six degrees of separation

It was over a nice lunch that she choked. A new acquaintance in a new city was narrating a story of a boy he had heard through somebody else. A boy who was labelled a loser. A boy who apparently jumped from a tall building with the intention of ending his life only to survive and cause more trauma to people around him. The callousness of the narration hit her hard. She listened without blinking. Scared that the welling tears might just give way. Trying desperately to swallow the knotting lump of hurt rising at her throat she chokes. The spicy lunch went bland. She wished for some chilies she could bite her pain into. Restrain, she has learnt is a great virtue. Pushing down her lunch she went through the motion of niceties. Oh yes the lunch was super. The chicken with basil was amazing. This was one of her favourite restaurants. No, she was too full for dessert.

The hail storm on the way home, numbed the sensation a little. In silence, she reflected on the day she had almost lost him. When he gave in to a friend’s dare to walk on the parapet of the nine storey apartment’s terrace. He was his parent’s golden child. Topper of his class, he lived his exceptional talent with humility and grace. He played four different instruments with equal ease and had a voice that could break hearts. She wanted so much to hear him sing Desperado strumming his guitar lazily as he had done many a morning at home. Why didn’t he let her record his voice? It's just a shadow. Keep me in your heart instead, he had said. Over the next few years, he triumphed in his own quiet way amassing material success that most will only dream of. When he died suddenly without a fuss in the quietness of the night, his bereaved parents decided to donate everything that he had to a trust on condition of anonymity.

His only flaw had always been his fierce loyalty to his friends. But she knows it wouldn’t have broken him to know they thought so little of him. He would have probably smiled and said, Let it be, Didi. Their limitation isn’t their fault.

I met Mathew on my first very day at work. New-office-nervousness gnaws me like a manic itch as I watch the rest of the office going about their business and pretty much ignoring me. I am not one of those who takes to a new place like fish to water. I am, if not cold, standoffishly silent in the beginning. And yes a bit shy too.

Suddenly, a warm smile and a head full of curly hair. Good morning M’am. Coffee? Wow! He is holding a cappuccino with a letter 'P' drawn on the white froth. How did he know? I am still amazed. He just smiles broadly. From then on, Mathew and I have got along like we have always been friends. He became my lucky mascot. No morning at work begins without meeting him first and sharing a few words. I have rarely met someone happier or with a warmer smile. And yes, he speaks English with no trace of any 'MTI' what so ever. Soon he became my poster boy for what Customer Service is all about.

 

This is his story. Mathew was left at a church in Mangalore when he was about 18 months old. He doesn’t remember his family and was brought up in the orphanage run by the church. Mathew is also partially autistic and was diagnosed with major impairments in basic social relationships, limited imagination and extremely rigid patterns of behaviour. He has no formal education and has been trained by the Spastic Society through whose rehabilitation program, he found work as an office assistant. I stumbled on his story a few weeks after I met him, when I proposed moving him to a mainstream admin function. Apparently, he has a history of violent episodes which disqualifies him from ever being given larger responsibilities.

But somewhere, I feel all of them have got him all wrong. His benefactors, his doctors, his trainers, his family, even. If one looks into his eyes, one can surely see the genuine human being, that the rest of us can only hope to be. Live Long Mathew and keep making the world an awesome place for people whose lives you will touch!

A day like today...

reminds me why I love Bangalore! The sky is a halo of luminous grey. The unending stretch of cumulonimbus threatens to pour but doesn’t. The air has the caressing nip which is just right for a light woolen.

This beautiful day would make you wish for a long drive in an open vehicle and cuddling up to that special someone. Or stay in bed warming in a cozy hug and wishing the day never ends. Sigh!

It is also a day that makes my mom suddenly worry about, what according to her, is my erratic meal timing. To seal the argument in her favour, she promptly packs a breakfast of whole wheat bread and baked beans with onions and fresh coriander leaves as garnish. My work mates polish off the sandwich and now want the recipe.

