The finger

I did not turn my head around! Through the rear-view mirror I kept looking at the black jeep which had stopped a few feet behind my car. As the driver stepped out, my pulse started racing. The guy was about six-feet tall, bald and with muscles bulging out of his tight, black t-shirt. With a contemptuous look on his face, he started walking towards my car. I double-checked the locks of the door and quickly rolled up the window. Clueless about what I could do to save myself, I sat there like a rock with a prayer on my lips…

Today was definitely not my day! Suchi had planned tonight’s dinner a month ago with a stern warning thrown at me, “You better not let me down this time, Aadi! My parents will be in town only for an evening before they fly off to the USA for a year.” Instantly I had blocked the calendar on my mobile phone and I had also emailed my leave request to the boss. But as fate would have it, today was the day my company’s key client, whose account I was responsible for, chose to visit us and negotiate the next contract.

“Trust me! I will be back by evening, sweetheart.” But this assurance wasn't enough to calm down Suchi. I am sure she felt that I was deliberately avoiding the meeting with her parents as I never had high regards for them. And why would I? I was never respected by them just because Suchi and I had eloped two years ago, shattering their dreams of acquiring an NRI son-in-law. But this time I had no intentions of shying away from meeting them. In fact I had prepared myself to face them, half-heartedly though, just because I did not want to hurt Suchi’s feelings.

The client’s flight landed late owing to the notorious Delhi fog. And thanks to that delay, I was here sitting in a meeting with them till eight o'clock in the evening.

“Aadi… can you at least return home by ten o'clock, so that we can go to see off my parents at the airport?” Suchi had called up during my meeting, and her tone clearly reflected that she was trying her best to not shout at me and maintain decorum, perhaps because her parents were sitting at an audible distance from her. At nine o'clock when I asked my boss to excuse me from the dinner-meeting with the client, he did not take it too well. “What can I say? …it’s your decision. But I am sure you know that opportunities like these seldom knock at the doors of junior executives like you! And such obliviousness from your part might also affect your appraisal,” he said looking away.

No amount of scoffs or invectives could hold back me at this hour. If this is what I get in return of putting in my long hours, weekends and sweat for this company, I was better off being in my boss’s bad books than sacrificing any more hours from my personal life.

It being a Friday night, the streets were packed with an ironical combination of people (like me) leaving from work late, the BPO executives heading to work and the ones who had set out to party for the weekend. To add to the traffic woes, the City Municipality had decided to dig up one side of the road near my office to repair a pipeline. Precariously maneuvering through the infuriated cars, I managed to cover barely five kilometers in an hour. Sharp at ten o'clock my phone rang…

“Do you have any idea what the time is, Aadi?”

“I am on my way… the traffic is really bad today.”

“You always have an excuse ready at your fingertips! I am not even sure if I should trust you. If you didn't want to meet them, you could have simply told me!”

The auto rickshaw in front of my car refused to budge, and the black jeep behind my car kept blaring its horn at me.

“Suchi… you are putting unfair blame on me now! I did not refuse to meet your parents… but I can’t set aside my job for them!”

“Of course you can’t… you are always prompt in dodging all social contacts with my family in pretext of your job!”

 “Suchi! I am sure the flights would be delayed because of the fog, and we can make it in time to drop your parents at the airport. Now, if you let me drive peacefully I will try to reach home in half-an-hour,” saying this I disconnected the call.

I tried to swerve my car to overtake the broken-down auto rickshaw, but the incessant honking by the jeep behind my car didn't stop. Clubbed with the just-concluded argument with my wife, this behavior by the driver of the jeep was enough to tick me off! I rolled down my car’s window, put my arm out and gave him the finger before zipping out of my lane.

In an attempt to reach home quicker and pacify my wife’s temper, I decided to take the albeit longer, but lesser used route. The street lights were quite dim here, and the only human beings you could spot were an occasional group of rickshaw drivers huddling around a bonfire. Since I wasn't too familiar with this route, I strived to keep track of the directions. As I slowed down to ensure that I did not miss the next turn, my eyes fell on the rear-view mirror and I realized that a vehicle had been following me ever since I had diverted from the main road. On a closer look I realized that it was the same black jeep which was honking behind me, and the driver of which I had abused indicatively.

Was the jeep driver following me? Perhaps I was overreacting. To check if he was really on my trail, I accelerated up my car and took a few impromptu turns. But to my horror, wherever I went, the black jeep followed. Now I could feel my heart thumping against my chest and a trickle of sweat flowing down my forehead. Oh no! Had I ruffled the wrong feathers? Looking at the make of the vehicle, the owner certainly seemed to be an influential or powerful person or possibly both. That was it… I had to lose him from my tail or hit the main road again where there would be other people to save me. With my foot pressed hard on the accelerator, I just sped through the unknown lanes without paying heed to directions at all, till I hit a dead-end.

I did not turn my head around! Through the rear-view mirror I kept looking at the black jeep which had stopped a few feet behind my car. As the driver stepped out, my pulse started racing. The guy was about six-feet tall, bald and with muscles bulging out of his tight, black t-shirt. With a contemptuous look on his face, he started walking towards my car. I double-checked the locks of the door and quickly rolled up the window. Clueless about what I could do to save myself, I sat there like a rock with a prayer on my lips.

