paper trail

In school, all we brats had to contend with were black with vertical bordered Natraj pencils and colour pencils during the drawing class. Small notebooks with horizontal blue lines and the red vertical margin line while Maths books had pages lined with horizontal and vertical lines to give a boxy perspective. Since we're classroom rats, word gets around. Everyone knows who has the most number of pencils, best quality pencils, bags, plastic scales. A Natraj pencil holder was ok, but a Staedler pencil holder was beheld like a human deity. The first ones to bring in the pen-pencil were instant celebs. Everyone wanted to be their friend. This phase began during 3rd or 4th standard. Primary school ended with 4th standard. So did the regimen of going to school at 12 noon.

With secondary school, 6 am baths and disgruntled moods to start off a day began. Half pants made way to full pants. A slick hairstyle and cut fingernails were now to be included in a list of to-do's before setting foot into school sweet 'concentration camp' school. After the morning assembly and prayers, classes began. Remember, the term "lecture" was introduced to us in college. At this point, when someone mentioned "lecture" we would imagine a lengthy boring discourse on xyz topic, and not a generic term for "class." 

The pencil now made way to the pen. Reynolds ball point pens were the vogue. Especially those with the white body and blue caps. Later came the more stylish tik-tik pens that you had to thumb-press the pen's butt to get the nib in and out. The longest lasting and school-regulation-allowed pens were the China ink pens - their nibs were so damn microscopic, its a wonder one could write with them at all. Then there's every mothers' nightmare - ink refilling adventures undertaken by the brat in school leading to ink blots over the school shirt.

Secondary school also brought the slow transition from plastic, see-through rulers to the steel ones - the same ones that irritated an entire generation of teachers, with their proinngg proingg sounds resulting from being wedged in cracks on wooden benches.

All this was taken into colleges as well. But, the satisfaction of irritating a teacher you've known for over 6,7 years doesn't compare to anything else. College passes by when you don't notice. And then work.

Work. Here, most of us don't perform manual writing on paper. Its' all typed. Its' been ages since I held a Natraj pencil or eraser. I hope this trail reverts to something retro soon. I can't think what will be next after the keyboard.

milkshake

(pic courtesy Varun N's cell, thanks man, now u kno why i grabbed ur cell in the middle of the road :D)

This sight sends chills down the hawker's spine. This imposing grey-as-death monster can snatch your living away in a matter of moments. Entire careers, livelihoods, and bread have been lost whole to this boogeyman. Behold, the BMC grand-confiscator! The sight of this beast even from 300 m away can set into motion reactions that scream 'helter-skelter, mass chaos, and code red alert!'. And what follows is the sight of more than 50-60 hawkers packing up their merchandise as quickly as they can and hiding it from sight. A few minutes later, the patroller moves on, and after a quick check of its disappearance, life resumes.

After plying people all day and night, early dawn seems to be the only time this rickshaw driver gets to catch up on sleep, after catching directions, swear words, and the occasional traffic cop the day before. The sun shining on his face reminds him of the above loop he has to survive all over again. But, for now, dreams of bollywood heroines will work just fine.

The most common use of hands (in public places atleast) by the Indian male. This self-degrading and mouth-cancer receiving act has been perceived as 'cool' by the junta that loves to spit red at signal intersections, any exposed wall, and pretty much any public location that doesnt have a tile of a god on it. Bus drivers spit red out of their door windows. And proof of this is evident 15 feet on the road from any bus stop.

Grr... thoo!* on these miserable fools.

random precision

BEST should offer new services to their passengers: replace some of the seats with recliners or even better, foldable beds. With the recent hike in fares, its the least they can offer. As it is the traffic conditions of today translate to buses (along with anything else with wheels) staying stationary much longer than moving. All this time spent staying still can be effectively used by passengers by catching up on lost sleep. Seeing as today's bus drivers sport bluetooth headsets, surely BEST is doing something right. It's time to show their gratitude to us laymen.

The 11th floor view of serpentine lines of vehicles on roads and flyovers is gratifying indeed. Watching hundreds of stressed school, college, and office-going stooges cramped together surrounded by heat-retaining concrete whilst sitting on a window facing chair in an air-conditioned room watching the sunlight bounce off the window at 10 a.m. Evil bliss!

