tried to set me against others. She was in no mood to listen to me either and both of us were heard bantering over the phone.

I cannot forgive her for de-motivating me – a reliable source scorns me and that is something unbearable given the fact that both of us worked together on several papers. I ended the call with a bet that I would prove my competency in the areas of my choice. She got a secure job and she feels I cannot stage a convincing comeback to academics. Sometimes, it is good that such heated conversation happens. I need this kind of stimulus to force the pace in my career, especially in academics. Thank you lady for blowing hot! It is invigorating and makes me think where I am and what I should do.

Have you put out the embers of old flame?

2008-03-05T18:38:00.000-08:00

A few months back, I happened to answer a question related to extra-marital affairs. The question had been apparently posted by a man on a website and it caught my interest. Interest that is laced with sympathy to help him out of the quagmire he is in. My first hunch said that he is a victim of an unprecedented relationship he has started pondering over. I let my imagination fan out and my hunch and understanding of the distressed fellow human being grew infinite. He is probably ruing for having gotten into such a culture-shocking eyesore. I thought it’s too late. On the other, it is better late than never.

I see through his heart and there she is tugging at the strings. He has internalized this feeling. Obviously, she has tamped down her ‘sincere’ love for him as if they never had any relationship. I got an answer from the man and he confided that he got physical with her too. The thought of having to lose her after a stealthy but loyalty-ridden relationship is not something he is not able to stomach. Though, he never initiated it he wants the relationship to continue. So much for his loyalty for a woman who is all set to cheat on him.

The point now is how to get rid of the disturbing thoughts, say (heady!!!) indiscretions he committed, and get going. She’s already jumped into the stream. Why bother about her?

I replied him how not to turn it up henceforth. And, my tips served some purpose. In fact, extra-marital relationship is not alien to our country. In the guise of tradition people feign serenity. Behind the screen, lust plays host to a sly environment.

Well, if you dream of an everlasting relationship you are living in a fool’s paradise. Either of you will break it up either due to saturation or problems. The latter hardly comes into picture as men and women are cunning and guileful enough to enjoy as long as it tastes sweet and throw him/her out – who you would have once held in a cushy status. Poor fellow, who wrote to me met with the same fate.

From his point of view, I would suggest that ‘be careful when you hear a woman saying you have uncanny traits or abilities that only one in a million would possess’. That could be the bait for a small bite she intends to dig herself into. But, it is just a red herring and it might take some time for you to realize. Don’t ever get physical as it could ransack your strength - mental - if you happen to be an introvert staking claim on loyalty in the relationship.

There are times you would have found her in a giving mood all the time. She might even cite the intimate and intricate moments you had with her as sacrifices she made as if she was going down fighting against a social cause. Nor are you a clean dude. You will be shell shocked to learn that she shoves away her sacrifices with a gentle push. When you bobby raise the matter of intimacy, you are pinched off your head.

Quite rightfully done, isn’t it? It is not a demand and supply relationship. It is something that had better tossed off into the deep layers of the Pacific. Good that the anonymous person got it off his chest.

All said and done, possibilities for both to engage with a fresh man or woman will certainly explode. Take a look at the work environment and friends who might come in new. There are people who might want to use the relationship as an excuse to get things done. In today’s world, the concept of marriage is in itself at stake. Recently, I learnt that people working in the IT industry in Bangalore fall in love like a shot and get married without even examining each other properly. There isn’t time to discern. And the outcome is most of them bid it-means-nothing adieu to marriage. Separated they are, they tend to seek a new relationship. Who knows? This could be a cause for proliferating incidence of shacking up.

And, try to be an extrovert and allow the thought that any relationship is just a touch and go to sink in – just like in Mr and Mrs Smith where both hound for each others blood and then unite. Here in extramarital relationship, the converse happens. This is intended for two-timers and then back track and then get onto a fast track and end up in death bed with all the men surrounding the battle axe women if not really at least virtually.

First off, don’t give into any seduction in whatsoever form it is thrown at you. If you have taken the bait, can you be all sneers rather than being mushy about the whole stuff? Pretend if you cannot. For, the opposite sex will be doing the same. And, come out of the maze no sooner than you imagine. For your well being, my dear. By the way, focus on what interests you the most. No saying, it is your old flame. It sucks. Hahahaha!!!

Catch the train, catch a nap

2008-03-03T09:58:00.000-08:00

I love to travel a lot. I suffer from perennial wanderlust but could dream visiting those exotic places than being able to land my foot in the thick cluster of ice in Swiss Alps, walking down the busy road in New York, letting the hair down in the coolest beach of Honolulu; the wish list is a long winding one.

But, I travel quite frequently in Chennai metro trains so much that I know the stations back of my palm. I fight for the window seat and get one luckily by stroke of luck. Looking out the window gives me a kick but the metro train does not chug along too far. It starts with a heavy heave and rattles down like a hopeless train only to slow down to end its short gasp. The next station arrives.

Short and snappy trip is the experience one gets till the destination point. So, I was not much thrilled about sticking my eyes out. I have seen Chennai from the metro trains and know the stations, its ambience like the LIC building. Even if my eyes sojourn on the pages of a novel, I know where by I am on the move or stationed.

Nowadays, I am trying to avoid sitting by the window side. Not that I am attracted towards “Pachaikili Muthucharam” girl. A strange feeling overcomes me and it is not even AXE or Fa. They make you sit and take notice.

But, this is a feeling that calms your nerves, soothes your body and ends up in sewing your eyes smoothly. The air from outside may be hot but it gets converted into a breeze. The breeze runs through you hair and letters in the novel glow bright and dull.

I doze off – caught between novel’s curiosity and the breeze. I wake up with a start when I reach every station. One day, I was sleeping tight (not snoring though) and the train had reached the destination. But for the pity showed by my fellow passenger on the train, I would have traveled back and beyond.

So far, I have given a slip to my friend, who boards from a different station. She is all set to take a photograph of how well I utilize the time traveling from X to Y. She perhaps wants to promote metro trains in Chennai. Given her yen for event management, she will blow up my picture in that head-bowing posture and propose it for a billboard near Panagal Park - The road that never sleeps!!

Academic debate - I

2008-02-24T20:12:00.000-08:00

I must admit that I have hopped from one career to another sampling advertising, journalism, academics, research, and e-learning. I write but I don’t claim I am as famed as Kushwanth Singh or Shobha De. I am a writer in my own right. My colleagues in the field of academics have decried and encouraged me to sharpen my writing skills.

After 12 years, I have a life overrun by a mix of experiences, if not expertise.

Whenever I latched on to the industry, I tried not to be a slowpoke. I mustered my spirit to give the best. But, I gave more than enough reason for my friends and colleagues to believe that something was not right the way I built my career. Before one could say I am here, I had the tendency to train my eyes on a new career. I can attribute this to modernity and jauntily work my way around. That is an easy route to escapism. But, I did not.

I have of late looked at my self and wondered if my indecisiveness is having the last laugh. I owe to the Almighty for having given the can-do energy. But, that has not helped me complete my PhD. In spite of the papers I have published and arguing with people on issues relating to academics, modestly though, I sense I see a few of my colleagues getting cheesed off.

They are annoyed to the core! Why?

He prefers neem leaves to exams

2008-02-17T06:49:00.000-08:00

When it comes to test or exam, my son goes silent and things are not easier. Berated by his never-do-I-care attitude, I told him to list down the topics for the forthcoming exam. As if I could spend some time with him, I looked at the list. Busy with my thesis work, I decided to encourage him to do self-learning.

Every 5 minutes, I would ask him ‘how far are you through with your preparation? He would say – ‘You can ask me questions’. He knows how busily I am involved with my work that seems to have no end in sight.

I asked him: So, you would do well in your exams!

‘Yes pop’. The tone would suggest as if he is aiming for the maximum.

Will you get above 80 percent?

I knew that could be the last straw. He rallied around and gave me a ‘wait and watch’ answer.

‘Let me get the answer sheet pop’. He didn’t want to say – ‘Oh my God, 80 percent.. that is a rip off! You must be cold-hearted’. On top of that, he told me in curt politeness – Don’t jump the gun.

In another instance, I was teaching him the life cycle of animals and reproduction. I taught him the way granny tells a bed time story. Son, every human being born in this world meets the ‘dead end’. I threw some spice into the story and struck terror in his mind. After death, God punishes and rewards us based on how we spend our life on earth. So, decide if you want to be in hell or heaven. No hideaways up there, said I. You will go through worst time screaming and crying in hell.

After some time, he asked me ‘how can we shout after we cease to exist?

I forgot to add a strand that God will bring all of us back to life. Sounded like a loosely woven plot typical of tamil movies. Less wonder, he despises most of the movies he watches.

Never before, Never again Offer

2008-02-16T01:07:00.000-08:00

I looked unlike myself today – the jaunty spirit appears to have been hijacked by evil eyes. A clumsy walk and line sketches of salt and pepper beard, rather a five o’ clock shadow, showed me in poor light. Why this on a Valentine’s Day? Has cupid failed to dart his arrows and cast the worst of his curse?

At least I had time to recount the past in graphic details. I didn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day when I was under the clutches of love - romance or any airy phrase you may want to use to describe it. Now, I indulge in it retrospectively after 11 years of married life. Not to say, I have two kids one at a whining age and another to whom I am reporting to. So much for the demands he makes in a saucy fashion.

By the way, I have an uncanny ability to detect whenever anything hanky-panky happens between a boy and a girl, man and a woman. It is not my well-rounded eyes that help me to see through the romantic ruse even if it is packaged with platonic or friendly preservatives. Just that, nothing escapes my intuition. Even a small hint and the couple is on my radar. However, this is not my profession, though. But, I got curious to know what happens on MCC campus.

Today, love is supposed to be in the air. And, I took a secretive glance at the ‘deepwoods’, but it wore a business-as-usual look. I looked up to make sure hydrogen balloons with a pair in them are not flying labeled ‘Love is in the Air’. Possibly, the younger generation today does not go emotionally overboard.

Why stay stealthy? I could hear a student apologetically looking around to snare a prospective boy. Later, I learnt she was kidding. Whatever it is, it is the moment and day to make a bold announcement. So, go around with loud speakers or distribute pamphlets!!!

And, if it is a one-day affair trying to tag someone along with you and beat yourself up about it till the tryst pleases, better not make hearts go into a sulk. Love thy neighbour, not in any romantic sense. Your valentine day fest is made.

What if I were a James Bond?

2007-12-03T02:51:00.000-08:00

The signature tune will be the same. I fancy not to change it but why show those hour-glass shaped women in silhouettes in the intro song. I want well-dressed (chick)en - you know what I mean. Whatever it is! If you are goodie-goodie, close your eyes - else your jaws would drop.

By the way, I am James Bond – short and stout for a change. I don’t use cars. Instead I achieve all feats riding on my laughing, giggling, chuckling two-wheeler. It sends out all that cacophony the moment it is on.

Camera! Rolling! Action!

I chase a group of thugs who are within my eyesight when I start. Now, after half an hour on a highway dotted with trees either side, I hear only the rattling noise of my bike. The speedometer shows the needle at a constant speed. It is zero – hey but my vehicle is a zipper. I don’t know who unplugged the wire.

I see the road wet. Well, it has rained. The chase is still on. Don’t ask me why the chase is still continuing? The snaky roads wind through many hairpin bends. I press a button hoping to get a hood over the vehicle. Doesn’t Bond get it whatever he wants at the drop of a hat? So, I bend along the curve of the road and press the button. My super jet helmet falls down. I don't care as I have more ammunition in my vehicle. Till it gets reduced to a bicycle I can use and discard every part.

I sense something. The redlight near the speedometer glows. I assume the enemies are lurking somewhere around and they could shoot me anytime. I decided to hug the fuel tank to avoid the shots. When I curled up, I heard a shrill cry. Ouch! It's me man. I have not twisted my body for the past 25 years, except to eat food. (I don't like to eat from the dining table). My tiny tummy lets me to slip from right to left and left to right. Jelly like er!

Managing the wobbling of my belly, I try to fish out the revolver. What comes out is the pen I flicked from my colleague in the office.

Before I put it back, I am down by the side of a beautiful tree. The position doesn't change. I am lying in the same posture as I was riding the bike. I get up when I realize I am not moving. When I manage to stand and don my sunglass, I find that the glass has become straight and pliable like a talisman. I tie it around my big arm and am about to lift the vehicle. Suddenly, I see a man on a bike from a distance.

Cool, I said to myself. I turn around and pretend to pee. Assuming he has gone past me, I turn with half the action complete. The lady in his clutches is shouting ‘help’. He stares at me. I look at him curiously. ‘Could you please help me lift the vehicle so that I can leave the place and the lady for yours?’He smiles and obliges. I start my vehicle and it starts laughing, giggling and chuckling. The man thinks me the Bond has options and flees. The lady comes and hugs me. What would have happened after that? A la Bond’s raunchy effort!!

Wit vs Withering heights

2007-11-26T09:42:00.000-08:00

How often do I teach my son? As rarely as you may find a ghost in a broad day light. Gotcha! But I call him all of a sudden and expose my creative juices trying to explain a lesson from a different angle. Believe me, I am not lying through my teeth. I do it with such a great deal of zeal as if an adult becomes animated on seeing a pretty girl passing by. I had better not reveal the uncovered but not unsolicited part of the prime youth!!!!

Am I teaching because I get to learn the unknown? I have not explored that. As long as my guidance doesn’t misfire, I am confident.

With that confidence, I started on teaching digestive system to my son. How do you make it interactive? (Gosh? Let me warn e-learning not to encroach my brain for some time?)

Simple. Start with a question. More of a pre-test. (Your honour, I object to using e-learning idioms – so does my heart reprimand my mind).

Q1. What do you mean by digestion? I put a semi British accent on the question and my son threw a pitiful glance. Is he wondering how my students tolerated me?

After a prolonged thought, he parted his lips to answer the question in a meek tone. I felt a gentle bad breath like that of the protective ring lolling about in the Colgate commercial. It was 10.30 p.m. and it is fair enough that his mouth has lost the sheen and the sweet odour. I pretended as if I didn’t hear the answer properly and raised my pitch – WHAT?

He was not scared but tightened up his cheek and waved his hands in front of the nose. Eh, I am not a dragon to spit fire, I thought. So, why should he do that like his nose was hot or burnt? A moment later, he made a slow retreat, a couple of steps back. Like son, like father or the other way round.

At last, I got the answer from him. He said digestion is thinking. Figuratively, if used in certain context, it appears to be true. No, I said and began talking about organs so that he will learn about the functions of intestines and how they help to digest food.

Q2. What are the organs you can see and you cannot see for yourself?

He was lost and started speaking to himself. He tried to convey he knew the answer and was sourcing it from the database. When everything else failed, he turned to me.

I said: I can see your eyes, nose, ears, hands, legs. But, can I see your bowels, liver, stomach, or food pipe?

He was too quick to agree ‘no’. With the satisfaction of having made him understand the basics, I planned to explain the next step. My hunch goaded me to confirm once again that he has understood it perfectly.

Q3. Tell me the organs you can see, my son.

He said eyes, ears, mouth and then stopped.

Pop, how can I see my nose? I can’t see my eyes and ears too. I need a mirror. Only you can see them.

I ended up laughing like a goat. I rather chuckled to myself not being able to admit his supremacy. Such students could be jurors to select the Best Teacher. Beware!!

TV series

2007-11-16T03:06:00.000-08:00

I hate television because it seduces me. Imagine a criminal, who is about to be hanged to death, pleading to the judge not to cover his face only to breathe his last watching the last soap. Opium, it is. Fortunately, one doesn’t feel dizzy no matter how long the fingers fidget with the remote.

Well, today, thanks to all of us and our readiness to become TV junkies, the number of channels is increasing like Indian population at least proportionately. Can you tell how many channels are there in Tamilnadu?

SUN TV

JAYA TV

KALAIGNAR TV

VIJAY TV

WIN TV

RAJ TV

TAMIZHAN TV and

(the upcoming) MEGA TV

All the above channels are well equipped to propagate their subjective opinions. While we are contemplating interactive television or websites, the old medium come on to its own. But, the sore part is all these channels are the political organs of one party or the other. (there may be exceptions). And no news is worth watching as it is completely doctored.

This reminds me of something. Our nation peddles the serene and sacred label ‘democracy’. Unfortunately, politicians who are supposed to be the guardians of democracy are for feudalism and nepotism. In other words, they are dictators in the guise of democrats. I know it is a clichéd cry. However, the content that comes out of these channels is hogwash that it suspends your belief.

With so many channels vying for attention, they have stooped to the level of attacking each other indirectly. It is more than obvious and is palpable. On the other hand, they have a common trait. The programme that becomes a box office hit in one channel will be refashioned and beamed in a new name.

