After a hiatus...

I didn't update this in a year and a half. Yeah, so sue me.

Yesterday was a turning point in my life. The following conversation with Baccha changed my entire outlook from easy naivete to a dark pessimism

Bachha : Dude, lemme tell you a truth in life...

Me : Okay...

Baccha : Dude, you will never get a girlfriend, ever again...

Me: ...

Hula, Mame, Neta, Bhond, Anty and Doodh roar with laughter

Hula : That is so true... hahaha... you ..gasp ... hahaha... gasp...

Me: Dude, that is soo not funny, why the hell...

All in unison : It so is...! LOL

Mame : Totally man, I really cant imagine you with a girl ever... you are like... (stops short of actually saying it)

Baccha : (to Mame) but there is more... It is HIGHLY IMPOSSIBLE (!!) for you to get a girlfriend

(Mame shuts up)

Baccha: AFAIK, none of us will ever get a girlfriend

(All relapse into tense silence)

Congratulations Baccha, you ruined my life in 3 sentences.

Its a normal summer day in the city of Chennai.

The temperature is 20 degrees at 6am, 30 at 10 and 40 at 2 in the afternoon. At 6 in the morning, the temples are bustling with the sari-clad mamis offering their morning prayers. Yet each chime of the prayer bell is punctuated by a sharp blast of the horn of the water lorry that thunders by to deliver water to neighbourhood. I wake up in a rage, my first thought being that I would love to slit the throat of that damn nuisance of a lorry driver.

I overcome this bloodlust and sit down for coffee. And I wait. And wait. And wait some more. At last at 7, the milkman turns up, drops the milk packets in front of the door and vanishes mysteriously almost instantly before I can admonish him for his tardiness. It is a further half and hour before the newspaper delivery boy makes an appearance, and true to form, he too disappears as if spirited away to avoid confronting me. I actually caught up to this tyro last week. He said his grandmother passed away so he was late. I remember giving this very same excuse for missing school when I was younger. I will wait for his arrival some day this week too. I hope he doesn't kill off some other relative of his.

And so I read the newspaper while eating breakfast. Apparently, I am not destined to eat in peace either, because right in the middle of my repast, the bell rings. I have trained myself not to throw my spoon at the door when this happens, so with great restraint I open the door to a salesman who is hawking umbrellas. He sees the look on my face and beats a quick retreat. I go back to my now cold rice and resignedly poke at it with my spoon.

At 8 I am ready to leave for college when the *!#$@% doorbell rings again. This time, I do not even attempt to hitch a smile on my face. I fancy I must look like a saber-tooth tiger with a toothache. My heart turns cold when I see a familiar face at the door. Aunty.

Now in most western countries, Aunt is a very specific term used to refer to one's parents sister. In India, any middle aged woman is Aunty. Well this particular Aunty is not even related to me. She is the occupant of the apartment opposite to mine. And this woman has a queer habit of not budging until she is offered coffee. I curse the so called "Indian Culture" which explicitly states that the guest is god so treat him/her like one. I pull off my shoes and socks, and hurriedly mix up a packet of Nescafe. She looks at me and says with a queer expression on her face, "instant a?"

It takes almost all the restrain I have to hold myself back from beating her smug face in as I wait, standing, mind you, until the woman leaves. It goes without saying that she takes her time with the "instant" coffee. Finally she leaves. It is 8:30. I might be just ten minutes late for college if I hurry, so I jump into the car and after a quick prayer for free roads, gun it into gear.

By 8:45 I am seething. Tamilians have a peculiar tradition of parading their dead on the streets in a grotesque chariot of sorts, and employing a procession to dance and make merry while they pull the cart along the streets. There is no need to mention that I got stuck in one such procession. It strikes me again how inconsiderate we Indians are to the problems of others. I mean, no disrespect to the dead intended, but I don't think they mind having their procession on a road other than the most crowded of highways. I resign myself to my fate and wait until the ruckus clears. By the time I reach my college I am 20 minutes late, so I miss the first lecture.

At 12 I go for lunch at the mess. The operating words here are "go for lunch". By no means do I eat any of it. Sorry, I don't wanna die of soda poisoning. Kumbhipakam** to you all, rot in hell.

