I read a lot, so.. I have come across most cliched situations within the genres that I read, and some not so typical ones as well. And one of the most typical ones is the protagonist, male or female, pretty or handsome, egg shaped head or headless or whatever, is struck dumb. And belonging to the (I'd like to think) not so common species of men whose members have something to say in any given situation, I found that sort of a situation rather dubious. Well, not dubious, really, just hard to imagine. Until now.
A nice day actually, today, was warm by Russian-winter standards. The temperature was hovering around zero-ish. And I had some time between classes to scoot back to my room and grab a spot of lunch. So homeward bound, and I found assorted baggage just outside my room. With a "what the devil" on my lips I entered to encounter one of my neighbours asking for my help in moving those bags downstairs to the street. So carrying those bags, down we(my friends, him and I) went and to the street where we rather cleverly arranged the bags in an unobtrusive corner so as not to hamper anybody else's mobility. And as I stepped back to admire my handwork, this aforementioned neighbour proceeded to thrust some currency into my hands. And conversation proceeded so:
Me: Dude, What the..(vocabulary that'll make my parents wonder about their competence in raising me)?
Him: This is also work!
Me: If this was work, we wouldn't have done it, we did it because you needed help. Useless fellow!
Him: Dude, take it, please. My friend asked me to give you.
Me: No way, dude.
Him: Please! please dude, take it. please, please, please!!
Me: No way, I'm sorry.
And I walked away, crossed the road to join my friends who had rather cleverly run for it, seeing the situation. Entered the market opposite, and spent some time undercover. Then, crossed the road again to walk homeward, to observe him standing and waiting for an automobile of some sort to pick the assortment of luggage up. Asked him if the car was going to come soon, and he said it would be. Probably he was feeling like a spanner as well, and since we're neighbours (and guys, in fact), it'll all be forgotten. But as far as uncomfortable situations go, this must've been up there among the top, and my already low estimate of Malaysia as a country and its citizens has now dropped to below sea level.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Lonely at the bottom
Lonely Planet has decided, for some unfathomable reason, to list out the most hateful cities in the world. Chennai, my hometown, has been ranked 7th in the list.
What's most laughable is the reason that they give for its existence in the list: because it is "lacking Mumbai's prosperity, Delhi's history or Bengaluru's buzz".
Now, I'm sorry, but that is the most ridiculous thing that I've heard. That's like saying Idlis are a hateful food because they do not have the texture of the dosai, the flavour of the pongal or the simplicity of the upma.
Chennai is what it is, because it lacks the "prosperity" of the excrement covered slums of Mumbai publicized by Slumdog Millionaire, the "history" of India's first school sex scandal from Delhi, and the "buzz"-ing noises in everybody's head after the Shri Ram Sene are done with beating them up in Bangalore.
None of those cities are hateful, but they're not all milk and honey either. Like Chennai. Or the Lonely Planet author's hometown, somewhere in malaria infested Africa.
Sod off, Lonely Planet.
PS: Happy New year and all that.
What's most laughable is the reason that they give for its existence in the list: because it is "lacking Mumbai's prosperity, Delhi's history or Bengaluru's buzz".
Now, I'm sorry, but that is the most ridiculous thing that I've heard. That's like saying Idlis are a hateful food because they do not have the texture of the dosai, the flavour of the pongal or the simplicity of the upma.
Chennai is what it is, because it lacks the "prosperity" of the excrement covered slums of Mumbai publicized by Slumdog Millionaire, the "history" of India's first school sex scandal from Delhi, and the "buzz"-ing noises in everybody's head after the Shri Ram Sene are done with beating them up in Bangalore.
None of those cities are hateful, but they're not all milk and honey either. Like Chennai. Or the Lonely Planet author's hometown, somewhere in malaria infested Africa.
Sod off, Lonely Planet.
PS: Happy New year and all that.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
If
I saw you, that cold morning. And when I say cold, I mean bitterly, bitterly cold. You looked pretty agreeable to me, and I even liked the car that you were driving. And yet, when you pulled away from the crossing, I was describing you with some pretty fruity adjectives (to put it mildly), about you, your family, your ancestry and your anatomy. Maybe if it hadn't been so cold that day, I would have waited for you to pass, even though you are required to wait for pedestrians to walk on a zebra crossing. Maybe if it wasn't so slippery, I wouldn't have lost my temper so easily. Maybe you were running late for something. Maybe you're a nice person after all. Maybe if we had met in a pub, we might have even swapped life stories over a couple of drinks.
Maybe I will meet you later in life sometime. Highly unlikely that I'll recognize you though. Or you me.
