18’ Till I Die

It was one of most disappointing thing to happen, when I knew that the Bryan Adams’ show scheduled for yesterday (15^th Feb, 2011) was rescheduled citing security reasons and clearances… Nobody knows when it has been rescheduled to, or whether it will happen in Delhi at all.. While at the same time it is quite disappointing for all Bryan Adams fans, somehow, it was an opportunity for me to remember the last time when he was here.  It was 2004, and the show was scheduled for 7^th of Feb, eve of my Birthday.  Here is my look back on that day.  

One of the greatest days of my life.  I am gonna cherish this moment for ever.  It was pure fun.  On the eve of my birthday, I really took myself up the clouds, to wild celebration, and that too, within the pure ambit of morality. 

It’s today, Bryan is here…singing live and here in delhi. 

…and I am there too…On midnight on the 7^th feb…well, walking past on to the 8^th day, which incidentally was my birthday.  And giving me company my friend Pradeep and his danseuse wife Priyanka!

My Birthday, with none other than Bryan Adams singing for me in the warm-up area of the JNL Stadia (there was a faux pas with the organizers with the event first being scheduled for Mittal Gardens in MG Road, and later on being shifted to Jawahar Lal Nehru Stadium). Well, I could attend this concert only because it was in JLN Stadium. It probably wouldn’t have been possible for me to go to Mittal Gardens anyways with Pradeep and her wife joining me from Mumbai!   

I was surprised seeing Priyanka in Jeans.  I was all the more surprised seeing a Professional Kuchipudi Dancer swaying and shouting to pure Rock! It surprised me a lot!

Bryan wore a black tee and a worn out jeans.  I too was wearing a black casual shirt and a grey chino.  There was no supply of drinking water inside the stadia.  V cud see people begging for that one last drop from their neighbors.  Even our stock ran out as v had to share our bottles with our neighbors. 

The sound system was not much of a say.  I wud say it was loud and noisy. It was music, only coz Bryan was singing and along with him was a hippy, peppy young vibrant, exuberant Delhi crowd. 

He had a song for every moment.  He played cupid.  He said sorry with please forive me…he flirted with the only thing that look good on me is you…and hurt and made delhi cry with ‘cuts like a knife’.  Bryan made us feel young with the ‘summer of 69’ v ver transformed to our teen-years with ’18 till I die’. He announced his presence with his  latest ‘here I am’.  But I thought he missed ‘run to u’ or rather he must’ve sung, it may be like, I missed hearing that song, or Bryan missed singing that one. I am confused!

As the music welted across the chilly delhi breeze, two things seemed clear to me…many more people seem to know the words to Bryan’s songs that I had previously suspected.  Nearly every song was a sing-along as the 20,000 crowd swung and sang with Bryan.  Secondly, it isn’t that I am big Bryan Adams fan.  But over the years, I’ve enjoyed selective music from him…and on this day, I lived a dream, that of celebrating my birthday with Bryan singing for me.  Almost half of debonair Delhi danced and sang and celebrated with me.  What more one could ask for, for one’s Birthday, surely, I should feel 18, till I Die!   

Picture Courtesty : http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bryan_Adams_Guadalajara_2006_dsc02599.jpg

Will it....? Won't it....? A Ode to Murphy's Law!

This is my entry for the Blogadda Contest : ‘Get your story published in The Chicken Soup for the Indian Soul – A book of Miracles at BlogAdda‘

When you live alone, you tend to develop strange habits! I too have one. Sitting on my bed, every time I fling an empty coke can at the dustbin, I make a wish! If the can lands inside the bin, the wish will come true and if doesn’t, the wish will not.

That’s when life reveals how cruel it can be. Every time I desperately want a wish to come true, the coke can lands – as a rule – outside the bin! And on occasions when I absentmindedly fling it, it lands – as a rule again, - straight on the bin! All I can say is LIFE LOVES TO NEEDLE YOU IN DESPERATE MOMENTS!!

…And that is Murphy’s Law is all about. It is simply a supposed law of nature…to the effect that ‘anything that can go wrong, will go wrong…’ or simply said, that which should not happen will happen and that which should happen will not! Interesting isn’t it?

I remember those desperate moments I spent at the bus-stop waiting for a bus to CP …but all the buses that came along then would be bound for South Extension. Then there were days when I had to be in South Extension in the next 30 minutes, but all the buses that came along would be bound for CP.

Life’s scheming ways do not end there. The delicious smells from my neighbor’s kitchen hit my nostrils only when I am hungry and there’s nothing in my kitchen and when I am too lazy to work. And the day’s I’ve eaten full stomach, the neighbors don’t seem to be cooking at all!