2 hours of lectures later, I head back home. I stop for refueling on the way. While I wait for getting my tank filled, I perceive someone sneaking towards the opening of an underground fuel tank holding something suspiciously akin to a bucket in his. He covertly approaches the open tank and in an instant, dumps the contents inside. I call him to me and ask him what he just did. The &^*#$^ has the nerve to ignore me and proceed to the next customer. Head throbbing and dangerously close to breaking point, I storm out of the bunk and reach home after a thankfully uneventful journey back.

I try to shut myself in my room and get some sleep. Unhappily, the roads near my place serve as some sort of racetrack for the delinquents of my area. What with their abominable horns adding to the cacophony of their engines, I am not able to get a wink of sleep. I spend a whole three hours tossing and turning in my bed with a pillow over my head trying to block the noise in vain.

I go out at seven to my usual hangout at the beach. Its lively and pleasant, usually. Yet today when I reach there, it reeks of stale booze. I see a group of drunk teenagers causing a ruckus on the pavement. One spirited young lad is in the process of defacing an expensive-looking car, while the others are egging him on. I feel the familiar throbbing in my head and head straight back home. On the way back, I see that a lecture is going on in a local hall on "Tamil heritage". Having nothing else to do, I decide to take a look. And as I enter, the speaker says that Tamil people are known throughout the world for having great consideration and respect for others' privileges.

I throw my head back and laugh. Laugh heartily. The speaker pauses and the audience shoots me annoyed looks. I don't care. After all, I am Tamilian.






** If you don't follow, just Wiki it. I cant be bothered to explain.

Friend

C was my best friend.

I was five and he was six,
there was nothing he couldn't fix,
for he was working and I was in school,
It always made me feel like a fool,

Bang Bang, I saw the mound,
Bang Bang, tears hit the ground,
Bang Bang, that awful sound,
Bang Bang, my best friend hit the ground...

Whether we wore clothes or rags,
Carried books or tools in our bags,
We didn't care one bit at all,
We'd be friends till death made us fall,

Bang Bang, I saw the mound,
Bang Bang, tears hit the ground,
Bang Bang, that awful sound,
Bang Bang, my best friend hit the ground...

Then he said he's going away,
Told me to wait every day,
He'd return and would come to play,
When that was, he wouldn't say,

Bang Bang, I saw the mound,
Bang Bang, tears hit the ground,
Bang Bang, that awful sound,
Bang Bang, my best friend hit the ground...

He would make fireworks,
He'd be paid and get nice perks,
He said he would treat me,
To mountain loads of candy,

Bang Bang, I saw the mound,
Bang Bang, tears hit the ground,
Bang Bang, that awful sound,
Bang Bang, my best friend hit the ground...

He left I never saw him again,
They said he died way back then,
they came to his home and apologised,
I felt my heart was sliced,
All that remains is a mound,
A tribute to the best friend I found,
I go there everyday,
To talk to him and to pray


Bang Bang, I saw the mound,
Bang Bang, tears hit the ground,
Bang Bang, that awful sound,
Bang Bang, my best friend hit the ground...

An ambition

Fifteen years ago, in school, I remember the teacher asking us all what we wanted to be when we grew up (in a rather unconventional way that involved paper cutouts of teddy bears and a lot of glue). I had not a second thought before designing a state-of-the-art spacesuit for my intrepid bear complete with a jetpack, a laser rifle and a stylish navy-blue finish. I remember the teacher was quite impressed. Two years later, when I had visited my relatives for a vacation, they all asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I maintained that an astronaut was the only profession good enough for me. Why? The fame and the adventure of course dummy...( what a silly question!) But even way back then, when I was still six, I recollect a few sour and condescending faces in the crowd, like they were saying "let the young boy dream, its harmless". Their reactions got onto my nerves and propelled me to read up all that I could on outer space, and by the time I was seven-and-a-half, I was the official class expert on the cosmos, frequently correcting even the teacher. Around this time, I also earned the tag of being a geek, but I was okay with that so long as it helped me in my dream. When I was nine, I returned to India, to a relatively backward place called Trichy. In the first day of school there, the teacher asked all the students (guess?) what they wanted to be. Nearly half the class said doctor, around the same number said engineer, one guy said lawyer, and I said astronaut.
I remember the teacher glaring at me and me sitting baffled, wondering what I did wrong. When I replied the same way to the same question posed by my relatives, I recieved a few more glares and a rebuke from one old aunt saying "you are too old for childish fantasies". I went home to my room and cried and cried. That day, I swore not to reveal my true ambition to anybody again. And also that day forth, I resolved never to cry. Two years later, I again shifted school, this time to a much bigger city. On the first day, the class teacher asked the very same question. This time, true to form, I replied engineer in a class where exactly half said engineer and the entire other half said doctor. I was accepted into the loop and not accused of being a wierdo, so i had accomplished my goals. I had even attended coaching classes for the IIT entrance. But the only topic that stirred my soul was still astronomy. Once I interrupted the teacher during a class on astrophysics and corrected her, only to recieve the all-too-familiar glare. I resolved never to point out mistakes again, and redirected my concentration to the IIT entrance exam. After two years of sweat and blood, six hours of frayed nerves and one month of not having nails left to chew I recieved a letter saying that I was accepted into the IIT. I remember the jubilation of my parents, friends and relatives. They all congratulated me on achieving my dream. I went to my room. I cried

