I’m back and alive !!

I was not out from the blogging business, I was only momentarily down. Without the services of my right hand for three weeks, it became very difficult for me to even compose a small email, leave alone composing posts for my blog.

It was painful, scary and very thought provoking.
My bike was like the love of my life, and despite being warned by my elders(and well wishers), I continued to use it for commuting rather long journeys. Firstly let me clarify, I still love her and will never let her go. The was has been used to word the previous sentence because my bike is no more. It lies smashed in my driveway, and I’m myself not fit enough to take it for repairs (and major repairs at that).

I love biking. With the free wind blowing on the face, and the great pickup as compared to a 4 wheeler. Anyways, things have come to a rather unexpected halt. Maybe temporary, maybe permanent. Time will soon tell.

I was coming back one fine evening from my office, on a road that was not too well lit, although had very nice surface, and is mostly free of traffic. So naturally I was tempted to speed. I think I was doing around 60 kmph when out from nowhere came a cow(or a ox, I’m not too sure) and I, was rather too close to the beast to do anything to do anything smart or useful. I imminently crashed (head on) into it, and my bike uttered its last sounds, after which the place was still, dark, and absolutely deserted.

After lying there for around 2 minutes(it seemed like eternity to me at that time), I tried to see if I’m alive. It was that bad. First reaction was to see around and after opening my eyes (yes I could only gather the courage to do so after 2 minutes), I realised I could see, hear, and basically, my head was OK. Moved my neck rib-cage and spine and limbs felt real grateful for an instant.

My bike was smashed on it’s head, and whereas I thought only it’s light had broken, I realised that almost all instruments (speedometer, tachometer, clutch) had been knocked out by such a force that I felt terribly lucky to be alive. Hoping that my phone was OK, as I was on a deserted road, so that I could call for help, I whipped it out and tried to dial, when it hit me … my phone seemed to weigh like a brick and I almost let it go.

My hand was trembling and swollen. It was broken.

My Bike suffered the most.
poor baby….
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Hello … this is Malika from Airtel. Would you like to try the latest blah blah balh …

Uh oh. The recorded calls again!!
Shameless self promotion is one of the major problems, I feel that can be a nuisance to almost all the people. Many have become so irate after being subjected to the inhuman torture by the major cell service provider, that they vent their bottled up emotions on a unknowing person/object they can lay their hands upon. (Heck, you can’t even abuse a pre-recorded message).

Well, in case you’d like to do something about the scene, and you have Airtel, you go to :
Don’t Disturb

Lets’ hope it works and is not another phishing scam. (I’m not paranoid 🙂 )

Wash away all your sins ….. GET MARRIED !

Time and again, I had heard about how difficult it is for people to find a place, if they don’t live as a family. Always took it with a bit of humor and sense of bewilderment on why would such a weird line of reasoning exist without purpose.

There were a bunch of movies to depict such situations (usually with an added dash of humor), and stories I had read, on similar lines. I must say, they were enjoyable. 🙂

Not long ago, I was in a receiving end of such a scenario. Looking a good place to stay. For a bunch of bachelors. In NCR? I must be out of my mind…….

However, at the onset I couldn’t imagine how difficult it is going to be for me. (Rest in Peace, poor soul). Me and a couple of friends, decided after much deliberation, and contemplation, that living together would be fun and we should have a crack at it. So, we began the hunt …… (only to realize that we were the game)

I was taken to really shabby places, was shown the most rundown of the houses, asked for the most exuberant of rents, and may I add, humiliated. Why? Bachelorhood (esp. in India), is looked down upon by people. Now, I’m so used to getting the demeaning looks, once I go up to a landlord, and ask for a place for a bachelors. sigh !

Even the brokers have their share of fun when they see our plight and I can see why the situation might look more comic with the third person’s perspective. But it’s sad. I feel demoralized, after the sort of treatment we’ve been subjected too!