The knock on my car window shook me up, but I gathered some courage to look towards his face with a fake but dramatic ‘I-am-not-scared’ expression. With an evil grin on his face, the bald man gave me the finger, walked back to his jeep and drove away!

As I was trying to come to terms with what just happened, the notification tone of my mobile phone made me rake for it in the darkness. ‘1 message from Suchi’.

“I called a cab for Ma and Pa and they have left. Please don’t bother to leave your WORK behind for such trivial occurrences of my life!”

The mobile phone clock showed eleven o’clock and I was stranded at an unknown spot in the middle of nowhere. The only picture remaining in front of my eyes was that of the bald man giving me the finger.

The 'prized' posession

“Babujee... could you please keep an eye on my bag lying there?” a jittery voice interrupted the interesting plot of the novel that I was reading.

I moved my gaze to discover the source of the voice - a dark face, tanned further by over exposure to the summer sun... teeth stained with gutkha... drowsy eyes displaying either fatigue or drunkenness. The strands of hair peeking out of his nose and ears were longer than his unkempt stubble, and the amount of dirt he had been exposed to was revealed by the gooey black accretion in the corner of each eye. I could make out from the wrinkles on his face and arms, and looking at his receding hairline leading to a patch of gray hair, that he was at least seventy years old. He was shabbily dressed in a torn dhoti (which I presumed would be white in color had it been washed), and his hand quivered while pointing towards the tattered jute bag which was kept on the floor of the railway station platform, a few meters away from where I sat. The brown bag reminded me of the big sack of potatoes that Bansi, our subzeewala, kept near the wall behind his roadside shop and resting against which I have seen him take numerous naps during the pleasant summer afternoons of Pune. The jute bag of this old man was as big as Bansi’s sack, and was filled with God-knows-what.

I chose not to reply and turned back to the book that I was reading.

“I will return in no time,” saying this he limped away, before I could react. Did he interpret my silence as an ‘okay’ nod? How could he expect me to guard the belongings of a stranger... and especially one whose appearance did no good to establish that he was a trustworthy individual?
Making a dog’s ear on the page that I was reading, I closed the book and looked around. The big digital clock hanging near the over-bridge displayed 7:15 am.

'May I have your attention please! 22041... Goa Express from New Delhi is running late by 30 minutes, and will now arrive at 7:45 am on platform number two. We regret the inconvenience caused.' This announcement did not come as a surprise to me, yet I let out a sigh of disgruntle. Stealing one quick glance at the sack which the old man had left at my custody, I wandered around to locate a tea stall.

* * *

This morning I had to wake up much earlier than usual to reach the railway station on time. My father was coming from Delhi and hence I was pulled out of the bed at 6:00 am by my wife.

“You are really shameless, Aadi!” she had shouted right after tugging away the blanket covering me. “Why do you bother to set the alarm if it fails to even budge you?”

I remember sitting up on the bed, rubbing my eyes for quite some time. “When is dad’s train scheduled to arrive?”

“In an hour!” she had screamed back before running towards the kitchen.

Hearing this I had sprung up on my feet and rushed to the bathroom. This was the first time that my father was visiting Pune ever since we had moved to this city a couple of years ago. This made my wife very conscious and she was on her toes since last week to have the house in tip-top condition before he arrived. I wondered what she would have done had my mother also accompanied my father in this trip.

“How many times did I tell you to get curd from the grocery store, Aadi? You know very well that dad likes to have curd after lunch!”

I had just formed a lather of the toothpaste in my mouth and couldn’t speak much – which was in fact a good thing for me as I did not have an apt reply. I stared at her reflection on the mirror and put up a guilty expression, while I continued brushing my teeth.

“You are really ridiculous!” were her last words before she had dashed out of the room.

* * *

“Your tea, sahib!” said the shop attendant banging the small glass of cutting-chai on the counter. The aroma of ginger lingered into my nose as I took the first sip... just what one needed in a rainy Pune morning like this. Finishing the steaming shot of tea, I strolled back to the bench which I had occupied earlier. I could have walked away to a different seat but I don’t know what made me go there and check if the old man’s belonging was safe. It was.

The tattered sack, with one cardboard piece sticking out of it, lay on the dirty platform floor untouched. Behind the sack was a steel pillar with a poster stuck on it... ‘Please call 100 if you see any suspicious object lying unattended.’ I scanned the vicinity to see if I could spot the old man, but he was nowhere to be seen. It had been at least 15 minutes since I had last seen him. One part of me compelled me to raise an alarm, while the other said that it was not that big a deal. As I seated myself on the bench with conflicting thoughts scuffling in my mind, my phone rang.

“Aadi... the train has crossed Lonavala 20 minutes ago. I think it will enter Pune station in the next 10 minutes,” I heard my father’s excited voice over the phone.

“Please be at your seat when the train enters Pune, and don’t bother to scuffle through the crowd carrying your suitcase, dad! I don’t want you to sprain your ailing back.”

I chit chatted with my father for a couple of minutes, trying to convince him that I will be standing right outside the compartment he is seated in and will help him get down in time, before a commotion on the platform diverted my attention. Hanging up the phone, I walked up to the mob that had accumulated at a distance. Jostling my way through a few people forming the outermost ring of the crowd, I realized that the object causing this ruckus was the tattered sack left behind by the old man.

