Scrambled Eggs

From yesterday, I've been in a rather nostalgic mood. Watching old ads such as "I'm a complan boy!" and "Sottu Neelam doi" and "Hamaaara bajaj" and "Vicco turmeric! Ille cosmetic! Vicco turmeric ayurvedic cream!" and stuff. 

Everbody, I think, has something nice to think back, to talk about the times that they grew up in. And maybe they all think they're lucky. No exception here. Not only do I think that I was lucky to be born at the decade, but at that specific year. Nice times. 

Remembered.. Premier Padmini's, and Ambassadors and Maruti's... thats all there were. And it was an awesome time. And Tata sierras were uber-cool. They had motorized windows! TVs didnt stick to the wall, and the longer they were, the more successful you were in society. Panner soda and rasna. Baskin Robbins? Haagen dasz? Paal ice. Which one thatha would buy for us and tell us not to tell the other thatha cos he wasn't convinced of their hygiene. 

An awesome, awesome feeling, when Champak or Tinkle digest or Tinkle came. Growing up with grandparents in the house, both of whom loved to read, and extremely aware. Growing up watching He-man, Alif Laila, Jungle Book and Pingu..How many people came to visit my grandparents and I was introduced to them, a small boy in a singlet and shorts, combed hair and vibhoothi. Outings with parents, where all three of us could sit in line in front of the car.

Route No 2A, 2B: Some memorable friendships.. on school vans. Two parts of the school van.. Those who got to sit in front were the creme de la creme. The people in the back were the also rans. I sat up front. Right on the engine cover, between the driver anna and the passenger seat. ON the engine cover, and performed gear-changing and engine-starting duties. Ultimate privelege. Periyasamy, the driver's name was... still works there I think. His meesai's become all white though.. from all black. And the loyalty we had to our vans and our driver annas. Racing with other van numbers... and screaming when we won, and booing the other vans. 

Growing up on a diet of purely carnatic music. And then listening to AR Rahman for the first time. On a trip with friends of my cousin's family. "Hello Mister Edhirkatchi". They had two daughters, and the younger one wore shockingly short shorts and shades. She laughed at every joke I made, and was what I thought, very carefree. Open hair, and very very fair. Like one of those cinema heroines. High point in that day was getting photographed next to her or something like that. Quite a lot older, but I think my first crush, before I became a lot more aware and my "Girls are a bother" phase came on and nipped things in the bud. She's got married recently, and I couldnt even make it to her wedding. Someone told me she was asking why I wasn't there. 

Arranged marriages were non-existent to me. I assumed my parents also married after meeting and singing duet songs like in the movies. 

Being lazy, and asking for things without feeling guilty for asking older people to do something you can get done with a lot less difficulty. Maybe all the older people were younger and healthier at that time. In fact, I remember, anybody(even distant family) who came to see me, would take me down first main road for a walk, and buy me toys or sweets. Throwing temper tantrums and getting stuff done. Always being the pampered one. Thatha saying I, and not someone else, was his favorite grandson. I liked how people loved my being able to have something to say about everything. Now when i meet some cousins who do that, I just find it irritating. 

My childhood was awesome. The nineties were an awesome time. I'm generation yex. (As in yex, oye and izad)

A week later..

..actually 10 days is more accurate, but "a week later" sounds more dramatic than "10 days later" I wonder if artistic license... would prefer i round off 10 days to a week or 2 weeks. Nevertheless, both sound equally dramatic and...

I digress. What I originally wanted to say was: Its been 10 days since I came back to Chennai, my malli-poo hometown which has now transformed into women wearing tight sleeveless tops, made up faces and perfume and everybodylooksgood. Irritating. Not everybodylooksgood, just the tight sleeveless tops and the hairdos and everybody acting like they've suddenly become the most beautiful women in the world. 

But not as irritating as the traffic here. Its all chaos, chaos and chaos. tight sleeveless tops and everybodylooksgood...at least, eye candy. Traffic.. Not so much. I'm afraid.. I've become the phoren-wala who returns from big cities and criticizes the hometown... I've become someone I despised. But I can't help but criticize the system, for it is a truly rubbish system.. just LOOK at the roads on a busy weekday morning. Hmmm.... 

Two wheelers: Screw all two wheelers.. Two wheelers are the epitome of mediocrity, the "two wheels are enough, who needs four" mentality. If you can afford it, buy four wheels. Else ride the bus.

Four wheelers: Stuff such as the Tata nano should be made illegal. Let everybody save up a little more money and get the Maruti 800. Nothing wrong with that one, I grew up with one. 

Driving tests: Stop handing out driving licenses to everybody. There's nothing to an Indian driving test: Get in the car, drive straight and use turn signals when the RTO tells you to stop. I could do that when i was 10. My parents didnt know, but I could. Make driving tests more complicated. Turns, slope-starts, all this should be included. Bloody hell, look at the babboons on the road driving..

Which reminds me: Ladies.. Call me sexist, but I'm sorry. You can't be allowed to drive unless you can do it properly. I mean, properly. When you understand that it is an art. When you begin to treat a car as a living thing, a human even. With feelings. Not just shove him/her it into overdrive at the first opportunity and wait till the engine gasps for breath and stalls before you shift down. As a corollary, women should be tested by proven heterosexual women before being issued licenses, because licenses now are being issued for having a magnificent pair of tits. Or just having tits. Darling, I'm sorry. The way you said "let it be, its parked properly only" when i parked obliquely... that's what prompted this paragraph. 

Hmm. Now....where do I apply for transport ministership... ?

Okay, Maybe That Was a Lie..But that's all! I Promise!

because, my first post, is indeed, about Basin Bridge Jn. For lack of something better? You could say. Its been a while since I've been on a train, and train journeys are something that I'll always remember as something to look forward to, for some strange reason. Not the often cliched reasons of the swaying of the train or other stuff that's usually associated with trains..well, I don't know, really. Just that.. a train makes getting there an experience in itself.. that's unparalelled by any other means of transport. Except, of course, maybe driving.. because what do you have on ships.. there's water, loads of it, and that's all. Throw in some seasickness and you can't wait to get there. Air.. that's decidedly better than ships.. but again.. for example, one of the chief reasons I'm thinking twice about flying back home this winter is because of the arduous process of getting there. Anyway, dispensing with all that.. Basin Bridge Jn, if you have noticed, is the station, that's just before Chennai Central.. in fact, about a kilometre away. Reportedly, this is where trains are stopped and assigned platforms before being allowed to continuing to Central. Its when you see the board "Basin Bridge Junction" that the mixed feeling of disappointment that your holiday is over and the feeling of anticipation of things to come, like school starting again, begins to sink in. Its when the elders nod knowledgeably "Ah! Basin Bridge vandhacha? Innom 10 minutes le poidalam" and start getting ready to disembark. And the finality sets in.. along with that reassuring feeling of coming home at last, be it from ooruga or Agra.