PART I
The uninitiated in the field of bestial psychology would typically be emotionally inclined towards a fauna that possesses a timid nature, say, for example the guinea pig or the rabbit. Even a specimen from the bovine genus (in the event that the first two are unavailable) would quite well satisfy the zoic societal need of such a person. However, after careful observation and keen study of animal behavior, in particular their sanitation habits, I have decided that I rather prefer the more aggressive members of the animal kingdom. So much so that I decided to adopt as pet a representative of the particular class. The precise carnivore that I chose was a cat of a rather black hue.
The other members of my family were aghast at the very first meeting. The wife, in particular simply could not come in terms with the idea of sharing the household with a lowly being from the less developed strata of nature. But I was determined and employed all my diplomatic skills to coerce her into welcoming the new member to the family. This was about a year or so ago. So far, so good. What I shall be narrating now and which holds the key to the future unfolding of events is what happened say about a week ago from now, well give or take a day depending on when you are reading the story. It is a true story, mind you.
The cat in question had grown rather fond of the family and I returned the affection in ample quantity. I used to have food with the cat (the cat seated on the floor, of course), used to drive around with her in tow and so on. I am sure you have a bit of an imagination. Well, knowing womankind, probably what would be clear to you too is that the look in the eyes of the wife was of a mildly disapproving nature when witnessing all these activities. The cat was well aware of this feeling of mistrust but I suppose it chose to remain silent keeping in view my relationship with the cynic. Until the fateful Monday evening, that is.
I had fed the little one and carefully tucked her under the warm flannels for a good night’s sleep. With a very approving purr, the pet got into a comfortable position and was almost starting to snort when I left for a glass of milk. Hardly had I taken a gulp when a maddening wild scream of what remotely matched a yell of a cat in distress made me spill the milk all over the place. It was not a yell of a mere cat. It was a yell from the wife, I soon discovered as the events unfolded. Another louder yell followed within a very short interval. This time it was from a cat.
I had just witnessed the tender sight of the little cat warmly settle for a sleep and my heart was filled with affection for the fellow being. In the heat of the moment, what had escaped my mind was that my wife was still busy in the kitchen and very carelessly I had switched off the light in the corridor that leads you from the kitchen to the bedroom. The wife in the mean time had decided that she was done with the daily chore and was beating a retreat towards the bedroom. In doing so, she had to trespass the domain which was currently in the control of the domesticated beast. Probably she trod on an exposed limb of the cat or probably the cat simply took it as an opportunity of revenge I could not say for sure, but the end result was that it did bite on the foot of the person in charge of the household. No wonder she was flustered and she flung the animal towards one of the walls with a mere swing of her left leg. This is when I heard the second yell and to make a long story short, the cat succumbed to the injury sustained in the process.
PART II
Usually in such circumstances, you are unnerved. My composure was shaken a little bit, I admit. But soon common sense took over and the brain resumed its normal functioning. I was left with a very odd combination of commodities to tackle with – a dead cat and a distressed wife. I decided that I could console the wife in due time, but what about the body lying loose. It is not very soothing to the nerve to be caught unaware in the company of a dead body in the middle of the night. The body would soon putrefy and there would be abominable smell in the environs before you realize. The wise thing to do in such situations was to give the body the burial it so well deserved. I set off on mission straightaway.
The graveyard was a quiet place about ten minutes drive from my humble abode. There was an eerie chilliness in the air. I started looking for the undertaker as soon as I disembarked from the car. I was looking in the long direction of the graves in the hope of human company meeting the eye. Precisely at that moment there was light tap on my shoulders from the behind. I was startled a little bit. On turning quickly, the eye was presented with a rather peculiar looking personality. He had long uncombed hair and he had a distinctly smaller left eye. He had numerous scars on the face too - the exact number of which I cannot recollect at the moment. He gave me a rather suspicious look.
“Trouble?”, asked the eccentric undertaker.
“None whatsoever. Just wanted your help in a little burial”, I replied.
“Right now?”.
“Yes, right away.”
“So there is trouble”, he said with a satisfied smirk.
In the middle of the night if you come up with burial requests to unknown undertakers with no accompanying crowd of wailing females and grave males, I suppose trouble is the usual suspect. His price was a thousand for the burial and another thousand for keeping quiet about the ceremony thereafter. I have him a surprised look.
On being enquired about the body in question, I led him towards the car. Now it was his turn to give the surprised look. So, after getting even in the department of surprised looks, he let me know that he refused to bury anything other than human remains in his esteemed graveyard.
After what seemed to me an hour’s persuasion coupled with a significant increment of his remuneration for the seemingly simple ritual, he finally gave in. With utmost respect for the deceased, he proceeded to retrieve the mortal remains of the feline lying numb in the back seat of the car. Now, most of you who are in the habit of retrieving mortal remains of domesticated fauna from back seats of cars would vouch for the fact that it is indeed a very innocuous business. You hardly sustain a scratch on the back of your hand in the process. This was precisely the anticipation on the mind of the unsuspecting undertaker. But he was in for the shock of his life. There was a hideous cry of shock and torment to be heard in the surroundings in the following moment. No only did he sustain a mere scratch on the back of his hand but an entire cube of flesh was severed from his index finger with a simple flick of the dead cat’s lower jaw. Now, you are probably wondering what modern machinery would have propelled the lower jaw of a dead cat to cause such a heinous injury on the simple-minded undertaker. You could not be more naïve.
The cat in question was not dead in the first place. It was just rendered unconscious owing to the impact on the hind quarters of its head that it sustained when slammed against the wall by the wife. It must also have lost a considerable portion of its memory in the process, I could not say for sure. But what could be said for sure was that the said graveyard was no more a safe place for a simple citizen who is entangled with a deceptively dead cat and a red-faced undertaker with an injured index finger. As the cat made a roar of a meow and was starting to make a quick exit from the spot of crime and as the simmering undertaker impulsively started to follow the cat, me being the wisest one quickly twisted the car key in its rightful socket and made good my own escape. Undertakers and cats are what I have been trying to avoid from that fateful night.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Monday, August 21, 2006
I am Not a Nerd But I Acted Like One
One of my friends advised me to write a bit about myself the other day. The fans are desperate to know more about me, he said. So, here I am, writing about my private life. I have to tell you, I am typing this real fast, at a hundred words per minute or so, lest I forget the important parts of my life. I have a very short memory mind you and so I have decided to touch upon only a few aspects this time. A life changing event, I choose to divulge to the public.