A police hawaldar stood at an arm’s length poking it with a stick.

“Who does this belong to?” he let out an annoyed yell. Nobody responded. I too chose to remain silent.

“I repeat... if the owner of this sack does not come forward right away, I will have it thrown away!”
Restlessness crept into the hawaldar as he failed to receive a response to his repeated inquiries. He poked deeper into the sack inducing the mob to step back slowly. With a careful flick of the stick, he forced open the mouth of the sack and spilled out its contents on the floor.

I peeked over the shoulder of the person standing in front of me to get a closer look at what emerged from the sack...
Two over-ripe bananas, one half eaten vada-pav, a foil containing leftovers from the meal distributed in trains, two empty ice-cream cups, one crushed bottle of mineral water, a few pieces of wood and cardboard, some dirty plastic spoons and one empty beer bottle.

What! This was the ‘prized’ possession of the old man which he wanted me to guard? How ridiculous... who on earth would have even touched this rag-picker’s bag?!

* * *

As soon as Goa Express’ entry into the station was announced, everyone in the platform was pushed around in the hustle-bustle and I rushed to follow compartment AS-4.

Typical of my father, not heeding to any of my instructions, he was standing at the door of his compartment with a suitcase in one hand and holding the handle of the door with the other. His eyes searched for me in the stadium-like crowd.

“The food they served in this train is better than the one your mother and I ate while going to Calcutta. And my God... the weather in Lonavala was excellent. It felt as if we were traveling between the clouds...” my father chattered on with a child-like excitement. I knew that his excitement was owing to the fact that he was meeting me after many months, and the train journey had a lesser contribution towards it.

I had a suppressed smile on my lips as I nodded on and carried his suitcase ...with him trotting close on my heels.

As we raced past the other passengers, who had disembarked from Goa Express, to reach the stairs of the over-bridge before it became too crowded; I spotted the same old man who had approached me to watch over his sack. He was standing near the steel pillar – one with the poster stuck on it... ‘Please call 100 if you see any suspicious object lying unattended.’

With his head grabbed tightly between both hands, he looked at the contents of his sack strewn all around. All the eatable items it once contained were mashed under the footsteps of the thrilled members of the crowd who had rushed to receive their family members on arrival of the train. The expression on the face of the old man was that of utter disappointment. Next to him was an old woman sitting on a wooden plank with four small wheels. Both her legs were amputated. She was trying to lick out whatever was left in a corner of the foil which had once contained a sumptuous meal distributed in the train.

At that moment it occurred to me that perhaps the old man had left for a while to bring his wife over. Perhaps the leftover food items were their lavish breakfast of the day. Perhaps the sack was really his ‘prized’ possession!

As I walked off with the wave of the massive crowd, the old man’s eyes met mine for a moment. He didn’t react, but the disappointed expression on his face screamed out to me, “All I had requested you to do was guard my sack for a few minutes...”

वही टाइम, वही ट्रेन, वही रूट और वही सारे हमसफ़र....

वही टाइम, वही ट्रेन, वही रूट और वही सारे हमसफ़र....

...लेकिन आज पहली बार मेरे बगल में बैठे अंकल से मैने थोड़ी बातें की.
... पहली बार स्कूल के उन बच्चों की अन्ताक्षरी मुझे शोर सी नहीं लगी.
(और शायद उन के साथ मैने मन ही मन थोड़ा गुनगुनाया भी)
...पहली बार एक अजनबी परिवार के साथ ताश के दो हाथ खेले.
...पहली बार चिल्लाया नहीं जब उस भिखारी ने मेरा घुटना थपथपाते हुए एक रूपया माँगा.
...पहली बार खिडकी से बाहर झाँका, और जाना की उस कंक्रीट जंगल के अलावा भी एक और पहलु है इस शहर का.
...पहली बार एक नए मुझसे मिला मैं, और उसके साथ काफी समय बिताया!

क्यूंकि आज जल्दबाजी में मेरा स्मार्ट फ़ोन घर में भूल आया हूँ मैं...

(this is my 1st attempt to write in Hindi after primary school, so please excuse mistakes in grammar and spellings)

Examinations simplified!

The first thing that came to my mind when I saw this video about 'examify' was, "I wish somebody would have thought of this idea when I was in high school!"

Although I do have a concern, that if this app gains popularity, it would be like blessing every fighter in the Kurukshetra battlefield with a Brahmastra*. And in today's world where the cut off marks of even the not-so-popular colleges are touching the 100% mark, I wonder what would be the aftereffects of distributing such a power to all students.

Franklin Templeton Investments partnered the TEDxGateway Mumbai in December 2012, and a young hacker, Angad Nadkarni, presented an overview about his creation, 'examify' during one of the sessions. As he spoke about the challenges every student goes through while facing the cut-throat competition in every field, we could see an empathizing audience cheer his theories about 'noise' and and the solution he offered as an answer to counter this 'noise'.

The app uses the fundamentals of data mining doubled with Angad's hacking skills to 'steal' data from other websites, and the result is a magic wand to tell a student the questions he/she can expect in an examination. Awesome, isn't it?

