A Kiss

Shrieking Still
Dark Night
Trial of will
And all his might

Frantic paces
Burning torture
His mind races
Heart in rapture

The stray twirl
The soft glance
Set him in a whirl
An eternal trance

She lay awake
Beads of sweat
A lot at stake
Desires whet

This is the moment
Of gain and loss
No time to lament
Fate’s own toss

He waits
She alights
Wolf cries
In the woods

He calls
She responds
A kiss






“Goodnight Papa”
She lies on her bed
A kiss
On her forehead

Dreams caress
Palls of slumber
Ruffling tresses
Sleep drowns her




The silent night
Wolf cries
In the woods
And he waits……

- The Lunatic Bard

Eyes opened..

There are things in life which can show you how big a fool you have been.. when realisation strikes, instinct devolops a shell to protect from further hurt and pain.. Seeking contentment in solitude... Becoming a rock of glass...

A song which I dedicate to myself ...

I am a Rock - Simon and Garfunkel

A winter’s day
In a deep and dark december;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the
streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
I’ve built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship;
friendship causes pain.
It’s laughter and it’s loving I
disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
Don’t talk of love,
But I’ve heard the words before;
It’s sleeping in my memory.
I won’t disturb the slumber of
feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have
cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within
my womb.
I touch no one and no one
touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

I am an Indian

Of late there has been a great amount of publicity for the neo-national spirit.
Movies like Rang – De –Basanti impacting the target audience in a profound manner. Just last week, I had a tea-break chat, with a friend of mine who has been pretty keen on advancing his education abroad. For all that I know of him, he was one chap who was very focused on his career beyond the shores of this country, and had a fairly well-planned strategy for achieving his goals. But what amused me was this guy who seemed so hell-bent on his dreams, was moved to the extent of reconsidering his choice, after watching a 3 hour flick. He went on to watch the movie a coupla times more, in different geographic locations as well. The dude joined an online fan group of the movie and was roused enough to start a blog and put up a review. I was amazed by the amount of influence a movie can have on a person.
Yet another acquaintance of mine made a similar career move and went on to work in the rural stretches of India, after being influenced by the movie Swades. As time and fate had it, he realized that he had burnt his fingers, and is right now considering a time-tested career path. But, nevertheless kudos to his courage to try and be different.
I haven’t seen either of the movies, and I am no authority on the quality of work in this form of art/expression. What these, movies have managed to do, is kindle the dormant desire in the youth of today, to make the difference.
Nationalistic fervor of yesteryears was something which needed a leader, and icon to inspire. But patriotism in today’s flat world has a different dimension, all together. Our youth force is as competent and ambitious as any other across the globe. People are no longer tied by stigmas and the economy seems to have empowered them with a sound financial backing. Knowledge has acquired fluidity throughout the lengths and breadths of the country and information travels faster than wind. Today’s men and women are able to think on their feet and have the guts to question tradition.
But, their apathy to take up the onus kept things at a stale-mate. And the ones that did take it up, didn’t (and still don’t) clearly know what they had taken up and what they were to encounter in their path. They don’t need a leader, they need a movement.
The system has become ridden with miscreants who look upon it as a never-ending mine of gold. Youth of today know what ruin these shenanigans had brought in their wake. They are well-armed in resisting the lure of moolah, and in keeping the system going ahead.
Its good to see that group of the best brains of the nation have launched a political party. But though they have been highly appreciated, much remains to be seen. Lets hope they aren’t just a bunch of charged up individuals, who after the pet project, (something that would end being an inconspicuous fine print in their resume), land up in some multi national biggie with a fat pay packet.

People who took on the system alone, sticking by their principles ended up resting their heads on soft earth, six feet down under. ( I am not including a hyperlink here, because I hope memories of such horror stay afresh and don’t need any recollection). This was a colossal set back to the bright starry eyed intelligentsia, which gets disillusioned when its brethren of excellent educational background, find not only their intellects but also their lives becoming feed to the political predators.

The will to stay on and make the difference is resident in each and every individual. Even the one’s that have chosen the escape route to greener pastures are likely to come back and do their part, once things start rolling. The system at hand, is filled with unimaginable filth. One or two idealistic rookies cant change the world over night. Before sowing the seeds of a new era, the weeds have to be cleared. A silent war needs to be waged. Somebody has to do the dirty work, someday. Why not we and why not today? Our children may not remember us for what we have done, but we shall go to our graves with our heads held high.

Sometime back, I had to stand in the queue in Chennai to reserve tickets for my impending train journey. There was a snag in the network and the queue started to build up. People were clinging on to their positions with all their might.
There was a slight commotion in the senior citizen’s counter. A mini-racket had taken shape. Some “young-at heart" man had started a debate and the rest of them were passionately getting into the ring. One particularly effervescent grey haired personality, who was the next to get to the counter, got up from his seat, walked all the way to the end of the line, to prove his point. From the bits of conversation that came wafting, I was able to conjure upon a vague picture of some civic issue that needed attention.

The senior citizens of Chennai have always been a very active lot. Anywhere they meet lackadaisical attitude, they will “write to THE HINDU”. They share their concerns in any scenario, be it the morning walk in the beach, the chance wait-together in the bank, the post-office and so on and so forth. Despite the rude remarks from the other end “ Ei Perusu, velaiya pathutu poga maata?” translated as “ Mind your business, old man”..
Perhaps they have seen more of life, or maybe since they have all the time in the world, and have come the full circle in their personal lives that they can now afford to digress and think of the society as well.

Why should anyone wait till their youngest daughter gets married and bears grandchildren to start thinking of their locality/society/city/state and the country?
Why cant we teach a little bit of social consciousness in our schools along with the novel ideas of educating them in the share market early on?

Heavy rock and other similar genre of music generally scores a hit with the rebel in everyone. A sense of liberation is can be experienced through music and words. Its time to realize the same kind of emancipation in action.

Every walk of life needs to be revolutionalised with a common ideal in mind, which is what the Government is ideally supposed to be doing.

Not too long ago, I had caught up with an old friend of mine. We were into the topic of philosophy, God, et al. He quoted some western schools, and their tenets to prove his point. I accept, without shame, that I am blissfully unaware of all such things. But one thing that disturbed me was the fact that even for philosophizing one needs to look upon the west. Why is anything and everything that’s oriental, considered backward and decadent? I fully appreciate a mingling of cultures, a seamless blend of the East and the west. But why don’t we accept if not appreciate our own, as an alternative? Is it because of the fact that familiarity breeds contempt?

These are just random thoughts which I thought I could pen down. In one of my previous blogs, I had posted a poem ("Dare I dream") on similar lines. Wonder why I keep doing an encore of writing on the need for action, without actually acting upon anything.. Sigh!, Afterall, I am Indian.

