Some crap

Why does anyone write a blog?
Why do I write a blog?
Just to say what I want to say and read it myself, and also let others read it and enjoy or know me or just to air some view or just plain write something when I feel like.
You know for loong, I have been concerned with how my current blog might effect my current image and future relations and my own feelings and image of my past self when I see the blogs in the future. Its unnecessarily complicated to think and now it seems truely dishonest if I miss to reflect my correct current thought process. But, I also know that this is not my diary, so it is alright if I don't publish everything I write.

Well, thats all! This episode of "Some crap" ends here.

Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar

It is fitting that the player regarded world over as the best one day player ever scores the first double ton in ODI history.
To be able to do what he has done over the past 20 years is phenomenal, unbelievable and for most people, the definition of unattainable. He has reached the limits of the humanly achievable and now toying with the unthinkables. His records now stand as a city of walls that people can only dream of breaking. It does not seem possible that another man will ever be born who can surpass him in even half the areas he now leads the world in. No matter how much praise you pour on him, it will never really express the feeling that people have for him. That is the greatness of Sachin. On field as well as off-field, he is respected and looked up to. He is a man fit to be called a true Champion of this world. The moment people see him, they find joy in their hearts. He gives them hopes, he gives them cheer. His presence is a panacea for cricket lovers. Tragedy, disease, disability, everything blurs when people watch him play. He is a hero. He is a true genius. He is, deservingly, the man, who people call GOD.

Looking out of the window

I am sitting on the steel chair, typing on the laptop on the study table in front of me in a house at the top of a small hill overlooking the I-90 below. I am looking to my right, out of the big glass window towards lake Washington beyond the flyovers. The evening sun is going down beyond the hill bordering the lake. There are clouds around, lying low, bearing the water that makes the state, "The Evergreen State".
Its been 3 months now.
My first visit to US; onsite.
Its been a good time. People suggested that I take photos of the sun in India as I wont be able to see anything like that here. But, from the day I landed here, I have seen the sun every single day. It is now the 26th of Dec and I can see the sun shining brightly onto my desk. This has never happened here, or so they tell me. I am lucky, I must say then. It also keeps raining here...ALL the time; that was what I was told. :) you know the rest. Sun in, cloud out.
Leaving this apart, the green-ness of the place just so fills you, that you can't take it anymore. The green is so rich, so healthy...its so greeeen, it's a treat for the eyes coming from hyderabad. I have never seen a greener place in my life.
3 months have just flown by, but I have a vivid recollection of every experience I have had here.
The first month was totally unreal for me. I had only seen the US and its culture in hollywood movies and I have seen so many of them that the american way of life had become more of a reel fact than a real one! Everywhere I went , I felt I was in a movie. The greetings, the exclamations, the way of talking, the different dialects, the grocery super shops, the tellers, the helpers, the roads, the cars, the blacks, the whites, the girls and the jolly big fat lady.
I am used to it now and... blending in. I have to say that I like more things here than I dislike.
People are generally less tense, more talkative, more explicit in expression and more clear about what they want. And there is customisation everywhere, from the burgers and pizzas, to the 1000 types of cheese, to 0%,1%,2%, fullfat milk. From cars to houses to beds to groceries. Every single thing has a million varieties and you are supposed to be damn sure about exactly which 1/1 millionth thing you want. If you are not, you will be out of place, make no mistake. Pure capitalism, in the flesh. Its refreshing, even good, but it takes some getting used to.
Hmm...and I've got to tell about the traffic here. It is one of the most striking thing about US. There is a huge problem with it: it's too organised! I had to unthink so many of my personal driving tips, to comfortably travel everyday. Consider this, you are driving at 60 Km/hr(or arnd 35-40 Miles/hr) on the main road and there is a road joining into it from the left( in India and from the right in the US). In the US, you don't stop, you don't even slow down. You go past that road at 35 Mph. In India, if you do that, you will be involved in an accident where you'll lose you 1 hand, 1 leg, 1 spine and 1 head. I was shit scared the first few days, I went through Bellevue. I couldn't get over the crawl-through-intersections-to-be-safe rule I religiously followed in India. There is so much blind trust here, trust that everyone will follow rules, its insane. Accepting this fact is the first step to a successful stay in the US. :) And also, that is why the penalties are so heavy for disobeyance, of any rules. And all rules are very detailed and very well thought out to cover every scenario possible.
The blind trust syndrome is what also leads me to assume to be the reason for people here loking for specialists in everything. There is a specialist, an expert for every small thing here. If you want to build a house, there is an expert for lighting, an expert for windows, an expert for plumbing, an expert for walls, an expert for architecture, an expert for glasses on the windows, an expert for the fireplaces, an expert for every damn small thing that you can find in your house. People trust the expert blindly and education is important. That is why I believe, the education here stresses more on practice than theory and is not very easy to mug up and finish off either.
People here believe in proven results and proven results only. And so there is data collection of everything, and there are so many surveys and analysis of surveys and analysis of data and conclusions and debates on the conclusions etc etc. People here are very scientific, in the fact that they trust analysis of data more than promise. Most rules, laws are based on data analysis. Every product made, or even thought about is supposed to be based on data analysis. Analysis of present data is very much a part of people's mindset here. Every conversation has an analysis part to it based on the data present in somebody's mind and if more data is supplied to contradict an opinion, it is taken very positively and very openly. This, I think is one of the best virtues of people I have sen until now in America.( Of course there are always people who are otherwise but the general public is very open)
There are so many more things to talk about the US, so many comparisions with India.
I have them all recorded in my mind. Some are good, some are bad, but there is one thing that I've come to understand through this trip; whatever culture, whatever practices exist right now, in the US as well as India, are the ones that exactly fit the times and the places.