Wait a moment. If you ever thought copy cat is the last thing these channels would do, I would like to add one more to the natak. Horse trading has percolated to TV programmes too. Currencies are exchanged, threat posed, or promises made and the artists whom you see in Channel A this week appears in Channel B in the same programmme or genre next week. We do not delve into these tricksters who run the show. We merely play into their hands and spend time debating who the best performer is and what not.

Now, wonder why I have decided to black out my television and tuck it away in some corner? I can’t stand the sight of the untold bickering taking place within these channels. Much more than that, I don’t want to be privy to it.

So, don’t let media gag you, for that matter, drive your opinion fully. If you see television as an object, you can get over the sticky drama the channels orchestrate. But, if you see it as a subject, you allow getting yourself absorbed by it. Before you say ‘damn it’, become a Sherlock Holmes and keep an eye on the TV set. Not literally though!

By the way, can anyone tell which party is launching MEGA TV?

'Polished' brilliance

2007-10-26T02:27:00.000-07:00

Being a father is a tough task than becoming a father. Responsibilities mount and as your child grows you need to keep yourself up-to-date. When they are two years, they start booing you. When they are three, they will bargain for your glee. And at five, you may probably jive.

But, now that they have started going to school, your work pressure and aspirations battle with their academic needs.

I was teaching my 10 year old son. He was learning about minerals and mining. I took some unusual interest and began talking about digging up earth’s surface to get minerals.

I said ‘rocks have different types of minerals’. He was listening to me intently. To give him the taste of experiential learning, I told him to bring a stone from somewhere. Meantime, I removed the stone from the grinder.

Let’s compare, dear son. He had a stone in his hand. ‘What’s the shape of the stone?’ I asked. He said rectangle. The stone had rough and sharp edges. Look at it again. He held it in his palms and gazed at it as if it was a crystal ball. I explained to him: it is rough and is shapeless.

Now, take a look at the grinder stone. I told him to feel it. He said ‘this is also made of stone’. Wonderful! Anything else? Hmmm…It is round in shape. Good, I said. Now, don’t you think this is smooth? Yes, he nodded. This is smooth because it is polished.

Polished, he interrupted. This is not a shoe to polish, pop?!

Laughter almost rattled me. I withheld it somehow.

That’s all for today my son, I said. Instantly, he asked, shall I throw the stone pop?

He is rocking, eh! Now, my worries are how polished he is going to be. Does it say something about how kids learn? So, we cannot tell that Mars looks like a tennis ball and Jupiter looks like a football. If you ask him ‘Where have you been since morning?’

He might reply: I was in the Jupiter play ground.

He always treats us to some fun

2007-08-16T05:53:00.000-07:00

Sunil had the youthful dewy look on his face – so, what today, question derisively crawling on it. It is his way of slipping in humor in a less-arduous manner at the least expected moment. I said SOX module and coach. We never knew he was asking us to gauge why he was all upbeat and happy. We didn’t want to take chance. We might guess it right and he would demolish it mercilessly, in his own way. But, this time around, there was something big and noticeable adorning his work station.

Finally, everyone started making a beeline to the bouquet. That was from his wife and he couldn’t have asked for another reason to walk in the air. He received a call from her and there he went whining, “I am not going to pay for the bouquet”. He revised his decision immediately. Were you served with any ultimatum Sunil? He worked around it and made us forget.

Suresh with his heart topped up with warmth (bowels grinding Idiyappam) wished him ‘Happy Birthday’. Sunil sprang to his feet and shook hands. The casual shake tightened up and Suresh bared his teeth to convey that was all from his end. Sunil probably would have squeezed his hands every now and then that Suresh smiled instead of crying. The smile would appear for a fleeting second and vanish. The parting shot from Sunil: By the way, where is my gift? A few minutes afterwards, Suresh went offline from the Yahoo messenger.

Later, the entire office came to know about his birthday and we harried him for a party. Initially, he was supposed to sponsor lunch but every one was so scared of taking back the food they had brought for fear of getting brickbats from their wives and mom. Finally, the birthday ‘boy’ (Sunil come down) suggested pizza to go with tea. Men in the office wore a downcast look and they said ‘party’. What party er? Sunil ji, the eerie room, smoke doing rounds – what do people call it? Pub. It’s something similar to public speaking exercise you have initiated us into.

The last call was taken – let’s go to a place where everyone can come. Barrista. Sunil counted the amount in his food coupons and he asked ‘do they accept this? Ashok came that way whose treat is also pending. Sunil floated an idea. Hi Ashok, are you game for two-some party? Ashok was taken up with this and he nodded ‘yes, splendid. Done, Sunil said – I will pay the tip and you take care of the rest. He literally blew Ashok.

At Barrista, everyone ordered something and ended up having something else. Farook fancied too much being with the girl – one on the wall. He took a lot of photos with her in all poses. We had so much fun that three women sitting next to us decided to flee to an obscure corner. Is Sunil’s wife listening to this? BL Narayanan played guitar shrugging his shoulders like a professional. Later, I realized that he was drinking the bitter most coffee and crying with his shoulders shaking. No one noticed that, right! It’s fun. (IF)

George: Happy birthday and may God bless you. Enjoy the bout of joy.

Suzanne: (with that quirky smile) Sunil, may life bring you all mirth and fun; and keep us in good humor as ever.

Mike: I gotcha! Pack your celebration with a punch. It is great to feel you have gained an edge over others. I mean age. Birthday wishes. Get weaving.

News on air

2007-08-02T19:03:00.000-07:00

No one would have so much as scared the handsome crew member when he said ‘Non-vegetarian over sir’. Flying to Singapore in Indian Airlines, thanks to i2K, I waited in patience to retaliate his nonchalance. I wondered if the plane ever flew close to any of the impoverished African countries. I would have been much pleased if the food packets had been sent down to the needy. But, that was not the case to be.

He came back and thrust vegetarian food down my throat. He didn’t feed me, though. I blocked his valiant push and wished him bad luck. I started my argument as if the judge had given me permission to put forth my points. I told him: How come, the non-vegetarian food got over? He tweaked the answer and said ‘we have only vegetarian food to offer’.

Don’t you think the image of Indian Airlines will take a beating? I asked him with puffed pride. Pat came the reply: Yes, it certainly will if a small bird beats it. You wouldn’t have the chance of even tasting what we have. Do you want to go down empty-stomached fighting over this?

What a coarse humour? Fine, why is all this happening? He gestured his hands pointing upward. What..I am already up in the air, above 25,000 feet. Before I could clarify, he said ‘higher-ups’. Well, if that is the case, can you give it in writing that you would not be able to provide me what I asked for ..I mean non-vegetarian food.

His face turned small. He reconciled and told me ‘I will try my best sir’. I didn’t know if he meant giving it in writing or getting me the non-vegetarian food. After 10 minutes, he brought me what I wanted. The man sitting next to me, having downed three Fosters beer, desperately wanted to have the same food. However, his call went unnoticed. He looked at mine and instead of the oozing saliva I could see him biting beer drops that bordered on his lips. Probably, the flavor made him regurgitate.

The picture is not perfect Madhu...

2007-07-31T01:49:00.000-07:00

Madhu, it’s too bad. The ever-smiling picture has disappeared from i2K and in comes a sun flower. Fine, she is going out for a short trot only to breeze in back to i2K. Before, the sunny character walks out of SUNTEC, do you want to know what I know of her?

I entered the Singapore office and walked in pussyfooting. I was reticent to don that plastic smile, but I managed to have one dancing on my lips. I stitched it on to my face till I finished meeting everyone. I know it is painful when you don’t want to lose the desire of putting up a ‘cool dude’ look (vanity, er!!).

I met all and stopped to wonder where Madhubala is. One who chases me for Livewire. The IM image rose to my radar and I scanned the office with wild-eyed fantasy. A woman interrupted my thoughts and shook hands with me. “Hello’. I said a faint ‘hi’ to her.

Can you recognize me, she continued. I haven’t seen her before, but a studied look at her helped me to figure her out. Yes, I guessed it right. Are you Madhu? Yes, she gleamed and said welcome. I did not ask her when and where the IM photograph was shot, until the last day. For your kind information, that is Madhu in Melbourne. To see the Singapore Madhu, kindly visit Singapore!!! (No offence meant madhu?!)

Hey, she is gregarious and knows how to remain calm. Come projects, you will find her omnipresent showing up in IMs, voicing through Skype calls. She bugs you not, only when she is not in the office. But it doesn’t hurt as she sugarcoats her persistence with friendliness. Even before I left for Singapore, I told her she owes me a treat. I told her the first day and I remained quite. She is such a nice lady that she conveniently forgot it.

I had to remind her again. It was embarrassing but I didn’t want to shy away from asking her. The day she gave me the treat, Venkat was furious as I didn’t invite him. Venkat, lucky you didn’t come. For, I was treated to two rotis, vegetables, and sweet. (So sweet of you Madhu for the sumptious treat….I gave up my complimentary breakfast that day…No complaining, anyway)

If you know Ramalakshmi, she is back if I am not wrong, well, you find her replica in Madhu. In the space of 15 days I spent in Singapore, I only gathered that Madhu would sit in her chair and peer through the laptop till it burns. Of course, she works hard. And, our CEO Radhika’s comment should keep her peppy: You look like a bride (she didn’t mean ‘tribal bride’) today (August 27, 2007).

Oh, I forgot, there is one more pleasing quality Madhu has. She taught me how to make coffee..Was she the role model for Indian 'chai' masters? Or is she a 'paan' maker?. She opened all the bottles in the tray and took one tea spoon of everything and filled the cup. She was about to open that bottle containing caustic soda. I gave a red alert. Oops, she still managed to get a 'haute' hot coffee. It literally burnt my tongue. (Madhu, kidding, you made real good coffee...in fact it can give Starbucks coffee a run for its money).

Madhu, don’t you think you have become a newsmaker?

Elie is putting behind India tomorrow but something else today

2007-06-29T04:28:00.000-07:00

Our company has done a lot on e-marketing and e-learning. It has not stopped looking further. The quest for making it big has landed in trapping a good find. He is similar to e-commerce…and he is called e-lie. Please read it as e-lee. Elie is in India. Everyone knows he joined the i2K family very recently.

Elie has captured Chennai vividly in his still camera, right from food to people, to small cars, untidy bikes, and so on. I am not sure how the camera lens gathered a speck of dust – my vehicle is as clean as a document reviewed by Bill!!!

Fine, Elie enjoyed and is still enjoying every moment of the wayward traffic and the crowd. Poor Elie, he always gets into the driver’s seat forgetting that India follows right hand driving. But, he realizes in the nick of the moment, right before he sits on Sashi’s lap. Hear somebody screaming?!

June 29, 2007. The day i2Keans probably love dating with ABN AMRO Bank. Hey, but here is another reason to celebrate. Someone’s inwardly happy because it is his birthday today. Let me give you a clue. He is handsome. Are you finding it difficult to figure out? Let me knock out two answers from the four. Sashi and Shuaib. The two left are Gayathri and Elie.

Got it? Go wish him till he blushes.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELIE......

A decade gone, rocking in romance ...my wedding anniversary yar

2007-05-28T21:11:00.000-07:00

Can you believe this? I have been married for 10 years and celebrated the anniversary on May 28. It was a nice feeling to hear the phone pealing incessantly the whole day. My brother called me and said ‘for all that accident that happened 10 years ago, my best wishes to relive the pain many more years’.

But, he only reminded me of the pain that I took to con a girl of my choice to marry me a decade ago. I dived into the archives, I mean reverie, and rummaged some of the most savoury moments. In this jet-set life, we hardly ever do that. We tend to keep pushing years behind work, money, and directionless life. How many of us care for sparing a few moments in a day to hobnob with our wives to keep them joyous? I don’t do it.

Ten years down and I have learnt a lot. I am not narcissistic anymore. As long as you are single, it has been proven beyond doubt that self-centredness gets into one’s head. From the practical point of view, one doesn’t know how to manage life. Marriage helps one to understand management. In fact, you don’t need to MBA to learn crisis situations, and how to tackle them. Crisis situations occur within and without the realms of family.

One can understand what responsibility is, how to reconcile when things get hotter between husband and wife, how to make up and resume the life in a much sweeter way.

'The culture has changed' and 'I want to stand on my own legs' are some of the arguments both men and women would like to sell to abandon marriage plans. Some feel they are stronger when they are solo and don’t have to depend on others.

Plan and organize, implement and evaluate, execute, monitor and control, close. We, in the IT sector, follow all these steps to execute a project and will not shy away from going back and forth any number of times to ensure the project is perfectly completed. What about life?

Life is a vicious witch. So be it. Why can’t you be J.K Rowling or a Harry Potter? Take the vanguard and cruise along the happiest moments. It is a feeling the married lot will understand, the-about-to-marry will enjoy.

You live once, so lose not the chance to be with your choicest partner. In God’s WBS, every one of us fits in.

By the way, don't think like a TV anchor person. Vajpayee and Abdul Kalam did not marry and have they failed in their life? Yes, they have. They could not find the right girl, a sassy one! And, why do you want to model your life based on X, Y, Z. Your life and better you take command over it.

Can you pour a cup of coffee in this goblet?....

2007-05-28T21:09:00.000-07:00

I dab code. Can you crack this code? This is how a person with nasal congestion would have conveyed that ‘I have cold’. I don’t know how many of you remember this ad for a balm.

Forget it. We had a balmy day at a party organized by Suresh and Selva of i2K. Half way through, I heard the clinging goblets and claptrap from forked tongues. After all, the team didn’t know what it wanted to say and what it meant.

Drank you Suresh, Jeers Jelba (Thank you Suresh, Cheers Selva)…the team sipped, snacked, and sang praises of these two. It all began in a somber mood, but that was just a transient phase. After that it was small, medium, and large. You thought I am talking about that Hutch commercial. Hogwash! The glasses and goblets, the sound and fury, marked the occasion and the team was all game for getting soaked at Casino.

In fact all went the whole hog, except me who had very little!!! Believe it or not! There were some who took shine to wine, who bloated their belly with beer and floated in the air, rumbled their stomach with Rum, wolfed down Vodka, and what not.

Ayyapan had to be sandwiched between Selva and Vishwanathan as the tall wiry, lanky programmer swayed like a weak twig. But, he went on saying ‘I’ll never lose my anchor’ and would immediately drop like a heavily wind-beaten tree top. He had the gut feeling to gobble down as many as Selva could. Appreciable, but the sad fact is he headed straight to his house before he started swearing.

Ramki didn’t shrug when he was offered a glass of wine and with his marriage coming round the corner he held the glass in his hands and hid his face behind Prakash that made it look as if Prakash was drinking with both hands. Anyway, Suresh was too quick to pounce on it and snapped a shot using his camera, the result is that the image was as blurred as he was then.

By the way, Suresh would throw off the handle if you ever underestimate his social status vis-à-vis his ability to booze. “Come on man, I have been in the IT industry for so long, do you think I wouldn’t drink”. Please note that he wasn’t drunk when he said this.

There was one person, (who else?) BL Narayanan, who didn’t take anything but ensured all hell broke loose. He was jiving, thumping, gallivanting around, making noises. I think he noticed a director and was trying to parade his histrionics. Acting comes so naturally to him.

Vishwa was a treat to watch. He made a mince meat of others drinking, joking, and picking fond quarrel with bartenders and waiters. He would love to work in a pub I guess. That is where he is more vociferous and forthcoming. I cannot forget the hug I received from him before we left the pub. Isn’t this enough to create a lasting hangover?

My identity

2007-05-11T02:45:00.001-07:00

If you are not skeptical about research, please visit the link and you will see me. No bragging intended.

www.asiafellow.net/fellowship/fellowship02.html

I wouldn't say you will get engrossed in it.

Interview Blues

2007-04-23T07:34:00.000-07:00

Gone were the days when interviews used to be jittery. Now, I take it in my own stride. But, all depends on my frame of mind that day. You can put it down to laxity on my part or draped in mindless over confidence. Whatever is the outcome, I still manage to make the panel, (you will always find one bad egg trying to convict you in the stand), resent my presence. However, it is a wisp of a thought I entertain.

But, I am observant and my inquisitive nature helps me to evaluate the interviewers, their intentions to rub me on the wrong side so that I will turn down the offer, (reason cited - overqualified) or someone asking flaky questions that you would feel like ‘sitting in front of a moron and listening to gibberish’.

Someone asked me if I was staying at home because I had zillions of rupees in my account. It is of no consequence to the person if I were a pauper or a person pumping in money into all sorts of business. It was his tack to corner me and dismember my spunk to drive a hard bargain.

