Walking the talk - Episode 2

Les gens, today we talk about a very important topic. Amongst people in my generation, it has been quietly gaining attention for the past few years, and today has become a top priority. In fact, I think its currently beating beer and shopping too. Some have already experienced it, and it seems that most of the others want to do it sooner rather than later. No, I'm not talking about sex. Today's topic is much more complicated than that. Yessir! We're talking about marriage here.

I was walking home after work one evening. As usual, I was deep in conversation with myself and the discussion quickly turned to the topic of marriages, and later (to my dismay) my marriage.

So winter's upon us. Soon, the marriage season will commence.

There is nothing new about that...is there?

Well yeah, so many of my friends are doing it/planning to do it this year! I mean I look at all these marriage invitations in their pastel colurs and glitter covered envelopes (seriously, stop doing that) and think "It wasn't long ago that this guy was winning farting contests", or "No more free booze", or "Time to strike another name off the drunk dialing list".

Yeah, they've grown up now. They've become more responsible. Besides, everybody does stupid things when they're young. Want to start recalling yours? 

I think I'll pass on that one. But what surprises me really is the pace at which this change is happening.We're only 25 for god's sake! We've just taken over the reins of our lives. Shouldn't we enjoy this freedom for some time before settling down?

Perhaps. But why do you think there should be a waiting period? I mean, you've already started working, and unless something radical happens, a few years down the line will see you doing the same things you're doing now. You see the right person, you like each other, you get married. Simple?

The hell it isn't, and stop sounding like my mother. Let me elucidate. Like we agreed, its only been a short while since we started fending for ourselves. Choosing the right partner is one of the most important decisions of our lives. To make any good decision, one needs experience and we don't have that because we've just started fending for ourselves. See the circle there? It's scary!!

Yeah I do. There is a 50% chance that you'll screw up this important decision. But whatever happens, I'm sure that eventually everything will be alright. It always does.

Chance? Probability? I hate that shit!

Hey...from the time the right gametes fused to create you, to this day, every event had multiple possiblities. Even if one of those had had a different outcome, who knows...where you would have been. Yet we're having this conversation here today. You're healthy, have a good family and good friends, are well (,) educated, earning, drive your own car etc. It's all been good.

But that doesn't prove anything. I'd be driving a bigger car, and have eight pack abs for all I know. How do I know that the best outcomes have happened to me?

I guess what you're saying is right...and there have been times when better things could have happened. But you'll have to agree when I say that on an average, probability has been kind to you and there is no reason for that trend to change all of a sudden.

So I should not be scared because I have probability and statistics on my side? Is that what you're saying?

Yes

Fuck.

Language woes

"But you speak good Marathi..." is something I hear a lot. You see, because of my rather North Indian sounding name people somehow don't expect me to speak the language of the state where I was born, raised, studied and am now working. It is only when I explain the born and raised part does their confusion seem to ease away a bit. 

However, it not being my mother tongue, I lack the fluency and the vocabulary that a native Marathi speaker possesses. I get mixed up in the tenses and genders. (But hey, that is something a Marathi speaker does to Hindi as well)  Somehow, despite my best efforts, this deficiency does get exposed during every Marathi conversation that I have, forcing the speaker to switch to Hindi or English. Honestly, that hurts just a little bit. But I have no problems in accepting that my Marathi is constrained, and that I am working on it.

So what about my mother tongue? Once again, I am almost there but not quite. I can neither read nor write Punjabi. I can understand it very well. I can even speak it, but here's where things get bizarre. I don't speak Punjabi at home. Well, for the most part anyways. When I was a little kid, my parents in a stroke of genius decided that they would teach me Hindi so that I'd pick up the language and thus have no problems in  "talking to people outside the family" (their explanation). Suffice to say that while my parents succeeded in their plans, with so much Punjabi being spoken around the house I picked it up too. Unfortunately, since I don't get to speak it much, any half decent Punjabi speaker identifies the rustiness in my speaking and quickly switches to Hindi or English. A complete fail here as well.

Then I must be good at Hindi, no? I used to live under the same impression. But the two years (and beautiful ones at that!) I spent in the Hindi heartland of the country taught me that what I thought was Hindi, was in fact Bambaiya, which is Hindi of unsure genders and tenses, along with a spattering of Marathi wherever applicable. I can still see the bewildered looks on people's faces whenever I called an amrood a peru, got confused between a kakdi and a kheera or between halwa and sheera and so forth, whenever I announced main jaata hai or told an elder aap chalo/aao/khao etc. No luck here either.

So this brings us to English, the language of the queen, the medium of instruction (officially at least) at all my places of learning. One would expect me to be good at it. But my cup of woe still overfloweth. My school was dominated by Hindi, nay, Bambaiya, college was a Marathi bastion and Kanpur, as we know, is a chaste Hindi speaking area. So whatever English I know, I have learned from books, newspapers, movies and television. While this means that I possess a decent enough vocabulary, the 'text to speech' interface is still pretty primitive and I can still be found fishing for words in a conversation with someone who speaks the language more fluently than I do. Being able to think in English and speak it are two different things altogether you see.

So there we have it. Gaping flaws in all the four languages I claim as my own. I do not know if and when the day will ever come when I will be able to confidently communicate in either of them. If it doesn't, maybe I'll  invent a language of my own.

How to survive office meetings

If you're a young professional (comme moi) and have recently joined the ranks of the employed, chances are that you've been involved in one or more 'meetings' at your workplace. Now meetings come in all shapes and sizes but I am talking about the ones where you don't know jack about whatever it is that's going on, but are expected to participate nonetheless since your post graduate course had a subject that contained a fleeting reference to the topic which is to be discussed at the meeting, the same one you never paid any serious attention to out of sheer laziness. Sound familiar?

If so, fear not...you're not alone. Here are some pointers which will not just help you survive this atrocity, but may even allow you to leave the conference room with your head held high. But before we do that, let's quickly brush up on our basics.

The People

1. The Meeter: Usually your superior/boss, s/he is the one responsible for bringing you to the meeting. S/he is not responsible for getting you out though.

2. The Meetee: It could be a client who's paying you, or someone you are paying to get some work done,  either ways, the basic principle remains the same i.e the meeters are a bunch of idiots.

3. You

The Location

Like football matches, meetings can be held at home or away. In this case, home means your place of work and away usually means the meetees' place of work. Meetings at neutral venues too are possible, but rarely heard of (meaning, the author has not experienced them so far). Also like football matches, home advantage is always preferred.

Things to carry

A pen/pencil, something to write (a notebook or a few pieces of paper), your business card and your wits.

All right then, now that we know the basics, lets move on to the advanced levels. Since the whole point of this exercise is to project your inherent knowledge/intelligence over and above its true value, pay careful attention to the following points.

1. Walk the talk: Walk into the meeting like you own the place. If the meeting is in your own office, quickly grab the farthest available seating place from the meetees. If you're on an away mission, do the same. Just remember to ask permission before plonking your butt down.

Why this works: Walking in with confidence shows that you are, well, confident. This is especially required in cases where you're not confident. Asking permission from the hosts signifies that you're cautious and know your limitations. Also note the subtle exploitation of home advantage.

2. Card Swap: Once all the participants are in and have settled down (usually marked by a 1 degree rise in room temperature) start exchanging business cards. After the cards have been exchanged, spend a couple of minutes familiarising yourself with the names, designations and qualifications of the meetees. 