The Prey

Dead and Depressing
Numb under the oppressing
Insipid grayness
Rip up the layers
Reveal the masqueraders
Filth, decadent ignominy
Venom dipped in honey
Odium in forms so many
Beasts ready for the kill
Suck your blood, they will
But never enough to their fill
Wriggle under their clasp
Struggle to free their grasp
Flee, run and gasp
Trapped in their milling mob
Looted with nothing left to rob
Frozen without blood to throb
Remember, your lot is to feed
Their undying, perennial need
No soul would come to your heed.
The Lord’s design is thus,
So make never any fuss,
Die Living you mus’.

- The Lunatic Bard.

Dental Drama (Trauma?!!)

Let me begin with by saying, that when I plan to fail, I really don’t fail to plan. Having led a directionless life in the double decade and odd period for which I had known Mother Earth, it so appeared to me that it was high time I took charge of things. I gave my resolve a jump-start by planning a lot many things for the 4 days long holiday that I was to spend at home. High on the itinerary was an appointment with the dentist, which had been long pending. It was a follow-up visit for the treatment necessitated by an accident coupla months back. (If anyone cares to know about the mishap, do rummage through my earlier posts, to find an account filled with all the more-than-necessary-for-the-world-to-exist details. (Frankly speaking, I myself don’t have the patience to do so... (But that’s a secret between you and me ... (mums the word! (and yes, I am back to writing within brackets))))).
Now, if you are out of the brackets finally, let me come to the point. This follow up visit turned out to be blessed with immense procreation of its own kind. The follow up visit was followed by a follow-up for the follow-up visit, and that was succeeded by its own follow-up. The crux of the issue is, that I had complained of some faint pain in one of my affected teeth, (that was just to sound serious, because I really didn’t have any big complaints to report.) which made the dentist take an X-ray and discover a crack in some bone, which had stubbornly refused to heal. This induced the proliferation follow-ups, each one being more ridiculous than the previous, the nurse forgetting to replenish the stock of some pain-alleviating drug during one of those, and making things difficult for the rest of humanity. My mother, who would be waiting outside, would give a perpetually woeful look each time, once going to the extent of forcing the Doc explain the rationale behind all the excavation work going on inside my oral cavity. It is a very funny thing, finding yourself in a hapless condition, jaw wide open, all sorts of heinous instruments flashing their malicious metallic grin, the cacophony of the drill, and you left to salivate like a dog, with a vacuum pump sucking out the fluid and leaving u, not high but dry. The pain and the ignominy reach their pinnacle, only when the Doc says: “That’s it, we just have 10 more minutes to go, its going to hurt just a little bit”.. In this respect, the Dentist resembles God, timing the hardest blow perfectly when our spirits are soaring sky high...
I still have one more follow-up to go, but that has been safely pushed into the middle of February. But till then, whether or not I like it, mush is going to be my mantra. Perhaps, not for the heart, but unavoidably for the mouth.
Something out of my 10th Standard English book just floated into my head – a poem by
Ogden Nash. I have pasted it below. In case, you liked my post so far, you might like the poem as well, for our tastes may concur. Even if you didn’t, read it anyway, for all of us have teeth, and have to visit the one-who-must-be-feared someday or the other.




***This Is Going T o Hurt Just A Little Bit***

One thing I like less than most things is sitting in a dentist chair with
my mouth wide open.

And that I will never have to do it again is a hope that I am against
hope hopen.

Because some tortures are physical and some are mental,
But the one that is both is dental.
It is hard to be self-possessed
With your jaw digging into your chest.

So hard to retain your calm
When your fingernails are making serious alterations in your life line
or love line or some other important line in your palm;

So hard to give your usual effect of cheery benignity
When you know your position is one of the two or three in life
most lacking in dignity.

And your mouth is like a section of road that is being worked on.
And it is all cluttered up with stone crushers and concrete mixers and
drills and steam rollers and there isn't a nerve in your head that
you aren't being irked on.

Oh, some people are unfortunate enough to be strung up by thumbs.
And others have things done to their gums,
And your teeth are supposed to be being polished,
But you have reason to believe they are being demolished.
And the circumstance that adds most to your terror
Is that it's all done with a mirror,
Because the dentist may be a bear, or as the Romans used to say, only
they were referring to a feminine bear when they said it, an ursa,
But all the same how can you be sure when he takes his crowbar in one
hand and mirror in the other he won't get mixed up, the way you
do when you try to tie a bow tie with the aid of a mirror, and forget
that left is right and vice versa?

And then at last he says That will be all; but it isn't because he then
coats your mouth from cellar to roof
With something that I suspect is generally used to put a shine on a
horse's hoof.

And you totter to your feet and think. Well it's all over now and after
all it was only this once.
And he says come back in three monce.

And this, O Fate, is I think the most vicious circle that thou ever sentest,
That Man has to go continually to the dentist to keep his teeth in good
condition when the chief reason he wants his teeth in good condition
is so that he won't have to go to the dentist.

Written By: OGDEN NASH.

Mindsfull....

Lots of things happening in a short span of time can actually leave you overwhelmed.
It’s barely a fortnight into the New Year, and I have already been a part of a lot many significant events in my life. But one common thing about all my experiences in the last couple of weeks is that I have been a passive participant, though I have had privy to the necessary details, I have never been the protagonist.
I was in touch with a close friend who suffered a tragic loss, till the moment the sad news reached him. This did have a profound effect on me, on a subconscious level as well. It set me thinking on lines that left me numb, bereft of any further thought. If that was ebb, the crest of the wave soon came to wash me over with a new kind of joy. The sound of wedding bells chimed in happiness; when I came to know that one of my close friends is gonna tie the knot. Having seen her struggle through life’s hardships, this ray of sunlight in her life also bathed me in a new found moonlight. For the first time, I could see the reflection of another person’s sorrow and joy in my moods.
The following days brought in incidents of separation. Two of my closest roomies, had to leave on assignments overseas. Though I had known about this weeks earlier, the actual impact of it sank in only when she had left.. To be precise, only when one of my other roomies was moved to tears by the separation, did I realize that I too would miss her... Her idiosyncrasies, and all the late night chats, the games of badminton in a garbage dump, roaming the streets of Bangalore… And proving time and again how gullible I am, by buying her crazy stories… I didn’t know why, but I wanted to spend as much time with her before she left.
A year in a PG accommodation, has conditioned me to get along with people coming and people going.. There were times when I grew really close to people that I would wish their trip gets cancelled cos of some last minute mishap... But this time over, I felt a new kind of reaction. I didn’t experience that excruciating pain of longing, that white angst against the cruel hand of fate.. All I felt was a need to make best of what I had - the few moments left before the flight. I knew it was a great plus to her career, and I wholeheartedly wished all the best for her. And at the airport, when she hugged me, I really felt a weird sense of completeness, an uncanny fulfillment, which said my life has been embellished by this wonderful person, and wished that the feeling was mutual.
One separation followed the other, one more person with whom I felt close, also left, though this time, I wasn’t there in station when she flew, and Heaven be praised, she is going for a shorter term.
My interaction with humanity, elsewhere, also provided me with some enlightening insights. I started seeing things in a new light, perceiving dimensions which were erstwhile invisible. People removed layers of their masks revealing hitherto unseen countenances… Some hideous, some beautiful…Leaving me with lots of thoughts to mull over…. Besides giving a reason to expect new things from the same old faces..
A multitude of emotions and a myriad of thoughts can either cause complete clamor
, or can leave one in a state of unadulterated calm. Till now, I have had the joy of experiencing the latter. Hope the Equanimity prevails.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Forget what is bitter
Make the future sweeter
Take the best of the past
So pleasures may last
Keep your dreams high
Let them scale the sky
Taste the joy of victories
& the wisdom of failures
Cherish the moments
That you have lived
Cherish the moments
You still have to live!!

