Pensieve 2.0

For records, this post is delayed by at least 20 days. Talk about being lazy!!! Sigh!

It is a magic held by any undergraduate college. When you visit your alma mater, you cannot but have that heightened feeling of nostalgia.

I went to the college where I learned so many lessons of life, the most important one being how to live. I passed out of college (luckily, never “passed out” in college) in 2004. That’s more than 3 years now, so there were only two people in the college who I knew personally (Or, better to say non-academically) - Dhanaraj, once my senior, now a faculty, and Paro, who’s a student there. Well. I met another guy I knew - Ravi. I was perplexed, because it was a canonical impossibility, but he clarified that he had a back paper in final year, and was still in campus because of that.

Oh…the back papers. I remember I had escaped narrowly in a couple of my courses - all those ones without any mathematical problems - Computer Organization and Architecture, Digital MOS etc.
So this was more like a professional visit, (I’ll disclose the reasons, if fate permits, at a later time) but I still couldn’t resist a stroll around the hostel area, and around the library, computer center and DB.

One thing I noticed was that NITC hadn’t changed as much as I thought. The impression I had in my mind, after the news given by some fellows, was exaggerated. It was a welcome sight. There were a couple of new disciplines, a few new buildings, a few modified ones, and everything else was more or less intact. As I strolled around, old events kept flashing in my mind. I’ll try to reproduce them here. It’ll at least make this post more readable.

As I entered, I saw the gates which were not there when I was in my final year. (I had seen the pictures from Ajith’s blog though) Inside, the Rajpath looked the same, except for the fact that it was well paved now.

 The Rajpath…with a new look

It was a Sunday evening in August. We were returning to campus after a weekend visit to our respective homes. The pavements were so slippery with moss that people seldom walked on them. However, Antony was not among those faint at heart. I warned him, “Don’t walk on the pavement. You’ll slip”. He shoved off my warning with an air of nothing-can-happen-to-me. 5 seconds later, he fell on his ass.

Back in hostel, the others were narrating this incident to Dinesh, when he told, “He seems to have a black tongue. Two days back, the same thing happened to me, and 5 seconds before my fall, Deepak told me that I will slip.”

I got infuriated, “Come on, man. You fell because it was slippery, not because I said it was slippery. Grow up, man.”

I saw the new Central Computer Center building. Again, I had been misinformed that they had built it on the basketball court. I used to think what a pity it was, because the court was close to my heart (or something close to that) as I used to play basketball (or something close to that) every day (or something close to everyday). But whoever said that, was wrong. The basketball court was in tact. However, to my alarm, I saw buildings coming up in the football ground. Where will they have the Monsoon cup from now?

FBG…Triangular Notice Board….gone…all gone

As I went through the Main Building, I was in for another shock. The Triangular Notice Board was gone! It was where we all used to vent out our feelings.

Monsoon Cup 2003.
Badshaz (Used to call ourselves “Bad”shaz, for an air of superiority) were the reigning kings. Just on the eve of the kickoff, we stuck one poster on the triangular notice board.

First year - Semifinalists
Second year - Runners up
Third year - Winners
Fourth year - We need competition!

February 15th 2001
The day after Valentine’s day.
A poster read:

Henceforth, we will mourn every February 15th as the Broken Hearts’ Day. This day will be dedicated to all those hapless souls who no girl cares about.

I went to the department, met a few professors and then, Dhanaraj. We had a lengthy chat, which was mostly enlightening for me. I learnt that Papachan and Mamachan were still open. It was another wrong tidings given by someone that Papachan and Mamachan were closed because of bad business as all the back gates from college were sealed now. Also, someone had told me that the Kattangal economy had crashed due to the sealing of the gates near the D Hostel, which meant that guys had to go all the way to the front entrance and come back to go to Kattangal. But living up to the true NITC spirit, they are still taking the pains to go that extra mile. That means that there are as many motorcycles now as there were bicycles at my time and as many cars now as there were motorcycles at my time.

As usual, we had bunked our 9 am class and sitting in Mamachan having breakfast. We were having a heated argument. (For those who don’t know, Papachan, Mamachan and Chechi were the local hotels)
KK: Papachan is the best. The food is so delicious.
Me: Chechi is better than that. The food is incomparably good.
KK: But Chechi is not clean. Nobody can beat Papachan at that.
Me: Papachan will take a lifetime to bring you food after you order. You’ll die of hunger by the time he brings food.
KK: Grrr..
Me: Double Grrr…

Ragam 2000
Mock Press competition was under way. The guy was enacting Jackie Chan.
Guy from audience: What is your purpose of visit?
Jackie Chan: To visit Papa-chan and Mama-chan.
(Although, I felt that this question was a pre-planned one, the answer still was amusing.)