Why this works: Initiating information exchange is always good. It show the meetees that you're not intimidated by them, and it shows your bosses that you can hold your own in an alien situation. This will also give you an idea of the hierarchy amongst the meetees.

3. Flow with it: During any meeting, digressing from the topic is as common as the common cold. It is bound to happen. When it does, do not try to bring the discussion back to the original topic. Let it sway as far off course as possible. Take a few swings yourself if you're comfortable with the pseudo-topic. Try and bring up one if you're not. If you can't do anything, pretend to agree with the dominant party.

Why this works: After the meeting, no one can complain that you didn't speak much. This gives you a chance to show that you're well versed in topics other than work and also hides the fact that you didn't know much about the original topic.

4. Silence is golden: Body language plays an important part in all meetings. While we've already discussed the significance of a confident entry at the onset, the following table gives you a guide on how best to use non-verbal communication.

If	You
Your boss cracks a joke	Laugh heartily
The meetee cracks a joke	Copy your boss' reaction
Your boss is answering a question	Stare blankly into space and occassionally scribble something (this will make it seem like you're thinking)
You have to answer a question	Tell them whatever you know (Do not fudge. If you don't know anything, say so)
The meetees are being criticized	Pretend to agree with your boss
Your boss is being criticized	Let him have it, lest the critique starts flowing your way
You're being criticized	Accept it. Take copious notes and if at all you have something to say, wait for the daggers to stop flying

5.Improvise: Despite all the worldly wisdom the author has gained over the course of several meetings, it is possible that the situation you find yourself in is not covered in the above treatise. In such cases, the only thing that works is improvisation. Just remember two things:
A. Do not make the people who're paying you look bad.
B. Do not use more than half of your lying prowess. There is a high chance that these lies will come back and bite you in the posterior, so smaller the better.

So that's it! Five simple points (and a few sub-points) to make the first steps in your professional life a little bit easier. I'm sure you realize that compiling this guide has been a pain staking process, and it needs to be updated constantly. So, send only your positive feedback to me as I love hearing good things from you :)

Disclaimer: Use at your own risk. The author shall not be held responsible for any embarrassments that might arise due to the use of this guide.

Open Letter to Linkin Park

Dear Linkin Park,

I can't believe I haven't done this before. After being a fan of your work for years, this is the first time that I am writing to you. Honestly though, I probably wouldn't be writing to you today either, had it not been for your latest exploit, your fourth studio album.

I must have been in school, when I first heard In the end...that iconoclast of a song which completely blew me away. Never could I have imagined that the cocktail of rap and rock would be so potent as to give me a high lasting many many years. The music and the style was fresh, no doubt and the presentation too was way ahead of its time. Nu metal was what they called it. I was hooked. But if I had to choose one thing that really bound me to you, I'd have to pick the lyrics.

You seemed to capture my emotions better than me. Growing up is never an easy time. In fact, it's overwhelming. Your songs gave words to feelings I knew had, but could never express. My boyhood angst, my teenage frustrations, my tribulations as a young adult...all seemed to find company in your songs. Not one or two, but each and every song of your first two albums. Numb, Breaking the habit, By myself...the list just goes on.

With your third album, you chose to highlight the folly of our ways and remind us of the impending doom they are almost certain to produce. Honestly, it had none of the elements which attracted me to your music in the first place. You were talking about issues that were affecting people all over the world, while your earlier songs focused more on the individual. A daring change, yes, but I was afraid I was losing my connection with you. It was as if in the three years you took to come up with this album, you had grown up and matured, while I was still stuck in that turbulent phase from where we had started together. However, nothing could have prepared me for what was to come next.

A thousand suns takes the doomsday theme a step, no, make that a thousand steps further. If Minutes to Midnight took off on a tangent from your earlier works, this one reaches a different plane altogether. The overall feel of this album is dark and profound...even scary at some places. Few others would have attempted to capture the ethos of a post apocalyptic earth, let alone do it beautifully. And when you end the album with words like "Love, keeps us kind", it puts in perspective the message one needs to take away from the album. Brilliant.

You do know that after Meteora, you could have continued making nu metal albums. The fans and the critics wouldn't have minded. You could have made a ton of money and sailed into the sunset a few years later. But you chose to keep evolving your music and the messages it conveys. You dared, and thus, are winners. So here's to change then, may you continue blurring genres and may your work always give me enough food for thought. Cheers!

Anirudh.

Robot - Learnings from the movie

How does one build an andro-humanoid robot (AHR)? This question had been bothering me for quite some time now. So, to get in-depth knowledge of this tedious process, I decided to watch a documentary on the same subject, very aptly titled "Robot". I was told that the robot in this documentary was modelled on Superstar Rajnikanth which added to my eagerness to watch it. As expected, the experience was vastly rewarding and I am compelled, nay, honoured to share my learnings with you.

1. When working on the building of an AHR, do not shave. You will save a lot of time and by the end, you will look like a tapasvi from the good old days. Thus establishing the connection between modern day research and centuries old tapasya in one fell swoop.

2. Order the water/fire/insect resistant parts for your robot from your local hardware store only. Not only do you get to reduce the carbon footprint of the project, but unboxing the stuff will actually give your assistants some real work to do.

3. When using your AHR to drive your car, always ask it to follow your instructions. It doesn't matter whether you've programmed a 'driving module' into its memory or not.

4. At any demonstration, people will ask your robot random-ass questions like Fibonacci numbers, prime numbers, existence of God etc. It is best if you can prepare it for them.

5. Most importantly, remember you are the BOSS (pun intended) so whenever the workload gets too hectic, take a break and sing a song with your ladylove. It is essential that this activity be carried out in an exotic foreign location.

6. These robots are great for cheating at exams, and so can be used to further the cause of education in the country.

7. Street gangs in Chennai do have foreign recruits these days. Prepare your AHR accordingly in case he has to face them in a hand to hand combat situation. It is also important to install heavy duty castors in its feet for any emergency train chases.

8. It's probably best if you don't get influenced by the criticism from your old thesis advisor. It's likely that he's pissed at you for not wishing him on teachers day.

9. Even if you do listen to him, please do not program emotions or 'reverse map' hormones into your AHR. This is for your own safety. More so, if you happen to have a super hot girlfriend.

10. Do not skimp on a good 'mosquito mode' for your AHR. This will allow it to communicate with those miniature vampires when the need arises.

11. When using your AHR for destructive purposes like suicide bombings etc., it is best to dress it up in loud clothes and garish hairstyles. Subtlety only applies to human terrorists.

12. Sing another song. You might want to use a lot of CGI this time.

13. If, for some reason, you have to destroy your AHR, chop it up into little pieces and dispose the pieces in your regular trashcan. You might also realize the importance of point # 2 at this juncture.

13. In case of a malfunctioning AHR, check its batteries. In case your AHR starts behaving like a dark overlord hell bent on destroying everything, he may have been hacked. You might want to search him for malicious, red coloured chips.

14. Before we forget, sing another song. Probably in Machu-Pichu.

15. In the end, you're going to realize that the AHR you created is too smart for the world's good, and you are going to want to dismantle it for good. At this point, you should probably ask yourself why you created it in the first place, and whether or not formatting its hard drive would have been a better option.