He even went on to say that my entire resume could be filtered to three pages. I wondered if he was a magician before. Or, was he an immaculate DTP worker? I had answers to these gaffes. But, inwardly I was chuckling to myself and enjoyed being at the receiving end.

But, head honchos are bent on making bitchy remarks. They hardly know how to assess someone’s calibre. For all you know, not to boast, my resume speaks half what I do and beaver away. Here is a small advice from me to freshers who plunge into IT field. Don’t bury your head into the sand when you face such people. Be pragmatic, and if annoying questions come your way, don’t fail to tame the ringmasters. It is your intellectual capital that should get the better of everything and don’t play into the hands of ‘capitalism’ at the cost of throwing to winds the effort you took to learn what you are capable of implementing today.

"Mayakannadi" - Broken sight

2007-04-20T04:58:00.000-07:00

I hoped Cheran’s movie “Mayakannadi’ will keep me hooked and so booked tickets for fourteen of my family members. In the end, I treated them to a drowsy fare and literally half of them were snoring making Ilayaraja’s score dumb.

Cheran’s last two movies were box-office hits that helped him shoot to fame like the circus girl parading the ground sitting cozily on an elephant’s trunk. But, what will happen when the elephant runs amok? Chaos sets in and cacophony jars your ears. Are you ready for that? Then, the film is fascinating than anything else.

After preparing the concept, Cheran had made a short work of his script without caring for connecting threads properly. All the more, he barked up the wrong tree by choosing a topic that is too difficult to handle without soaking it with drama. The travails of the self-indulging and far-from-pragmatic youth are common but while transporting the same to the silver screen, Cheran appeared to have taken forty winks now and then. Stripped of the emotional elements needed to grip you, it becomes arguable if he is another director who languished in the lap of the ‘lady luck’ luxury, eventually careening down the Everest summit.

The movie is not a viewer’s feast but squalor of sorts. If you intend to (men alone!) see the movie making some sense, watch it all sloshed. Probably, you may be able to put together hazy fragmented pieces of weird scenes. And, it does not put a heavy burden on your intellectual quotient. For, you do not need to think.

Am I coming too strong on the movie? I am helpless as that is what the movie delivers. Cheran, will you be able to rally round and tantalize our hearts, to say the least? Not another fiasco, a sizzler rather. Or, you will become a has-been, sire. And, don’t give us false hopes. By the way, it wasn’t your movie, isn’t it? You made ‘Panchu Arunachalam’ beat his breasts. There is drama outside the movie. On that score, congratulations, Cheran!

2007-04-13T03:27:00.000-07:00

I have heard of back-to-back centuries smitten by in-form batsmen. If the batsman is from our country, our joy can be likened to the bohemian dance Leonardo de Caprio performs with Kate Winslet. But, if it’s the batsman from the opposite team, the tragedy of Titanic gets the better of us.

Contrary to this sports analogy, a pall of grief bogs me down. Why? Two of my friends are leaving one after another. It is true they have robust personal reasons. But, the two had been my kindred spirits. Irrespective of a brief friendship fling with them, parting sometimes have a devil of an effect on us.

Well, yesterday, it was Rama, and today it is Abhirami. I knew Abhirami since the day she interviewed me for a position in i2k. She had a spokesperson and refused to talk to me. She remained silent and I don’t remember who broke the ice. She does not put on airs as I initially thought her to be. She is simple and quite an introvert.

Who said so?

I imagine her sending a message through IM. ‘I am a woman dubbed the doughtiest at heart’. I have skyped with her and her voice would sound as if she sidestepped into a well and talking to me while navigating her way up. I don’t intend to make fun of her; she is such a workaholic that she has no time for any asides.

I can only sing paeans of her attributes. I don’t make friends easily but Abhirami was one rare human being I struck a common chord with. We share common traits. In these two months, she gave me lots of inputs that helped to anchor our friendship.

As I am writing this piece, she will be gobbling down one – I mean a piece of cake. She is having a farewell ceremony in Singapore. What can team India do apart from waiting in wings for the cake to be couriered to us? Oh, I am asking her if she is sending cake to us. She sends a smiley suggesting ‘grin and bear’.

I must say that I enjoyed working with her. She scares me at times and delegates a band of people to shoo me away. Just in case, you are not too familiar using smileys, she will unleash them one after another and you stay puzzled rather than getting thrilled about.

A small fabricated interview with Abhirami:

Interviewer:What do you think is your major strength?
Abhirami: Gives a whack on the interviewer’s head. Does that answer your question?

(The interviewer gets up shuddering in boots and is soaked in fear. He has moved close to the window in her office floor.)

Interviewer:What is your next push?
Abhirami: She gives the interviewer a ‘Chandramukhi’ stare. Walks toward him and pushes him out of the window.

Luckily, the man falls into a swimming pool. He is steadfast too. Abhirami comes down to the ground floor.

Interviewer: If someone is in distress, will you sympathize with the person?
Abhirami: She looks at the interviewer. Don’t I? You are one example. If I had not, do you think you will be alive and chasing me like this.

She calls him and when he comes close to her, she pulls down the glass model of the building.

All your acts break established conventions. Why is it so madam?
Abhirami: I love to be different.

Yes, she is different and unique. And, here she signs off and smileys will cease to imperil you. Keep in touch with us Abhirami. Hey, for all you know, she is a friend whom I have never met before. And, I wish her happy career and life ever after. Not economizing on words, but not getting enough of them. Bye and take care.

Bon voyage...Rama

2007-04-12T03:58:00.000-07:00

It was such a silent no-noise farewell to an equally silent colleague, who has such a loud flair for humour. In fact, we had competed with each other in trying to remain as soft as possible in communicating with each other. Rama sits right behind me and had a dubious distinction of pulling the legs of Selva and Ram. Poor fellows, sitting beside me, they either laugh if her ‘fun blast’ is too good and gentle. Else, they turn frigid for want of words.

I don’t know when she joined i2k but two months of my friendship with her reveals that she is ‘brand perfect’. And, she is calling it quits as she has got a better offer. Shall we say ‘marriage’? Yes, she is getting married and bingo she is flying to the U.S. in two months’ time. Her humour will create ripples in the chins of so many of those ‘way to go’ crusaders.

Next time, when she returns to India, I don’t think she will crack jokes in a subdued tone. She will open the can and let her fun out to help us go on a roll like nothing. That said, continue to be in that vein, and I wish you, on behalf of i2k, a happy and harmonious married life.

By the way, do you have any plans of hosting a show similar to ‘Kalakkapovathu Yaru’ in the U.S. or something similar to ‘Whose line is it anyway’? If so, we are behind you Rama. A small advice: Have the speaker on when you speak. Wondering that pot is calling the kettle black!!! Good luck.

At last, it did happen

2007-03-23T01:12:00.001-07:00

I thought I had slipped through the net from getting hounded by my colleagues for my birthday celebration. But, they chased me the next day and gave perfect cake bleach. My wife would have loved to see me dabbed with so many colourful hues. On the other hand, many in the office waited with vengeance to go on a splashing warfare and my face did serve well as a broad canvas for them to play on. Imagine what I ended up looking as – clown without that blot on my nose and a caricature-like cap.

All said, I could not stomach the slur from Sashi. He has addressed me ‘Hi Oldie’ in the Birthday card given to me. With age comes grace, and I am young at heart. No takers!! Sashi is my age and doesn’t like my being handsome! Sorry, Sashi, it is god-given. But, you went to the length of poking my eyes with the icing. Thank God, the icing was not black. Otherwise, I would have had a black eye.

In a way, I am fortunate to have Radhika, the CEO of i2k, to celebrate my birthday. At least, she pitied me seeing my smacked face. I think the attack would have been more savage if the CEO had not been here. I guess so. Radhika, just imagine what an alien they would have made out of me. Thanks for saving embarrassment.

Sweet nothings

2007-03-23T01:12:00.000-07:00

The newly wed, and those who are engaged, waiting sorely to hitch up, love mobile phones the most than their significant other. I am not kicking up a shindy, as I too had been a victim once. But, in my time, mobile phones were not fashionable. Today, these sleek portable phones are carriers of a fund of intimate feelings. No bugging please! Do you ask me if it is measurable? Airtel, Hutch (recently sold to Vodafone) and Aircel have their cash registers ringing.

What do these young hearts transmit? Not a lecture on marketing communication. I have noticed many wearing a grin and letting ears belch smoke. Mouths make merry while ears are not. Is this justifiable, righteous? I see a girl trying to find a place like nothing on earth with no human beings around. She walks happily towards the window as if there is a spacecraft waiting by the window side to take her to the moon. She is moon struck!!! No doubt about it.

My brother (I unabashedly objectify every self including me – sorry) brought home a big bundle of paper. I thought he was becoming inclined to reading a lot. Unethical though, I grabbed them and went through it. You won’t believe it he has taken a print out of what he and his would be had chatted for 8 months. Perfect database management!!

In fact, I grew interest in studying the cultural context (discourse analysis) in which the entire transcript had evolved. I was only too greedy of prying into his private affairs. They have discussed from psychology (wow, Freud and Jung) to pornography. How dubious people can get, eh?

Now, what do you think girls and boys are exchanging over the phones? I don’t have the habit of overhearing anyone’s conversation. But, my hunch says it will be more of ‘Debonair’ and ‘Cosmopolitan’ magazines. If there are couples who defend saying ‘we talk about world affairs’, hey, you are ill-paired.

Let us accept mobile phones help break free from tradition. I have a friend who is or used to be devout. He is still religious, but now to his married life. I was goofy thinking he would speak to the girl only after marriage. Nice guy, but not as stupid as I am. Every day, he burnt a hole in his pocket as well as his and her ears.

Sweet nothings, they contain a potpourri of giggling, laughing, dreaming, planning (I would say dreaming again), smooching, crying at times, begging (boys do this a lot), and some popcorn stuff. Enjoy and leave something left to speak after marriage.

If it reads good, compose

2007-03-05T03:32:00.000-08:00

My heart is in a drunken frenzy
Can you see me going tipsy?
My legs walk their way to glory
My foot is up, and I feel breezy

When I met her last on stage
She was clad in scarlet rage
I caught her eyes bang on straight
She tipped me down with her lashes bright

I went to the bar wet with hopes
And walked myself through the rocking crowd
The stage was full as much as my heart
A rush of joy tickled my spine

The drum beats rose wild in tempo
I tiptoe to stage to give her a surprise
My eyes roved and she was not to be there
She gave a shock and my heart beats blared

Where is my love?
I cried and laughed
No body heard the odd sound I made
Every one was in a mood so high

My legs again went north and south
She has gone stealing my heart
It stings me hard, oh, painful it is
For all you know, my life is a vacuum now

Painted i2k red

2007-03-02T03:10:00.000-08:00

Ayyappan, i2k employee and my colleague, working in Chennai office is writhing in discomfort. For, it is his birthday today and he has been trying to draw everyone’s attraction since morning. He rose to his feet several times to wish us ‘good morning’ with an enigmatic smug on his face. The point he wanted to drive home was ‘My birthday’. On hindsight, some of us realized he had ‘kumkum’ on his forehead and we could relate it to his attempt to make us see through his trick. Eventually, he shed his vanity, lost his patience and cried out the truth in IM. But, he sent it to only one and that spread like wild fire in no time.

In the evening, we gave him a sweet birthday celebration. It was a cake-cutting ritual. The birthday baby appeared after all of us gathered in the conference hall. The flame of the lit candle shimmied. Getting wind of the fragile flame, he blew it off. The song accompanied following the act. Even as he carefully sliced the cake, mobile phone cameras were in full force catching his blush. Later, he was force-fed and the white icing was scraped onto his face. The chin glowed gloriously. And someone wittily remarked ‘Time to shave off his five o’ clock shadow’. What else? We all had our share of joy and ate the cake too. Now, awaiting the next victim!

No pals on this day!

2007-02-28T03:00:00.000-08:00

We have hit the most sensational day of the year. Hearts are dripping with emotions galore. Lovey-dovey couples, mostly unmarried boys, bust their brains out to buy the most fanciful eve-catching gifts. A ring, or a diamond, if you could afford, can win the heart for good. Aching love makes girls ache for diamonds too?!

Girls too dole out their presents. Those who are not well-heeled, resort to writing poems gushing with poignant pointers. Immersion in such textual universe is as good as sauntering to space under the vast blanket of all planets. Are you up in the air, flapping your wings like the all-white glittering angels? You have every reason to go on a rampage, smooching, playing footsie, and so on. But, don’t become a junkie, I mean overstep your limits. It is not a day to let loose your fanaticism over sacred feelings. Express, but don’t be an express falling a prey to distasteful desires.

A week back, I was speaking to my friend who is enjoying bachelorship, temporarily though. His wife’s absence has driven him crazy and he started muttering under his breath. I tried to sugarcoat his wounded heart. He continued in lighter vein ‘Nothing like fighting with my soul mate’. I stepped back to gauge his next salvo. He said ‘all it takes to bully my wife is by taking an aim at my father-in-law; just utter ‘your useless dad’ and that one word will set in motion an epic monologue rolling from her tongue breathing fire and brimstone.

I called him up today to find out if he rang up his wife to say a few pleasing words. My friend said I married to uphold convention. I knew he was kidding. Unfortunately, he has a heart that melts for money not his ‘honey’.

By the way, married men, be apologetic about your old indiscretions on this day. It may work wonders. But, don’t pump up your applause with poetry. For all you know, she might pick holes on your once-in-a-year attempt at prose writing (what you deem as poetry). Get her a diamond. Even if you borrow money at dizzying interest rates, that fetches bliss par excellence to her.

Hey, I keep forgetting that I am married and have two kids. Too bad, isn’t it?

Prabhu, Shiva, Praveen, Prem, Anjana, Raghav.....

2007-02-05T05:28:00.000-08:00

I was surprised to see my old students at the wedding ceremony. Eight of them had turned up and all are well placed. They made me feel younger by five years because that is when they passed out. The moment they saw me, a kind of smug with warmth illuminated their faces. I knew they were recounting the past, their indiscretions and the way I read the Riot Act. The smile slowly burst into laughter as I got closer to them and I hugged them all (not girls dudes). I was too happy when one of them noted that I look the same as I used to be five years ago. I could feel the blood rising and playing rock and roll within me. I looked at my colleague who had also come down from Coimbatore and who I was seeing after two years. She looked portly. No offence intended.

I still remember the trip I had gone with these students to Thiruvanathapuram. They confronted me on all counts. They defied me and cared less for whatever I said. I was their Head (Head of the Department). Their attitude was ‘so what?’ However, the second day, the temperament changed and we had good fun in a water theme park. I danced with them and they could not believe themselves that I would become so down-to-earth. Later, while changing my dress in the men’s room, I was wearing a tee-shirt and the essential. The t-shirt was long enough and cavorted around my knees. All of a sudden, one of the students held me from behind and another clicked. The snap so turned out that a part of my thigh was seen and it was all over the college. No one blackmailed me though.

But, at the wedding function, they blackmailed me for fun. The person who held me to get that awkward pose has become silent. He is quiet and has become a good screenplay writer. Prabhu joined the crowd little late and recollected the past. Even I was not short of playing jokes on him. One of his classmates was head over heels in love with him and he would run away on seeing her. But, he swooned over another girl who has become the wife of a professor in that college.

Anjana was the last to step onto the stage. The boys booed calling her ‘Ms. Coimbatore’. I guess she won the title once. She is getting married to a doctor this April and Prabhu announced she is marrying Doctor Prakash. Praveen, a nerd, has transgressed the limits of rules unthinkably. Shiva was doubling with laughter every moment Prabhu came up with his witty remarks.

Shiva, a quiet person, inadvertently cracked a steamy joke. Kavin, the bridegroom walked with Nisha, the bride. We believe the ‘metty’ – ring worn in one of the fingers in the leg- was giving nuisance to her. Probably, she was feeling uncomfortable wearing it. Kavin bent down and hopefully tried to fix it. Shiva said ‘Kavin is screwing up her ring’. Prabhu quipped ‘it is too early’. In all, we created an audience for us. But, parting was really painful. In the evening, I received a call from Prabhu asking me as to why I did not turn up for the reception. I felt he was sleuthing to find out if I was hobnobbing with some one. Hey, Prabhu, are you listening?

Moonstruck and got married...

2007-02-04T10:36:00.000-08:00

One of my students working in Chennai got married to a girl from Germany. It all happened so fast, love and intimacy. The boy, I wouldn’t say he is a misogynist, had fallen into the clutches of romance before. But, he did not commit much. He used to be a cat on the fence, wanting to jump neither this side nor the other way. I admire him because he is talented, level-headed, and has gone through the rough and tumble of life. Mostly, luxury has been his close ally. Six months back when I met him, he puckered his nose and dismissed the thought of marriage.