Happy New Year 2006!

Luv and Cheers,
The Lunatic Bard

At the end of Pandora’s Box….

I attended the mid night mass at St.Patrick’s, Bangalore, on Christmas Eve. Amidst the many words that kept me awake in those wee-hours, there was one that stood out … Love, compassion, duty, and so on and so forth…It set me thinking on these lines … One quality that mankind has been blessed with is Hope.
Hope holds the spirit of humanity up like a beacon, engulfing every drained soul with an invigorating radiance. Hope makes living a meaningful exercise. From the day we set foot on this earth, each one of us faces the inevitable- Death. Then what is it that gets us going? What is it that makes us dream, aspire, laugh and cry despite the cognizance of an end that’s just around the corner? What is it that makes mankind resurrect itself from the embers of destruction and rise like a Phoenix just to face another bout of calamity?

Everything must die, plants, insects, humans, civilizations, cultures, nations, earth, moon , The Sun and one day the Universe…Then why do we look ahead of our times, plan for a future thatmay not be?? What is it that makes Existence as certain as Death?? Its hope… Hope that a tomorrow exists even though today is uncertain. A hope that what goes up must come down. A light that flickers at the end of the tunnel…. Hope makes man acknowledge his Creator, and his own Self…


My ode to Hope:

Lonely streets Beckon
Winding roads ahead
Burdens of the soul
Weigh me down
Tears die unshed

Invisible chains
Cut my flesh
With weary feet
I trudge along
Scars of the past
Rip open afresh
Their strident din
Drowning my song

Lost in the surreal
Groping in vain
For a foothold
My sanity faces
A fatal trial
Truth chimes in silence
When it goes untold

Drifting shreds of flotsam
Futile sifting in the wrecks
Sinking to the deeps, I am
An inconspicuous speck………………




Black shadowed by White
A flashing glimpse of paradise
I bathe in sublime delight
Of the Bliss that’s worth the price.

-The Lunatic Bard

Manna from Earth!

As though it was a reply to my last post, I came across this good news through an intra-organisational group announcement today.. When millions like me feel the anguish and find their own means to express it, there are very few who actually make things happen. I dont know if I might be violating any legal or security related norms by publishing excerpts of the mail in this blog, but I simply couldnt resist the urge to share my rejuvenated belief in humanity with the rest of mankind.... Kudos to you, Mr. Venugopal!!

Signing Ceremony of Memorandum of Agreement between Ohio State University,Columbus and University of Agricultural Sciences,Dharwad

Venugopal Pinnamaneni, an engineer from our organisation (words edited here ) has been successful in establishing the collaboration between Ohio State University (OSU), Columbus, Ohio, USA and University of Agriculture Sciences (UAS), Dharwad, Karnataka, India. Coming from a farmer's family in North Karnataka, Venugopal had a penchant to assist the farming community. Upon seeing the opportunities galore in OSU, he initiated the talks with the professors of OSU and the Vice-Chancellor of UAS, Dharwad Dr. S.A. Patil. The Vice-Chancellor, Dr S A Patil, visited OSU, Columbus from 10-Dec-2005 to 15-Dec-2005 and signed the Memorandum of Agreement with Dr Hansen David, Associate Dean & Director-International Programs in Agriculture. This would enhance the research capabilities of UAS, Dharwad and bring in innovative technologies and solutions in Agriculture.

The response from OSU was very positive and Dr Larry Curtis Brown (Executive Director: Overholt Drainage Education and Research Program, International Program for Water Management in Agriculture) has agreed to do a research project in association with UAS, Dharwad on command area of Thungabhadra and Upper Krishna project which irrigates North Karnataka districts of Raichur, Bellary and Gulbarga. The objective of this project is to increase the water usage efficiency and to educate the farmers about better irrigation methods.

Going forward, many more projects will be executed in different areas of agriculture which will help farmers to reduce input cost and increase the productivity for better profits.

Train of Thought.....

I spent last weekend, in my hometown, the inundated coastal capital of Tamil Nadu, the land of enduring heritage. This epithetic phrase describing the state of my birth managed to catch my eye, when I was traveling alone on a day train to Chennai. I have seldom traveled on a day train, and alone, never. But, there are certain gains that traveling long distance on a train can provide. For instance, you have countless seconds to reflect upon your life. And then, if you are not the kind to feel uncomfortable about staring at your fellow passengers, and have absolutely no qualms at all about eavesdropping into the strains of conversation that come wafting through the confined atmosphere of the air-conditioned coach, then there’s a world of entertainment in store for you. The coach was half empty with just one person per each three-seater. There was this phirangi passenger who was indianised enough to choose “The Hindu” over the “The Times of India”, and got into my better books by this act of prudent discretion. Then there was this other person, tall and well built, so tall that I can now recollect the buttons of his shirt better than his face *. He boarded the train at Bangalore Cantonment and was such a nervous wreck by then, that he gulped down 1 liter of water in a fraction of a second. Jittery though, his maneuvers were swift enough to produce two more bottles of equal volume from his wondrously spacious backpack. This person too, got into my good books, by virtue of his preparedness**. From now on, I will refer to them as Messer’s Desi Foreigner (D.F) and Super Hyper (S.H) respectively. S.H was so vertically endowed that he was having a tough time, trying to ape my dexterity in fitting myself into a cozy position and dozing off. His long legs kept hitting the tea-tray, and I could feel the ripples of jealousy emanating from the other end of the coach. Self-satisfied at my upper hand, I presently slipped into a pleasant siesta. Meanwhile, D.F was poring over each ever printed space of The Hindu, dated December 9,2005, printed at Bangalore, India. Till about mid-noon, D.F was kept occupied by the stories that The Hindu published, S.H by his hyper active antics and futile fight with the tea-tray, and yours truly, by day dreams accompanied by “Strings” strumming “Duur” through the walkman. About mid-noon, S.H and D.F had some how struck a rapport at the restroom, and came storming into the coach, actively engaged in an animated conversation. Weird is the modus operandi which men use to make acquaintances. We, womenfolk would never comprehend the stratagem that unfolds in a restroom, or over a puff of fag.
My eavesdropping instincts aroused by this flurry of activity in the sonic realm, began focusing on just this dialogue, filtering out the household chatter of the old couple behind me. I happened to gather that D.F was a traveler of sorts, attracted by the mystic east, exploring Japan, the Far East and now India in search of the truths of life and beyond. He was going to Chennai for some event organized by Jiddu Krishnamurthy (J.K) foundation, and was concerned about the Fanoos stirring gruel in the Bay of Bengal. S.H, happened to be a I.T professional, who had traveled the west, on account of “On-Site” trips and was very much a Chennaiite in his phony accent. The conversation took a philosophical bend, when S.H pronounced that “If you have to endure the cyclone, you will have to, whether its close to Chennai or Nagapattinam”.. They went on to discuss about science, pseudo science, metaphysical fields, their equations, Japanese philosophy, The Shiva lingam, its significance, The form of Nataraja.. so on and so forth.. What made it compelling to listen to was that D.F was arguing on the side of metaphysics and spirituality while S.H was insisting on the power of science.. S.H got agitated at points, as all Chennai ites do when they argue, and D.F had to patiently pull him back on track with a demure “Lets discuss one thing at a time”.. Yours truly, had to lie low in the seat, ears conked up like two tiny antennae, to avoid being heard chuckling.. It was first-class entertainment, till this happened…