I went running after my purpose of visit, which took almost till lunch time.
Had lunch from canteen, since I didn’t feel like walking to Papachan, with my heavy laptop.
After my lunch, I decided to take a stroll. The first place that came to my mind was D Hostel - The lair of the famed D-Tops, and of course the Wallstreetguys (Contrary to popular belief, the name has nothing to do with Wallstreet, nor is it related in any way to economics!)
The hostels were changed, but D Hostel was in tact, although it had lost it’s trademark dark-red colored walls. I sat below the mango tree outside for quite some time, relishing my moments there. I went in to visit my room. It was locked.
Outside, the 4’s Arena ground was still there, with all the nets and all. 4’s Arena was a kind of mini-soccer, played with 4 on each side, and slightly modified rules.

4’s Arena Final
Fierce match. Rain-soaked. (And I think it was floodlit) I was watching that from behind a goal post. That was my first mistake. I forced myself to the forefront of hundreds of viewers. That was my second mistake. I was directly in line of Sameer’s shot. That was my third and final mistake.
Since this was a small field, it was more like Table Tennis; you needed to have a good reflex. Sameer mishit his shot. The ball was above the bar by a good 1 foot and it was coming straight at me. I was not fast enough. The ball hit directly in my abdomen. I had this burning sensation in my stomach for the next 3 hours. My T-shirt carried a patch of hexagons and pentagons for the rest of its life.

I then went to MC, which brought out another nostalgic feeling of ordering Bread Pakoda and Tea at midnight. Now that I check my camera, I realise that I actually forgot to snap the MC. How could I do that?Anyway, I returned, tried to finish my business, but couldn’t, so I went back to city, came back the next day and finished my business. By evening, I was back in Palakkad, mission accomplished, and with a truckload of renewed memories.

Disclaimer:
1. I am not trying to be patriotic here.
2. I am not trying to preach here.
3. All I’m trying to do here is to be honest.

I saw “Chak De India” yesterday. Too late to write about a movie which was released almost a month ago, you may say. But who said I’m going to write only about the movie? This post is about some of my musings after watching the movie.

The movie kept intruding into my thoughts for quite some time after I finished watching it, not allowing me to think clearly about anything else. This has happened so many times before, whenever I watched a movie which was educating or expressing. Entertaining movies, even when its storyline remains in memory, won’t haunt me like the other two. Haunt…it is literally the word which best expresses my feeling after watching the movie.

“Chak de” is the typical sports movie which is completely predictable, has several moments of adrelanin rush and where underdogs come out big. But more than that, it mentions (sometimes highlighting, sometimes as passing comments) several shortcomings of the wonder that is India, starting from the suppression of women, to the tepid acceptance of the people from peninsular India and the North East, to the media playing the devil and ruining one man’s life.

Two initial scenes struck a chord for me:
1. The scene where the North-Eastern girls, Mary and Molly ask “Does it ever feel good to live as guests in one’s own country?”
2. The scene where the guy comments that Tamil and Telugu are the same.

(RNI) RESIDENT NON-INDIANS
Now, feeling alienated in a place where you have spent your entire life, is not new to me. I am an Iyer, a person of Tamil ethnicity, but nevertheless a Keralite.
We are a small community of Tamil-speaking people who have been in Kerala for generations. (Like… from my great-great-great-great-great grandfather.)
We have been in Kerala our entire life, we have learnt Malayalam, we follow the culture of Kerala. We are in most rights Malayalees, with some added culture and customs of Tamil.
Yet we are neither accepted as Keralites in Kerala, nor as Tamilians in Tamil Nadu.
My Malayalee “friend” (or is he, really?) calls us “Paandi” (A not-so-nice term for a Tamilian), and say we don’t belong there. I can speak and write better Malayalam than him. I’ve often found it amusing when a shopkeeper tries to communicate with us in half-Tamil, even if we talk to him in fluent Malayalam, as if we didn’t know that language well.
Tamilians often make fun of the corrupted Tamil which we speak at home.
Some dudes/dudettes from our community call themselves KBCT (”Kerala Born Confused Tamilian” after “American Born Confused Desi”) just to show off that they are cool. (Or is it “kewl”?)