The eternal metro, flyover, sky-walk construction and pothole filling activities have left us all incapacitated for the time being. A few others, like the mongrel below, seem thankful for such events, courtesy the cooling modern 'lair' provided.

hell-met

With the Mumbai roads, everything has to happen at the same time. The Metro construction, skywalk constructions, detours during heavy rains, and incessant honking by bikers and car drivers who think sound waves help facilitate smooth traffic movement. Travelling to work is a saga every single day, with sufficient new stories and scripts observed daily to empower 3 television series.

The purpose of skywalks is to eliminate pedestrians from the roads, considering 'footpaths' technically don't exist anymore. They're encroached by shops, tapris, and now, serve as an alternate route for 2-wheelers. Yet, skywalks aren't used by the walking citizens, who choose to run aimless cutting through traffic, contributing to the pandemonium. Subways don't fare better either, but atleast they aren't obstacles themselves.

With improved spending power of the working class, the number of vehicles on the roads has been on an upward trend and will continue to be. Although flyovers have eased the pain along the arterial roads, the scene in the inroads and other lesser important roads is terrible. And if you're a motorist who happens to be on one such road and you encounter a BEST bus here, you might as well cancel all imminent appointments and plug your ipod on to set the numbness in.

L'Oreally?

Even a decade ago, Indian youths were content with being fixated on simple stuff like hair braids, contact lenses, and new designs Bata was coming out with. They were healthy fixations that preoccupied them when they weren't mugging up brief answers in Geography or Science II.

Today, the youth's obsessions have taken an unhealthy turn. Of the many abominations that have caught the fancy of today's youth, the obsession with fairness really grinds my gears. Suddenly, this inferiority complex crept in. The need to look fairer was compounded when advertisements and brand ambassadors portrayed fairness as a pre-requisite to getting a good date, a good job, being accepted in society and what not!

Penelope Cruz and Aishwarya Rai have no idea how influencing they are when they flaunt their overpriced fairness creams and proclaim the aam janta to be 'worth it'?? what the hack? Selling someone their own 'dignity' seems to be the hand these MNC's are playing in this strange poker game of marketing. And no, they dont even get a naturally dark individual to play the part of the disillusioned non-fair person whom opportunities in life are evading. Its always a semi-fair person with a generous amount of shoe polish rubbed across the face. And within 2 weeks of applying said cream, voila! Not only are you fair, you're positively radiating, like Earth's second moon.

Playing with people's aspirations and careers for the sake of selling some tin cans isnt ethical, but hey, who cares about ethics, right? Being fairer than the person next to you is the all important difference when it comes to you getting a posh life and job. So, don't turn your ugly dark head up about this.

arteriosclerosis

Move over AXE Effect and Fair & Handsome! The latest bus-stop advertisements are the local netas (read: goondas) and their "colleagues" (read: henchmen). I wonder the logic adopted by these guys in self promotion. Usually riding on a festival or a national event or a public holiday or even a dignitary's  visit, these pompous rats will produce large banners (usually large plastic on wooden frames) and post them on every available bus stop and/or dangle them from every tree, roof, and tie them between lamp posts and even traffic signals.

Typically, its the main man's face that beams at you in its largeness. His face is 5 times larger than his subordinate, whose face in turn is twice as large as the 12-15 odd accomplices. Buckteeth, large lips, cross eyed looks, bad fashion, and desperately-need-haircut appearances greet you every morning when you're waiting for your bus.

Who allows such ridiculous abominations to be displayed? Power allows such ugly pigeons to strut their black feathers in front of the public eye, and what are we supposed to do? Adore them? We're already literally looking up to them. These political leeches appear to have only limited motives such as disrupting peaceful celebrations (Valentines'), showing superficial concern toward victims of floods, droughts and other calamities, and tirelessly working toward imprinting their ugly faces in our minds, most probably a month or so before any election.

sputter croak fizzle

Crucifixes of tires on telephone posts adorning roadside garages, serve as signals for those suffering by impromptu punctures and engine failures. A mechanic almost always in a navy blue shirt and dark grey trousers with a greased napkin dangling from his pocket, a spanner in hand, and a motor-oil branded cap worn backward will step up to help you out.