S.H: “Man hasn’t changed since his conception. The basic genome remains the same. Science has ample proof to this”.
D.F: (Blank)
Yours truly: (Stifling a giggle, mutters) “These phirangis look really blank when they are blank; their white skin looks bleached…at least we can pretend to be thinking of the next law of gravity.”
D.F: (Still Blank)
S.H: (Triumphant) “ Science and argument can prove or disprove anything”. “If it isn’t capable of that, then it is pseudo-science”.
D.F: (Still Blank)
Yours truly: (Thumping a fist in the air) “Now come on D.F, buck up, this has to be countered...”
D.F: (The light returning to his eyes, says in all bluntness) “I don’t believe that”
Yours truly: (Turning Back) Heeeehhhaaa hheeee haaaa heee haaa.. (Girls can giggle at anything)
D.F and S.H : (Glare in unison).
Yours truly: (Turning red, rushes out to the restroom).
Curtains Down.
After this fiasco, I dutifully shifted from the aisle seat, and started looking out of the window. The train was in Tamil Nadu, and for a change, bridges here seemed to serve a purpose, the ravines and rivulets actually carrying water. The recent rains had caused a sudden spurt of greenery and window presented a verdant panorama. It was twilight, and the setting sun, was bidding a goodbye to the flora. They were raising their heads in turn as a last salute to the provider of nourishment and life. As the train swept past the wilderness, paddy fields came into view. Flooded beyond recognition by the cyclone’s fury, head-heavy rice plants were floating as debris in rain water. Farmers working in the not-so-affected fileds, while those in the mini-lakes sitting over the now useless bunds with drooping heads, and heavy heart. “Why, oh lord, why this injustice..” Wanted to lash out at humanity.. “When the plants can thank and reverie their nourisher, why not we”.. Every walk of life thrives on the sweat of these men, and yet they suffer.. Every body’s job ultimately earns money.. Money to feed your mouth, money to satiate your gluttony, while the one who actually toils to feed your tummy, is driven to commit suicide.. Where would you earn your bread when there is no bread to sell??
I heard S.H harping “India isn’t like before, lots of foreign investment is flowing in, the economy is becoming very very techno-dependent”… I felt a white anger seething under my skin… why are we hell-bent on getting rid of the agro-based tag?? Is it an albatross strung around the country’s neck?? If all of us want a white collar job, refuse to put our feet into the muddy fields, what use would all the gold as foreign exchange be of?? Why do farming families migrate to the cities, why is there a mass exodus?? Why cant a farmer go to sleep peacefully at night, if his son happens to show interest in pursuing his profession?? Their livelihood is inherently vulnerable to the hands of fate and the whims of the skies. Why doesn’t anyone even bother to alleviate their burden, modernize their processes, and improve their lot?? Why is so much invested in Six Sigma, Lean management, and process enhancements when people have to bleed their lives to feed you?
Experimenting entrepreneurs are devising ways to tap the rural market for mobile phones.. The Government is trying to regulate the profit the corporates would make by exploiting the exploited.. Why did we stop with the Green revolution and the white revolution.. why didn’t we progress beyond that??
While I was charged up with such thoughts, the old man behind me yelled “ Arey Baarissss..” in typically accented Hindi.. It was drizzling outside.. I had imagined the wet sight was due to the impotent tears that could ve possibly welled up in my eyes at the plight of the bread-breeders of the nation…
S.H and D.F were exchanging phone numbers and e-mail ids.. S.H was suggesting some books on http://www.amazon.com/ to D.F. D.F was sincerely noting them down. D.F saying something about he being a zoologist and his research in the Savanaahs.. S.H using the chance to refresh his high school geography…
Yours truly calling up her daddy, asking whether he had reached the railway station to receive her, giving minute by minute updates on her location as the train approached Chennai.. The smells of the city obliterating the perfume of the villages left behind.. D.F and S.H back to discussing the rain.., S.H advising D.F to postpone his return journey in case there are floods.. Yours truly getting nervous and calling up daddy dear to hear of Fanoos’ fancies.. The train reaches Chennai.
And Life goes on…

Notes:
* : Not that its worth mentioning, but I happen to be just short of being a midget. But that is an achievement when your mom is less than 5 feet and your dad just above five.
**: was appreciating S.H’s preparedness, cos I myself forgot to bring water from home and had to be finicky*** about the bottled water that Southern Railways provided.
***: finicky ness courtesy: The Tamil movie Anniyan.

Shades of Similarity…

Buildings mushroom overnight in the IT capital of India. One such edifice was taking shape in the street where I live. The construction activity was in full swing, contract laborers being hired from the neighboring border villages. Temporary settlements had sprung up for accommodating these people and their families. Most of them speak a dialect of my mother tongue, Tamil, coming from the villages near Hosur, on the Karnataka – Tamil Nadu state border. Yearning to hear the twang of Tamil isn’t something strange when you live amidst people who either don’t speak the language or prefer the Anglican medium of the corporate world to express themselves. I generally satiate my hunger for my mother tongue by gaping at those who happen to speak it. Listening to a stray conversation in your mother tongue in an alien land, can be an exhilarating experience. That being a separate issue let me get to the point. These new tenements and their inhabitants presently revealed some very intriguing ironies. I have tried putting them down in a certain format...