Now don’t tell me, it’s hunger that makes one’s nostrils pick-up the smell. Ok! But how do you explain this thing with the phone? The days I’m at home, bored out of my mind, and itching for a conversation, the cell refuses to tinkle! I keep checking the screen for any missed calls or SMSes, but No! I then click and see whether the incoming calls are barred or not, but that can’t be… coz, I just got a message from 123 asking me as to whether I needed a particular ‘personal loan’ or not…!! And then there are evenings when I am busy with my office or my colleagues, and everybody who knows me, suddenly remembers to call me. Have you ever wondered why you receive the maximum number of phone calls when you are either taking a shower or having your food!??

Think, you are in a movie house, it always happens that people coming in to watch the movie or the show after you, or after the show has started…always comes and sit on your front rows, blocking your view of the screen where your hero has just delivered a thrilling punch!

The examples are many. So I’ll now end with the most recent and the spookiest!

I begin my mornings with a walk in the nearby park where I used to run into this petite beauty! Her frizzy hair made her look like a Greek Goddess! I often thought of striking a conversation with her, but the stern gaze she gave me from behind her frameless lenses, made me abandon the idea! She’d haunt me for the rest of the day, and till the next morning, but who would like to begin the day with a snub? So I let it be…!!!

Then one day I went on a holiday after almost a year and visited a place called McLeodganj, stayed there in a Buddhist Monastery where they thought you Art like Zen and Kaizen and told you things like why it is good to be a celibate and how one should treat every woman in this planet as you would treat your mother…!

My purification went on for about three weeks, before I returned to real life and set out on my morn walk with a renewed vigor. In the park, someone squealed from behind “Hey! Hi! Where have you been so long? “. It was the frizzy haired girl, and this time around, she wasn’t sporting her frameless lenses too!

I got the lesson…WHEN YOU WANT SOMETHING, DON’T WANT IT. Life will give it to you on a platter then!!!

Epilogue:

 

These days we both jog in the same direction. And yesterday, the frizzy haired girl asked me… “Have I not added fat?”. I was about to say “No”. But I thought, she might either not believe me, or think, I am not paying enough attention to notice anything about her….Now if I say “Yes”, she might still not believe me, or I might be faced with more questions that tests my patience…Like “Where have I put on weight?” “Why is this running around the park is not yielding anything?” and so on. So I decided to answer her diplomatically. I thought of saying “Dear, you’ve not only kept your figure, but you’ve added so much to it!” or else I could say “Le vie a ses raisons, que la raisen ne connait points” …”The life has its reasons, of which, reason knows nothing….” …I finally said this to her…which is in no way related to what she had asked me…!!!

Picture Courtesy : http://magazineusa.com/

Internet Deprivation Syndrome!

......Addiction to Internet. Yes, Addiction...just like one is addicted to Drugs....Coke....Alcohol. I too have succumbed to this new fad....so to speak!! And what do u have when u are deprived of ur addiction....Yes....Withdrawal Symptoms....!

So these days, after 5 Email Ids, 3 Messengers, 2 Blogs, and endless number of WebPages, I end a conversation on my handphone by clicking a button on my computer (Thanks to Voice Chat and VoIP), and gets irritated when other landlines doesn’t respond to the clicks on my computer…. I end up with a unique urbane disease called IDS or Internet Deprivation Syndrome. My fingers are itching…My eyes are twitching….

It has been 6 hrs already. Yes 6 looong looong hours. Yesterday, I chatted for three hours and 27 minutes with my chat buddy ‘love_an_ice’ (it is her online nickname). When ‘Nandini’ came and told me proudly that she chatted for three hours 14 minutes on her handphone hooked to the internet with her online friend from ‘Greenland’, I told her that I chatted for 23 minutes more than her, with this ‘love_an_ice’, from believe it or not, ‘Cyberia’. U should have seen her face then….talking green, she has indeed turned ‘green’. For a difference, she was the loser this time around, and I, the victor. This ‘ice cream lover’ is my online pal. I chat with her almost everyday. Daughter of an Iraqi Colonel, she tells me all the latest gossips from her university and her evening job in a small city in Iraq called Karbala. She even tells me how her people are fighting the ‘Invaders’ and how she heard a giant thud of a bomb dropping just across her street. I tell her all about my life in an Indian metropolis. To the rest of the world, I am ‘Me’, the meek, the quiet, but to this ‘ice cream lover’, I am a ‘Neo’, the oh so cool, the one that all flip for! To this ‘ice cream lover’, ‘Neo’ (Oops! I forgot to tell u, it is my online name) is the epitome of manhood. I can do anything I want. I invent. I tell her all the things I wish had happened to me, as if they actually did! Who is to know? She does not know my real name, my address or anything else. ‘Neo’ actually exists. Here, inside my computer !

As u may have guessed by now, when it comes to the Net, I am a hardcore Nut. I love chatting. I love telling this ice cream lover and anyone else who might want to listen, all about the imaginary ‘Me’. As someone said, “No one knows u r a dog” how true…no one knows ur plain ‘ol ‘Me’ either. True, if otherwise, my life would be made to a movie....would you have brought the tickets...? I don’t want an answer to that.

