Of Gult Marriages and their elements....

Indians and especially South Indians are preys to lots of social gatherings. Come August and September and everyone who is deemed to be “settled” decides to get married. While we are mercilessly dragged from marriage to the other, our parents explain the painfully long relationship of our family with the “marriage party”. The venue is generally located in a place which is not even found on Google Maps and in a place which we don’t even consider a part of the city. Marriage gift is usually cash as bouquets are considered to be costly for something that lasts only for one day. After stopping bang at the entrance of the venue, everyone takes their own sweet time to get out of the car (after giving explicit instructions to the driver to have a hearty dinner) with other vehicles forming a long queue behind for the same reason. A lady who might have been an air hostess previously, greets you with a smile (Fake. Even you know it) and offers roses (and only roses at every wedding) to the guests. While a VIP wedding might even have door frames and metal detectors and Airport level security in place, you might get a wild card entry depending on your “face value”.

Inside is a huge commotion and sometimes it might even look like a stampede if the bride’s father thinks he’s fine with a smaller venue. A sea of starched-golden border zari sarees greet you with the additional glitter of 916 KDM gold ornaments shining away mightily in the heavy luminous lighting. While people chatter away incessantly below, those who for some reason realise the reason why they are at that particular place are seen standing in a serpentine queue to greet and bless the married/to-be-married couple. While parents pull us from one corner of the hall to the other showing us off to different people whom we have never seen or never heard of or probably would never meet again, the roller coaster ride begins. The ladies talk of how small we were when they last saw us and their very knowledgeable husbands start by asking us our names and end by giving us unrequited career advice with their kids occasionally smiling and looking as lost as you are. These discussions range from which IIT coaching centre is the best or why Infosys is not performing well now or even whether Rahul Gandhi will be the PM candidate for 2014 Elections.

After sometime you get to the dias to greet the couple along with your parents. While some quick introductions are given and you congratulate them both, it’s time for the awkward camera pose. As you turn towards the photographers, you are blinded by an array of lights focussing on you. While an assistant on stage positions the males on the groom’s side and the females on the bride’s side and tries to accommodate as many people as possible, everyone starts to click at once. In the end you either make it to the printed album or you stay in the “My Marriage Fotos” folder depending on your proximity to the family, your importance to them and their budget.

As people are judging the arrangements or deciding whether the bride or the bridegroom is the luckier one or even discussing what the bride “offered” the bridegroom for the marriage; the heart leaps towards food even though we are totally aware of what’s on the platter. The food section is a curious mix of cuisines with no logical reasoning. It usually starts with some chaat along with salads and some Chinese starters, moves to rotis and curries (paneer is quintessential) and then for some funny arrangement of Biryani and Noodles and then some plain rice with the usually bhendi and aloo curries while sambar, rasam and curd look at you. The dessert section has vanilla ice cream with either carrot halwa, double ka meetha, gulab jamoon or kurbaani ka meetha as an add on. In the end there is package of sweet pan, a cherry and a tooth pick in a zip lock cover.

After people fell they’ve had enough, they proceed to leave. At the exit is one family member from the bride’s side and one from the groom’s side deciding who should get what as return gifts to take home. The size of the package is decided the photography way; proximity, importance and budget. Everything complete, they roll out the same way they’ve entered.

The way back home is an analysis of the marriage, the people and the experience. While plans are made to attend the next wedding, we usually ask one question that’s been haunting us for the past few hours:

“So did we go on behalf of the bride or the groom?”

The Girl With The Rose

This story had begun thirteen months ago in Florida library.

Daniel finally laid his hands on ‘Gone With The Wind’, the novel which was in great demand and has been evading him ever since it caught the eye of public. As he opened the book he found dried rose petals, preserved carefully in the folds of the book, with initials ‘SM’ written in silver. The book couldn’t keep him engaged as something was disturbing him. Time and again he kept turning back the pages to look at the rose petals and the beautiful calligraphy on them. He felt an urge to meet the person and return the carefully preserved petals. The handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and an insightful mind. On the opening page of the book he found the name of its previous owner.

Miss Sarah Maynell.

With some effort he located her address from the library registers and then wrote a letter to her, introducing himself and explaining the reason why he was writing to her. “Isn’t the reason too frivolous?” he asked himself. But then, he thought there was no harm in trying.

Soon the World War broke out and Daniel had to join the services. For one year and a month they continued knowing each other through letters. Sarah continued to be his pen friend and a major support thorough out his stint at war front.

One day he requested her to send her photograph to which she rejected. Daniel was dejected and at the same time afraid that he might lose her as a friend as he thought he crossed the line. To his relief in her next letter she told him that she’d meet him directly in person as soon as he was back from the war.

When the day finally came for him to return from war, they scheduled their first meeting at Grand Central Station.

“You’ll recognize me by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel”, she wrote.

Grand Central Station was filled to the brim with families, friends and well wishers of the soldiers returning home. There was a lot of hoopla and people were brimming with excitement. The station was colourful and soulful, making the home coming for the soldiers very grand.

In the train, the boys bid adieu to each other, saying a silent prayer for the ones who’ve sacrificed for the country and thanking God for having kept them alive. They promised to stay in touch even after returning home.

The train pulled into the station and swarmed the already crowded station. Daniel stood up from the bench, straightened his army uniform and studied the crowd looking for the girl, whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't- the girl with a rose.