Maybe I will meet you later in life sometime. Highly unlikely that I'll recognize you though. Or you me.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Rendezvous
She was 54. 25 years into her marriage, and it was by no means unhappy. Her husband had recently retired from work at a nationalized bank. They had three children, two daughters and one son. Her son was studying hotel management at Australia, and she knew (from the prospectus of the university) that he would get picked up soon by top international hotel chains and that's all she would see of him. Her older daughter had recently gotten an assignment in Bangalore, and everybody was thankful because everybody seemed to think that if you got an assignment in these times, it must be because the company wants to keep you. She was adjusting to Bangalore nicely, and was a wealth of information about how healthy the tomatoes in Bangalore were and about how the lemons were orange-sized. Her younger daughter was preparing for an entrance exam to enter business schools, but she wasn't doing much. It was obvious. She spent way too much time out at night, and then even more time on the Internet putting up pictures of her holding on to (She thought) rather shifty looking young men. Rather sombre thoughts, for when one was reading the cartoon page of Tughlak, and thinking of how inconvenient it was that the telephone was in their house-owner's name, and nobody could look them up if they wanted to, and how irritating it was that none of the cartoons were actually funny, when everything suddenly blacked out.
That's how he came to know her. He couldn't care less about her sons or her telephone bill, though. She was a statistic to him. And as he crossed his fingers and hoped she would be a good one, he looked at her chest, split wide open and holding no secrets from him. And heard himself say "Verify closed CP. Start Re-warming. Mari, put in a langenbeck there, lets check for oozes"
"Starting Re-warming, sir. 1:34 PM. CP time 54 minutes". And the lines on the monitor appeared, first illegible squiggles and then a reassuring, regular pattern. He heaved a sigh of relief and stepped back so his assistants could close her up.
That's how he came to know her. He couldn't care less about her sons or her telephone bill, though. She was a statistic to him. And as he crossed his fingers and hoped she would be a good one, he looked at her chest, split wide open and holding no secrets from him. And heard himself say "Verify closed CP. Start Re-warming. Mari, put in a langenbeck there, lets check for oozes"
"Starting Re-warming, sir. 1:34 PM. CP time 54 minutes". And the lines on the monitor appeared, first illegible squiggles and then a reassuring, regular pattern. He heaved a sigh of relief and stepped back so his assistants could close her up.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Time Lapse
"Time-lapse photography is a cinematography technique whereby each film frame is captured at a rate much slower than it will be played back. When replayed at normal speed, time appears to be moving faster and thus lapsing"
0 :
Its a she. Pretty baby born to rather ordinary looking parents, the paediatrician on duty took a picture of her on his mobile phone. The nurse on duty couldn't believe how delicate she looked and called her friends over from a different ward to come take a look.
10 :
She's the smartest and prettiest in her fifth standard classroom. All of her classmates' parents hate her for existing in the same world as their children, for exposing their inadequacies.
20:
She's in college now. Fresh out of her teens, confident in her posture and gait. Her very presence exudes confidence, and she has the adoration of boys, girls, lecturers, professors and lab assistants. One wonders which came first. She wants to achieve great heights in life and the world is her oyster.
30:
Its been a while since she got married. She chose a partner who would forever be obliged to her. He was in no way equal to her in any aspect. She married because her parents wanted her to. She's confident she doesn't need a man in her life, just a spineless worm she could bend to her will would do as a namesake. She'd been wrapping even the best looking men around her finger since she was a teenager. With this one, built like a kothavaranga, a face like a tomato cut with a blunt knife, and immensely grateful to her for marrying him, She foresaw no problem at all.
40:
She looks 30. She's a mother now, of a boy and then a girl. She's lost none of her ambitions, and is filled with a sense of purpose. Not of attending to her children or her husband. She believes she was born to do great things for the world, and takes great pride in her job. She dreams of climbing to the top of the corporate ladder, of attending meetings with world leaders, of having the power, the power to make the world rotate in the opposite direction, if she so wished.
50:
She looks 50. She still works for the same position, in the same company. Her face looks crisp, but her body is showing signs of her age. It pains her to retain her upright posture, and she begins to stoop, like the banana leaves at the entrance of the kalyana mandapam after the ceremony ends. She wonders if she has a significant role to play in the world, and often introspects on the decisions she made.
60:
She's been replaced at her job by a girl younger than her daughter, because she's qualified better and is willing to work for lesser money. Her daughter is not as stunningly pretty as her, but she's not too bad looking, and marries a smart and intelligent boy who is raking in the money. The vegetable husband and the smart groom get along brilliantly well, and the marriage is exorbitant and splendid. Subsequently, her son grows up and marries a rather plain looking, but intelligent girl who is suspiciously sweet to her.
70:
She thinks a lot about family, nowadays. About her grandchildren, and even about her husband. Annoyingly, he always finds something to occupy himself. Books, music or the club he goes to. She thinks back about her youth, her ambitions, and her life. She wonders if, at any point of time in her life, how would things have changed, if she hadn't been there. She's too afraid to conclude anything, and repeatedly pushes the insistent thought away from her. She talks a lot to herself, although she's not conscious of it. Just as well, her husband had long since become used to her ignoring him, and so had the children. They had constructed their lives around her, not harming the bubble she lived in. She talks to her children occasionally, when they call to speak to their father.