LIKE PEAS AND CARROTS
About the ignorance of North Indians about anything south, I guess the ignorance is mutual. We too don’t know much about North, except perhaps from the history books. But knowledge is not the factor here. You can get the knowledge any time. Many North Indians look at us with a kind of fascination as if we are some exotic people. I think this mostly is a resultant of the difficulty of South Indians to talk Hindi properly, which prevents a Northie and a Southie from mingling as much as two Northies do.

The casual questions that my colleagues ask me mostly pertain to:
1. How Kerala has a lot of Christian population
2. How come I don’t eat meat. They thought all Keralites were non-vegetarians.
3. A fascinated musing on the high literacy rate of Kerala.
4. Making fun of the heavily accented English of most Mallus.
5. Whether I know how to climb coconut trees (Duh!)

I myself have asked questions to Northies which might have sounded really stupid to them. I’m not blaming anyone here. I’m just wondering, and marveling at the sheer complexity of the Indian society. Like peas and carrots, as Forrest Gump says. They really go together well, but not quite.

I learned the what and why of “Unity in diversity” in India in my history lessons. But I still don’t know the answer to the How! That’s why India is a miracle to me. All Indians are bonded in the eyes of an outsider, albeit being a very loose one, but inside, it’s just a mob.

PATRIOTIC JUNTA
Few comments I heard from some friends and the media about the movie, almost made me laugh. The media and the vast majority of youngsters are just as predictable as the movie. For some, it was a movie that every patriotic Indian should watch. But for others, it was a movie made with the exact ingredients of a money-making movie. There was little or no third opinion.
These are the same people who have debates about India over a cup of coffee.
They can be broadly classified into two. One group, where people feel immensely proud to be an Indian, and show that only by sending SMS/Forwards which ask you to forward this to 10 people if you are a “true” Indian, blogging and proclaiming that you should watch this movie if you are a “true” Indian. I was one among them, posting once about a youtube video right here in this blog. I have moved on realizing that knowing your India is not enough, you should move your India forward.

The other group, think that India is going to the gutters, and there is no way they can stop it. So they should also live their life in the little time India has left to stay out of the gutters. Who the hell cares about India? They care only about themselves. I don’t even want to talk about this group. The reason is not their selfishness, but rather their pessimism about India.

Still, I wonder whether a patriot is someone who watches/reads about and relishes some patriotic deed done by characters in a movie.
I read a review which said that Chak de is a must watch for every patriotic Indian. What the hell does that exactly mean? How does a binary deed, that either you watched a movie or didn’t, dictate your Indianness?
While I completely agree that Chak de, or Rang De Basanti for that matter, will invigorate the love for your country in you, be honest in telling me how long does that vigor stand? One month? Or maybe two… Then after a hiatus, someone else again makes another movie, and again another round of discussions, blogs etc. go on babbling about how proud they are to be Indian.
I’m not blaming their pride. I’m blaming the ephemeral nature of their pride, which stays only in their words, and not their deeds.

People will now counter saying that this is as patriotic as a civilian can get. We can never be as good a fighter as those great people who took beatings and those who died for our country. But I’m not talking about fighting against corruption, black money and blah blah here. Those are strenuous territories to tackle. Rather, do something at the grassroots. There are much easier things that you…me…we can do, and be patriotic. A patriot (and this is not a wordweb definition) is someone who does something good for the country, or his society. And sending SMS/Forwards is not doing any good.

We can keep our surroundings, if not our city, clean. Even if it is not clean, don’t mess it up further, uttering that old engineer guy’s seemingly bright phrase, “infinity plus one is still infinity”. You can be the lone good guy in traffic without breaking traffic rules, even if it means you are taking more time to travel. A single person army cannot improve things by following rules. But do you know what it does? It will give you a sense of satisfaction that even if you’re not doing something great, you’re not worsening the situation. Does it do any good? Yes it does. Humans have this amazing nature of imitating others. After all, we were evolved from monkeys. What you do, your friends (whatever meager fraction it is) may start doing tomorrow, their friends on the day after that.

People who do these and more, are the everyday patriots. We have a fire inside us. We just have to sustain it with splinters. I can also say that you will get occasional fuel from movies.
All I wanted to convey here is that remember, talk your talk, and work your work in your India every day, instead of remembering only when “patriotic” films are released.
Now for the title. Apart from being a pun, I meant that we should chuck out our bullshitting, our bland talks and do something worthwhile, for our country. However minuscule it is, doesn’t matter. And if you got it inside you, go for better deeds.