“Bhayia yeh ghar dekh lo. Bachelors ke liye theek rahega”
–One of the brokers, who after showing us a really crappy house, expected us to take it.(He was blasted away with the choicest of abuses.)

“Kuware ho? Khaane ke liye kya karoge”
–One of the landlady interrogating us before showing us the house.(Ma’am we can cook, and might I add, in this particular case, much better than you)

“I wish you had asked me a month earlier. Now I have got the woodwork done and whitewash. Now I’ll give it only to a family”
–Another land lady.(We also like clean+well done house. But, anyways, your point is ????)

“Bhayia aap to shaadi kar lo. Woh kaam zyaada aasan hai. Phir ghar dilana to mere baayen haath ka khel hai”
–Another broker trying to be funny.(This one I beleive had a point 🙂 )

It’s not that we live like there’s no tommorrow. We are also human beings.

It’s like being blamed for a crime one has not committed ……..
I can feel how the oppressed group might feel in a communal rage …..
I pity myself for being here …….

India ……. Prejudice is thy middle name!

A friend of mine had to say this

What if you go seeking a prospective could-be-bride’s hand for the big “holy alliance”, from her parents ? Probably they would say “Beat it loser!!!Our daughter is availabale only to already married men. Bachelors ……. shooooo!!!

😉

A new beginnig.

No matter, how many times one does this, I feel, things remain the same. The new smell, faces, and culture. Basically, it’s always a mix of excitement, fear, thrill, lack of comfort, and more feelings associated with the one thing that is constant (and consistent) at any level, i.e the change.

Be it a change of house, change of people you interact with, or change of workplace, it takes some ‘getting used to’ on all the elements involved it the change.

I happen to have changed my office. I am experiencing the feeling referred to as ‘change’ . I guess, so will my new boss, and my old one. Not to forget the friends I had there.

The place seems new, the methods newer. My only companion on this first day at new place is me. Reminds me of my first day at school, much the same. First day at college. I could go on and on ….. I hope you get the picture.

Sounds bad ? I wouldn’t say.Without the quest for changing every aspect of our day to day life, I’m pretty sure, we might not have evolved, as the way we have.

As for me, change is essential for progress, experience, and my one quest “learning what life wants me to do…..”.

What women want

Not again! You might say, but this is a real life incident which happened and I think it was really amusing, so I wanted to share it.
OK.

[Prologue]
"Men are from mars and women from Venus"
"Hum Tum"

[Body]
Some wise men have very aptly distinguished between the thought processes of male and female mind. Although being aware of these statements and theories, I had another “inner” voice which kept on reminding me that such statements are by Hippocrates, and none of the examples cited can be generalized, so as to applicable to the entire male or female sect.

[sis]
So, then, there was this major party for which my sis. decided to do some designing of her outfit. Nothing wrong with that, although she shouldn’t expect to be driven around and mollycoddled, in her pursuits. Now otherwise, she loves to rally about on the agenda of womens equality and liberation in India, and usually I appreciate her viewpoint, cause she’s very sensible and correct. Despite all this, she is so terribly dependent on others, or is she simply too lazy, or busy? (She hasn’t yet got her driving license, despite celebrating her b’day for a ‘more than sufficient’ number of times).

[mom]
My mommy dearest. She actively supported the idea of my sis designing, and so she offered all the expert advice ( and of course, she knew of a certain tailor, from whom she gets lots of her own dresses made), and encouragement.

[scoop]
So, the process of procuring the raw materials, starts from something like a month before the scheduled date of the party. The only glitch, that despite their creativity and experience as a combo, none of them could even drive up till the market to get the things required. So they schedule their activities for the weekends, and rope in either me, dad, or the driver to actually actuate the part of the process. 🙂 . Wow ! . A month prior to the due date. Seems like a big project.

