Life, as it goes.

Na jaane kahan kahan se ....

2007-05-11T10:17:00.000+05:30

I was going through Manishbhai's blog and i read the post "Mee Punekar, Rest (Ko) Baharkar", the comments it has received and the responses that Manishbhai gave. I have also been subject to Manishbhai's criticism of slotting North Indians and considering UP/ Bihar has twins etc. etc. I respect his point view and also understand that for somone hailing from the North Indian states, it must be irritating to be constantly considered a level below when it comes to culture, discipline and law abidence just because they live in the North.

In this post I am not going to give my opinion on this subject as I do not consider my view broad enough to emcompass the plethora of issues and opinions involved in this sensitive subject. Another reason why I refrain from giving my opinion and also sometimes stop other people from doing so is that most opinions are more often then not based on personal experiences and anecdotal information. One more reason and a dangerous one is brainwashing that we receive from people around us. Our parents, elders, friends whom are the opinion makers in our life influence us and till the time we have our own experiences we assume theirs as ours.

Giving you an example of how our opinions get etched in stone out of personal experiences is my own dislike for Delhi because I got severely eve-teased on one of my trips there. Since then I feel uncomfortable with the attitude of men there. This is a biased opinion and definately based on personal experience. There is no reason for me to dislike an entire city and all the people in it just because the "nazar" of those men is wierd. Fact remains, men are men everywhere and its not that I don't get felt up in Mumbai but still I refuse to change my opinion of Delhi. Though I have Delhites as friends, I still don't like that city. You will call me unfair and I accept it but then maybe so are you if you have certain generalisations which are based merely on things that have happened to you.

Such incidents and experiences happen every day to us and instead of considering them exceptions to the rule we tend to believe them to be the rules. Just yesterday I faced a similar
situation. I took a cab from Grant Road station to my office just like every other day but on my way I encountered a traffic jam. The cab driver, a youngish guy, had to manouver around a huge truck which was blocking the already crowded lane.

Cabs ahead of us managed to squeeze through the small gap that was available beside the truck, and since my cab was exactly behind the truck, the cabbie had to swerve a bit to get through and inadvertently hit a bike parked on the side of the road. The bike's owner suddenly exploded into wild abuses.

The words were distinctly Marathi and horridly dirty with mother and sister sprinkled all over. The jist of what the man said was, "Don't you know how to drive, you @#$##%^, na jaane kahan kahan se aa jaate hai, saala #$^!@#&^, go back to where you came from, @#$%&#* !#%Q@#$^ @!#!^#$^!!^#$ .... and so on.

My cabbie took it very calmly and said, "Maaf karna boss. Galti se lag gaya. Thoda sa bike hatai lo toh nikal jayenge hum." His accent was obviously North Indian (sorry Manishbhai for slotting but thats how it sounded)

That angered the man even more. He stood in front of the cab and yelled even more in sickening language. Some people started to gather. I looked out of the window hoping the man might calm down if he saw a woman in the cab but no, the guy was still going on. Firstly he had parked in a no parking zone and upar se there wasn't even a scratch on his bike.

The cabbie looked at me puzzled. But he was a man after all and was obviously angered at the abuses. I decided to get off there to save him the trouble so that he could just take a turn from there and get away. Though before I left I wanted to do just one thing.

I walked to the yelling man and said in Marathi, "Bas boss. abhi jaane do."

"Arre madam aap in logon ko nahi jaanti. Na jaane kahan se aa gaya hai." He replied, calmer but his eyes were burning still with some wierd anger.

"Boss, uska toh pata nahi par aapki bhasha se pata chal jaata hi ki aap kahan se aaye ho." I replied quietly in his language, "Abhi ho gaya ho toh jaane do humko."

Thank God there was some shame left in the man and he moved aside, I started walking and the cabbie instead of turning and going away, overtook me and indicated me to get back in. He dropped me at my desitnation without a word and as I exited the cab he said, "Thank you madam." I like to believe that the Thank you was not just for paying him the fare.

Now this incident will influence my opinion either strengthen it or break it but I cannot by any stretch of imagination consider all North Indian cabbies as good and all Marathi manus as bad. I am not saying that we are not entitled to our opinions, we are definately. Freedom of thought and freedom of opinion are our rights in a democracy but there is also a duty attached to it, a duty to keep an open mind and an open heart. Neither let our opinions influence our actions in a negative manner nor let popular opinions govern us.

We have the right and the duty to decide how to react to a situation but remember that our reaction will build some else's opinion. We have the power to be positive and build a nation that is powerful not because of its military power but because of the power of unified people.

This time of the year

2007-03-14T13:59:00.000+05:30

Those of you have been regular here know that I have to do the vanishing act at this time of the year due to the deadline of financial year end, March 31.

I won't be adding anything new out here till mid-April or so because firstly March is already a month with double the work than normal, secondly my accountant wants to take a holiday in mid-April and thirdly the statutory auditors are coming in from next week. In short, I am in for a royal mess.

The second story of the Mumbai Trilogy is fresh in the mind and I manage to write a para or two beech beech mein but I don't think I can complete it soon. So, will see you all sometime, if I survive this March 31 and its after shocks.

P.S. Thank you all for the encouragement to my first story. Hope to keep at it.

The Spirit of Mumbai

2007-03-12T13:25:00.000+05:30

Shruti liked to be on time for her 9:16 Churchgate slow train because the 40 minute journey from Andheri to Chruchgate is tedious and tiring, to say the least, and more so if you have to stand in midst of a crowd. So she would leave home keeping a few minutes to spare and wait at the platform. She was still young enough to jump into a moving train and secure a comfortable window seat. It was her routine and her other regular friends grudgingly let her take the best seat everyday because she was the quickest and the most agile.

Shruti believed that mornings in Mumbai make you realize the importance of minutes. minutes late in leaving home means you miss a train and land up 10 minutes late at office. That’s why people swear by their “7:48s” and “8:16s”– a reason why Mumbaikars walk, talk, eat, speak and breathe at a supersonic speed. And that’s why the city pulsates with motion every hour of the day or night. Once in a while it withdraws a step or two; it did a few days ago on July 11 due to the bomb blasts but then it bounces back. Call it desperation, or a no-choice existence, but nothing can really defeat the dynamic, never say die, spirit of Mumbai – a cliché but nevertheless absolutely true.

But today, contrary to her usual habit, Shruti was late. It was happening too frequently for her comfort, mainly because of her mother-in-law - Mummyji as she called her. She had come to stay with her from Indore and being a woman cocooned in a small town all her life, she just didn’t understand the ways of Mumbai, in spite of numerous patient explanations by both Shruti and her husband Adit.

“Will you just wash the bathroom sink and the shelves before you leave today?” Mummyji had said when Shruti was going for her shower. Shruti hated these sweetly uttered disguised orders which if she did not obey, the old lady would sulk and pout and ridiculously complain to her son how wrong his choice is.

“I am already a bit late, I’ll do it over the weekend.” Shruti muttered weakly, knowing fully well that the weekend would pass in myriad other left over chores; vacuuming the carpet, cleaning the refrigerator, the selling of the piling raddi which Mummyji had already reminded her of more than once. Shruti wished her bai would return soon from the holiday so that some of her burden could be shared.

Adit was standing near the door waiting for the elevator, about to leave. His mother always made sure that her son left comfortably in time. He noticed Shruti’s angry expression and looked at her, his eyes conveying a mixture of apology and request. To his mother he said, “We do all that over weekends Mummy, that’s how it works in Mumbai.”

“A woman’s priority should be her home, you should be ok reaching office late but keeping the house clean is your duty,” preached Mummyji and Shruti lost it completely. She wanted to yell back that if cleaning the bathroom sink would fetch her 50K per month she would gladly make that a priority but she controlled herself. Just then the elevator opened at the floor and Adit left shaking his head in frustration but he also let it be. There was no time for arguments.

Shruti did a half-hearted job of the instructed chores but in her rush, spilled shampoo all over, dropped the towel on the wet floor and on top of it the water stopped right in the middle of her hair wash.

As she stepped out of the shower she was in the foulest of moods and certain that she would miss her regular train. Without further interaction with Mummyji she got ready and rushed out of the house grabbing her handbag and laptop. Usually she took a bus to the station which was more or less the same one everyday. Since it came from Lokhandwala it was always less crowded because the public there weren’t the types to travel in BEST. But today she missed it too. Again, in the matter of minutes.

The bus that came was burdened with a crowd and several men hung at the door. With a yell of, “Jaagah dya jaagah dya,” she managed a foothold and shoved in clutching her handbag and laptop to her chest. Surrounded by men, she hated the short ride to the station.

It was too crowded to pin the blame on any one of them but she strongly suspected being felt up by someone. So she shifted, stepped on a couple of toes and elbowed innocent, unsuspecting people but somehow the perverse hand found its way again to her waist and stayed there. She couldn’t inch away anymore and as both her hands were full she suffered.

Thankfully the stop arrived soon but by the time she got off the bus she would have happily strangled the man who had felt her up only if she were able to identify who it was. It wasn’t really being felt up that was humiliating; it was the helplessness and inability to stop or even avenge it that took her goat.

She walked to the station at olympic speed, fueled more by anger than anything else, hoping her train would still be on the platform. Surprisingly there was a train but she soon realized it was the 9:23 one and even that was ready to leave. As the driver honked twice Shruti ran as fast as she could. She cursed the laptop and vowed to never bring it home again.

She made it into the compartment panting. All seats were taken, so she placed the laptop on the overhead rack and stood near the door, finally relaxing for the first time that morning.

The train had already started by then.

"Excuse me," a voice called but Shruti did not pay attention. The words were repeated. She looked at the direction of the voice wondering who it was.

"Is this bag yours?" The question was addressed to her and it came from a young lady : the typical suburban Mumbai everyday first-class commuter complete with an ipod and a book to pass the totally inactive one hour in the train. She was pointing towards the laptop above.

"Yes," Shruti replied.

"Can you come and sit here?" she indicated to a seat next to hers.

"Ummm why?" Shruti asked, a bit taken aback. Nobody in Mumbai tells others what to do, no one bothers really and never in the first class.

"Please sit here," the woman repeated.

"No, I can't sit inside. It’s too hot. I am ok here," Shruti replied, almost rudely. The morning’s anger was resurfacing and she felt her day was becoming worse by the minute.

"If you don't sit here, I will pull the chain." The woman said, her voice trembled a bit and it was rising to a nervous pitch.

"Arre, for what joy?" Shruti’s voice was mocking. She noticed the women around her looking up in alarm to see what was happening but no one intervened.

"What if you leave the bag and get off somewhere?" the woman almost shouted.

"I would loose my job if I leave it here and get off." Shruti replied and went towards the seats. Her temper was flaring again. She couldn’t possibly take one more altercation without blowing her top.

Up close Shruti saw that the lady was youngish and noticed the mehendi and chooda on her hands - the typical sign of a recently married woman. She seemed edgy and something about her was amiss but Shruti could not place it.

"Just sit here, who knows what’s in the bag?" Her face had turned white and the voice was panicky; her eyes held a strange fear.

"What do you mean?" But as she uttered those words Shruti realized what the woman really meant.

"I mean… what if this bag ..." she spoke in spurts but did not complete the sentence.

"Has a bomb?" Shruti completed it for her. She did not reply but Shruti could sense some hostility all around her. "I don't have a bomb in that bag. It’s just a laptop."

"I would take your word for it if you sit here, near it."

"I won’t sit inside. It is very hot and I don't like reaching office all drenched in sweat. You are a working woman, I’m sure you understand that."

"Listen that’s a stupid excuse, just sit here,” she was almost yelling.

"Oh shut up, do I look like a terrorist to you? If you have a problem just get off the train.” Shruti exploded. Her already frayed nerves gave way to anger.

Other commuters were eyeing both of them with curiosity. Nothing is more entertaining than a train fight. Most of them probably had opinions about the argument but none of them said anything. Since this wasn’t Shruti’s regular train she got no support from strangers.

Just then the train slowed down and came to a stop at Ville Parle. A bunch of women rushed in and Shruti took the opportunity to slip away and take her position at the door once again. A college girl took the seat the woman had asked Shruti to sit on. She gave Shruti a black look. Shruti saw the expression and for some reason felt the same sensation of something being amiss. She looked away but continued to feel the woman’s eyes boring into her.

The train had almost reached Khar Road, Shruti recognized the place by the stationery compartments of the Rajdhani which were washed every morning in the yard there. A man was using the water from the pipes used for cleaning the train to take his morning shower.

The tracks wove around on the ground glistening like silver streaks in the early morning sun. Inside the train she could hear a girl besides her giggling away on the cell phone. Another lady was softly snoring, and on the opposite seats two women were involved in an animated discussion.

Suddenly one after the other trains zoomed in on both the right and the left creating a cacophony and drowning every other sensation in the resonating rhythmic rattle of metal clashing against itself. There was an odd silence after both the trains passed which in the next instant slipped into the regular sounds of the commuters.

Station after station went by and the crowd increased. Shruti continued standing. She took out a book from her handbag and got immersed in it. At Churchgate the crowd poured out. Shruti did not see the woman again.

She reached office late but in time for the meeting where she had to make a presentation. After that there was a meeting with her reporting boss and then a conference call with an overseas client. As the day wore on Shruti almost forgot the incidents in the morning. The day also steadily improved as work concluded successfully and her boss was appreciative of her efforts. That Friday evening she went home in much better spirits than when she had left.

Back at home Mummyji had kept dinner ready and with her raised spirits even Shruti warmed towards her. Besides, the weekend had started and Shruti was in the mood to relax. Adit was also staying home and they planned to go out to the famed Siddhivinayak Temple with Mummyji on Saturday evening.

____________________________________________________________________

“Raddi ke liye,” the man wearing a filthy dhoti, shirt and a red gamchha stood at the door. Shruti nodded and opened the doors to let him in.

The man entered carrying a gunny bag and a metal weighing scale. He squatted on the floor and the weighing machine rattled as he adjusted it for the task ahead.

Adit was watching T.V behind her on the sofa – an umpteenth rerun of his favourite movie Andaz Apna Apna. She considered asking him to help her carry the newspapers from the storeroom but decided against it to avoid Mummyji’s disapproval of making her son do some house work. Besides she liked looking through old newspapers and refreshing her memory of the events that had passed.

Shruti fetched the huge pile of newspapers from the storeroom, passing the kitchen where Mummyji was probably cooking some heavy weekend lunch for her dear son. She placed the bulk of newspapers and sat down in front of the man as he began his work. As was her custom, she started scanning through the newspapers, and handing them to the raddi-wala.