1. Enjoy the great outdoors.. Barbeque bonanza.. Cook your cuisine in the open…

Read all this in one of the hoardings on the infamous Hosur road, forced to memorize them as a pastime in the no-one-can-escape-me jams. A nice way to plan a weekend to savor the world outside your cubicle...

That very evening I chanced upon my lingual compatriots cooking a delicious smelling kozhambu in an open pan on the streets, the scent of the boiling broth wafting through the chilly evening air, a heavenly delight... Urchins laying a dinner table, under the star spangled firmament... A teenage twosome having a moon light dinner… Who needs candle light to romanticize the air when the biggest candle in the Universe shines upon your loved one’s head...

2. Streak your hair, Great hair color for that great new look... Do away with dull boring black hair…

Had the kismet of following a hip young woman with copper streaked straight hair walking like a trapeze artist atop a high heeled shoe.. Another identical head bobs up and down beside her, with almost the same coloration.. Probably hued bronze instead of copper… Pestering our red riding hood, sorry red riding head, to adorn her locks with a few fragrant jasmines… Losing interest in the peddling and the rebuttals, I fixed my attention on the craniums of the two females.. The shorter form fascinated me, achieving the same hairdo at a lesser price.., in fact no price at all… it’s the lack of funds for hair care products, vis-à-vis a decent shampoo and some ounces of coconut oil that worked the magic… Hair dressers of the world should marvel at this master stroke woven by scarcity!!..

3. Work out.. Sweat your self out at the Gym.. For those great muscles.. Flex your biceps for the chicks to flock…

I have this habit of looking at my feet trying to count the cells of the cuticles when I walk alone on the street.. On one such occasion, I happened to look up… Was confronted with sight of three tall, dark well built men, in overalls smeared with distemper..

Was tempted to wolf whistle when they rolled up their sleeves to pick up a ladder…
Man, these guys get paid for working out!! Lucky souls!!.. Don’t have to dish out the bucks from their wallet for sweating their hearts out.. Don’t have to schedule and re-schedule work to fit the gym slot in… Glorious muscles are all in a day’s work for these fellas… What a perk to enjoy with your job…


Disclaimer:
My attempt at putting forth the paradox may have been slightly blunt and out of punch, because right now I am kind of grappling with a perennially pre-occupied mind.. Nevertheless as long as the ironies find their target audience, it is mission accomplished for me.

Just Think About It!!

What if we could read each other’s thoughts? Like the thought clouds that top people’s heads in comic strips... A scary and catastrophic line of thought… ahem... pun’s unintended. A funny prospective if taken in a lighter vein...

I was mulling over this after I gave the first conscious artificial smile of my life today. Saw someone and grinned heartily while muttering under my breath “what a jackass!!”...

The corporate world would be one hell of a circus, (not that it’s any better now...) if thought bubbles started emanating from everyone’s head. Cos the work place is where one encounters sweet caramel coated smiles as often as one inhales. And the probability of most of them being genuine is accurately zilch. Take for instance the silent skirmishes between the in-laws of a big family; all hell would break loose if thoughts were to buzz around like mosquitoes… Imagine the tradition worn cushion supported political discussions on coalition conundrums, if the criss-crossing thought arrows did make their mark, wouldn’t it mean chaos manifold, than what it already is?
Masters behind the camera have often toyed with this possibility, movies being made on men reading the thoughts of the fairer sex, and people being able to comprehend the language and thoughts of animals... Invariably they became being hard to resist rib ticklers.

I once had a conversation that was exhausting, literally and metaphorically, with a friend on how everyone’s thoughts travel in the form of waves. These metaphysical undulations send vibes about one’s personality even before the first words come out. The positive aura that surrounds someone, or the inexplicable prejudice you might harbor on someone else, all find a near plausible theorization in this.

There is one fable in ancient India that is an allusion to this hypothesis. There was once a righteous and just king who was of the habit of doing rounds of his Kingdom, masquerading as a commoner, in the shelter of the night. His wise and able minister unfailingly accompanied him on such nocturnal visits. On one such occasion, the King chanced upon a man sitting under a lamp post deep in thought. The King was troubled by incomprehensible ill-feelings for this complete stranger. Disturbed, he confided in his minister. The minister bought some time from the King to investigate into the matter.
The very next day, the minister put forth a proposal to buy a lot of sandalwood furniture and other articles of sandalwood for the Palace. Though baffled by this sudden scheme, the King approved it, out of his inane trust in his aide. A month or so passed. The King again chanced to run into this strange man on his nightly visit. This time, he had equally perplexing tender thoughts about him. Absolutely confused, he sought his minister’s counsel. The minister’s explanation was thus:
“My Lord, the stranger who had vexed you to such an extent, is a sandalwood merchant. When you first set your eyes upon him, his business was in doldrums. He was ardently praying that you should die, so that he could sell his ware to cremate your body. Who else, in this nation would use sandalwood for cremation?? So naturally, his negative thoughts sowed seeds of hatred in your mind. I investigated this, and placed that bulk order for sandal wood in his shop for all the articles we had planned to procure, for the Palace. This caused his business to boost, and not a day passed in this man’s life without singing your praises, and wishing for your longevity, so that he would get more orders from the Palace. And that explains the pleasant thoughts that filled your mind when you chanced upon him the second time.”

Our thoughts are not only ours to claim. They influence our lives as well as others. Agreeable feelings and thoughts not only guarantee our peace, but also make a better place of our surroundings.

My once alarmingly long hate list has now become almost vacant, once I started applying this tenet to my daily life. It does take time and patience to deploy such an utopian stratagem, but it is definitely worth the pains in the long run.

A Price-less gift for my priceless little girl

The recent policy of the CBSE to provide free education for 'single girl child' , in all affiliated schools across the country has once again proved to the world that India is condemned to have buffoons at the helm of affairs.

The rationale behind the policy being imbibed in the affiliation requirements is evanescent. Practical issues have not been considered, and the whole imbroglio appears to be the brainchild of well-bred high socialite kitty party banter. Educationists need not be theorists always; issues in the implementation of such ludicrous legislation should have struck any sane human.

Rather than waive the tuition fees et al, the number of scholarships could have been increased. If the girl child need be given any privilege, then some these aids could be made female-specific. A complete waiver with no reason except that of gender seems ridiculous. The glaring fallacy in this amendment is that girls with siblings, of the female gender get a 50% waiver; where as ones blessed with no sisters get a 100% discount. Is this a well-disguised population control measure? If so, it seems mighty contrived and round about.

Being a single girl child myself and having done 14 years of schooling under the Central Board, I very well know how many of the ‘single girl children’ in the flourishing private schools are actually in need of such a concession. If I may make an approximate demographic statement, I would say that most of the ‘single girl children’ are from pretty affluent families. If that is not the case, at least they are from families who don’t mind investing in their only daughter’s education.

