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And so, I sat down finally to open the notepad and scribble something. Needless to say, the blog has been idle for all practical purposes for a long time now.It struck hard when there was "Nothing -but-entropy, Life is good, 2 months back" in another blogroll. One can justify it using many reasons but almost always none of them are true. So, skipping all those parts I am going to the so called the main thread. Having become a bangalore resident for over a year now, the trip to home every alternate weekend is kind of getting a ritual that seems to happen by default. Thanks to our railway system that guarantees tickets that get over faster than Anand Sweets samosas kept in the next cubicle for another baby born.
And so, on a typical friday. I like fridays. Those are the days that I start exhibiting time defying properties. I forget my time-space coordinates and the whole day goes in the hope of 5.30 pm's arrival. The frantic dirty clothes packing is an important part. The mere fact that those can be dumped somewhere is a great feeling by itself.
Mom : "Why did u get so much clothes?"
Me : "Eh? Coz I dint wash them"
Mom : "But u said u were washin clothes the other day i had called u"
Me : (Realising "that" was the day with some season finale and hence calls were being mercilessly cut) "Oh! That was previous week's clothes"
Mom : "But you got those last weekend here only"
Me : (Damn!) "Then it would have been the week previous to that!"
Mom : (Now eyeing suspiciously) Do u ever wash clothes?
By that time, I would have gone into a detailed mathematical illustration of what weeks come after what weeks in a chronological order using a lot of numbers. This always works like a charm to get out of any conversation with her. But enough of digression. Coming back to the friday evening. And so, I land up in the station atleast an hour before the departure. This is another pity while going to chennai. The trains normally start just before conventional midnight and reach chennai by my midnight!.Struck up at the station there is nothing one can do except randomly glance at the various other specimens like oneself! Quite often, one does bump into some known person of years back (especially so, when most of the ppl one knows have ended up in engineering) and the conversations are entirely for courtesy purposes
Random familiar face : hey u are mathangi right?
Me : Yes .Hi..How are u? ( Still trying frantically to rem the name)
RFF : Fine.So watsup?
Me : (entire college + work history in a line max). U?
RFF : (Answer in the same format).
Me : So...Hmm...Good... (single words or single syllable sounds one after the
(elongated) other)
RFF : (Realising that there was no need of that enthued Hi)........ ...... ...........Yeah......
(Both simultaneously) : So see u around then?!
(Both simultaneously) : (Relieved) Sure!
Hence, I take extra care not to walk around too much in the platform.There are of course books that are entirely written for reading during Indian railways second class travel but the look that some nerdily cute guy passing by gives while seeing me with such a cover gets really intimidating. Finally the train came and the settling down started after the eternal confusion of upper, middle, lower and the side upper and lower. I always check out the list pasted on the compartment beginning. It kind of prepares me mentally.That day there were these 2 dudes before me checkin out the list.
Dude 1 : Hey look da. Some 22 year old female in your bay.
Dude 2: Yes
Dude 1: If u sleep off early, I will kill you. We are gonna talk late
Dude 2: Hehe
Having the agenda of checking the list mercilessly squashed, I got inside the compartment and looked around to check the other passengers in the bay.Always, actually always, one of those co-passengers would be a baby of not more than a year old. And there it was! It looked at me with a smirk that said "So, u think you can sleep. lets see, how that goes". I gave up the last hope of a decent sleep and climbed up to my berth. I have to mention about how strategically these berths are placed. Whenever the pity mom or the angry dad picks up the cryin kid to get to a standing position, the kid's mouth lands up right next to my ear! I drifted off a little after the tough adjusting of my frame into the berth ( The railways should allot berths according to passenger's height. The 6 year old kid next to me got a nice middle berth to sleep like the Vitruvian man on the cover of Da Vinci while the poor 5 foot 8 inches frame of mine had to fit inside a side upper berth! - Atrocious I say!) and that is the time the baby started off with a mild waaannn. I turned in the hope of increasing the mouth-to-ear distance and still it dint make any effect. By this time the 'mild' in the above sentence turned to 'an intense screamy' and i gave up and conceded defeat. After me staring pleadingly into its eyes for 15 mins (or after it became tired or whatever) it stopped the howling.