He then saw a young woman walking towards him. She was long and slim. Her blonde hair fell back in curls from her delicate ears, and had shiny blue eyes which perfectly complimented her pink cheeks. In her pale green suit she was like spring time come alive. Daniel walked towards her entirely oblivious of the fact that she was not wearing a rose. As he crossed her path a smile appeared on her lips and she murmured 'Excuse me’?

He took one step closer to her and then he saw Sarah Maynell, standing directly behind the young woman, well past her forties with greying hair tucked under a hat, pale and gentle looking with weary grey eyes and with a warm and kind smile.

The lady in green suit was walking away quickly. Daniel felt as though he split into two; so keen was his desire to follow her and yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly enchanted him.

He didn’t hesitate as he walked towards the old woman with his fingers gripping that small worn blue book that was to identify him to her. He knew that this wouldn’t be love, but something more precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship which he must be and is very grateful.

He squared his shoulders, saluted her and held out the book to her and said “Hey, I'm Lieutenant Daniel, and you must be Miss Maynell. I’m so glad that you could meet me. May I take you out for dinner?”

He then closed his eyes for a flash of second bearing the truth that he missed the girl in green suit forever.

The women's face broadened into a tolerant smile as she said, “'I don’t know what this is  about. The young lady in the green suit who just went by asked me to wear this rose on my coat and said that if you were to ask me out for dinner, I should tell you that she is waiting for you in the restaurant across the street.”

He gently smiled and that was the beginning of not just a love story but a saga…..

--->KN

Original story by Purnima Gayathri

Clean Shave

Trolls say “A call from an unknown number is always exciting and shouldn’t be missed”.

Just when I was about to drop my phone into the deep tunnels of my kurta, it started vibrating. A call from a known number would have gone unanswered as I was in hurry, but the fact that it was a call from an unknown number set the decision making lobe of my brain into action. It had a strategic decision to make between racing against time and the excitement of answering a call from an unknown number. A series of situations were explored in the head in those few seconds as the thumb was oscillating between the red and the green buttons.

“What if it is an issue of national importance?”

“Did I suddenly become famous on twitter?”

“What if……………..”

Before my RAM batch processed the questions, fate took over as it was in a hurry to screw many other lives.

“Hello”, I paused.

“Rey Mama. Where are you?” said a familiar voice.

“Who’s this?” I asked, realizing that the call is of no use and I’m no hero.

“It’s me man. Listen, I need Rs.15,000 urgently. Can you arrange for it?”

Usually people would care to exchange some pleasantries if they were calling a person after a gap of 6 years. But this guy didn't.

“Dude, you are calling the wrong person. Don’t you know that I’m unemployed?”

“It’s urgent man. Dad’s on a ventilator and it is a critical situation. I could only think of you to call. Please do something”, he said in desperation.

That was a situation from which you wouldn’t know how to escape. And being the nice guy that I was, I didn't even think of an escape.

“I’ll have to think man. 15,000 is way out of my league. Also I’m out of town. Give me some time and I will get back to you."

Usually I would have got on with my joblessness by completely forgetting the call. But the fact that  someone’s father was in such a tender situation and that I could arrange for some help kept buzzing in my head. After some quick thinking I called up another friend and asked him to advance Rs.5,000 on my behalf as that was all I could afford from my savings.

Satisfied with my help; I patted myself and got busy. Just after three-quarters of an hour I got bombarded with series of messages and calls from the guy, who apparently couldn't derive help from other corners.

I was unable to convince him that there was nothing I could do to arrange the remaining amount. Just when I was about to give up, I called up another friend and explained the whole scenario to him, expecting him to either pitch in some money or arrange for some help. He remained silent after listening to everything I said.

“So what do you think you can do?” I asked him, with a sense of victory which a sales guy has after selling the Dictionary.

“Can I have his number first? Looks like I have his old contact number”

“Sure. And how are you going to arrange the money? Mind you, there is no compulsion. Just do what you can”.

“Well, I’m not giving him anything. I have to demand my money from him. He’s been evading me for a while”

“You want to ask him now?”

“Even you wouldn’t mind if you knew what happened”

“Please surprise me”

“Well, I gave him money after he told me that his father died.”

I stood frozen as his words pierced my head. It was my official entry into the cruel and unethical world with a slap across my face by reality.

After hanging up and realizing that my savings account was back to its original tally, I got a SMS from another friend to whom I have earlier passed on the message. It read:

He contacted you for money? Tread carefully man. Few weeks back when I wasn't home, he came and told my mum that he hurt his kidney in an accident. I only hope that this one is genuine.

When Nature Beckoned

It looked somewhat familiar, the huge white building which could easily pass off as a very well preserved palace if not for the board in front of it which read ‘Director General of Police, Chennai, Beach Road’. The road on which the Chennai Thambi was driving looked unusually wide and clean. The footpaths were wide and you could see calm people strolling up and down; some trying to lose weight, some dragging their crying kids along and some trying to pep up some romance by holding their hands.  The air smelled of salinity and the even the hordes of vehicles travelling up and down the road at that time didn't seem to matter much.

I was at a beach. Rather, The Marina Beach.