So if you are a student, or are close to one, do not restrict from viewing/sharing the video link above to guarantee better results! Kudos to the young Angad for coming up with a brilliant idea...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
* Brahmastra, sometimes known as the Brahma Astra (Astra means 'weapon'), was described in a number of the Puranas as considerably the deadliest weapon. It was said that when the Brahmastra was discharged, there was neither a counter attack nor a defense that could stop it.

THE PERFECT ROAD TRIP

So what comes to your mind when I say the four words - THE PERFECT ROAD TRIP?
•    Probably an open jeep or a convertible?
•    Exquisite weather?
•    A beautiful companion?
•    Lovely music collection?
•    A trip to Goa?

Unfortunately THE PERFECT ROAD TRIP of mine had none of these, yet it turned out to be just perfect. How? Read on...

Let me now pull you away from the dream points I have listed above, and throw some light on the real situation I was in. So, I was driving a rented Maruti 800 which seemed to be at least fifteen years old. The weather was hot and humid, just as it usually is in any coastal belt during the month of March. My companion was Ankur, a hitchhiker I had met just a couple of minutes ago. The only music I could hear was the cacophony generated by the rickety parts of the vintage car. And, I was headed to Pune from Shrivardhan (a small beach-town in the Konkan region of Maharashtra).

It all started three days back when I, with my fifty odd colleagues, had set out to Shrivardhan for a project get-together and team building session. To cut a long story short, after last night’s bonfire party, I was so sloshed that I do not remember what happened after the last jig I performed on Yo Yo Honey Singh’s latest number. I opened my eyes today morning to find myself lying in a corner of the beach, with none of my colleagues in sight. When I called up one of them, I was informed that they had already left for Pune an hour back. So all that I could do was rent a car using my resort owner, Mr. Gaekwad’s contacts, and here I was on my way back home. The deal was that I would be contacted by a guy called Rajesh in Pune, and he’ll bring the car back to Shrivardhan. As soon as I entered the car, it was very evident by the whiff inside that it belonged to a local fisherman who used the vehicle to ferry his day’s catch. Seeing my frowned nose, Mr. Gaikwad pulled out an Ambi Pur freshener from his car and generously sprayed it inside the Maruti.

“Here you go. It’s as fresh as new,” he said. To my surprise he was right, and the fragrance was lemon, which matched perfectly with the wedge of lime I was licking to cure my bad hangover. I drove out of the resort, unsure about how long the junk car would hold its ground.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

My fear was no mean exaggeration, and that was proven by the fact that the car’s engine stopped no sooner had I touched the highway. I should have taken the bus, but the uncertainty of getting one had made me decide in the contrary. I stepped out and opened the hood of the car – not because I had the skills to detect or fix whatever was wrong there, but with the sheer hope that some passerby might stop to help, seeing my broken down car.

“Just staring at the engine with your arms behind your back won’t help, buddy. Need a hand?” I heard a voice from behind me. A tall and well-built lad in his mid twenties stood there. He was carrying a huge backpack, and the way he constantly chewed on a gum as he spoke lent him an American accent.

“The darn car won’t move. Do you mind pushing it a bit as I try to get the engine started?” I put forth my request.

“Why not,” said he and shoved his backpack into my car. “A man needs to pamper his car like a girlfriend, which you obviously haven’t been doing.”

“It’s a rented car,” I said irately.

"Oh! So she's not your girlfriend. That gives you all the more reason to pamper her" he added stroking the roof of the car with an affectionate expression.

I did not smile.

Immediately he rolled up his sleeves, stepped behind the car and gave me the thumbs up sign. After putting in a lot of sweat and patience, we finally managed to get the car started.

As I thanked the stranger who helped me, I noticed that although he looked like a traveler but he did not have any vehicle of his own. “Where are you off to?” I asked.

“Pune. I was hoping to get a bus from the next bus stop on this highway,” he said pointing towards the road ahead. “Can you please drop me there?”

“Hop in dude! I am going to Pune too, and I can do with some company for the road.”

So that is how I ended up in the current situation that I was in.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It usually takes a little less than four hours to drive from Shrivardhan to Pune. But taking into account the upcoming combat between the rickety car I was driving and the mountainous terrains, I was expecting us to conclude the entire journey in roughly five hours. The initial two hours passed by pretty uneventfully during which Ankur told me a lot about himself. I did not grasp much of what he was saying, apart from his name and the fact that he was a stand-up comedy artist who juggled his time between Mumbai and Pune.
No wonder he was such a chatterbox! But one good thing that came out of his constant blabbering was that it prevented me from dozing off.

“Would you like to drive for an hour?” I interrupted him with the sole intention of grabbing a brief nap.

Thankfully he agreed. But my plan of dozing off fell flat on its face, as the chatterbox in Ankur did not take a back seat even after I handed him the control of the steering wheel.

“So what’s your story?” Ankur asked as we whizzed past a small tea shop before I could tell him to stop. I didn’t mind having a cup of tea and something to eat. It had been many hours since I had had my last meal.

“Story... what do you mean?”

“Are you usually so grim and quiet?” Ankur reiterated his question.