I was relieved and started to try falling asleep again. This time there was a periodic sinusoidal noise. Initally for a second, I thought I was having a dream about the resonance frequency experiments of my high school physics lab.But that sounded ridiculous even to my subconscious mind since I had always dreamt through those experiments too. So, I got up to find the source of the noise. It was a well based snoring from a gigantic tummy in the opposite berth (gigantic tummy because, that was all I could actually see). By this time, I was beyond irritation and more towards resigning and accepting the fate. I started observing the crests and troughs of the wave pattern which by the way was intruiging since one seem to come from the mouth and the other from the nose!
By this time, I already got the "Welcome to Chennai, Have a pleasant stay" message from Airtel. Gathering the backpack I step outside. Smelling the masala dosa and filter kaapee from the Saravana Bhavan in Central Station, I somehow felt that it was all worth it! Home is home I say!- whatever may be! :)
P.S : Read somewhere that the title of the blog is the biggest reader attractor - Hence, tried something :P :)
Life is good.
Design Engineer in 'High Performance Analog' team
Dream profile in my dream company
Thanks to The Higher System!
So, life is good :)
Titles + hero introduction song
Sit with the back perfectly adjusted with the seat contour.Arms and legs in casual sitting posture.No eatables. Definitely no fags.
Hero +heroine first duet
Slightly inclined to one side with the hand on that side, pressed against the handrest of the chair, with the other hand in the air. Frequently looking at the red exit signs to stage a possible escape. Miniskirts or bare chests (as the case may be) may act as a hesitation causing agent to excecute
the escape.
Pre Intermission
Desperate need to get out. (Screen)-(Watch)-(Screen)-(Front row attractive entity) will be the trajectory of the eye.
Intermission
Heavy Sigh from the nose+mouth area. This phase concentrates mainly butter popcorn, coke and vegetable puff procurement.May involve some cursing and profanity usage because of the queue involved.#Fags default assumption.
Post Intermission
Note :This phase may not happen in cases of absolute realisation of the progressing trashness. In such cases, the termination happens here itself. For the 'realisation-ally challenged', this stage involves in the concentrated consumption of the raw materials procured in the previous stage. Questions addressed here are related to 'the extent of molten butter on the popcorn surface', 'the coke+ice ratio' etc. Eyes NEVER travel to the screen.
Hero swearing on Villain Phase
Profused yawning which causes eyes to water. Slow Blinking to clear the eyes. Searching for the last pieces of popcorn in the paper bag. Staring at the ceiling wondering about life.
Climax fight
Looking back at the previously referred 'Front row attractive entity' to determine the nature of relationship between it and the opposite gender accomplice. Sigh of relief if the accomplice is of the same gender.Else the amount of brow frown is directly proportional to the attractiveness of the accomplice. Eyes may occasionally go to the screen if the fight happens in non-old-houses, non-bare-grounds, non-sumo-filled-with-men-hanging-out-of-window.
End credits
Dusting the remains of the meal. Adjusting the looks. Furiously trying to follow the 'Front row attractive entity'. Exit. Cellphone retrieval and "Super padam ya. Definite aa paakalaam"(Super movie dude. Definitely can see) on the lips but "Naan mattum patta podhuma.Neeyum padu"(Is it fair only if I suffer?You too should feel this pighead) inside head.This phase mostly will involve the non acceptance of the bad decision of entering this phase progression.
Footnote:
1. This is applicable to most (read ALL) Kollywood/Bollywood/Tollywood/Timberwood/RedWood/
Sandalwood (and thelike movies).
2. Raw materials used = f(poshness of the theatre involved, amount of budget allocated, hunger of the self/accomplice)
3. The length of the progression undergone is indirectly proportional to the sanity of the individual undergoing the progression
4. I worked on a 'table' like format for some half an hour which anyways got screwed.
Disclaimer:
I wrote this on an extremely cranky and hopeless days of my life. The post is an attempt by me to make me atleast stop frowning. Quality of humor may not be upto usual standards.