I was this simple guy back in school. My mother used to put sufficient quantity of hair oil onto my head and make me dress in shorts and a half sleeved shirt for school right up until when I was in the ninth standard or so. Nobody took any interest in me. Books were my only friends. I used to go to school and sit in the last bench and just mind my studies. Not that I was great at studies. I was rather average. There were these brilliant smart guys who used to make fun of me. I was not one to participate in the extra curricular activity either. I just used to mind my studies although I was just about average and that was about it. My life was really dull, so to speak.
I joined college. Now at that age, you know how it is, hormones surging and all that stuff. I was no exception to this cruel trick of nature. I wanted to be with the girls, you know. Have cool friends and all. I tried, tried real hard. But no luck. With the real smart ones around, I stood no chance at all. I was desperate. Now this is an aspect of my life, which the ardent fan would not appreciate very much, I suspect. But that was how it was. I have to speak the truth once in a while. Fiction is only good in storybooks. When you are writing an autobiography, you need to be truthful, I am told. Well, you can hide those embarrassing details, like, you know, when you shat in your pants in primary school, you were a victim of enuresis, and all those kinds of gory details. But most of it you need to cover.
I was out of college and I found myself a job. Well it was not a very high profile job, I have to admit. But it was enough to earn me the daily bread and stuff. I was the assistant head clerk at the local post office. Those days the pay was not so bad though. But you had to be a bit frugal to maintain even standard of living throughout the month. This was one area that I was extremely good at. I was relatively well settled in life and relatively happy. To be really happy you need to share it with someone, I was made to believe. And soon the big question raised its ugly head. I was on the lookout again. But again, no luck.
One of those days I was buying groceries for the week at a local grocery store. I met a girl. Incidentally, she was buying grocery too. She was amazingly beautiful - the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. I realized instantly that she was the one I was waiting for. She did not look at me though. She appeared very smart but simple at the same time. A woman who knew how to do her own grocery shopping. I waited for her to finish, outside. Not that anybody was noticing. I stealthily followed her. Found out she was just living two houses apart. And from then on, I would always try to find an opportunity to be near her. She never noticed though.
A close friend took notice of the series of events and cornered me with queries. I spilled all the beans. I had to. I stood no chance to his probing questions. But he turned out to be a sympathizer. And life was never the same again. When I look back, it only seems like a distant hazy dream, that earlier self of mine.
I was asked by my friend to become a nerd. I looked up the dictionary and found that nerd was someone who is rather boring and took no interest in anything in life but books or some such dull subject. That I already was, I told him. But he explained me the deeper significance of being a nerd. The real nerd, he meant. Everyone is crazy about nerds these days, he said. They just talk all the time about nerds behind their backs without the nerds ever suspecting and they would simply fight tooth and nail to be in the company of one. He took complete command over the project of my transformation.
And from then on, things changed. They changed for the better. I went to the optician and got myself fitted with a pair of spectacles. Not the one for myopic vision, a fake one with zero power, as they call. I grew my hair long and did a ponytail thing. I even started listening to some really hard music, the metal, death metal, heavy metal and all that stuff. Not that I followed anything that they sang. Even today I never understand a word. But I took pains to go to the British library and find all the lyrics of heavy metal and death metal. I had them at the tip of my tongue in no time. I was real good at memorizing stuff especially when I did not need to know their meanings. I even got myself an ipod. It took a toll on my bank balance. Not that I had one. I had to take a loan. And all the time I pretended to listen to the ipod thing. It was real cool. I suddenly started having this feeling that I was the best of the lot. I did not have any more of that inferiority complex that I always used to have. I was on top of the world as they say.
I went to the same grocery store with my ipod on and with the ponytail and with the glasses. I had put on a pair of loose jeans with the underwear showing from the top of the rim and all – specifically for the occasion. I said hi. And heads turned. I was the centre of attention with immediate effect. I could hardly believe myself. I gave the vague hollow look. You know, the look which seems to pass through the person apparently gazing at some unknown distant object. Conversation followed soon after.
Without dragging on this any further, let me tell you that I found love. I found love in the grocery store girl. We even got married. And we are happily living ever after. Only thing is, I have to listen to the ipod and damn those heavy metal stuff! So I took to writing, just as a temporary respite.
I was this simple guy back in school. My mother used to put sufficient quantity of hair oil onto my head and make me dress in shorts and a half sleeved shirt for school right up until when I was in the ninth standard or so. Nobody took any interest in me. Books were my only friends. I used to go to school and sit in the last bench and just mind my studies. Not that I was great at studies. I was rather average. There were these brilliant smart guys who used to make fun of me. I was not one to participate in the extra curricular activity either. I just used to mind my studies although I was just about average and that was about it. My life was really dull, so to speak.
I joined college. Now at that age, you know how it is, hormones surging and all that stuff. I was no exception to this cruel trick of nature. I wanted to be with the girls, you know. Have cool friends and all. I tried, tried real hard. But no luck. With the real smart ones around, I stood no chance at all. I was desperate. Now this is an aspect of my life, which the ardent fan would not appreciate very much, I suspect. But that was how it was. I have to speak the truth once in a while. Fiction is only good in storybooks. When you are writing an autobiography, you need to be truthful, I am told. Well, you can hide those embarrassing details, like, you know, when you shat in your pants in primary school, you were a victim of enuresis, and all those kinds of gory details. But most of it you need to cover.