Seeing a small restaurant I signaled Ankur to stop the car, and this time he applied the brakes just in time. As Ankur parked the car I thanked my stars for finding an excuse to dodge his question, and getting access to some grub at last. As we entered the roadside restaurant, Ankur’s phone rang.

“Please order a sandwich and coffee for me. I’ll attend to this call and join you,” said he before picking up the call.

There was a huge list of items in the menu card but the attendant shook his head against every option I asked for.

“Sahab, you’ll only get vada-pav and poha at this moment,” he said after listening to me patiently for a while. Irately I ordered poha and tea for us.

“Will that be all, sahib?”

My scornful look drove him away.

Ankur arrived at the table after five minutes, and so did our food.

“I asked for sandwich,” said Ankur peeking into the tray as it was being placed on our table. I repeated my scornful look for Ankur and he got the message.

“Ditch the sandwich,” he said. “I need a favor from you.”

I looked enquiringly.

“My very close college friend from Mumbai, who’s an assistant director, is in Lavasa today for a film shooting session. Can we divert from our route a bit, as I would really like to meet him?”

“A bit?” I exclaimed. “That’s almost an hour off track!”

“Please... please...” Ankur pleaded. “It’s a Sunday today, and we’ll reach Pune well before sun down.”
I desperately wanted to enter my house as soon as possible and hit the bed, so tired was I. But I gave in to his request.

The truth is, the prospect of meeting a movie unit excited me.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

With the sun in its scorching best, March is not the ideal time to visit Lavasa. In fact it isn’t the ideal time to step out of one’s house in the first place. The drive to Lavasa was quicker than what we had anticipated, thanks to the almost nil traffic.

I was the one driving in this leg of our journey, and Ankur directed me towards the lake beside which we could see the set up of a film unit. Parking the car at a distance from the nearest tent, we walked towards the unit.

“There you are, you bugger,” screamed the guy wearing a red cap and came running up to us. Ankur and his friend took a while to catch up before I was introduced to the assistant director.

After we exchanged greetings, I was seated under a huge umbrella with a spot boy being called over to serve me snacks and drinks, which I readily accepted. Sipping from my glass of lemon soda I admired the picturesque view of the lake as Ankur and his friend chatted up at a distance. I tried my best to locate the actors but, to my disappointment, failed to spot any recognizable face.

“Sandy has a proposal for you.” I did not notice when Ankur had walked up to me. His friend was standing next to him. I looked towards Sandy, the assistant director.

“Let me get to the point...” started Sandy. “We have to shoot the next sequence in fifteen minutes and for that we need an old, tattered Maruti 800. We had fetched one from the garage and dented it to look real, but after our director saw your car, he feels that it fits the bill better!”

“But how long will that take?” was my instant reaction.

“It may take a while,” Sandy stated apologetically. “But please do not worry... we will make arrangements for your stay in the best suite of the lakeside hotel.”

That sounded tempting. What sounded more tempting was when he added, “We’ll also pay you fifteen thousand rupees as a fee for using your car.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As I relaxed in the bathtub of my suite, Mr. Gaikwad, the resort owner called, “I hope you have reached Pune safely, sir. I would like to apologize yet again for not being able to arrange a better transportation for you.”

“You couldn’t have possibly found a better car, Mr. Gaikwad because you got me the best,” I said with a smile. “Please do me a favor, will you? I will wire transfer fifteen thousand rupees to your account tomorrow... please give it to the owner of the car with my compliments when you return the car to him.”

There was a moment of silence from the other end of the call. After about half a minute, I heard Mr. Gaikwad's voice, “You’ve got to be kidding me, sir! Was the car so good?”

“Let’s just say that it smelt great, and that made my road trip just perfect!” I said with a smirk.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

SUBUcasms

Incidents from my daily life, cited with a pinch of salt (shared by me on Facebook over the years...)

Wah re Indian TV censorship! Leonard has to restrict himself by describing Sheldon's comic-con costume as 'kick***', but it is perfectly okay for Fast Track to scream 'move your ass' in a completely out-of-context advertisement.
30 Jun 2013

Smart move by Vidya Balan in Ghanchakkar! By playing the role of a woman with a weird (read bad) sense of dressing, she has silenced the fashion police this time ;)
25 Jun 2013

...just saw the trailer of Policegiri! The judge who decided to delay Sanjay Dutt's imprisonment to let him complete this movie should also be put behind bars.
15 Jun 2013

When my wife's driving the car, I don't get to sit on the back seat...The atheist in me does!
11 June 2013

Dear Mr. Neighbour! Haven't you heard the story about the boy who cried wolf? Nobody's going to believe your freaking car alarm when the thieve actually strikes...
5 Feb 2013

Yes, I want only one chicken burger! Extra cheese - no thank you! No, I don't want fries with it! Thank you, but I wouldn't like to have anything to drink along with my burger! Seriously, I am not interested to know about your combo-deal! Yes, I will eat it here! No, I do not have five rupees' change!
Heck, my wife asks lesser questions when I return home late at times.
2 Feb 2013

...while channel surfing this morning, I stumbled upon the Benny Hinn show. After preaching the audience 'to stop worrying about physical appearances and focus on one's soul', he went on to sell the bible with 'an attractive leather cover'!!!
17 Oct 2012