My train travel poem

I am travelling in the train now.
I am moving fast, and shaking too.
My neighbours, a group of happy old men, are cracking jokes, laughing and drinking too.
The girl nearby is working on her laptop, but her eyes sometimes are staring at me too!
The vendor came in, I bought Ruffles lays, two.
I hope they keep the train clean, cause my berth is very near to the...you know...loo.
At office today I was deep into issues. I thought I would have to cancel the trip, true.
But they all got resolved and I am now relaxed and here, phew!
The curtains on the windows here are really well picked. They're beautiful. They seem new.
There's also a painting on the wall, with all the colours one could construe!
Well.....I think I need to sleep now, though frankly I would like this poem to continue...
Enjoyu.

It rained in Hyderabad.

I drove my car out of the parking and started for home. It was raining and raining heavily. The clouds, which had been lingering around in Hyderabad skies, threatening a strike anytime, for the past few days, finally delivered what they had threatened.

I was expecting a few traffic jams on my way.

One particular jam, which happens regularly and very near to my house is the most frustrating.

There is a 2 lane bridge across the river Musi just before the next traffic signal. When traffic gets heavy people drive in to the opposite lane(on the other side of the divider) and block oncoming traffic from the other side. And it was raining today.

There is a bus stop just after the bridge(near the lights) and a traffic jam there means no buses on the reverse route.

I was listening to songs while waiting for the traffic to clear, all the time watching more and more people enter into the other lane from before the bridge and try to take a right turn through the opposite lane.

The traffic came to a halt. Nothing moved. The I started looking around for anything interesting.
I saw a student arguing with a biker about something pointing towards the traffic lights. I thought he might be asking a lift and the biker refusing and all.. But then he talked to another biker, then an autowalla. I got interested.

He was talking to people who crossed into the other lane and was very softly(with nerdy glasses and a notebook in his hand) trying to convince them that it was not right and they are blocking the traffic from the other side. People just neglected the guy. His words fell through deaf ears. But he kept going. He tried talking to more people, but their responses did not vary.

It was still raining slowly. I felt a slight pity for the boy. And a feeling that he needs to use force not persuasion to have effect.

Slowly I saw a few more youngsters join with him in trying to convince people not to come into the other lane. Then a few more joined in. And then more came in.
By the time I reached the traffic light the boy was standing at the starting point of a chain of students forming a human traffic divider, guiding vehicles into the right lane.