JUST DO IT, INDIA

PS: Oh, and the movie… It’s good. Go watch it.

Whenever I start posting nowadays, I’m reminded of my friend K who was a king of sleeping in class.
There was one incident in college that is so mirthful that even today my ribs will be on the verge of cracking due to uncontrollable laughter, when I think of it.

In a particular lecture, K, being one who loved feigning attentiveness, was in the front row, center. I was somewhere in the second row in a corner. (because I didn’t get a seat in the prestigious LLB; (League of Last Benchers) I was too late) Midway through the class, I noticed that K was sleeping with his mouth open. (That too in the front row). It was amusing the way his head was bobbing, his hooked nose drawing doodles in thin air. After a few moments, gravity got the better of his subconscious head, and his head meandered too far to the front. He woke up, startled by the sudden jerk of his head. Then, to hide his embarrassment, he started making some fake calculations in air using his index finger. This was followed by an expression of comprehension of some higher realms of the concept being explained on the blackboard.
But before I could blink my eye, he was back into his slumber; his index finger had stopped in mid-calculation and was up in the air, pointing towards the blackboard. His head was bobbing back and forth once again. An uncontrollable fit of laughter erupted inside me. I tried to curb it, but hey, it was uncontrollable, wasn’t it? It resulted in a weird noise, which was more like an elephant’s trumpeting.
“Yes? You have any questions?”, asked the lecturer.
“No sir. It’s just my..er…cold.”

You might be asking what this has to do with my blog. My blog is quite like K, don’t you think? I go into hibernation, then suddenly a babble comes out as a post, then I again go into hibernation.

My favorite author and the boy who lived turn another year old today.

Jo is now 42, and Harry turns 27.

I hope Jo has a great year ahead with her family.
Keep writing with that amazing quill of yours!

*SPOILER WARNING*
Courtesy: Blogging Harry Potter

Many of us found the epilogue of Deathly Hallows too vague and cheesy. It’s time for those of us to rejoice.
JK Rowling has revealed bits and pieces of info on the survivors of Deathly Hallows in an interview on the TODAY show.

Click on the link above to read those; be wary that it reveals some of the plot of Deathly Hallows.
She also said that she will probably write an encyclopedia with more details about her characters and the wizarding world.

The encyclopedia would include back stories of some characters which she had originally written, but had to cut down in the final manuscript (She once said, “I’ve said before that Dean Thomas had a much more interesting history than ever appeared in the books”).
Rowling also reveals the identity of the “reprieved” character in Deathly Hallows.

I’m so excited about the book right now. Rowling said she would take a break for some time before compiling the Encyclopedia. Royalties of the book will go to Comic Relief as it did for “Quidditch through the ages” and “Fantastic Beasts and where to find them”

This time, two dames - Paro and Maneesha - have tagged me separately with the same topic, in hope that I will get around my writer’s block. But little do they understand that it is not writer’s block, it is rather a blocked writer. (Courtesy: Sanjiv)

Now to the topic of the tag. No points for guessing what the tag is about. It is the one which is doing rounds in the world of blogs of late - 8 Weird things. Now I had already written another tag with 6 weird things. It really feels weird to write about more weird things. Can’t the guys who create these tags be a bit creative, rather than giving old wine in a new bottle?

Anyway, here are the rules:
1. Write 8 random/weird/habitual/crazy facts. (Why is it 8? Shouldn’t that be random too?)
2. Tag 8 other angels, and force them to stop doing productive work and start tagging in their blogs. In short, stop them from having the devil’s workshop. (I mean “an idle mind”)
3. Bully, Coax, Plead, Cry, Whine or Beat the pulp out of them so that they take up this tag.

Without much ado, here I go.

1. I encounter nail-biting moments way too often. I bite my nails whenever my hands are idle. It’s habitual, but I think it is getting better - Now I’ve learned how to file my nails using my teeth, so they never look like bitten nails.
On a serious note, please don’t hesitate to shake hands whenever we meet. I really don’t bite nails as much as posted above. That was just for the effect.