The fuming driver stepped out and held the biker, who had barely brushed against his car, by the collar. As the argument heated up, a smiley-card dangling from the car's rear-view mirror caught my attention - one side read 'LOVE' and the other 'PEACE'.
22 Sep 2012

Tricky question: "Does this dress look good on me?"
Trickier question: "Is this dress better than the previous one I tried?"
Killer question: "You aren't even looking! Tell me... what was the color of the last dress I showed you?"
4 Jul 2012

"What's all this fuss about antioxidants! If it's so important, why wasn't it part of the Balanced Diet / Nutrition chapter in your primary school book?" the old lady sitting at the table beside mine exclaimed. I silently put aside my cup of green tea...
17 Jun 2012

good news: ...so many choices :)
bad news: ...the darned 2 liter limit :(
17 Mar 2012

Scene: Finale class of the Shiamak dance school happening inside the aerobics-room of my gym. Small kids putting up a fine performance in front of their parents...
Sad part: 90% of the audience is watching the performance thru the small screen of their mobile phones while recording!
Sadder part: I too miss the performance as I get busy updating this status on FB!
Damn! I hate gadgets!!!
3 Mar 2012

...while watching a soap opera on Star Plus (plz don't judge me) with my wife, the (innocent) heroine, Kavya is slapped by her mother-in-law (who else?), and poor she falls face down on the floor (a shot which is shown repeatedly 3 times).
My wife turns towards me and exclaims, "Did you see that!?"
I nod my head in sympathy...
"...Kavya is wearing exactly the same ear-rings which I had bought from Delhi last week," my wife concludes!
26 Feb 2012

A busy crossing... I'm waiting behind a Maruti A-star to get to cross over to the opposite side of the street...
Suddenly the vehicle ahead of me starts rolling back... I honk! ...it keeps approaching my car... I honk again! No amount of honking manages to stop the bumpers of our cars from eventually meeting!!!!
"Oops! I turned the rear-view mirror towards my face, and got busy in applying lipstick. Hence I failed to notice that my car was moving," SHE explained matter-of-factly...
22 Feb 2012

Conclusion I derived after observing my relatives during my bro's wedding: we Bongs are 'distinctively crazy'!
Each one of us eats till he/she lets out a loud burp, and every meal is followed by a generous dose of Digene. And to shield against the harsh 'dilli ki sardi' everybody turned to the classic Boroline and mufflers, monkey caps (no, these items aren't extinct yet) ;)
19 Feb 2012

...lesson learnt! While having dinner, one shouldn't ask for an extra helping when he is drunk.
I did something unforgivable last night... asked for 'one more julab gamun' sitting amidst 45 relatives :(
18 Feb 2012

finally I caught up on my sleep! ...at the theater ...while watching 'ek maiy aur ek tu'!
13 Feb 2012

You know it's a national holiday when one TV channel is showing Border, another Gadar to be followed by Gandhi and the prime time is blocked for Manoj Kumar movies!
Sigh... definitely not an apt day to laze at home watching TV :(
26 Jan 2012

...one of those days when I was caught in a conflict between my head and my heart. I listened to my wife!
15 Jan 2012

One of those days when the heart feels "TGIF", but the calendar says "SHIT" (Sorry Honey It's Thursday)...
12 Jan 2012

So, what's the final verdict? Is the world coming to an end in 2012?
I need an answer quick - before the last date to plan my investments draws near...
2 Jan 2012

Sheer casting error in in MI4! Why did they choose Anil Kapoor for that role, when Shakti Kapoor would have been a perfect fit :P
22 Dec 2011

The two dreaded words are all set to screw up my Saturday night ...
DRY DAY :(
2 Oct 2010

My tryst with God

The temple looked beautiful, silhouetted against the sun setting behind the hill. The cacophony caused by the evening aarati sent out a flurry of chirpy birds from the nearby trees flying towards the orange sky. A group of noisy children ran past me, towards the temple to make sure that they did not miss the evening prasaad, which was to follow as soon as the aarati would conclude. It was definitely not the best ambiance for a person who wanted to sit by himself peacefully, and take a break from the boisterous city life.

Restlessly I looked towards my watch. It was already 6 p.m. and my family was not yet back from its ritualistic visit to the Shiva-dham temple, which was located on top of the hill at a small village in the outskirts of Delhi.

This time they had coaxed me, or rather bribed me, into accompanying them to this place since dad was not in a condition to drive. He had a coronary angioplasty last week, and as per the doctor’s advice, he was supposed to have strict rest for at least a week. However, my dad was adamant about paying homage to the Lord Shiva for seeing him through the complicated surgery.

“Come on Ma… I don’t think it is advisable for dad to travel such a long distance in this condition,” I had tried putting a futile effort in avoiding this visit today morning.

“I cannot delay this trip more… I had promised my lord that I will pay him a visit at Shiva-dham if he brings me out of the surgery fine,” dad spoke in a husky voice with a hand on placed on his chest. It still hurt him there if he tried putting too much volume in his voice.

“Why can’t you simply thank this lord of yours in the temple in your room?” I snapped back, losing my patience. “I mean there must be at least twenty photos and idols of Shiva in our house!”