It was a visit to the sea shore after what seemed to be ages. This was a place, which never seemed to ‘modernise’, which in a way, was good. The guy with a small oil lamp, selling peanuts for a fortune was still in the dark corner so that his customers could not see the quantity he was selling them; the lady with her son selling the sugar cane extract was still moving the toothed wheel with her hand and spuriously telling her customers that the ice was clean; the guy selling the balloons was right in the middle of the human ocean selling his wares, encouraging the unlucky one’s to cry; the couple in the beach were tactically pushing people to shoot more balloons with the air rifle with the husband loading the pellets and the wife replacing the ‘fallen targets’; the chat vendor with the halogen lamp on his cart played the chef preparing the orders while his assistant kept running helter-skelter serving; families fulfilling their weekend promises; and the many couples finding solace in the clam and dark corners of the beach.

Perfect.

I started walking towards the sea. I removed my shoes as I stepped into the sand, to feel the warm and sinking sensation of the granules on my feet which were losing their heat to the pleasant evening climate. The air smelled of the marine life, the noise of the human activity really didn’t seem to bother. There was that sound from a distance which was always inviting, a roar of unlimited energy; the un-rhythmic but equally pleasing expanse of water.

As I inched closer to the shore, memories kept flooding me. Particularly the ‘We’ll go home once the waves stop!’ dialogue of my sister the first time we took her to beach. I paced, as it was my time to treat my senses to a long pending indulgence.

Run Boy Run.

And there it was! Camouflaged in the darkness of the night, sparkling under the heavenly light, it was monstrous in its might, sinister in its looks and welcoming in its beauty. The waves produced the music which no technology could equate and no Bach could equal. The sound of triumph, the heavy bass from the invisible woofers, the famous song from the ocean which is always played worldwide, and the sway of populace to the nature; well, I was indeed attending a live music concert from the front row.

The waves from distance looked like they were charging, like a cheetah which starts running upon spotting its prey, leaping into the air in between its alternative thrusts on the ground, before finally pouncing upon its victim. The first touch of the waves was pleasant, with the water being warm and the reminder of small wounds on the feet burning due to the salinity in the water. The sand right beneath the feet was swept away, making me dig my toes deeper into the soggy sand.

The waves pounced upon one another, some checking the progress of the advancing waves and some adding to the flow. The beach sand by then was sticking to my legs, something that would make us unpleasant guests. People around played, screamed, got wet, clicked, pulled and some walked along the coast. The heterogeneous moods tuned well to the homogenous atmosphere.

Ah! Bliss.

There was a moment when I closed my eyes, submitting myself to the nature and my flow of thoughts and listening to the continuous rhythm, when the sound seemed to pause, as if God had listened to someone like my kid sister on the beach so that she could go home. That moment there was a small panic, as if I had been experiencing a beautiful dream and a fear that it might turn out to be false.

Time passed quickly. I gathered up myself to walk back into realty and the cruel world where man, since he started taming the wild animal, took up his next target to tame the nature; exploiting everything from the life inside the ocean, the salt in the water, the oxygen in the atmosphere to the sand on the beach, unknowingly destroying himself in his foolishness to quest to claim supremacy.

There are miles and miles to go before I sleep………in peace.

Silence Please

The Clean Up Act

The Ever Blue Rama

Rama and Lakshmana came back panting. The moment Rama reached his home in the forest; he knew that something was wrong. Sita was missing.

The gate was badly broken. He walked in stepping on the plank which read ‘This home is mortgaged to ICIC Bank. No Parking in front of the gate’. Time to cut some wood again, thought Lakshmana. Walking inside, he saw that his new Samsung 32’’ LED TV was broken and the Bose speaker had its subwoofer hanging out. The sofa coir was sprung and his rocking chair was no more rocking. His IKEA bookshelf was in heaps as if it was in its pre-assembled form. Bah! he thought,looking at his copy of The Da Vinci Code. I think I lost my Flipkart Reason To Use The Bookmark #43-When you’re out hunting for a Golden Deer. The only bright thing in his home at that point was his Godrej Almirah. Worth the bucks! good that I turned down the local made he said to himself. Looking around he found that their iPhone chargers were in place. There was one more thing missing. Sita’s iPhone.

‘Bro!’ shouted Lakshmana from outside. As Rama ran out, towards the Eastern side of his house, he saw Lakshmana staring at a huge hole in the ground.

‘Looks like a nuclear attack Bro!’ he said. Rama climbed down the steps of his house, went towards the crater and leaned down in front of it to study closely.

‘This is something even an Ayyan Tapakai’s Hydrogen bomb can form, forget nuclear. This is a result of some heavy headed human being using his spiritual powers and extracting some heavy mass by Earth by dominating the gravitational and magnetic forces of nature, and in the process further manipulating it to make it air borne and directing it according to his convenience. Such an unusual action which is against the natural laws caused a repealing effect, there by forming forces which destroyed our house which is in the near vicinity.’

That fine moment his Father Dasaratha in heaven cried and Lakshmana swelled with pride. The Gods sent a shower of flowers (with Lord Indra adding lightning for extra effect) and the Sun God rode his horses faster while the Sea God stopped his waves for a moment. Guru Vasistha would have hugged Lord Rama if he would have been there at that moment. After all, Lord Rama’s IIT Coaching paid off well, though he was not keen on getting into it.

He continued ‘We haven’t messed with anyone back home or even after coming to the forest, unless you…….’ he turned looking towards Lakshmana.