There was a time when Shruti used to spend leisurely mornings reading and re-reading newspapers but now life did not grant her that luxury. In her early morning rush she hardly got time to read the newspapers, though now as she went through them she realized she hadn’t missed much. Most of the news was useless, about politics which she didn’t care about and the weather which she could predict better then the Met Department. The balance was filled up with speculations on Abhishek and Aishwarya’s blooming romance, on the sets of the remake of Umrao Jaan – as if the nation had no other business than to know whether a former Miss World and the Bachchan scion were capable of romancing or not!

She quickly discarded the newspapers after a brief glance at each but slowed down as she came to the reports of the bomb blast on the 12^th. Disconcertingly she stared at the pictures of the mangled trains and wounded people. Similar pictures appeared on the following days.

On the day of the bomb blast, a feeling of unreality had overwhelmed her as if all of it were a nightmare but these pictures once again asserted the reality. Shruti felt a slight shudder racing up her spine.

Mahim, Khar Road, Dadar … names of places she passed everyday without a second thought but as she read those reports her mind imagined the havoc that had happened just a week ago. She could almost smell the acrid smoke from the blasts, which in reality was just the strong masala that Mummyji had put in the tadka in the kitchen.

Her eyes moved on to a report that appeared everyday with stories of those affected by the gruesome act - “In memory of the victims of the bomb blast.”

Suddenly Shruti froze, stunned and unable to react.

Below the heading staring back at her was a picture of a young couple: the proud smirk of a man and the shy smile of a woman. The report read, “Vikas and Raksha, a couple returning from their honeymoon killed in blasts on July 11 is one more example of innocent lives lost in the mindless act of terrorism.”

Amidst the rattling of a train, and swirling visions of silver streaked tracks, a voice echoed in her mind: “Can you come and sit here?"

…and the newspaper slid onto the floor from her hand.

Edited by - Deepak Jeswal.

Disclaimer: Based on real incident narrated on a post on this blog titled "Fear" posted on Septmber 25, 2006. With the exception of that everything else is a work of fiction, characters existing only in my mind.

Pensive Peek - Part 2

2007-03-07T15:59:00.000+05:30

The bell rang just as I put a double dash under the answer. The observer lady was collecting the papers very slowly so I stapled the supplementary papers together, checked my name and roll no. on the papers and gathered my things. I hadn't taken time to check anything else but resigned to "Jo hoga dekha jayega."

"How was it?" Harsh asked the moment I exited the class.
"Thank you. I shall be indebted to both of you forever." Shaun interrupted before I could reply and grabbed Harsh's hand, he was just behind me.
"I think I will pass. Thats all I want. If I get more than 60 my father will have a fit." Nili laughed following Shaun.
"I am swearing myself off maths from today onwards. Its not worth it." I said.
"Oh no, don't say that. You were pretty good." Harsh said.

Just as I was about to reply, some of Harsh's friends called and he left with a hasty good-bye. Shaun, Nili and I walked towards the exit. Not one of us discussed the paper, we had already discussed it enough inside the exam room. Instead we talked of the next paper which was a peice of cake for me. English. Especially the essays in which I would fill pages knowing fully well that no one is ever going to read them. On hindsight I was stupid to have worked so hard on them as today they would be lying dusty and hardly legible in some forgotten store house of the Education Board or in all probability fed into the shredder.

The rest of the papers were ok with a couple of bumps in science and social studies but overall it was good. I was an average student and didn't aspire for more, at least not in the 10th standard. We continued to share the short friendship that we had struck due to the permutations and combinations of our last names during those few days.

Every day Harsh, Shaun, Nili and I would leave together from the class. Harsh gustily discussing his answers and the rest of us giving polite responses before his more reciprocative friends came and he left. I liked him but realised this was no time for such an indulgence. I had a vague hope that after the exams I would get his number or something and continue the friendship but was not keen enough to initiate such a request mainly because i knew that such an action had a high probability of me making a fool of myself in public.

On the last day of the exam everyone jumped up from the exam before time. The narrow corridor of the school was flooding with joyous, chattering crowds of kids. I was more than anything else relieved. My other school friends and I had already planned the celebration and Papa was to drop me to my friend's place where I was going to spend the night. As we left the exam hall Harsh stepped beside me pushing Nili a bit to the side. He was out of breath. Shaun was walking a little ahead.

"I want to talk to you." He said, his voice was a bit low.
"Huh?" I could not understand in all the noise around us.
"Come out and I will tell you." He said and strode ahead to walk with Shaun.

Nili looked at me and raised her eyebrow. She nudged me and winked. Generally Mt. Carmel girls mature faster, she seemed to know something I didn't.

"What?" I asked a little indignantly.
"He is going to propose." She giggled.
"Are you mad?" I said, scandalised to say the least. When I was that age, believe it or not, it was an age of innocence. Though I did not accept Nili's opinion, my heart did skip a bit. If she was right, what would I do? What would I say?
"But you like him na?" Nili said. That girl knew everything.
"You are mad." I repeated.
"Its ok, all girls like him. He is cute, but not my type. Shaun's more my type." She continued imparting her gyan.

Thankfully, we reached the ground floor before Nili could explain what she meant by 'type'. The courtyard was filled with people. Children and parents. Most faces were happy but there were a few geeky once who were still tense. I looked around but neither Harsh nor Shaun were to be seen. Nili's elder brother had come to pick her up so she scribbled her phone number on a piece of paper and after a hasty good-bye left with her brother.

I was about to give up and leave when someone tapped on my shoulder. I turned around to see Shaun and Harsh.

"Hey. Its finally over huh?" Shaun said in an excited voice. "What are you doing now?" He asked.
"My dad is coming to pick me up. I will go to Municipal Market with friends later." I replied. "What are you guys doing?"
"My mom's here. I am going home and leaving for Mumbai tonight." Shaun informed and then added, "I want you to meet my mom."

It was then that I noticed the lady standing next to him. She was beautiful and dignified. Shaun introduced me as "my saviour" embarassing me quite a bit. All this while Harsh was standing there quietly. I was getting more and more curious as to what he wanted but couldn't be rude to Shaun's mom. She embarrassed me further by thanking me for all the help I had given to Shaun.

"It was nothing. I didn't do much, Harsh also helped." I said and looked around only to find him gone. "Where is Harsh?" I asked Shaun.
"Don't know, he was here just now." He was equally surprised.
"Will we go now beta?" His mom asked.
"In a bit, you get the car, I am coming." Shaun said.

I said good-bye to aunty and Shaun and turned away. I spotted papa beyond the gate astride on his Bajaj Chetak and started walking towards the gate all the while looking for Harsh.

"Listen Priya." It was Shaun again.
"Yup." I stopped walking
"I got something for you." He said in a shy voice.
"What?"
"I want to give you something." He repeated a little louder. He was blushing pink. He was so tall he had to bow his head while speaking to me.
"Huh?" was all I could say.
"This." He said as a he handed a tiny flouroscent green envelope. "To say thank you."

The envelope had a card with a cartoon on it and the words. Thank you. In his scrawny hand he had written a small message, then his name and phone number.

"This is really sweet." I replied quite stunned at his action.
"These is something more." His face had turned to a shade of magenta by now but he was smiling from cheek to cheek. Before I could reply he took hold of my hand and placed a cadbury 5 star on my palm.
"Hey thanks. This is literally sweet." I smiled, I am sure even I was blushing. It was the first time a guy had firstly paid attention to me, secondly acknowledged my help and thirdly given me a chocolate.
"Ummm, can you, ummmm, I was thinking if you would ... I mean, don't take it otherwise but, I ... your phone number. Can you give me your phone number?" His hesitation was obvious.
"Ummm, no problem." I said and rattled off my phone number and after a quick good-bye resumed walking towards the gate.

I think I had a big smile on my face. This was something I would repeat a thousand times over tonight at the slumber party with my friends. Harsh was still nowhere to be seen. Papa was waiting. I wanted to find Harsh before he became impatient but there was no sign of him anywhere. There was no explicable reason for me to hang around without alarming Papa, I was not sure how he would react if I said I got a card and a chocolate from one guy and was waiting because another guy wanted to talk to me. So I tucked the card in my jeans pocket and resignedly walked towards him.

"What took you so long? And who was that tall guy with you?" He asked immediately.
"He was one seat ahead in the exams, we became friends." I said quietly. My mind was still on Harsh.
"He gave you something?" Papa's vulture eyes had seen it.
"Chocolate." I showed him the 5 star. I was not going to show him the card as he is a stickler for discipline and copying in Board exams would be totally unacceptable to him.
"So ready to celebrate?" He asked.
"Totally." I replied smiling as I remembered that this was the last day of exams and it was my right to by happy.

Papa started the scooter and I climbed pillion. As we started our ride I turned my head to have one last look at the remaining students and I saw a hand waving to me. It was Harsh, he was standing beside a shiny blue Maruti Esteem about to get in. The distance between us was growing and for a second I wanted to ask Papa to stop but I didn't. I waved back and the next moment he disappeared in the car. I was to never know what he wanted to tell me. I guess thats how fate planned it.

Somehow even I didn't make any serious attempts to contact him either. Not that I would have come up with any brilliant plans had I decided to pursue him and not that it matters much now as life has taken its course and given me all that I hoped for but I still pipe up when someone mentions news of him from here and there. Harsh's life has taken him to shores far away, he is in London now the last I heard. Rishabh knows him via via some friends, coincidently, he is a CA and a lawyer.

Shaun on the other hand kept in touch with me for some time. When results came we compared marks, he had 67 and I had 74, for days he wondered what did he copy wrong. He took me out for ice cream on the day of the results. Then time and distance took over. He moved to another city and for years I had no idea what he was up to. Someone said he was trying modelling and acting in Mumbai. Then mom told me the news that he has returned to Ahmedabad and was married to her friend's daughter, "Didn't amount to much after all did he.", she opined. She never had a very high opinion of him anyways. Waise now-a-days for all she cares all guys except Rishabh are losers.

Today, as I write this and look back, I realise that some stories are never meant to end, they are just destined to linger, suspended in time bearing a question, what if? Mine and Harsh's was one such story. Till date I don't know what it was he wanted to tell me. But sometimes in nostalgic moments, that question does surfaces on the whirlpool of thoughts, what if?

Pensive Peek

2007-03-06T14:33:00.000+05:30

If you read Harry Potter you know the meaning of Pensieve. Its the magical claudron in which Professor Dumbledore stores his memories. Non Harry Potter readers, consider it a peek into one of my pensive moods where memories roam unchartered and unchained.

This particular memory floated to the surface of my mind suddenly, a pleasant memory of that time of adolesence where the smallest of things seem epoch-making, when even an iota of attention from the other gender is made into a huge deal by giggling friends and when Shahrukh's poster on the wall gets a life of its own giving you the dimpled smile as you profusely believe and declare that what you feel for the peice of chart paper is actually love.

Yes... I did go through that phase, though I sometimes feel it was all a split-second dream. Anyway coming to the point, during a chat with my mother recently, she mentioned a name which brought this memory forth. The name belonged to a guy who is now married to mom's friends's daughter. Small world nahi but then Ahmedabad is a small city so this shouldn't really be a surprise.

It was the 10th standard exams. Board exams, made into a huge deal by teachers and parents alike. I had chosen the science stream due to an obstinate anger towards the subject of mathematics. I did not want to be a doctor or an engineer, my goal in taking 10th science was to once and for all show to myself and the world (as if it cared) that I could do maths. So after gruelling studies of the abstarct alphabets and arbit shapes, it was time for the exams. No other subject scared me as much as maths. Mom had given me the confidence and I had a good teacher both in school and tuitions but the fear remained.

The day of the maths paper dawned and papa dropped me to the exam center. Now, to give away the worst kept secret, in the school in which I was giving my exams copying was rampant. The understaffed education board could not fulfill the requirement of two observers per class, in some cases, rumours go that teachers would themselves come and write the solutions on the black board. Though I wasn't fortunate enough to have the teacher solving my paper, copying was still easy and common.

My neighbour was a light-eyed and fair complexioned boy named Harsh from St. Xaviers, he was cute and I had a tough time concentrating on my paper but had managed in the first two and had to in Maths as I had no patience to go through the damn subject all over again by failing. The guy in front of me was tall and very handsome. Even sitting he dwarfed me, his name was Shaun also from St. Xaviers. Next to him was a girl, Nili from Mt. Carmel, a sharp-featured, dark, Keralite. We had all become friends and discussed the papers before, during and after the exams.

Harsh was brilliant or so Shaun had told me and was obvious because his papers were amazingly neat and he asked for extra supplementaries in bulk. He hardly ever raised his head except to listen to our request for help or to place his answer sheets in a position that we could see them. Nili, Shaun and I were more or less in the same IQ band and were progressing through the exam echoing the song, "Saathi haath badhana."

The morning of the maths paper, Shaun was shivering with fear and nervousness, Nili's face had a stirken expression and she kept on twisting her fingers. I was furiously reading the stupid theorem written by someone who had too much free time on his hands. Harsh was the only one discussing with like-brained friends of his, the next day's paper.

The bell sounded and we reached our classes. I was feeling cold and my tummy was making noises like the Panvel local makes on the Mankurd bridge.

"Nervous." Harsh asked with a smile.
"Half-dead because of it." I replied truthfully.
"Don't worry. Let me know if there is a problem." He said.
"The whole damn thing is going to be full of problems." Shaun spoke in his husky voice and Nili giggled nervously at his pun but abruptly shut up as an observer entered the class.

My heart skipped several beats. The observer was a short, stocky man, dark as coal with bushy eyebrows and a broad forehead with such deep wrinkles that one would think that he was born with them. His voice was but a growl and he glared menacingly at the class.

"Safdar sir." a whisper reached me. "He is very strict. I don't think we can copy today."
"I am dead." I heard Shaun say. For once I was happy he was tall, his broad back covered most of my frame but the happiness was not going to last long.
"You." Safdar sir pointed to Shaun, move back. I can't see anyone behind you. "You girl. Shift to his seat." In quick strides he was standing next to me and I had to shift to Shaun's seat.

Harsh gave me a reassuring smile as I gathered my things and moved to Shaun's seat. Nili reached out a squeezed my hand.
"Saath mein jeena, saath mein marna." She whispered.