It was a cool breezy evening.The blue bike was making its way through the traffic. He was happy. His daughter was clinging to his back with her little arms wrapped tightly around him. The signal was red now. The bike stopped and he turned back to look at her face. He tugged the windwept hair out of her face. He looked at her eyes. He always liked her eyes. Those innocent beautiful black eyes.He smiled. He turned around just in time to feel something tugging his left leg. He bent down to see the reason.
It was a small girl - probably six or seven. The girl was wearing a faded pink skirt patched up at so many places that the skirt no longer was pink. Her hair was put up in the back with little or no traces of oil. Her bare feet were pitch dark filled with dirt. There was a calculative glance in her eyes. They quickly were darting between his bike, another red car with a lady driver, a bike with a couple and another bike with a typical 4 member family scooching in. She tugged at his pants and said again "Sir, paisa".
He looked at her eyes. She had the same black eyes.
He closed his eyes.
It was that hot summer day.The bike was coming fast. He was sitting on the back of the bike with his eyes aimlessly observing the traffic on the roads. He was already late for his interview which was scheduled at half past ten. It was his seventeenth interview in that recession time and he desperately needed the job to atleast start paying his educational loan. The signal was red now. The bike stopped and he leaned in to ask the time to his friend. It was already ten fifteen. He felt something tugging his left leg. He bent down to see the reason.
It was a small girl.She tugged at his pants and said "Anna, paisa..."
Normally on occasions like these, he never gives alms. He vehemently opposes the concept of begging, especially to people who are not physically challenged. He believed that everyone has to do their part of charity in the world but it has to be done with a proper purpose and in a way that ensures that the help reaches the real needy. But this little girl was something different. Those big eyes dint just potray the urgency of the normal 'traffic signal beggars'. It had that inexplicable innocence hidden somewhere which was desperately trying to fight its way out. She was tugging at his pants again "Anna..paisa"
He reached for his purse. His friend said " All fraud da. Its a way for her parents to sit and eat. Don't fall for it ". He stopped, turned and asked "Unga amma enga?" (Where is your mother?)The girl pointed her hands towards the dark corner and said "Anga Saar" (There Sir) He got down the bike and took the little girl's palms and urged her to lead the way. She was scared now. She started to wriggle out of his grip and go to other people waiting in the signal "Vidu Saar. Amma thittum." (Leave Sir. Mother will scold)The guy was firm and though he was hopelessly late for his interview, he wanted to see the parents who were responsible for this little girl's fate. He was visibly angry at them for making girls of that age to beg for alms . He was now dragging the half scared-half crying girl to the corner she had shown.
It was just the starting point of the dark alley that began after the bus stop. The guy went till the corporation dust bin that marked the start of the alley. He threatened the girl that he would take her to the police if she dint show her parents. Then a voice came from the depth "Yaaru Saar? Yaaru?"(Who is it Sir?Who?). A very old lady was lying behind the bin with three stray dogs at her side. She identified herself to be the grandmother of this girl and told the irate guy that the mother had died five years back from an accident at the very same signal and since then, this little girl was the means of survival for both of them. The guy was speechless. He gave a couple of ten rupee notes (which was all he had) to the little girl and started back to walk towards the signal. He turned back to look at the little girl and then the old lady mumbled "Vera engayaachum porandhrukalaam Saar indha ponnu". (She just could have been born some where else Sir..this girl...) He just gave a deep solemn look for a minute before turning and walking towards the signal.
He opened his eyes.