‘Brother! My sole purpose of accompanying you to the forest is to protect you and my holy sister-in-law from evil forces of nature and from unnecessary enemies! I haven’t slept for years together and have been on constant watch out even when my iTouch ran out of charge and the FM was playing ‘Kolaveri Di’ continuously for days together! I have learned to keep my anger under control and I didn’t hurt even an ant forget a...’ he stopped abruptly.

‘What?’ said Rama.

‘Soorpanaka’ said Lakshmana.

‘Super’ said Rama sounding dejected.

‘The only thing which can give us a lead is Sita’s iPhone. She obviously can’t talk to us now. Let me try Google Friend connect and track her location’ said Rama, walking back into his house and waking up his Mac from sleep. Praise the WiFi he said to himself as he logged into his Google Account.

Used ID:rama.ayodhya

Password:ramasitalakshmana14

In the mean while, Lakshmana opened his Facebook Account. He had one notification. His wife poked him.

He searched for Soorpanaka/Surpanaka/Sur Panaka/Soor Panaka/Panaka S valiantly. He kept opening all the possible profiles in different tabs when he finally hit upon a profile with a picture which looked badly photoshopped- as if the nose and ears were attached.

He looked at her Info:

About: I am a cruel and sweet lady.

Location: Lanka

Interested In: Married Men

Relationship Status: Single

Gender: Female

Music: Death Metal

Movies: Resident Evil, Species, Predators.

Television: Dexter

Activities: Singing, Travelling, Dancing, Hurting others.

Her Wall read:

Sita finally abducted. Now in Ashok Vatika. 5 minutes ago

To the left of the screen he saw the list of her Relatives.

King Raavan (Brother)

Kubera (Brother)

Vibhishana (Brother)

Ahiravana (Brother)

He got a lead.

‘Brother! I got her location!’ he shouted.

‘Yeah.Lanka.Thank God! she installed Four Square. She knew I’d be looking.’ said Rama.

‘Look at this man bro! Ten heads! Imagine the time he needs to comb his hair!’

‘Hmmm yeah.. But first we need to get to Lanka. That’s our priority. And we need an army too’ said Rama.

‘Don’t worry. We’ll figure that out. Let’s start our journey in the port direction. We’ll get some help soon’ said the assuring Lakshmana.

Before logging out, he got a friend request. It was from Vibheeshana. He ignored it.He poked his wife back and closed it down.

Rama was at the door waiting for Lakshmana to come. He was ready with all his trekking gear and his carbon-fibre, diamond polished, GPS enabled bow and arrow.

‘Where are my shoes?’ he inquired looking around the place.

‘Don’t you remember? Bharata took them away to keep them until you go home.’

‘Ah! I totally forgot. I have to mail him. It’s been a while’ said Rama.

And hence the duo set off into the woods, creating an epic in the process for the generations of Kaliyuga human beings to read, cherish and learn.


--->KN

An Open Letter to KCR

Dear KCR,

I write this letter knowing fully that it won’t reach you and even if it does, you’d need a person to
explain what’s written in this. And even if you manage to understand, there wouldn’t be any change
in the un-ethical ways in which you are planning to sabotage the daily life of the normal citizens.

I belong to the ‘immigrant’ category of persons as per your seditious nomenclature. I was born and
brought up in this very city of Hyderabad, though my roots go back to the picturesque Godavari
district. All through the 21 years of my life in this city, never did I think that the harmony and life in
this city would be disturbed by a thin man, wearing baby pink around his neck, having two douche
bags below his eyes and whose nose holds all the muscle in his body. Being flanked by a bunch
of equally jobless supporters (one who is a professor of a university and doesn’t care about the
education system), you have managed to create quiet a rift among the people of this state who have
long forgotten that the state of Andhra Pradesh actually has three regions.

It was a very tactical move that you first targeted the students in the University. Being the hot
blooded ones, they totally forgot the reasons for which they exist and started the destruction. While
they were on a rampage, you were probably enjoying the mass destruction on the TV. You managed
to create the divide among the Government officers compelling them to lose
salaries while you were busy planning your next move. Now, you sabotage the transport system,
bring the real estate down, eat the morsel of the daily wage labourer, threaten the academic year
of the students, cause loss to the ex-chequer , create power crisis -all this in the name of ‘a better
state’ and people blindly follow you not knowing where the better state even lies. While there
will be no new investment coming into the state, the existing business houses are for sure looking
elsewhere for expansions. Such is the glorious future which lies ahead.

Who can forget those wonderful statements you made? I remember you saying that the biryani
made by the Non-T people tastes like cow dung. While people around
you were beaming with joy and clapping mindlessly, I could only think of the abysmal lows you could
stoop in your comparisons. Not to forget scores of other statements in which you said that you
would drive away the Non-T people from this region.

Let me ask you something. Who the heck are you to do that? In case you forgot, let me remind
you that this is not a god damn state built on your fore fathers property for you to keep people of
your choice and drive away the rest. As the citizens of this country we have the every right to settle
where ever we want to. And don’t forget that ‘we’ people are also the major driving forces behind
the administration and economic growth of this state and also the city of Hyderabad, without which
your state of T would be nothing.

And you have the audacity to go and hit the officers? God! This shows how uncouth and ill behaved
you are! And you think that they can’t hit back? Remember what happened last year when you tried
to introduce your T-Bill in the assembly?