The bell rang and the observer distributed the papers. Black letters, meaning nothing swam across my eyes. I had no idea what the hell it was. Nothing made sense and I felt tears stinging my eyes. We heard a sniffle across the room, someone had broken down into tears. Looking back I feel the pressure was too much at that age. We didn't really deserve it.

"Do the arithmatic first." I faintly recalled my teacher's voice and I turned the page for the arithmatic section. Slowly, sense and sanity returned and I got busy. Supervisors came and went and after probably half an hour I noticed a lady enter the room. She was short and frail with a gait so slow, it seemed someone was pushing her at every step. As my eyes concentrated on her, I realised she was heavily pregnant. Nili and I exchanged glances both thought and hoped for the same thing. Nili quickly prayed crossing herself and God answered her request.

Safdar sir handed the supplementary papers to her and wordlessly walked out of the room. The lady adjusted herself on one of the empty benches and started pressing her ankles. The class relaxed, chairs squeaked and murmurs rose. It was time to get cracking on the paper.

"You ok?" Harsh asked me.
"Yup, just finishing arith." I replied.
"Gimme question 6." Shaun whispered, I shifted the paper a bit to the right and Shaun started copying.

Once I had got into momentum, things were much better. Confidence had returned. The teacher's instructions had been perfect. Finish arith, then geometry, tackle algebra in the end. Leave questions which you don't know, don't waste time on them. Things were progressing well, behind me Shaun was busy copying from Harsh and me. Nili was fine too and Harsh, well he had totally cracked it. The observer was too busy massaging her feet to bother about any of us. All around us students were busy helping each other. I am sure if an analysis is made of the entire class now, all papers would be identical.

The bell rang at half-time and I was on schedule. I started algebra with a little more than an hour to spare. Shaun touched my shoulder,

"Forgot the scale." he said.
"How are you doing?" I asked giving him the scale.
"Horrible. Harsh is not showing me enough." He cribbed.
"I have to finish mine too na." Harsh whispered.
"Harsh, algebra is bad. Don't know what to do with the 4th." I whispered.
"Its simple. They have combined two questions." He went on to explain as quickly as possible, I understood immediately and started writing furiously.
"Priya, if you don't help me I will fail." Shaun's voice had an edge.
"Which questions do you want?" I asked.
"All except 6th, 7th and 8th." he said.
"Ok." I slipped the paper to the side again.

Nili also started copying the questions she didn't know from me. At the 30 minute to end bell, I was behind schedule, it was difficult to write with half the paper towards the right and Shaun prodding me to move it further or write bigger. Three algebra questions were left. I could feel sweat forming on my forehead. One of those questions, I intended to leave so two were left. I had struggled with one of them for long. Harsh had already finished and was checking his paper.

I was on the edge of panic. Thoughts of failing the sickening subject were invading my mind. Concentration was fading and confidence ebbing away. I took a deep breath and checked my watch just 20 minutes left.

"Priya, you are missing one step." Harsh hissed from behind. "Here lean back a bit and see mine."
"Oh." One glance told me where I was going wrong and I scribbled furiously.

One to go and the 10 minute bell rang. My hand was aching, I was making mistakes, 'a' looked like 9 and 'b' looked like 6. Shaun had already reached where I was. Without waiting for me to finish the last question, he started copying from Harsh and murmuring the solution. He practically dictated the solution to Nili and me.

Almost at the last step, 3 minutes left ...

(to be continued)

Hitched ...

2007-01-24T12:54:00.000+05:30

If there is anything that induces infernal boredom in my mind it is attending weddings in the family. They said that I would change my opinion the day I got married but no, I still find weddings boring and I just attended the most boring one... mine. Yup got married last week. Just managed to get married somehow.

Families were not agreeing on various things. My father with his head held high went and told the in-laws to go take a walk when they mentioned a baraat of 1000 people. Let me explain how things work in gujjus, especially nagars. Weddings are simple and there is no absolutely no question of dowry. In fact its the guy's side who gives the girl gifts which can also be done with by giving a rupee coin and a coconut. Rupyo ne nariyel it is called. But off late as per the current trends of show off and competition of fancy weddings, grandeur is more important than traditions.

In all this nobody really considers the feelings of those who are getting married. My sister gave me worldly advice,

"Shut up and do as elders tell you to. Nobody is asking for your opinion." she told me when I argued that we need not give sarees to all the women in R's family.
"But its my wedding. I get to decide who gets what." I argued back.
"No you don't. Stop being so ... so ... dominating. You have always been like this. So know-it-all ..." she shouted.
"Arre, but ..." I was about to yell back when I saw my mother's terrified face. After 29 years of having two daughters I don't think she could take more of this, so I shut up. But only for a while.

Finally, I drilled some sense into my father. He was worried. The costs going into lakhs even if we did it simply. R's parents insisting on a big wedding and lots of guests whom we were supposed to feed.

"Papa, if they act up, tell them I don't want to marry their son." I said with a straight face. I had also told R in clear words the very same thing.
"I won't say any such thing." Papa said.
"You will say it but nicely. They have no right to exploit my family just because they are the boy's parents." I was getting into my gender banter mode.

Anyway though Papa had not accepted my suggestion then, something R's father said pissed him off. He has not yet told me what that was but he cliched the deal at 400 guests. So we would pay for our guests + 400 of theirs and if they had more, they would pay for it. It was almost like a business negotiation. I would have loved to be the fly on the wall when my parents were doing the dealing. So all was finalised, the marraige hall deposit paid, menus decided, gifts selected, cards printed, the works.

Though I was fretting over the expenses, by current standards of weddings, mine would have been way way simple. No band baja, no ghodi, no doli, no crackers, no fancy garba function, no separate reception and just one meal for the guests. My sister's was fancier actually but then she wanted it that way. Here I was counting ever rupee spent on the gifts, being mean and miserly and saying no to every suggestion that Mom made for gifts.

"Let me give you a kitchen set?"
"No."
"A wardrobe?"
"No."
"Jewellery?"
"No."
"Food processor?"
"Who will use it? R?"
"A honeymoon package?"
"No, no leaves left."
"Then what do you want?"
"Your books."
"No, I won't give that."
"Then let it be."

R was fighting his own battles. His family forcing him to force me to force my parents to have a separate pre-wedding functions. Constantly comparing his wedding with his brother's and making it clear that his was going to be much simpler and it wasn't acceptable. He thankfully and admirably stuck to his guns. By 9th, I was really having second thoughts and didn't want to go through all this. On 10th, God gave me an escape route. A sad situation as such but provided me a chance to get out of a wedding function which was becoming exceedingly horrendously garish for my standards.

R's relative had a sudden kidney failure. He was serious. He was very close to the family almost like his grandfather. R's father came home to talk to Papa. He was apologetic, we need to postpone. The astrologer was summoned for advice. Mom subtly suggested to him in private on my prodding, an additional dakshina if he adviced against postponing. Some money had been spent but the 400 guests could still be avoided, I had also asked most shopkeepers to accept our purchases back if required. The astrologer saved the day, no other date is anukool for the couple. They have to be married on January 16th.

So we did it. As simply as I had always wanted it. Without a crowed of useless strangers who just came for the food. Without the exmaining eyes of the aunties who would later comment on what was wrong with my make-up, jewellery, hairstyle etc. Without a throng of people passing in front of my eyes like a boring C grade film in which one scene had no connection with other. Without having to say hello or bow in respect to every creepy uncle and ugly aunty as if I loved them with all my heart simply because they were acquainted with R. Without the humiliating irritation of standing on a stage and being the subject of everyone's attention not because of me being me but because of me being married.

But even without all that it was boring. The ceremony went on and on. Most of the time I had to be attentive to what the priest was saying, "Take the water in the left hand, pour it down, the the rice, put it in the fire, place your hand on the groom's hand, remove it, feed him the sweet with your right hand, change seats come to the left, walk around the fire, change sequence, you come first now ..." Never have I taken so many orders. Sometimes it was hard to keep up, at times I was not sure whom he was adressing R or me. The only time I realised that all was over when the sindoor business happened. Some of it fell in my eye and it burnt like hell.

So now I am married. What's the difference? nothing really. Am back to work, no honeymoon because we just holidayed last month. Interesting vidaii though. Inspite of the practiced approach of pragmatism, I cried. Mom stood next to me and told my maasi. "Chalo, I win, give me my 500 bucks." They had actually bet on my crying and even if they hadn't the remark was enough to make me laugh.

Sham-e-avadh continued ...

2007-01-04T17:54:00.000+05:30

At a distance I could a hear a train hoot and hoped it was ours.

It wasn't. The train that pulled itself, groaning like a tired monster came to a hesitant stop on the opposite platform. It was a goods train. R commented on how much revenue we might be loosing if these trains missed deadlines and production was stalled, but I guess like everyone else even the industries consider delay as a given and work around it.

As we watched the goods train hoot and restart, chugging away R said,

"I feel like jumping on one of these wagons and going away. I feel a desperate need to get off this station, I don't care where, I just want to get out from here."
"True, thats what I feel too." I agreed. Since our train was not coming even I felt like getting on anything that moved on tracks then and there.

Both of us fell silent again, just then the coolie or whatever he was who had met us earlier strolled onto the platform with another of his co-workers and parked himself behind us. They were chatting about various trains, from the snatches of conversations I heard, their job was to jump onto running trains as they entered the station and make space to sit for people who boarded later with their baggage. Once the person who hired them boarded, they would vacate the seat, take their money and jump off the train to wait for another one. They had very systematic pricing system with different prices for a seat, a sleeper, a day train and a night one.

Entreprising and not really illegal. No law in earth can bar all of the money-making tactics that people get into in India. As I was listening to them, R cursed,

"Shit, even this train is going to be late." There had been no announcement but the train was due by 4:00 and it was already 4:15.
"Say that if it does not come by 4:30, aadhe ghante ka delay, delay thodi na hota hai. Aadha ghanta, idhar ya udhar toh chalta hai na." I replied sarcastically.

We watched in despair at the clock's big needle making its way towards the huge 6 on the clock, there was still no sign of the train. Next to us the Rail aahaar shop was opening up. A newspaper vendor came and dumped a bundle of papers on the ground. For some people in the world, the day had started but we were the ones in the wierdest position because for us even night had not yet fallen.

R almost jumped with joy when the floodlight of an oncoming trains illuminated the tracks. We watched the silvery streaks till they were devoured by a red engine, the board on the train said, Ranakpur Express. It wasn't the one we were to take but at the next instant the automated voice boomed on teh microphone, our train was coming on the next platform, thankfully we didn't have to climb stairs to get there, we got up and waited on the other side. The coolie/ agent/ whatever came behind us,

"Kya, sleeper chahiye?" he said.
"Kitna bola tha?" R asked.
"Dedh sau. TT se baat karu? kuchh nahi toh zameen pe toh dila hi doonga." his confidence was admirable.
"Zameen pe!!!" I could not help but exclaim.
"Haan toh, abhi thodi na sleeper milegi, waise bhi train late hai, kya ... chahiye?" He asked again.
"Nahi, chalo lets go into general dabba." I told R and started walking ahead towards the end of the train.

It was still moving and when it stopped the door to the general dabba opened to reveal a rush of people getting off. We got in and I immediately stumbled over a figure squatting on the floor, another step and I stepped over someone's toes. An angry voice groaned from between the jumble of limbs. We could not go further, the entire floor was blocked by sleeping people, R didn't bother to be careful, he pushed and shoved himself inside, took the bags, flung them under the lower berth and with one jump got onto the berth above. He parked himself on the edge, resting his feet on the opposite berth. The man sleepign on that berth moved aside a bit and R was as comfortable as he could be.

I on the other hand could not figure out what to do. A man was lying on the lower berth, he got up seeing me standing and said,

"Aap baith jao. Koi problem nahi." he said.
"Thanks." I said.

A few people shuffled around and made place for me inspite of black looks of irritation on being woken up from the weak slumber that they had managed to get after long journey upright from Bhavnagar. My position was uncomfortable but at least I was sitting. The train started to move and I mumbled a small prayer of gratitude.

The next station would be Surat. I woke from uncomfortable naps periodically either because my neck would jerk back and a momentary pain would shoot through the upper back or someone lying on the floor would change positions hitting my leg. Every time I woke up, I would strive to stay awake but exhaustion would overtake and I would unconciously sink into slumber.

It was at Surat that a family got up, I flung a bag from under the berth and put it on the berth above me. R shifted from his position to that berth, though he was sharing it with another man, the space he got was enough to let him lie down. I still sat in my uncomfortable position. He needed to sleep for his court appearance more than I did. At Valsad some more people left, including the man sitting with R, with uncanny speed, I climbed up and woke R up.

"My turn to sleep." I said. R sat upright and I lay down on the planks.

Below, people were waking up, brushing teeth noisily and having chai-nashta, I realised with a start that we did not even had any water to drink. In all this mess we had forgotted to buy a bisleri from the station. Before I could tell R to get water, the train started.

It sped along much faster than before between the stretch from Valsad to Dahanu Road, just as sweet sleep was about to blanket me, raised voices yanked me away from her folds. The TC had found some students who got on the Super Fast with a passenger pass. They bickered about the fine. R was awake now.

"Try to sleep." He said, smiling. He seemed quite fresh. I lay back and the next I remember was a nudge and R's voice, "Borivali's coming."

Thankfully the train stops at Andheri so we got off, caught an auto, reached home, showered, had strong black coffee and went to our respective offices. Neither of us discussed the events of the previous night. It was just too painful. That night I reached home from office at 8:30 p.m., had milk and slept by 9:00 p.m. under warm blankets, only to get up at 8:00 a.m. the next morning.

The nightmarish night is still fresh in my mind but I thank my stars that it was in Baroda that this had happened because firstly it was just 6 hours from Mumbai and secondly it was home territory. A few good things did happen though from this entire episode,

1. R and I now know that we work well together even in stress and tension.
2. I have learnt my lesson, never trust the Railways inspite of the fresh coating it has got under LPY, its still the same, inefficient and untrustworthy.
3. Its true what Gandhiji said, "If you want to see the real India, travel by the general dabba."

Sham-e-avadh

2007-01-03T18:12:00.000+05:30

This post is the namesake of a beautiful post on an evening in Lucknow written some time back by one of our old time bloggers Manish Chauhan. Sadly there is nothing in common between Manishbhai's post and this one except the name and even in the name the first word is to be read in English instead of urdu. Actually this post is about a journey, a safar which made us suffer. Sorry, that was a pj but the best way to describe what happened. Anyway you can decide for yourself after you read this post.