Next to chatting comes music. In fact, more often than not, while I am chatting or not, I am listening to music. Celine Dion, Bryan Adams, Phill Collins, Ricky Martin, Richard Marx…These are my favorites. All my friends ask me, with that music system behind me, why is it that I have to listen to a sou…sou…l… rendition by Phill Collins on the net, with so much static delay and hiss, that too at a low volume. Say what u will. There is something about the net. Something about the fact that u can actually get some great music out of this box that other people use for spreadsheets and word processors (Ugh! J . Aah! See I couldn’t resist it…the similes - J - or have u seen the saddie :-( ?

….That is what I am…a saddie…. when I can’t get through the chat line of ‘love_an_ice’. Yeah, I do have problems when I withdraw from the net – withdrawal symptoms which I earlier mentioned - I feel like an insomniac…with an utter lack of appetite…even at midnight, my eyes are wide open…eardrums close…breathing becomes heavy…body feels the weightlessness…mouth dries up…palms sweat…heart races…mind crawls….BP rises…stomach sinks…and I am sleepless…! …Withdrawal symptoms when one is deprived of his daily quota of Cocaine…U must’ve heard of this when u talk about Hash…or Diazepam…but not with the internet….well, that’s the age we live in…Yeah!…I am addicted to the Cyberia!

Now, as I lay in the darkness at the dimly lit ceiling. A bright halogen lamp on the adjacent road envelops my room in a strange, sci-fi glo. I expect ET to crawl in through the window, or the entire star trek team to march in. I try humming those melodious songs, or going over the day's happenings. I even try resorting to pleasantly distorted memories of my college days, lacing them with wild exaggerations and silly fantasies. But Nothing works...and sleep is hard to come by...and so I have to log in to internet again...

So, other than chatting and Music, what does the ‘Neo’ do online? All my friends love walking down the super malls in the city, window-shopping. What do they know? That this information super-highway is the largest window-shopping mall in the world. True, true, I cant buy my favorite kurta here (but believe it or not…sooner or later, our very own Dilli Haat is going to be online…) . But I can check out the latest styles. Levi is here. Versace, Armani, Tommy Hilfiger is all mine. Even the designer malls of MG Road are here, so that I can tell my ice-cream lover who the leading designers of my country are and what they have in store for her….Infact, she does the buying too… Indeed!! Who want to ogle at platform stuff in the local bazaars? And in the net, there is no one to question me, asking why I am loitering so long. In fact, they welcome it. Oops, what about Movies, check out that online clips of dreamy Kate Winslet and Micheal Pfeiffer, she is here too…. I can even have a chat with Lara Dutta or Priyanka Chopra, if I want to. Trailors, I watch them long before the guys in my office even hear the movie titles. And Aamir, Aishwarya, they are all here, just in front of me, and even J Lo…Wow! This world just Rocks!!!

Speaking of Cheese, have u ever tried a Maurya Sheraton Kadai Paneer? That is my other hangout! The websites of five star hotels. Have a look at their menu, and yummy, ur stomach is full. Other place where I frequent is the recipe sites. Okay agreed, I am no King when it comes to making home dishes. But when it comes to Egg Florentine, or Cheese Dumplings, dipped in Thousand Island sauce (don’t ask me what I used instead of the thousand island sauce) I certainly have the last word and it just thrills!!

Oh! I am hungry again…where’s it? Where’s the dial-up?, Where’s my GMail? Where’s the ice cream girl? Is she online? Wonder whether the tele department will operate today? I badly need my ‘fix’. Clark Kent goes into a tele booth to turn into a SuperMan….Peter Parker goes in to a washroom to turn into a SpiderMan! And I logon my computer to turn into ‘Neo’…HERE I COME……..‘love_an_ice23’...!!!

EndNote :- Its been a looong months since I heard anything from ‘love_an_ice’….Wonder what happened to her….? May be, one of those precision bombs fired by US might have hit her computer. Now even as I log in each day in the hope of finding her on my chat room, I hear on my TV that MCD has bull-dozed the MG Road Mall as well though it still remains on the Cyberia….And as the title song from ‘Titanic’ wafts across the room from the Celine Dion Site, what remains at the end of the day is the Hope of finding ‘love_an_ice’ once for all!

Nostalgia is indeed a Powerful Drug!

Touring at Mysore - Final Grad year

10th Standard - Bharathamatha High School, Palakkad, Kerala

5th Standard - Bharathamatha High School, Palakkad, Kerala

The Singles' Club!

It was not ‘someone’ who called me a ‘Bachelor’, the first time. It was ‘Something’...The brown official-looking envelope I received by registered post that day had my graduation certificate in it. 'Bachelor of abc', it announced in somewhat gaudy letters as I stood smiling. Infact, I was receiving this, four years after I came out of my college…and three years after I joined my second job...Indeed happy I was…!!

Bachelor!

Till then I was a boy, a brother, a student and even a ‘whatnot’ -- but not a bachelor… All of a sudden, that important piece of paper had given me a new identity…

I know you are dying to tell me things like 'this bachelor is not that bachelor', but believe me, the very next day my phone rang. It was my real-estate agent, an uneasy reminder to the approaching expiration of the initial lease agreement I signed with my landlord.