Two months after, he told me and my colleague that he has found his match. She is working in London, Germany citizen, but hails from Sri Lanka. How did it work out? Relationships do not require face-to-face meetings or interactions. He chanced into her on the Internet and it all started as friendship. Later, it blossomed into love but both did not have the gut feeling to disclose it to each other. Fright filled their minds. What if the proposal is rejected? The girl’s parents started looking for bridegroom and she discussed it with my student. He pained at heart and slowly reduced the frequency and time talking to her. She sensed something wrong and asked him what was ailing him. He exploded and the truth gushed out. The girl said ‘this is what I have been expecting to hear from you’.

We got introduced to her over phone. And the marriage took place recently. Made for each other couple. Working in London, the girl looked ‘Indianish’ and looked like a next door neighbour. We had real good fun on their wedding, because I got to meet some of my talented old students. They had us splitting on the sides. More on that in the next post.

Are you a seasoned player?

2007-02-04T10:31:00.000-08:00

How many of you are impatient when happiness smolders or a pall of gloom traps you? Many of us get worked up for both and might not know how to handle the two extreme feelings. On hindsight, you will find that you went too far celebrating your luck or lamenting in a heart-rending manner. They are not a show of valour or discretion, but crass immaturity.

When jobs gate crash your way, you start walking on air. It is worth taking pride in the fact that you are a goose laying golden eggs. However, the best counseling is to clam up shut and click on your desirable choice. I suggest you show humbleness rather than demonstrate ‘hubric’ or arrogance.

There are many who let the joy or sorrow linger about in the corridors of their heart. Even torture will be a blunt tool to evict truth from them. These are people who play their cards close to their chest. Presto, they will gift you a surprise one day. Meantime, they try to dig out as much information from you, and your plans go public courtesy their relaying capabilities. They may do it with sleazy intentions or with no evil purpose.

So, hold your own and update those who ought to be told what you are doing and where you are headed to. Sometimes, you need to filter information about your personal lives before you let it trickle down to your parents. That is, getting overjoyed or bogged down by a baggage of worries should not be your staple lifestyle. I talk up the moment my hands are full with jobs. Equally, I become reclusive on being greeted with seedy moments. This would not take us too far.

Interestingly, I see my friends become mild-mannered when it comes to suspending joy and ‘buoy’ as well as gloom and depression. There is also fear among certain people that letting loose will take away their chances. Well, every moment is a challenge, and let us become seasoned players in this world.

Will the myth cast a good spell on our cricket?

2007-01-16T10:20:00.000-08:00

While reading about old myths, I came across a Greek game played centuries ago. I am not sure if our pampered cricket players are aware of it. By the way, I must mention that they have been doing all they could to make the fetished game a fad. Good, by watching them we are able to purge our emotions and passion and I believe the number of cricket fans will soon start dwindling and will not invest time and effort to get themselves gravitated to fours and sixes. The heroes are turning anti-heroes for the betterment of society. It is off everyone’s radar.

That said, what would make them take the game by its horns? Forget, they have been dodging so far. The mythology seems to provide some answer. It is not practically applicable. However, a shred of its penalty will hold up, I suppose.

The mythological game is a game of life and death. Two teams clash to put a ball through an iron ring. And the team that loses has to pay the price. It is not waiving off of a match fee, or imposition of fine or banning the team from playing matches. The price is a person's life, who mostly happens to be the captain of the losing team. The person would be decapitated and the story inscribed on paintings or cave walls. It illustrates better the decadence of games played then and the highly atypical games played by our folks now. Loss is inevitable, but continuous drubbing both at domestic and at international levels will suck our men's confidence leaving them high and dry. After all, who am I to drum this into the skulls of great players?

Veyil....too hot to handle

2006-12-23T22:16:00.000-08:00

In a novel, suspense can be heightened only when possibilities or alternatives are narrowed down or reduced. If there are quite a number of possible happenings, the plot is more of hammocks than a tight rope walk. I went to a movie going by the ratings given by one of the local channels. After the show, I realized two facts; one, what and who to trust in media as far as non-fiction is concerned and secondly the fiction (movie in question) is the perfect example for banality.

With the death of stardom and influx of new heroes who are ready to star for pittance, movies are dime a dozen these days. Now, when there are too many movies, which one to watch? I naturally tend to rely on media that holds forth or gives an erratic, misleading review of a movie. Finally, you end up watching a drivel. That is Veyil for me, a movie I watched recently.

The movie is an uncluttered store which makes finding goods a treasure hunt. If a viewer’s brain is studied using EEG I am sure he/she will experience a tremulous moment to understand the movie. Nothing is intensive enough to captivate the audience. Heroines in the movie look like they are spectators occasionally pulled onto stage to taste the soup the director has prepared and say whether it is ‘good’ or ‘bad’. When love starts sprouting, the monster plot stamps on it.

Is it a story about a wretched life of a brother (Pasupathi) who leaves his house after suffering humiliation at the hands of his father? One can assume so, but the director has failed to connect this event in the succeeding scenes. His attempt to fly a kite and control it without the thread is appreciable! Similarly, his brother’s (Bharat) venture into advertising and the conflict that surrounds it makes it a wishy-washy excuse to maintain suspense or surprise. And, it has been used to remind the viewers that there exists a conflict. Forcefully entered into the script, it shows some element of realism only in the end. The effort to reach this end must have been a strenuous exercise.

But, the brothers have acted well, especially Pasupathi is a delight to watch, from his childhood days, to a film operator in a cinema hall and the forlorn life he spends in the latter half of the movie. His performance is remarkable when he is psychologically devastated between a jobless life and his father's wrath. But, that is inadequate to salvage the flaws that produced many boos and jeers from the audience.

Want to marry four women.....

2006-12-11T05:04:00.000-08:00

I have wondered if one can manage a harem or four wives, as my religious dictum is interpreted. I am not so learned to validate or dismiss this. But, my hunch says that the situation then might have required the warriors who survived to marry the widows of the dead. And, there is a caveat involved in it. It is not proposed or advocated to sate one’s inner wishes. If one has the financial resources to run life smoothly marrying four, then nothing stops. Today, my wife would not want anyone to occupy her space. It may happen outside married life but it does not mean you are wedded to others. It is rather perceived a pervert behaviour to have too many hanging around one. And, it is nothing but infidelity to marriage. I am not getting into the debate of permanence of marriage. So, the religion serves something and the societal structure prescribes some norms.

In a related conversation with a Chinese friend, I explained the reasons behind 'circumcision'. I told him that it keeps the organ clean. And, the second reason is it keeps the sexual orgasm under check so that one would not want to indulge in extramarital or premarital affairs or sexual activities forbidden by the religion. My Malaysian friend from India, sitting nearby, immediately asked ‘if you don’t want to enjoy the height of sexuality, why would you want to marry four women? I had no answers. In fact, I jolted with a start. But, the message is marrying four needs to be seen as a gesture to help three more lead a decent life. What is decency?!!!! Philosophically, it is a representation of what you imagine and how you define it. Let us not forget, that we are living in an era where marriage is founded on materialism. I mean from penny and pelf to corporeal pleasures. And, with individualism gaining importance, who bothers what tradition has to say? Not my view....

Is variety the 'slice' of life?

2006-11-27T08:11:00.000-08:00

When I am still coming to grips with the range of mobile phone devices available in the market, my wife seems to have been bitten by the bug of new gadgets. I never thought of getting her a mobile phone, which is too worse for a caring husband. I thought I can call her on the landline from my office and she does not need one. She is a being who keeps her wish list close to her chest and expects me to understand what she might require.

At another level, when I myself have not become mobile phone savvy, I doubted her ability to handle it. For the simple reason that she might find it tough to use it, I mean all of those features in the device. Why? She is semi-literate. But, I never knew she has learnt or acquired the knowledge to use it from her family, as her father is the dealer of a mobile phone service provider. I can’t tell the same with my son because he has an irresistible obsession with anyone’s mobile phone he teaches me at times.

One day she came out open expressing her desire that she needs a mobile phone. She never told me she needed it as she sees everybody carrying it when they go out. Instead, she cited the use-value of it and the flexibility of being in touch with me anytime. I wondered how this thought eluded me. Immediately, I bought a relatively cheaper device (no colour) and she started using it sparingly.

Since her father was a dealer, I asked her to get a free post-paid card from him. She got one but that was usable only for a month. Her father said he would get another one but strictly told her to use it for incoming calls. She waited and the card never came. The device was slowly lapsing into a museum piece.

Meantime, she indirectly told that colour phones look good. Ads provide alternatives. So, I got her an old device but it was small. When she saw it, she grimaced. And, I got the message. She used it as by then the card had come. Two weeks after, she saw an advertisement for a flip model. It kept coming on the air and she would pinch me to look at it. She shifted her choice to that. I have been saying ‘I will buy it for you’. But, it has been months and I have not stopped mouthing it whenever she raises the issue.

What is stopping me? Indifference and not so much as finance. She wants me to buy land, a house, mobile phones, and take up insurance for my sons. I can’t choose all, but if I am to choose one, which one is that going to be? Waiting to sit with her for a discussion..

I got it, broke it, got it ..a mobile member in my family

2006-11-15T02:28:00.000-08:00

There may not be many addicted to hashish as much as to technology. I had wantonly abandoned buying a mobile phone when it had become a toy in the hands of common people. I did not buy it for any principle, but my earnings then intimidated me to go for an instrument. Eventually, my friend presented a mobile phone to me. That was in the year 2000, three years after my marriage.

It took some time for me to become familiar using it. I was frisking the instrument like a security person pressing the buttons whimsically. Mostly, I used the phone to speak to the one who presented it. She built a personal space and raised a boundary line around me with just one entrance.

Five months down the line, the instrument conked out and the dealer declared it dead. I buried it along with bundles of memories it had entertained. I was phoneless for a year. Once again, she got me another instrument, which lasted for more than two years. I spelled the doom one day when my wife made a poser to my presumably reasonable action. Impulsively, I threw the phone only to find it lying in shambles. I rearranged the parts in desperation, but it was like infusing life into the dead. However, I could patch up with my wife.

I knew well the ‘other’ would not get another one. I had not the landline connection too. I waited for a while and a circumstance arose demanding me to buy a cell phone. I bought a piece, a sleek one at that. After using for a month, I felt uncomfortable and switched over to Nokia. Too good to be true.

After a couple of months, I got a job in a metropolis, and I relocated. The weather, I suppose, was not agreeable to my mobile. It became cranky and that was the last time I heard from it or used it. I couldn’t sell it too.

Now, I did not want to wait and bought a colour mobile for the first time in the year 2005. As we have been married for sometime, it has become common to fall apart and whenever there were temper tantrums, the mobile phone bore the brunt of it. Because, it is always in your hands.

Another mobile emerged and thank god it lasted a year. I gifted it to my brother and have bought a new one. A sleek model, as thin as glass sheet and a model’s waist from the lateral perspective! Now, my wife also uses one. She never realized the need for it till a year ago. I got her one and she wants the one advertised on TV – a flip model. I need to so that she can keep herself busy cooking and chatting, apart from watching television. Does she do the first part? My son has to answer.

It is beckoning...

2006-11-14T06:14:00.000-08:00

Religion is indeed a bulwark or a barometer that has metrics for life. It allows you what to do and what to restrain from. I had and still have unshakeable faith in it. Of late, I have begun questioning my loyalty to it. Why should I? For the simple reason that I am living in a metropolitan city where everything is taken for granted. Wow, the pull of dynamism the city is constantly fuelled with is another factor one can easily turn vulnerable to a bevy of girls, or changed entertainment hang outs, and the level of intimacy between boys and girls too. Technology plays a part.

Some are explicit and easily weave into the demands of life that are more threatening than AIDS. Some look with a protective colouring of being a nerd. But, till some years pass by, I think many would have unintentionally grown oblivious to religion. For those, who are conscious that religion condemns sex and the like, they become hostage to a streak of fragile desire playing footsie. The winner is rigid and the loser loves fantasy. Or, is that what you and I are in today’s contexts. If priests depose, many can be copped. Why priests, why not detectives? Like it or not, lewd it is, I am, to have a company, you are. Unfortunately, disclosing much can create ruckus among my family members. Hope, my wife is not reading this blog. She cannot understand. But is the society fine with me being like this?

Imagine, a brother-in-law residing in Thailand calling her sister-in-law to say that he had sex with a social worker. The wife is religious and the husband erred only once. Otherwise, he is such a nice person. He sees that as a sane act rather than a sin. Well, I can’t probe someone’s heart who is miles away.

Education, from then to now

2006-11-14T05:46:00.000-08:00

What is my father made up of? I keep boasting to all that he is strong-willed. Even at the age of 65, he is not daunted by any circumstances, be it devastating or malicious. But, he has got another side to his self. Abhorrent though it is, I barely hold forth on that part. He has always been hot-headed fuming fury and sound. Whatever he might have been, he used to tell us how he and his siblings used to walk about 13 miles to go to school carrying the lowest denominations of Indian coins that cease to exist today, probably ceded to demands of globalisation. (Globalisation has dissolved old patterns, may be for good or for bad).

I went to the same school as though to continue the legacy of the entire family making a record of sorts. On one occasion, my father did not have two rupees to give me for bus transport. It has created an irreversible account in my memory. Later, he pawned my mother’s gold bangles to see me through engineering course. Of course, I failed his expectations and in spite of all physical hard-hitting I had received even for lame reasons, he went an extra mile to put me in the desired college. I am not still sure if he took recourse to that action not to let his ego disarmed by brickbats from his community or society.

Thanks to the Almighty, I got a seat through merit and he got his money back. Coming to what is happening today, I am terribly shocked by unscrupulous institutions jolly well collecting capitation fees in the name of whatnot. When I was working with an institution, I was delegated to conduct entrance test for the applicants. After the test was over, I went in to sit with the director and discuss who could be absorbed based on merit. He listened to all ‘gyan’ quietly and called the one who had performed miserably. The director told the applicant that he would have to pay one lakh as his performance was below par. What a farce and hogwash was the entrance test? At one point of time, I had no other option of endorsing such a malfeasance and becoming a privy to it influenced by the institutional norms.

Today, most of the institutions are functioning based on this motive. Recently, my relative complained to me that his institution is charging breakage fee for not having broken anything! Now, I have my own fears as I have two sons. How many lakhs of rupees do I need to save in order to put them in a college? Do you say it is high time I made investments so that the two kids won’t blame me if anything goes wrong? Who can take a stern action to nail a last coffin in the merciless management of all these private institutions? Let me know if you have a solution!!

The astrologer never predicted it....

2006-11-03T01:54:00.000-08:00

Whether or not our career and life ride on the crest of joy, we cannot hold back when we see a link on a site tempting us to click to chat with one of the famous astrologers. I am no exception and kept a close watch at the timing when the astrologer would be online.

Twelve noon, I entered the site and navigated to the link. When I clicked it, I saw the screen with questions arranged cheek by jowl. The astrologer was also giving answers to questions. But, he was thrifty and mostly uttered a rhetoric of ‘Next year may be good’, ‘Career looks promising’, ‘Not the right time to do it’ kind of stuff. I could not make it whether the astrologer was trying to be diplomatic and if the whole chat stunt was a promo.

I typed out my question and waited for 30 minutes or more awaiting some response. I would have none of it. I still hoped he would. Meantime, I wanted to read through the questions posted and the astrologer’s responses. It was a mix of funny questions and thankless answers.

As I was reading through four of the questions, I realized there was something strange about it. A viewer had given vent to his feelings, derisively asking the astrologer if he was feeling guilty of not being able to answer the question. The next message posted was strident in tone and the browser asked the astrologer to refund the money he paid towards career prediction. Since his predictions went phut, the browser asked the astrologer to return the money. There was also a message to online users to be wary of this astrologer and his predictions.

This will set us thinking whether to believe in astrology. When all odds are stacked up against us, we try to find solace in astrology. Is it a science or do we have to align ourselves with conscience aided by rationalism. Presaging, is that a prudent activity? I do not have an answer.

It is up to us to stretch or straighten up our stomach

2006-10-26T01:16:00.000-07:00

Special audience health magazines are dime a dozen in the market and even newspapers address health issues every week, once or twice though, on a new crop of illnesses that strike us all of a sudden when your knowledge about their insidious and debilitating ramifications is at its infancy.

The basic cause that is purported to be the vector of major health hazards in our later life is our irresistible instinct to let ourselves loose on gobbling up the ‘untouchables’. What are they? We know the answer but care to do little about it. We are junk food maniac, if not all, most of us are.