2. I have attempted going to gym 3 times, and stopped within 2 weeks every time. Lack of determination! I’m sure it is! First in my college. Second in my company. The third time, I paid to go to a gym outside, thinking that spending some money for this will drive some sense into my skull. But I ended up wasting my money. Now I can’t pay 8 grand and go to Fitness One. What if I waste that also?

3. I have almost photographic memory of names (and faces, if they haven’t changed drastically from the time I last met them.) That means I can recall their name when I see a familiar face.
I am decent enough in remembering numbers (Telephone numbers and so on)
I am really bad in remembering dates. I scored my least amount of marks in History in my 10th when every one else was scoring cent percent. Two weeks back, my friend told me that we had completed 3 years of employment (we joined on the same day). I asked him, “Really?”

4. I had chats in GTalk with at least 6 people on 20th Friday, which consistently started with the following conversation. (It started to freak me out after the 4th person)

Person: for?
Me: Harry Potter
Person: ok!
Person:

The reason was that I had given my status message as “One more day!”

The freak show continued on 23rd Monday, when I had my status as “Falling into a state of depression ”

At least 4 people asked me “why depression?” (I mean the exact same phrase). I replied, “Last HP book!”

5. I and my brother used to fight a lot over silly things when we were in school. Fights meaning fist fights. We had managed to hurt each other several times. I yanked his head once during a fight, resulting in a sprain on his neck which he carried for one week.
He has stabbed my palm with a pencil once and the lead got lodged into my palm. Had to go to the doctor to take it out. My right palm still carries the relic of that. The list goes on. My mom used to cry that none of her friends’ children were as violent as we were and that we had a lot to learn from them. We used to respond that they should come to us and learn how to fight properly. Mind you, the fights were always for the silliest of the reasons.
As time went by, it became wise for me not to engage in a duel with him, because he grew twice as fat and strong as me.

6. I rarely wear shirts. I feel more comfortable in T-shirts and polo shirts. I normally wear only 2-3 shirts which I’m extremely fond of. That too will generally be on top of a T-shirt and unbuttoned. The last time I remember wearing a formal dress was 2 years back when I attended the interview for my current company.

7. I have this annoying (to the recipient) habit of correcting the pronunciation of words spoken by my friends/family at the most awkward moments. Some of my most favorite corrections are:
- tuition is pronounced “tooishun” not “tiushun”
- queen is pronounced “kween” not “kiun”
- coffee is pronounced “coffee”. The o should sound like “aw” and not like “ow” (Typical of Mallus)
- elite. It is not “elaite”..It is “eleet”

8. The proven method for me to fall asleep is read a book while lying in my bed. I will fall asleep within two pages of reading while I’m lying prone or on my back, no matter how interesting the book is. Even Harry Potter has not been able to be an exception to this.

Okay. That makes it 8. Now the tough part. Tagging 8 people.

- Upasna - I want a change for a change. Write something funny.
- Dev - He claims he doesn’t even log into Blogger for months. My attempt to break that claim.
- Kandy - Let’s see the dark side of the cool guy… my classmate in engineering.
- Sanjuz - Gathering dust now. I won’t let your irrational thoughts rest in peace so soon. GET UP!
- Max - Another one gathering dust. All wasted writing skills.
- Dharmu - Recent addition to my blogroll. Bindaas girl, from whatever little I know.
- 2 Open - All those who felt dejected that I let you down by not tagging you, grab your chance. (Pssst… I’m sure no one will take this )

I’m falling into a state of depression. I can’t believe the last book of the Harry Potter series is out and I have already read it. I just can’t take the idea that I won’t get the chance to wait eagerly for the next book.

Being a faithful follower of Harry Potter, I won’t spoil any of the plots of the book. I thought I’d just mention how my day went on 21st Saturday.

I pre-ordered the book in the bookstore nearest to my apartment, obviously to reach home as soon as I bought the book and start reading the book. Unfortunately, the earliest opening time anywhere in Bangalore was 6 am. And, to my dismay, Crossword Indiranagar, where I was to get my book was to open only at 7 am.

So, me and KP decided to go at 6.15 am and wait outside the store. The others were not interested in Harry Potter. We left them to their pathetic life devoid of imaginations and fantasies. (Take no offence if you are reading this, guys, but your life is really pathetic, trying to spoil the plot to us with snapshots from a traitor which came on the internet on the previous day, and jeering and calling a spell casting as a mere stick rotation)
But typical to the nature of bachelors, we started off 15 minutes late. I was wearing my favorite Harry Potter T-shirt and shorts. By the time I parked my car near the shop, it was already crowded, with a queue of 30+ people. I felt a tiny bit of guilt for not showing my fidelity. I should have reached at 6. I should have been in the front.