"Sir, you are a bachelor, are you not?"

"Sure, I am," I said, almost adding, "and now I have proof of that, if you need."

"Sorry sir. The owner is not willing to give the house to bachelors. But don't worry, sir, I have many other houses. You see..."

So that's how it is. No country for the people of Palestine. No food for the starving Somalis. No re-habilitation for the displaced PAP (Project Affected People) of Narmada. No trees for migrating birds. And yes, no houses for poor bachelors.

They are not welcome in residential areas. Bachelors party and make noise round the clock. They go after the neighborhood girls. They don't respect the norms of the colony. They come in groups...

Anyway, I learnt my lesson: Bachelors don't have all the civil rights that 'normal' citizens enjoy. But then, what do we have that makes many a married guy cherish the memories of his long-lost bachelorhood?

Palestinians have to cling to their land. The PAP’ies (as Arundhati Roy calls them) have to go on Hunger Strike….Migrating birds are bound by directions. But a bachelor has few restrictions. Except for renting an apartment and walking into one those stupid 'couples only' clubs, he can have everything else.

He gets up at any time and sneaks into the office unnoticed when others get ready for lunch. He sits to almost any time in front of the computer without worrying about anxious ‘where-are-you’ calls. He stays away from the house for days and no questions are asked. He does whatever he wants on the weekend, in the company of his ‘single’ friends...

Yes. Friends are the most important aspect of any bachelor's life. Without them he practically has no existence, especially if he's staying away from home.

But then one day, over the thundering music and the first round of the cold mocktail, in a brightly lit ‘Cha Bar’, ‘she’ announces her plans to get married to this handsome (so-called) guy that someone else had found for her. Over the double cheers, the naughty comments and laughter, I become aware of something that hurts me somewhere...something inside my stomach is churning...

...My friend is getting married. Of course! It’s something to celebrate... But then, that also means she's leaving our gang!

We attend her wedding, the most colourful function of her life, in full ‘spirits’. All of us! We give her gifts, wish her good luck and retreat to our good old world, one member less. It does not take much time before we find her reduced to much-delayed replies to our bunch of mails -- and as for phone calls, that comes only once in a blue moon day.

For my part, I watch the pile of wedding invitations in the corner of my desk grow at an amazing, alarming pace. Before I know it, most of my cool buddies are gone. And the rest of us soon realize that we are not always welcome to the new circle, the married men or women have formed. So we seek solace behind those office doors where the sun never sets.

I do meet my married friends occasionally. In the office, on a casual walk, or in a busy restaurant. They are my friends still. And they are still friendly as much as their new lifestyle and added responsibilities permit. But...

Oh heck, there's my telephone ringing. I think it is my real-estate agent again.

I promise to remain single... till he finds another suitable single!

Being Independent!

Seven years after I landed this job, my mother asked me my definition of being independent.

"Doing things on my own," I said. "In my own way" Does that include, she wanted to know, learning to look after your own tummy?

She had tried to teach me to cook a thousand times before, in vain. But the way she put it this time, I couldn't just dismiss it. Yes, I decided, if I were to be truly independent -- and landing a job and earning for yourself was all about independence, wasn't it? -- I needed to learn this art of pots and pans too.

Momma had to go out to visit someone. The vegetables, rice and dal were all done. Only chapattis remained. Even the dough was ready to be ‘balled’ and rolled.

"I will make the chapattis," I volunteered.

Momma was surprised. "Are you sure?"

Of course, I was. But momma was not convinced. "Don't worry," I told her firmly, "I will manage."

She was finally persuaded. She left soon.

I entered the kitchen. The utensils, cereals, flour and vegetables there seemed to mock me. This is not for you, friend, they seemed to say. I ignored them.

I lit the stove and placed the pan over it. Then I started rolling out the dough. Slowly, my first-ever chapatti started taking shape. Hmm, it is not so difficult, I thought. A few minutes, and out came a map of Iraq. I consoled myself; it is the chapatti that matters not the shape.

Now to roast it! I picked it up like I had seen momma do, placed it on the pan. After a couple of minutes, I picked it up to turn it over -- and promptly burnt my fingers on the just-too-hot metal.

I rushed out for first aid. After applying Burnol liberally, I returned. The pan was smoking. As for my chapatti, well, it was a piece of charred history by now. Far better than what George Bush could ever manage with Iraq

Happens, I said to myself. I began the construction of another chapatti. This time it came out better, resembling a cloud.

Just as I placed it on the pan, the phone rang. It was my friend. Would I like to come for a movie? Can't, I told her. Oh, okay -- so how was I doing? Fine, I said. With the movie invitation being set aside, she then offered herself for a chit-chqt over a cuppa coffee... I rejected that too...saying...i need to leave for office shortly, with a beaming ‘i-work-on-a-Sunday-too’ tenor...We talked on, till I smelt something burning. "Oh, my chapatti!" I screamed.