wanderings

Cain was lying on his back and staring at the walls. He said, "I am bored".
Bruno nodded, "I know you are. There is no reason not to be".
"This boredom is deadly, isn't it?"
"Well, I dont know about that, you can just sleep it off."
"Dont be ridiculous Bruno, you just woke up, It's only mid-afternoon. Our day starts now"
"So why dont we start our day with a nice, refreshing nap?"
"Go to bed you crazy jerkoff, I'm gonna do something else"

Cain said to himself, "Pacing around is so boring, life sucks."
Wilbur, said aloud, "Pacing around is so boring, life sucks."
"I want to do something. I dont want to watch my toenails grow all day"
"My dear friend, you should understand that man alone among all animals feels boredom. You should feel thankful. It spurs man from lethargy."
"Keep your half-assed philosophy to yourself Wilbur, I want to wallow in self-pity."
"Dude has anyone told you that you are pathetic?"

Cain decided to go for a walk. He met Francoise in the park.
"Boy, aren't you energetic today?"
"I can't seem to find anything to do, Francoise."
"Why don't you exercise with me?"
"No, I like my fat, flabby self."
"Man you are really pathetic."
"Deja vu?"

Tired of his meaningless existence, Cain went to the wharf on the lake with a knife in his hand. Bruno, Wilbur and Francoise were chatting near the lake. F saw Cain and screamed, "Oh no! Cain has a knife in his hand and is heading for the lake!! Someone stop him!!"
W and B started running towards the wharf. They caught up with Cain and pinned him to the ground.
"What the hell man? A bit of boredom can't drive you to such measures!"
"What on Earth were you thinking?"
F caught up with them. "Don't we mean anything to you?"
Bemused, Cain said "I can explain..."
"Shut up, I dont want to hear from you."
"You a******"
"But you see, its not what you think"
"...eh?"
Cain propped himself up and said, " My boat got stuck in the middle of the lake, I was gonna swim there and cut it free."
Wilbur said, "Geez, bummer"
Bruno said, "Let's go back to sleep"

Cry

Hello, are you there?
Somebody? Anybody?
Can you hear a cry
Of anguish, yet of hope?

A trapped bird, falcon cry,
a scream of anger, rage inside,
Spreads its wings to greet the sky
its pincer beak hits steel and hide

A broken spirit, hollow soul,
see red, blood red bright,
yearns to paint itself,
In the hues of fright

A roar of terror, as moon shines
cracks the silver calm
As yet another lays itself
on the altar fearing harm

And harm it gets, in measure
Far more that is unknown
as the blood that paints the earth
paints the sun that has grown

The caged beast, king of the sky
yearns to fly, yearns to fly

Does it end, is it deemed
that the soul of the free
as the falcon screamed
in the cage, will be?

The other day on the airplane to Muscat, the airline screened Sachein as the inflight movie. A quite worthless and irritating movie, except for one beauty of a laugh, and that too unintentional. You see, for the benefit of the non-Tamil viewers, the airline screened a subtitled version, and well... er... lets just say that they were not too discriminating with their subtitles.

Sample this,

Come (tamil colloquial for girl) x3
untouched by hand CD (!?!!)


or

If Michael comes or madonna comes,
it does not get less spicy tamil folk song

or

In Fat Mango Forest,
You came like a snail,
when no one was there you held my hand...(groan)


Hurray for linguistic diversity

Me back

Ok, Ok I was a bit late in posting again but I have an excuse... [Drums rolling, fanfare...tada!!] I was not in IIT so i cannot write a blog about it. But really, I promise to be more regular henceforth