Incidentally, I am still on a high from last night’s dinner which I had cooked. Stir-fried veggies with lemon grass and prawns and mushrooms in red curry. My efforts ended at two-course, thank you! For dessert, we had fresh strawberries with vanilla ice cream. Dad liked the stir-fried veggies. Ro loved the red curry though it made his eyes teary. My mom liked both. Honestly, I screwed up the red curry and over cooked the veggies but well I never aspire to be a chef of any repute. However, for someone who cooks once in about two years, I was glad I remembered how to hold the ladle. And thanks also to the one who not only gave the recipe but also followed up at every stage of the culinary creation.

today's view

entrapped

It’s raining again. Wild drops cascading down the curved glass creating interweaving hasty streams of lurid ecstasy. She longs to touch the tangled mess of the wet rush but her fingers meet the coldness of the glass wall instead. The torrent runs free outside her reach leaving dancing shadows on her fingers. Isn’t it you who chose to live inside…safe in your bubble? They taunt her. No, but I want to be with you…wild and free! She cries. Sorry, too late. We don’t have the time now. And they leave her standing by the glass wishing she was someone else.

dilemma

The good thing about staying alone in a hotel room is that you have the TV remote all to your self.

The bad thing is that with the rush of choices you suddenly don’t know what to watch!

right @ this moment

someone is reading James Herriot in a cold airport

someone is writing a poem that doesn't rhyme

someone is watching the rain by the window

someone is having seafood at a fancy diner

someone is drinking beer in a noisy pub

someone is missing someone dear

someone is fighting heartbreak

someone is suddenly lonely

and all waiting for dawn

It rained.

A few drops first

while I was picking vegetables.

I watched

as they made muddy lines on my dusty xing.

Drove home

with drops caressing the windscreen

threatening more.

Then it poured.

The drops turning

nonchalant and cold.

As I stood by my window

grey sheet

muddy street

Tomorrow’s sunday.

pest control

I have been traveling cross country in my singular person for both work and play. I am equally at ease with the idyllic calm of a vacation paradise, the murky pollution of the metros to the confounding obnoxiousness of our small towns. There is absolutely nothing that will change my unperturbed state. Not the horribly delayed fights, cheating cabbies with no sense of direction, check-in assistant who gives you window when you specifically ask for aisle seat, security lady who feels you up with glee, hostess who despite your explicit request wakes you up to ask if you would have vegetarian or non vegetarian meal, pesky co passengers who unapologetically ask for your refused share of airline food, hi-tech bath fixtures of hotel rooms that leave you dumbstruck, TV remotes that compete with a missile launcher in complexity, Nothing bothers me. Except the men.

If you are a woman who travels solo, then you are already aware of the perils this species pose. So far no antidote has worked. Trust me I have tried. I don my abandoned wedding band whenever I leave for the airport. I have tried to look dour and dreary. I have buried myself in a book to escape. It hasn’t worked. Usually it begins innocuously enough. ‘Traveling to Bangalore?’ ‘Is the flight on time?’ ’I heard there is an airport strike from midnight.’ ‘How is this book?’ Then comes the obvious ‘You are traveling alone?’ ‘Where are you staying?’ followed by the unmistakable offer for coffee. No thank you. I don’t want to share my book, coffee or space with you.

There’s the on-your face-type, who wouldn’t think twice before asking a completely strange woman ‘Join for coffee?’ ‘Can I drop you home?’ And then there are smooth operators that probe with stealth. ‘I like your choice of book’ Like Hell! For all I know you have a lifetime subscription of Penthouse. Anyway do I look like I care? These subtle types are the most dangerous. Before you realize it they would not only know your birth chart and family tree but your vital stats as well.

Now, the tragedy of this whole thing is that I am not the glam-doll-Page3-wannabe type that one would feel an uncontrollable urge to talk to nor the attractive young things that are ubiquitous at airports these days or the dashingly smart woman executives who are out to prove a point. More often than not I am lugging my monstrously heavy laptop and wearing a grimace for an expression. Unless you are telling me that men of all ages like to chat up scowling members of the opposite sex, please enlighten me on what’s going on.

growing up

“Mommy she tried to kiss me! Soooo gross!!!”

My jaw fell open. He is only seven damn it.

“Who?” I ask struggling to breathe.