16. When you do get the answer, please let me know.

On a more serious note, the movie Robot does touch upon some very pertinent issues related to human-machine relationships of the future, especially in the first half. Absolutely comparable in its execution to any damn Hollywood movie of a similar nature. Where it chooses to display its Kollywood legacy, is in the second half ,thereby making it a tad too long and melodramatic for my liking. Nonetheless, it redeems some of its lost ground with a fantastic climax. It'd also have been great had the makers set the movie in a more futuristic Chennai city instead of the present  day, you know, just to add that extra bit of fiction to all the science.

Oh and if you do watch this movie after reading till this point, pliss to tell me whether or not they misspelled 'neural' in one of the opening scenes where Rajnikanth is shown programming his robot...

Open Letter to Bollywood

Dear Bollywood,

This is to inform you, that starting today, I am no longer a fan of yours. You suck. Period. I was going to add 'balls to you' but you've already taken away too much of my precious time and money for me to even think of parting with anything else now.

It wasn't always like this you know. When I was a kid, I really did look up to you. You had me believe that the world was a just place where violence was the solution to all of life's problems. A world where I could kick five bad guys' butts without breaking a fart. A world that wonderful. So, can you imagine the pain I felt when that notion was shattered? To give you some idea, it resembled a hard kick in the gonads delivered by an elder brother who obviously learned better fake karate from you than I did.

The biggest disappointment to have ever come my way because of you was my college life, rather, the lack of it. Taking a cue from you, I wore tight, blue jeans, topped them up with leather jackets (all this in the huge steam bath that is Mumbai) and put on big white sneakers, all in a bid to look 'cool'. I even befriended the customary nerd, the class repeater and the fat guy. My attendance in the canteen far exceeded that in class because those were the rules. I mean, if all your young, 40 year old boys could do it with one hand tied behind their backs, how difficult could it be? I'll tell you how difficult. It's like trying to pass a physics exam one day after you come to know that it's one of the subjects you've signed up for.

But now I have grown up. I have learned from the many disappointments you have thrown my way, like the two mentioned above. I have not sworn vendetta against anybody. There are no bad guys trying to mess with me, there are no girls I need to sing songs to. I'm just a regular guy who works 5 days a week and sleeps off the remaining 2. But there is a difference. I think. A lot. You should try it too. It's good fun.

Anyways, this new found sedentary lifestyle of mine has left me with a lot of time on my hands. So let me tell you exactly where you're stepping in the dung.

1. Leave your brains at home: The brain is an inseparable body organ. You cannot 'leave' it anywhere. So I'll personally slap the next person who tells me to 'leave my brain at home' and enjoy an xyz movie.

2. I give you, 10e6 out of 5 stars: Please stop paying critics to write rave reviews about shite movies. Not all people are not stupid.

3. The next big blockbuster: A battery of big stars, exotic locales and semi-nude babes do not make for a watchable movie. For that you need to have two things which you almost, always forget. (Hint: Both start with an 's'. One ends in a 'y' and the other in a 't').

4. I can hasz email: Stop using email forwards to force us to laugh. They were only funny the first time we read them...ten years ago. The next time you try that, I'll come and tickle you in the gut with my Wolverine claws. We'll see who laughs then.

5. Copying music/plots/scenes:  Dude, you just don't understand the power of Youtube, do you? 

6. Baah-mulaiza, aahhoon-aahhoon et al.: For god's sake, please make songs with actual lyrics in them. I'm tired of listening to 'songs' with just one word being repeated for their entire duration, and lyrics so pedestrian, a primary school kid could write better.

7. Celebrities pitching movies on music reality shows: Please! As if all these damn music reality shows on every damn channel weren't irritating enough, we now have to endure celebs coming in and selling their movie as if it were the shiniest piece of creative brilliance mankind has ever come up with. We know it's gonna suck anyways. You know what really breaks my heart? The participants singing songs starring/composed by/sung by the celeb which sound like those mentioned in (6) above.

Now I do realize that there is a section of the movie going audience who gives a rat's ass to all of the above. They are your bread and butter, and you do need to please them. But please, can the thinking man have something for keeps too? Can't you make at least one movie in a year that I can take home with me? Something that keeps playing in my head long after I've left the cinema and make me go 'aha' when I figure out some clever plot intricacy? I know it's difficult for you, but can you at least try? If that's not possible, can you at least support the few people who do make an effort to be different. Not just hat ke, but really, genuinely, different. 

But since you won't be able to do that, Im'ma switch my allegiances to American TV shows. They have enough variety and brains to keep me engaged for a  long long time. I'm not leaving you completely though...I'll watch pirated copies of your stuff too (serves you right for the overcharged tickets at cinemas). The Pakistani economy isn't going to support itself you see.

Yours disgruntedly,

Anirudh.

Bad day

Have you ever had one of those days when you wake up, and just know that it is going to be your day? You have, right? It is a useless notion. Throw it out of the window.

I was slowly realizing that marital bliss is way overrated just 6 months into my marriage. Not that anything was wrong, just that her constant talking and the need to know everything about everything was beginning to get just a tad annoying. But I had woken up that day feeling like a million dollars, so I chose not to let it bother me and indulged her. I had a hearty breakfast and was ready on time. Now that was something that hadn't happened in a long time. I gathered my wallet and handkerchief. I checked my mobile for messages or missed calls. There were none. The battery meter was showing around 66% power. But I thought I'd squeeze through the day on the remaining charge. Since I had loads of time to reach office, I decided to take the bus instead of my car. Also, I had a meeting in the afternoon, driving back home from which, would have been a nightmare.

We were the middle of July but it hadn't really rained much that year. The meteorological department had put the lack of rains down to a western disturbance or some such, and I for one was tired of lugging a redundant umbrella around all the time. I decided to let it remain at home. Now, on days when I do take the bus to work, the conductor is like my personal coin vending machine. I am not averse to flashing a Rs. 100 note for a five rupee ticket. But that day, I paid him the exact change even if it meant rummaging through my pockets for a good minute or so. He seemed pleasantly surprised.

Work that day was amazing. There was not a single dull moment all morning. Meanwhile, the wife called twice to see what I was up to. I told her about the good day I had been having, and I didn't even have to make anything up! The first half of the day passed by in a jiffy and pretty soon it was time for lunch. I left soon after for my meeting.

The client's office was a long way off, but I loved going there. It was in a part of town which still retained much of its old world charm. Besides, it was located in a Victorian era building bang in front of the famous Sivashambu temple. Another place which I loved for its historical value if not religious significance. It could not have been more than 2'o clock in the afternoon, but it was already dark. However, true to the weatherman's word, the rain stayed away. After an hour and a half's journey, I reached the client's office, only to be told that he himself was out and was expected back in another 15 minutes.

All of a sudden, there was a lot of commotion in the office. Almost all the employees were gathered in front of the TV in the reception and were watching the news. Rains had hit the city. Hard. In a matter of minutes, news crews were relaying visuals from different parts of the city under varying levels of submergence. I still had the gumption to wait for my client even as his employees started vacating the office. I waited till the last of them were ready to leave. It had become clear a long time ago that the client wasn't going to show up. But I stayed put hoping for a break in the showers. Of course it never came.

When I reached the main street it was virtually empty. Two things immediately became very clear. First, I had no reprieve from the rain courtesy of having left my umbrella at home, and second, the fear of heavy rains had driven all forms of transport away from the roads. I crossed the street and stood at the base of the steps ascending to the Sivashambu temple. I decided to call up the wife and inform her of my whereabouts. But no sooner had the call connected than she started chastising me for not taking my umbrella. The call disconnected mid way through her sermon. That's right, the battery was spent. I realized I had another lecture in the waiting at home for not charging my mobile phone. Meanwhile inside the temple, the evening aarti was going on in full swing. Apparently, the priests could not take a rain check. I decided to look for a PCO and make my SOS call before returning to the shelter of the temple. I secretly hoped it'd not be required.