R and I had to attend a wedding over the weekend. It wasn't that close a relation but it was on the in-laws side and since R's parents are in the US the job of representing the family landed on us. It wasn't such a bad deal, I hadn't visited Baroda for some time and I have lots of people there who wanted to see R and vica versa so we decided to do the mutual displaying on both sides in the two days that we were there. I was staying with my bua and he was at his kaka's house.

The trip went off well, the evening, i.e. the 1st of Jan when we were to leave we got the news that our train was 3 hours late. It was to leave at 9:15 p.m. but would reach Baroda at 12:00 a.m. So be it I said, actually it was better that way as we did not have to rush back, change and run to the station immediately and could take our time with the idle plesantaries and fake display of affection with everyone there.

So we stayed at the wedding till my face ached of the artificial smile and by 10:00 p.m. returned to R's kaka's place, I had already collected my bag from bua's house and wished her good-bye. I got rid of the heavy decoration that I had tolerated for 3-4 hours and got ready with our bags packed for the journey. R took a nap while I chatted with R's cousins.

At 11:00 we called the enquiry only to be greeted by further delay, the train would now reach at 3:00 a.m. I woke R up and we decided to anyways go to the station by 12:00 so as not to disturb our hosts. We could wait at the station's waiting room. At Baroda station, the waiting room was neat and had nice cushioned seats, a television played old hindi movie songs, I settled with a book and was comfortable, R as usual went off to sleep.

Suddenly at 2:00 a.m. he woke with a start, I had also dozed off listening to Lataji singing Lag jaa gale. "Whats the matter?" I asked startled.

"I thought they said further delay and something about the train coming at 6:00 a.m." he said, "I could be wrong but let me go check."

It must have been a mistake I though as he had heard it through a slumber. Still I waited wide awake, if the train was delayed further we could be in trouble. Both of us had to go back to work the next day ... I mean that morning that is. It takes six hours in a superfast train to get to Mumbai from Baroda, it would be very late if we left after 3:00 a.m. I hoped that R's ears were playing tricks on him while he was sleeping but sadly, he returned shaking his head,

"Now its coming at 6:00 a.m. What do we do?" he asked.
"I don't think we can wait any further. If we want to reach on time we must leave at least by 4:00 a.m. otherwise, lets just go back." I replied.
"But then how do we get back to Mumbai?" He was really worried. Normally he is not the kind who breaks his head over things but this was bothering him.
"We could go to Ahmedabad in the morning and then take a flight from there. We can reach by mid-morning." I suggested.
"And waste 3k?" he asked, surpised that I was disregarding the monetary implications. "Lets find out if there is any other train going to Mumbai now."

We lugged our luggage and went to the reservation counter where a man, his back to the window was chatting with his colleague.

"Hello ... yeh Avadh kab aayegi?" R asked. No response came from him. "Hello, boss." R repeated. The man continued to ignore him. I moved R aside and decided to use the age old trick, ladies charm.
"Excuse me, sir... can you help me?" I said.
"Yes madam." the reply was immediate, he had turned so sharply towards the window that his hand hit his PC's monitor.
"Yeh Avadh ko kya hua?" I asked.
"Delay hai madam." he said.
"Woh toh pata hai par, what if it doesn't come at six also?" I asked.
"Its possible. We can't say anything till it reaches Ratlam." he leaned close towards the window, I stepped back and R thrust his face inside.
"Is there any other train to Mumbai now?" R asked.
"Abhi Jaipur-Bandra gayi, ab toh Borivali passenger hai aur Rajdhani." he said as if expecting us to bow down in gratefulness at his words of enlightenment.
"Will there be anything in Rajdhani for two people?" R asked.
He didn't even bother to reply, just shook his head and started fiddling with a register on his desk.

R was quite peeved but didn't budge, he repeated the question a couple of times before the man snapped back saying that Rajdhani was packed and only the TC on it would be able to help. By that time I had gone to the information desk and checked for other trains. There was Borivali passenger which reached Mumbai at 4:00 p.m. next day. Then Ranakpur Express at 3:50 a.m. and Bhavnagar-Bandra at 4:00 a.m. which would reach at about 11:00 a.m. That man was more respectful.

"All trains are running late, there is a problem with the signalling system, things are quite haywire tonight." he informed.
"So how do I get to Mumbai now?" I asked.
"Your best bet is Bhavnagar-Bandra at 4:00"

R had joined me at the desk. He was really worried now. He had a court appearance at 1:00 p.m. He had to be there by then. I sensed that he was getting hyper.

"Lets go back to the waiting room and decide." I told him.
"But what is to decide?" he snapped rudely.
"Arre, why are you getting irritated, we need to keep cool and decide what to do na?" I told him.
"This is so **$%#@&^ pathetic." he almost yelled, "if I don't reach by lunch, they will fire me."
"I know but I would prefer if we had this discussion inside the waiting room, at least it is more comfortable than standing in this chill with bags in hand. Right.?" I started walking towards the platform without waiting for his reply.
"Wait, we should by two general tickets to Mumbai so that we don't have to see the face of that @$^**#$ again." he had started thinking straight.
"Ok." I said.

He bought the tickets and once again requested the guy if there was anyway we could get us a seat in Rajdhani. The guy was rude again, R let it be and we walked towards the waiting room. A man strolled towards us, he looked like a coolie from his clothes but there was something different about him. He started walking besides R and asked.

"Kya ho gaya? Avadh ka problem?" he asked.
"Haan, chhe baje bol rahe hai? aayegi kya?" R asked back.
"Kya maloom, kuchh nahi bol sakte, hamesha late aati hai par itna late rare hai." he said making my suspicion that he is not a coolie certain and somehow I got really bad vibes from him.
"Agar confirmed ticket hai toh Bhavnagar-Bandra ki sleeper kara sakta hoon. dedh sau per seat." he offered with a blank expression.
"Dekhte hai. Kidhar aayegi train?" R asked.
"Do ya teen pe." the guy said, "char baje tak aayegi, paune char pe udhar rahoonga, aapko dila doonga sone ka toh mil jaayega." he said and drifted away somewhere behind us.

Once inside the waiting room we examined various options, outside I could hear announcements of various delays. It was 2:30 a.m. Most trains were late including the Rajdhani which was now an hour late and would reach only by 4:30 a.m. Poeple around us started to settle for whatever remained of the night. A lady brought two chairs together and prepared a bed for her child. Another man took out a shawl from his bag and prepared for sleep. The man in-charge of the room lowered the volume of the television.

We had bought the ticket on the website, it was a 3AC confirmed ticket, if we took another train, we would loose the money on this one but we did not seem to have a choice. Getting to Mumbai by lunch was crucial. Now that Rajdhani was delayed we had to take the first available train. R kept fidgeting, he went out once to inquire about cancellation. He was in a horrid temper when he returned.

"Saale sab ke sab kaamchor hai, tell me how much would it cost to give all train drivers a cell phone, at least we could get real time information and not have to dangle in this uncertainty?" He commented.
"There is nothing we can do. Absolutely nothing. Except take the next available train and travel by general dabba." I said.
"That's the problem, we accept the goofups by the public utilities way too many times." R's temper was still bad.

We tried to chat about cheerful things but both were tense and irritated. By 3:30 a.m. we got so impatient that we left the comfortable waiting room and went to the 2nd platform to sit on uncomfortable metal chairs in the winter chill. Our train was at 4:00 a.m. There were just a handful of people in the station. A family was waiting on the opposite platform for a train to Ahmedabad. A man who had like us decided to take the same train as ours sat on the seat ahead reading a book. The rail ahaar shops on the platform we shut with the exception of one up ahead. Time and again chilly breeze wafted bringing with it a shiver and a forced attempt to cover as much as possible of the body with the light shawl that I had. Right above us a tubelight blinked repeatedly, its corners black with grease and over use.

There was a clock next to us, ticking away slower than usual it seemed, as we waited for the train. For the first time in my life I could not look at the positives in the situation, maybe there was one, at least in all this I was not alone. R was with me. At a distance I could a hear a train hoot and hoped it was ours.

To be continued ...

Last Day

2006-12-26T18:14:00.000+05:30

Good times speed away. The day of departing had come. We had to go back by ferry to Singapore, from the ferry terminal we had to go to the airport. Sadly we got a seat in the morning ferry due to which we would reach way earlier than we needed to. Our flight was at 7:20 p.m. but due to this ferry gadbad we reached Changi Airport at around 1:00 p.m. Except for the queasiness in the ferry due to a very choppy sea everything had gone perfectly. We even had a taxi with a grinning Rangacharian waiting for us.

At the airport, we checked in by 2:00 p.m. The breakfast had been heavy so neither of us wanted to eat lunch. People had told me that there was so much to see at the airport that we would not feel bored inspite of having 5 hours to spend before the flight. We checked in the baggage and were waiting in the immigration line when someone called out,

"Arre Rishabh? Kya baat hai. Yahan bhi?" It was V and S behind him with the trolley full of hand baggages from the shopping they had done.
"Ab toh seriously kuchh pichhale janam types hai, nahi?" R commented smiling.

Both S and I started to apologise together about missing each other that night. They had also waited for us but somehow in the crowd we could not meet each other. They were boarding a flight to Lankawi, Malaysia for the second phase of their honeymoon, they were going to be out for another week. We chatted on till their flight was called and saw them off. S said she felt good at having someone to see them off in a foreign country.

Changi Airport really is an interesting place. The duty-free shopping was quite amazing. Comparitively cheap jewellery, booze, chocolates, electronics etc. etc. We bought a few things that had been asked for by friends, like tiger balm. I spotted a movie theatre and headed for it. It was not really a movie theatre but was a small nook with about 30 seats and a home theatre screen playing Star movies. I sat watching the first Pierce Brosnan 007 movie. R went roaming.

He suddenly came back excited. He had found an orchid garden and pulled me away from a very interesting scene of the movie. By 5:00 we had seen almost the whole of the terminal and I was tired of walking so decided to rest my feet when I suddenly saw a few people gathered around, as if waiting for something. Now this was the first time I had seen people waiting in Singapore so I went near and to my amazement, there stood foot massager machines where people were relaxing their tired feet.

"Walk and walk around our airport and if you get tired there's the foot massager. God, they think of everything." R remarked and perched himself on one of the machines. I sat opposite on a chair reading, after a while I also sat on it and felt the muscles relax. It was really good. R wanted to buy one for home.

Time went by as it always does, relatively slowly but a bit of this and a little of that later, our flight was called and we took our boarding passes. R was looking at his passport with pride.

"Finally its filled with stamps, I am so pleased." he said. "Cheap thrills nahi?"

The flight was delayed by about half an hour, at Mumbai airport we jerked back to our reality as there was a mile long line for baggage which took almost half an hour to come. A harsh customs officer mistook someone else's bag as mine and asked me to step aside rudely to which I snapped back saying he got it wrong, how quickly we get into our elements na? We walked for about 15 minutes without a clue as to how to get an auto and finally getting one, argued with the autowala not to charge higher, "Hum idhar ke hi hai, thik se bolo." Then bumped our way home, watching the regular sights of Mumbai's garbage and slums. As I dropped R off he said,

"Its good to be home, in this noise and pollution. I wouldn't trade this for a 1000 Singapores."
"I agree. India is home." I smiled back.

I stepped into my apartment at 11:30 p.m. and said, "Haaaasssh." (A typical gujju expression of relaxation and peace.) and realised I not said this anywhere else but here. Home is where Haaassssh is.

Day - 7 and 8

2006-12-22T18:16:00.000+05:30

I am not hurrying it up but this is how it actually happened, the last lap of our journey was meant for doing nothing. Lazing around in the sun on the beach was the plan so it isn't very eventful.

On Day 7 of the holiday the third lap of our journey had started. We were to go reach at 10:00 a.m. at the Tanah Merah Ferry Terminal from where we would get a ferry to Bintan Islands, Indonesia. By now we were experts on Singapore public transport so we took a taxi from the hotel, one trip on foot with baggage was enough for us and from there took a train to the nearest station. Passenger service at the station gave us the bus number for the terminal.

The bus was on time to the second and we reached the Ferry Terminal where a lady from our tourist company was waiting for us. After checking in and immigration, we got into the ferry. Now for me the word ferry brings an image of a motorboat with horizontal wooden planks for seats, peeling paint on the sides and a smell of wet, rotten wood which we normally board from the Gateway of India but here as I stepped into the ferry I was stunned, the inside looked no less than an airplane. It was airconditioned obviously, also had a T.V, a snack bar and toilets.

The ride to Indonesia was uneventful except for R feeling a little queasy due to the motion of the boat. He normally has this problem in closed vehicles and uneven motion. I had kept cloves which helped him feel better. At Bintan Islands the immigration and check-in were quick but it took time for the baggage to arrive.

A shuttle bus dropped us to our resort and we gasped in amazement at the beauty of the sea in front of us. It was of a deep blue colour with white sands and waves lolling slowly. It was mid-day but R went in for a swim before lunch. After that was a series of swim, eat, sleep, swim, eat, read, laze around, sleep, eat, walk around, swim ...

Thats how the two days passed. Interestingly Indian holiday makers have not yet discovered Bintan and so we did not meet any Indians except for a small family of parents and daughter who had come from Singapore but were originally from Mumbai. While R was not in the mood for trekking I did a bit of it walking on the beach from one end to the another, through the water in some places, on rocks in another.

One highlight of our stay in Bintan was the high tide at mid-day on the second day. The waves were more than a meter high and though I know swimming the sight of a wave coming at you, un stoppable by any force on earth, swelling each second, bigger and bigger till it towers over you and breaks on the beach with white, salty foam is mesmerising. I was scared, every time the wave broke over me, knocking my breath away and submerged me into the sea I would swear to walk back to the beach but then the next wave would entice me and I would stay, challenging it to engulf me into its enormity. The sea gave me a good bashing but I don't think I have had such fun anywhere before. I also realised the bond a surfer has with the waves, it inexplicable but real.

So, basically we chilled out the last two days of the holiday. Swimming in the sea to the heart's fill and hogging away to glory. It was with a lot of sadness that I said good-bye to the sun because the next time I saw a sunset it would be from my apartment in Mumbai.

Day - 6

2006-12-20T18:43:00.000+05:30

Not even a speck of sunlight could come in through the thick curtains of the room and the air conditioning had maintained the same temperature so I was not concious of the time. For the first time in this trip R was up before me. He was all charged up for the day. I wasn't even fully awake when he told me he had planned the day in such a way that we would get to see the sights, have lunch with his colleague and go to Sentosa island.