I was out of college and I found myself a job. Well it was not a very high profile job, I have to admit. But it was enough to earn me the daily bread and stuff. I was the assistant head clerk at the local post office. Those days the pay was not so bad though. But you had to be a bit frugal to maintain even standard of living throughout the month. This was one area that I was extremely good at. I was relatively well settled in life and relatively happy. To be really happy you need to share it with someone, I was made to believe. And soon the big question raised its ugly head. I was on the lookout again. But again, no luck.
One of those days I was buying groceries for the week at a local grocery store. I met a girl. Incidentally, she was buying grocery too. She was amazingly beautiful - the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. I realized instantly that she was the one I was waiting for. She did not look at me though. She appeared very smart but simple at the same time. A woman who knew how to do her own grocery shopping. I waited for her to finish, outside. Not that anybody was noticing. I stealthily followed her. Found out she was just living two houses apart. And from then on, I would always try to find an opportunity to be near her. She never noticed though.
A close friend took notice of the series of events and cornered me with queries. I spilled all the beans. I had to. I stood no chance to his probing questions. But he turned out to be a sympathizer. And life was never the same again. When I look back, it only seems like a distant hazy dream, that earlier self of mine.
I was asked by my friend to become a nerd. I looked up the dictionary and found that nerd was someone who is rather boring and took no interest in anything in life but books or some such dull subject. That I already was, I told him. But he explained me the deeper significance of being a nerd. The real nerd, he meant. Everyone is crazy about nerds these days, he said. They just talk all the time about nerds behind their backs without the nerds ever suspecting and they would simply fight tooth and nail to be in the company of one. He took complete command over the project of my transformation.
And from then on, things changed. They changed for the better. I went to the optician and got myself fitted with a pair of spectacles. Not the one for myopic vision, a fake one with zero power, as they call. I grew my hair long and did a ponytail thing. I even started listening to some really hard music, the metal, death metal, heavy metal and all that stuff. Not that I followed anything that they sang. Even today I never understand a word. But I took pains to go to the British library and find all the lyrics of heavy metal and death metal. I had them at the tip of my tongue in no time. I was real good at memorizing stuff especially when I did not need to know their meanings. I even got myself an ipod. It took a toll on my bank balance. Not that I had one. I had to take a loan. And all the time I pretended to listen to the ipod thing. It was real cool. I suddenly started having this feeling that I was the best of the lot. I did not have any more of that inferiority complex that I always used to have. I was on top of the world as they say.
I went to the same grocery store with my ipod on and with the ponytail and with the glasses. I had put on a pair of loose jeans with the underwear showing from the top of the rim and all – specifically for the occasion. I said hi. And heads turned. I was the centre of attention with immediate effect. I could hardly believe myself. I gave the vague hollow look. You know, the look which seems to pass through the person apparently gazing at some unknown distant object. Conversation followed soon after.
Without dragging on this any further, let me tell you that I found love. I found love in the grocery store girl. We even got married. And we are happily living ever after. Only thing is, I have to listen to the ipod and damn those heavy metal stuff! So I took to writing, just as a temporary respite.
Afternoon Delight
A trying assignment in the last couple of months had taken its toll on my nerves. I needed a break to recharge my batteries and regain my mental agility. A few weeks in the Himalayas could do the trick, I was tempted to believe. But when I so proposed to my loving wife, I could manage to get an afternoon off sanctioned. So the deal was struck and the only formality left was to decide on the date. Wednesday being the middle of the working week sounded good to both of us. Everything was settled.
Early Wednesday morning I drove my wife to work, trying hard to conceal the more than usual joviality in my general demeanour. After so many years of marriage, I was well aware of the fact that one should not generally go overboard in demonstrating the penchant for solitary afternoons lest one wants to put all possible future occurrences in jeopardy. I chose to play it safe.
The drive back home sans my better half was a noticeably quicker one. Sweet anticipation of what the afternoon all for myself had in store had me breezing through the city traffic with utmost ease. Enroute, an odd motor-cycle made a slight brush along the side of the car carving a minor dent. But I hardly took notice. “Time was precious and time should not be lost in mundane conversation”, was my motto of the day.
I reached home with hardly enough time to take a quick bath and chalk out an agenda for the afternoon. It had to be a memorable afternoon. All possible propositions had to be crammed into the schedule. A movie, a few hours in the bookstore, a bit of idling around appreciating the general greenery, a few mugs of beer if time permits - everything had to feature in the agenda. Life is short and afternoons such as these are usually faster paced - so diligent planning was of utmost essence. With a quick sketch of a tentative plan in mind, I set forth.
Life in the suburbs is usually peaceful and less eventful, but to catch the actions of city life first hand, you need to be at the city centre and to be there, you need to catch a bus (of course, on occassions such as these, you do not want to stress yourself with the driving). This is precisely the first thing that I attempted to do. So far all went as per plan. I could even manage to find myself a seat in the bus which was a bit of a luxury.
At this juncture, with the absence of any monitoring element, I let vent to my inner exuberance. I no longer needed to conceal my blissful state with any hideous regulation imposed by society. Freedom of expression was quickly taking over as the order of the day. Getting slightly carried away, I gave myself the liberty of smiling at about nothing. In the heat of the moment I failed to detect that my blank smile was being unwittingly directed towards a particularly appealing member of the fairer sex that had, in the mean time, firmly positioned itself in the opposite seat. She smiled back. Soon general cognizance regained control. The appealing prospects of the day dissuaded me from getting distracted and I resumed focus on the prime objective of the afternoon at hand. However, the present exchange of nonverbal pleasantries attracted the attention of the ticket collector who had been ignoring me so far. With a disapproving frown on his brow he approached me demanding to inspect my ticket. Although I had so far attached little importance to procuring a ticket and legitimizing the journey, when confronted, I did not allow myself to be counted among those who shy away from responsibility. I promptly eased my right hand in an attempt to procure the wallet.