And the traffic flowed. The jam was gone. And while crossing the junction I could see four smiling, relieved, proud policemen standing in the 4 different directions telling the boys when to stop people and when to let them go.

I had that smile people have when they actually see something they think is only a matter of TV shows or intellectual talk, propaganda bullshit and the types...

It was real. It happened. I saw it. And it rained in Hyderabad.

Anger Management Joke!

Go on and read this.. For all those anger freaks....!!

Are you pissed off? Take it out on someone! But don’t take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don’t know!
I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I’d forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered, saying “Hello.”
I politely said, “This is Chris. Could I please speak with Robyn Carter?”
Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear “Get the right f***ing number!”And the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn’t believe that anyone could be so rude. When I tracked down Robyn’s correct number to call her,I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits.
After hanging up with her, I decided to call the ‘wrong’ number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled “You’re an ass hole!” and hung up. I wrote his number down with the word ‘ass hole’ next to it, and put it in mydesk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had areally bad day, I’d call him up and yell, “You’re an ass hole!” It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic ‘ass hole’ calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, “Hi, this is John Smith from the telephone company. I’m calling to see if you’re familiar with our Caller ID Program?”
He yelled “NO!” and slammed down the phone. I quickly called him back and said, “That’s because you’re an ass hole!” and hung up.
One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I’d been waiting for that spot, but the idiotignored me. I noticed a “For Sale” sign in his back window, so I wrote down his number.
A couple of days later, right after calling the first ass hole (I had his number on speed dial),I thought that I’d better call the BMW ass hole, too. I said, “Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?”
He said, “Yes, it is.”
I asked, “Can you tell me where I can see it?”
He said, “Yes, I live at 34 Oak tree Blvd., in Fairfax. It’s a yellow ambler, and the car’s parked right out in front.”
I asked, “What’s your name?”
He said, “My name is Don Hansen,”
I asked, “When’s a good time to catch you, Don?”
He said, “I’m home every evening after five.”
I said, “Listen, Don, can I tell you something?”
He said, “Yes?”
I said, “Don, you’re an ass hole!” and I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.Now when I had a problem, I had two ass holes to call.
Then I came up with an idea. I called ass hole #1. He said, “Hello.”
I said, “You’re an ass hole!” (but I didn’t hang up).
He asked, “Are you still there?”
I said, “Yeah,”He screamed, “Stop calling me,”
I said, “Make me,”
He asked, “Who are you?”
I said, “My name is Don Hansen .” He said, “Yeah? Where do you live?”
I said, “Ass hole, I live at 34 Oak tree Blvd, in Fairfax, a yellow ambler.I have a black Beamer parked in front.”
He said, “I’m coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers.”
I said, “Yeah, like I’m really scared, ass hole,” and hung up.
Then I called Ass hole #2.He said, “Hello?”
I said, “Hello, ass hole,”
He yelled, “If I ever find out who you are…”
I said, “You’ll what?”
He exclaimed, “I’ll kick your ass.”
I answered, “Well, ass hole, here’s your chance. I’m coming over right now.”
Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 34 Oak tree Blvd, in Fairfax, and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.
Then I called Channel 9 News about the gang war going down in Oak tree Blvd. in Fairfax.
I quickly got into my car and headed over to Fairfax. I got there just in time to watch two ass holes beating the crap out of each other in front of six cop cars, an overhead news helicopter and surrounded by a news crew.
I feel much better (sigh).Anger management really does work.

The Match.