I rushed to the kitchen. My second chapatti was beyond salvage. A tear dropped. There was dough for another one. I decided to give it all I had. I rolled it out with infinite care. It didn't come out exactly round, but it resembled a chapatti. I ensured the stove was turned down before placing it on the pan. Fearing it would get burnt too, I took it off very fast.

It was only half-cooked. But half-cooked is better than fully burnt. I ate it with relish.
I was finally an independent adult.

Man-Child!

Of late...i've been getting 'valuable suggestions' from my friends as to how immature i am, or how childish i was.... thought i would clarify them.... I describe myself (even now) as a man-child....i dont want to grow-up mentally. I always want to remain young and constantly re-kindle the child in me....so at times, u people may find me a little 'childish'... bear with me for then, i can't be more and that's the way i am!

Sister!

What's a sister?
A sister is someone
Who's nice as can be
Who knows you're no angel
And neither is she!

A sister is a partner
For goodness and fun
And someone to blame
For the mischief you've done

A sister is a friend
You can talk with all night
She's there to depend on
When things aren't just right

A sister is someone
Who always will come
And nothing comprises with
The love that you share..

Prasanth Moothedath Menon
(This is one poem i wrote when i was still a kid...)Copyright ©2006 Prasanth Moothedath Menon

Lines of Nostalgia!

There was a time when
All around us was green,
The clouds had a silvery lane
The sky was blue
And 't was a lovely scene!
There was a time when
Life was simple and innocent
Like a river flowing down
Its's waters clear and sparkling
Or like a tree growing upwards
With branches green and vibrant
But now a river is
not a river at all...
it's waters muddy and stinking
also the tree has turned
less green and less vibrant
and so is our lives....

Prasanth Moothedath Menon
(This is one poem which i wrote wen i started seeing the world around me!)
Copyright ©2006 Prasanth Moothedath Menon

Smile...Smile a While!

What is a Smile…? We all have been lifted up in spirits when we see a beautiful smile. So what is this smile…where does it come from…? Me thinks, a smile is basically an effect created due to the interplay between the muscles of the face, teeth, supporting gums and emotions from the brain. It is a unique human quality that has the power to express a myriad of human expressions. Each smile is said to be characteristic to an individual, defining his/her personality.

Well, isn’t it impressive to see someone who is totally comfortable with himself and holds the thought that beauty is only superficial and based on vanity? But unfortunately, this thought does not hold good. Aesthetics and function are well integrated into each other and are inseparable. A beautiful smile is an indication of proper and healthy function of human mind.

In today’s world, where the emphasis on beauty is growing rather than diminishing, more and more people from all walks of life are increasingly becoming aware of their smile. Whether this awareness is for personal improvement or stems from the belief that appearances influence professional success, the number of people who are becoming smile conscious is growing. Recent research indicates that presentable people are by far more confident and successful. Looking good certainly makes these people feel good!

Like wise, when someone smiles at you, you yourself feel ‘lifted’. The confidence and healthy mind of the other gets contagious to you. The Impact of such a ‘smile lift’ can readily be seen in the new found happiness and increase in self-esteem. The reason to smile is simple. A smile shows that you're an open, friendly, relaxed person. Even more importantly, people have a a natural reaction to smile when they see you smile, making THEM feel open, friendly, and relaxed on the inside. The ACT of smiling is what shows you're a friendly, open, confident person. The ACT of smiling is what triggers the good feelings in the other person. There is often a metamorphosis in the over-all appearance and improved social interactions of the persons involved. I am here going to reveal about one such smile, the most divine of them all, I have ever seen, which at that point of time, took me to another plane.

It was a pleasant June evening and the downpour had lent freshness to the Delhi breeze. After a day’s labour at the office my body was aching till the bones…fatigued and drained, my only saviour was the lovely weather and a lovelier company (let’s call that person, say what. Well, ‘Anon’) that I would be reveling while I accompany her to Ansal Plaza for some sundry shopping.

My disinterest in shopping propelled me to rejuvenate myself by quickly grabbing a bite while ‘Anon’ shopped. In search of nice eatery (Barista was becoming a little boring for me now) I went around the entire mall but did not find anything worthwhile… thirsty and tired, I rushed to the water cooler and gulped gallons of water…

Revived and refreshed, I was about to go back to ‘Anon’ at first floor when I spotted a Baskin Robbins. I ordered a choc-sundae. Served in a bowl were two scoops of two different chocs over a huge slice of brownie with an icing of whipped cream and a cherry over it.

I casually gazed around having my ice-cream. I found a little girl about four years of age holding a waffle cone which in those petite hands looked like a gigantic mountain. Standing with her older brother, she was glancing curiously at her brother’s ice-cream and then her own… contented that her own was better, she resumed eating her waffle merrily.