This is when all hell broke loose. I do not remember whether it is Murphy's law that roughly amounts to state that you do not get something when you need it the most and I do not care if the law is backed by statistically collected samples, what I do remember is that I have never needed a wallet filled with ample currency notes more dearly than at that precise moment. Between the time when I returned home to take the bath and the moment when I took off for the bus, the life changing event which I failed to register was my changing into a fresh pair of trousers with the wallet comfortably nestling in the back pocket of the older pair.
The look on the ticket collector's face said it all. In the evening when I found myself recovering from the cruel game life played on me and the long walk home after facing the humiliation meted out by the ticket collector, the only solace was the possibility of another delightful afternoon if only sometime in the remote future.
Early Wednesday morning I drove my wife to work, trying hard to conceal the more than usual joviality in my general demeanour. After so many years of marriage, I was well aware of the fact that one should not generally go overboard in demonstrating the penchant for solitary afternoons lest one wants to put all possible future occurrences in jeopardy. I chose to play it safe.
The drive back home sans my better half was a noticeably quicker one. Sweet anticipation of what the afternoon all for myself had in store had me breezing through the city traffic with utmost ease. Enroute, an odd motor-cycle made a slight brush along the side of the car carving a minor dent. But I hardly took notice. “Time was precious and time should not be lost in mundane conversation”, was my motto of the day.
I reached home with hardly enough time to take a quick bath and chalk out an agenda for the afternoon. It had to be a memorable afternoon. All possible propositions had to be crammed into the schedule. A movie, a few hours in the bookstore, a bit of idling around appreciating the general greenery, a few mugs of beer if time permits - everything had to feature in the agenda. Life is short and afternoons such as these are usually faster paced - so diligent planning was of utmost essence. With a quick sketch of a tentative plan in mind, I set forth.
Life in the suburbs is usually peaceful and less eventful, but to catch the actions of city life first hand, you need to be at the city centre and to be there, you need to catch a bus (of course, on occassions such as these, you do not want to stress yourself with the driving). This is precisely the first thing that I attempted to do. So far all went as per plan. I could even manage to find myself a seat in the bus which was a bit of a luxury.
At this juncture, with the absence of any monitoring element, I let vent to my inner exuberance. I no longer needed to conceal my blissful state with any hideous regulation imposed by society. Freedom of expression was quickly taking over as the order of the day. Getting slightly carried away, I gave myself the liberty of smiling at about nothing. In the heat of the moment I failed to detect that my blank smile was being unwittingly directed towards a particularly appealing member of the fairer sex that had, in the mean time, firmly positioned itself in the opposite seat. She smiled back. Soon general cognizance regained control. The appealing prospects of the day dissuaded me from getting distracted and I resumed focus on the prime objective of the afternoon at hand. However, the present exchange of nonverbal pleasantries attracted the attention of the ticket collector who had been ignoring me so far. With a disapproving frown on his brow he approached me demanding to inspect my ticket. Although I had so far attached little importance to procuring a ticket and legitimizing the journey, when confronted, I did not allow myself to be counted among those who shy away from responsibility. I promptly eased my right hand in an attempt to procure the wallet.
This is when all hell broke loose. I do not remember whether it is Murphy's law that roughly amounts to state that you do not get something when you need it the most and I do not care if the law is backed by statistically collected samples, what I do remember is that I have never needed a wallet filled with ample currency notes more dearly than at that precise moment. Between the time when I returned home to take the bath and the moment when I took off for the bus, the life changing event which I failed to register was my changing into a fresh pair of trousers with the wallet comfortably nestling in the back pocket of the older pair.
The look on the ticket collector's face said it all. In the evening when I found myself recovering from the cruel game life played on me and the long walk home after facing the humiliation meted out by the ticket collector, the only solace was the possibility of another delightful afternoon if only sometime in the remote future.
Friday, August 18, 2006
I Got A Seat In The Metro
Competition is of a cut-throat nature these days as many of you would have already keenly observed. You can find stiff competition in almost every walk of life, say for example in finding a suitable job, getting access to a relatively attractive specimen of the opposite sex (with the intension of marriage of course) if it happens to be the fairer one - even more so otherwise. Not to speak of more important aspects of life such as getting access to the toilet at airports, getting movie tickets, at the barber shop and the list seems to go on. I intend not to put the complete list in this particular piece. I choose to be terse in my explanations when given the choice to be so. Well let us go ahead with the story at hand then.
I was assigned to this particular mission which, well was a secret mission. I take the liberty to disclose minor aspects of this mission in an obscure way to avoid the case of information leakage. For the benefit of the reader and at the same time keeping in mind the clandestine nature of my business, I shall call my home country X and the country in question Y. I was on a mission in country Y.
As most of you who are in clandestine missions would very well be aware of, you are seldom entitled to the usual luxuries of life when on one. Luxuries such as a chauffer driven car or the best of hotels in the vicinity which are quite basic to you otherwise. The authorities are quite strict in these aspects and they take special care to make sure that you do not attract unwanted attention with the lavish display of pomp and grandeur. I could not completely disagree with their view. But you do tend to feel deprived once in a while. Early morning is one such time.
I was on a mission which demanded frequent travel within the periphery of what you could call the metropolitan area of country Y and for this purpose I was only entitled to the use of the local metro rail system. I had to be discreet even in doing so. But what ailed me every morning and evening was the fact that I invariably had to do so in the upright standing position. This was not essential for the purpose of being discreet and was surely not imposed upon by the authorities. It was cruelly imposed upon me by the competition that you usually find under those circumstances. I hardly had a chance. The competition for the vacant seat was indeed very stiff and any effort you would put would be turned fruitless in the blink of an eye. For there were already a host of fellow passengers who were on the prowl. No sooner is a seat let out, a gloating candidate would jump on the oppurtunity and deprieve you of the comforts you so well deserve. I was fed up of this regular hassle.