A lifted bonnet and a quick survey later, he briefs you in your engine's shortcoming(s) and suggests alternatives to put you out of your misery. Fix this, turn that, spike this, pour that, blow this, push that, exchange this, refill that. Once he's done with his under-the-hood shenanigans, he asks you to start the ignition and a healthy rumble later, he triumphantly shuts the hood, always a little harder than necessary, maybe to punctuate his efforts and squeeze out an extra tip.

Then, before you ask him how much that little session had cost you, he retreats to his 'shop' and gets his air tube and analyzes each tire's health. You sit back, waiting. And after short hisses and spurts, he creeps back into your rear view window, whistling some 90's Hindi movie song.

Retreat he does into his shop, and wipes his greasy hands on his greasy napkin, and with quick mental maths that you could never calculate or understand, he throws a 3 digit number at you, and even if you object to it, seeing his oiled burrows and stained cap, you rethink and decide to part with the said sum plus tip. A 'thank you boss' later, you're on your way, inevitably waiting to be serviced by the next mechanic a few hundred miles later.

brass knuckles

Hostility seems to be the theme doing the rounds. Wherever you look, it has left its eggs that have been spawned randomly in the unlikeliest of places as well as the usual suspects. BEST buses, local trains, signal crossings, etc being the usual domains and footpaths, college gates, colony entrances being the newbie domains.

The recent addition of 3 reserved seats for ladies in BEST hasn't gone down well with the male populace in these buses. Technically, now, a healthy male below 60 years of age (more than 80% of BEST travellers) cannot sit in the front half of the bus. Most times, you can see empty reserved seats and 5 or 6 standing disgruntled males. To make matters worse, you'll often find women sitting on general unreserved seats, to simmer the hot n' sour soup I guess. All this adds up to bigtime hostility and eventually leads to tiffs, arguments, and even the occasional skirmish which most definitely involves the conductor and a heated exchange in high-pitched Marathi.

I don't even need to bother withe hostility on the local trains - its been done to death. Just visualize a minor bump while boarding a Panvel-bound train at Kurla at 6 in the evening.
These monsoons, like snails and baby frogs, potholes suddenly begin to show up. Its as if they survive beneath the road's crust and show up when the rains arrive. Potholes by themselves are harmless, but when compounded with water and tyres, then you have a party. The latest fad is potholes on footpaths and how pedestrians prefer to walk on the roads and bikers prefer riding on footpaths. Insanity is rampant!

People distributing flyers outside college gates must be locked in a cage and dipped into the ocean with 2 minute intervals. Its bad enough that they don't have lives, but to waste other's time as well as aid and abet the monumental waste of paper that will only be crumpled and tossed away? These are the real criminals.

And yes, hostility at its best can be seen in the vicinity of almost any vacant auto or taxi. The newfound attitude of the drivers of the same is undesirable to say the least. Its as if the drivers usurped control of their vehicles from their owners and now decide to ply only whoever they wish to wherever they wish.

Today morning, I saw this poor drenched crow sitting n shivering on my window grille, who had lost his 'caww' (thankfully) and was sporting a spiked hairdo. That's how I feel when witnessing such hostility in the monsoons - voiceless and pitiful

incentive

the guy with the big fog machine came strolling into my colony.. the huge billowing sweet-smelling fogs took every1s visibility hostage.. and it felt like.. time jus stood still... watever activity u were doin, u had no choice but to stop it.. and get lost in the pretty foggy designs of that morning... the motor sounds of the contraption.. the dense fumes of mosquito repellant..


its beautiful.. and lasts for a few minutes... my windows were closed, but the mosquito net or jaali or watever u call it at the left extreme of the window was the only ventilation then... the fog made way thru that.. and proceeded to get comfortable in its new abode.. checkin out all the rooms.. i was waitin for opinions to be voiced.. none came.. .a brief few minutes later, visibility was restored.. and life realigned to normal... that was surreal.. the fog...


dullness creeps back frm the wall crevices that also houses sloth... they get imaginary lays american cream and onion flavor chips and pepsi for me.. and seduce me into my bean bag... i stare at my wall... the different pics and random stuff dangling on it..

and now im bored again.

bathroom capers

This we have all experienced, at least those who i believe had bathrooms while growing up.