“Bhagyashree!”

“And what did you do?”

“Shobhit and I ran to the Boys loo”

“Then?”

“She couldn’t come in because girls are not allowed there”

“Who is this girl?”

“Gross…Mommy! I hate her!”

“Why?”

“She is always after me…”

“So?”

“I don’t like her. Will you please tell her not to kiss me?”

“Just ignore her Sweetie. She wouldn’t bother you” Which I thought was sensible advice.

However, my learned friend would have said “Dude, enjoy it while it lasts!” But I happen to be the mother.

@ the coffee dispenser

Nan: Guys, boss isn’t wearing a bra again!

Pee: What?? I thought I was the only one who notices such things!

Meg: You cuckoo? Everrryone knows it in office…

Nan: Specially when she is wearing a saree!

Ind: Yeah this is so embarrassing. I had a review with her today and her pallu kept slipping…

Pee: I guess she is a feminist…

Nan: Feminist my foot! She thinks she is this hot-bod babe!

Ind: I tried very hard to keep my eyes away but well this was so obvious…

Nan: Yeah! She is showing off her assets….which is sooo gross, man!

Ind: We should give her a Lovable voucher for Boss’s Day…!

Pee: It’s a free country. Besides, our corporate dress code doesn’t mandate underwear.

Nan: Right! Does it mandate joggling your assets?

Meg: Hey, let’s call her Jiggle Jo!

Pee: Maybe we are jealous…

(Nan, Meg and Ind get ready to slaughter poor Pee)

Pee: Think about it Guys, It’s much better to have a female boss who shuns bra than a male boss who loves wearing them!

Disclaimer: All the characters depicted here are fictitious and has no resemblance to any person dead or alive. The writer claims indemnity from all forms of law suits.

carpe diem!

It’s a new day. A new beginning. The air at 6.30am was crisp with a sharp chill that you notice only when you breathe deep. There is no adverse trace of last night’s indulgence or insomnia. There was an exciting freshness in the gait during morning walk and a fresh insight into a relationship that was earlier aborted. It could be because of a number of things. The beer-binge with Ms. Pretty Lady and Mr. Faker Shaker the night before or the perspective sharing till 2 in the morning or Carpenters at early dawn. What matters however, is the excitement of a clean start.

Yeah baby. Let's rock!

Diary

26th Feb 08

9.10AM: Texting best pal as I hit ORR (Outer Ring Road), on my way to the Airport for a 9.50 flight. Shit! Fat chance I am going to make it!

9.45AM: The security lady looks at the boarding pass and smiles. “Apni bangalee?” “Haan! Ami bangalee and I am late!” The PA girl is announcing my name. Last boarding call for passenger traveling on…damn! Of all the times this one had to be on time!

9.55AM: Squeezed between a teen reading ‘Rescued by a Sheikh’ at the window and a burping gent carrying two mobile phones that ring alternatively. Groan! Remember to be on time if you want your choice of seating.

10.15AM: Pleasantly surprised with the in-flight music menu. Dark Side of the Moon. Nothing better to block the burps next door!

10.20AM: Burpy decides to watch a comedy sitcom and laughs loudly. There goes Floyd!

10.30AM: M&B girl wrestles with the climax scene and coffee finally droping the coffee on me. For once I am glad they serve lukewarm coffee in flight. Burpy tries to help and extends his napkin. Before I can say thank you, he burps on my face. Help me God!

10.55AM: Hauling my case to the taxi. Mental note: Never agree to ferry parcels for others and manage only with cabin bag.

11.50AM: Yawn! How can meetings be so boing?

2.00PM: Aloo paratha at a tiny dhaba run by a punjabi proprietor who calls himself ‘Uncle’. I am glad we decided to try this out.

5.00PM: An angry text message from Dad. ‘HOPE ALLS WELL.’ Ooops! I forgot to call home again.

7.30PM: Leafing through books at Landmark@CitiCenter. Decide to pick up a few. Anyway my bag is empty after unloading the parcels.