That feeling faded away soon when the shop was opened and the first group of about 10 customers were let in. From then, it was a feeling of longing. A part of my brain even thought about gatecrashing, throwing the receipt to the counter, taking a book and running out. We couldn’t get in for another long 30 minutes.

I got the book, took a bookmark from the counter and started reading the book on the scene(until KP collected his copy and came outside). I was engrossed wholly in the book even as I walked towards my car. I heard someone call out, “Take your time, dude. You have all day to finish the book.” I grinned at the group of people sitting near the pavement, waiting for their turn to get inside.

We drove back, I parked my car in the most lopsided manner that could be possible and rushed to my apartment. I continued from where I had stopped. By 10.30, I had finished about 100 pages. KP, being a voracious reader, was thrice as fast as me. I skipped breakfast, and went for lunch only because I was really hungry. I even considered taking the book to the restaurant to read it while having dinner. I had already lost about 4 hours because I fell asleep afternoon after having a heavy lunch. Throughout the day, I was interrupted (to my great annoyance) by a number of phone calls. I never received so many phone calls in one day. It had to be this day! Sigh!

I finished the book at around 2am, had a quick browsing of the internet and started my reread. I won’t tell anything about the story, but I’d say this is one of the best books in the series ever. I’d say third best after GoF and PoA. The book is really fast-paced, and we are in the thick of the action from the first chapter itself.

Ecstatic though I am after knowing (or living, rather) how the saga ends, I also feel strangely depressed. It is as if someone has abandoned me in the muggle world and I don’t know the way to get back. My only hope remains in the two films that are remaining. Nevertheless, I can only feel grateful that I lived in the times of Harry Potter and Joanne Rowling.

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…”

Thursday evening was pleasant. I was back from office early that day and was planning on going out. I decided to take an auto. I walked the small distance through the alley where my apartment was. My muscles were spraining; I should walk more often. I reached the main road. Oddly enough, it wore a deserted look. The velvety brown of the evening sky was already fading into the blue silhouette of the moonlight.
There were no vehicles or human beings, or even dogs (There will at least be 3 stray dogs per street in Bangalore) in sight.
‘Oh dear, will I have to walk till Airport Road now to get an auto?‘, my lazy legs complained and my mind translated it to English.
I uttered a non-verbal spell (well! I didn’t utter in strict sense since it was non-verbal) to summon an auto. Even I was surprised to see an auto coming almost immediately behind me. I waved to him to stop. He didn’t seem to notice and passed me. Then the auto screeched to a halt about 10 feet ahead. I ran towards the auto.
The driver had a frightened look in his face. He looked at me, then looked down towards my feet, then again looked at me.
I too looked at my own feet, just by instinct. What was wrong with my feet?
‘Elli hogbeku saar?’, (Where to, sir?) he asked, anxiety resonating in every syllable that came out.
‘KR Puram’
‘I’ll go through the main road, is it okay?’
‘Okay’, I replied, not understanding what he meant by the last statement. I didn’t know of any shortcuts or alleys to my destination.

I got in and he started moving. He didn’t speak anything till we reached 100ft road. The looming silence instantly changed into ear-shattering din. I heard something like a gasp of relief coming from the driver.