So we set off on foot again after a breakfast that could last for three meals, through the maze of malls and escalators towards Suntech City Mall where the Singapore Tourist Hub was located. If you have seen Krishh you will recognise this place from the fountain which was featured as Krishh jumped/ flew in search of his father. Its the largest fountain in the world and is shaped in a way that water flows in instead of spouting out which according to Feng shui conveys that money should always flow in. It is constructed in the middle of the five Suntech City Mall towers which interestingly form the shape of a person's left hand. The left hand again signifying money coming in as the Chinese believe that in business you give with the right and take with the left hand.

All this we found out on our first tour called the Duck Tour. This was basically a tour in a vehicle which could move both on land and water, an amphibian. It took us through the Civic District, the Business District, the Shopping District and the Marina Bay. Its quite interesting to be in a country of one city. They do not use the word city at all, they just call everything country because the city is the country. Its size is just 42 kms, thats just the distance between Churchgate to Bandra and back and thats not even 1/3rd of Mumbai.

After the Duck tour we were to go to R's office for lunch with his colleagues. Again we decided to walk but realised that it would be too long. At the tourist hub they told us about a free shuttle which took us from Suntech City mall to the Metro station of Raffles City which was the nearest to the business district. The free shuttle was also air conditioned and R shook his head in frustration.

We reached his office, it was on the 10th floor of a business centre and had a view of the Marina Bay as far as the islands of Malaysia and Indonesia. Lunch was great at an Indian restaurant. Somehow I was craving Bhaji Pau and realised that could be great business here as there were not many Indian food restaurants.

It was close to 4:00, we had to board the bus for Sentosa at 6:00 so we took a city bus to Suntech City Mall and relaxed in a cafe for sometime. I was too tired to walk so R strolled around the mall looking at the brands and returned with a bag of chocolates. As I reached out to take one he pulled it away. "These are gifts. You have your chocolate sundae na." So then I had my second chocolate sundae. R had also tried to call V and S but the hotel said they had left in the morning and not returned.

At six sharp, the tour bus came and we set off for Sentosa. Now the best thing about these conducted tours are the guides. They are very entertaining and it takes a lot of spirit to repeat the same thing day in and day out without getting bored or boring the listeners. The tour guide Yan was the best of all we had met. She knew a lot about Singapore. As a passing remark she mentioned her age at 37 and R looked at me with surprise, she hardly looked beyond 20.

The ride till Sentosa took us through the port of Singapore, Yan talked about the history of the country, the story behind its discovery and its name, the current governance, the demography, technological advances, economy and what not, she knew a lot. I was really impressed.

At Sentosa, the main attraction was the musical fountain show. Yan told us to meet us at the entrance of the amphitheatre after the show ended and as we walked the amphitheatre looking for seats, who do we see, V and S sitting hand in hand sipping coke and snacking on Lays.

"Kuch toh connection hai apna." V said when he saw us. We talked of what we had done that day and our plans for the next day. The fountain show was incredible. They had used laser lights reflecting on water to form animated figures of animals and aquatic creatures. It was mainly for childern but even the adults sat in wonderous awe at the technology used. We went back to Yan after fixing with V and s to meet them at Orchard Road later in the night.

From Sentosa we rode back to Singapore, our next stop was Bugis Village street market. The moment I stepped out of the bus I wished I had seen it before. Right in front of me stood spread on sidewalks and spilling on the road, shops and stalls of all kind of food, clothes, electronics, watches, footwear and what not sparkling with halogen lights and tingling with human voices of emotions, a laugh here a shout there and the best part about it which R pointed out, no air conditioning. Thank God, they were after all humans or maybe they were allowed to be humans in this little area of Bugis village street market.

"Feels like home." I remarked to Yan.
"Why?" she asked.
"My entire country is like this, noisy, crowded and hot but undoubtedly alive. Every corner throbs with life in every possible form." I said.
"I would love to visit your country." she remarked, not with the tone of fake formality but with sincerity.
"Do come but be prepared for the shock of your life. It sure is different from yours." I replied.

We boarded the bus from Bugis to our next stop, Orchard Road where we were going to get off and meet up with V and S. We were to meet them at the Mariott Hotel. Actually both of us were very tired and I was longing to go back to the suite so was kind of half hoping that they wouldn't turn up. We waited for them for almost half an hour, looked up and down the building but couldn't find them so we took the next city bus available. We were the only people on the bus, as it ran down the road, I looked out of the glass window and saw S, her red kurti standing out in the crowd, R saw them too but it was not possible to stop the bus or call out at them so we just let it be.

Back at the hotel I was feeling much better after a shower and we were discussing our observations on Singapore. Yan had given us the people's perspective of the country. I couldn't help wondering how they managed to convey the discipline and the rules to the people and how they were convinced to abide by them. The population was 4.4 million, much less that even Mumbai's but still quite a bit for the space they covered. R came up with his point which made the most sense.

"Its all a little too good to be true. I swear to you, these people would also love to spit in the street and pee on walls if they were allowed to. Living in India we are free to have as many definitions as of freedom as the number of people, but here this definition is stated and made unargueable due to the penalties. It is forced and there comes a point in time when people begin to see the good of it too and then do not want to consider any other definition of freedom because theirs give them comfort and a good life. Its not such a bad deal you know."

He maybe right, it may not be such a bad deal but understanding that littering is bad for the country on your own is more valuable than the understanding being imposed on you I think. I slept that night with a vision of trying to impose and penalise each and every pan spitting and wall peeing male in India. A humungous task like that would take lifetimes. Nahi.

Day - 5

2006-12-19T12:30:00.000+05:30

The last day of the cruise seemed a bit gloomy from the start inspite of clear skies. I don't think either of us wanted to leave the ship but then we couldn't possibly stay on as stowaways. Another option was to take up a job in the ship itself which wasn't as attractive because then we would have to work and would not be able to lounge around which was precisely why we wanted to stay on.

R had decided to reserve the day for eating and sleeping mainly because there was nothing else to do. The ship was to reach Singapore harbour at five in the evening, we had the entire day to ourselves so he did what he had decided to and I went around exporing once again the gigantic machine.

One thing I forgot to mention was that every evening the cabin service would drop in a pamphlet which would mention the activities of the day. They had separate activities for the childern too. We used to plan our evening based on the pamphlet. That day's activity included a musical called "Beyond Broadway" which was the reproduced excerpts of the various Broadway hits. I coerced R to come with me to watch it that morning.

The ships auditorium was called The Lido and it had a topless show every night which cost money so obviously we didn't watch it but in addition to that they also had free shows like "Beyond Broadway". The auditorium took my breath away, it was decorated entirely in deep red and had gallery seating which gave an excellent view of the stage without the discomfort of the disturbence of people moving in and out.

The show was amazing, the actors were fantastic and though R did not know much about Broadway, even he was captivated by the music, lights and energy of the performers. They showed excerpts from Cats, The Phantom of the Opera, Westside story, The King and I, Chicago, Grease etc. After it ended the actors were introduced.

One by one they walked in with their costumes on and bowed to the applauding audience. The anchor announced their names and countries and spoke a bit to each of them. It seemed rehearsed with rattofied punchlines and jokes but was delivered well enough to bring out the laughter. Just after the actors of the King and I were introduced, walked in the subject of our bet in a yellow leotard of the Cats. R tapped my hand,

"Wohi hai na?"
"Yup. listen."

I could see my chocolate sundae melt in front of my eyes when the anchor announced.

"And this is Ruby N. You would have seen Ruby N in the Karoke pub as well crooning the latest hits."
"Dekha, ladki hai." R whispered, "Maine kaha tha."
"But ... I could have sworn ..." I stopped in mid-sentence as the anchor continued.
"Ruby N is our own Ms. Thailand, right everyone." The anchor thrust the mike towards the audience who roared in agreement.
"So nice of you to agree, most don't and for good reason." the same shrill voice of the subject of our bet who we now knew as Ruby N spoke.
"Oops ..." R whispered.
"Now you know what make-up, wigs and padded bras can do." the shrill voice had changed into a deeper tone, the auburn curls were replaced with a short black crop and out came cups from the earstwhile curved chest to reveal my chocolate sundae ... i mean ... a guy.
"Yesssssss..." I pumped the air, "Dekha." I said in the same tone as R had spoken a few seconds ago.

I gloated with my Chocolate Sundae, I guarantee you there is no other high than a well deserved choclate sundae on the high seas. Cheap thrills R called it and sulked. That afternoon after a heavy totally unbalanced lunch with desserts weighing the majority I went off to sleep, I don't know what R did but he woke me up with a call in my cabin. He had found V and S again.

At five sharp the Singapore skyline came in view. By six we were ready to disembark at the Harbour Front. We exchanged Hotel names and phone numbers with V and S and took a metro to City Hall station where our hotel for the next two days was located. We asked the passenger service desk at the station, our hotel according to him was walking distance so R lugged on to the bigger suitcase, I took the smaller one and we walked and walked and walked, over escalators, in subways, on overbridges, through miles and miles of malls it seemed, to finally reach the hotel exhausted and furious.

Singapore has as much construction under ground as it has above it. Malls are interconnected with subways and tunnels, at no point in time can you confidently say as to what level you are, whether it is above ground or two levels under ground or the second floor of a building. Everthing is very well labelled though, there are toilets at every corner and directions every two minutes, people are helpful too but that cannot reduce the distance can it. Inspite of being used to walking a lot in Mumbai, R was getting impatient and at one point just exited out of a building in warm evening air.

"This is a city of escalators and air conditioning. Its so sickening." he remarked.

Finally after walking a few blocks on a silent and empty sidwalk we reached our hotel to be greeted by a smiling and stunningly beautiful woman. She gave us the very good news that we had been upgraded from two single rooms to a suite. R grinned and I gulped, "Oh oh."

"Do you have any other room available." R said inspite of his grin.
"No sir, we have a conference going on and there is nothing else available. Is there a problem? Maybe you can first see the suite and then decide?"
"Shu kahe chhe?" R asked. (What do you say?)
"I want to first rest my feet. We will think of what to do afterwards." I said, truely tired and just a little curious to see the inside of a suite.

It was indeed fantastic. Decorated elegantly in shades of brown, it had two rooms and a huge walk in closet. Complimentary chocolates, fruits and coffee stood on the side table. Both, the main room had an eight seater sofa and a large working desk complete with connections for a laptop, fax machine and printer and a huge plasma TV. The second room had two single beds, a music system, a night table and again a TV.

"Now what do you say?" R asked.
"I want to keep it. There are two rooms, it will do." I said.

After dinner, I sat on the carpeted floor of the main room, zipping through the various channels totally clueless of the language but still watching with amazement the similarity between our saas-bahu serials an theirs soaps. Especially the music effects and zooming in on each character separately technique and the reality shows complete with glycerine induced tears competition. HBO was playing Ladder 49 which I zeroed on and watched.

R was already snoring in the inside room full of beer and chicken which he believed to be the reward for being my coolie. I don't remember when I switched off the TV and went to sleep on the floor, the only thing I remember was thinking, "I am sleeping in a hotel suite which is bigger than my house in Mumbai."

Day - 4

2006-12-15T18:33:00.000+05:30

It dawned to rains. Living in Mumbai for three years, I have seen the various possible type of rain. The pleasant drizzle that inspires poetry, the continuous rythmic clatter of fat raindrops or the violent vicious drops that slash the skin and give you reminders of that day in July, all rain for me is mainly good. Monsoon has been and still remains to be even after July 26th, my favourite season but rain in the highseas definately does not stand in my likings list.

My cabin was on the 9th deck, firstly because of the rains the sun had decided to take it easy so I got up late and then as I stepped onto the balcony the wind thrust me back inside and a rush of raindrops startled me. I looked over into the water and I could not see beyond hundred meters. The greenish blue water tumbling and folding over itself looked omnious. The ship was moving slower than yesterday but waves crashed against it and as if in protest let out a roar as the ship mercilessly cut through them. Lightening flashed above and made the eyesight play tricks. All in all it was scary but still resolutely I made my to the 13th deck for the morning walk.

The deck was open to air but because of the rain they had put up roofs over the walking track, another reason for the roofs was to avoid the collection of water. It was difficult to walk because of the wind and I had to grab the hand railing to keep from slipping so after some futile attempts, I stuck to the treadmill.

That morning we were to reach Phuket, Thailand and after a while as if by miracle, the rain stopped. The sun scattered its diamonds once again. R and I downed breakfast quickly and boarded the last ferry for the island. V and S did not turn up at the decided time and brilliant as we are, we did not know their cabin number either so we ended up going alone to Phuket.

It was a little more organised in terms of foreign currency than Malaysia. The ferry in Phuket lands just near the beach so we just had to walk a couple of minutes to reach the beach. For a while we walked and then went for a swim. The water was amazing, just one problem, it was horribly salty. I know that I will be told that sea water is always salty but the degree of salinity here was too high, I had to spit it out so many times.

We spent the entire morning in the sea, took a jet ski ride for an atrociously expensive 1000 bahts, close to 1200 bucks in indian rupees. R forbid me to do the calculation which was good because the jetski ride was amazing. The vehicle is a simple motor with an accelerator, no brakes, clutch or gear just zooms into the sea. We went out far out into the sea and passed our ship which was berthed in the high seas. I was riding pillion and R was driving. It was a real thrill.

After that we relaxed and ate our ghar ka khana, the khakhras, sev and toast that we had taken with us. The beach also had a street shopping mall from which after a lot of deliberation and discussion we bought handful of gifts for family. Both of us dislike shopping so did not spend too much time or money on it.

It was very hot and a lot of people with various skin colours were lounging around the beach in altering degrees of undress. I caught R sneaking a look on sunbathing firang women and took his picture as proof for future reference to his ogling. It was quite amazing how they can shed their clothes in public. I would never be able to attempt something like that even if I had an hour glass figure.

By late afternoon, we were left with only 5 bahts and determined to use them. R said we would not get anything for five bahts but I managed to find a packet of mint chocolates in that amount and we came away from Phuket to the ship with empty pockets.

The ship had organised a Gala cocktail and dinner party which was to be attended by the captain and his crew. It was very interesting to meet the men who held the reins of the mammoth machine. They were mainly Europeans. Both the Captain and his co-captain were Swedes with tanned, weathered faces of outdoor men. Tall and muscular, much older than R but easily able to punch the lights out of him if they wanted to. They suited the ship and reflected its pride.