8.30PM: Meeting an old workmate for dinner. We decide to go for chinese on the 3rd floor. The palate disappoints. Our conversation is solely ex-office bashing. He is someone I call a professional friend. The only thing common is our old workplace. I was never inclined to know more. So by the end of the meal we didn’t have anything to talk about.

9.25PM: I walk to my hotel, relieved. One more peripheral relationship serviced for this year.

27th February 08

1.37AM: Get some sleep! It feels good to be wild. Tch!

6.08AM: It’s the alarm. Damn this is criminal! Snooze for another hour please.

7.00AM: Get up! Now!

9.30AM: Coffee please.

11.00AM: Mid term reviews. Poor sods.

11.30AM: Wake up and smell the coffeeeee!

2.00PM: At Uncle’s Dhaba again. The same aloo parathas. Still tastes yummy.

3.00PM: I need to remain awake.

4.00PM: Airline girl calls to inform that the flight is delayed.

4.30PM: They ask me to summarize the meeting. Why can’t they let me sleep??

5.00PM: Airline girl calls again to inform further delay. Shit!

6.00PM: The taxi guy suggests a different route.

6.30PM: The flight is delayed by another hour. Halleluiah!

6.45PM: Settle down with coffee (yuck!) at the waiting hall. The next lady is working a suduko and canoodling with someone over phone. ‘Coochie, what plan for tonight?’ Coochie????

6.50PM: Inward thinking. Exploring my raison d’etre. The ageless bond of a nameless relationship comes to mind. It ends up worrying a most important person in my life. Press the brake girl, before the other breaks.

7.10PM: Announcement for security check.

7.15PM: A gent cuts the queue and slinks to the spot before me grinning in self glory. If only looks could kill.

8.30PM: Bejeweled Bangalore tantalizes. Snaking traffic glitters like lusty sequin chains choking the city to a slow death.

8.45PM: Finally home soil.

8.50PM: Mad rush at the baggage conveyor. The earlier obnoxious gent stands guarding with his trolley the only gap in the sea of waiting people. How will I reach my stuff??

8.51PM: I spot my case. Request the airline personnel standing closest to help. He pulls out my case and hitches up the handle for me. ‘Oh! Last in first out!’ the pesky gent quips. Goodbye, Loser.

fish tail

I say thank God for the fish! I must have written earlier that I am fish fanatic. Oh yeah baby. I looove my fish! Fried, curried, sautéed, minced, diced, filleted. My friends called me sushi in college. I am particularly partial to fried fish of any dimension and origin served with no distracting garnishing. Cosmic soul mates if you may. The fish fried-just-right and ready for you on a platter and you inch forward with rising anticipation. Will it be soft inside or crunchy? Does it have a subtle flavour or a strong aroma? Is the texture smooth or coarse?

Therefore, Goa has been a dream, specially since Bangalore does disappoint true fish connoisseurs. Talking about Goa, it has this cool south asian eatery called Nation of Noodles, tucked away in Calangute. It’s rarely that one sees so many global cuisines jostling in roughly one square mile area as in Calangute. I am not a classic gourmet, but the falafel and bagel toast was one of the best I have had so far.

There have been many embarrassing moments but the top of the list still is the time I went shopping with my three year old in tow. Forum Mall Westside sale. Choc a block with people. I was rummaging through the foot ware sale while my boy walks up to me holding a ferarri red lacy bra from the neighbouring lingerie section and says, “Mommy's red?”

Sensing all eyes turning, I freeze. Then I try to play it down by ignoring and before I can quietly snatch away his prized possession he turns to the crowd and wraps the bra around himself and says, “For my Mommy”. Giggles are audible. Particularly from the men. I have a strong urge to disown. Finally I appeal to the sales lady who quickly plucks the ‘flame’ from his hand much to his dislike and motions to haul the pesky kid away. Since then, I have never taken him shopping except for regular stuff like candies and colour pens.

The entire Saturday was spent on getting my handwriting analyzed by an expert and later whiling away time with some of the funniest people I have met in a while.

The handwriting thingie (the cute employee engagement girl’s idea to pep up the office) didn’t reveal anything new (stubborn, persistent, rebellious, empathetic, imaginative blah blah) except the fact that I am also terribly sensitive, a fact I dispute vehemently. Damn! It’s not easy being a closet crybaby.