My day, which had started on such a positive note was slowly disintegrating into one of the worst ones I had ever had. As if the incessant rains weren't a problem, I almost fell into a drain...twice. I was cold and hungry. My socks were wet and walking was a harrowing experience. On top of it all, there did not seem to be any PCO's around. Damn the mobile revolution. Ultimately, when I did manage to find one after walking and stumbling for almost an hour, I couldn't use it. I had given away all my change to the bus conductor that morning. I was frustrated, but there was nothing I could do. I decided to wait in the temple and started retracing my steps. I had barely reached it when I spotted something.

My car, with the wife driving it. How could she have found me? It was impossible. I mean, she hadn't given me a chance to speak during our recent conversation. How could she have known? My mind raced into overdrive trying to find answers, and that's when it hit me. She must have heard the aarti in the background when I called and figured out my location. She saw me and slowed down. I got in the car.

After I was sufficiently dry, I told her of my clever little deduction. She seemed surprised. I was surprised at her being surprised.

"No one can  find anyone based on the ringing bells of a temple in a town that literally has thousands of them."

"But, then how did you...?"

"You were very happy this morning. You were talking more than you usually do and had specifically mentioned this meeting. Don't you remember? I figured you'd be here around the time this heavy downpour started, and could use a ride home..." I could only smile. "...You should have brought your umbrella today. Now you are sure to catch a cold, and then I'll catch it too. I hate it. And what happened to your phone? I've only called you like a million times...Don't tell me its gotten wet. That is why you should listen to me.Why are you smiling? You just remembered a joke, didn't you? Yes, it's a joke and you are not telling me. You never tell me anything...." I realized that marriage has its plus sides after all. 

Have you ever had one of those days when you wake up, and just know that it is going to be your day? Well, I certainly have and that was the story of one such day.

Reunion

I'll admit that I was a bit apprehensive. After all, I was going to see her after a long time. But the moment I did, I was robbed of all my anxieties. Her beautiful face had never failed to put me at ease, and this time was no exception. It almost felt as if I had never been away.

A lot had changed since we had parted some 14 months ago. She looked a bit different. Of course she retained the same grace and charm as always, but there were a couple of new things too, indeed a sign of how she always managed to keep pace with the changing times. I'm sure she'd have noticed some changes in me too. But if you were to ask, she'd probably want the old me back. Truth be told, so would I.

We sat on the sill of the big window in her room. It was raining outside and the atmosphere was lovely. After the initial pleasantries were exchanged and the conversation started flowing, memories came cascading back. We looked back at the first time we had seen each other, the first words that were exchanged between us, even our first fight. Everything was revisited. All highlights of the days gone by, yet today they were nothing more than specks of dust just like the ones the rain was depositing on the window pane in front of us. We laughed a lot that day...we laughed till there were tears in our eyes. And then I couldn't hold it in any longer.

I wanted to be with her. I missed her patiently listening to my rants and her unbiased advice, I missed her when I was in the mood for some fun, I missed her when I was sad. I missed her on glorious mornings, and at the end of long, tiring days. No one would ever be able to gauge the magnitude of my longing for her.

I told her how much I liked being with her. That was about the only time I could be me, and do things I really wanted, when I wanted to do them. The freedom and space she gave me to grow were so difficult to obtain anywhere else. Why couldn't we be together always? Why did this reunion have to have a time limitation? Why did we have to go back to our now separate worlds at the end of it?

She remained stoic, even as I was pouring my heart out to her. She had a far-away look in her eyes which meant that she was thinking. I knew that prodding her to reveal her thoughts at that time was futile. She'd give me all the answers when she was ready. She'd give me all the answers when I was ready.

We passed the remainder of our sparse time together talking and doing some of the things we both did back in the day. Pretty soon, it was time for me to leave. I was quiet. I hate saying goodbye, and this was only the hardest ever.

 "Let me show you something" she said, and took me back to the window. It had stopped raining now, and the combination of moisture from the rain and dust had rendered it a bit dirty.

"Can you see outside?" she asked. "Not very clearly. What's the point you are trying to make?"

"That this teaches us something. Just like you have to clean the window to get a good view of the outside, you have to let go of the past, so that you can enjoy the time that is yet to come."

"But I'm afraid of cleaning the window because a dirty window reflects what is on the inside. I know it is the one place I can always find you. A spotless window would mean letting go of the past and would also mean letting go of you. I can't do that. I don't want to forget you. What will I do with a future that you are not part of?"

"Oh you silly, silly boy! That will never happen. All the things that have transpired between us have left permanent etchings on your heart, as they have on mine. Try as you may, you can never erase those."

I was still not convinced. She then took my hand in hers, and started to join the specks of dust that had been deposited on the window by the falling rain a few minutes ago. While it seemed random at first, when she finished, I could clearly see a zig-zag path. She placed her hand at one end of the line and mine at the other.

"See how we are connected? And we will always be. Unlike the dust on this window, the markings on our hearts will forever remain, you just have to find a way to connect them. Sure, sometimes that way may not be straightforward, or apparent, but eventually you will always find a path to me no matter where you go. Just remember everything that I have taught you."

She smiled, and so did I. I could now see clearly what she had been explaining for so long. Our togetherness was independent of physical proximity. I felt reassured and light, as if a burden had been lifted from my shoulders. I was ready to move on.

As I was about to step out she called out to me once again.

"When will you visit again?"

"Soon, maa. Very soon."

Strike

Ho-hum, woke up to another Tuesday morning. Nothing unusual. I went through my morning routines and was prepared to have just another work day, but the auto rickshaw unions of Mumbai had other plans for me. All of a sudden, they decided to go on a 'flash' strike. Later in the day, I realized that the taxi unions were also involved and furthermore, my brethren in the rajdhani were also suffering the same. Still later in the day, I read that the strike had been called off. WTF, right?

This got me thinking about the veracity of this entire episode. Were these fuckers fornicators justified in holding the world's best city along with India's capital to ransom just like that? Intuitively, the answer was no. But I thought I had to have proof. So, using the awesome power of Google and Microsoft Excel, I did exactly that.

Mumbai

CNG currently sells at Rs. 24.65/kg and its new price is expected to be Rs. 31.47/kg.

Since we measure fuel consumption and engine efficiency in liters, it'd be prudent to convert the costs accordingly.

The density of CNG is 0.55-0.65 kg/lit. Assuming an average value of 0.6 kg/lit, a kilogram of CNG roughly translates to 1.67 liters of the same. So, the cost used for all calculations is Rs. 14.76/lit (old) and Rs. 18.84/lit (new).

The auto fares are Rs. 9 for the first kilometer and Rs. 5 for every subsequent kilometer. The unions want to increase these to Rs. 15 and Rs. 8 respectively. 

Let us conservatively assume an engine efficiency of 25 kmpl. (A very very low estimate. Actual figures border the 35 kmpl mark).

Given all this, if a passenger in Mumbai hires an autorickshaw to travel to his destination 3 km away, lets look at costs in the present fuel regime.

For a distance of 3 km, the fuel utilized would be 3/25 = 0.12 liters.