• Stubbing your toe on the slightly elevated ledge that partitions the bathroom and the rest of the room/house 

• Dropping the slippery bar of soap while bathing/showering, bending to pick it up and dashing your head on the ledge that houses the soap when it isn't in use

• Watching the funny dents on the soap edges once you're done nursing the head dashing

• Forgetting to turn the "shower" knob back to the "non-shower" or "running water from tap" knob after you were done with the shower. This has on countless occasions left you leaving with a surprise shower while you were fully clothed and only wanted to wash your feet since you'd just gotten  home from out

• Dropping toothpaste onto the washbasin since you were too interested to see if any pigeons were residing on the window ledge that very moment

• And then picking the same toothpaste and redepositing it onto the toothbrush with your index finger, since you're too groggy/lazy to wash the basin

• Arranging your clothes on that metal rod to be worn post-bath a little too close to the shower range, which has resulted in the towel of all things getting showered as well, leaving you incapacitated and helpless after your bath and giving you no choice but to yell to mom for a replacement towel

• Slamming the window shut (the one with 5-6 panes of glass that fall neatly on top of each other when shut) since you think the whole world out there want's to steal a glimpse of your hot bod

• Waiting naked for a good 5 minutes as the water heated (you cant leave the shower on with the geyser on too, you'd definitely forget. Hence)

• You've lost count of how many times you've wanted a reclining water tub installed along with a 5-in-1 surround sound deck.. ahh!

• Doy soap, Medimix, Cinthol, Lifebuoy, Pears!

• Hair styling sessions with shampoo all over your head, also include shampoo mustaches and beards

• Soap or shampoo water in the eye meant horrendous torture and eye scratching leaving u thinking why me! WHY ME!??

the lost path

the indecisions we face between the ages of 21 to 25 are unique. these decisions or lack thereof will decide your future. Career paths are chartered in this 4-year gap for most. Some, like me, as my mom puts it, are 'late bloomers' and no, don't mistake the term for something unproductive. It simply means people like me (and I feel more people than not wont like to admit) don't know what they're doing and what they're gonna do with their lives.

No one knows anymore what the difference is between enjoying a hobby and fanning a career. And unfortunately for most people, they cannot extract a career out from their hobbies or interests, either because there is no scope in that field or not sufficient money for reimbursement. Simply put, you wont be paid for having fun!

Our education system is to blame, in large part. Segregating subjects as wide as Science, Arts, and Commerce immediately after SSC is unthinkable! Who would know what the kid is best suited for? Heck, even the most accurate predictions made by people who make a living out of predictions cannot be able to foretell where a child's interests may lie. Many will argue that today's kids are aware, they know what's happening around them, and they're smart enough to make an informed decision regarding their career paths at age 15. I guarantee that's not true. Only a bunch of whizkids are really aware of what's happening and an even fewer number of those really know what they want at 15 or 16!

Its' all a matter of luck. By luck, if you're thrust in your eventual field of choice, then the decision to select the right career will take place way sooner than for one with the misfortune of being in the wrong field in college. But, as the adage goes, its never too late for us 'late bloomers'. Once we've wizened up to this apparent flaw in the system and have discovered the plethora of subjects in which one can study further in, it only becomes a question of discovering your true interests, the most viable and income-generating interests, and sticking to that path. The rest that happens along the way will only help you.


All said and done, no, not everyone has a goal they can follow. Not all the time. Sometimes you need to wander to find the right path. In the words of JRR Tolkien, "Not all those who wander are lost."

kidulthood

The slow descent that we perceived the journey to adulthood to be as kids ironically speeds up when we're headed there, when we're aware. Maybe something about paying attention contributes. Kinda like relativity.