Though I am opposed to formation of a separate state, I’d like to keep my reservations for myself.
You might be proud that you have managed to cook up some revolution, but let me tell you that the
future generations will remember you for your nose and your ability to pelt stones at anything that
is glass. An agitation in a sensible manner would be welcomed but for what you are doing, I’d call
you the Bal Thackerey of Andhra Pradesh. Jai Hind!!!


Yours
First Indian and then Andhraid
(And you cannot call me by any other name.)

The Dying Love

"With the last penny begged he entered the cemetery, wobbling, where his dead wife lay, waiting to be buried. He watched as the coffin was lowered into the grave and the cross was placed over it. Sitting down he heard her voice talk to him. The next moment he was dead, over her grave."

The above short story falls under the category of 55 Fiction.

The half eaten Apple that never rots

All that I can dedicate to this man is this article.

Dear Steve Jobs,

I guess that by now you must be sitting comfortably on one of the clouds allocated to you in heaven, staring at the harp and looking at ways of improvising it while the iPad on your side is buzzing with condolences, obituaries and messages of grief from across the globe.

To be true I never knew your name until the late 2005s.It was that time when the IT guys frequenting the West bought an iPod on their way back so that it would be useful for them in their morning jogs (which happened once in a fortnight).I found wheel in the center very fascinating and the small screen captivating. It was the first time I heard then name of ‘Steve Jobs’ though I just knew Apple as a company and Macintosh as a computer from the boring lessons of ‘History of Computers’ from school. Later it was the iPod shuffle I managed to buy, which became my first and the only Apple product that I own, and use to date.

I totally grew up on MS and I had the ‘teenager’s opinion’ that nothing could beat it. The ‘Apple-to-me-means-iPod’ gradually grew to ‘Steve-Jobs-is-God’. My plans of saving up to buy the next Apple product always remained in cold storage as you kept rolling out revolutionary products, one after the other in your trademark turtle neck tee and blue jeans.

It wasn’t a long time before that I went a spree, watching all the Apple event videos that YouTube had for the nth time. The untiring legs on stage, the commanding voice, and the levels of curiosity which you maintained and the simplicity and the ease with which you could convince anyone why your product is the best made me watch those videos over and over again. And how can I forget the best of the lot? The 1984 launch of the Macintosh! I swear that I would have fainted that day only if were in that crowd which went hysterical. That one alone is enough to tell everyone why you are considered a visionary.

Thank You Steve Jobs for showing us what it means to go around with a revolutionary product in our pockets, Thank You for proving that the dots always get connected, Thank You for making us proud to be born in a generation influenced by your products and finally a Thank You for showing the world what it means to bounce back stronger.

You showed us all what it means to eat only a part of the Apple and investing the rest in your dreams.

--->KN

I write this as Steve Jobs is making it for the 9th time onto the cover page of the TIME magazine.

Deception

NOTE:This is NOT a work of Fiction 

It was like any other day of my life, as I got down to doing what I'm best at - sitting with books and staring at the wall. I thought I needed a change of place, probably because there was nothing left in the wall to stare. So, I gathered my stuff and went to the nearest medical shop to study as the person there was very hospitable and always had a room for me to spare.

I walked in, dumped all my stuff on the bed and started reading that day’s New York Times, which was filled with articles congratulating Rahul Gandhi on becoming the CM of West Bengal and Sania Mirza on winning the F1 Grand Prix. I thought that would pep up my mood to prepare for my exams which were a light year away, but, sadly enough that just made my mind crave for more relaxation.

I checked my pockets to see if I was carrying my iPad but to my dismay I wasn’t. I only had my smart phone in my wallet. I snapped it out, and went through my contacts and finally zeroed on calling Michael Obama just to check on how he was doing at his summer house in Somalia after his successful third term as the President of USA. The call wasn't put through and my phone displayed an error message saying 'Out of panels'. It was then I realized that the Airtel International Space Station hadn't still replaced the solar panels on my individual satellite which handled my communications. I wasn't in the mood to configure my phone on my mother’s satellite, so I thought I'd take a stroll on the Hyderabad Marine Drive.

As I stepped out, it started snowing heavily but I continued to walk. The heaters along the path were melting all snow and absorbing it, keeping the path clearer. There wasn't much road/air traffic as it was a weekend and a political party called for a Telangana bandh.

After walking for a while I decided to have a quick bite and walked into new Floating Pizza Hut which was built on the purified Tank Bund which would float along with the Buddha statue on the lake. At the entrance I was greeted by a tall blue creature, scantly clothed and as I walked in, I was wondering 'Where the hell on the planet are they from'. And to my surprise there were more such people inside, going around with trays. A banner at the entrance read 

'Weekend special! Get ready to be served by the Na'vi from Pandora! Also enjoy our forest special theme with live forest sounds in the background! Coming up next weekend: Mars special with Aliens'

I was lead to a single table in the heterosexual section which was along a window looking over the lake. The background had the rusting sound of the leaves, chirping birds and an occasional roar of a Lion. Looking down, I could see a Shark in the lake gliding along idly and two dolphins jumping around at a distance. I ordered for my food and was waiting for it to be served, when I spotted Rahul Mahajan and Rakhi Sawanth sitting across my table, sorting the cocaine into lines and taking turns in snorting them.