I know a group that indulges merrily in stacking up foodstuff in their stomach in an assembly line fashion. They are probably inclined to designing the interiors of the stomach with oily gourmet at the bottom (laying a strong foundation, perhaps). Over a period of time, it indeed develops a ring of protection for the ‘VIP stomach’ – ‘Z’ category security, eh? On top of the foundation, we build several floors and cap the intake with three scoops of ice cream. Several times a week and you will have a hemisphere (northern or southern, who knows?) that either dangles and gets bogged down by cumulative fat or just looks taut with no shrivels.

Recently, one of my relatives was operated upon for removing the bladder stone that troubled him much. But, he had a mountainous stomach, despite only being 30 years, that the surgeon had to dig into his stomach layers deep and he perspired before fathoming the bladder. Although it was a laporoscopic surgery, the thick sheet of fat gave the surgeon a run for his money.

Two days back, my wife, unusually, wanted me to get some junk food to eat. I believe the incessant rain and sudden change in temperature has made her long for something hot, spicy and that tastes good on her tongue. I went to a shop and could see a crowd milling to swallow hot vadas (deeply fried flour), and whatnot. I too got something and before leaving I saw a fruit vendor standing near the shop. He was selling chickoo fruits and came all the way to those busy eating the junk food. He asked all of us to taste it before we buy. He offered and no one bothered to care a hoot for his words. I knew eating fruits is logically the best way to keep your health fit. But, something stopped all of us. However, can anything stop us from putting on more weight or developing catastrophic health problems later in life? No.

We are putting risks in the back burner. But, that can lead to burning our fingers later, so much that our messy habits will burn a deep hole in our pockets too. BEWARE!

It is getting sultry

2006-10-09T05:35:00.000-07:00

Have you ever set your brain to think on a ‘pervert’ note, I mean in a positive and chaste way. That is what we call divergent thinking. You either have your mouth jockeyed open or the idea knocks your socks off. We do have creative brains and some work in a profession where they need to consciously think 360 degree and bring that precocious sediment to the surface.

On those lines, recently, my reporting head gave us all a visualization exercise. She gave abstract concepts and most of them thought in a linear pattern. I didn’t expect my team members (e-learning content developers) to bang their heads hard on the wall like Toby in one of the Harry Potter movies.

One of the concepts was Global warming. Everyone started writing a script, dramatizing globe, representing its sordid state, its suffering, despair and I am sure they would have become drained of emotions. Globe in fumes is one such commonly used image. The image has to be static. Suddenly, my thoughts leapt backwards and kindled memories from my mind mortuary. A student of mine suggested that a dragon be kept beside a dining table to keep the food warm. Her thought was outrageous but classy.

Little later, my reporting head sent an image for the same concept, which she mentioned she came across on the Internet. The moment I saw the image, I knew it was one of those outrageous but funny picture. The text explained the rest.

The image had a clothesline with intimate apparel hanging on it as shown in the image. The first one was very comprehensive, the second looked as if it is of spurious quality and had shrunk after a wash, the third was even smaller, and the fourth reminded me of ‘Baywatch’.

Can global warming make ladies write off wearing the apparel? I was told it provides comic relief. Yes, it does provide some relief. The progression peters down to a petty piece of cloth. Less wonder, if lingerie manufacturers glue to this idea and champion the cause of deforestation. Fell trees and sell skimpy stuff!

One journey, two reflections

2006-10-03T10:58:00.000-07:00

I was on the train going to my hometown to enquire about my relative’s bereavement. All the trains were packed to the full and my last minute effort could only get me a berth in one of the special trains. I knew it was going to be an extended travel and did not indulge in any fantasy of reaching the destination before noon. Special trains are ‘slaves’ waiting with caps in their hands when regular trains are crossing. Sometimes, the rhyming cacophony comes to an end. When trains don’t move, you are not put to sleep.

Forget it! The next day morning, I found to my surprise that the train was running on time. It reached a station with the din of platform change ringing alarm in the ears of those who snored like the humming fan at the ceiling.

Just then, I leapt out and gave my physique some twists and turns to relieve laziness and infuse some briskness. A man passed by and looked at me and another fellow passenger. He came closer to us. His forehead showed some patterns suggesting grief. And he started, ‘I don’t think the train will go beyond next station’. Curiously, we asked him ‘why?’ He said the chief minister of Tamil Nadu died early morning. I pulled out my mobile and contacted my wife in Chennai. When I told her the news, she switched on SUN News channel and asked if I just got up. I looked out and the man had disappeared.

I was reflecting on the joke he played on me. After some time, I took my research papers. My concentration slithered through words, windows, and a perky girl sitting nearby. I became observant and listened to her naughty conversation. She and her mom were having nice time. After a while, the girl started talking to herself. It was a soliloquy that made a lot of sense. It made me look at her with awe because you or I would not have thought about what she spoke in our life.

Now, I could not resist myself from observing the girl obtrusively. She waved at the trees, plants, shrubs, and all that she saw as the train moved faster. She said ‘I feel sad for these plants when someone cuts them’. She also said ‘they have lives like us and she has imbibed this scientific fact in her internal system. She then murmured about a fight between two people in her house and before that her mom asked her to pipe down. An eight-year old girl’s merry and insightful thoughts and the man who fooled me - after all, the world we live in is not that bad.

Making crown out of head

2006-09-19T04:54:00.000-07:00

At times, words of the past sound peculiar and fascinating. It is heartening to know that some of these words have not become clichéd, instead they are very much in use. I was speaking to my ex-colleague and we were talking about the good old golden days we spent together. We indulged in nostalgia. But, I grew pesky when I heard her dicing vegetables and grating coconuts and reducing her interaction to a nodding figurehead. Mobile phones are like radios, in that she could speak and attend to her household chores. She painfully uttered ‘it is a bad hair day, today’.

‘What happened?’ I asked my chicken guinea scourged friend.

‘My husband broke his crown this morning’, she said.

Crown, I picturised ‘Alexander the Great’ falling from his horse and breaking his crown. Oh, it means head. So, whatever I was chattering before would not have got into your crown, isn’t it?

She rubbished my stale humor. I still could not stop being attacked by more thoughts pertaining to crown. I read somewhere in an application form that states ‘Affix a passport photograph that measures from chin to the crown’. However, I cannot imagine that a king would have ordered ‘becrown’ instead of ‘behead’ a wrong doer.

My friend’s hubby had his crown injured badly that he had to get the split latticed (sutured). The doctor certainly would have taken an X-ray and, (I don’t intend to anger my friend), he would have pointed out saying ‘Can you see the injury in the skull?’ and not ‘Can you notice the dent in the crown?’

Looks like as if I am crown strong. Not at all. It is just that I am crown over heels in love with the term ‘crown’ per se. I am not against using this word. I had a thing for reflecting on what if ‘head’ were to be displaced by ‘crown’. Try doing that and you may get some wonderful zany thoughts and interesting ideas too. It is time for me to take bath. Should I have crown bath or body bath? Toss a coin and if you get ‘crowns’, have crown bath; otherwise just purify yourself with two mugs of water.

Get your crown browned with henna is what my wife would probably say henceforth. If at all my crown has not turned bald.

Put two and two together...

2006-09-16T11:59:00.000-07:00

My family has grown to four. I wanted to confine to one issue and adopt when time is appropriate. But, now it is a case of over-indulgence and I am blessed with two sons. Two days ago, I happened to tell my friend that my wife and kids sleep in the drawing hall nowadays. He quipped that this always happens after you have had enough, not in as many words.

I don’t have the statistics on hand to tell whether the question of interest in sex can be reduced to age factor or the number of issues a family sees through. I read somewhere that men’s potency begins to wither as they approach their forties. They cease to be well-oiled machines and intercourse becomes a dampener following insipid ‘art for arts sake’ futile pant-sweat-drop dead encounter. Blame it on food, health, obesity, diabetics, blood pressure and whatnot.

But, my grandfather probably saw creating a small community an absolute challenge to establish his powers and supremacy. On the other hand, I learnt from a television program that the reason to go overboard was that in those days there was no guarantee how many would eventually survive, say after five years. Lack of facilities, dearth of doctors to diagnose ailments put the toddlers’ life at a high risk.

Today, there is vast change in the field of medicine. We boast of telemedicine and diagnosis of diseases is done over the Internet. Let alone the credibility factor. So, given the growing population size, are we not supposed to impose restrictions on ourselves? I can understand that we don’t do it wantonly. But, it is still a mistake to exceed the government’s dictum. And, mistakes are as bad as miscarriages.

I too have breached my convictions and try to salvage saying this one extra number will not make a big difference. Unfortunately, that is what everyone feels and thinks. Also, be careful with your granny. She will prevail upon you to have two and offer an explanation that one will grow up lonely with no one to play with or fight with. I yielded and now it is a bumper yield. Two wards, my wife, and me. So, does that make four? If those whose family size is four find my angst not having enough teeth in the argument, try riding through the city.

When I ride, it looks like I have one tiny head and another fat-head (literally) because my elder son slants to the left and I watch the road ahead with my head tilted to its right. The pillion passenger, my wife with the toddler, has to negotiate her clasp over the kid and ensure her safety as well.

I doubt if she suffers from two-wheeler wanderlust with me riding the bike. I have a knack for pot holes and pits, not to avoid them but to plunge into them. So, if my wife still loves this entire escapade, she is damn crazy. So, it boils down to whether (forget those who own a car) you want to stop with one and be happy, or have two and be happy and never mind the attendant trouble.

To be or not to be?

2006-09-15T11:37:00.000-07:00

Right now, fate is meddling with my life. It is easy pointing fingers at fate when life is beset with problems and uncertainty. What is the matter with me? Nothing, it is a question of borrowing risks and trying to build an enriching life. I know well that in the long run it will turn out to be a great asset and I will carry the tag of having visited South Korea as a recipient of Asia Cultural Academy fellow. But, luck would have none of it. How tiresome one can get by letting hopelessness fatigue one’s mind? I am going through it. Tired and knocked up, I feel low and diffident. Is someone out there to infuse spirit, certainty, and confidence into my life and set right my pathologies? I am vesting my trust in so many of you. I don’t want to feel it is implacable. Come on, I ought to be taking a decision, right! However, sympathies and empathies, or worse still, deprecating curses (please be civil) are welcome!!!!

Spooky spin on black, why?

2006-09-15T03:48:00.000-07:00

As soon as I entered the office, I ran into my friend at whom I shot an admirable glance. He was clad in all black and I alluded his appearance to the grosser, though with a slight change, “Men in Black”. I called him a man in black. His face bore no amusement nor did he seethe with anger. Instead, I watched a grin see-sawing on his mouth.

Complimenting him, I told how some perceive black as a harbinger of bad omen. I remember how one of my lecturers expressed his averseness to seeing anything in black. It was about 10 years ago and I was doing my graduate programme. A friend of mine came in a sizzling black and was in a culturally acceptable outfit. But, the lecturer resented his presence in the classroom, threw a surly look, and warned him against wearing black outfits thereafter. I cannot understand the logic behind such people becoming indifferent towards black trousers. In his explanation, he asked my classmate what was ailing him that he had to wear black shirt. He further went on saying black was associated with gloomy, spooky happenings.

My friend in office listened to this patiently and frowned to convey his dissent.

I recounted another incident where I myself was a victim. I was heading the department of journalism and was bringing out a newsletter every month. I used to parade with watermelon pride that I was doing something aside from teaching. The newsletter had a panel on top tinged with more of black shade and a sprinkling of white space. I wafted into the Correspondent’s room with the newsletter and exited his room after a while like a lame duck. I was not physically assaulted. But, he did not appreciate my work. Why? He did not reply then.

Two hours later, I was in the Director’s room and the Correspondent was livid with me for using black colour in the newsletter. He rode roughshod on me and flung the newsletter trading handpicked words to describe the artifact – an obituary advertisement. I felt sick when the frowsty odour emanated from his plaque. He left leaving me to wallow in the whirlpool of that ill smell. All said and done, I couldn’t take the criticism and cried inconsolably.

My friend, quite paranoid about listening to anymore of poignant incidents, at last decided to drive home his point. He said black symbolizes strength, purity, and bravery. Of all his explanations, the last one was amazing. "We despise black so much and our perceptions are coloured with negative ideas. But, why is it we feel down in the dumps the moment we see our hair turn white. The irony is we want to have an identity that shifts to our convenience".

Tiresome, troublesome...but awesome air trip

2006-09-12T10:28:00.000-07:00

It was my first domestic travel by air and I was heading to Mumbai city. I was not thrilled about flying as travelling by aircraft has become more a necessity than a luxury these days. Nonetheless, I have boarded aircrafts three times in life and I am on the wrong side of 30s.

Private airways are dime a dozen and we see them floating and flouncing through the open blue sky. Every 20 minutes you see an aircraft taking off and landing at the airport in Chennai, where I am currently residing. Flying is not that tough a call, though! Are you sure?

One day before my journey, I received a call from my colleague that the private aircraft we were supposed to travel in had rescheduled its departure timing. I haven’t heard that flight timings could go off at a tangent. I was not disheartened, as long as I could fly. The next day, I was at the airport four hours before departure time. What for? It was night and I could not have come there to gawk at flights booming on tarmac. For your kind information, our airport does not have glass structure to see through flights in action. I was at my best enjoying the luggage conveyor belts gyrating with sloppy baggage careening towards the edge of the belt.

I waited and my colleague breezed into the airport and went straight to get his luggage screened. He did not want to put it in the cargo and proceeded to collect his boarding pass. The man at the counter, (where are the girls with stockings pulled up to the knees, in fact, their legs look barbecued in that attire) asked my friend if the luggage contained perfume or scissors. A nod took him to the screening point again and this time around he had no option but to put the luggage in the cargo.

I told him we were too clever not to know what we were allowed to carry in our hand luggage. Just then, my friend’s palm top cooed and there was a message saying the flight would be late by another one hour. That was when it struck me I was living in India and I should be conciliatory enough to accept schedules getting upset. I had a book to flaunt at 11 pm and I never opened it. We discussed our office goings on and I stole time to wring my gonads. Crude way of saying I went to the loo. Is anyone taking offence? At the action or at the presentation!!!

When I walked out of the loo, I found a queue and my friend winked. It was quite a long queue. I assumed there had been an announcement asking us to be ready to board the flight. A woman’s voice blared announcing all those headed to Bangalore city can board the flight. Frustration shook the queue and 100 members long queue had a domino’s effect and passengers pulled out and went back to recline in the seats. The short queue raised questions if an aircraft was willing to be walloped financially for a few passengers going to Bangalore.

At long last, the wait did not go in vain. We boarded a bus that dropped us near the aircraft. I got into the aircraft and realized how crammy it looked. We occupied seats and the seats were damn stiff and looked as though they were made-to-mend-our-back. I felt like leaning against a wall and sitting on a block of wood. After demonstration by crew members, the flight took off and some time into the air, I wanted to doze off. Barely had I started to close my eyes, when an unusual motion cautioned me something was wrong. I looked at my colleague and he was cool conveying ‘let things ride’.

The flight was bumbling along and I was reminded of the bus journey I take from my home town to a city nearby. Indian roads are bad, guffawed two Americans who had visited our office. They praised the city, its majesty and said ‘splendid’. But, the parting shot was terrible. One of them pointed at the road from the seventh floor and grinning with gay abandon said, ‘that is quite intimidating’. But, what about the sky? Perhaps, the pilot was driving into and out of perforated ozone layers! I remained vigilant and did not want to sleep.

The crew members were beautiful to look at unlike battle axes in government-owned airlines. They came drawing a trolley containing itsy-bitsy stuff. Suddenly, from nowhere, a lady was announcing the captain’s name and when the flight was scheduled to reach the destination. She stumbled so much that I trawled to catch a glimpse of her. Eventually, I saw her partially visible to the passengers. I craned my neck to give her a hint that I was little disturbed by the way she announces. Instead she could have performed a snake dance. (So sweet was her voice that anything unintelligible would have made me swoon over her.) Our eyes locked and she hid herself fully behind the panel throwing a cold stare. Oops! She thought I was trying to woo her.

We got vegetarian sandwich and a bottle of water. The crew members-turned-trolley pullers said Rupees 140. I did not know that snacks do not come gratis. We had the stale stuff and burped to be interrupted by an announcement to fasten our seat belts. My tummy resisted but the crew insisted. Fifteen minutes, we had returned to earth from space.

Being with family, some cheery moments

2006-09-01T02:28:00.000-07:00

I was dripping wet after a head bath. I forgot to take my towel to the bathroom and came out leaving a trail of watermark thereby making the floor a dangerous path to tread. Knowing what I was doing, I kept telling everyone at home to be cautious while landing lest they should skid off to bump into a sturdy wall, rattling wardrobe, television set, and the destination is unknown. At times, streaked with dread, they might even perform an unconventional ballet dance with one leg up in the air. In the worst-case scenario, they could tilt so much backwards dropping almost dead banging their head on the floor or damage their back.