The Gala dinner followed the cocktail. By mistake they gave us two vegetarian meals whereas R wanted the non-veg one so he was a bit bugged because the food was quite bland. Also, the dinner was a bit boring because we had expected that it to be much more grand and there would be dancing after the dinner, live music etc. Instead it was just a formal dinner with a course system. The only saving grace was a little show by the food and galley team who did a small jig for us.

After the dinner we did some more roaming in the ship. This time visiting the casino on board. By then we had met with many Indians. Couples on honeymoon as well as big khandaans. Majority of the Indians were Marwadis from small cities like Indore, Meerut, Ranchi etc. During the gala cocktail the captain said that the total number of passengers were more than 2000, and considering that the cruise started from Singapore, there should be a lot of Orientals but instead wherever we went we met only Indians. Once we entered the casino we realised where the Oriental friends were. Spread across backjack, roulette and slot machines were numerous people, with the exception of a couple of Caucasians and Indias, everyone was Oriental.

"So thats what these people are doing." R commented, "Trying to recover the cruise cost here."

Fools I would say because I firmly believes that the house always wins. The next stop was the Karoke pub where a lissome figure of a woman was singing a beautiful English song about love and separation. R looked at her with admiration while I was amazed at the exaggeration of her actions. Her voice was a little too shrill, walk a wee bit bouncy and movements more effiminate than usual.

"Aadmi hai. Ladka hai, shart maar." I told R.
"What? Noooo...." R looked me incredulous.
"Bol kitne ki, if I win you get me a chocolate sundae everyday for the rest of the trip." I said.
"And if I will I get to drink myself unconcious tomorrow night." he countered.
"Chal thik hai, bet."

Now the bet was struck but the main question was, how to find out whether she was a he or a real she? For the next half hour there was no way we could either approach her/ him or ask anyone. We began to wonder whether we should chuck the bet but then we decided to wait for a day to see if you will be able to find out somehow.

Our last stop was the disco where people were dancing in couples. It was a competition. R had some cocktail and I relaxed with hot chocolate. The music chaged from Mambo to salsa to rock to disco and couples changed styles and actions to the music. It was really amazing to see elderly people go for it and dance like never before. Neither of us know all these dances so we just watched for sometime. I was feeling drowsy after the hot chocolate so I went for a walk while R sat at the bar. The night was dark and the wind thick with humidity. Far out in the sea here and there specks of light showed ships travelling to their destinations. The contrast between what went on inside, the lights and noise and what was outside, the darkness and peace was so stark, it was difficult to decide which was the real one, the world inside or the one outside.

Day - 3

2006-12-13T13:28:00.001+05:30

The sun shines doubly in the sea as the water reflects and breaks the sheets of gold into infinite diamonds. Thats what the sunrise looked like in the sea. Sadly, R is the one to sleep till late, of course he had a good reason to. He had done his bit to reduce the ship's supply of alcohol the previous night and it would take till 9-10 in the morning to remove the after effects of the indulgence.

I went for a walk around the ship. It was humungous. With 13 decks, the height is easily as much as a building with 11 floors. The 13th deck had a walking trail where many people were taking morning walks. It was close to eight in the morning and smell of freshly brewed coffee came from one of the restaurants on that deck.

The gym was unoccupied and I thought of trying the treadmill. I have never exercised on it so I went to check it out. It was the best thing I did. The gym was on the twelveth deck with one side of glass windows which looked out to the sea. The treadmills faced the windows. It was so cool to walk on the treadmill with the entire ocean spread in front of you.

After lunch we reached the first port of call, Penang in Malaysia. We got to land through a ferry boat and stepped out on the pier to an interesting sight. From afar it looked like a street vendor who had parked his wares in a stall, on a closer look, his wares were something we had never seen before in such a setting. Spread out in front of him, in numerous little boxes, neatly tagged were notes and coins of not less than 10 different currencies. Above him hung the latest buying and selling rate written by sketchpen on chart paper. The only thing that made him different from a street vendor was that he was conducting his business silently instead of the regular bellowing, "Le lo bhai khilone le lo."

R hesitated but the Star Cruise personnel said that it was ok to get money exchanged there, so we took some local currency and proceeded to take a taxi. Behind me I saw a fair girl with red and white bangles, the sign of a brand new bride speaking in Hindi with a man presumably her brand new groom. I approached them,

"We could share a taxi if you like. One taxi for the day costs 160, instead of spending 320 we can spend 160 and ride together." I said smiling in Hindi.
"Makes sense." The girl said, "Kya kehte ho?" she asked her husband.
"Koi gal nahi." the guy said. Revealing himself as the happy-go-lucky Punjabi. Don't know why but I have a thing with these Punjus, har jagah mil jaate hai.

Thus we met and made friends with V and S, a newly married couple from Delhi who were with us on the cruise and spent the day with them in Penang.

It was a charming little seaside town with big malls and a beach which is a rare combination of sea and mountains. It also has some Buddhist temples, one of them being the Sleeping Buddha. Alone, we would have been bored I think but with V and S it was fun. S was aghast when I told her that R and I were not yet married but recovered from the shock soon enough and admitted that she envied our guts.

We were to get back to the ship by seven in the evening. We spent some time at the temples, some in the malls and then stayed at the beach chatting till sundown. I didn't want to go into the sea because it wasn't that clean so we just relaxed and talked. A drunk man tried to sell us jet ski and para sailing rides. R and V had to literally corner him and bully him to leave. I was a little afraid that some of his cronies might interfere and turn it into a brawl but interestingly nothing happened. A massage lady later told me that the man did this everyday and nobody really bothered about him.

There was one thing that bothered me though, money. We just couldn't spend thinking that everything cost so much more here than in India. I was constantly doing the math in my head. We were not going to splurge because we did not have that kind of money but still, we were supposed to have fun and that cost money, so why could I not spend? Then R gave an profound explanation to this, "Pri, free fun is better than paid fun, what other reason do people have to get married?" I slapped him on the shoulder, V guffawed and S blushed.

Back at the ship, R, V and S went for a swim while I sat near the pool reading. At dinner we ate like we had been stranded in an uninhabitated island for months and then roamed around the ship. By midnight we were tired and with a promise to meet up with V and S again the next day turned in. I sat in my balcony for a long time watching the water my mind in wonder at nature's power - the sea on which I was a miniscule, irrelevant speck versus man's power - the ship which conquered the sea and turned me into the one to challenge it too.

Day - 2

2006-12-12T15:06:00.000+05:30

This was the big day. I had some important meetings in the morning R also had some work at his office and was busy till lunch so R and his colleague dropped me off near the area where the offices were located and I was on my own. Singapore has one main business district. It is located on the banks of the only river of Singapore.

By 1:30 we had to reach a place called the Harbour Front to board the Super Star Virgo cruise. This was the highlight of our holiday so I was very excited. By 1:00 I was done with the meetings and rushed back to the apartment so collect the bags because R was still busy, we had talked, he was to meet me at the Harbour Front. I reached the Harbour Front in time and stood in the line for check-in into the ship but R hadn't got there. I was beginning to worry. Behind me the crowd started thinning as people moved into the ship. Then my turn came at the counter, I let a large family of Marwadis go instead.

After some time of waiting and letting others pass, I was alarmed to notice that the counters were beginning to close. Still there was no sight of R. I looked around for a payphone, there was one in the corner. Risking the possibility of having to restart in a new line, I pushed the trolley to the payphone. It was free for local calls so I called his office, no one picked up.

I was bordering on panic. Suddenly a voice blared out from somewhere.

"Calling for Mr. Desai and Ms. Mehta to please check-in immediately."
"Shit. Where the hell is this man?" I mumbled and pushed back to the check-in counter. Panic had given way to anger. "I don't give a damn, he can stay here, I am going to enjoy my holiday."

"Ms. Mehta?" The girl at the counter asked. "Are you checking in alone?"
"Yes." I said, still on the lookout for R's figure hurrying through the crowd.
"You have been booked together with Mr. Desai." she said.
"I know."
"Is he not coming?" her voice was incredulous.
"I have no freaking idea dear." I said in a sweet, sarcastic voice.
"You have two single cabins, can I cancel his?" she asked.
"No, wait for him but check me in"
"Ok, please give me your passport and confirmation please." She did some stamping and checking for a couple of minutes. "Here you go. Please proceed to board the ship immediately."

I pushed the trolley towards the boarding line which consisted of only a couple of people, still looking behind my back. The speakers blared, "Calling for Mr. Desai, please proceed to check-in immediately." The sound faded slowly as I walked at the snails pace, avoiding the travellator. Still waiting. At next counter they asked for my passport and replaced it with an access card to the cabin.

"Ms. Mehta, welcome. There is a message for you. Your companion is sorry for the delay. He has just reached the check-in counter and requested you to wait if ..." The man at the counter paused, there was a twinkle of humour in his eye. "If you still want to marry him." He completed with a chuckle.

I did not know how to react. I was furious enough to push the trolley and run into the ship without waiting for him but his very simple and matter-of-fact request made me smile and, wait. It took only a few seconds for R to appear, running for his dear life on the travellator.

"Sorry." He spoke between breaths.
"Whatever it is tell me later, lets go."

He took the trolley from me and we trotted towards the boarding gate. The staff of the cruise seemed to know the problem, they were laughing at us. We stepped into the ship, our baggage in hand and the gate closed behind us. We were the last to board the ship.

The rest of the day went in asserting my anger and demanding compensation. That was really fun. The fool had forgotten his passport and ticket confirmation at a client's office where he had gone for the meeting. The office was closed after the meeting because it was a Sunday. He had to return to their office from half-way to Harbout Front, get them to reopen it and retrieve his passport and documents. He had tried to call me but there was no way I was reachable except by calling the cruise offlice which was constantly engaged. I had happily declined to get international roaming inspite of his insistance to avoid the extra expenses. He gave me a "I-told-you-so" a couple of time to aussage his own guilt.

After this initial shocker, things went smooth. The ship was awesome. Our cabins had small balconies. It was a tremendous kick to step out into the balcony and face the endlessness of the sea. We had three days of this bliss and I wanted to make the most of it so I forgave him and went back to having fun.

Day 1 - Highlights

2006-12-05T17:17:00.000+05:30

Long winding queues at Mumbai airport. Took forever to board the flight but managed in time. Superman Returns on the flight (watched the movie on the little screen, real cute guy to replace Chirstopher Reeve). Wierd knot in the stomach all through out the flight for some reason so could not eat the apology of an Indian supper that they gave.

No problems in pick up and no mispronunciation this time like it had happened with the Bangkok trip. The placard was waiting with its dark Dravidian driver. Rangacharian was his name. Second generation Indian-Singaporean. R commented, someday we will have to make a new race with Indian _____ considering every country has its share of Indians or people with Indian origin.

Slept for two hours and got ready in a mad rush for a meeting. Finished meeting and met R at a city Hotel's coffee shop. He had by that time figured out the entire Metro rail system. Took me to Little India, a suburb of Indians in Singapore. We will never improve no matter where we go and how many years we live away. The same sidewalk encroachment and pan spittle here too. Felt like home. Had nice South Indian filter coffee in a cafe at Little India.

Indians are the third largest population consisting of 8% of the total population of Singapore. 80%-90% are of South Indian origin. Most of them have been born and brought up here and have never seen the looks of Chennai. Majority work in blue collar jobs of taxi drivers, waiters, security officers etc. which is sad considering how we have reached much higher levels in other countries.

Went to Mustafa Market, the only 24 hours shopping mall in Singapore. Jam packed shelves and showcases with everything from pins to laptops. Did not shop much since don't really enjoy it and neither does R but nevertheless spent a couple of hours just looking around. Prices are the same as India in some cases a bit higher but there is much more variety in the products offered. It was full of Indians shopping their minds off. One Uncle bought a sackful of deodrants and another lady ordered here entire kitchen. How I know they did not live in Singapore? I examined the shipping bills at the billing counter. All the products were to be packed and shipped to Calcutta.

It was raining by the time we left Mustafa. Took the Metro back to R's office apartment. Dinner was at the Singapore Zoo and did the night safari there. It is awesome. At first it seemed like a large scale sham because it is not everyday that one sees the king of the jungle pacing a few meters away or a gargatuan elephant tusks and all munching on grass a few paces away. What they have done is recreated the fragile eco systems of rain forests, steppes, grasslands, mangroves etc and habited it with almost extinct species of flora and fauna.

The animals are kept in open under white lights which resemble moonlight in brightness and temperature and in the middle there is a trail which is completely dark. The distance of the trail from the animal depends on the power of its eyesight. The trail has a tram which runs through the safari and with a tour guide give an idea about the animals around. There are walking trails also. It is an experience not easily described. You can know more about this at www.nightsafari.com.sg. Its worth the visit.

Came back after a tour of the city hotels. Actually thats what it became. We were in a tourists bus which had tourists from 8 different hotels and the driver was supposed to drop all of us, so the tour guide converted it into a night tour complete with running commentary on the various buildings and places. It was quite interesting and we got and idea of the business, tourist and civic district of the country complete with the Supreme court - shaped like a spaceship, the Parliament House and the statue of Sir Raffles, the man responsible of building modern Singapore.

The first day was smooth and a lot of fun. Turned in with a hope that the rest of the trip will be in the same tune.

Of my travels far and wide

2006-12-04T18:07:00.000+05:30

I am back. The trip was awesome. I haven't had so much fun since I had gone to the trekking trip in college. The work was the first two days and after that was 8 days of pure and simple fun.

It was my first time in Singapore and from what people had told me it is a squeaky clean place where people are fined for smoking, littering and cannot even imagine in their worst nightmares of spitting on the streets. Its all true and boy the effect is surreal. Its seems beyond faultless with automatons posing as people.

There are a lot of observations but as of now do not have the time to write them all down. I wish I did but am swamped with pending work and on top of that finding it difficult to sit on a desk and look through emails after 10 days of no PC, no cellphone and most importantly no boss.

R and I went to four countries, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand and Indonesia in 10 days but it still wasn't a rush-rush thing. We used public transport and tatiya (feet) transport most of the time wherever we went so as to minimize expenses since we are both quite broke now after spending so much in the air tickets and accomodation. Some of it was paid for but quite a bit was our own money.

I am now tanned and glowing. Parents are relieved, as if we would have made the brief voyage into a permanent escapade and never returned. R was back to work this morning itself with a con-call. Things will return to normal in a few days but all in all the fantastic 10 days will be remembered and relieved again and again through the memories.

Oh my God!!!

