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."
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
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 thesefuckers 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.
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
This got me thinking about the veracity of this entire episode. Were these
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 TOI3. 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.
Monday, June 14, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
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 :)
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 :)
Sunday, May 23, 2010
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.
"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.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
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 :)
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 :)
Saturday, January 23, 2010
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 :)
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 :)
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