She watched as her dad grabbed the hand of that dirty girl and take her towards the other end of the road. She saw him talk to that girl and then take out his phone . He then took her by hand and got her back to his bike. She dint like the dirty girl at all. Her dad on the other hand, made the dirty girl sit on the front of the bike and started. She was wondering all the way that why her dad is acting so strange. 'He had her. Dint he? Why then he needs another girl. That too a dirty one.And where are they going?' . She saw her dad stop in front of some building. She was scared. She dint want her dad to leave her here. She held his hands tightly and dint let him go.He moved her palms with a "I will be back in a second sweetheart. Just remain seated here." He then went inside with that girl and talked to a lady who looked a lot like her english teacher. He then wrote something on a paper and finally came back. She went and hugged him tightly.She was so releieved to see that his dad has left that girl there itself. As they went outside the building, she slowly read the name on the board "Lord Hands Mercy Home". She dint understand what was happening but was happy that they were going home now. She tightly held on to him.
(Later)
The little girl was screeching "Dad! I want to know how was I born. My friend told that a big bird drops us from the heaven. Really? Tell me! tell me! tell me! tell me! tell me! tell me!". He slowly opened his eyes and caught his little girl who was now leaning and playing on his shoulders from behind. He pulled her forward and looked at her eyes. He always liked her eyes.He smiled involuntarily. He wanted to tell the reason of her birth was something he did not do ten years back.Some thing that he did do today. That same some thing which made him adopt a female baby. Instead he just looked at his wife. They shared a contended smile.
The culture will catch on. Wiki shall rule the world :)
Bunking work and sitting at home has its own significance I guess..
So I was sitting at home, in front of the comp with this plate of cookies..
The room door opened and I sensed some soul was moving in the back.As this was a usual thing at home, I just ignored and continued along..
After some minutes, I sensed that some soul staring at me from behind.As this was definitely not usual, I turned back to scowl at the observer..
It was a family friend's 7 year old son (third standard dude) who had come home for a visit..
I quickly minimized all the irrelevant stuff and started a conversation with him.After around 10 minutes of the usual inquiries I drifted off to xkcd, with him at the back,asking questions that I was answering in some irrelevant order..Somewhere down the lane I lost the enthu to answer him and got immersed in xkcd.
He: Akka
Me: Mmm..
He: Akkaaa
Me: Mmm..
He: Akkkkaaaaaa..
Me: (Still) Mm..
He: Mmaatthh!!
Me: (Turning suddenly) What!? Where did u learn that?
He: I saw in that blinking box there (gtalk window)
Me: (Having got my theory that a 7 year old cant read/grab that much of English grossly disproved, I quickly minimized all the gtalk windows)..Yes da.Tell!
He: Can I ask you some riddle questions?
Me: (Oh! No! Its the damn riddles again!) Mm..Tell..(Got back to xkcd by then)
He: In which room, u cant get in?
Me: (Tried to think but gave up)..MM-Hmm..U tell me
He: Mushroom (glee!)
Me: Oh! (I was actually amused here.Its been bleddy long since I had heard jokes(?!) like this one)
He: 3 Men get into a small umbrella and tried to walk together. None of them got wet.Why?
Me: No rain?!
He: Yes (slightly put out)..Which key is very difficult to turn?
Me: (Not even listening).Mmm-hmm..
He: Donkey (glee again!)..Which is the dress you cant wear?
Me: (Having lost him wayy back)..U tell!
He: Address..
(silence as there was no reaction from me)
He: How can a girl keep the love of a guy?
Me: (Picking up girl and guy and henceforth rapidly turning) What??
He: How can a girl keep the love of a guy?
Me: (Actually thinking-not the answer but the wierdness that how the question is coming from him)..I dont know?(doubtful)
He: By not retuning it!
Me: (Actually laughing out loud)Who told you this?
He: My friend told me!!
Me: (Now Highly doubtful) What is your friend doing?
He: He is studying 2 nd standard
Me: (Speechless) Oh! (Whoa! inside head)
Moral:
1. Never underestimate the capacity of today's single digit age!
2. I guess I am getting old!
P.S: The whole conversation happened in English only. No translation was needed!
P^2.S: It was good since I dint have to ask the dude whether I could blog this :)
P^3.S: In case, the dude reads this blog after growing up, "No offense man! You are one of the brightest in the family circle :) "
An insanely bored interview candidate + 1.30 pm without lunch + clean conference room desk + a black white board marker = A blog post!