Fuel cost for the rickshaw owner = 0.12*14.76 = Rs. 1.77

Fare for the passenger = 9+2*5 = Rs. 19

Now see what will happen if the government accedes to the rickshaw unions' demands.

Fuel utilized = 0.12 liters.

Fuel cost for the rickshaw owner = 0.12*18.84 = Rs. 2.26

Fare for the passenger = 15+2*8 = Rs. 31

This means that for an 27% increase in fuel cost, the passenger is being charged 63% more. Is this justified?

In the case of taxis, let us assume a fuel efficiency of 15 kmpl. For the same distance of 3 km the equation is once again stacked against the passenger. The present regime charges Rs. 14 for the first kilometer and Rs. 7.5 for every subsequent kilometer. The proposed regime hikes these figures to Rs. 16 and Rs. 9 - Rs. 11 respectively.

Fuel consumed = 3/15 = 0.2 liters.

Fuel cost for the taxi driver = 0.2*14.76 = Rs. 2.95 under the present regime and 0.2*18.84 = Rs. 3.77 under the proposed regime.

Fare for the passenger = 14+2*7.5 = Rs. 29 at present and 16+2*11 = Rs. 38 under the proposed regime.

Once again, the passenger pays 31% more while the taxi owner's fuel costs go up by 28%. This is also one of the reasons why taxi drivers refuse to ply short distances. As the distance goes up, the benefits to the taxi driver increase.

Delhi

Since Delhi autos and taxis hardly ply on the government approved rates, it's morally wrong for them to go on strike. I am not going to waste space here showing you how in a hypothetical world, where Delhi autos and taxis actually use the meters installed in their vehicles, the passenger would still end up paying a lot more. Seriously, they should quietly continue to fleece people like they always have, otherwise for the want of a nail the shoe will be lost.

Now I do understand that there are a lot of other expenses involved in owning a rickshaw / taxi. There are maintenance charges, EMIs, emergency charges, routine family expenses etc. But, haphazardly increasing fares is not going to help any of that. If anything, once they start earning more they'll start spending more too and overall, will remain in the same place financially. And how is going on strikes going to help? They'll end up losing whatever money they were making in the first place!

I hope I have now convinced you just how royally we are being fucked fornicated with. I encourage you to show these numbers and calculations to everyone who cares to know. I am hopeful that someone in a position of power will see this and realize that the only rides passengers can be taken on are the ones that they want to go on.

Notes:

1. Pliss to bring to my notice any factual / mathematical errors asap.

2. CNG Prices courtesy TOI
3. CNG physical properties sourced from MGL 
4. Auto rickshaw engine efficiency data obtained here
5. Auto rickshaw fares courtesy rediff news
6. Mumbai taxi fares courtesy HT
7. Delhi taxi fares courtesy sify finance

There is more to this strike than meets the eye. In Mumbai, this strike was orchestrated by Mr. Nitesh Rane, who happens to be the son of veteran politician Mr. Narayan Rane. This was obviously an attempt to bring him into mainstream politics from the fringe worlds he currently inhabits. The taxi and auto owners, poorer by a day's earnings were mere pawns.

Gym Species

The gymnasium these days has graduated from being the abode of a few muscled men to a place where all sorts of people converge. While you can thank Salman Khan for making gymming hugely  popular in the country, a look at the different types of people found in a gym can be equally interesting. Having observed these specimens from a close range for almost a year now, allow me to share the results of my research with you.


Species no.1: The instructor

A species essential to the survival of any gymnasium habitat. They usually have chiseled bodies and perfect workout techniques. Sometimes, when they are not busy ogling at the hotchick / hulk, they will help other species exercise too. Occasionally, you will find an out of shape instructor too, but at that point, he'd have acquired an additional qualification like 'floor manager' or 'personal trainer'.

Associate species: All

Most likely to be seen at: All over the gym

Most likely to say: "..three...four...up...five...six...push..."

Species no. 2: The hulk

This all-male species is the pride of the gym. Having been working out for the better parts of their adult lives, these men are the proud owners of bulging biceps and toned tummies. Unfortunately, most people belonging to this species do not have IQs as developed as their triceps and are only capable of holding conversations with fellow members of their species or the instructors. Nonetheless, they serve as role models for the fatties, scourges for the wannabes and eye candy for the hotchicks.


Associate species: Instructors, other hulks.

Most likely to be seen at: Near the bench press machine, or the dumbbell stack.

Most likely to say:  "Aaj kitna set marega?"

Species no. 3: The hotchick

This all female species is god's gift to the gym. You see, half the gym's male membership is because of them. Now they don't actually need to work out since their exercise needs are taken care of by constantly balancing numerous boyfriends. But when they do grace the gym by their presence, they can be seen spending long hours on the treadmill without doing any actual exercise. They'll just walk very slowly, bitch with the hotchick on the adjoining treadmill and ogle at the hulks. This species has never been seen doing any rigourous exercises till date.

Associate species: None (the price for hotness be solitude)

Most likely to be seen at: On the treadmill or near the water cooler.

Most likely to say: "Aaj a/c band hai kya?"

Species no. 4: The fatty

This species is the bread and butter of the gym. Comprising of sweating males and panting females, this is the most dynamic species with more and more members joining every day, while the current members hope to join the ranks of the hulks / hotchicks. They serve as good attention diverters for the instructors and the hulks who can often be heard cracking jokes about them.


Associate species: Other fatties

Most likely to be seen at: The treadmill, the elliptical machine or the cycle.

Most likely to say: "Aaj maine poora 10 gm wajan kam kiya"

Species no. 5: The wannabe

This species is not interested in exercising any parts of their bodies, save the muscles of their larynges. They have a (often misplaced) high sense of self importance. They can be mostly seen hiding from the instructors and giving unsolicited advice to the fatties. They are the ones who complain about the music being too loud / instructors not being available / equipment being faulty etc

Associate species: None

Most likely to be seen at: In the locker room, near the water cooler, near the a/c, tormenting the fatties.


Most likely to say: "3 set kaun marega...pagal hai kya?"


Species no. 6: The quickie

This species is a sub-species of the fatty, but certain characteristics distinguish the two. These people are, as the name suggests, very quick. In fact, they'll try all the exercises the gym has to offer in a desperate attempt to lose weight, in one day. They'll then remain absent for the next 20 days as they recover from the extreme muscle damage. They'll quickly ditch the gym for quick slim pills / fad diets / bengali babas. In fact anything that promises them quick weight loss.

Associate species: They are not around that long to make any associations


Most likely to be seen at: All the machines one day, nowhere the next.

Most likely to say: They are as yet unheard from.


Species no. 7: The hardworker

A relatively unknown species in the gym. They come in regularly and work out religiously under the guidance of the instructors. They are adept at fending off the occasional wannabe who mistakes them for a fatty and tries to offer his expert advice. However, they are never taken seriously and their grievances are often lost behind the pantings of the fatties and the wails of the wannabes.


Associate species: All, except the wannabes.

Most likely to be seen at: Wherever the instructor tells them, waiting in line behind the hulks to use the bench press

Most likely to say: "Mera number kab aayega?"

P.S: Many thanks to JAM magazine for introducing this format to me.

Quarter Life Crisis

Call it a gift of the modern times, or just young people with a tad too much time on their hands, but quarter life crisis is a very real thing, and it is happening to a lot of people around you.