I had to devise a ploy. I am not the one who would be left out in the business of being cunning when the bait is thrown. I spent almost a sleepless night. The mind was working hard and when the mind is working hard, you usually do not interrupt it with unnecessary sleep. Precisely what I did. And then like a flash of bright light, the idea struck. It was a very heckneyed idea. I was almost left wondering why had I not thought of it in an instant. Well, senility does take its toll on the quick wit. In my case it was rather mild though, I would be pround to state. In any case, I managed to get a few hours of quick sleep in the early morning. When I awoke, I was fresh as a daisy, as the saying goes. I was very eager to embark upon my cleverly chalked out plan. I did the usual morning chore nevertheless. Soon I set out on my mission.
The metro station looked much more appealing to my eye. The environment was most congenial. I could see the very meticulously cleaned surroundings and the well thought out entry and exit points. Hardly any passenger would collide with his fellow passenger on his way in or out. The passengers themselves were very courteous. They always waited for the outgoing passengers to disembark before themselves boarding. When the mind is keen it can observe intricate details which is not well appreciated by the naked eye in another mood. And this is precisely what I was experiencing first hand that morning. Their was an air of cheerfulness about me. I whistled. A young girl probably in her early twenties passing by gave me a queer look. I carried on.
I got into the metro and not wasting any more time, started to realize my plan. I carefully scrutinized the probable candidates for my experimentation. There at the corner of the coach were a couple of drunken looking men. I deceptively walked across the coach towards those men. There were not many standing around them probably because they were not very innocuous in their appearances. This did not daunt me a bit. I stood beside them for a while to acclimatise myself with this new environment. The heart was racing with excitement. A station had just passed. I could not wait any longer. I took out the coin and let it drop nonchalantly.
Now many of you who are well familiar with such situations must be aware that the possibility of attaining the temporary ownership of a vacant seat alerts those on the prowl only when you are about to reach a new station. In between they lie dormant. It was this oppurtunity that I was looking for. And no sooner did the coin start to roll, atleast a couple of those drunken pupils flikered, the eyeball followed the trajectory of the coin. He could resist no longer. Like a hawk he pounched on the unsuspecting coin. And oppurtunity presented itself. The sight of the cosy vacant seat made my mouth water. I wasted not a second. The drunkard gave me a long hard look. He was happy though, now that he had the coin all for himself. It was a case of symbiosis, you could not deny.
Only in the very next station, an old lady who had just boarded gave me a very earnest look. And alas, I had to be courteous. With a heavy heart, I was walking the platform when I reached the destination.
I was assigned to this particular mission which, well was a secret mission. I take the liberty to disclose minor aspects of this mission in an obscure way to avoid the case of information leakage. For the benefit of the reader and at the same time keeping in mind the clandestine nature of my business, I shall call my home country X and the country in question Y. I was on a mission in country Y.
As most of you who are in clandestine missions would very well be aware of, you are seldom entitled to the usual luxuries of life when on one. Luxuries such as a chauffer driven car or the best of hotels in the vicinity which are quite basic to you otherwise. The authorities are quite strict in these aspects and they take special care to make sure that you do not attract unwanted attention with the lavish display of pomp and grandeur. I could not completely disagree with their view. But you do tend to feel deprived once in a while. Early morning is one such time.
I was on a mission which demanded frequent travel within the periphery of what you could call the metropolitan area of country Y and for this purpose I was only entitled to the use of the local metro rail system. I had to be discreet even in doing so. But what ailed me every morning and evening was the fact that I invariably had to do so in the upright standing position. This was not essential for the purpose of being discreet and was surely not imposed upon by the authorities. It was cruelly imposed upon me by the competition that you usually find under those circumstances. I hardly had a chance. The competition for the vacant seat was indeed very stiff and any effort you would put would be turned fruitless in the blink of an eye. For there were already a host of fellow passengers who were on the prowl. No sooner is a seat let out, a gloating candidate would jump on the oppurtunity and deprieve you of the comforts you so well deserve. I was fed up of this regular hassle.
I had to devise a ploy. I am not the one who would be left out in the business of being cunning when the bait is thrown. I spent almost a sleepless night. The mind was working hard and when the mind is working hard, you usually do not interrupt it with unnecessary sleep. Precisely what I did. And then like a flash of bright light, the idea struck. It was a very heckneyed idea. I was almost left wondering why had I not thought of it in an instant. Well, senility does take its toll on the quick wit. In my case it was rather mild though, I would be pround to state. In any case, I managed to get a few hours of quick sleep in the early morning. When I awoke, I was fresh as a daisy, as the saying goes. I was very eager to embark upon my cleverly chalked out plan. I did the usual morning chore nevertheless. Soon I set out on my mission.
The metro station looked much more appealing to my eye. The environment was most congenial. I could see the very meticulously cleaned surroundings and the well thought out entry and exit points. Hardly any passenger would collide with his fellow passenger on his way in or out. The passengers themselves were very courteous. They always waited for the outgoing passengers to disembark before themselves boarding. When the mind is keen it can observe intricate details which is not well appreciated by the naked eye in another mood. And this is precisely what I was experiencing first hand that morning. Their was an air of cheerfulness about me. I whistled. A young girl probably in her early twenties passing by gave me a queer look. I carried on.
I got into the metro and not wasting any more time, started to realize my plan. I carefully scrutinized the probable candidates for my experimentation. There at the corner of the coach were a couple of drunken looking men. I deceptively walked across the coach towards those men. There were not many standing around them probably because they were not very innocuous in their appearances. This did not daunt me a bit. I stood beside them for a while to acclimatise myself with this new environment. The heart was racing with excitement. A station had just passed. I could not wait any longer. I took out the coin and let it drop nonchalantly.
Now many of you who are well familiar with such situations must be aware that the possibility of attaining the temporary ownership of a vacant seat alerts those on the prowl only when you are about to reach a new station. In between they lie dormant. It was this oppurtunity that I was looking for. And no sooner did the coin start to roll, atleast a couple of those drunken pupils flikered, the eyeball followed the trajectory of the coin. He could resist no longer. Like a hawk he pounched on the unsuspecting coin. And oppurtunity presented itself. The sight of the cosy vacant seat made my mouth water. I wasted not a second. The drunkard gave me a long hard look. He was happy though, now that he had the coin all for himself. It was a case of symbiosis, you could not deny.