As kids, we're carefree, we don't have qualms, worries, issues to deal with; only those that pertain to kid-stuff; like "i wonder when I can reach that jar of cookies atop the shelf near the exhaust fan" or "i wonder when I can open the freezer myself." These were the head-scratchers we had then. I guess we, as kids, considered adult issues trivial, and as adults, consider today's kids' issues trivial. There was never any in-between, no transition or graduation from one problem set to another. As kids, we just knew somehow that adulthood was far far away.


Its like one night when we went to sleep, we were troubled kids wondering why the jam on the bread during breakfast tasted weird with butter, and then when you wake the next day, you have acne issues. You're in kidulthood, you're in limbo, the most worrisome of stages to be in. And the funny thing is, even though the duration of us being kids (12-13 years) and the duration of us being adults (70+ years) IS way longer than the duration that we stay adolescents (anywhere between 5 to 8 years), the adolescent stage definitely seems to last the longest.


Issues become magnified, feelings of isolation, no-one paying heed to symptoms, no one to 'understand' you. Relativity, simply put.


Kids should have a play-by-play recap of themselves during adolescence and during adulthood. Its the only way to remind adults to live their lives and not merely exist.

a day in the life of... (2)

usually lying on the tummy, snug behind a pot in the lush garden of bungalow no. 19, this fat cat owns the colony.. any real estate in my colony belongs to this feline.. he sleeps where he wishes.

his day begins with sleep, under the bmw 5 series or merecedes c-class, nothing less will do! Ever the regal feline (henceforth, Julian), Julian understands he's untouchable...so much that the colony mongrels stay smart and never get in Julian's way.. Julian has been known to chase rabid dogs outta the colony gates.. something the paid watchmen cannot muster doing with dandas et al.

Julian likes his tail and those of the 2 other cats from bungalow 20. Julian, one day, was discovered by me under the corolla of my neighbor, (bung. 24).. having his noon siesta.. and i couldn't resist trying to mess with the royal nap.. and hissed!.. and the glare i got in return.. i swear Julian transformed to the devil.. such spite and contempt I have never seen in the eyes of any living entity that's not human.. it was pure unadulterated evil.


 Julian also, in his spare time, likes to confuse himself by looking into the reflective windows of most bungalows. and believe there's another feline out to get him and oust him of his alpha-male status. claws on glass has the same effect as nails on a blackboard.

Julian is as good as a visiting relative.. a non-paying guest, one you would'nt dare evict.. lest you wish to give ur plants and windows an extreme makeover.. and get a barrage of whines and meows that echo into the night.

uneventful

i feel like a cog in a square wheel; on the surface, working 8 hours of the day, traveling an hour, sleeping 7 hours, and whiling away the rest of the day. This stat-line looks just about normal. But, the transition from a full-time student to a part-time employee cum student to full-time employee has not been as rosy as initially assumed. Taken a hit, my schedule has. Tired from work, all I can do returning home is eat dinner, complemented by some online activity, a movie or 2, and then sleep. That leaves little or no time for my preferred free-time activities (playing the guitar/basketball) and that does not make me happy. An increasing waist-line and decreasing play time makes kk a grumpy pseudo middle-aged individual.

Now I can see what self-employed people have and I covet it. Nothing against regular employment, I have. But, right now, all I would want is satisfaction both, at work and away from it. And so far, its been coming in spurts only.

In other unrelated happenings, a water balloon filled with purple-whatever was flung at a bus by random urchin. A nut on said bus forgets to close window on holi when said bus was approaching mankhurd. Result of oversight by abovementioned nut results in easy entry access by balloon. Result of accurate flinging by moronic urchin is not so desirable as a mind full of issues gets 1 more added to it. Yes, my mind.

squeal

my next-door neighbour has no heart or ears for that matter. he has bought his 10-year-old grandson a cute white puppy and housed the poor darling in a cage! inhumanity reeks from that bungalow, and reminding me that fact every minute are the pitiful yelps and high-pitched whines..and the only time that ceases is when the poor creature falls asleep out of fatigue.

i'm thinking of entering his house, and asking him in a very formal tone, how he would feel if I locked his grandson up in a cage because the brat runs around, yells juvenile nonsense, and throws stones at birds - things worse than what the pup's doing.. so if the caging was a form of reprimanding the pup, going by analogy, the kid should be tied up and hung upside down for a week every month.