It all starts out fine. You're a kid, cute and all that, the entire world is at your beck and call. Troubles start as you start growing up. There is so much to do, so much not to do, friends, school, learning and education. Things only go downhill as you progress into your teens. In addition to the above, you then have to deal with acne, hair in the wrong places, the opposite sex, crushes, link ups, break ups and what not. As you move further ahead, more sinister matters crop up. These include, but are not limited to - higher studies, career, job, job satisfaction, getting peer approval for everything, marriage, kids and the entire gamut. Give me a break!

So you see, in present times, the first 25 or so years pass a person by so rapidly, that he has no clue what hit him / her. He / she has only been following someone else's bidding all this while. And then when you reach your mid-twenties, the little voice in your head that has been timid and weak all this while starts getting louder, to the point where you can't ignore it anymore. And that's when you realize that its time you took the reins.

This however, is easier said than done. There are so many knots to undo! The whole process is so daunting that you start doubting the feasibility of it all. This uncertainty, this tentativeness, this indecisiveness is what leads to the crisis, of which I too am a victim.

Whether or not I now change based on my inputs (inputs from others around hardly matter) and what will be the magnitude of such a change (if it happens) is something only time will tell. For the moment, I am going to put down a list of things, off the top of my head, that typify my quarter life crisis, and maybe you can compare it to yours...in no particular order -

I wish my grandparents were still around. There is nothing conflicting this ; it's an absolute truth.


I want to be a kid again, but I don't like my Mother treating me like one.


I want more authority and freedom, but not necessarily more responsibility.


I want my job and my interests to match, but I myself am forever changing the definition of interesting.


I want my friends to spend more time with me, but I also want them to understand when I am busy and can't be with them.

I want longer weekends, but when there is a holiday I get easily bored.


I want to sleep more everyday, but don't want to feel guilty afterwards.


I want better clothes, better gadgets and better accessories, but I also want to save money.


I want to go back to Kanpur and do a Ph.D, but I don't want to leave my family and friends behind again.


I want to know how everything works, but don't like it if the explanations become too complex.


I hate to be bossy, but I don't like it when my younger sister doesn't listen to me.


I want to watch cartoons, but I also want to know what's breaking in the news at the same instant.


I want to eat all the good stuff all the time, but I don't want to get fat.


I hate being religious, yet when I have a problem, "God help me" is the first thought I have.

I am pathetic with goodbyes, yet I want people to miss me afterwards.


I want to live, not just exist.


I don't want a different life, I want my life to make a difference, something that is worth it all, something that I can be proud of.

I hope you went through all of them. I also hope that you found resonance in some places at least, and you are just a wee bit more comfortable in the knowledge that you are not alone.

P.S: I will add more points of conflict to the above list as and when they strike me. You can contribute too! Just drop me a line :)

Walking the talk

On most weekday evenings on my way back home from work, I choose to ditch the rickshaw and walk. There are no ulterior motives involved here, its just that I find it illogical to wait 20 minutes (the time it takes to get a rickshaw) for a 10 minute ride (the time it subsequently takes to reach home). There are a lot of benefits to walking you know, I can listen to music, improve fitness levels (despite the heavy pollution en route) and most importantly, spend some quality time with myself. Just me and my sub conscience.We do talk a lot, and on this particular day, the topic was "India".

"Whats it with us and civic sense man? People just don't get it, do they? I mean, look at this idiot..as if we need any more paan stains. Discharging his weapon right next to the guy selling vegetables on the pavement"

A few steps later...

"Hawkers on the pavement. What a concept! Conveniently located, selling vegetables garnished with local dust, chemicals and paan spit (among other things). Up yours, big bazaar. Anyways, why do you think the government constructs footpaths?" "Beats me". I forfeited. "So that they can double up as mini commercial areas. See, from the vendors to the customers and occasionally, anti-encroachment officials, everyone benefits. If only they could maintain them properly..."

Some more steps later...

"The municipality probably had the best interests of the citizens in mind when they decided to leave a few manholes open, or stones and other stuff dumped at random places on the footpaths. You see, health is a two-way thingy. In addition to the consumption of a healthy dust, chemicals and paan spit infused diet it includes exercise. Exercise that you can get by jumping across open manholes, swimming if you happen to fall into the sewer below and dodging the zillion odd objects dumped on the footpaths. My god these guys are good."

Another few steps later, I reach the lakeside promenade.

"Little wonder then that there are so many health conscious people out here today." Ouch! A fat man bumps into me and just walks away. No apologies. "Maybe he's in a hurry to buy his quota of healthy, dust, chemicals and paan spit infused vegetables." Ouch again! This time, I bump into a lady who is walking very slowly. I raise a hand in apology. No reaction from the lady, just a tired glance. "See, she must be one of the regular exercisers here at the roadside hurdle course. Must have been on her cool down lap. Or was she on her warm up lap?" "Never mind" I said.

Another few steps later, I reach an intersection that I have to cross, and avoid vehicles from four different directions.

"Now we know the secret behind India's pristine physical health, but what about mental agility? That comes from accomplishing such difficult maneuvers such as crossing a busy intersection, and avoiding being hit by vehicles coming from 4 different directions. What, you are on the zebra crossing and you feel the vehicles should respect that? Dude, its a zebra crossing, its made for zebras, not donkeys like you". (My sub conscience is surprisingly strict with me).

I am now at this place where there are a number of electronics stores one after the other. People crowd outside every one of them. Ti's the cricket season after all.

"You can't blame the people. See, all good things in India are free. When exercise is free, what makes you think we'll spend money on getting score updates". True that. I get additional health benefits that day as I snake my way between all the match gazers in order to move forward.

As I get closer to home, the sarcasm starts to melt away. This time, I start my tirade and force my sub conscience to listen. "This is so bad. Once, just once I wish that everybody sees this the way I do. We've forgotten the civics lessons from school in this mad rat race that is today's life. Just once I wish that people would stop desecrating the streets and public property, that they would be nicer, say their sorrys and thank yous, that the footpaths would be clean and the streets better, that motorists would respect pedestrians and a driving license would be a proof of competence, not ability. For once, I wish people would understand that there is a difference between being literate and being educated. God, there is so much not happening in India today. Mediocrity seems to have become the accepted quality standard everywhere. How I wish there was a magic wand to make things better. But who am I kidding? There is no such thing, there never can be. How then will things change, if they ever do. Who is going to bring about these changes? Who has the power and the will to do that?"

"You!"

I was taken aback. It was true. The answer was right there. It was me. I am the agent of change. The days of being passive are long gone. I am the one. I have to start setting things right. I have the responsibility of shaping India's destiny, and I am going to do a good job of it.

"Yourself..."

Yes, me, myself. But wait a minute, that is not my sub conscience. It generally speaks to me in a strict tone, and the voice I recognize. But this was a strange voice, and it sounded....irritated.

"Yourself, blue shirt...get out of the way. You are walking in the middle of the damn road. You wanna get run over or something?" Embarrassed, I hurriedly walked away.

And that's when I understood. I was so lost in all the thoughts that I never realized when I went from the edge of the road to its center and in one single action, managed to do all the things I was cribbing about seconds earlier.

There has been enough thinking. There have been too many calculations, analyses, simulations, projections and forecasts. Now its time we actually did something. Its time project India moved out of the drawing boards. Planning and doing are complementary activities. People who do things without planning, or people who keep on planning things without doing are equally inefficient. They say that every great journey begins but with one single step. The time to take that step for India has come.