My food arrived after few minutes and I ate it in silence enjoying everything (except the drug people around me). I swiped my Aadhar Card for my bill, left a tip of £1 for the Na'vi and left the place.

I walked back to the medical shop and as I entered the room, the guy at the counter said 'Your father came searching for you. He asked you to come home as early as possible.'

I walked back to my house. I took the elevator to '-3rd floor' and as I opened the door of my house, I found my Dad sitting on the water couch, watching TV. He asked me where I was and as I was talking to him, I could hear my phone ringing. For a moment I thought that it was a test call from the AISS but then I realized that it was the tone set for my Dads call. Confused, I looked at him and found him staring at me without anything in his hand and his phone floating in the magnetic field next to him. Bewildered and still confused I answered the call….

'He-He-Hello'

'Hello! What took you so long to answer the phone!?'

'I-You-Were Talking......'

'Were you sleeping?'

'Sleeping? (Shit)I think I was'

'Why now? Anyway, don't forget to get my medicines today'

'Aa? OK OK.'

'And get up and wash your face. You are left with only a month for your exams'

'Light year......'

'What?'

'I mean, one month.30 days. No, 31 days.'

'Looks like you have slept a lot. You're totally out of your mind. Go have some coffee'

'I just had Pizza I guess....'

'No you didn't. You were probably dreaming.'

With that kick, I snapped back to reality.

--->KN

Studying means you'll keep asking?

OK Boss. Agreed. You are all settled in your life and you’re earning money. That means you’ll always ask me about my exams aa? Arey! In house only I’m trying hard to avoid this means, you’re another person aa? You didn't feel bad when people asked you the same question when you were studying? Revenge on next generation kya?

I know ki there is a lot of portion and also no time! We are breaking our heads and still not able to study. So many distractions we have! You don’t no? In your time you didn’t know meaning of entertainment only. Do you know what Internet means? Maximum you had dial up connection. To open email only it would take ages and ages. You would open it to check if your uncle from US mailed you because you told him to get Snickers and Wrigley’s while coming.  Also no Facebook or Twitter, or mobile. And if you spoke to girls,it was bad. People would think there was something something between you both and do 'flames'. Also your Mummy and Daddy used to make their eyes big if you spoke about them in your house. I know.

Now it's all different! We have broadband internet and so much to do! We have Facebook and Twitter accounts, blogs, mobile phones (Not one. Two !) and all such things to keep ourselves busy. If you don't use them boletho people will think you are dead or probably extinct. Or even mental.

One more thing is there. We have girl friends. If you are single means people will think that there is some defect in you. And ayyo, these girls no! So tough with them! They say that we have to meet regularly and all. We have to be 'careful' and 'presentable' with a 'good dressing sense' else she will disown you and all money you spent on her will be waste. Also so many obligations like saying ‘I Love you’, ’I Miss you’ are there. We have to make recharges for them to talk to us, give gifts, surprise them and all! You have to be all smiling smiling every time, crack jokes and make her laugh. You know how hard it's to be innovative and unique everytime? So tough and time consuming you know!

Then there are fights, baby crying, patch up works, soothing and all. If she gets bored of us boletho break ups and then more of crying and drinking for days together. Sometimes we have to go and give company to our friends who’ve broken up no! After all we are their friends!

In the middle,relatives come visiting means gone case only. Full shopping, touring, visiting other people and all. In addition to all this we have friends’ brothers’ marriages, friends’ sisters’ sons’ cradle ceremonies, aunties’ parents’ 60^th birthdays and all.

And I needn’t mention movies and cricket matches. People don’t stop making them and we don’t stop watching them. And our BCCI never lets our players rest.

So many things to do and so less time. And you ask me in the function how my preparation is going on and give me tips and free advice. Talk to me next time about this only if you can get me the question papers.

If this repeats again no, I'll tell your wife how you tried shamelessly for your Preeti aunties daughter and your son about your playboy and hustler magazines.

Yours truly

As discussed in the Localteaparties style!

A tale of two Lizards

'Eeks!Balli!!!!!',screamed the sister just before stepping into the washroom.
'Don't make such a big deal out of such small things.Stomp your foot hard and it will make way for you' screamed back Mommy from the kitchen.

'I think it's dead!I can't see it's eyes open!' she shouted back.

'May be it's sleeping.Let it be' said Bhali, her brother, whose name meant strong guy. 

'Enough enough' said mommy as she walked to the spot to have a look.'Call Chandramma and ask her to clear it up' she said not wanting to waste any more time lest the curry gets overcooked.The maid walked in with a chata and a broomstick.Looking at the dead creature,she said,'Looks like it's not a normal lizard but a poisonous one.It has green spots over the exposed part of its body which stores poison',using all her knowledge from extensively watching the long running saas bahu serials.After finishing preliminary examination she tried sweeping away the dead body with the broom stick;but it wouldn't move.She tried again and again but it didn't budge.'Amma!Looks like it's stuck!' she said,her voice trailing off.She paused for a moment,had a eureka moment and shouted 'It has been killed!Someone stepped on it!'

That moment everything transformed.The lizard became a victim of violence and it's species sounded endangered and it's reptile rights violated.The spot became a crime scene and the maid spoke as
though an autopsy had to be conducted to know the exact cause of death.Looking at the heightened excitement in Operation Clearing Dead Lizard,Bhali went to find out what really was happening.He was told about the horrendous incident,with the maid adding how sinful it is to kill a lizard. After listening to everything Bhali said 'Oh!So this was the one.Yesterday night I felt that I stepped on something really soft and rough and I had a feeling that it wriggled.Didn't think it was a lizard.'