2006-11-24T15:45:00.000+05:30

Various tones, expressions and octaves were used depending on the reactions by the people who got the news. To some it was shocking, to some suprising, others considered it with envy and yet others who know me better followed it with, "This was to be expected of you."

What am I talking about? Well, it is something with many of you will consider with raised eyebrows. I am going to Singapore. No, thats not it. I am going to Singapore on work. There is more to come, I am going to Singapore on work and R is coming with me. HEE HAA HAA HAA. Pre-marraige honey moon. Cool na.

This idea was not exactly met with approval from my parents but then my mom said, "Jaane do, there are times when you let your child decide. She is now out of our hands." His parents did not give up so easily but then he didn't exactly ask for their permission. His mother did try to talk to me about it, something to the effect of what will people say? I replied something to the effect of who gives a damn.

Finally after a lot of yes/ no/ maybe I am going tonight. Everything is in place. I will be back on December 3. Till then silence shall prevail on this space.

Reading - Negatives

2006-11-23T11:16:00.000+05:30

I have been gushing about the book like anything because it seems to me that it deserves all the praise I have given but this does not mean that it is faultless. There are certain negatives in the book which make it such a painful read that many people are not able to complete it.

Firstly, it is long. More than 1000 pages and that too only because the font size is .8. There are times when you would say, "Yeah yeah, get on with it." The reason for this is that the story in itself is not so long, it is stretched by the author with a purpose of propogating and documenting her ideas. If we only take the main turning points and events in the story, it can be summairsed almost by half. I don't know what system of editing was used when Ann Rynd wrote and whether publishers used to put their two bit into the work but this one sure looks like it never passed under an editor's eye or even if it did no real changes were made.

Secondly, it is heavy. Not exactly a page turner where each chapter ends with a sense of suspense and forces you to go on till you finish it in the wee hours of the night. So even if it is a best-seller, it could not have done better than a normal suspense, romance, tragedy or drama novel because of its very heavy message sent across in speeches and monologues which are painfully long and sometimes repetitive. For e.g. D'Anconia's speech about money, Rearden speech at his trial and the mother of all speeches, John Galt's radio speech which is 28 pages long.

Thirdly, the bias. Ann Rynd had talked about India, hardly a few sentences but what she wrote is sickening and definately not true. Her sweeping analysis of certain things is such that one feels like she doesn't know what the hell she is talking about. She has a bias, it could have arisen because of what she went through in her life in Russia but from the book one realises that there is no space for an alternate thought, no doubt for anything else. The fatwa she announces is that, "My way or highway, if not this than nothing." This does not go well with me especially because her potrayal of everything that is against her belief is such that you are compelled to dislike. Its just too damn dictactic and manipulative.

Fourthly, glorification of escapism. John Galt escapes just like a losing warrier would escape from the battlefield, hide on the side, build his own army and return to rule when everyone else has killed each other. The book calls this the right thing to do. I call it escapism. Sure, things are bad, sure situations and circumstances are not supportive to your belief, sure they are out to defeat you, so what? You run away? Nope not in the real world you don't. In the real world you stick it out, stay till the end and die if you have to defeated maybe but not a fugitive at least. To this doubt the book provides justification stating that it is right to escape a world which uses your last drop of energy but would not acknowledge that it can't live without you. Somehow for me it is not a good enough justification.

Lastly, I wouldn't recommend this as a book you should take on a fun vacation. In fact take it only if you want to ruin the vacation because it will make you feel angry, contemptuous and sometimes downright miserable. Its a book I would call, "Read it at your own risk."

Reading - Style

2006-11-21T15:14:00.000+05:30

A mark of a good story teller according to me is how s/he potrays emotions. How the words describes the feelings and present a vision of the character. In Atlas Shrugged, the author is biased towards her principles. She has a certain belief and she reiterates it in every word. This also reflects in her potrayal of the emotions of her characters. You feel a strong disgust for the looters in the way she describes their faces and a compelling attraction for the industrialists when their faces appear in the story. For example when she introduces James Taggart

" ... He looked like a man approaching fifty, who had crossed into age from adolescence, without the intermediate stage of youth. He had a small, petulant mouth, and thin hair clinging to his bald forehead. His posture had a limp, decentralised sloppiness as if in defiance of his tall, slender body, a body with an elegance of line intended for the confident poise of an aristocrat but transformed into the gwakiness of a lout."

The words are so amazingly transparent here. The phrase 'decentralised sloppiness', so apt to describe Taggart's character of an indecisive heir to his industrial inheritance. It sets our dislike for Taggart so easily right from the beginning. What is so significant about her style is that she is unapologetically biased and will not compromise her dislike for the looters by presenting their appearance in neutral fashion or by leaving it to us to decide.

Another example of how she glorifies her industrialists through her words such that one immediately intakes a breath of pride and eyes glow with insipration at reading about such a character. The entry of John Galt is described as

" ... a face that bore no mark of pain or fear or guilt. The shape of his mouth was pride, and more: it was as if he took pride in being proud. The angular planes of his cheek made her think of arrogance, of tension, of scorn - yet the face had none of these qualities, it had their final sum: a look of serene determination and of certainity, and the look of a ruthless innocence which would not seek forgivness or grant it."

The description goes on to speak about his physique, clothes, hair, eyes in such vividness that whenever I read it, I see him and somehow it seems an impossibility that any one can match the man she potrays as if he is meant to remain in the folds of the book as if he is just too good to be true.

This style of depiction is present all through the book. Expressions, grimaces, coutenances, visages, voices, laughter, pain and shock of characters defined to the minutest details with words and phrases like

"She knew - by the way he looked at her, by an instant's drop of his eyelids closing his eyes, by the brief pull of his head striving to lean back and resist, by the faint, half-smiling, half-helpless relaxation of his lips, by the sudden harshness of his arms as her seized her - that it was involuntary, that he had not intended it, and that it was irresistibly right for both of them."

One has to read it, i mean really read it, slowly, deliberately if needed aloud to understand these words and what they convey. Every word read goes to mean something and every word missed is a meaning lost.

Reading - Characterisation

2006-11-17T16:05:00.000+05:30

The second observation on Atlas Shrugged is about the characterisation in the story. There are 6 or 7 main characters and interestingly each character has his/ her conscience mirrored in another. Since the basic message of the story is that the world belongs to those who produce and sell for an adequate consideration and not for those who expect things undeserved and unearned, the characters are split into two main categories, one the industrialists and second the looters.

The industrialists are those who do not give nor desire anything unearned or undeserved and include Dagny Taggart, Henry Rearden, Francisco D'Anconia, Eddie Willers etc. The looters are those who live off as parasites of the industrialists and declare that need should govern everything irrespective of whether they earn/ deserve it or not and include James Taggart, Lillian Rearden, Weasly Mouch, Dr. Ferris etc.

Each of the industrialists' virtue is reflected with a corresponding evil in the looters. Dagny's determination as against James' indecisiveness. Henry's passion against Lillians' passivity, Francisco's beliefs as opposed to Mouch's brainwashing. Eddie's loyalty as opposed to Dr. Ferris' deception.

There are a couple of characters who sail in the middle. Not able to decide which side the virtue lies. I like the description of their confusion the most. Dr. Rober Stadler who is a brilliant scientist but is in the process of crossing over to the looter's side because of his quest for power and a government official nick named The Wet Nurse who goes through a metamorphosis and changes from the looter's side to that of the industrialists. There is also Cheyrl who believes in what the industrialists strive for but is unknowingly trapped on the side of the looters.

And then there is the man who stops the motor of the world, the one who denotes the Atlas, the one who deserves the last credit. John Galt. The man who has understood the looters game and is not ready to sacrifice himself at their altar. He indroduces the concept of "mind on strike" to the industrialists and creates an concealed ideal world for those industrialists who are like-minded.

I believe in Atlas Shrugged Ann Rynd has a winner in the ambit of characterisation because what I consider good characterisation in a book is when the reader has a problem in choosing his/ her favourite and thats what happens to me in Atlas Shrugged. I cannot choose one over the other because they are all so complete in themselves.

But there is something I would point out here. John Galt, the "hero" of the story appears in person in the last 1/3rd of the book. Till then we just see a reference of the name but don't see the presence of the man. In my opinion Galt scores a bit less than Rearden or D'Anconia, because one doesn't really know the guy too well. In a book of more than a 1000 pages, the characters with whom you stay the longest are obviously the most compelling. I don't know how the author could have changed this because this is a description of Dagny Taggart life in the third person and Galt's person enters in the last 1/3rd so this probably was the only way but still somewhere, somehow if Galt had a known story behind him like all the other disappeard prodigies had, it might have made a difference.

Another thing which I felt was uncharacteristic was Dagny's love for Galt. Maybe it is my liking for Rearden that makes me biased but somehow I felt that she falls for Galt a bit to fast. Rearden was a great guy and Dagny a strong woman, a woman of belief and will how could she switch so fast. I am not talking about sacrificing her real love for someone lesser, I am just saying the whole thing was not convincing enough, just seemed surreal.

Lastly, I cannot help comparing this with The Fountainhead. If we only talk of the "hero" I would vote of Roarke over Galt any day.

Reading ...

2006-11-15T13:30:00.000+05:30

My mood to a certain extent depends on what I am reading in the train ride to office every morning. My current book is "Atlas Shrugged" and so my mood is mostly contemplative and sometimes contemptous. Around the same time last month I started to reread Ann Rynd's well known book which has an impression of being a cult classic. This one is the comparitively lesser liked booked from the two very famous novels by the author, the other being "The Fountainhead."

I had read "The Fountainhead" much before, in between CA exams and then read this one just after shifting to Mumbai a few years ago. Both books appealed to me in more ways than one. I decided to reread 'Atlas Shrugged' because in the first read, I had skipped all the unnecessary speeches which in different ways have reiterated the basic philosophy of the author. This time I am reading every word, contemplating on every single verbal and non-verbal interaction between the characters and analysing the various aspects of the philosophy that the author has tried to communicate.

Though I have reread almost all other books as well, the only difference is that other books like Dan Browns, Jeffery Archers, John Grishams etc. are not so forceful in what they communicate mainly because the message of these books is not very relevant to me and my circumstances as such and so they are read with the interest limited to its style of writing and at times even borders just being time-pass reading. For example when I read the Da Vinci Code, I was quite intrigued by the story of Jesus that he had managed to recreate and reinterprete but that was all, it didn't shake me up or push me to think about its impact on the basic premises of Christianity because I am not a Christian so all I was analysing was how he had presented the story interwoven with history, religion and suspense.

Coming back to Atlas Shrugged, there are few remarkable things in the book that have struck me almost as if the were a physical connection. At times a punch in the stomach and others a skip of the heartbeat. I plan to write them down one at a time in various posts. The first thing that always caught my attention and was the name of the book. Ann Rynd must have been really smart to think of this. All through the beginning I was trying to figure out its relevance which is revealed much later when we near the end of the first half. The dialogue goes,

.... his voice solemnly calm, "if you saw Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, if you saw that he stood, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling, his arms trembling but still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the greater his effort the heavier the world bore down on his shoulders - what would you tell him to do?

"I.... don't know. What ... could he do? What would you tell him?"

"To shrug."

This was the analogy for what happens in the story. Imagine what would happen if Atlas Shrugged? The world would end and that's what happens, the world the characters lived in ends because their Atlas shrugs.

Sound Bytes

2006-11-02T17:27:00.000+05:30

This had happened when R and I were on one of our house hunting sessions. Our estate agent Paragbhai, a good man, bit too chatty for my liking but still we preferred him because he knew our tastes and so showed us only homes which we would like both in terms of area and price. Anyway, one day when we were on our Mission Ashiyana, Paragbhai who had the knack of describing each house at if it was the best we had ever seen or ever would see was decribing how wonderful the view was outside the window (incidently looking over a naala) and how the directions were perfect (couldn't make out the east from the west because of buildings all around) and how the wind circulated in the house (smelt of the naala) etc. etc. R looked at me questioningly, in Paragbhai's presence we would resort to taking non-verbal opinions from each other. I hadn't liked it so I shook my head, R as an excuse said,

"Paragbhai, thodu naanu pade amne." (would be a little small for us)

To this came the immediate retort. The eye-opening gyan of the estate agent

"Sir, Mumbai ki life ka ek hi gam hai. Har ghar mein ek kamra kam hai."

Ok now those who are critical of Mumbai life will give a chuckle at the statement of the obvious. Sure, he might be saying it to everyone but for us coming from a man who himself lives in a 1BHK which is too small for his needs and makes his money by helping other find homes too small for their needs, the poetic expression was quite unexpected, but apt.

An Unrelated Thought

Its without any context, just popped into my head.

When you disguise the disappointment with a seemingly offhand "I knew it won't happen" thats when you disclose to yourself how badly you actually wanted it to.

Sasur - Jamai

2006-10-27T14:25:00.000+05:30

The daughter's husband is supposed to be treated just about the same as one would treat God. The Jamai, the saviour, protector and provider of the daughter is the man whom the family must rever and respect. The father of the daughter inspite of being elder to the Jamai in status and age, has to greet the Jamai with the slight droop of shoulders and a bit of bow of the head. That is a regular practice in our country but with certain exceptions, one of them being my father and R.

R's parents are in the US and so he had no reason to go to Ahmedabad. Since my parents were also looking for a break, I invited them to my new house. R was all alone since his room mates went home so he stayed with us. It was a classic situation with possibilities of explosion because my father like all fathers thinks that i could have done better than R and R like all son-in-laws thinks that Papa is too conceited and conservative.

Mummy tried to save the day by her constant chatter but I was kind of worried that the combination would lead to either a volcano or a blizzard. Things were ok till R's office was on but from Saturday to Monday were holidays and I was at my wits end as to how to get the days to pass fast. Saturday was no problem as such because we went to my maasi's house and in the hulabaloo of cousins and friends no need arose to stir the still waters.

But on the fateful evening of Sunday we went to my bua's house for dinner and something happened there which had the possibilities of unpleasant repercussions as to whatever it was or wasn't between Papa and R. It all went well till dinner. We were all chatting and laughing about life in Mumbai with everyone participting cheerfully. We were quite a few in the tiny room, R, my parents, bua - fufaji, bua's daughter - jamai, bua's son and me.

At around 10:45 pm, M, bua's jamai got into his mind to burst crackers. Now both T, bua's daughter and M her husband are horizontally challenged. A, bua's son was not too enthusiastic about it, he mumbled something about the society not allowing crackers after 10:00 p.m. but nobody heeded him seriously. R was neutral and Mummy was too sleepy to object. Papa was enthusiastic about it and walked with M to the open area with everyone else trailing except my fufaji who wasn't keeping too well and had chosen to stay put.