Only in the very next station, an old lady who had just boarded gave me a very earnest look. And alas, I had to be courteous. With a heavy heart, I was walking the platform when I reached the destination.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Adventures in Xin Tian Di
Well, many of you reading this article, or rather a short chronicle, would be very familiar with the place called “xin tian di”. It must be a topic of almost everyday discussions for you. But a very negligible minority would also be quite unaware of its whereabouts. I do not blame them for being naïve in this particular department. They have a right to be so. For the benefit of this small minority, I shall resort to drawing a brief description (with words, of course), of this particular location. Not at length though.
It is a dazzling place, to say the least. People rarely sleep in Xin Tian Di. The reason probably is because it is primarily a destination of nocturnal activities rather than diurnal. During the daytime, you would rarely find anyone trespassing its periphery with the hope of finding anything of interest. Not that it is disallowed. It is perfectly legal even during broad daylight to be found taking a stroll in the streets of Xin Tian Di. But the night is when the real action starts. In short, it is a heavenly abode for the lone traveler seeking solace with agreeable feminine company and to add to it, availability of music for entertainment and ale to quench the usual thirst in generous quantity. Most of you may already be forming a very accurate idea of what the place holds. But others might be drawing towards the wrong conclusion. I leave them free to do so.
We were thirsty. The ‘we’ constituted of me and one of my very able colleagues. We were stranded in an unknown city of vast population with hardly anyone of close familiarity. We had nothing to do during the daytime. But who cares about daytime. The evening is when the fun begins. You would already be smart enough to deduce how the feeling is on such occasions. We were thirsty for sure and we wanted some action too. So we consulted some local experts with specialization in this particular field and we got the hint that Xin Tian Di may be the place we are looking for. So we decided to set off with immediate effect.
It must be around 9 in the evening (or night, if you insist) that we treated ourselves with a sumptuous dinner and set sail in search of Xin Tian Di. We were pretty excited with the possibilities, I have to admit. The mode of transportation we converged on was a taxi. Taxies were the prevalent mode of transportation in the city in consideration. With the mere wave of a hand you could have at least a couple of taxies stop at your feet. We could stop one readily.
“Ni Hao!”, I said.
“Ni Hao!”, replied the driver.
“Xin Tian Di”, I said.
“Tin Bu Dong”, said the man in charge of the taxi
Until now, the exchange of dialogues may not have been of any significant interest to the casual reader. But now it did. What he said roughly amounted to saying “I do not understand you”. Now this was a tight spot. I was not very well aware of the local lingo although I take pride in being able to manage quite well so far. And if you are well versed with my previous chronicles, you must be aware by now that I am not a man to give up and accept defeat at the face of it. I tend to give stiff resistance. And stiff resistance is what I gave on this occasion.
“X-i-n T-i-a-n D-i”, I said.
He gave a vigorous jerk to his head.
I was very pleased with myself. I inhaled considerable amount of air into my lungs to ensure the chest bloated. My able colleague was very proud of my efforts. We started our quest.
After about an hour’s drive, the taxi came to a screeching halt. The event did not move us. The driver on this occasion gave us a queer look.
“Wajida”, he said.
“Oh”, we said in unison.
We had finally arrived! The place that holds all the secrets of nocturnal pleasures was right in front of our eyes. It was dazzling all right. But not quite. We were amazed, but probably we expected too much. You must be aware in situations when you have too much anticipation, the real thing appears slightly deflated. As you would have rightly guessed, we were experiencing similar emotions at that moment. That was not to deter us though. We barged in.
There was displayed to our view pool tables and bowling alleys in ample quantity. There was ale and women too in ample quantity. And we gambolled along. We hopped one pool table to another. Bowled one alley and then another. Our excitement knew no bounds. We did even enjoy the ale. We left the women alone. And after a night full of amusing activities we returned home with a feeling of contentment. We had the right to be content.
Early next morning we set out for the workplace. After all, you have to work and let pleasure take a back seat now and then. That we did. But during lunchtime, we also discussed at length with our specially recruited experts in the amusement department and disclosed what we did the previous night. They were thrilled no doubt and very pleased to share our happiness. But what did strike as a dampening note was that the “Xin Tian Di” in our case was “Xan Tan Di”, a place that offered amusement far lower in level that what “Xin Tian Di” would have offered. And early next morning was our return flight.
It is a dazzling place, to say the least. People rarely sleep in Xin Tian Di. The reason probably is because it is primarily a destination of nocturnal activities rather than diurnal. During the daytime, you would rarely find anyone trespassing its periphery with the hope of finding anything of interest. Not that it is disallowed. It is perfectly legal even during broad daylight to be found taking a stroll in the streets of Xin Tian Di. But the night is when the real action starts. In short, it is a heavenly abode for the lone traveler seeking solace with agreeable feminine company and to add to it, availability of music for entertainment and ale to quench the usual thirst in generous quantity. Most of you may already be forming a very accurate idea of what the place holds. But others might be drawing towards the wrong conclusion. I leave them free to do so.
We were thirsty. The ‘we’ constituted of me and one of my very able colleagues. We were stranded in an unknown city of vast population with hardly anyone of close familiarity. We had nothing to do during the daytime. But who cares about daytime. The evening is when the fun begins. You would already be smart enough to deduce how the feeling is on such occasions. We were thirsty for sure and we wanted some action too. So we consulted some local experts with specialization in this particular field and we got the hint that Xin Tian Di may be the place we are looking for. So we decided to set off with immediate effect.
It must be around 9 in the evening (or night, if you insist) that we treated ourselves with a sumptuous dinner and set sail in search of Xin Tian Di. We were pretty excited with the possibilities, I have to admit. The mode of transportation we converged on was a taxi. Taxies were the prevalent mode of transportation in the city in consideration. With the mere wave of a hand you could have at least a couple of taxies stop at your feet. We could stop one readily.