I was pained today. emotionally. Mumbai Indians lost the match against Rajasthan Royals. It was a match that they had almost won half way through the Royals innings but somehow managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.
Sachin will be out of IPL this year now.
I supported his team all through and in the end they could not hold their nerves. That really made me so sad. I trust myself to perform my best when most needed(call it crunch situation). And when I am supporting someone so wholly and with the heart and when he(I refer to the team as a person here.For me its Sachin=Team.Coz hes the captain) turns out a choker, I feel really let down.
This brings me to the question:
Why should I feel so much for a team? Why should I relate my happiness to someone else's success? And that too when I really have no direct relation there; No personal stake in his success; No contribution I can make and no result I can have a share of.
Why should I get so excited?
One reason could be that I personally think I would have become a Sachin tendulkar if not for studies and parental pressure to pursue reading more than playing... And then in that case that would be MY team playing out there.
One reason for this is that you need to associate yourself to something. Man, by nature, is a social animal. He needs company. Of course groups were initially formed for resource aggregation but, through the ages now, every social animal needs to share its feelings, anger love, hunger, gaiety, anything. But it needs to share. For that it needs to associate itself to some group. A personal group. Could be a family, a class, a friends group, a players group, a city, a state, a country, and many more. It just needs to have something in common. Or some interest in common. In this team's case it is the win which becomes common. When they win you win. You feel great. They lose you lose. You feel bad. You moods are dictated by that teams perfomances. and so it goes on...as long as the team exists or you severe the connection with it.

Another true(and deeper) reason is, I admire Sachin so much and believe in his ability so much, I want him to win.
Now .. Why?? WHy is it that I want him to win?

That is because if he wins my trust in his ability will be vindicated. I get emotional benefit and satisfaction as well as confidence for recognizing and trusting the right ability. And it proves to me that what I recognise as talent is surely talent. So when I recognise something in myself I will trust it to be true and hence it will add to my overall confidence in myself and my abilities.
So things like these really matter.
It applies to almost all people, old guys to kids, everyone.
And this applies also to you and ...me .

Late nights...

I've been observing a little strange phenomenon about myself..

My past few blogs have been written by me in the night. And I mean late night, like right now 12:40 am and beyond.

I feel like writing when I am alone, and there is no one to disturb me.(Guess thats like one of the most common preferences of ppl) but still, there is an evening and there is a morning and there is an after lunch time at office when all go to sleep.(me too). So why only the night?

Okay, I'll tell you. Lately I have been having this feeling that sleeping is such a waste of time.

I just don't feel like sleeping long hours. My body asks for it but when I really do sleep, inside me someone wakes me up some one wants me to get up and get going.

So, since I can't really sing and make loud noises at night and I am not so much interested in anything else, my body turns me towards writing. It forces me to write. I don't know if it really does something constructive, but it does give me a feeling of satisfaction that I have done something instead of just sleeping off.

Now my body is using all kinds of filthy words for me and pulling me to sleep, but I just feel like writing some thing more...

Sleep is as important as anything else in life. I know. And many things in life are more important than sleep sometimes. Writing a blog presently seems one of those things to me..

I'll know better in future. I guess....
My liking for writing might stem from the fact that I am basically an open minded guy. I don't like keeping personal feelings in myself and die. When you have no hidden feelings, no stored up emotions, you're happiest and my sole purpose in life is happiness, my happiness as well of people around me.
So when I write the feelings inside me come out in the form of words. There are some feelings which cannot find expression physically. Those sentiments find a home in the writings. And when I read them back, I feel a sense of freedom inside me, a feeling of relinquishing some kind of control over myself, some breaking of shackles kindof stuff.
Now it might not be all so complex and so sentimental but simply.... I like writing. It gives me a sense of permanence in this impermanent world.
I try to understand the concepts behind life and try to explain them to myself and to you(which is many a times me myself!).
I would keep on writing till my hands fall off if not for sleep. and the topic goes back to the starting point.. Good night..

Guide....

"Zindagi bhi ek nasha hai dost.
Jab chadta hai to poocho mat kya alam rehta hai.
Lekin jab utarta hai......"
Hmm..... Din Dhal Jaaye, haye, raat na jaaye..
Tu to na aaye teri yaad sataye..