I had just began eating my sundae and must’ve had only three four bites when I realized that ‘Anon’ must’ve been waiting for me…so I started for the escalator and was just about a few steps when I noticed that the same little girl standing in front of me and watching me eating my sundae, with her big wondrous eyes…there was something inexplicable about her that made me stop. May be her childish desire for the delectable delicacy I was holding…or it was plain naivety reflected in her face that momentarily brought back the memoirs of my childhood!

For quite some time I just kept watching her, totally fascinated by the simplicity of this beautiful child in whom I saw the child I once had been…

Finally, after coming out of my nostalgia, I moved closer to this sweet child and held my ice-cream spoon, in front of her, offering a bite of what was exclusively to be devoured by me and ‘Anon’! The girl looked at me, and then at the sundae and without any further thoughts and took the bite and then handed over her ice-cream for the one I had! We exchanged it among us! After that she gave me one of the most beautiful divine smiles I’ve ever seen… our brief encounter ended as abruptly as it had begun when her mother called her back and thanked me!

I went on where ‘Anon’ was waiting for me, but my mind was still far away, pre-occupied with the thoughts of that little girl, filled with memoirs of her simple gestures…it was the innocence of that girl in her divine smiles and her desires that left such an imprint on my mind….

When somebody smiles at you like that, you feel so relaxed and comfortable. And it is very important for all of us to feel comfortable. Unfortunately, most people walk around with a rather stern look on their face and are not in the habit of smiling. Yes, it's a learned habit not to smile and you have to reprogram yourself to be in the habit of smiling to everyone. So make it a habit to smile at everyone you meet… and that may be why a poet had once sung :-

Smile smile
a little while…
a lovely smile…
And while you smile…
There’ll be
miles and miles
of smile
Just coz you smile...

Railway Musings!

Ever had a two-day-old egg curry…? Chances are many of us have, certainly those who traveled by the good ’ol Indian Railways on any stretch of this great country. And this Bharatiya Rail ensures that the two-day-old curry often matures to a ripe three-day affair. This must be part of their ‘more for the fare’ deal…for one; they ensure you get to spend more time enjoying their hospitality as the trains invariably runs late.

But since the entire system seems to run on the Indian Stretchable Time (IST), how late is late, one may ask? Is it an hour, or about two or three? Nay too less by any standards. So how about ten? Yes, that sure qualifies as late by any standards. A recent return trip from Kerala (traveling Sleeper Class to enjoy the three S’s – sights, sounds and smells), my super-fast train – thanks to Rains, Floods and et al - to decided to be ‘expressively’ late.

The traveling conditions changed, and ambience too changed the second every one in the compartment came to know that they would be spending more than a few extra hours there itself. And out came some interesting facts in to focus in the compartment’s fluorescent lights. Fact One – ‘Delay equals boredom. And boredom equals ‘nosey parker syndrome’. Fact Two – when lemon rice runs out, the ‘Subramaniams’ turn sour. Till now they are with relish, the four tiffins (Baby ‘S’ a healthy 13 year old girl, ate rather well) of the ‘sappad’ garnished with ‘Thakkali’ (Tomato) chutney and crisp ‘Appalams’, while I survived on the railway’s foil packed rubber reinforced chappathis with yellow curry of indeterminate origin.

With food gone, Mr & Mrs ‘S’ (and the pig-tailed baby ‘S’) need some new entertainment and quickly found one…! Me ! they could ignore me for the past two days as I was buried in my books. But now with the journey going over-time, I am an easy target. “What is that you are eating” ? Asked Mrs ‘S’ leaning over to my side. ‘Egg Curry” I answer. “Terrible Choice” she declares, “Simbly Terrible” He adds an adjective, ignoring my raised eye-brows.

From then on, I am treated to a holistic lecture on exactly how terrible my egg curry is. From the state of the hen’s mental make-up, to the physical make-up and the sweating habits of the railway cook, and even the water they use to dilute the curry ! “God knows where they came from”.

I wanted to heave. But refuse to play to the gallery. Instead I try a chess move, and offer some of my lunch to the ‘pigtailed devil’, who driven by her teen-aged appetite, tucks in, with so much as a glance at amma and appa.

The strategy works, and her parental units have been silenced, effectively for the rest of the journey. And I made a mental note to pack a kilo of lemon rice for myself, the next time I travel on Indian Railways.

Net Deprivation Syndrome!

......Addiction to Internet. Yes, Addiction...just like one is addicted to Drugs....Coke....Alcohol. I too have succumbed to this new fad....so to speak!! And what do u have when u are deprived of ur addiction....Yes....Withdrawal Symptoms....!

So these days, after 5 Email Ids, 3 Messengers, 2 Blogs, and endless number of WebPages, I end a conversation on my handphone by clicking a button on my computer (Thanks to Voice Chat and VoIP), and gets irritated when other landlines doesn’t respond to the clicks on my computer…. I end up with a unique urbane disease called IDS or Internet Deprivation Syndrome. My fingers are itching…My eyes are twitching….