“Ni Hao!”, I said.
“Ni Hao!”, replied the driver.
“Xin Tian Di”, I said.
“Tin Bu Dong”, said the man in charge of the taxi
Until now, the exchange of dialogues may not have been of any significant interest to the casual reader. But now it did. What he said roughly amounted to saying “I do not understand you”. Now this was a tight spot. I was not very well aware of the local lingo although I take pride in being able to manage quite well so far. And if you are well versed with my previous chronicles, you must be aware by now that I am not a man to give up and accept defeat at the face of it. I tend to give stiff resistance. And stiff resistance is what I gave on this occasion.
“X-i-n T-i-a-n D-i”, I said.
He gave a vigorous jerk to his head.
I was very pleased with myself. I inhaled considerable amount of air into my lungs to ensure the chest bloated. My able colleague was very proud of my efforts. We started our quest.
After about an hour’s drive, the taxi came to a screeching halt. The event did not move us. The driver on this occasion gave us a queer look.
“Wajida”, he said.
“Oh”, we said in unison.
We had finally arrived! The place that holds all the secrets of nocturnal pleasures was right in front of our eyes. It was dazzling all right. But not quite. We were amazed, but probably we expected too much. You must be aware in situations when you have too much anticipation, the real thing appears slightly deflated. As you would have rightly guessed, we were experiencing similar emotions at that moment. That was not to deter us though. We barged in.
There was displayed to our view pool tables and bowling alleys in ample quantity. There was ale and women too in ample quantity. And we gambolled along. We hopped one pool table to another. Bowled one alley and then another. Our excitement knew no bounds. We did even enjoy the ale. We left the women alone. And after a night full of amusing activities we returned home with a feeling of contentment. We had the right to be content.
Early next morning we set out for the workplace. After all, you have to work and let pleasure take a back seat now and then. That we did. But during lunchtime, we also discussed at length with our specially recruited experts in the amusement department and disclosed what we did the previous night. They were thrilled no doubt and very pleased to share our happiness. But what did strike as a dampening note was that the “Xin Tian Di” in our case was “Xan Tan Di”, a place that offered amusement far lower in level that what “Xin Tian Di” would have offered. And early next morning was our return flight.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Beware of the mad dog in the night
“To venture or not to venture". The usual question that nags the mind of the uninitiated in the night time in a deserted street of Bangalore, especially if he happens to be in the state of ambulation with his feet exposed to the wilderness. I was no exception to the above fact the other night. I was in a slightly less susceptible condition, one might say, being accompanied by my motorbike and my girlfriend riding pillion. This knowledge, however, did not alleviate the panic that was caused within.
(Without aid of the title of the blog, the naive reader would be wondering by know, what primal fear I have been alluding to thus far. And now that the suspense has been broken, I may, with your kind permission, go ahead with the story.)
It was a pack of ravening, bloodthirsty canines that were threatening to prey on us. There was a menacing look in their eyes. The fangs were clearly exposed even to the casual observer. A chill went down my nerves. I was the audacious one-in-a-million savior that my beloved, now sulking behind my back, had pinned all her hopes on to save her at this eleventh hour. And here I was faced with the dilemma of whether to keep the hard-earned reputation intact or answer the need of the hour - make good our escape. I can imagine at this juncture many a brave heart would have skipped a beat or two. And I do not lay claim to have been an exception. But you need to be tactful when the situation demands. And I am not among those who refuse to demonstrate a pinch of tact under given circumstances.
"Dearest, we are faced with a situation".
"So I see", said my beloved.
"And what do you suggest?", I said, hopefully.
"That was your department, I was assuming", she said, dashing all my hopes.
"Well, well, well let me think".
I was running the motor of my headquarters at a vigorous speed in the hope of coming up with something good.
At this juncture, I would like to divulge a bit of my background information for you to appreciate the situation that I presently find myself in. I am one of a myriad young software engineers that have made home this salubrious city. I had bought a motorcycle recently with an intension to befriend a suitable candidate of the fairer sex, drive her around and have a good time. And thus far I had succeeded. I had even been able to garner sufficient goodwill from the protagonist that I have been referring to as my "beloved" and "girlfriend" on previous occasion, to be able to take her out late in the evening for a movie. I was even aware of the menace that the canine family had been creating in my neighborhood based on experience on numerous occasions when back from work or pleasure late in the evenings. However on such occurrences, I was able to skillfully avoid the vigorous threats from the barking nuisance with by legs carefully tucked upward on the seat of my motorbike and speeding the vehicle until I was in the hospitable environment of the apartment complex. Foot gears of motorbikes are not among my top priorities on such emergencies. But alas, what I was so naively unaware was the presence of the same canine plague in the environment of my beloved's dwelling.
As I was pondering, providence stuck. My relieved ears could sense the soothing arrival of a four wheeled savior at this hour of peril. The attention of the nocturnal hound was clearly diverted towards the more effluent class of the society and I was given to believe that I was temporarily relieved from the imminent disaster by some unknown force. As the gang of barking menace commenced their pursuit of the four-wheeler, I surreptitiously sneaked through. Not that I gave the slightest inking of what was going about by nervous system to the gullible protagonist at the back. Like a knight in shining armor, I drove her to the appropriate destination without a scratch on her exterior. And exchanging chivalrous greetings, I decided to strike the parting note for it had been an eventful day and I shall be honest to admit that I was slightly fatigued after the series of events.
The street that leads to the abode of my beloved had a thick bushy growth at the corner. There was a leaking tap of municipal water which had made the surrounding a little damp and there was waste food being carelessly dumped by housewives in the vicinity. This constituted the perfect den for the mad ravening monster of a dog lurking deceptively waiting for unsuspecting victims. I was just about to make a turn round the corner that it pounced on my exposed feet and caused lacerating wounds of uncountable number. I was dazed for a few seconds before recovering and applying full throttle to the motor of my bike. In no time I steered clear of the assailant and found myself in a relatively congenial environment. With a few hurried phone calls, some of my friends rescued me from ground zero and laid me in a comfortable bed of a well known hospital the name of which I am not authorized to disclose.