“Forgive him, oh lord,” uttered mom as she looked up towards the ceiling. “How many times have I told you Aadi… if you don’t believe in God, please keep those feelings to yourself!” I could sense that mom was getting agitated now. The next state she would enter was definitely ‘emotional’, and that was a state which I could never deal with in a woman. I looked away and turned towards dad. He looked at me with pleading eyes.

“What is all the fuss about,” entered Deepa, my elder sister.

“Aadi does not want to come with us to Shiva-dham!” mom complained to her.

Deepa looked at me. Her eyes said, ‘Oh no! Don’t tell me that you started the same old argument again’. My eyes said, ‘yes… I did!’

And why wouldn’t I? This patronage of Shiva-dham by my parents was getting out of hand with each passing day.

• We visited Shiva-dham when I passed my class 12th boards exams.
• We visited Shiva-dham when dad bought his new car.
• We visited Shiva-dham when mom sold her first policy as an LIC agent.
• We visited Shiva-dham when Deepa passed her MBA entrance exams.
• We visited Shiva-dham even when my distant cousin from Bhopal paid us a visit and her marriage got fixed with a top-notch Delhi High-Court lawyer!

If this habit would go on, I did not feel that the day was far off when we would be in Shiva-dham, thanking the lord for blessing Tommy (our pet dog) with a puppy.

“There is an awesome new Hypercity mall that has come up en route to the Shiva-dham,” Deepa said. “We could get your new watch from there… I have heard that there are plenty of International watch shops there.”

I looked at Deepa with suspicion… was she throwing bait at me to make me fall into the trap?

“I think that is a good idea… we will buy a very good watch for you,” said dad. He was one person whose words I could trust, and this bribe was good enough to make me drive my family to Shiva-dham.

***

So here I was… sitting at the foot of the hill housing the Shiva-dham, waiting for my family to come back so that we could make it in time to the Hypercity mall. I looked towards the temple. The sound of the aarati stopped… but the chirping sound of the birds didn’t who were now on their way back to the branches of their respective trees, where they were snuggly perched before the cacophony had begun.

Ten more minutes went by, but yet there was no sign of mom, dad or Deepa. I wondered how much more time they would spend in the temple. Hopefully they will at least get back some yummy prasaad for me.

“Could you please lend me a hand, son?” I heard a voice from behind me, the source of which was an old man with a walking stick in the grip of his right hand. His other hand was on my shoulder for getting support to walk on the uneven terrain.

“Where do you want to go?” asked I getting up on my feet and holding his hand tightly.

“Please help me sit there.” He pointed his walking stick towards the rock next to the one on which I was seated.

“Sure,” I said helping him. Once seated, the old man looked kept staring at the temple while heaving deep breaths. I looked towards his face to make sure that he was alright. The old man smiled at me.

“Who are you, son? What are you doing here?”

“I am… err… Aaditya,” said I, not sure if I should be revealing my true identity to a stranger, but ultimately deciding that the man was too old to appear dangerous. “My parents and sister are up there, and I am waiting for them,” I pointed towards the temple.

“Why aren’t you with them? It is a lovely temple…”

I wasn’t usually comfortable to answering this question. I, being an atheist, was well aware about the reactions I was capable of getting once I let people know that I did not believe in God and never visited temples or any religious places. “Just like that,” said I.

“How is that possible? There must be some reason…” nagged the old man. I shook my head to disagree and impatiently looked at my watch again – it was 6:30 p.m. now. In another one and half hours the mall would shut down.

“You are an atheist, aren’t you my son?” the old man caught me off guard me with this sudden statement.

“Yeah, it’s kind of obvious… isn’t it? Still, how did you know?” I asked nonchalantly.

“I know everything, my son… because I am GOD!” he uttered these words with utmost conviction.

I looked at him in awe. “Ha! Ha! That is funny,” I jeered at him.

“No son… I am saying the truth. I really am God.”

I looked away from him and got up to take a few steps up the hill. With anticipation I kept looking towards the temple, thinking aloud, “Where on earth is my family… aren’t they a bit too late?”

“Look at me son,” I heard the old man’s voice from behind me. Turning around I discovered an eerie sight. The self proclaimed God was floating on air – about two feet above the rock on which he was sitting a moment ago.

“Whoa! Whoa! Old man… take it easy!” I exclaimed. “Stop freaking me out… will you?”

“Now do you believe me, son?” he said holding on to his aerial position.

“Frankly speaking, I do not. I mean, doing some silly magic to scare or impress people is totally uncalled for,” I said with a stern voice. “David Blaine puts up a better performance than this one!”

The old man was taken aback. Slowly he came down and his expression changed into a sorrowful one. I felt a little bad about shouting on an elderly chap, but nonetheless this behavior wasn’t very apt too.

“Who is David Blaine? Is he God too?” the old man asked as soon as he retained his original posture.

“He is a famous street magician!” I answered irately. “You do not seem to have that much knowledge being a God, I must say,” I said under my breath.

“I heard that!” I was surprised at his hearing prowess, taking his age into consideration. “Anyways… let us have a chat until your family is back from the temple,” he said patting on the surface of the rock beside him. Nonchalantly I went and sat beside him, as I did not have any better way to kill time.

“So… why don’t you visit temples? Wouldn’t you have liked to be with your family up there, rather than sitting here alone?”