My sub conscience was back, and with the right message this time.

When the sparks flew...

It was a Sunday evening. I had to go to the market to buy some things, which takes about 10 minutes to reach by road from my house. General laziness meant that I was not going to walk all the way, add to that my environmental concerns and the only possible mode of transport left (other than a flying carpet) was the public bus.

So I took the bus to the market, the fact that I had to spend 20 minutes at the bus stop doing a whole lot of nothing was offset by the happy realization that I was not polluting the environment (or at least sharing my carbon footprint with 50 other people), so that was good. Anyways, I reached the market, bought what I needed and before long, it was time to head back. So I went and stood in line, waiting for the bus to arrive.

It takes top notch engineering, sheer determination and God's ample blessings to keep the Thane municipal buses running despite the despicable condition they are in. But seeing as to how it was a Sunday, the first two were in short supply so the buses were more delayed than usual. Now this particular bus stop which I was at lies on a very busy arterial road that takes traffic away from Thane's railway station into the city, consequently, it is full of vehicles at all times of the day. Also, the road curves in what car racing enthusiasts would recognize as a chicane right in front of the bus stop. It is a very small one but it is there. As I was making these observations to myself, a speeding auto rickshaw crossed the chicane leaving in its wake...a trail of sparks.

Red..hot..smoking..beautiful. They rolled carefree on the surface of the road for a few seconds before oxidizing away into oblivion. But they had definitely caught my attention. I looked up to see if anyone else had noticed them, but people around me were busy fidgeting with their cell phones or looking bored. Nobody seemed to care. And then they were there again! A speeding SUV was their parent this time. Wonderful! I thought to myself...realizing that the size of the vehicle was not a factor in the production of these mini pyrotechnics. A few more vehicles of all shapes and sizes passed by after the SUV, but there were no fireworks to be seen.

What could be common to a puny auto rickshaw and a 1500 kg SUV? Could it be that the road surface was not perfectly level causing the undersides of vehicles to graze against it. When traveling at a decent speed, the friction was sure to lead to sparks. Yes, that had to be it. But just then I saw another rickshaw which was traveling at a slower speed go over the chicane and yet again there were sparks. Now I was really intrigued. Obviously the size of the vehicle was not a factor and now speed had been eliminated too. What was left?

Faults in the vehicles themselves? Possible, but highly improbable given the close to mint condition of the SUV. Sudden braking causing the brake drums to heat up? Okay, but there were no screeching sounds. Broken exhaust pipes? But they were too quiet for that. Nothing seemed to fit. Just then I remembered that the SUV was the third vehicle to pass the chicane after the first rickshaw and the other rickshaw was the seventh vehicle to pass after the SUV. Could this seemingly random production of sparks be following a mathematical series? Three dots in an infinite space can never help, but I hopefully kept observing every vehicle that passed the spot...but there were no sparks. Looked like the glow-show was over.

My bus arrived just then and I was shoved inside. But the question kept burning inside my head...but why? but why only those three automobiles? but why not the others? but this but that but but butt. I reckoned my head would start smoking anytime. And then it hit me...

Burning...butt...smoking...of course! The seemingly random, unexplained sparks were nothing but cigarette butts! The people in those three automobiles had to have been smoking, probably they had finished the fag and were throwing it away after the last puff...at that time it is still alight and if thrown on the ground, a few loose, burning pieces of paper and tobacco could give rise to the sparks I saw. Everything fit so beautifully! It was one of those times when I felt wise and naive at the same time. So much for my scientific pursuits though...they would have to wait for another time to spark forth :)

Of receptions, biryanis and protests.

Last December, I along with a friend of mine had to go to Hyderabad for another friend’s wedding reception. Simple enough you say? Book your tickets, go to Hyderabad, come back…what more is there? You’re right, there is nothing more to it, even I thought the same way. But once I had made the trip I realized that there was a lot more to it…read on.

It never happened...almost

Till the last moment, I was not sure if I was going to go or not. I had a lot of things going on here at the time and didn’t know if leaving them was the best thing to do. We didn’t even have tickets till the day before we were supposed to leave. But Abhijit made one last attempt by invoking the Tatkal quota and we had our tickets. Just like that, defying all logic or convention. The second major hurdle was getting leave from work since we were to leave on a Thursday night and we work in the same office, I was very skeptical if our bosses would agree. But there too we did not face any problems. The trip was well and truly on.

The big switch

So on the fateful evening, we reached CST well in time, found our bogie and seats and had just settled down when I felt the urge to check the reservation chart. I went out and to my horror, I could not find our names in it. At that moment, I just realized that everything that had happened up to that point was too good to be true. We were in the correct bogie, the correct seats, even the correct train and date. Then why were our names missing from the reservation chart. I cursed the railway software for this befuddling error and decided to make one last thorough check of the chart before calling in the authorities. I went over every name in that chart till I came to the bottom and to my utter relief, our names were there! But wait what were they doing at the bottom of the chart? Apparently, we had been upgraded and allotted seats in a 3-AC compartment of the same train. The devil software from a few minutes ago turned hero as I rushed in to tell Abhijit. He too did not believe it at first and wanted to see it with his own eyes. As he came running back confirming the discovery, we realized we had moments before the train started, to cover around 200 meters of a crowded railway platform to reach the a/c compartments. The next opportunity to make the switch would only present itself at Kalyan, a good 40 minutes away and we were not so sure the TC’s would wait that long. So we ran for it…and the train had already started moving when we hauled our luggage and selves into it. The adventure was well and truly underway.

Southern surprise

This was only the second time I was visiting the south of India. My first visit had happened when I was a 9 month old toddler, so next morning, I woke up around 8 when the train had halted at a station called Bijapur in Karnataka. As I looked out of the window, I realized there was something different about this station. Before I could realize what that was, the train had moved off. Our next halt was at Gulbarga. It was here that it struck me. The stations were so clean! A far cry from the crowded and dirty railway stations that I had seen thus far. Very good, or as the French would say, très bien!


Here we are…

We reached Hyderabad around 12:30 in the afternoon and were received by our friend Arpan. Our other friends Praveen, Lohit and Sreevalsa were already in Hyderabad and were supposed to pick us up at the station. As we sat waiting for them, we realized we didn’t have return tickets! We made an unsuccessful trip to the booking centre and in the end, decided that we would make the return journey by bus.

Anyways, after some time, Praveen met us at the station and informed us that he and the others were going gift-shopping for the new couple. Rukku had made arrangements at a place close to his house for us friends to stay and we could go there,they would join us later, he said. Once we reached the place, forget about lunch, forget about freshening up, we just got talking. The three of us had a lot of catching up to do. While talking, we fell asleep only to be awakened by a knock on the door. It was Rukku himself! We congratulated the new groom in unison when his father entered and reminded us that we had not eaten lunch. What a valid point. So we proceeded to his house for one of the best lunches I have ever had in my entire life. Post lunch, the combination of fatigue from the journey and complex carbohydrates from the lunch ensured we did not waste a single minute falling asleep. Bliss.

Reception

The reception was to be held that evening at 7. Praveen, Lohit and Sreevalsa came back from their shopping expedition at 6:30 and awoke us from our slumber. After a few minutes of regrouping, we thought it wise to start readying ourselves for the reception, and Sreevalsa made his way to the bathroom only to realize that there was no water in the taps!! We were literally left high and dry. Fortunately, two years of hostel life had given us the skills necessary to face the world in an unbathed, but confident state. Out came the deos and the hair gels and we were ready in record time!