The Guide

At 1 am in the night, all I have in my eyes are tear drops which I cannot allow to come out. The melancholy, the pain in the moment is consuming me, but I cannot give in to it. My throat swells but I feel a a sense of happiness, a strange feeling of contentedness.
As I watch myself go through all these feelings I rewind time to when I opened the folder named "The Guide" and opened the file named "Part-1" in the media player.
I knew the story. But as I watched it, as I got involved in it, as I went through every dialogue every scene of it, the flow took me by hand and led me away. The feeling of love is shown so beautifully in the movie, it moves you.
Love..
Love, is such a strong feeling, it overpowers anything and everything in the world. A profound, unconditional, complete love for something gives you immense, immense strength.
That is why true love is the matter of folklore.
As I write this, I think to myself, "true love".......Hmm....I turn inwards..
I put myself the question.. Do you love anything so truely, so purely as you imagine to be love in its definitive, core form?
A question worth pondering, surely...........
I answer............ and I answer to myself............
Where there is pure trust, where there is complete faith, where there are no bindings no rules, where there is total freedom, where there is nothing but a connection which is assumed an irreplaceable part of your body, an inseperable part of your existence on this earth, of your consciousness, there lies the answer to your question. ....

someone inside me says... "you won't find it my friend.. nobody does.... it is non-existent"
I say..."It is not just people i am talking about, brother.."

An evening through my office....

I came to office late, at about 4:30 PM. I had watched the second final between India and Australia all day at home(skipping office). I felt immense joy and satisfaction that OUR BOYS had done the job and done it well. We had won. My time, it seemed(and everybody would agree!), was very well spent.
I had come to office with the intention of staying back in office, sleeping in the dorm. My colleagues, although jealous of my royal routine have a big heart and accept me as I am.. and I really like them for that. !!
As evening shadows grew longer, a cool breeze started off in the campus. The moment we came out to have snacks I felt myself loose consciousness in the moist smell of the air. There were raindrops somewhere...Ahh.. the fragrance mother earth spreads with her joy of meeting her departed little drops...
The beautiful green trees all around with the blue, yellow, violet, pink flower bushes at their feet and the lush green lawn to the left and right of every step along the curvy path, along with this mesmerising breeze was too much for me to hold in conscious attention.
My friends were talking to me. I listened to them, but my mind was filled with the whole world around me.
They guided me to the snack counter and I ate 2 Veg. Puffs.
We came back to our desks, with tummy's satisfied and minds rejuvenated, elated, dazed.
I was left walking alone, in unchanged external conditions, towards the farther food court after all had left for their homes. The sun had gone down and the ambient lighting was on.
As I went by the Amphitheater I could see people sitting together in groups, in couples, singing, laughing and...., it seemed to me, having no connection to the world whatsoever except that of their mutual presence, the moment and the joy shared in those beautiful surroundings.
I passed by the Cricket ground, grass cut to the perfect level, sprinkled with groups of people, employees of course, of different ethnicities, different languages, different attitudes, chatting, making fun, pulling legs, laughing aloud, smiling quietly, discussing, contemplating, looking into each other's eyes, oblivious to a particular observing guy walking past them, who seemed as if enjoying some experience, moving in a dazed way as if drunk, as if in a state of bliss.
As I saw the faces, as I went up to my dinner plate, as I looked into it, I could not but think,
"What else does a man want in his life".
Every spoon of my dinner gave me joy, and it was not on account of the taste of the food. It was the thought, the feeling, that I had at that moment, the thing that every man in this world desires, searches for through God knows how many ways and through how many means, which he finds at the zenith of his achievements, at the conquest of his goal.
I knew I desired nothing else in the world in that moment...... and I knew I was right.

Time.....

There are times when you feel that the only thing you want to kill is time and there are definitely others when the only thing that you seem to require is time.
Why?
According to the theory of relativity, if I am running faster time runs slower for me and if I am running slower time runs faster for me. This is so, since the speed of time can be taken as a universal constant.
I would like to proceed by demonstrating the point with examples and then end with my conclusion.
If you go to the coffee shop with your father, mother and grandparents you are bound to feel time running very slowly. This might seem a contradiction, but no.
Your speed as compared to your elders is definitely faster and the amount of knowledge about the proceedings at the café that you process is definitely more than them and so you are at a higher pace than your interacting surroundings, i.e. your parents.
In the same background if you accompany your girlfriend, with whom you are head over heels in love, then you are bound to feel time running away faster than expected.
This is not only due to the fact that you are involved in something very passionately but there is also a deeper reason behind. When you are the one more in love and you think the girl has more options than you and can also change her boyfriend, then you try to outthink her, which I must inform is not so easy when confronted by a pro.
Your mind will run slower than you require it to. You will want her to think slower than you but her pace will remain constant, in turn making you feel the need to speed up things in your top floor. This is when you encounter the second case.
There are unlimited such cases through which I can illustate this hypothesis.
For the moment though.... take care..