“Firstly, I do not believe in God or the money-extracting priests inside the temple. Secondly, have you seen the queue of devotees outside this Shiva-dham?” I asked. “To top it all, the uphill climb to this temple is not worth the trouble.”

“But that is how I test my devotees…”

“Did you just say ‘My’ devotees?” I exclaimed. “Aren’t we done with the magic show and your pretentious Godly identity?”

“But son… I really am….”

“Okay, okay….” I interrupted him. “Just to make you happy, for a moment I will believe that you really are God,” said I with my fingers signaling flying quotation marks around “God”.

The old man smiled and nodded.

“Now Mr. God… would you mind answering a few questions?” I mocked him. He repeated his nod and his smile.

“First of all I would like to know, what proof do you have of your existence?”

“Do you see that long queue of devotees outside the temple?” he pointed up the hill. “Isn’t that proof enough to establish my existence?”

“No… not at all,” I retorted. “Those people have pain and suffering in their lives. They have come here because they have nowhere else to go.”

“Not every one of them has problems… some come here selflessly too,” replied ‘God’.

“Huh! That’s what you think…” I scoffed him. “If they do not have problems, then they have come here either to prevent them by bribing you, or thank you for getting rid of their problems.”

“But, doesn’t that mean that I solve the pain and suffering of the people in this earth?” ‘God’ said in his defense.

“But who creates them at the first place?” I put forth my point for debate.

I looked at the face of ‘God’. I could make out from his expressions that he was losing his grip on this debate. To put the spine of the discussion off-track, he threw a volley of questions at my end, but I had my answers ready.

‘God’: “Then how do you explain the creation of the earth and the whole universe?”

My answer: “The ‘Big Bang’ theory!”

‘God’: “Who created the trees, flowers and fruits?”

My answer: “Germination of seeds, photosynthesis and pollination!”

‘God’: “How do you explain the creation of life, human beings?”

My answer: “Now, I do not have time to explain facts about the-birds-and-the-bees to you!”

I saw ‘God’ slapping his forehead hard. I had defeated him, but I wanted more pleasure out of his defeat. To pester him further, I asked him, “How come you do not mention the earthquakes, storms and tsunamis when you talk about your deeds?”

‘God’ was speechless.

“In fact, I suspect that you deliberately make things go wrong in this world and screw up our lives so that you get to show off your power, and get attention from everybody,” I cornered ‘God’. “You really do not deserve the attention or importance that you gather from us… why can’t you do your acts of goodness selflessly, without expecting people to queue up outside your temples to thank you or beg of you?” That was the final nail.

‘God’ went into a somber state. I put my hand around the old man, and we looked at the sun disappearing over the horizon. Darkness prevailed.

“I am just curious to know one thing,” I asked the old man. “If you really are God… then why did you come to meet me out of all the people?”

“Hmm…” mumbled the old man. I still had my arm around his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t you have had been received and attended to more graciously and royally by one of your firm believers?” I expressed my curiosity.

“I came here to thank you…”

“Thank me! For what? I do not even believe in your existence,” I exclaimed.

“That is the sole reason why I wanted to thank you. It is people like you, atheists, who do not come running to me for every petty or even big problem,” he explained. “You solve your problems yourself since you do not believe that I exist.”

I listened on…

“This really takes a whole lot of workload off me! So, I thought that I needed to spare some time to personally thank you…” I heard his voice looming away from me. I could not see him in the darkness but I realized that my arm which was around his shoulder was floating in air, and I no longer felt him.

“Take care my child… my blessing will always be with you… I am not as selfish as you think!” and that was the last of what I heard from him.

***

I took a couple of minutes to recollect myself before I saw dad and Deepa walking towards me from the hill. Mom was following them at a distance.

“What took you guys so long? Are you alright, dad?” I asked running towards dad.

“You would not believe what had happened in the temple,” exclaimed dad as he leaned on me to walk him to the car.

The moment all of us settled inside the car and hit the road, Deepa’s narration began. “As soon as the priest finished the aarti, smoke filled up the entire temple!” she exclaimed. Mom nodded vigorously in agreement. “And after 5-10 minutes when the smoke cleared off, the idol of the God had vanished! Can you believe that?” Deepa added.

“You guys must have been dreaming,” I mocked Deepa.

“Don’t believe me if you do not want to,” she snapped at me.

“She is saying the truth, Aadi…” dad reiterated Deepa’s experience. “A special puja had to be performed, and only then did God reappear in the temple. That is why we got delayed… we could not leave the temple until the special puja got over!”

I could not believe what they were saying.

Were they stating the truth? Did the statue of the God disappear because God had taken a break and come down to meet me? Did I actually meet God today, or was it all a dream?

I shook my head in sheer disbelief and drove the car faster towards Hypercity Mall. I needed to get there before they closed down the shops. I had no intentions of returning home without buying a brand new watch for me today!

*****
Footnotes:
aarati: Worship by singing and chanting aloud the praise of a God or a Goddess. (as found here. Also spelled as aarti, arathi, aarthi, etc.)

prasaad: Is the sacred offering to the deity returned to the dev otee after the worship as part of the deity’s grace. (as found here. Also spelled prasad or prasada)
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