It has been 6 hrs already. Yes 6 looong looong hours. Yesterday, I chatted for three hours and 27 minutes with my chat buddy ‘love_an_ice’ (it is her online nickname). When ‘Nandini’ came and told me proudly that she chatted for three hours 14 minutes on her handphone hooked to the internet with her online friend from ‘Greenland’, I told her that I chatted for 23 minutes more than her, with this ‘love_an_ice’, from believe it or not, ‘Cyberia’. U should have seen her face then….talking green, she has indeed turned ‘green’. For a difference, she was the loser this time around, and I, the victor. This ‘ice cream lover’ is my online pal. I chat with her almost everyday. Daughter of an Iraqi Colonel, she tells me all the latest gossips from her university and her evening job in a small city in Iraq called Karbala. She even tells me how her people are fighting the ‘Invaders’ and how she heard a giant thud of a bomb dropping just across her street. I tell her all about my life in an Indian metropolis. To the rest of the world, I am ‘Me’, the meek, the quiet, but to this ‘ice cream lover’, I am a ‘Neo’, the oh so cool, the one that all flip for! To this ‘ice cream lover’, ‘Neo’ (Oops! I forgot to tell u, it is my online name) is the epitome of manhood. I can do anything I want. I invent. I tell her all the things I wish had happened to me, as if they actually did! Who is to know? She does not know my real name, my address or anything else. ‘Neo’ actually exists. Here, inside my computer !

As u may have guessed by now, when it comes to the Net, I am a hardcore Nut. I love chatting. I love telling this ice cream lover and anyone else who might want to listen, all about the imaginary ‘Me’. As someone said, “No one knows u r a dog” how true…no one knows ur plain ‘ol ‘Me’ either. True, if otherwise, my life would be made to a movie....would you have brought the tickets...? I don’t want an answer to that.

Next to chatting comes music. In fact, more often than not, while I am chatting or not, I am listening to music. Celine Dion, Bryan Adams, Phill Collins, Ricky Martin, Richard Marx…These are my favorites. All my friends ask me, with that music system behind me, why is it that I have to listen to a sou…sou…l… rendition by Phill Collins on the net, with so much static delay and hiss, that too at a low volume. Say what u will. There is something about the net. Something about the fact that u can actually get some great music out of this box that other people use for spreadsheets and word processors (Ugh! J . Aah! See I couldn’t resist it…the similes - J - or have u seen the saddie L…?

….That is what I am…a saddie…. when I can’t get through the chat line of ‘love_an_ice’. Yeah, I do have problems when I withdraw from the net – withdrawal symptoms which I earlier mentioned - I feel like an insomniac…with an utter lack of appetite…even at midnight, my eyes are wide open…eardrums close…breathing becomes heavy…body feels the weightlessness…mouth dries up…palms sweat…heart races…mind crawls….BP rises…stomach sinks…and I am sleepless…! …Withdrawal symptoms when one is deprived of his daily quota of Cocaine…U must’ve heard of this when u talk about Hash…or Diazepam…but not with the internet….well, that’s the age we live in…Yeah!…I am addicted to the Cyberia!

Now, as I lay in the darkness at the dimly lit ceiling. A bright halogen lamp on the adjacent road envelops my room in a strange, sci-fi glo. I expect ET to crawl in through the window, or the entire star trek team to march in. I try humming those melodious songs, or going over the day's happenings. I even try resorting to pleasantly distorted memories of my college days, lacing them with wild exaggerations and silly fantasies. But Nothing works...and sleep is hard to come by...and so I have to log in to internet again...

So, other than chatting and Music, what does the ‘Neo’ do online? All my friends love walking down the super malls in the city, window-shopping. What do they know? That this information super-highway is the largest window-shopping mall in the world. True, true, I cant buy my favorite kurta here (but believe it or not…sooner or later, our very own Dilli Haat is going to be online…) . But I can check out the latest styles. Levi is here. Versace, Armani, Tommy Hilfiger is all mine. Even the designer malls of MG Road are here, so that I can tell my ice-cream lover who the leading designers of my country are and what they have in store for her….Infact, she does the buying too… Indeed!! Who want to ogle at platform stuff in the local bazaars? And in the net, there is no one to question me, asking why I am loitering so long. In fact, they welcome it. Oops, what about Movies, check out that online clips of dreamy Kate Winslet and Micheal Pfeiffer, she is here too…. I can even have a chat with Lara Dutta or Priyanka Chopra, if I want to. Trailors, I watch them long before the guys in my office even hear the movie titles. And Aamir, Aishwarya, they are all here, just in front of me, and even J Lo…Wow! This world just Rocks!!!

Speaking of Cheese, have u ever tried a Maurya Sheraton Kadai Paneer? That is my other hangout! The websites of five star hotels. Have a look at their menu, and yummy, ur stomach is full. Other place where I frequent is the recipe sites. Okay agreed, I am no King when it comes to making home dishes. But when it comes to Egg Florentine, or Cheese Dumplings, dipped in Thousand Island sauce (don’t ask me what I used instead of the thousand island sauce) I certainly have the last word and it just thrills!!