Reception 2

At the reception, we were joined by Suman, another dear friend. Finally, everyone who had committed to come to the wedding, was at the wedding. Receptions, as I knew them, were a purely casual event devoid of all religious practices. But this was different. After the married couple made their way to the stage and the world got a glimpse of Mrs. and Mr. S. Rukmini Kumar for the very first time, three priests climbed up and started invoking various gods and goddesses to bless the couple for a happy married life. Sreevalsa, in addition to being a PhD student at IISc Bangalore, is also well versed in the Vedas and scriptures. He too joined the priests in the chantings and I am sure the gods were put under extra pressure to bless the couple, a sentiment which at that point of time was shared by all present.

Reception 3

We Indians love our food. More so at weddings. So after the new couple had been duly blessed and people started making their way on stage to greet them, we decided to check out the culinary offerings. Much to the dismay of the carnivores among us, it was an all vegetarian fare that day. Rather than accepting defeat and ingesting it, we decided to go out for chicken, at that very instant. None of us were familiar with the local geography, but this was a thought that had not crossed our meat obsessed brains till that point. So we searched high and low for any place serving chicken in the vicinity. Being unable to do so and out of fear of getting lost, we came back to the reception. Resigned to our fate, we went in to the dining section to see that all the food was over and the caterers were packing up! Oh, the horror!! Then, Rukku came to our rescue and we were given some food out of the share they had saved for the family. Thankfully, the caterer had overestimated Rukku’s family’s eating capacities and they had sufficient food left even after four hungry idiots had eaten their fill.

Post reception

After dinner, we sat out in the lawn and started making plans for the following day. Since it was the first time several of us were in Hyderabad, we wanted to see it all. Unfortunately, time was a constraint and so in the end, it was decided to wake up early, go to Golconda fort, go to the hi-tec city, have biryani at Bawarchi’s and in the evening, return to base to pack up and leave. Wonderful plan!

It was past midnight when the reception got over. We proceeded to our room to retire for the night. But we were once again left high and dry, this time, figuratively. Apparently, the room we had been living in belonged to a friend of Rukku’s, who was not informed that we would be returning late at night. He had locked the house and had gone to sleep. So there we were, in an alien city, without a roof on our heads. We called Rukku who tried calling the owner of the house, but that did not work. In the end, he called us to his house saying that something would work out. In all, there were six of us and his house was already filled to capacity with the outstation guests. We were beginning to wonder if any hotels or lodges would be open at 2 in the night when Rukku’s elder sister told us that their neighbours had agreed to take us in. She was as adamant as we were reluctant to disturb a complete stranger in the middle of the night, but it was useless. So we spent Rukku’s wedding night at the house of complete (and might I add, kind) strangers.

The day after

Of course all our plans made the previous day had gone kaput the moment we woke up at 11. After a hurried bath (our first in two days) we assembled at Rukku’s to decide the next course of action. Over a sumptuous breakfast, reformulations were made. Retaining the biryani bit, we decided to let go of all previous destinations. As per the new plan, we would go to Prasad’s, a mall cum multiplex cum entertainment centre on Necklace road and proceed to Bawarchi’s from there. So we finished our breakfasts, booked our return bus tickets. We didn’t know it at the time, but this move would save our asses big time. Anyways, after a rickshaw ride through the city we reached our destination. The first look didn’t really impress me much…so what, a big mall cum multiplex…seen plenty of those in Mumbai. But the best part of this was the 4-D movie that we saw. 20 mins of absolutely thrilling visuals and effects. Trust me, if you ever get a chance to watch a 4-D movie, do not miss it. Anyways, after this, we decided to move towards the one activity I had been waiting for the whole day…lunch. We stepped out of the mall and tried taking a rickshaw to Bawarchi’s. But strangely, all the rickshaw wallahs refused! A little more digging revealed that Mr. K. Chandrashekhar Rao, in his fast unto death for a separate Telangana state had slipped into a serious condition, giving his goons the license to run amok through the city. We were told that Bawarchi’s had become a target of their ire and had shut down. Not the ones to be disappointed, we settled on going to this other place called Paradise. Only problem was that it was in Secunderabad! Suman soon found a rickshaw willing to accommodate the 5 of us (for an extra 10 bucks of course). We drove all along the beautiful Necklace road and as soon as we entered Secunderabad…

Secunderabad

…we were pulled over by traffic cops for overloading the rickshaw. Some deft bargaining by the rickshaw driver ensured that he was let off just 50 bucks lighter, but this meant that we had to pay extra for our ride. Now I don’t know if this is normally the case or because there was tension in the city that day, Paradise was being guarded by an army of bouncers, complete with black t-shirts and all. But I must say, after enduring so much, the reward came in the form of the awsomest , lip smackingest chicken biryani that I have ever tasted. And they were pretty generous with the quantity too…neither of us could finish his share. After this gastronomic gratification, it was time to head back to Rukku’s, say our goodbyes, pick up our luggages and get going. But judging by how the day had panned out so far, would that have been so easy? You bet not.

Rukku’s house is a long way from Secunderabad and the best way to reach it is by bus. But that day, everybody was in a hurry to get home, so all the buses were overloaded. Suman, who has lived in Hyderabad for some time now, found this unbelievable. He then concluded that it was impossible for us to reach Hyderabad in time for our onward travels, if we continued waiting for the bus. His solution (after consultation with a very helpful traffic cop) was to take the local train.

Hyderabad’s local train system is very different from Bombay’s. Strangely, tickets have to be bought from the platform itself. But again, since that was a special day, everyone wanted to get home as quickly as possible and so there was a long queue at the booking counter. Rather than risk missing the train waiting in line, we decided to risk it and travel ticketless. In hindsight though, it would not have made any difference even if we would have stood in line for 20-25 mins to buy our tickets because the train was late…in a major way. Finally when it arrived, it was jam packed. Fortunately being a Bombay boy had trained me well for this part and we were able to get down at our destination, albeit with a little help from a friendly local.

Once we got out of the station, we saw huge lines at ATM’s and petrol pumps. We were now beginning to realize that the situation was indeed serious. But it really hit us when during the rickshaw ride back, the rickshawallah informed us that there would be a Hyderabad bandh starting the next day and would continue indefinitely. At this point, we realized the prudence of having booked our tickets in advance. Anyways, as we neared home, the possibility of being stuck in Hyderabad for the duration of the bandh was looming large in our heads. More so when the rickshaw driver kept updating us with news of sporadic incidences of violence from the city.

It was a bit of a fight finding conveyance to take us to the bus stop, but with a little help from Rukku’s father (Rukku had already left for his in-laws’ place), we managed that. The scene at the bus stop was more peaceful than we imagined and as we had time to kill, had a few sweets and picked up a few savouries that would last us through the 12 hours that it would take us to reach Bombay. The bus arrived, we found nice seats for ourselves (one of the advantages of being early birds), and we sat down recollecting a most remarkable day in our lives.

But it’s not over yet…

We were supposed to reach Mumbai by 9-10 the next morning. However, it was the day when the Pune city marathon was being organized. So all the major roads were closed to traffic and we waited for an hour and half before getting the go ahead. The fun simply refused to die down.

The end

All said and done, I have realized this...some journeys you plan, and some you don’t. It’s the unplanned ones that give you so much joy...and memories :)