Any educational aid, world over, since time immemorial has been on a “merit” or “means” basis. If at all, there are some regions in the nation where education for the girl child needs a fillip badly, then policy that is geographically specific ought to be framed. It would also be prudent to implement provisions conducive to female students in aided and government schools which the statistics show have more of needy students, and are more wide spread in the rural areas. No such thought seems to have gone behind this utopian drive.

Popular schools that cater to the bourgeoisie of the society are now worried about the reduction in their income, and are planning to shift to other boards to maintain their cash flow. The chief cause of their anxiety is that they would now lose out on the creamy, ‘can-afford-to-pay-our-daylight-robbery-fees’ students, and the dilution or rather corruption of their “class” students by the “government school” ones. A reasonable apprehension, if quality is to be maintained, don’t you think?
I am the daughter of a CBSE school teacher. A light tea time discussion with my mom, threw light on some of the funny aspects of the new directive. One very logical concern of mine is, if a girl child is single now, how long will she be single? What if the heavens destine her with a little baby brother or sister? Would she curse her luck, and pray for a “baby-for-puppy” exchange offer next festival season? Some of my school time buddies had siblings when they were in middle school, very much into their teens. Would it be so that they shun their parents’ bundle of joy for usurping their free education? One is left absolutely clueless when faced with such doubts.
My mom put forth a very interesting situation she encountered when she was listing down the names of the ‘single girl’ students in her class.
This particular student was the only child for her mother, who happens to have married her father after the demise of his first wife. The first wife had left in her wake, two issues who now become her half-siblings. This pupil bowled my mom a googly, “Ma’m, I am a single girl for my mother, but I am not a single girl for my father, am I eligible for this scholarship or not?” Doesn’t it sound more like one of the Vikram-Vethal riddles?

The Policy-makers sitting snug in their discussion rooms, sipping chaai and nibbling biscuits, what is your answer to her question?

My Sleeping Secrets

More on sleepy matters…

I had the chance to discover the following eccentricities about my sleeping habits.

If I am really sleepy these are what I do, arranged ascending order of probability
1. I get groggy and begin to whine
2. Become extremely rude and uncouth and mouth profanities of the highest order
3. Drop down dead and doze off, with ultimate disregard for my surroundings, snoring sonorously.
Heaven on earth: The satisfaction of a good night’s sleep.



My 5 cents on the best ways to sleep in a moving bus:
1. Sleep to your right, if the left side of your neck develops a crick.
2. Sleep to your left, if there’s a crick in your right side.
3. Sleep with your head down, chin touching your chest, if your neck turns stiff, 270 degrees.
4. Try pushing the seat back, if you figure out how, and if your clothes don’t stick to your back from sweat between your skin and the upholstery.
5. Cushion your head with a pillow made out of your palm. If they hurt from the weight of all the crap inside your head, forget it, cos a surgery to excavate all the crap is too much of a bother.
6. Cross your leg for that stylish and debonair siesta, and if you wanna carry home an awkward limp as a bonus.
Inspiration: A particularly uncomfortable journey to Thirupathi on an AP Tourism board bus.



The semi sleepy state:

1. Have you ever experienced wakeful sleeping? Not the one you drift into when someone goes on and on about something you care a damn about, or the dazed condition afflicting the first benchers of a singularly boring lecture in college. Its something that’s been happening to me on and off.. It’s a state that I drift off to at the snap of someone’s fingers.. Not to be confused with the hypnotic control of a handsome hunk. The activity around you could be something of utmost interest, but still your mind goes blank. A sort of lull creeps in and you simply refuse to think.

2. Another variant of the semi sleepy state, a rather sinister version occurs when I go to bed way past midnight. A few precious hours before daybreak are all you get, and your body attunes itself to make the most out of it. But every time I slip into such a deep slumber, something dreadful happens, I struggle to get up, pushing the air around me, kicking my limbs in all directions, silent screams lost in space.. And I wake up, only to find that I m still struggling to wake up.. And so I battle through the different layers, waging a never ending war against sleep. Then I grow tired and give up the fight, still groping along the saturnine walls of my mind for a wormhole to wakefulness, materializing out of nowhere.. Desperate and mortified, I pray to the heavens above… Chanting the lord’s name.. And that’s when I wake up, gratified to find myself on my bed, the sheets perfectly starched and tucked in, my hands up, fingers securely locked under my head, completely no sign of trouble whatsoever.

In case, anyone’s had similar experiences, this might throw some light::

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hypnagogia

A gist of it:

Hypnagogia (also spelled hypnogogia) and hypnopompia are the names of experiences a person can go through when falling asleep in the case of hypnagogia, or waking up, in the case of hypnopompia. When in a hypnagogic or hypnopompic state a person can have lifelike auditory, visual, or tactile hallucinations (known as hypnagogic hallucinations), perhaps even accompanied by full body paralysis. The individual is aware that these are hallucinations; the frightening part, in many cases, is the inability to react to them, even being unable to make a sound.

Sleepless Beauty

There are some things in life that afflict you every now and then. They go as mysteriously as they come.. One such thing that has been a part of my life is sleeplessness. There are times which garner significance when I look back, but which innocently clothe themselves as ordinary days and nights when they occur. Uncannily these times in my life have unfailingly been characterized by one malady..Insomnia.. It’s when forty winks seem formidable.

Counting up to 1000 and backwards, cooking up racy romantic novels in your head, humming your favorite tunes, chanting, cursing your nemesis under your breath, watching utterly mindless late night shows on TV, listening to Mannade,S.D Burman and other lullabying numbers, trying to snuff yourself up with a pillow pressed on to your face, tossing and turning enough to cause a tectonic imbalance, trying to plan for the next day, working out sudoku and the daily crosswords, meditating… nothing seems to help.
By the time you’re barely asleep, the Sun shines through your window and the hum drum of another day tearing into your blissful state.
Days pass in this manner. Eyes burn, bleary and tired. A chance siesta in the day, can never make up for the lost sleep in the soothing caress of nocturnal darkness. This goes on till you reach a stage where you would start whining like a kid, kicking your limbs around.
And then it all stops..
Yesterday was one such blessed day. After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling, peering through the dark, blocking all thought from the mind, mesmerized by the whirring sound of the decades old fan, the heavy curtains above my windows to the outside world come down, palling my consciousness, fantastic figures forming inside my mind’s eye…

An eagle, a talisman, an eagle in a talisman, Nnno.. Not an eagle, a pigeon, No.. Not a pigeon a dove.. a dove that flaps its wings and takes off, tearing open the tablet…. Skies.. Blue, white, crimson, beige and mauve… Gold brocade fluttering around the landscape… A hole in the firmament, and me falling upwards, defying terrestrial laws of gravity.
Free wheeling vertically…..

And I woke up at 12.00 noon today.

Blitzkrieg!