I took my towel and dried my hair in a chaotic manner. I stood in front of the mirror and could see the messy, black hay as if they were ready to be launched into space. I slithered my fingers through half-dried and half-wet blanket of hair.

Suddenly, I heard my son asking me a question? I listened to him with breathtaking exasperation. He asked me “When are you going to dye?” I was shocked to hear it from my son. I am still thinking there are many girls whose eyes are toying with the idea of feasting on me, for good though.

I misread his last word and asked him ’what’? He repeated it with much better accent and clarity. I gave him a philosophical answer saying it is all in his hands. And, I gestured upward indicating where the Almighty resides.

He said, why pass the buck on him while you are to be faulted. I wondered how would I know when I would pass away. My son continued, “Pop, it is not in his hands, it is in your hair’. Oh, dyeing my hair. Never thought about it. I looked at him with an acerbic look and tried to see through his arrogant brain. It was a mish-mash of crooked and slimy network with the only saving grace of a touch good-natured humane character. Like father, like son, probably.

Another occasion, I was very hungry and it has always been a coincidence that whenever I have my stomach on a riot, my wife’s preparation will be too good to turn it down. So, on that day, I asked my son to get “Biriyani’ from a nearby hotel. I told him to get ‘Plain Biriyani’ without meat.

He came back and had bought chicken biriyani. My wife in her own dialect reprimanded him for buying what we told him not to. She said, we told you to buy empty biriyani. Before she completed her conversation, my son interrupted. He looked at the container and keeping a poker face uttered ‘You will only get an empty container if you ask for empty biriyani’. My wife couldn’t stifle her laughter.

Attention Please.....

2006-08-28T02:44:00.000-07:00

As an academician, I know how painstaking it is to listen to lectures. I stand tall on the raised platform and walk up and down prating and blabbering. You will be surprised to see all eyes fixated on me. They suggest, “Is it so?” and “Wonderful” lecture looks. I am too often taken in by these boredom-disguised faces. And, I would get all the more peppy and rattle out theories. It took sometime to realize that the students were daydreaming with their eyes wide open. I decided to follow a different strategy since then.

The next day, I started the class by asking students questions to find out how much of knowledge each student had assimilated the previous day. I chose a student who does everything with envious respect. He sleeps in the classroom with his hands folded.

Someone sitting nearby gave him a rough jolt. He rubbed his eyes and slowly the sight of my finger pointing at him made him feel conscious of something. He got up and stepped out of the classroom. He thought I had asked him to leave the classroom. "No, this is not the proper attention-getting strategy", I rued.

I sat with my colleague and explained my predicament to him. An experienced person, he is, I sought a solution from him. He told me to go with him to his class the next hour. It was his second class and it was commonsensical to think how much he would have covered. He probably would have given an introduction about the paper.

After a cup of tea, we walked towards the classroom. He carried with him four chalks-that is his wont. It impressed me very much and when he entered the classroom he showed some unusual vivaciousness unlike his loutish walk he carried till the doorstep of the classroom. I was dazed lock, stock and barrel.

“Good morning students, he began with a sunny look on his face. Oh, he was setting the mood for the class using sensory perception. Great, I admired. The students also busied themselves and kept them ready for jotting down notes. My colleague turned to the board and wrote PAO in all capitals. And, to highlight it, he encircled it.

"By any chance, does any one know what this acronym stands for?", he asked. It was Public Relations class and students scrambled their heads to crack the code. One girl rose to her feet and said ”Public Administrative Office”. My colleague smiled at her. The girl’s name was Preethi. He replied “Preethi Asked for Cooker”. The class burst into laughter and to subside it he raised the question again, “anybody else?”.

No one wanted to give a goofy answer and get a brickbat from him. All of them pretended as if they were trying to get at it. Nothing was coming.

Finally, he said, “here is the answer”. He took the next chalk (as if the once used chalk had lost its chastity) and wrote “Portions Are Over”. From now on, start preparing for the semester exams, which is three months away, he ordered. Really, a heart-stopping strategy! May be incongruous, but certainly riveting.

Technology scores

2006-08-24T03:52:00.000-07:00

Technology is the done thing. I still remember the days when telephone was looked on as a rare product. We did not have a phone at home. Much later, we got a phone after going through the mumbo-jumbo rules of the telecom department. It was a moment of jubilation. I would look at the phone wondering what a great invention it was. It certainly is, even today. One day, my father wanted to call my uncle living in Chennai. I sat with my father and observed in delight how he was going about it. He called the telecom office and asked them to give a trunk call to Chennai number. I waited and did not care to think why we needed someone else to connect us to our uncle. Nor did I have the insight to probe the delimiting freedom technology afforded then.

Now, after a decade, I realize what changes telephony has brought about. All the more, mobile phones have made a person oblivious to the real world. It is not wrong to say, we are living in a virtual deceptive world. I, for one, would spend much of my time talking on the phone. I do not have control over it despite lamenting when the bill stumps me with its threatening figure. I tell my wife I am applying breaks on my call frequency and range. But, I still have not learnt any valuable lesson. Nor has the amount in the bill lessened. Perhaps, we need to follow Gandhian principles. He maintained a log and kept in check his expenses. That said, why not maintain a diary entering the number of calls we make and the amount of time we tie our ears to that slim device. Not ready to trade off laziness (in being meticulous) for mindless engagement in the form of mobile socialization.

On the flip side, recently, I had the opportunity to experience how a university of great standing as opposed to a fledgling private university uses technology. I wanted to find out from the aided university if there was any vacancy for a particular course. The receptionist connected me to the department. It went on ringing and I did not allow my patience to fall apart. After some time, when no one picked up the call, it sauntered back to the receptionist. She told me the telephone wire got cut and hence she could not route the call to the department.

The next day, I wanted some information from Amity University. I visited their site and there popped up a window with a hotspot “Counselling round the clock through chatting”. I buzzed and right away started chatting with a counselor. She was providing me details instantly. So much for gap in adopting new technology, let alone making use of the old technology to the optimum level. And, a UGC aided varsity, funds-rich university plays an inferior role to the private university. What to make of it? Or, where are the funds diverted to? To the safe lockers of bureaucrats or powers that are?

Teeth chattering way to Bangalore

2006-08-09T07:30:00.000-07:00

Put it in cold storage. I have wondered what might have made the person, whomsoever, to coin this idiom. We say language is context-sensitive. If so, what was the context in which this idiom was given birth to? You don’t have to rake up your brains to find the origin. The genesis of the word might owe to an event in the distant past. However, English is a language that lends itself to multitasking and figuratively a word is liable to have too many shades of meaning.

Like when I was traveling by Shatabdi Express from Chennai to Bangalore. I almost froze to stillness like headless, skinless goat meat pegged on hooks. Even if you see a maverick killing one of the passengers on the train, your blood sure wouldn’t be invaded by any sense of tumult. Once inside the train, it was getting colder by the minute and my cells in the body shriveled in chilly weather. Was any film director traveling in the coach?! He would have rubbed his hands and gestured a frame for a song sequence in Switzerland.

My wife envied me when I boarded the train. Little does she know about the inside story. Grass is greener on the other side. Oh, I couldn’t refrain from slipping in a proverb. After reaching Bangalore, my wife asked me about the trip expecting a rave review from me. I told her I was in a grave, or let me say, bravely meditating at the summit of Mount Everest like a bare-chested ascetic. She didn’t understand. I illustrated the scenario using an analogy. I told her to push down the refrigerator. She immediately pinched my head off saying her father paid for it. It was too shrill to accept, though what she said was true. In a pacifying tone, I turned her attention away from her parents. Otherwise, she would dig the past with uncanny precision to my utter dismay.

I asked her to coop up inside the refrigerator for five hours after turning it on its beams end. I advised her to remove all the rotten tomatoes and old stuff (capable of pounding your bowels) along with tiny insects, barring a single chile. I was establishing a commonality as I bit the chile served to me on the train to ward off cold. Just so, even my wife could do it. Isn’t it? Now, I asked her if she could picturize my joyous journey. The journey to Bangalore started with a bang and ended with a whimper. I am not kidding!!

When I learnt swimming....

2006-08-04T11:39:00.000-07:00

Most of us working in metros and making fast bucks cannot afford to forget the village moorings where we grew up. I am one who was brought up in a Rip Van Winkle kind of village. A carpet of lush greenery sways at the foothill of Western Ghats mountain range. The cool air rushes through my thick hair and pierces my body leaving my shirt flapping. The pristine beauty of streams, rivers, narrow roads flanked by trees are a sure fire treasure that gives a certain kick to me.

My father was very strict and the best of my yearnings to go along with others were met with rebuke. He would have none of it. I would wait for him to leave for the nearby town and then capitalize on his absence.

One day, I went with my friends to a far away field. They took bath in a well. I was 17 years old then. I saw my friends jumping from the top. Some were very adept in diving into the well making a huge splash. A few drops would rise and fondle my body. I wanted to be as happy as they were. I knew that wouldn’t be possible without learning how to swim. I expressed my desire to my friends.

With the typical brave-the-world spirit of villagers, my friends braced up for the act. I quaked in fear and asked them if they would take care of me. They giggled and said ‘don’t worry’. They looked around for rope so that it could be tied to my waist and someone would hold the other end. But, no rope was available. Eventually, they got all towels together and made a rope out of it. Even as I decided to backtrack, they were steadfast on my learning at least a bit of swimming. The ‘wet towels rope’, some in tatters, was wound around my waist and a couple of them slowly glided me into water. The water was too cold that I made a suffocating cry. Later, for a few minutes, my head bobbed up and down and my friends tugged at the towel whenever I sank and drank water. Whenever I drank water, I strove to rise to the surface and wanted to keep my head above water. I was coughing as a result, momentarily though.

My friends now slowly urged me to kick my legs in water. To stay afloat, I kicked my legs as if I was kicking the water with disdain. I was in the well for five minutes hoping that my friends were around holding the towel. Since I was facing the other direction, I could not ensure whether or not they were present. After some time, I heard a big thump near me and realized that one of my friends holding the towel had just spliced through the water. Fear gripped me from deep within (the well and the heart). I turned back and was startled to see the towel missing. Before I could drown myself in fear, I felt courageous as I had learnt swimming in no time.

Just then did I realize that all you need is a grain of motivation. In fact, I learnt less through my friend’s support than through my own self-faith. That is not to discount my friends’ presence.

Last day together at Hurix

2006-07-28T04:06:00.000-07:00

Well, change is constant in the changing world and times. Not to put too fine a point over the matter, I am bringing my career to a momentary halt at Hurix. Hurix has been an enterprising place and proved to be a facilitator in more ways than one. I owe a lot to my kindred spirits who waded through thick and thin along with me. Better yet, I made, relatively, lot of friends over here.

What memories do I haul from this place? In a world replete with embittered souls and empathizing hearts, I don’t think I can bury the seamy side of life to have a pretentious plastic smile reining in my face. I am leaving with both good and bad memories. But, let good memories prevail wherever you go and whatever you do. Preaching that, I will lift my zest and continue my journey.

You are all here to excel in the field of e-learning. Good, to know your spirit. It is e-learning Zeitgeist. (Sorry to use a foreign term). At this hour, I wish you all a great career in the coming years.

Always remember, it is difficult to be impartial, tough to face adverse factors arraigned against you, face those human beings bent on sabotaging your life. This is a circumstance that can easily tempt you to sneak into dirty politics. I don’t want to be philosophical. Just be impartial. You will have a great life.

Bye.

Parting, but I will be flirtatious with the ‘Hurix reverie’, I mean you all friends……

shuji22@gmail.com

She pained my heart, tell her not to...

2006-05-26T11:33:00.000-07:00

I have been married for a decade. Don’t try to guess my age in vain. Ten years of married life does not give any indication for you to get at the years I have gobbled down. It might cut both ways. I mean, I am young and very much in my prime. And, possibly, I could be feeling jaded too.

Put aside my self. Oh, but it was the same self that whooped up the day I saw my wife off to her home town. I thought I was going to get a breather from the stodgy lifestyle. But, persons like me forget the ground realities of leading a life in wife’s absentia. The house looks ravaged and has become a breeding ground for cockroaches. The bathroom is inhabited by a bunch of them. I killed one and another springs up like a phoenix the same day evening.

The cable guy (not Jim Carey) cut the cable and the television is gathering cobwebs. I am reduced to listening to music on my mobile phone. To top it all, my maid who had sworn to come every two days to wash and keep the house natty has gone awry. She has driven me crazy and I am out on the street looking out for her. She has put me on a hot trail behind her.

And, who do I interact with at home? Walls, the cot, and books have exhausted me. I even had a wild imagination of reading books in a no-man island before she left. I have not read half as much as I would have read in their presence. To defeat my desire, my work pressure has increased. And, self has shattered. I took it to some height but the scaffolding is not seen. I am dangling in the air. I have been doing quite a lot of soul-searching and it eventually ends up in searching for my family. When are they back home? The noise that erupts when we scream at each other, her un-amalgamated laughter that would cushion depressed hearts, going together, and much more. And, just two more days….she is going to get my life revving with warmth once again.

A ride I rejoiced

2006-02-24T21:17:00.000-08:00

I was nipping down home back from shopping. Something unusual caught my eyes when I took a turn around a pillar. For a moment, I thought it was my usual phantasmagorias of indulging in wild illusions of feeling positive romantic vibes around me. But, something entertaining was happening on the main drag and I could not help trading my eye contact between the road and the red tee shirt-clad girl. She was engaged in a must-see action. I knew she was attracting me. Only the previous day, had I watched the Sixth Sense. So, less wonder I prided myself being able to catch such a luscious moment. It was lewd too.

The girl, a pillion rider, was sitting behind so close to the boy in the driver’s seat (wish I were in his place) that the closeness would make a classical commercial for Fevicol. Her svelte figure stuck to him like a fly on the wall (I never care a hoot for men; I only soufflé over the opposite sex).

Hush, hush! So, what was the girl up to? Behind every successful man, read every ‘sexesful’ man, there is a woman. My inner self wooed me to cast an eagle glance at the vehicle. I noticed it slowing down. Probably, the girl had worked up his hidden, well-contained virility. I tried to look back but my rear mirror was on the right side. I tweaked its position to get, the least of it, a partial vision of how long was the vehicle lagging behind. Worked up my pleasure too?!!

I could see the boy totally drunk in a certain unidentifiable mood and wondered if he ever saw the road or vehicles around. My instinct, a stream of it brimming with envy, expelled any decency I had within me. I slowed down to catch up with them and let my vehicle retreat to capture every teen-prank, the femme fatale (presumably) was lavishing herself in. The well-hoisted tee-shirt bared her bleached back. The sloppy jean yawned at the back and I could not bring myself up to seeing FTV in public.

Another right turn, and I had to toughen myself to stand what the girl did in a broad daylight. As their vehicle took an arc, she seized on the opportunity and made it look as if the turn got her further closer and in a trice she achieved what I could hardly imagine mentally.

She pretended to be conversing with him, but at a closer look I saw her nibbling his ears and running her hands through his hair. She nibbled his ears so passionately. May be, she likes anything tangy and the boy would have scratched his left ear with his greasy hand, thanks to the rickety Kinetic Honda vehicle. Now, she slowly rested her elbows on his shoulders and necked his nape. (MTV is a television show, not a road show, I suppose.) I hazarded a flurry of guesses. Was she trying to snap the golden chain he was wearing? Gold and beautiful girls are dangerous tricksters. Aren’t they?

Or, does she have a thing for sweat? You may never know, what in you, a girl likes. She might even come up with answers like ‘that collar button in your shirt’. After harsh washing, your shirt, for all practical purposes, might have only one left. Don’t get excited by what she asks for. Why her? Don’t boys try to worm their way into the Guinness Book of Records by collecting his fond girl’s string-like hair that would possibly best fit in pianos. It is absolutely hair-raising!!!

The whole episode stopped my eyes from closing even once as I did not want to miss out on anything that was going to occur further. I stopped before the signal with my eyes still lolling over the sultry scenes. I turned to the signal to see if the green light had turned on and then shot my glance back to those two. The vehicle was missing. Who knows which haystack they are messing up right now?

By the way, if any one feels I was the driver revelling in romance unabashedly, you have caught the wrong end of the stick. I am watchful and very observant. After all, have I not seen boys trying to fondle or pinch girls as if I am blindfolded? Nevertheless, it was a ride worth spent.

How to circumvent a mighty paunch?