80:
Her husband passed away a few years since. She had come into quite an amount of money, money that her husband earned, saved away and had passed it on to her. She lives with her son for one half of the year, and her daughter for the other half. She spends most of the day reading books, or just staring into space and talking to herself. Her children and grandchildren had gotten used to her behaviour. They pretended she didn't exist(much like she had pretended her children and father didn't exist, She thought to herself). Conversation was rather perfunctory, except when her grandchildren asked about their grandfather whom they adored. She didn't know much about him herself, so she often improvised. She contradicted herself sometimes, but her grandchildren either didn't notice, or pretended not to. She sees pictures of children in different countries without clothes, food, and donates all of her husband's money, partially hoping that she was changing someone's life, but mostly hoping that her children would argue about it and some conversation would ensue. They don't.
87:
The universe relieves her of her doubt, her guilt and her loneliness.
0 :
Its a she. Pretty baby born to rather ordinary looking parents, the paediatrician on duty took a picture of her on his mobile phone. The nurse on duty couldn't believe how delicate she looked and called her friends over from a different ward to come take a look.
10 :
She's the smartest and prettiest in her fifth standard classroom. All of her classmates' parents hate her for existing in the same world as their children, for exposing their inadequacies.
20:
She's in college now. Fresh out of her teens, confident in her posture and gait. Her very presence exudes confidence, and she has the adoration of boys, girls, lecturers, professors and lab assistants. One wonders which came first. She wants to achieve great heights in life and the world is her oyster.
30:
Its been a while since she got married. She chose a partner who would forever be obliged to her. He was in no way equal to her in any aspect. She married because her parents wanted her to. She's confident she doesn't need a man in her life, just a spineless worm she could bend to her will would do as a namesake. She'd been wrapping even the best looking men around her finger since she was a teenager. With this one, built like a kothavaranga, a face like a tomato cut with a blunt knife, and immensely grateful to her for marrying him, She foresaw no problem at all.
40:
She looks 30. She's a mother now, of a boy and then a girl. She's lost none of her ambitions, and is filled with a sense of purpose. Not of attending to her children or her husband. She believes she was born to do great things for the world, and takes great pride in her job. She dreams of climbing to the top of the corporate ladder, of attending meetings with world leaders, of having the power, the power to make the world rotate in the opposite direction, if she so wished.
50:
She looks 50. She still works for the same position, in the same company. Her face looks crisp, but her body is showing signs of her age. It pains her to retain her upright posture, and she begins to stoop, like the banana leaves at the entrance of the kalyana mandapam after the ceremony ends. She wonders if she has a significant role to play in the world, and often introspects on the decisions she made.
60:
She's been replaced at her job by a girl younger than her daughter, because she's qualified better and is willing to work for lesser money. Her daughter is not as stunningly pretty as her, but she's not too bad looking, and marries a smart and intelligent boy who is raking in the money. The vegetable husband and the smart groom get along brilliantly well, and the marriage is exorbitant and splendid. Subsequently, her son grows up and marries a rather plain looking, but intelligent girl who is suspiciously sweet to her.
70:
She thinks a lot about family, nowadays. About her grandchildren, and even about her husband. Annoyingly, he always finds something to occupy himself. Books, music or the club he goes to. She thinks back about her youth, her ambitions, and her life. She wonders if, at any point of time in her life, how would things have changed, if she hadn't been there. She's too afraid to conclude anything, and repeatedly pushes the insistent thought away from her. She talks a lot to herself, although she's not conscious of it. Just as well, her husband had long since become used to her ignoring him, and so had the children. They had constructed their lives around her, not harming the bubble she lived in. She talks to her children occasionally, when they call to speak to their father.
80:
Her husband passed away a few years since. She had come into quite an amount of money, money that her husband earned, saved away and had passed it on to her. She lives with her son for one half of the year, and her daughter for the other half. She spends most of the day reading books, or just staring into space and talking to herself. Her children and grandchildren had gotten used to her behaviour. They pretended she didn't exist(much like she had pretended her children and father didn't exist, She thought to herself). Conversation was rather perfunctory, except when her grandchildren asked about their grandfather whom they adored. She didn't know much about him herself, so she often improvised. She contradicted herself sometimes, but her grandchildren either didn't notice, or pretended not to. She sees pictures of children in different countries without clothes, food, and donates all of her husband's money, partially hoping that she was changing someone's life, but mostly hoping that her children would argue about it and some conversation would ensue. They don't.
87:
The universe relieves her of her doubt, her guilt and her loneliness.
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