Before I say anything else, there’s some good news for the world.. there aint gonna be a sequel to the Poxy Chicks.. But that’s not the end of this post..
Just when I was anxiously nearing the feared 15 day period, without any trace of the pox, I met with an accident. It was a wet Thursday morning. Rain-washed, never been tarred roads of Bangalore. Having had a tougher than normal fight to suppress my usual early morning urge to flee the world, I had run late. All my dear roomies, barring S.T had left by the 7.30 am bus to work. S.T had a day off that day, and was snoring away to glory. Envying her, I made a dash, a slip, and a slither on the slush-worn streets to the bus stop.
Congratulating myself for keeping up my tradition of running late for a late bus, I settled down in my favorite corner in the last seat with a book and Radio City reverberating in my auditory canal. I was replying to a very heart warming good morning sms sent by a friend, when there was a sudden thrust forward, and a taste of cool metal in mouth. I was still struggling with my bag, book , radio and mobile, when a blood curdling howl brought it to my senses that there has been an accident. Quickly erasing my “thank u wish u the same” reply, I sent a frantic SOS to my friend. Not all of us were hurt, so going by my usual record of coming out unscathed out of any mishap, I forgot all about the burning sensation in my mouth, and was watching the fainting women being helped out of the bus. Its when I removed my dupatta from my mouth that I observed out a red dupatta goes better with my green salwar suit than a white one. Someone in the unhurt luckies had spotted another bus to work, and there was a mad rush to the exit, people examining the damage to their laptops, leaving their bloodied misshapen colleagues gape in shock and wonder at the resilience of humanity. The hurt ones had to help themselves, someone being sharp enough to spot a polyclinic on that sub-urban highway. Women, in particular, were throwing substantial tantrum to create panic even amongst the dazed, petrified ones like me. I messaged the bosses, and some of my roomies.

One woman, who had swooned at the sight of her own blood and fallen teeth, topped all decibel levels and ended up conjuring a wheeze out of thin air. All sorts of fraternity came to fore, lingual, official, and “she was sitting next to me in the bus” , and people wanted medical attention then and there, for their friends and commorades as well, leaving lonesome rangers like me in the lurch. There was one woman, who demanded that an X ray be taken in that rural hospital. While all of us had managed to hurt our jaw, this petite beauty had magically elongated her torso to hurt her neck. It was after all this that a Doctor got to see me and declared a torn upper lip and treated it with absorbent sutures, by which time through some extremely efficient piece of networking S.T had arrived like an angel in blue ( she was wearing a blue sweater) with my landlord at her heels. S.T being an ex-employee of our firm knew one of the hurt guys, and together they summoned the transport authorities who arrived promptly just to hush us all up about the absconding driver. We were taken to a “Bigger” hospital, our petite beauty and her “friends” clambering on to the ambulance as though it was a pleasure trip that we were going on.

My landlord and S.T took me in their car, following the ambulance. The emergency ward on the “Big” hospital was teeming with activity, with the Miss Petite making herself comfortable in one of the 4 beds. The company bearing the expenses, every specialist was summoned except the dentist. I complained of a slight pain in my leg, and Lo!, there appeared an orthopedic surgeon, who with the aid of a leg Xray , gave me a bandage, pain killers and an elaborate list of dos and donts. A CT scan was taken for all of us, even the ones who managed to get to office by the next bus, came back to get it done, just to be on the safer side, and ofcourse, it was all for free.. S.T was handling my calls, and my friends were asking for second by second updates.. Poor S.T.. I owe you a lot, mate.. My last sensible sentence was “ Whew, S.T, I ve got something for my blog!!”, after which my lip started assuming monstrous dimensions and making my speech sound as non-sensical as it actually is. We finally got to see a dentist, who examined me with all enthusiasm. He sent us off on a wild goose chase to get a “special” Xray done which wasn’t available in the “Big” hospital. Must thank my landlord here, if it wasn’t for him, we wud be haggling with the uncouth auto drivers, in the incessant rain.
Seeing ladies with missing teeth, I was thanking god for keeping mine in place.Atleast. That’s when the dear dentist had to drop it in dramatically “ Of all the victims of the accident..(Pause here for effect), you are the one who has …(pause again). Me and S.T had silently chorused in our minds “had a minor injury”, when the dentist completed his sentence with “had a pretty ugly blow”. He sent us off with a “Come again on Saturday”.

We were happy to leave, it was already 4.00pm and S.T had started whining. I felt delicate for having dragged along and spoiling her day off. But S.T is truly an angel in blue, she then realized that I hadn’t had any grub since morning and ran to get me a chocolate, which tasted like manna from heaven. We went home to be welcomed by a stark naked, stripped to the skin Babe. Before u have wild thoughts, I must add, that the Chick happens to be a slightly less than a year and half old, and my landlord’s baby gal. Absolutely stunned by my disfigured countenance ,magnified lips with a piece of suture sticking out, and a gauze bandage on my leg and the limp caused by it, Madam P (as she likes us to call her), didn’t follow me upstairs, hollering to be carried for the first time in her life.
Only when I went for lunch did I realize that I couldn’t put a morsel in without pain. Started eating grain by grain. Called up folks, let them know of the day’s adventures. Dad throwing a tantrum as usual, mom in tears. Filled up the other gals on the days events, not being able to cast my dazzling smile at their friendly banter, I developed a guttural sound, that could pass off as an ogre’s laughter. Talk of adopting to one’s handicaps..

Another day went by, in a similar fashion, the lip swelling further and the teeth growing painful, and some official calls. Didn’t know that F.P (the good morning sms frnd ) and A.I (not artificial intelligence, but a friend from college days) cancelled their tickets home to help me on Sat.

Saturday was fun. F.P and A.I bidding fiercely for the privilege of escorting Princess S, (yours truly, ofcourse!!) to the hospital. F.P won the bid, on a slight margin. But F.P couldn’t make eye contact, cos to meet the eye one had to see the face, and if u see the face u see the lip as well. Had lunch with F.P, ordered anything and everything that was gooey and mushy, and didn’t need much of chewing. Went to the dentist in the big hospital. Was treated with the rude shock that the company stopped financing the treatment. Still couldn’t bear the pain. The dentist appeared like Dr.Jekyll, metamorphosing into Mr.Hyde when he said that my teeth were dead and were already discoloring. Managed to scare me enough to agree to a rct on four teeth, when only 2 were hurting, charging 2 grand per tooth plus a 5 grand per tooth for the cap, besides 5 sittings, each costing 300 bucks. Paid him an advance for 2 teeth and scrammed out of the “Big” hospital swearing solemnly to God never to set foot in there again.