After a couple of noisy bombs just as M started with the third a shrill voice yelled from the floors above.

"What are you people doing, stupid nonsense, you don't know the rule to stop crackers by 10:00 p.m. Stop immediately otherwise I will complain to the Chairman. Who are you people I have not seen you in the society before? How can you just go on with your boom boom you nonsense people? Ten is the limit in this society you should know ..."

On and on went the faceless voice. The lady was hidden by the branches of a tree so I could not see her but M could. He was standing motionless at the spot, I guess due to shock. T and A were also standing with him. T recovered the earliest and motioned M to stop with the crackers. We were all prepared to move away quietly after apologising to the lady, after all a rule is a rule, besides T's father was the Chairman of the society and it would look very bad if his family broke the rules, but M had other ideas.

To our utter amazement he started abusing the woman in return. "Who do you think you are telling me to stop? I will burst crackers as and when I please. It is Diwali and thats what one is supposed to do in Diwali, burst crackers. If the noise disturbs you put cotton in your ears."

T was taken aback at her husband's outburst, she held his bulky shoulder and asked him to calm down, "Jaane do ab, chalo kal phodenge patakhe."

"Arre why? I know what I am doing, I want to burst crackers now and I will burst them." M yelled at her.

Through this all of us were silent spectators whereas the lady above was still on with her cribbing and yelling. A couple of other windows also had faces on them of people prepared to watch an interesting row. Papa being the eldest there decided to intervene and indicated at M to quit it.

"Chalo yaha se, rule is rule na. Waise bhi it is quite late. Chal bhai chal." He said approaching M with A and R on his side.

Now M was so mad he resembled a raging bull, his size was quite similar so we were all a bit wary. Papa and R seemed dwarfish before him. The moment A held his arm attempting to direct him homewards, M pushed him away and grabbing a new bomb continued to light it at distance near the clearging. The woman was still yelling non-stop.

"I will call the police. You will have to spend the night in jail. I swear you will regret this. You nonsense stupid guy. All of you will go to jail. @#$%**!!"

M had by that time reached the point of no return. Flinging his arms towards the lady he yelled, "You want to call the police, go call them. Do whatever you want to I don't care. I will light this bomb."

T was the only one who could calm him we thought so A and T went towards him. "Don't come near me, don't stop me. I know what I am doing. Why are you stopping me instead of supporting me?" M warned.

"Stop acting like a child." T said calmly. "Why are you making a row in public? Stop all this and lets go home."

"Fine, fine, you want me to stop, I will stop and I will leave but I will not spend another night in your parents house." M yelled and throwing the bomb at us walked off in a huff. A tried to follow him but T indicated to leave him alone.

All this happened in a matter of minutes, we were all quite taken aback by the whole scene. It was very embarassing. R looked amused, Papa horrified. Bua and T seemed as if about to cry while A looked as if, if permitted he would get into a duel with M. Mom was trying to make light of it by joking about jamais. I looked up at that lady and apologised about the whole thing. Thankfully she drew back inside since her primary adversary had quit mumbling something under her breath.

The best thing to do after that was scoot. So Mom, Papa, R and I walked towards the auto stop. I heard my father say in a low voice to R,

"If you pull a stunt like that in my house, I will punch your lights out."

R looked at him and said, "With all due respect sir, I might respond just that way if anyone misbehaves in my house."

"Spoken like a real man." Papa said with a smile, "Both my daughters have chosen well."

Mom and I exchanged a look of suprise. This is as close as he would ever come to complimenting either of his son-in-laws is what we both thought. Mom then played a hand and managed to get them both share an auto while she and I came in another.

I guess what passed in the auto will remain a mystery but both of them did not come home straight and the next morning both woke up with a hangover. I guess men have their way of straightening things out. R and Papa seem have done that, alcohol helped of course, not that they are best of friends now but the volcano/ blizzard that threatened the peace of my little house has disappeared in the tinkling of bear mugs.

"Cheers" I say to that ...

Gujjus and Kanjoos naaaahhhhh

2006-10-18T15:50:00.000+05:30

We are not kanjoos. I don't agree with people who think Gujjus are kanjoos. Gujjus spend when they can and want to spend but it just seems that we are kanjoos because we insist on getting the right value for the money we spend and we have a very intrinsic gut feel on the inherant value of the product so much so that impulsive buying is just out of question, even in deliberated buying there is debate, discussion, bargaining and negotiation. To prove my point I quote below a song used as a garba in Navratri it goes like

Paavli layine hoon toh Pavagadh gayi ti,
Pavagadhwali mane darshan de, darshan de,
nahi toh maari paavli paachhi de,

Translated into English it means

With a paavli I went to Paavagadh
Oh Goddess of Pavagadh, appear before me, but if you don't,
better give me my paavli back

Paavli - 25 paisa coin, Paavagadh - A hill in Gujarat which is considered the home of a Goddess

Only a Gujju can write such a song and negotiate with God. Only we can tell the Goddess of Pavagadh to deliver or return the consideration. Value for money at its best. :D

Girlfriends

2006-10-06T18:51:00.000+05:30

"The best part about having girlfriends is that they understand your need for chocolate." T quipped in the manner of imparting a life changing gyan to R.

To put this into context, R is my hone wale woh and T is a friend I have recently made at office. This statement was made when T and another of our friend A had come to my place and had brought a huge bar of Dairy Milk with them as a gift. R doesn't get it, not many men do as to why women swoon and salivate at the mere mention of the C word.

"I say, Chocolate sauce and strawberries is probably better than sex." says A, the unattached one with all her wisdom and not so relevant but a bit of experience. R raises his eyebrows and looks at me with an expression of "What blasphemy?" He is not so used to Mumbai girls yet.

I have never had many girlfriends. Most of my lasting friends are guys. I don't know why this has happened maybe it is because I prefer the fight-it-out-if-you-have-a-problem-with-me instead of the connive-behind-my-back-but-still-call-me-a-best-friend attitude.

But its not that I had never had girlfriends, most of my them have been place specific or situation specific, like my dance class friends or my college friends. Sadly, out of them very few have survived the days and distance that have now separated us.

Since I came to Mumbai, I haven't had any girlfriends, Nish is there of course and then Raina, but still Nish isn't a girl and Raina and I are too different to be that close. So I went on without the comfort of my kind, missing the giggling sessions, the gossiping and the bitching etc. typical to women which I used to engage in and enjoy Ahmedabad.

Now that T and A have come into my office, things are very different, a slight twitch of the eyebrows indicates the onslaught of the period pains and a combiflam appears with a glass of water. A small change in tone points out the fight with the man and an understanding hug turns this little less gloomy. An almost invisible sign shows a good-looking guy just passing by and a collective spurt of giggles.

There is comfort in girlfriends and their understanding of things from the tiniest and seemingly insignificant to the most profound, sometimes much more profound than just the need for chocolate.

What??? Typical to men you think women don't think of profound things? Well you are wrong, we think of lots of profound things? You ask me what we think of??? Now now, you think I will let you in on the secret, thats our USP re. The reason why men spend their lives saying, "Will I ever understand her?" Do you think I will be the traitor to my kind by telling you that? Keep guessing while the women around you exchange a look of understanding, keep guessing ...

Alive

2006-10-04T11:21:00.000+05:30

Sleep is keyed to end at the tune of the cellphone chime. Limbs functioned to move exactly in the next two minutes. Brain powered to process actions at the first shriek of traffic. Each movement structured to catch the 9:16 local and racing to reach office just in time.

The mind has no extra space then, calculated to reject everything that will possibly occupy it unnecessarily and delay the body from reaching the spot where the first class compartment's door will stop for the mad rush into an empty train and a sense of achivement at getting a seat.

Just as the train moves I see a little girl dressed up in her best frock holding the guiding hand of her mother who walks carefully through the crowd. There eyes meet for a fleeting instant, they understand and she picks her up in her arms protecting her against unknown body machines.

Momentarily I forget that I am in the mechanised mode, a smile comes to my lips at the beauty of the mother-child wordless bond. I will do what I have to do but it is refreshing to remember once in a while the fact that within this programmed body, I am still alive.

In converstation with me.

2006-09-29T13:20:00.000+05:30

Things are not going so well from the work point of view in life. I have to give up on something I had worked very hard on for a very long time and that is painful. I have been crying a bit but hate myself for it so to end the dispair in my mind this was what I wrote to myself ...

Stop crying you fool. There are a lot of people much worse than you in the world and they bloody smile in front of all the pain. you have so much to thank God for. Just be grateful and get on with life. You have hated self-pity in other people so why are you getting into it yourself. Just shut up, do what has to be done in life. If you go on like this for long, you will be like one of those people who you hate.

Its difficult I know, but then what is not. If you were the wife of a rich man, your difficulty would be an identity crisis. if you were a rich businessman your difficulty would be extortionists and by God's grace if you had been the President of the United States there would be an Osama somewhere in the world causing pain in the wrong places.

So difficulty is going to be there. Remember the past instances where you overcame and how strong you became. This too shall pass. You might turn back and realise how stupid you were at wasting tears and time after something so irrelevant. And how can it not pass when time goes on without asking you whether it should. You have not lost something that you cannot rebuild, remember what Rudyard Kilpling said,

"If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;"

Of course like all men who think the world consists only of their kind he also addressed it to his 'son' but I guess you can give the credit that whatever he said is true. If this is what has happened to you, its sad but if I stand outside of you and see what has happened, I see nothing so bad. Get a grip, take a break and move on in life. There is so much to do, so much to see, so much to give and so little time.

Remember, you have not failed. This is not failure, you are doing well at every step because the real failure is if you fail as a human being. All these are just bumps on Indian roads. Why did I say Indian, well thats because they come without warning ... SO GET ON WITH LIFE. NOW.

Fear

2006-09-25T17:34:00.000+05:30

Interesting thing, this fear. I saw it today in someone's eyes. Stark. Yet I found it funny because I did not feel it mainly as I or rather something on me was the cause of the fear. It was in the train this morning. I caught it running and out of breath. The laptop hurting the shoulder blades. I am not used to it because I don't carry it home everyday. Too much hassle. Anyway so I got on and put the laptop on the overhead rack. Since it was a little warm, I avoided sitting down on an empty seat, half walked half stumbled to the door of the compartment and stood facing the wind. For the first couple of minutes, as I stood there feeling the cool wind calm my nerves, I glanced at the laptop's position because I had placed it there hurriedly and did not want it to fall on someone's head.
As the train started speeding I stood at the door holding the support rod in the middle. I knew I would have to move away because the next station would be on the same side and people would rush in. Someone called, "Excuse me." I did not pay attention. The words were repeated. I looked inside wondering who and what it was.

"Is the bag yours?" The question was addressed to me. The query came from a young lady. The typical suburban Mumbai everyday commuter complete with earphones and a book to pass the totally inactive one hour in the train. She was pointing towards my laptop bag above.
"Yes." I replied.
"Can you come and sit here?" she indicated to a seat next to hers.
"Ummm why?" I asked, I had no intention of seating there in this heat.
"Please sit here." She repeated. Her voice had an edge.
"No, I can't sit inside. Its too hot. I am ok here." I replied and continued standing.
"If you don't sit here, I will pull the chain." She said, her voice trembled a bit. Women around her raised their eyes to see what was happening. No one intervened.
"Arre, for what joy?" I was a bit peeved so my voice was mocking.
"What if you leave the bag and get off somewhere?" She almost shouted.
"I would loose my job if I leave the it here and get off." I replied and went inside.
"Just sit here, who knows what is in the bag?" Her cheeks had turned red and the voice was panicky.
"What do you mean?" Just as I uttered those words I realised what she really meant.
"I mean, what if this bag ..." she spoke in spurts but did not complete the sentence.
"Has a bomb?" I completed it for here. She did not reply but I could sense some hostility all around me. "I don't have a bomb in that bag. Its just a laptop."
"So why don't you sit here, near it." She asked.
"Because it is very hot and I don't like reaching office all drenched in sweat. You are a working woman, I am sure you understand that." I argued hoping that she would see sense.
"Look, I don't want to argue but it would make me feel better if you sat here." There was something about her voice that made me realise how scared she was of the possibility that my bag held a bomb. Her eyes were a bit wet and pleading.

"Ok. Just to convince you that I am not a terrorist or something I will sit here." I reluctantly sat down and luckily the fan above was functioning so it was not that uncomfortable.

During this time the train had already crossed four or five stations and many people got on and off, no one had bothered to be a part of the arguement. Some of them watched with various expressions on their faces largely amused at the paranoia of the lady and maybe at my obstinacy as well but as I sat beside the lady and looked at her face now calmly reading the newspaper, I remembered her expression of a few minutes ago. She was afraid. There was fear in those eyes. Fear borne out of suspicion and paranoia. It seemed amusing to me and others around me but to her it was crucial that I sat beside her.

Mumbai is a city inhabited by people who realise that they have no choice to but feign their desperation and frustration as courage and strength but occasionally at unconcious moments the fear resurfaces from their stern features. This fear will slowly loose to routine until another wound peirces them and it emerges stronger than ever. I don't know how many wounds this city can take and how many times it will defeat fear but this lady's reaction made me realise that it might not take all this much more.

Look Who's Back

2006-09-25T16:56:00.000+05:30

Its been four months and twenty-five days since I had written the good-bye post on rediffblogs. Lots of things happened during in this time great, good, bad, sad, ridiculous, horrible, painful etc. etc. but something that happened recently made me realise that I should go back to blogging. If not as active as before at least keep the chornicling and documenting going otherwise life, as it goes will pass by without even one memory stencilled in time. I lost someone very close recently and made me realise how fragile life can be and so the return of the prodigal kid with a very unlike me poem of what I felt when the man who died lay in front of me and I was doing a mundane task of removing rose petals from the stems for people who visited and needed the flowers to pay respects. Dead flowers for the dead …

Dialogue.

I stare at it disbelieving,
its stare matches mine, only slightly amused,
as if surprised at my audacity
to disbelieve its presence.

They go past it in regular humdrum,
each in a wordless dialogue with it.
staring at it as if unseeing
hoping for its absence.

How many lies will be told in its face?
How many days will its shadow shame?
Time will pass and eyes which once sparked tears
will show sadness only in name.

I lower my eyes in helpless defeat
there is always something, they say.
But forget to add the exception
nothing exists that death can’t cheat.