Pensieve 2.0

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I got a topic to blog about (Finally, after more than a month!)
And quite obviously, it is about another round of troubles. For some reason, I often find myself in trouble through the most bizarre ways.

It all started when I went to HDFC Bank to pay the fee for a US Visa Interview (VI). I filled up my name as it should have been (and I thought it was, until 5 seconds later!) in the passport. But the snake eyes of the clerk, who matched it with my passport, found out that I had written my name wrong. According to my passport, I had no Given Name. My entire name was my surname. So I was wrong about my name all along. He told me that if I don’t fill up my name as in passport, there will be a problem in my VI. It was all weird since I have once traveled to USA with this passport, and by giving my name as it should have been. Evidently enough, my B1 visa had my name correct. The Given Name field indeed was Deepak here. It was funny that nobody had noticed that till now. I failed to notice the discrepancy for a whole 9 years.
The clerk suggested that I write my name like in passport in all matters henceforth. I didn’t think so. I didn’t want strangers to call me Mr. Deepak Ranganathan, and my friends to call me “” (I don’t know how to pronounce a nullity of characters)

I told him I’m not paying the fee. He asked me the quintessential question of modern day bankers, “Why Sir?”

Like in
Telephone caller: Hello sir, we are offering an excellent personal loan for you.
Me: Not interested
Caller: Why Sir?

“I’d rather change my name in the passport before scheduling the VI”, I replied.

So I was here in Palakkad, for a vacation of 10 days, one of my mission objectives being the change I have to make in my passport. The lesser objective was to be a couch potato at home, which would have succeeded, if not for the constant power cuts which made sure that I moved around so that I didn’t sweat.

On Tuesday, I set off on my crusade to the passport office - a grueling journey of 3 hours in shaky buses with little padding on the seats and not enough room for your legs. It was close to 10am by the time I reached there. The queue was already a gargantuan slithering python. Slowly it moved until there were about 10 people ahead of me. It was 1pm. Closing time already. We pleaded and cried to the lady at the counter. It was just a matter of 12 more people. She was ruthless when she asked us to come back the next day. After having so many trysts with trouble, I should have seen this coming. I start to wonder if a little optimism is a dangerous thing. It seems like that to me. Murphy’s law is a fundamental principle around which the world revolves.

The next day, I caught the 5am bus, so that I will be in the forefront in the queue. Luckily enough, I was about 20th (!) in the queue at 8 am. The counter opened at 9am, I filed my application by about 10, and I was told I could collect my passport back at 3.30pm. I had to kill time till then. ( Wandering aimlessly in Malappuram was better than a bus journey to and fro) I had my breakfast, then went to an autowallah and asked him to take me to any cinema where a good movie was running. Unfortunately (again!), there was only one where a morning show was there. The movie was “Malabar Wedding”. I hadn’t even heard of it until then. As my luck would always have it, the movie was a bore, except for a few scenes which were humorous. There were like 10 people in the entire theater.

It was about 2pm now. I went back and waited in the passport office. By 4, I was back in the return bus. Later that day, I couldn’t sleep on my back, nor could I stand up. My buttocks hurt because of 12 hours of journey in the last two days. My feet hurt because of hours of standing in the queue. But, as a consolation, I got my passport corrected.

I’m not frustrated by the whole incident. I think I have found an equilibrium with the whole trouble-seeking phenomena. Nowadays, I just blog about the trouble I faced, with an air of a connoisseur carelessly using French terms to philosophize. Sigh! That’s life!

Too many drafts of late. I’m never finding enough time to finish those and post them here. Sigh!

I went to Palakkad taking a week off last week. Needless to say, I found myself in trouble again. This knotty situation was all about “the knot”.
The knot is a physical tying of a knot which they say is metaphor for the knot or binding of the lives of two people, the man and his wife (For female chauvinists, the woman and her poor “Mr. bechara” husband), but it actually is a rather knotty problem — from then on, you need to have a lot of discipline and responsibilities. So, I reached my home on the fine morning of Friday, a bit soaked in the drizzle. I had my morning chores, which I couldn’t finish off in the train. Then I had my breakfast with my mother. It was then that the lightning struck from the skies, right on to my head. My mom said some distant relative had come with a marriage proposal of some distant relative of hers. So it was twice the distance!
The conversation went like this:
Mother: I’ve started checking your horoscope. It is very difficult to find a girl from our community and with good family background, and for you two to like each other.
Me: NO! No No No… Don’t start it.
Mother: You are 24 years old.
Me: You know, it is good to hear someone say I’m getting old, for a change. But not in this matter.
Mother: I’m not asking you to marry immediately. It will take about a year to find the right girl…
Me: I have aspirations right now; you know that. I want to study further. I don’t want to marry until I’m 27-28.
Mother(As if she didn’t hear what I said): …then you can get engaged and wait for another year if you want.
Me: You can do whatever you want with the horoscope. But I will reject it outright if you show me some alliance before I’m 27.
Mother: As a matter of fact, there is a proposal now.
Me: WHAT?
Mother: You know Annam (She was the distant relative), don’t you? I’d met her in Chelakkara when she asked me if I started looking for alliances. I just nodded. Yesterday, she met your aunt and complained to her that I was not interested in the alliance.
Me: Great! So now everyone knows there is a proposal coming in!
Mother: Look, In this case we don’t have to worry about the family. They are known ones. We just have to match the horoscopes, and then it’s up to you two to talk and decide if you like each other.
Me: I don’t want to get married now.
Mother: Don’t worry. I won’t ask you to get married soon.
Me: I don’t want to get married now.
Mother: You can get engaged if you like each other and then wait for a year.
Me: Sigh! I don’t want to get married now.I went to my grandmother’s house. We had the first death anniversary rituals of my grandfather. It got over by noon.

When the Vadhyar (the priest who presides over the ritual) was having his lunch, he asked for more rice, “Koncham annam kondu vaango”(”Annam” also means rice). On hearing the word “Annam” I nervously looked around. I saw an evil grin on my aunt’s face as she looked at me. After having a heavy lunch, it was time for a post-lunch family gathering. My mother’s siblings and their family were present. My uncle and family had come from US.

I somehow always liked small gatherings like this. I always enjoyed talking to my aunt because she was the only person who was more talkative than me.

So there I was, tired after gobbling up lots of food. When I saw the evil grin in my aunt’s face again, I sensed it was coming.

Aunt: I heard you are getting married.
Me: O really? I didn’t hear any such news.
Aunt: It’s about time you got married.
Me: No. I’m only 24.
Aunt: It is good for you. You won’t have to struggle with bachelor life anymore.
Me: That is true, but I’m just not ready.
Aunt: Come on. She is a very nice girl. And it is our family.
Me: Yeah, right. Something like my grandma’s cousin’s son-in-law’s sister’s daughter is family. Besides, you haven’t even seen her to say she is a nice girl.
Aunt: So we will be back in India again in an year.
Me: Shut up, okay? What the hell is this pulling-legs for?
Aunt: Just some after-lunch entertainment.
Me: Right. I’M THE VICTIM.

After some emotional blackmail (I finally got my chance to get even with my mother), my mom agreed that she will just match our horoscopes for the sake of being courteous with her “distant relative”.
I was so relieved on having escaped from the knot (for the time being) when another less lethal issue came. This too was about “tying the knot”.
My brother came to me asking me to teach him how to tie a tie.
I went on, “Watch carefully. The perfect Windsor is an art…”