Later the same day, I met up with my best bud and his recently acquired pal. A few beers in Koshys turned out to be a laughathalon of the kind that leaves you smiling even after you reach home. All courtesy a techie from Goa with ambiguous sexual leaning and a straightforward sense of humour that makes him an extremely endearing company. So there we were talking about Hesse and Ishiguro, Goa and Nagaland all wrapped in a bizarre amusement that you can’t isolate or identify yet it settles in a happy cloud all around you.

And then we met a college mate of my pal who, refused to recognize him even after sitting at the table 2 feet away for over 45 minutes till another classmate walks in and smiles a hello. What followed was my pal getting besieged by his old mates, the kindest of whom said, “My God, what happened to you?” Cest la vie. Oh, one of the friends had baked absolutely delicious pastries that we gutted with delight. The drive back home was peaceful. Unlike happiness that leaves you empty when gone, this was strangely fulfilling. Thank you.

I Spy

Three air tickets of an airline to three different cities booked on the same day. The airline boy calls on her cellphone, “Madam, we are holding a booking on your name for Chennai, Mumbai and Goa on 19th. I called to confirm where have you decided to fly on that day?” WOW. This is it girl! Like in gangsta-movies. The pretty mole gives the airport cops a miss and zips to an unknown destination under alias. Tralalaa!

Cocking her right eye brow, Code Name Lithium purrs in her sexiest deep voice, “Ohhh, where do YOU want me to go, Darrling?”

Airline boy mumbles inaudible. Code Name Lithium smiles knowingly. Poor boy. An innocent victim of her fatal charm.

Trrrring. It’s the desk phone. The traveldesk girl calling to apologise for the goof up just when Code Name Lithium was warming up for her next sting. Sighh! The world isn’t ready for her yet. She slides back to her guise of a bored office-goer fighting to keep sleep at bay while waiting for the day she will reveal her true self.

valentine, victory and vermicelli

In the morning, got caught in massive traffic near Forum, Koramangala and decided to take the other route via Christ College which amounted to harakiri!

Result: late at work, rescheduled meeting and a sulky boss.

It’s mid day now and I am still struggling with a presentation and behind schedule for four calls and a dozen emails. But I have already managed to receive a few V day wishes, forward ten jokes, have five cups of coffee and upset my best buddy with my cynicism. (It was the coffee, I swear!).

Oh! If you are wondering about the title, it’s nothing significant. Just random words starting with V that came to my mind while I was fuming in traffic in the morning.

P.S. The cute girl from employee engagement team has distributed red paper hearts to all and asked us to write the name of the person whom you admire the most in office which will be tallied e.o.d. to rate popularity. Groan!

digging for gold

Despite this, we went for Fool’s Gold. My pal had seen the promo poster and thought he loves Kate Hudson in a black bikini. So this was making up for forcing him to grit and bear 1408 last week.

On the plus, beautiful locale. Beaches have never been my hot spot (I burn easily). But sitting in a near freezing theater, the Bahamas were the only thing warm.

Now, the only thing close to gold is Mathew’s hairless chest. Mathew’s personal trainer must be mighty proud since the entire storyline hinges on his shirtless chest! Bravo! As for chemistry, Tom Hanks and Wilson in Cast Away were hotter together than Mathew and Kate. So, you are adequately warned to keep the money in your pocket and not be tempted to buy the ticket. Oh! as for the bikini, there is just that, the bikini, and nothing else there. Grin.

It’s a wet cold typically grey Bangalore morning. Such mornings make her wish for someone special to curl up to with coffee and crossword. An emotional anchor. A polestar in her night sky of uncertainty. She misses a warm smile at waking. An occasional hug. Someone to say, ease up, I will take care of everything.

But these moments pass quickly. She knows a relationship isn’t for her. It has never worked. And a lot of it has to do with her. Her life had many dimensions and a relationship usually doesn’t survive all that for too long. So she has got used to her ‘alone but not lonely’ way and she isn’t unhappy. It’s just the trick of light in the morning that make her wistful.