When the anesthesia wore out, the unnecessary drilling claimed its toll. Shooting pain that brought involuntary tears disturbed my sleep. Troubled a few friends and blew up a 100 bucks sms ing all night, narrating my tale of woe to all and sundry.
Called up Momma, and made her gossip to beat the pain. Gossip is a great medicine for gals. A grandma’s panacea, grapevine works better than red wine.
But, all time ticked, the pain aggravated, couldn’t even eat the mushy gooey hogwash that I was eating, S.T to the rescue again, got me juice from the next door shop. S.T and the other gals in the P.G, A.I and F.P pushed me to give up my ego and call pop.
Me succumbed to their push, called pop, ran to daddy’s arms, caught the Shatabdi, and landed in dear old Chennai, the very same night. Momma waiting with kanji and more gooey broth. Went to the family dentist, who, with all professional diplomacy gently put it that the rct for the other 2 teeth neednt have been done, with the swollen lip complicating all diagnosis.
Manager turned out to be mildly sweet for sometime, and granted leave till the end of the treatment. Collegues calling to inquire , phone bill shooting sky high on roaming. Friends in Chennai pouring in to see how I am, some cheering me up, some breaking into tears seeing my “beautiful” garishly misshapen.. ( I am entitled to literary exaggerations!!, at times..). Mom getting anxious over the ‘evil eye’ factor and heeding to all means of the occult to counter the same.
Looking at myself in the mirror and getting scared became an amusing past time, with swelling going down and the skin peeling. Scared my maid by chasing her with a piece of skin hanging from my lip, suture sticking out. Was grossly disappointed when it fell off in the middle of one such scaring session.
When I was ready to go back to Banglore, strategically timing it so that I can return for the Diwali hols, it rained cats and dogs flooding the IT capital of the country.. Friends and well wishers started calling again, thinking that I was in Bangalore, Phone bill tearing open the stratosphere, on roaming again. But I was overwhelmed at all the concern, moved to the brink of my stoic stance against anything sentimental. My train got cancelled. It was tough to get another ticket in short notice. Was secretly happy, inspite of exterior agitation.
When things got ok in Banglore, it started raining crows and buffaloes in Chennai. Trees falling, roads flooding, trains and flights cancelled again.

So here I am, celebrating Diwali, trying out cooking, burning my fingers and burning some food as well, Dishing out rock-hard gulab jamuns, hoping against hope that they get soft , succulent and even palatable if left undisturbed in the sugar syrup, guarding it with my life against my Dad’s gluttony. And wondering if that pain in the nose needs a nasal specialist.

P.S:
Amidst all this, I began to have bouts of philosophical thought, especially in the bathroom, when I found it difficult to brush or wash my face. However hard I tried to cry out loud to the Lord up above “Why me??” I couldn’t. It always came out as “Thank God, for all that has been left unhurt”. And ofcourse, got to realize that I am surrounded by more nice people than I thought.

Note:
All this happened a fortnight ago. I wanted to recollect, and structure my thoughts, the sequence of events, their implications before I could record them. I didn’t want to include too much detail, nor did I want to leave out anything that happened. Hope justice has been done on both accounts..
Naaahh… I was simply too lazy to write it all. As simple as that.

Poxy Chicks

Its been a while since I chronicled the ups and downs of my life. Probably they were too mundane, or perhaps a wee bit precious to be open to the public eye. But nevertheless, the recent happenings that would make the headlines of my journal don’t necessarily classify under insipid ramblings.

Without further ado, let me get to the crux of the issue. The thing is , one of my roomies contracted chicken pox over the weekend. Living in Banglore’s tell tale pigeon hole PGs , hasn’t been a matter of consolation for the rest of us. Of the ten in the house, it so happens that I am the only one who hasn’t had a bout of the ailment before. Having spent the crucial 3 days of the disease’s onset with her, worsens my predicament.

Though she was put on a flight back home, it was all hulla bullo in the house. The room was disinfected, we bathed in dettol and margo, the bitter tasting neem soap (taste!!, now when did I start swallowing soap??) , our sheets and blankets given to the Dhobi.
Someone suggests a homeopathic medicine in lieu of a vaccine, and people rush in all directions to procure the same.

Two of us being the immediate contacts of the infected, panicked the most when that howler of an e-mail bearing the bad news came. Trying our luck with the health center in office, and making fools of ourselves with the broken kannada that we know, we thought it prudent to brave the showers and go to a hospital.

Not willing to take risks, we decided it best to visit one of the city’s posh and renowned hospitals. Taken for a ride, literally and metaphorically we reached the hospital, only to be hopelessly mis-directed in the maze of OPDs, DMOs, and Receptionists, enquiry, physicians…. The medical jargon can have you flabbergasted at an hour of need. Frustrated at having done multiple rounds of the humungous edifice, we settled for a scale down. From renowned medical care, we entrusted ourselves to lesser known multi-specialty health service. Waiting for what seemed to be eons, marveling at the mind boggling ineptitude of the receptionists, we finally got to have a tête-à-tête with a youngish looking doctor. I have this prejudice against young doctors, ever since one jammed a needle into my skin that couldn’t be removed without a minor surgery. But this lady seemed courteous. Though she didn’t tell me anything optimistic, one good thing she did was to help me accept my situation and know the facts and be prepared.

Haven’t had such an eventful day in ages.. Although got to know the flip side of things when a particular person with whom I have had a decent enough rapport, curtly refused to have anything to do with me… She just fell short of demanding that I should be quarantined. I do understand her rationale if she was as vulnerable as me, but she has already contracted the disease and developed immunity. Nevertheless, paranoia does make people act strangely.

Having to accept reality and taking it in the stride, enjoying a seemingly bleak situation, I guess all this does have an impact on my outlook to life. I know I should be worried, but however hard I try, I m not able to manage anything more than a stupid-looking brooding countenance. Yesterday I ended up entertaining my colleagues by throwing a tantrum at an imaginary itch and they goaded me to embarrassment with their jibes. Of late, I ve even been planning a long vacation home if at all I contract the pox, which would in all likelihood coincide with the festival holidays up ahead. Right now contemplating about starting all PG (paying guest) band and calling ourselves the “Poxy Chicks”.

Just crossing fingers that I shouldn’t have any scars, at the end of it all, for it would send my mom on an endless lament regarding my value in the marriage market..

As a matter of fact, the whole thing is weirdly exciting, waiting with bated breath for that notorious boil, scrubbing vigorously behind the ears ( which I unfailingly forget to do) while I bathe, touching my forehead every now and then.. I never knew I could amuse myself so much till now…

Not an auspicious thing to start my blog with.. Still, I thought I should write about it all..

So folks, until that 15 day gestation period for the virus is done with, the suspense stays!!
See you all again with a sequel to the Poxy Chicks….







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Blogger Perforce!!

Well.. I already have mulitple blogs, stayin dormant for days.. But, thanks to blogspot, i hav added one more to my kitty.. Forcin me to start one, when i wanted to post a comment in a particularly intrestin blog...

Lets see if this one is doomed to dormancy or not...

Chao.. Bye for now!!