Oh! I am hungry again…where’s it? Where’s the dial-up?, Where’s my GMail? Where’s the ice cream girl? Is she online? Wonder whether the tele department will operate today? I badly need my ‘fix’. Clark Kent goes into a tele booth to turn into a SuperMan….Peter Parker goes in to a washroom to turn into a SpiderMan! And I logon my computer to turn into ‘Neo’…HERE I COME……..‘love_an_ice23’...!!!

EndNote :- Its been a looong months since I heard anything from ‘love_an_ice’….Wonder what happened to her….? May be, one of those precision bombs fired by US might have hit her computer. Now even as I log in each day in the hope of finding her on my chat room, I hear on my TV that MCD has bull-dozed the MG Road Mall as well though it still remains on the Cyberia….And as the title song from ‘Titanic’ wafts across the room from the Celine Dion Site, what remains at the end of the day is the Hope of finding ‘love_an_ice’ once for all!

Will it....? Wont it....? A Ode to Murphy's Law!

When you live alone, you tend to develop strange habits! I too have one. Sitting on my bed, every time I fling an empty coke can at the dustbin, I make a wish! If the can lands inside the bin, the wish will come true and if doesn’t, the wish will not.

That’s when life reveals how cruel it can be. Every time I desperately want a wish to come true, the coke can lands – as a rule – outside the bin! And on occasions when I absentmindedly fling it, it lands – as a rule again, - straight on the bin! All I can say is LIFE LOVES TO NEEDLE YOU IN DESPERATE MOMENTS!!

…And that is Murphy’s Law is all about. It is simply a supposed law of nature…to the effect that ‘anything that can go wrong, will go wrong…’ or simply said, that which should not happen will happen and that which should happen will not! Interesting isn’t it?

I remember those desperate moments I spent at the bus-stop waiting for a bus to CP …but all the buses that came along then would be bound for South Extension. Then there were days when I had to be in South Extension in the next 30 minutes, but all the buses that came along would be bound for CP.

Life’s scheming ways do not end there. The delicious smells from my neighbor’s kitchen hit my nostrils only when I am hungry and there’s nothing in my kitchen and when I am too lazy to work. And the day’s I’ve eaten full stomach, the neighbors don’t seem to be cooking at all!

Now don’t tell me, it’s hunger that makes one’s nostrils pick-up the smell. Ok! But how do you explain this thing with the phone? The days I’m at home, bored out of my mind, and itching for a conversation, the cell refuses to tinkle! I keep checking the screen for any missed calls or SMSes, but No! I then click and see whether the incoming calls are barred or not, but that can’t be… coz, I just got a message from 123 asking me as to whether I needed a particular ‘personal loan’ or not…!! And then there are evenings when I am busy with my office or my colleagues, and everybody who knows me, suddenly remembers to call me. Have you ever wondered why you receive the maximum number of phone calls when you are either taking a shower or having your food!??

Think, you are in a movie house, it always happens that people coming in to watch the movie or the show after you, or after the show has started…always comes and sit on your front rows, blocking your view of the screen where your hero has just delivered a thrilling punch!

The examples are many. So I’ll now end with the most recent and the spookiest!

I begin my mornings with a walk in the nearby park where I used to run into this petite beauty! Her frizzy hair made her look like a Greek Goddess! I often thought of striking a conversation with her, but the stern gaze she gave me from behind her frameless lenses, made me abandon the idea! She’d haunt me for the rest of the day, and till the next morning, but who would like to begin the day with a snub? So I let it be…!!!

Then one day I went on a holiday after almost a year and visited a place called McLeodganj, stayed there in a Buddhist Monastery where they thought you Art like Zen and Kaizen and told you things like why it is good to be a celibate and how one should treat every woman in this planet as you would treat your mother…!

My purification went on for about three weeks, before I returned to real life and set out on my morn walk with a renewed vigor. In the park, someone squealed from behind “Hey! Hi! Where have you been so long? “. It was the frizzy haired girl, and this time around, she wasn’t sporting her frameless lenses too!

I got the lesson…WHEN YOU WANT SOMETHING, DON’T WANT IT. Life will give it to you on a platter then!!!

Epilogue: These days we both jog in the same direction. And yesterday, the frizzy haired girl asked me… “Have I not added fat?”. I was about to say “No”. But I thought, she might either not believe me, or think, I am not paying enough attention to notice anything about her….Now if I say “Yes”, she might still not believe me, or I might be faced with more questions that tests my patience…Like “Where have I put on weight?” “Why is this running around the park is not yielding anything?” and so on. So I decided to answer her diplomatically. I thought of saying “Dear, you’ve not only kept your figure, but you’ve added so much to it!” or else I could say “Le vie a ses raisons, que la raisen ne connait points” …”The life has its reasons, of which, reason knows nothing….” …I finally said this to her…which is in no way related to what she had asked me…!!!