2006-02-21T00:34:00.000-08:00

If the word ‘diabetics’ has not shaken the daylight out of you yet, you are either skinny or working hard on the treadmill. Those obese like me, I call them the ‘fatso darlings’ should feel a rush of panic. If not, good, you are mentally armed to the teeth. Strong at heart and flabby around the midriff!

After being self-reflexive, I would say I am not obese, but plump like a pumpkin. Yet, I somehow get conned into believing that I am brawny like Bradpitt. Who causes me to feel so? My mirror, the horror. In one angle, it acts like a witch with certain demonic qualities. When I stand in front of it, I feel it egging upon me saying ‘Eat, don’t starve’. But truly speaking, it empathises with me. Know why? It knows I can’t stomach any sickening comment about how I really look like.

I was so naïve and allowed myself to be pampered by this innocuous mirror. Thanks to it and my indulgence, my moderate girth started booming like sensex index. It completely blew out of proportions. Some call it an outgrowth of prosperity. Who says not? But, my trousers, these days, rebel to adorn my waist.

What did I do the trousers? I ought to be asking what I did to my waist. Nevertheless, I succeed in burying the fat and my two hands after a tug of war bring the two ends of the trousers together. Finally, I would latch them on. After that, I impose a curfew because I don’t want anyone to see my waist.

It is classified information and, please keep your own counsel. My waist is flanked by thin foam of fat on either side with a knot on the skin. I would not dare sneeze for fear of letting the trousers off the hook.

The funniest part is the plight my mobile phone is in. Cocooned in the pouch, it does not feel it is in the safe pair of hands. The pouch comes into contact with my fractious paunch (its arch rival now) and the keys on my mobile go chiming a clarion call – SOS, probably. Then I stretch back to sever the two.

I wish there was Nile river in the city and I could swim an hour a day. So what? I still wanted to go for swimming and made calls to all health clubs after looking up in the directory. How much do you charge to swim, I asked everyone? They charged me quite something that will make sure I sink in debts. Come on, it is in the neighbourhood of Rs.1500. I would rather rear my ‘tyre’ uninhibited. Why would I want to slight my finance? Even if I decide to go for jogging to steamroll the junk, I am readily reminded of Nehru’s fond verse with minor modification:

Miles to go before I beat my flab
All because I never kept tabs
On the bulging and flaring slab
That's many a disease’s easy grab

Smitten by the Queen bee/King bee?

2006-02-13T19:54:00.000-08:00

I sorely miss my teaching career for a multitude of reasons. Of all things, what I merrily loved doing was spotting the sly lovers aching for intimacy in private moments. I never used to patrol. Nor, did I mop about with my eyes peeled out. Never mistake me, I don’t indulge in vicarious pleasures. But, my hunch had hit the nail squarely on so many heads. I am quite dab-handed in identifying who has hooked whom.

I have seen many a boy waiting for their heartthrobs. The girl too, with the Victorian panache, would long for his Casanova’s presence, but allow her heart to protest too much. Things come to a head in this month.

Come February, many hidden secrets would start emerging. There would unfold a panorama of love treaties, truces and brokering. Some wouldn’t care to adorn open spaces, while others pamper till such time they feel tired. (Hypothetical statement!!) There is yet another group, wherein inhibitions overshadow intimacy resulting in both looking at each other sporadically. Vacuum transpires between them for hours together. There is a daring group that oversteps to find themselves in each other’s clutches.

February is just the harbinger of Cupid announcing his journey to grab up too many hearts with his dose of love potion. Today is February 14, 2006. Another day of fiery romance and you could hear Cupid’s arrows whistling past us and uniting honest hearts. But, is Cupid darting as many arrows as he used to? I guess not. Why?

Striking love chord has become passé. The word ‘love’ has become ephemeral. I have seen for myself how such a delicate feeling has become a blessing in disguise. I used to admire when that immanent feeling opposes danger of any girth and monstrosity. Caste pales before it; either the couple hold their nerves or go down opposing.

The Cupid is no more excited and he feels disgusted by what dimension ‘romance’ has taken. In the last two years, magazines summarised today’s Indian adults. ‘Fidelity’ is a feeble case for argument and pre-martial and extra-martial affairs are too common, except that we Indians probably want to engage in relationships stealthily. Otherwise, Indians are as good as Japanese, who might frown upon marriage without fear or favour. I am not generalising. There are too many good souls like me.

We are too quick to pick up the culprit pointing fingers at cultural invasion. I don’t deny it does not happen. But, it happens at the expense of our consciousness, our naked willingness and greed to bite more than we can chew. One school of thought might say in today’s world, materialistic pleasures are immense to avoid. On the other hand, it is interesting to note there are many who have mutilated the insidious desires by establishing a steely bond between husbands and wives, boys and girls.

All said and done, at the age of (not interested in disclosing it), a strong scent of romantic mood sweeps me off my feet. I have many roses and they are by and large heart shaped. I am a willing donor. Any takers please?

Hi, again, I would like to reiterate I have put up a flower stall in front of our premises. Just in case our cute Cupid plays truant, here is someone who is ready to please your wishes. Present your loved ones a flower; a love letter written with chicken’s blood (presumably yours); treat him/her to a mind-numbing spell of melodrama (giving ‘halwa’, sugarcoating your sentiments and deceiving later).

Please don’t tell my wife about my exploits. Kidding! Don’t replace the letter ‘d’ with ‘s’. Offenders excuse. Others make merry. Happy Valentine’s Day! (Girls and women, don’t try to blow dry the presented flowers to keep them fresh. I can understand your feelings. To both men and women, see to it that your head rules and not the heart.)

Note: During my teaching career, I was once appalled to see a set of students (boys) wearing black tee-shirts with a punch line ‘Love, my left foot’. Who are those queen bees that drove the boys to such a frenetic outcry?

Rose is a rose is a rose. Is romance a romance a romance? Frankly speaking, it could be a farce too. Sorry for being judgemental. And, don’t ever think you cannot express your mighty love to your kids, wives, husbands, friends and others too. It is a ‘gal’a event.

Indian team on a waterbed?

2006-02-08T07:08:00.000-08:00

Pakistan has introduced a new crop of bowlers to the devastation of the Indian team. In the first test, though, the Indian team proved its batting might despite Pakistan putting up a formidable total. Shewag and Dravid got into the pitch like gladiators and resisted Pakistani bowlers any breakthrough for two days. The channels in India made the best opportunity to heap praises on the Indian total. Talk shows drummed up the Indian performance as they saw a new record in sight. The next day, the partnership broke as if someone performed voodoo on the pair. The second test was a replication of the first test and produced no results.

Going by the performance of the first two tests, I expected a poised fight. It did happen once the match began. Pathan struck the top order taking his first hatrick. Later, when the Indian team arrived, it appeared as if a big score was on the cards. Proving that Pakistan bowlers are no lean patch, they bowled their heart and soul sending back four to the Pavilion the same day. Indian players wandered about the pitch unsteadily to gain a strong foothold. They wished to stay put on the crease, but the scathing bowling attack made the Indian players feel slouching on a waterbed. Soon, the host team made a mince meat of Indians, who are easily prone to psychological break up.

And, in all these three tests, the man who went euphoric with his bare chest upon winning the England team years ago and the former captain of Indian team was included out of mercy than merit. He looked anguished and still made significant contribution compared to others like the famed Tendulkar. Rahul Dravid, by now, must have realized how Ganguly would have held his breath from the first over till some result was achieved during his captaincy. Now, Ganguly has been shown the door thanks to many people ganging up against him. Reason? Indian cricket board has never been transparent like the test match outfit that players wear.

To read or to run away

2006-02-08T05:30:00.000-08:00

I would have brushed aside snide remarks about my writing from anyone, because I consider readers have the carte blanche to take my style apart or crave for reading my pieces all the more. And, it is damn archaic to talk up auteur theory that had audience eat out of the director’s hands. Gone were the days when the barely informed audience had just a thrifty option and was a glutton for anything weird to wonderful.

Now, what with Internet helping many indulge and whoop up within a space of 15 to 20 inches, I started a blog as I wished to hone my writing skills. Some of my articles would have commanded readers’ attention and some would have seen them puckering with distasteful remarks.

But, what bludgeoned me today was my constructive critic expressing how my style had turned sour and in her words it had stooped low in the pecking order. She prevaricated and looked lost for words. I could not leave it at that, because my critic might be right in some sense or other. My effervescence thawed and my confidence hit the rock-bottom. I prevailed upon her to make a clean breast of what she felt about my piece.

She did not want to leverage on the weakness that had just piggybacked on me. I still persisted and I knew my voice was getting clogged with unknown panic. But, my camouflaged pride helped me hold my own. She explained superficially and could only say ‘you have sacrificed your unique style for the labor of your current job; it is deprived of delicacies; it has fallen into the hands of ‘drivel’.

The mental wreck she inflicted became cancerous soon and my heart started having a long-drawn throbbing skipping alternate palpitations. I have never cared to analyse my writing structurally as much as my critic does. She must be pear-eyed and probably knows how to tell apart cheese from the chalk. However, do I need to pander to her intellectual tastes? It is a tough ask. As I raise this question, I shudder if my critic is all set to hound for my blood once again. Only if she finds this piece a breadcrumb sliced away as waste; or if she feels like advertising ‘B+ wanted’ for a frail story. Last question to my critic: Is your ageing causing you to maul my pieces mercilessly?

Where in Dubai is MS Office?

2006-02-07T01:11:00.000-08:00

My friend from my village was gasping for money. He has been married for three years and has been no less productive. His hands are always full with his two kids.

When he was 10, he mastered the art of vaulting over a parked bicycle. He took to this sport without knowing it was high jump and from there he could further elevate to new heights of fame and glory. However, his sport did not continue longer.

One evening, he was jubilant as usual and began his run-up towards the bicycle. He missed a step and mixed up his strides leading to rupturing of the rhythm in his jump. He failed to land at the spot from where he would hoist his body with ease and his legs flipped in the air while making the cross-over.

The lift was not the best and his left leg took a bizarre turn for worse. It hit the cycle before he fell awkwardly with the bicycle falling over him. Since then, he has been slightly handicapped. The flashback ends here.

Later, he graduated in History, completed his Bachelor in Education, and Diploma Course in Computer Applications, to boot. But, he never wanted to take chances and hence remained within the pristine environs of the village. This caused him to distance himself from the goings-on in metros and other cities. I think, he was, stranded in hopelessness than being constrained by compelling circumstances to stay in the village with his family.

Later, after marriage, he realized he had to work to earn his livelihood. He joined as a primary school teacher but earned only a pittance. Two years later, he found the going tough and was enthused by the idea of going to Dubai. When everything else fails, it is a done thing for villagers to think of flying or ‘fleeing’ to the GCC countries.

I don’t understand what makes some of us think Dubai is a land of job opportunities for anyone with any qualification. The misplaced thought of making a fast buck is still lingering in most of the minds despite people returning from there narrating the change in reality.

My friend was also a victim of mass hysteria and flew to Dubai with bagful of clothes and confidence. He landed quite airily and started looking out for jobs. He ticked too many jobs on the papers, phoned up the HR and came empty-handed. He looked tired and hit the sack hoping to see some luck favouring him the next day.

The next day, he wanted to seek some suggestions from his friends too. One of them wanted to know where my friend would best fit. So, he asked him if the former knew MS Office. My friend became too happy to hear this and thought the other guy knew someone in the company.

He paused and asked the other person where the office was located. Phew! What? The other friend withdrew himself from the place and pretended as if he was making a call over the mobile phone. Bill Gates certainly would stop coming to India if he ever learns that someone who has completed Diploma course in Computer Applications knows not what MS Office is.

Realizing it was no mean task to get a job in Dubai, my friend approached my brother. My brother put him on to a Manager in a company. Before he left, my brother explained to my friend to try all means to touch the heart of the interviewer. What he meant by this was explaining his plight and later his strengths. Off he went, and he sat in front of the Manager quite majestically.

The Manager, out of curiosity and purpose, began to explore his profile. When the first question was posed, the Manager jerked in shock. He asked a simple question “What were you doing before?” and my friend answered nonverbally. He lifted his head to see the Manager and cried his lungs out. He was trying to be poignant so that the job would land on his lap. However, the truth turned out to be his incompetence in responding to the question in English.

The Manager tried to placate him and by way of doing this he made my friend all the more uncomfortable crying loudly. The Manager became too scared of the sobbing enthusiast, and tried to change the topic.

He asked the next question. By this time, the Manager too had become nervous and looked like an interviewee asking questions in measured tones. His voice quaked and his eyes had a translucent film of tears. “What is your qualification?” This time around, my friend did not wait to deliberate and wail. He right away made a shrill cry and sobbed inconsolably. The fact was questions in English and responding to them in the same language inevitably exposed how rudderless he felt. My friend could not help flavouring his frustration with soap opera sentiments.

Two questions flagged the Manager’s confidence and he negotiated with the interviewer to keep both their esteem intact. Soon after my friend left, the Manager called up my brother and told him he watched a one-hour serial and had exhausted all the tissue papers. He explained to my brother what transpired between him and the person who appeared for the interview – tears. I had known no person like him, he said. Upon my brother’s insistence and request, the Manager referred my friend to another company.

My friend was clearly briefed on how to behave, what to utter, lies though (experienced Inventory Manager), and especially not to lose his composure at any moment. ‘Don’t cry, be spry’ was hammered out into his hollow head. He went to the company and managed to recite what he rehearsed. One of the questions was related to computer literacy. “Do you know programming?” 'Of course, yes, I have organized elocution programmes, sports programmes and the like', said my friend. The interviewer halted for a moment.

He brooded ‘How come a Store Manager organises programmes of this nature when I am talking about computer programs’. Later, he asked him where he conducted all these programmes? My friend was too happy to reply ‘at school where I was working’ – as if he was being interviewed for the post of teacher. The interviewer gazed at him and my friend understood the goof-up he had made. He nauseated that he was not a Store Manager but was working as a primary school teacher back in India.

In an unguarded moment, the interviewer held my friend’s hands and my friend wrongly understood that his talent had at last been recognized. But, the interviewer requested “Please, you have plenty of options in Dubai. The market is huge” and showed him the door.

With no jobs forthcoming, he is back in India and he took out the frustration on his wife. The result is his wife’s stomach is bloated with yet another baby. He made good the loss he suffered in Dubai. But the underlying truth in this incident is that it shows where and in what scheme of things the rural India is situated. It is not a story to pity my friend. Nor is it a story to laugh at his incompetency or failure to keep him up to date. Think more about it and answers will show up……

Son…..too hot to handle, a hallucination

2006-02-05T05:37:00.000-08:00

I confess I capitulate to my son’s chatty wit that catches me unawares without a nugget of premonition. He pips me verbally with a certain knack of ridicule. He fights off my indignation with smart one-liners. A hard liner like me is no match to his valour of delivering spontaneous salvo. It is no hot air, poppycock, gibberish or boring talk. It is rather a reflexive defence from him that leaves me pondering over how scrumptious his response has been.

Naturally, he is scared of me, but only as long as he is indoors. The moment I take him out, he starts scheming to leave me stumped lock, stock and barrel. Though he is playful, I can’t help myself acknowledging his knee-jerk answers to my presumably wise questions.

He has a thing for Scorpio vehicle and is obsessed with it. I waived off his question when he asked me how long it would take for me to buy that vehicle. I don’t have room for such objects even in my dream balloons, but he never seems to dodge the thought of travelling in it. TV commercials are far too effective unmindful of putting parents like us in a stew!

I, for one, decided to uproot his baseless desire by explaining to him what scorpion means. I don’t know if I find scaring my kid the safe bet to keep him in his place. But, I bit my tongue and wondered if I should be giving him ideas. There is more than an odd chance of him getting primed if I do so and he might even say “Papa, so, does the vehicle sting like you?”

Kids are very mercurial and my son, in particular, has made me feel landslides even when everything might seemingly look perfect. He is capable of framing slanderous stories and to be on guard I always throw a furtive glance at him. ‘Here comes a scorpion’, and he will sign off with that stinging comment. This might, probably, happen in the most crowded public space. I will produce an awful smug and my face will show angles from obtuse to all. In the background, my son would wander with abandon cheering to himself “Poetic justice to perpetually irritating dad”.

Days passed by. His quarterly results were out and he gave me a rude shock. He had been sinfully careless. I gave him a piece of my mind. Someone said, if only my son inherits my intelligence, a shred of it at least, he would have proved to be a performer par excellence. He scuppered my enquiry into his performance with matured nonchalance. I thought he would whine, whimper. Forget it, say “Wait and watch, next time I will do better than this, pop”.

Thank God, he didn’t blurt that out. Who in the hell knows what he means by ‘better’? Some weird thought would have invaded him ‘Let me give you a much more bitter experience than this’.