The mommy gasped and the sister stood in awe.The maid already started pulling his legs to see if there were any poisonous bites on his soles.'You killed a lizard!You stepped on it' were mommys first words after recovery.'Let me call your grandmother and find out what the upayam(solution) is!Don't step out of the house till I tell you to!Shani is right behind your back!' In the meantime, the sister was updating her status for her telugu friends '@Bhali balied a balli with his balam'(which roughly translates to "A lizard sacrificed it's life under the heavy weight of Bhali." And balied is Telgish,the past -ed version of bali-ing)

While mommy was over the phone and sister was busy facebooking,the maid was busy updating another maid right across the flat with such a tone that the whole apartments could hear her.'Which foot did you stamp it with!There are different remedies for both the foots!' said mommy,invoking a very interesting question.Bhali though for a moment,looked under his feet and said,'I guess it's the right!Can we drop the matter here!?' Mommy didn't listed to him and continued her quest for a solution over the phone.'May be he should go to Kanchi and touch the golden lizard for pariharam' said the driver who walked in to collect the keys and who by now knew everything thanks to the reach of the news in the apartment.'May be he should perform abhishekam to Subramanya Swami and seek for mercy' shouted the pan-eating maid from the other apartment.By the time other solutions like 108 pradakshanas and head tonsuring in the temple were offered,mommy was done with the call and she said 'Have head bath and offer Salt to God as an offering.In the meantime, I'll call our family astrologer and find out if we have to perform any graha shanti.' Bhali was totally ridiculed by this idea but was thankful that it was a simple solution.He thought;after all, even God needs salt for flavoring his food after all!

After an hour of prayers and God pleasing, and after mom was completely satisfied that the shani was off his back and the dosham(bad luck) stopped dancing on his head,he was let out with a promise to visit the temple before going anywhere.He took the stairs and was going down when he heard his maid talking to her colleague 'I think they should amputate his right foot before the dosham spreads to the rest of his body.If they don't do it now,they might repent later in life.'Just as she finished her unsolicited suggestion, Bhali felt something squishy under his foot.This time, he was going to walk off quitely."

--->KN

Bah Bah Ramdev!

Dear Baba Ramdev


Your attempt to bend the country like your body has backfired and we now find your limbs tangled and your close aide Balakrishna trying to help you out of them(his condition being worse).The on-stage antics you displayed on the night you were evacuated evoked ripples of laughter all around but not much of sympathy.That episode only proved that the Indian police are pros in dispersing scores of people with the traditional canes and a few shells of tear gas.The extent to which they went by dismantling the marquee,rolling the carpets and dropping you away at your place made me feel really proud of them.You being air lifted and dropped by the police,with a condition(read warning) not to enter Delhi in the days to come made it even worse.

Now, what made you think that you were clean and safe in spite of having your foot print in over 300 companies?The ED came knocking and asked you to puke it out,and you did only half your job!(and gargled the rest?)Now I think that the IT department will be making the next move.

And then you did what?The usual fasting,which has lost it's sheen and historical importance as any frivolous campaign by minnows is kick-started with.You took your own sweet time of nine days,sleeping in a glare of media lights and the coolness of the air-conditioners until the fast broke you!(Now you understand the importance of lemonade!)

Dude,entry into national politics is not any tad easy job like beaming live everyday on a national channel.Why would people even take you seriously when you are demanding the return of 'Swiss Black money' when you alone run a realm which runs into a few thousands of crores.Your gambit should have been the polls.Seriously.

I supported the campaign by Anna Hazare but I vehemently despise the same by you.Do you remember that you goofed it up during his campaign too?People fighting seriously for more important causes are being over looked because people like you are hogging the lime light with your antics.Who even noticed Swami Nagamanada till he was dead after 70 odd days of fasting for a Government initiative to clean up Ganga?

Before I sign off let me tell you that not many consider that night as a 'fateful' and 'dark night'.I only suggest that you get back to your daily routine of yoga and ayurveda and let people forget you for a while.May be later you can start afresh,this time with a much better strategy and a much deserved cause!Also remember that giving an ultimatum to the Government will have it's side-effects.

You have woken me up from my slumber and at a time when I thought I'd write nothing in the months to come and also after having decided that I'd not touch upon National politics/political fiasco's for a while.

And yes!You do get your share of credit if the black money does really kiss our shores someday.But that might be the day when we shall be smiling from digital portraits(like those from Harry Potter) put up by our off-springs!


Try not to dig further.We still respect you for your yoga.



--->KN

Of guilt and regret.........

Somewhere this has to stop.

I toss and turn in my bed, at the dead of the night, at a time when more than half the world at my end is fast asleep, at a time when someone somewhere is burning the midnight oil while many a counterpart are having fun getting drunk, going wild, partying or are hooked on to the internet, at a time when a petty thief is trying to break into some house somewhere, while the Indian cop is on the roads with the breath analyzer in hand and pockets with bills and at a time when a homeless man finds a spot somewhere on the roads of the city to lay down and be greeted by the summer heat escaping from the ground below him.