Experiences...

I put the key into the lock of my room in the only 5-star hotel in the new city.
I smelt something fishy in the silence of the corridor. I was about to enter when I heard a knock on the neighbouring door. I turned to see, when the door on my other side burst open and a man wearing a fish costume jumped out in front of me and started reciting verses from the Bhagvat Gita. I took out my friend’s lighter from the left pocket of my shirt and tried to dry the fish man to death.
He spread his hands and with a shudder clenched his fists, the action spreading his small fins and making a noise like a pig.
In fright and in splits of laughter I took out my Sword of Tipu Sultan knife and was about to tear to shreds the orange in my right hand when the porter asked in a loud enough voice if I would need his services to unload any of my luggage at the present station.
I spit fire through my eyes and asked him to meet me at the next station for that.
He spit the same fire and mouthed a beautiful adjective for me.
I took some air out of the Air-Pillow under my legs and put my rotten smelling apple out of the window of the berth below me.
I felt comfy enough now.
I took out the Parker Pen out of the right pocket of my pant and wrote the words ”Open Sesame” on the rock door of the cave. There was a huge sound and the cave door fell down on the lion which was just about to pounce on the cubs of a lioness that he was thinking of dating.
The event exposed to me the naked expanse of the gigantic inner auditorium. I observed, awestruck, the series of chairs and the huge stage in front. I started searching for the chair with my name or my examination ID number. I remembered innumerable such tests which I had crossed, half prepared, half confident, tensed, relaxed, enjoying the experience, simultaneously dreading the immediate future.
There it was, written on the rosewood table in front of one of so many bamboo chairs… my name in yellow. I closed my eyes.
The wincing pain in my hand brought my attention to the honey-bee sized mosquito reveling in my blood. I snatched my newspaper from the hands of a co-passenger and swat the pest to death. The pleasure I derived from the act is inexplicable. Being an avid follower of Gandhiji’s principles, this act of revenge bringing me pleasure seemed a contradiction in my character. Neglecting such spiritual thoughts I glanced out of the window… trees were running back from my destination. As much as I liked a particular tree, it would run away from the scene all the more faster. One particular tree caught my attention so much it deserved to be recorded for future references. I filled my eyes with its beautiful flower filled picture and closed them.

Strange story my life this Part-2

"Where were you going? You seemed in a hurry. You jumped in front of my bike and the brake failed. It wouldn't have happened if the brake hadn't given away. I had the bike serviced just a few days ago. These mechanics.... huh ."
"Can you give a 100 rupees?"
"Err.. . yeah...... why?"
Stare1 ("What the....?"Straight into the eyes).
Stare2 ("Don't you know?").
Stare3 ("Give them to me now, and thats an order.").

I gave her a 100 Rs note. With a passing victory glance, she got into an auto and disappeared into the city.
I stood for a few seconds cursing myself for having lost a mindbattle to a girl again.
Again? Yes again. Many had already taken advantage of this guy's soft nature.

I reached office late. Messed up big time in my appraisal discussion(I called the boss a lazy guy who put all responsibility on me. He had discussed that taking more responsibility would help me go up. Ha ha, as if I agree.. ). Postponed my birthday party for the umpteenth time(They said they don't want it anymore!Cool then....!!) Did no work all day and stared at my office crush for just long enough for her to realise this and give me a "You're dead!" look(another moral loss!).
I lost all the games to Sagar in Urban Assault(was killed everytime), and failed to greet any of the senior guys on the floor.
Went home late, after being caught up in heavy traffic which had come to a STOP due to some jerks fighting it out at the center of the road after having already hit each other with their cars.
Found out Mom and Dad had gone out for a dinner plus second show outing and told the watchman to tell me to eat out.(I forgot my mobile at office)
Well........ that was when and how I decided never to get up early again. No sir. Never.