He turned his head when we had stopped at a traffic signal and asked something like, “Kannada maathadubeka?” (Do you speak Kannada?)
I understood what he meant and replied, “Kannada gothilla” (I don’t know Kannada)
“Hindi?”
“Oh. Hindi is okay”
[ Rest of the conversation was in Hindi, mostly a monologue. Translated to English. Everything in italics is whatever I thought, but didn't say. ]
Driver: I almost escaped from that ghost today.
Me: What?
Driver: A ghost. She asked me for a ride. Said she will pay 200 rupees. Scared the shit out of me.
Me: *Oh really?*
Driver: She came in a car, said she wanted to go to ***** (I didn’t get the name of the place when he said it.) Offered to pay anything. These lady ghosts…once they enter our body, they will never leave us. Ask us all sorts of things. They won’t go until you die. You will be doomed.
Me: *Duh*
Driver: I just mustered enough courage to say No and get the hell out of there.
Me: Oh. Was that why you were driving so fast?
Driver: Obviously….She wanted to take me to a deserted place and possess me. After that, I would have no control over myself. I’ll lose my family and kids and will have to go after her. She won’t let me enjoy family life as I would have to satisfy her always.
Me: *[Evil grin]* You looked at my feet.
Driver: I was checking whether you were human; whether you had feet.
Me: Hehe. *Muhahahaha*
Driver: No sir, I was so freaked out. Really. In my village, we take special amulets and all from the priest. We are safe there. But there are no such safety precautions here in city.
Me: *All ghosts migrated to cities now. Yeah, I can see*
Driver: I think she was a Muslim ghost. That makes it even more difficult.
Me: Why so?
Driver: Because Hindu mantras won’t work on Muslim ghosts. You need Muslim mantras from Quran for those.
Me: *Boy! This is getting better and better*
Me: What did she look like? Was she wearing white saree?
Driver: I don’t know. She came in a car. Her hair was loose and wildly bushy. Her face was white.
Me: You mean fair skin?
Driver: No sir. It was white color. Like white paint was smeared. Only her eyes were brown.
Me: And she was driving a car.
Driver: Yes.

I suddenly remembered the ghost from the movie “The Ring”. Then the thought suddenly hit me squarely in my mind..like a 10-pin strike. It might just have been some ordinary lady who was careless enough to go out without removing her facial. The poor lady was mistaken for a ghost! Imagine her perplexed face when the driver had sped from her at breakneck speed!
Hell of a ghost story for me!!

---

I didn’t speak much for the rest of the journey. He was saying something, I just kept replying “Mm.Hmm”,”I see” etc. idly without listening to what he was saying.

We reached my destination. I checked the meter and gave him the money.
“One and a half meter charge, sir”
*Bloody hell! This guy had the nerves to ask for more money even in this condition.*
I argued, “What is the extra half for? Your ghost story?”

What is love?
Love is a score of zero. It usually is in Tennis. But it happens in life too.

He fell in love with her at first sight. He didn’t know why.
Was it her beauty?
She was not very beautiful, so to speak. She was not too tall, had freckles, but had a very pleasant fair face and beautiful short hair.
Was it her attitude?
I just said it was love at first sight. He hadn’t even talked to her.
Was it some kind of crush/infatuation?
I think not. Because this was a different kind of feeling.
He always felt the electric shock passing through his spine and ensnaring his body whenever he saw her face.
He always blushed visibly whenever she looked at him.
He always saw her in his dreams everyday after he first saw her.

One day he came back from office, he was in cloud nine. I saw the twinkle in his eyes. He said she spoke to him for the first time.
I got excited and asked him about their conversation.
“Well…I was walking through the pavement when she came walking opposite to me. I moved aside and let her pass as it was a bit narrow. She looked at me and said “Thank you”. I saw her smile.”
“So?”
“So what? That was all.”
“Holy cow! You just had the most romantic conversation ever.”
“Really?”
“Yeah! Right! Get a grip, dude!”

The next day he came from office and claimed that she too seemed to be interested.
“I saw her blush when our eyes met.”
I said, “That might be because she already has a rosy cheek. Remember? She has freckles.
“Or you might have blushed so much that your eyes were covered with blood and you saw everything red.”
“Problem hai yaar. I’ve fallen in love with her.”
“Then why don’t you go and talk to her?”
“I’m afraid. I don’t even know her. She’s not even in my team. She just sits a few cubicles away from me. That’s all. What if she is not interested?”
“You won’t know until you ask.”
“She always goes with her girl gang. I never get her alone.”
“Look. You have to find a way yourself.”
“This is not college. This is office for God’s sake. I’m afraid of the repercussions.”
“Is she showing some signs of interest? Or does she know at all?”
“I think she’s interested. She kept looking at me at the cafe during lunch today, but I can’t be sure, as there are hundreds of people in cafe during lunch time and she might be looking at anybody.”
“You better forget about her. You are such a coward.”
“I don’t deny that. But I’m happy just by looking at her.”

He doesn’t follow her, because he doesn’t believe in those concepts he sees in movies.
Moreover, he doesn’t want to force love out of her.
How the hell will he get to talk to her?
He doesn’t care. All he cares about is that he loves her. Or he thinks he does.
This really is perplexing because he never was shy towards girls or had any problem in talking with girls.

He is still in the starting line of the race with time. But he says races like this are not meant to be won.
Is this really love? I’m at a loss to answer.