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Monday, January 31, 2011

Wallabies

When life gets uneventful and the days go slowly , there is often a need to liven matters up. This can be done in several ways , but the way of two good friends of mine ( one, an upright and dignified gentleman named C ; the other , a small, but gaunt and severe lady named N) is to be examined on this occasion.
C is rather a unique character.. He rides a bike at 7 pm daily around the streets of Bandra. However, he is extremely devious and outsmarts those who try to identify him, by changing his bike daily. This simple ploy has thrown me off guard on many occasions ; when yesterday,  a hooded figure stopped by me , and spoke my name in a  manner that was nothing short of chilling, I confess I wanted nothing better than to run from that place screaming for help. When the hood was taken of and  the dignity of C confronted me, I was relieved and almost dared to feel like throwing a good punch. However , he calmed me down , told me mollifying-ly that it was a new bike , and would I like a ride? 'No' said I. ' It's a new bike!' he insisted.
How the argument panned out is for another time, however. I digress.
N, boasts of somewhat different eccentricities. She is a teacher of rare gift, but uses her imposing manner and intimidating facial expressions to terrify her pupils into meek submission . The other day, a pupil was made to blow Bandra Fair bubbles for five minutes as a punishment because she did not do her homework. It scarred her forever of course and there are rumours that she still has terrifying visions of N bearing down upon her, majestically waving the box filled full of the liquid in one hand and the plastic ring in the other.
Of course, when these two get together in the rare atmosphere of higher altitudes, amply aided by a bottle of Immaculately Brewed Whiskey , the aforesaid livening up of life takes place. While N is highly intimidating, C decided that she sorely lacked the ability to hold her own in a physical confrontation. I , politely , beg to differ with Mr C, having been at the receiving end of a particularly nasty twisting of the fingers. But C must have his way; very soon he was coaching her in the art of punching.
To cut a long story short, C , realising that he did not enjoy the punches as much as he thought he would, decided, on a sudden inspiration from the memory of the remains of his fourteenth vintage bike, to divert them to the wall.
Pliable as she is when under the influence, with a roar of rage, N charged at the wall, fist raised . Reached there, she sank her fist into it as hard as possible.

For the last few days , N's punishments have been less severe. The cast, plaster and other such irritants have rendered her unable to do her bubble bottle waving act. However, it is to resume soon, and I have excellent knowledge that the first victim is to be none other than C.




Thursday, January 20, 2011

And then there was Facebook philosophy.

Facebook is delightful and Mark Zuckerberg is something of a legend. Just when you think , 'Ah , now it's losing some of its sheen ' , you are rudely awakened by some ten-odd friend requests from enemies of acquaintances of kidergarten friends, not to mention an invitation to two or three pages named after rare and creative passions of the owner, for example ' I love hitting the snooze button on my cellphone alarm ' and  ' I fall asleep, everyday, on the last bench of the classroom'. With a little browsing, you will find that the fifteen-year-old  female acquaintances you may have  collected are now loudly proclaiming their love for each other through status updates and that potential romances with boys of that tender age are  being addressed by adding the concerned parties as 'siblings' . I'm still trying to fathom what that means because in my time , a sibling was not looked at romantically.
Today , though , while I was scrolling through my Wall , I found the secret to a healthy life in an acquaintance's post. Rather, a Lady(so shall l refer to her henceforth) had shot out a post of psychological penetration so deep that I had the secret chucked between my rather large nose and my somewhat smaller mouth. I felt the impact , and had to have  a snifter before I was myself again.


This Lady has always surprised me. She is of breathtaking beauty and oozes confidence , but that is where the oozing ends. She is fond of her voice, but when the voice speaks , it goes on and on , when it sings , it goes off. I therefore, try to avoid her company.
On Facebook though , she is a philosopher in the Stephenie Mayer mould. Deep and intense observations on Life are always at hand. 'If I had been killed by what made me strong , I would be dead and unable to make all of you strong' was greeted with fifteen 'likes', overwhelmingly male, and some thirty odd comments, in which this gem was discussed , analyzed , praised and  exalted.
'The sea called life passes you by before you have time to realise that waves are never stationary and eventually break' was a cause for much heartburn because even the Lady's fans had a problem understanding the Lady's English. I myself, have gone through it with a magnifying glass , devoted hours of study to it and have come away with four puns, an allegory , three metaphors and a simile. For the detailed analysis, please visit  http://www.dickipedia.org and take your pick.

However, today's post needs no analysis. It is  simple and powerful and will give you all you need to fight life's worst curse. All in a tremble , I quote The Lady :
'Smoking kills. If you're killed, you have lost a very important part of your life.'

I have quit smoking.





Wednesday, January 19, 2011

The Rickshaw : As I lay waiting

A daily adventure for me is the one during which I procure a rickshaw. You see , I live in the great Indian city of Mumbai , variously called The Pot Pourri (charmingly , 'Pot' is pronounced as in 'teapot' , and 'Pourri' as in 'pani-puri'), The City That Sometimes Sleeps, The Financial Capital, The Tenacious City, and Bombay.

I make a moderate journey daily and this makes the vehicle that features in the title, necessary. There is a method
by which one obtains these precious conveyors of humankind. If you observe the Bandra-ite , he does it by standing stiff, shooting out a ramrod straight hand and saying 'Rick-Shore'. The Andheri-ite differs slightly in that he flaps the arm about a bit  before squealing 'Rick-Shaa' . Up further north, they probably use a different language. (In Delhi, the rumours are that it's a strangely unintelligible 'Aah-Toe')

There are always numerous encumbrances in executing whichever method you choose ( mine is the Bandra method) . Today was different , though. After just one incident, I had the wind knocked out of me so absolutely that I decided to put my tail between my legs and seek my rickshaws elsewhere.

 I was standing near Podar School, Santa Cruz, in my usual manner , arm outstretched and brow furrowed. A rickshaw was chuffing along ; he seemed to see me but showed no signs of speeding up or slowing down. I assumed he would brake sharply on reaching within a foot of me , for dramatic effect. My little fantasy was rudely interrupted though , by a fat local lady.  She had been shuffling dangerously from side to side, fifty feet behind me, moments earlier , indicating a brand of lameness that many Indian women acquire as soon as their sons get married and a daughter-in-law is available for the enviable task of massaging the legs. This particular fat lady's magically repaired legs started moving forward at an extreme  pace on her beholding the rickshaw . She interposed her considerable being between the rickshaw's front and me, bringing it to a premature grinding halt. A husband and children appeared out of nowhere , bags and suitcases materialised ; before the driver or I knew what was happening, children and bags were being hurled inside in a similar manner ( I think the order was suitcase, girl , large bag , boy) and the couple elegantly took it's place with the shuffling manner of the lady now properly resumed. I don't think the driver had a chance to even splutter 'kahaa?' , he just drove away, gasping and I was left gaping.

I am still learning about survival. The average Indian is far ahead of me on this count.