After about an hour’s waiting, I was confronted with a very charming member of the nursing community who presented herself with a tray laden with syringes and needles of varying shape and size. I have to admit that at this juncture I was trifle alarmed and not unreasonably so. She asked me to turn over and lower my trousers to expose the posterior for medical reasons which you all may well be aware of. But my unsuspecting mind augmented by the presence of the reasonably attractive lady in tow was not prepared for the events that followed. I would be conservative in my estimate if I state that a needle (attached to a syringe of course) of no less that a few millimeters in diameter (or radius, I cannot remember) was mercilessly introduced to my muscular system. I am generally averse to foreign objects being introduced carelessly to people’s systems and this was a superlative case of unwarned intrusion. I was dazed, demoralized. I was being violated without doubt. I was not only left screaming my lungs out, but if I remember well, I lost consciousness if only for a few moments.
And as I regained my wits, I was left wondering whether the stiff fangs of my canine tormentor came even close second to the needled syringe that this monster of a nurse treated me with. And another point that registered in my mind was never to venture in the dark hours on my own without proper ammunition handy.
(Without aid of the title of the blog, the naive reader would be wondering by know, what primal fear I have been alluding to thus far. And now that the suspense has been broken, I may, with your kind permission, go ahead with the story.)
It was a pack of ravening, bloodthirsty canines that were threatening to prey on us. There was a menacing look in their eyes. The fangs were clearly exposed even to the casual observer. A chill went down my nerves. I was the audacious one-in-a-million savior that my beloved, now sulking behind my back, had pinned all her hopes on to save her at this eleventh hour. And here I was faced with the dilemma of whether to keep the hard-earned reputation intact or answer the need of the hour - make good our escape. I can imagine at this juncture many a brave heart would have skipped a beat or two. And I do not lay claim to have been an exception. But you need to be tactful when the situation demands. And I am not among those who refuse to demonstrate a pinch of tact under given circumstances.
"Dearest, we are faced with a situation".
"So I see", said my beloved.
"And what do you suggest?", I said, hopefully.
"That was your department, I was assuming", she said, dashing all my hopes.
"Well, well, well let me think".
I was running the motor of my headquarters at a vigorous speed in the hope of coming up with something good.
At this juncture, I would like to divulge a bit of my background information for you to appreciate the situation that I presently find myself in. I am one of a myriad young software engineers that have made home this salubrious city. I had bought a motorcycle recently with an intension to befriend a suitable candidate of the fairer sex, drive her around and have a good time. And thus far I had succeeded. I had even been able to garner sufficient goodwill from the protagonist that I have been referring to as my "beloved" and "girlfriend" on previous occasion, to be able to take her out late in the evening for a movie. I was even aware of the menace that the canine family had been creating in my neighborhood based on experience on numerous occasions when back from work or pleasure late in the evenings. However on such occurrences, I was able to skillfully avoid the vigorous threats from the barking nuisance with by legs carefully tucked upward on the seat of my motorbike and speeding the vehicle until I was in the hospitable environment of the apartment complex. Foot gears of motorbikes are not among my top priorities on such emergencies. But alas, what I was so naively unaware was the presence of the same canine plague in the environment of my beloved's dwelling.
As I was pondering, providence stuck. My relieved ears could sense the soothing arrival of a four wheeled savior at this hour of peril. The attention of the nocturnal hound was clearly diverted towards the more effluent class of the society and I was given to believe that I was temporarily relieved from the imminent disaster by some unknown force. As the gang of barking menace commenced their pursuit of the four-wheeler, I surreptitiously sneaked through. Not that I gave the slightest inking of what was going about by nervous system to the gullible protagonist at the back. Like a knight in shining armor, I drove her to the appropriate destination without a scratch on her exterior. And exchanging chivalrous greetings, I decided to strike the parting note for it had been an eventful day and I shall be honest to admit that I was slightly fatigued after the series of events.
The street that leads to the abode of my beloved had a thick bushy growth at the corner. There was a leaking tap of municipal water which had made the surrounding a little damp and there was waste food being carelessly dumped by housewives in the vicinity. This constituted the perfect den for the mad ravening monster of a dog lurking deceptively waiting for unsuspecting victims. I was just about to make a turn round the corner that it pounced on my exposed feet and caused lacerating wounds of uncountable number. I was dazed for a few seconds before recovering and applying full throttle to the motor of my bike. In no time I steered clear of the assailant and found myself in a relatively congenial environment. With a few hurried phone calls, some of my friends rescued me from ground zero and laid me in a comfortable bed of a well known hospital the name of which I am not authorized to disclose.
After about an hour’s waiting, I was confronted with a very charming member of the nursing community who presented herself with a tray laden with syringes and needles of varying shape and size. I have to admit that at this juncture I was trifle alarmed and not unreasonably so. She asked me to turn over and lower my trousers to expose the posterior for medical reasons which you all may well be aware of. But my unsuspecting mind augmented by the presence of the reasonably attractive lady in tow was not prepared for the events that followed. I would be conservative in my estimate if I state that a needle (attached to a syringe of course) of no less that a few millimeters in diameter (or radius, I cannot remember) was mercilessly introduced to my muscular system. I am generally averse to foreign objects being introduced carelessly to people’s systems and this was a superlative case of unwarned intrusion. I was dazed, demoralized. I was being violated without doubt. I was not only left screaming my lungs out, but if I remember well, I lost consciousness if only for a few moments.
And as I regained my wits, I was left wondering whether the stiff fangs of my canine tormentor came even close second to the needled syringe that this monster of a nurse treated me with. And another point that registered in my mind was never to venture in the dark hours on my own without proper ammunition handy.