The next day, I interposed him when he was about to step out of home. I knew the auto rickshaw was waiting. He had a quizzical look and grazed the floor. On a very strong note to overpower him with a pragmatic statement, I told him he wouldn’t be able to buy a Scorpio vehicle if he underperformed in his exams. He gave me a clinical look and kept on walking.

I turned back with a triumphant smile. Just so, I heard someone muttering. It was none other than my son. I didn’t realize he would quip in a trice. I cocked my ears and heard him saying “The auto driver has studied only up till third grade. Yet, he has managed to buy an auto rickshaw”. And, that was more like a fill in the blanks. I, after much thought, completed it. Or rather, understood what my son intended to convey. Is not your son more inventive? Yes, he is. I dread him these days. What if he pulls a fast one when you are in your friend’s place? At times, I become a robot in his hands. After all, kids are fond of playing games and father is ‘one’ character!

Suddenly, I felt a pinch and shouted ‘ah’. There, my son stood smiling at me. What a strange hallucination, I laughed and hugged my smart hero.

Hell is full, so I am back

2006-02-02T23:34:00.000-08:00

Hell makes me feel jittery. If at all, I get to think about it. By the way, I am not talking just about myself. I would include every heathen (don’t misread it as heaven; your longing is palpable but too far-fetched) under the sun.

So, hell or high water, don’t stop being your ‘self’. Why care a farthing if what you do pleases someone or puts him/her off. Let us all enrol ourselves for the ‘hell’. I assure placement opportunities are aplenty over there. Even if you don’t volunteer, you would eventually be shoved into that huge ‘forest under fire forever’ landscape.

Anyway, we are not bothered much about what we do. Nor do we keep a checklist to make sure what we do keep the God in good humour and secure a ‘berth’ in Hell. Is someone thinking of buttering up the Almighty? Don’t do it. According to Hindu mythology, Lord Krishna had oodles of butter even when he was young.

Imagine, taking a checklist to someone in the deathbed and evaluating where he is likely to head to – Hell or Heaven. Rather, poison him and you would have done one hell of a job by helping the person’s lungs quit its function with one last heave of a breath. Amazing! Heart stopping performance!

Don’t think I am a spokesperson of Satan. Nor have I mastered wizardry. Far from that. But, an anecdote recently evoked peals of laughter. The incident had sufficient evidence to tell that “Hell” too has become a getaway for most of us. Now, I understand the reason why the UK based Thomas Cook was sold off.

Moreover, we are on board a sophisticated rocket and going to the Moon and Mercury to spend our vacation. So, why not hell? Just that, the vacation might turn into a vocation. Forget it!

That day, I was on my way riding to the office. I pay scant attention to what is around me and have sent other bikes careening as well as found myself riding, establishing a road-to-body contact. Skilled cameramen alone could bring out such daring postures. Fortunately (unfortunately), I grew wide-eyed to decode something on the number plate of a bike trekking ahead of me. Remember, roads in Chennai, India on the whole, are animate objects. They heave (bumpers), swell (uneven surface), yawn (pits that catch you off base), produce a sell-out performance (gather crowd when you lie hobnobbing with the road forgetting how it came by). All of these occur thanks to your not being versed in road dynamics (how about starting a new discipline?)

So, it was quite a while before I could rest my eyes on each letter of the name plate and it read “Hell was full, so I am back”. Oops! What blockbuster movie is showing there? Nothing struck my mind. But, I remember seeing a teaser billboard, the Q is dead. Pronto, I hit upon an idea. Why didn’t these guys book tickets on the Internet? Probably, they are not techno geeks. I empathised with them.

I again turned the message on my mind and asked myself if they were really upset about not being able to make it to ‘Hell’. Poor folks! They wished something and the God would have none of it. My heart went out to them. ‘I need to do something so that they are where they wanted to be in’. This thought gripped me. So, did I think ‘Why not hit that bike and bump them off? I took fancy to that idea and moments before perpetrating it, my conscience alerted me. ‘What if it costs your life too? I backtracked and looked up only to see that bike missing. Have they gone to Hell?

So, the poster message is ‘Hell is full’. Thank god, the message was not “Hit me and let us have a last ride together”.

Cat licks the cream......

2005-07-16T03:09:00.000-07:00

He was alone at home and it numbed life to the stiff. FTV girls came out clad to the hilt! A theory book on communication sounded more of a fuzzy logic. Eyes refused to close as if he had slept for days. He found killing time a hard task. Sweetheart, he bleated but she was not there. He felt the vacuum his wife had left behind.

She had gone to her hometown to be with her parents. The prospect of her leaving him alone enraged him. However, he contained it after reasoning it out. He failed in his attempt to escape the bore. Suddenly, something struck his mind. He wondered “How about getting caught in the vortex of reverie”? He could not forsake the flash back that tried to take shape in vivid images.

He let the journey begin. He whooshed backwards to that age when pimples looked like blots on beauty. He relished the dream and was lost in thought completely. Just then, someone knocked at the door and he heard nary of it. Only when the knocking turned into ramming, he rose with a jolt. Many a dream has come to grief this way. He never liked a bit about someone intruding him now.

He opened the door and the downstairs girl beamed at him with a come-hither look. What followed was a sudden deflation of his dreams and his sunny look gave way to a smug-cum-grovelling smile on his face. His insight drifted along.

Her slender body slipped past the door and, calling me brother, she started tidying up the house. He grinned sheepishly for a moment. How come, it never occurred to him that the house was in disarray and needed some spring-cleaning? Later, she moved into the next room and flicked the bedspread that made a fat noise. Is she making the bed?

His reverie hangover cued him to think lecherously. He bit his tongue. She went to the kitchen and lingered about making hot water. Is she jobless? He sat on the bed with his eyes fixed on the floor. He wanted to avoid her harmless gaze. He was worried what an eyeball-to-eyeball tryst will get them into?

But, fortune favored the craven. The tiled floor reflected her white churidhar. She was walking towards him and he held his nerve. His breath quavered. She asked him something and made him look at her. The distance died along with diffidence. She touched his tummy and said it was luxuriant. Her slender body did not merit such an appraisal or appreciation. He said she was firm with no flab. He did not want to touch her waist board stomach though temptation was bursting at the seams.

She looked at him piercingly and created a want in him. She stooped and dabbed a kiss. Is this what you have been longing for? Then, in no time, she sidled away from the room. He got tossed into a reverie, a different one now. And, he could kill the time quite successfully munching the brief, bizarre, but titillating encounter he had.

Believe it or not

2005-07-15T00:38:00.000-07:00

My colleague looked at my palm and ran her finger over the fluffy part below the thumb. She was silent for a while and then dropped a bombshell. “You will have relationship problems”. My wife will despair of me if she ever comes to know I believe in palmistry. But, that piece of information left me hopelessly shattered and I kept poring over it. I traipsed back to my colleague to find out the rationale behind her evaluation.

I asked her “Does my palm contain any tell-tale signs of the bad omen you indicate”? She threw a studied glance at the palm once again and brought my attention to some lines crossing haphazardly. I nodded in agreement and it was the most disarming compliment I received from her. I wanted to shelve my sentiments and told her “Hey, it’s all hogwash. Try to be practical”. She became serious and added the last straw on the camel. “You will kill someone before you breathe your last”.

For once, I wished she were playing jokes on me. But, it is always very embarrassing to know that your wish will remain unfulfilled. I was off-color when she vehemently denied my speculations. I tried to laugh it off but it turned out to be a demented and agony-filled fits of laughter. My colleague noticed it and smiled saying there are other things to waste your breath worrying about.

I was 32 years old and it was my first encounter with palmistry and the like. For the first time in life, my dismissive attitude towards astrology (I was not familiar with the names associated with the field) received a jolt. I warded off the grief that enveloped me and swore that day not to listen to such caper thereafter.

Five months had passed by and I found myself in a highly disturbed state. I was rubbing palms seriously deliberating how to pull my act together after a burst of outrage. It was a trivial issue and I shouted at my superior for trying to lay the blame at my door for a folly he committed. Suddenly, on hindsight, I looked at the lines on my palm and turned over in my mind the words my colleague had uttered once.

It was only a single instance where I lost my cool but I felt it convenient to seek a reason in fate for my erratic conduct. I couldn’t believe a soft-spoken man would let the steam off like a brakeless car running amok down a steep road. My attitude slowly changed and astrology, I grew fond of in no time. I started approaching astrologers of arguable quality as well as eminent ones and the information search I took up for the same must have been a shade more than an archaeologist’s quest.

I listened to rich and varied information, each of them being unique in its own way. I wondered if I was suffering from multiple-disorder to have so many different accounts of fate some willing me to go north, some to go south, some to see me wealthy and some to see me impecunious.

At last, it became information overload and I chose the most favourable one that said I would be in a respectable position after 35. But, they all shared a common ground giving me a strand of information. All of them presented it with a sullen voice. Undaunted, I took it with a pinch of salt. Want to know what piece of information it could be? Extramarital relationship would probably make you give me a sly and scandalous look. Sorry to betray you. It is that I will keep hopping from one job to another. A hard-nosed person, probably and so hard to please as well!

The last time I allowed my palm to be read was two years back by a professor. Her eyes widened when she saw my palm and said “you are going to go places and don’t show your hand to everyone, it is so precious”. She delighted me with her remarks. Being a human being, who remains complacent? So, it is high time for my next encounter and it will happen within two weeks. What insights will he provide into my life? I am curiously waiting with bated breath. What about scientific temper in life? Come again, what is that…?

Past and Present - now and then

2005-07-07T06:03:00.000-07:00

A dapper, he is, he would not want to think otherwise and somewhere deep in his heart, he experienced an urge to ‘get groovy’. It is an acquired liking for modernity that had grown on with time. Before he took to the city’s eye-candy life, he was diffident and thought of going back to his ancestral place immediately. The fear of pace and pomp unsettled him. He was shocked by the indifference of the city-dwellers. But, his fear lasted, as long as waves that would lash the seashore and retreat.

He was not aware how he wriggled himself out of the traditional mould he was supposedly steeped in for years. As though another personality had taken him over, he put an end to his aversion to city life and let inhibitions make a quiet exit. The new life slowly started interesting him. It was a refreshing feeling for him to mingle with a new crowd. He started as a spectator and then made to the fringes and soon found himself in the midst of all. Far removed from his village moorings and memories. Within a few months, his old memories evaporated. He loved the city for what it gave and what he got – pizza, discos, formidably costly eateries, breeze from beaches and whatnot. It was a kind of life that paused only when the signal glowed red. Still, he had not gone into overdrive, due to the last strain of control in him.

Morning croaked to life without a cock’s shrilly voice. He would have woken up and well got on with the day, had it been his village. But, city life meant he had the luxury of crashing into the day whenever he wanted and crashing, out of exhaustion, at the end of day. It afforded luxury but no leisure.

He rose with a start and looked at the clock in panic. He knew how long his grooming would stretch. He rushed through his routine and bathing over, he had a long stint in front of the mirror. The repetitive chore began. Yes, he tried to bend the hair to his will. The mirror gave away a phony pat on his thinking that he was not looking any bad. The irony was he never appeared to realize the decaying density of hair thanks to metro water and bore well water.

After making several portraits of himself, he, finally, made a weird hair-do out of his curly (clumsy) hair. That done, he searched frantically for his bag and sunglasses. Stepping out of the house, he came back to apply a dab of Vaseline to his scaly lips.

All said and done, the chore of getting ready to go to work became much more grinding than what he actually did at the work place. In short, everyday began with confusion. He was finicky about choosing his day’s wear, much less his inclination to wear polished glistening shoes. The outcome of preening was he would reach his office late. And, on his way to the office, he flaunted miserable skills of riding his bike subjecting it to skidding and screeching to avoid treacherous pits. Regularly, he was seen riding on top of mounds and manholes letting the two-wheeler rise and rattle dangerously.

His thoughts about village remained suspended and illusion of leading a hurried (harried) life blossomed without limits. He conveniently forgot what his past was. But, inwardly, those sweet memories stayed in his mind’s attic. They could never become has-beens. They are worth revisiting. Raised in a village, he remembered the rustic odor his body used to pick up from muddy lanes. He used to stick his head under broken taps that squirted water through myriad holes it had.

He had seen the milkman extracting milk pulling the udder of the only black cow at home and carrying the cute calf that was only 10 days old. The moment the calf was left on the ground, it would start bumbling about in mirth and one would only fear it would run away. Initially, he thought the calf to be as tough as her mom. But, when the milkman told him the calf would not harm the least, he touched the calf and felt its tender back that immediately shrank as if the touch caused goose pimples.

The soft skin made him caress it again and again. He stoked it affectionately. His act attracted the attention of people at home. At once, he grew proud of being in the limelight and went overboard cuddling the calf. He looked at his mom and smiled only to realize the calf had spun his legs ten times and it appeared as if the animal was tethered to his legs. Several such precious incidents are stored in his mental diary. But, will he ever admire those gracious days again? What brings up this question? It is, just so, that city life has added some snob weight and he does not shy away from throwing it around. Now, it is nostalgia’s end of the bargain to know if he would long for the past.

Ride for a fall

2005-05-29T21:59:00.000-07:00

My wife usually longs for a ride at an intoxicating pace. I certainly don’t mean the ride under influence. That might prove to be the end of the road both literally and figuratively.

She loves a macho ride with daredevil acts. (I call it rash driving. Unfortunately, she relishes it. What difference does it make whether you are drunk or in a funk when you are pushed to the wall?) God knows, she shrieks when I bolt down and is taken in by the ‘feel-good’ stuff that accompanies my ‘gallant’ act. (I have to live up to her expectations. I don’t want my pride to become her butt of ridicule.)

On that day, as I flailed through the unsafe roads of the city, she thought I was a gutsy hero. Inching a bit closer to me on the bike, she urged me to do what I dreaded the most. Zip and zoom. I didn’t want to disappoint her. I treated the road with disdain, and zipped off kicking up a cloud of smoke and dust. My dependable two-wheeler did not give up on me. It whizzed, and things on either side looked hazy in that fast-paced movement.

The wind slapped my unguarded face and pricked my eyes filling them with tears. My wife liked the way I executed deft maneuvers (on the deserted roads) and was enormously thrilled. She was grabbing my paunch. Had she placed her hands around my chest, she would have known how hard my heart was palpitating!! I got carried away by her wild shrieks of excitement. Fortunately, my mud-plastered two-wheeler has never let me down, at least whenever my wife is on board and this time too I wished it would behave.

As I reached the locus of the city, she coaxed me to flaunt my talent for riding (roughshod). I was encouraged by her urgings and stepped on the gas indiscriminately. A few yards down the road, I heard the sharp and persistent whistling of the’ law keeper’. I stopped the vehicle respecting the sensibilities of the traffic policeman, in no mood now to keep my wife in good humor. I turned back and saw a traffic team approaching me scrunching words furiously between their square flabby jaws. I could sense their ire from the uneven dancing of the whiskers of their moustache making contact with their flaring nostrils.

“Why did you violate the traffic rules?” one of them asked. “Did I?” I wondered. “I didn’t want to displease my wife”, I replied promptly passing the buck onto my wife. I turned to my wife willing her to understand it was unintentional and noticed her fuming in silence. Where was all her enthusiasm to experience a gallant ride? I looked at her in askance. Her anger manifested in the sardonic look she directed at me. I avoided the cold gaze and casually fondled the bike that turned my hands grimy.

Cops still lingered. They tried to frighten me by pretending to levy a fine amount. I knew I held the aces. When you are going with your wife, the police try to be compassionate. So, I demonstrated courage and tried to bluff my way through saying I did not notice the signal. While I was still trying to make some corny excuses, a challan was tucked into my hands and I was told to pay the fine in the court.

I looked at my wife. She threw a glance at me as if to say, she always wanted me to be careful and I was the one who overturned her wish. I told her to hop on and my two-wheeler crawled like a bullock cart. She came back to normalcy and gave me a significant nudge telling me not to let her down. None of it was her doing and she never would want me to violate rules. All that she wanted was a cool and zippy drive. After sometime, we were wrapped up in the thrills once again and the needle on the speedometer made a vast and rapid arc.

Getting started

2005-05-07T04:30:00.000-07:00

How much of a techno geek are you? I assumed I knew a lot and was quite snooty handling the computer. But, I almost got a spank on my derriere. The PC sniggered at me when I tried to open a blog of my own. So much for weblogs! This would seem obvious for the uninitiated. I spent a whole day trying to come to grips with the nuances. Even when this text was typed out, I was not sure if it would click or betray me. All the same, I was on a wild goose chase grappling things and eventually got a blog made. I think so. If you are lucky, the blog will be there. Otherwise, I am sorry if you encounter an empty landscape with no content. But, I will not dig in my heels. Bye.