Strange story, my life this.

On one busy day in November, I was going to my office. Mid-way, finding out there was a huge traffic jam ahead, I steered into a narrow by lane, a characteristic of Hyderabad loved by twp wheelers and equally hated the car wallahs.
That morning was actually not very normal. I had woken up early & thought I would start up my dream routine from that day, a routine which included an hour of exercise, 15 minutes of meditation, 5 minutes of pooja, an hour at the guitar classes, half an hour of useful reading and a delicious breakfast at home and of course some spare time for unexpected things like a special edition in the news paper etc.

I woke up around 5:00 am & had managed tto do all the planned things by 8:30.

Leaving for office on Dad’s activa( Dad took a day off that day) I had one of my favourite songs on my lips. Singing all the way to office I as habit of mine I really enjoy.
So when I took the by lane I was very happy.
My routine had gone as planned & I was singing well that day.

A door opened from the left side & a girl ran out in front of my activa.
I had been serviced just a week ago but the brakes weren’t strong enough to tolerate my 90 kgs along with its 150 kgs. The obvious happened.
I braked hard enough to break the brake wire and crashed into the female. Without the delay of even a second, she rained abuses of the most premium quality on me.
My initial reaction was one of concern for her injuries (which weren’t there), which turned into a surprise, then shock, then anger.
Interrupting her I said, “I don’t know Telugu”, which stopped the deluge of filthy local language from…. the most beautifully carved lips I had ever seen.
My focus now shifted to the structure of the person standing before me.
5-6, 5-7 height, dark hair, hazel eyes, perfectly carved eyebrows, round cheeks and a little chubby, cute look to the face. Her body: right out of a beauty pageant.
The dress though left a lot to be desired. A dull grey suit (salwaar-kameez) with a black chunni and bathroom slippers for footwear wasn’t exactly the dress combination to do her justice.
“What the hell do you think you are, Michael Schumacher?” Her voice reverberated in my ears, the pitch, almost piercing my left eardrum.
I parked the activa near the electric pole and gave the I-know-there’s-nothing-serious-here-but-you-just-want-to-create-a–scene smile.
People gathered around as her voice crossed closed doors and windows.
Housewives looking for some morning masala joined the abuse fest.
My initial reaction which was no more than a faint feeling of concern for her and my office timings, started to shape up into something I hadn’t predicted, expected or the least, was prepared for.
Before they could have their fill off me, and stone me to death blaming me for the rape of the innocent girl abusing me (a crowd in India is the most potent, volatile and mindless weapon the world knows) I picked up my phone and started talking to Mr. Vijay Reddy, Superintendent of Police.
That was the best name I could make up. It had to have Reddy because the Chief Minister of State was Rajashekhar Reddy, I could at least feign some allegiance.
A loss of interest spread over the passers by and the joiners. The crowd started clearing as fast as it had gathered. I love India.
My call ended as abruptly as it had started and I was about to start off when the girl walked up to me and asked for compensation for her injuries.
Her voice had mellowed down, her face calmer and wiser. A distinctly strange feeling encompassed her face, a mix of anger, helplessness, guilt, pity, relief.
I started to feel this wasn’t actually an accident, and the veins in my stomach started tingling. That same feeling when you go to an exam half-prepared, praying to God, the other half doesn’t feature in the test.

I read her face expressions. They gave me a hint which I couldn’t decode. After all the commotion and drama she wanted more!
I gave her a stern, wry look. It seemed to work. Two gentle droplets of water flew down her round cheeks.
Of all the things in the world, I have never been able to show indifference to one thing, the tears of a woman, right from Kindergarten to Graduation and now, beyond. My heart melted.
The words came instantly from me, “I am very sorry. Are you hurt?” The weakness in my voice washing away any strength I had feigned, in front of a woman as beautiful as her.
She saw my face, and instantly realized she could press for her demands. I in the meantime sensed this woman sensing this and yet could do nothing but show my vulnerable self to her.