[weekend 1 – no details]
Somehow, and not very clear to me, they manage to get hold of some cloth which my sis thinks is apt for her dress, and they give the cloth and the specifications to the tailor. My otherwise extremely preoccupied sis actually manages to go to the tailor and very patiently explain to him on what she wants. Every single detail is discussed on, and finally, the tailor starts to make the dress, and all of us(at least, me) wait in anticipation of some magical creation by my sister.

An oversight by my sis : the ‘dupatta’ (stole) for the ‘salwar kameez’ (an Indian traditional attire for young women). Who bought that . Apparently nobody .

[weekend 2 – karol bagh]
They have the specs (design and color). And they are at the mecca of fashion world, thanks to the driver who could not help but drive them. Despite being there for an entire day, they come back empty handed. “Nothing interesting was available” claims my sis. This dress of hers is going to be immaculate, I wonder.

[week + weekend 3 – at the tailor’s]

“The dress is brought back home from tailor by either mom or dad or someone and is scrutinized by sis. She cannot afford to go to the tailor’s . She is way too busy. There are some modifications, respecify and re-send to the tailor.”

Reapeat the same for n number of times.

Although my dad claims, that he’s gone to the tailor for 6 times and the maid for another 6 and mom for 6 more,(18 : SOME ERROR! exaggeration perhaps!!) I can safely assume, that totally, they’ve made 6 trips. So n is equal to 6.

Still, 6 iterations. This has gotta be big! I wonder.

[weekend 4 – gurgaon + the tailor]
There’s no sign of duppata yet. Sis is freaking out.The party is tommorrow, and after a lot of cajoling and convincing, I am the one who’s supposed to take my mom and sis to yet another market from where they can possibly get the thing. (Another note: my sis needs mom’s assistance even for buying clothes. I just realized that and can’t help but smile abt. blasting a college friend for being like that). Anyways, since it’s a weekend, and it’s like a wholesale market, it was bound to be crowded, and I get the shivers, thinking of driving into that wild rush.

So I drive them to a point adequately close to the dupatta shop, and ask them to go by a rickshaw, and offered to wait for them till they come back. With some luck, or forced by circumstances, my sis actually picks and buys one dupatta, gets it dyed to the shade required, and we head back home.

That holy creation that involved so many people’s effort and hard work.(my sis , mom, dad, maid, me, tailor, dupatta guy) . This was a big undertaking. I request for a preview, before dinner, and my sis obliges by wearing the new dress and the entire outfit. accessories et all.

“ewww….. what a color” was the first thought that came to my mind. It wasn’t all that bad, but it somehow, didn’t suit my sis’s complexion. “Bad choice of cloth” was my dad’s opinion. Anyways, mom stopped us from commenting, and I guess I really shouldn’t have, it was such a hard work, and I should have considered the efforts put in by my sis before opening my big mouth.

Well somehow, mommy convinced my sis, it’s good and we all decide to get dressed or dinner. I was damn hungry after that trip to gurgaon. What a rush!!!

All of us were heading for dinner when my sis comes downstairs laughing like crazy. I knew exactly what might have happened. She was so pissed just moments ago by my comments.

“Well….”” she said,

“As I was was getting out of the salwar kameez, it was kind of tight ad this one place, and in my effort, to get it off, it got damaged”.

Mom was stunned . Silence, the eerie kind, all around. Later, I broke into a chuckle. Dad laughed out loud, and mom goes hyperactive in suggesting ways to fix the damaged part.

[epilogue]
Well all that, after a month of hard work. My sis still doesn’t have a dress to wear, and the party’s tommorrow evening.

My kudos

Finally.
After a lot of thinking around with the idea, and considering the various available options, I hereby take a step (or shall I say a dip) into the colorful world of blogging.

I have an idea about why I need to do it, but it’s only vague, and at the moment, seems ungainly.No explanation just an attempt to explore the unchartered territories, and perhaps get a different view, on what makes blogging such an addictive activity.

I take this post to thank certain ppl who inspired me to start writing.
So , without further ado, hats off to

  • anurag
  • panne
  • pro
  • and the very artistic kesto