The provocative question of 'life ahead' comes drilling into my head and I change my position on the bed, tossing and turning; lazy to sit upright but a position comfortable enough to think with my fingers.

On the wall adjoining my bed,in the glow of my mobile screen, I can see what lies ahead of me, playing like an Eastman color movie on a white cloth, clear but a bit distorted from excessive usage of the reel. A movie which has been played umpteen times and every time, some serious thinking gets into the head, the effect intensifying everytime it's played.

I write lines and I delete them,trying to make a confession, but unable to proceed further; guilt prevailing. Guilt which makes you weak in your legs, guilt which mentally transcends you to another state even when the world around you is literally falling apart and is gone by the snap of your fingers, guilt which doesn't give you enough courage to confess and confide and guilt which beats the hell out of you over and over again.

But this can't go on.

This has to stop.

For now.Forever.

I need my peace of mind and my courage to work.

What is lost is lost.No regrets.

What lays ahead matters.Grab it.

Master the mind.It's a complete freak.

Start living the moment from now itself.

Well.I lay plonk on my bed to sleep for now, only with some confidence that I can keep the lid tight on my head till the time the morning rays pierce my retina, hit the grey matter and start 'just another day' in my life. Now with a difference.

New beginning,a fierce battle. I have fought many in the past and this just got bigger. No regrets.

--->KN

Ten point something.

Ten points to keep in mind to be a typical Indian 'young' and ‘famous’ novel writer.

1. Disown the story

Start by saying that your piece of work is not a real life incident or a work of fiction. Tell them that it was either told to you by an auto-walah or a bus-conductor to pass time during the hectic traffic hours or that you found a personal diary blocking the flush in your bathroom.

2. Your hero is employed. Preferably in a BPO.

The protagonist of your story is just a graduate, who has attended college to lose his virginity to a local girl. Make sure that he is employed in a job which doesn't work during the normal office hours(a BPO always fits this bill. Even the job of a male hooker does.)

Or your hero is a super-duper genius, graduating and post graduating from the top universities and B-schools, landing in a job (not on day zero)

3. Now that you have chosen the type you want

If your hero belongs to the first category, he should be continuously checking out girls, two-time his girlfriend, drink lots of caffeine, listen to English music and should blow up money much to the dissatisfaction of his lower-middle class parents.

Coming to the second category, his work place should be at his girlfriends’ city, he has to go around licking his superiors ass (with competition from his colleagues), he should try winning his to-be-in-laws hearts and a should be not-so-good worker.

4. Pardon me! The heroin!

For category one hero: His girl-friend-in-focus should be either from his office or a girl he has met through his friends at a local bar or the maid of honor when your hero was the best man at his friend’s wedding. She should be from a totally different culture and from a totally different part of the country where even our hero’s forefathers haven’t visited for picnic.

For category two: Let's put in some decency. The girl should be from the same toppe college, hot, outgoing and should have been in a live-in-relationship with our guy for atleast an year in college.

5. Sex, sex and more sex

This holds the pulse. Try to put in as much as possible and make it as erotic as say 'Letters to penthouse.'

Category one hero’s should be out banging every weekend and class two hero’s should throughout their college (Don't forget the weekends later).Innovative, romantic and crazy ideas are well taken by the GenX. Orgy’s and swaps haven't been tried as yet. May be you can.

6. The soap family

Family should be from the middle-class.

Mother should be traditional, god fearing, horoscope believer and a caste lover. She should be so caring that our hero finds it pretty irritating.

Father should be a government employee, due for retirement and should be a person who 'tries' talking to our hero once in a while (You know. Just to keep him in our pages) and has to be a person who is disappointed by our 'too-modern-an-outlook' hero. Sometimes he can be a tale twister too.

Cousins. The hero’s uncle/mothers elder brother should be a rich guy who has just married his daughter to some wealthy, undeserving guy and should help our hero’s mother find some wealthy matches with a handsome dowry. Other cousins who do nothing but show off to our hero’s mother making her more disappointed should be a part of the story.

7. Siblings!

They are a part of the family but let me elucidate a bit.

Siblings should be sisters and should preferably belong to the younger generation so that mother can keep reminding our hero that he has a task on hand while the sister goes looking for a much older guy who is married and divorced with kids. This gives a feeling to our hero that he is somewhat sane when compared to other characters in his life.

8. How to proceed?

I leave the story to you. But please see to it that you have all the above ingredients in place. Else you can sell your book for 95 rupees.

9. The End?

Happy ending is a must, either by hook or crook. Don't worry even if the whole family of our hero and heroine are devastated or even if their parents disown them. Suppose our class one hero is kicked out of the 'in focus' girl friends life, see to it that he finds a girl before you pen down the last paragraph of your story.

10. That's it?

Oh no! Please don't forget to write in the ‘Authors Note’ that you were a loser all your life and this book is your life saver. Dedication is your choice.(Be nice atleast here. Dedicate it to your parents and teachers)

Or if you think you have done well in life, write that you have an unsatisfactory job and you have written a book just to kick the boredom.

Well. That’s your checklist young writers (Trust me. Suppose I go for one, I'll for sure follow the above points).Happy scribbling!

--->KN

P.S: I'm a fan of Chetan Bhagat.

And I think I forgot about the  character ‘friends’. They are the only support to our hero, his classmates and also ‘glass’mates. Try giving the utmost importance or you will be doomed! And please remember that abuses are a must.