The Purpose of life

The lights turned red.

He brought the car to neutral and halted in front of a snaking line of cars.

“Oh man, these lights take so long… Darsh and Pratyush would be waiting” thought Aravind.

He was driving his father’s ancient car that he loved dearly and at the same time wanted to exchange for a brand new one. So old, infact, that it had no power windows.

He spotted two urchins begging two cars away. A dirty cloth in hand, they were cleaning the windows of each car – or at least making an attempt – and then asking for alms.

Aravind hastily started pulling the windows up, one of the children spotted him struggling and dashed towards the ancient red car.

“Dammit, dammit dammit… don’t do this kid…” he pleaded silently in his mind…

Too late.

The kid reached the window just in time and started tapping on it. Aravind looked straight ahead – stoically. He had to steel himself.

“These kids are a part of an organized unit – they beg and give the money to their bosses…” Aravind told himself. He was psyching himself.

“But, look into his eyes…” a small voice said.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!!” his mind screamed and he turned the FM volume up to ear splitting.

“Look…”

“They are an organized trained unit!!”

“They are underpriviledged children, innocent like any other child…”

“Please turn Green…”

“They are exploited…”

Tap, tap, tap…

He couldn’t take it any longer. He fished out his wallet – yanked a ten rupee note out viciously, opened the window a crack and handed it to the child.

That was the first time he looked at the child. He looked no older than ten. Dirty hair and grubby hands that reached up to take the note from his…

…and then he looked into his eyes…

Innocent, pure but steady. They looked mature, yet childlike.

A cold chill ran through Aravind as the child took the note and was gone. It was as if his eyes had bored a hole through Aravinds skull…

He shrugged it off as the crazy thinking going on in the background thankfully subsided. The lights turned green.

“Bought eternal peace for ten rupees…have you” his head sneered.

“Ten Rupees, ten goddamn rupees…”

Aravind calmly turned the key in the ignition as the cars behind him tooted.

“Ok, please don’t depress me; I am meeting my friends…”

The night wore on as Aravind, Pratyush and Darsh partied. Drank, made light of life and spent money.

The bill was finally brought. Aravind, in high spirits, announced “I am going to pay…!”

He fished out his credit card and the rest of it he couldn’t really remember.

The next day he awoke bright and fresh with no real recollection of the happenings of the previous night. He searched for his cellphone and dimly recollected leaving it with Pratyush.

“Aughh, dammit gotta drive…”

As he freshened up and go into his car, a box of chocolates carelessly thrown in the back caught his attention.

“What’s this…?” he thought incredulously. Reaching into the back, it was a box of chocolate bars. It was ripped open and a few were missing…

“I don’t remember eating any chocolates…” he thought as he turned the key and drove out into the morning traffic.

“Strange…”

The traffic lights turned red again…

“Ahh, dammit…” as Aravind struggled with the window, it wasn’t cooperating.

“Chocolate wale bhaiyya! Chocolate wale bhaiyya…!” he heard a few squeals of delight as a swarm of kids gathered near his car. There were about six of them grinning from ear to ear, standing silently there and smiling up at him…

…And his memory hit him like a brick. As if on autopilot he reached into the torn box, grabbed a bunch of the bars, and handed it to them

The unprecedented joy on each of their faces brought a wonderful smile and his eyes turned moist as he watched that one particular kid dance with the chocolate bar in his hands.

“The drunk me is far better than the sober me…” he thought wistfully.

The lights turned green and he drove off, but, this time peacefully.

Light

She beckons,
I follow

into the wilderness,
of hopes and dreams...
of untold joys

Into a mystery
that i fear to unravel
oh! the excitement is too much

she waits floating
like a goddess
a lustre of gold and silver

she looks resplendent in her robes
a beacon in the darkness
spreading a light

The darkness is thick
she cleaves through it
i follow blindly
trying to catch up

She flits
from a branch to another
a bush to another
silvery tinkling laugh
making light of the dark

I wonder where from comes the light
as I still grope
and plod through the night

i feel distressed
feel the darkness closing in on me
a despair sets in

My angel,
she looks at me
smiles
and makes light

The Bartender

"Can I buy you a drink?"

She was good looking definitely – no doubts about it…although a bit heavy on the makeup…

Nice round eyes, quick smile and an amenable look about her. A bit plump though, but really cute!

“Interesting…"

“Sure!” he consented.

"What’s your name?" she asked him taking the place next to him

"Andrew…" he replied

"Natalie…" she answered before he asked her – a quick smile to grace the statement – and an outstretched hand.

Andrew shook it.

"What will you have?" – She asked raising an eyebrow in his general direction.

"Well, I am a beer guy!"

"Excellent which one?" – she smiled back           

The bartender looked amazingly bored. This was his last shift and he just wanted to get home and back to his warm bed. Don’t blame him – he was new to the place and it was cold.

“A San Miguel”

“Excellent choice…” I quite like that myself she said smiling

“Is it?”

“And what are you going to have?”  he asked her back.

“A gin and tonic…”

Andrew felt a bit small, why wont he?! – well – this woman was buying him a drink and he had the imagination of a hamster to order beer when she was ordering gin and tonic!

And, obviously he was beyond the point where he could go – “uh, well, can I change the order…?”

The beer was already being filled through the tap.

“Never mind”

They both were sitting at the bar stool – the high ones that you see in so many English bars

She was leaning into the light that was bouncing off her blonde hair.

There were streaks of black in them – or the other way around- Andrew couldn’t figure out …

She pushed back to adjust the chair she was sitting on – it started to tilt.

“Whoops…”

Andrew grabbed her by the back …he had lightning quick reflexes…

“Oh…!” she gasped as she clutched onto his arms tightly.

“Nice grip…” he thought feeling her grip on his muscles.

“You’re quick dah'ling…” she drawled.

“They call me Hurricane Andrew back home!” he drawled back. Straightening her as the drinks arrived.

You’ll like this said the bartender as he peeled lime into Andrew’s San Miguel.

“What the…” he went.

Natalie quickly placed her hand on Andrew’s to calm him, “They do it here…” she said.

He calmed quickly…surprised at her quick intervention

He looked at her again, she smiled at him.

The bartender sullenly retired into the background.

“So, Andy – what do you do for a living? – you don’t mind me calling you Andy – do you?” she raised another suggestive eyebrow in his direction…

“Oh! No – no –no, not at all … heh heh, I am a store manager with a mobile phone company” Andrew said proudly. Then as an afterthought (since that did not sound meaty enough)

“We have the biggest store this side of the state!”

“Oh really?!” she said in wonder.

“How do you manage so many things?” she trilled. I mean, I hardly have any luck managing my appearance.

For the first time, Andrew looked down at her taking in every detail. The alcohol also was quite detail-inducing!

“You look just fine…” he said after quite some observation.

“Thank you so much” she gushed. “I do teach belly dancing you know…”

“Oh really? Wow, I have always been impressed with those women! How in the world do they twist their bodies into those impossible angles!”

“Its nothing really…”Natalie blushed and it shone under the light.

“Cute…” he thought as he gazed at her.

The bartender took away the fourth round of empty glasses. Natalie too was turning a visible red with the alcohol flowing freely inside her.

“So this store of yours…” she said in an excitingly husky voice…

“…How big is it?”

Andrew snorted most of the contents of his beer into his nose.

“M-m-m-m-my…st-st-str-st-st-store…” he laboured.

“Oh…heh heh, its p-p-pretty big…” he loosened his collar,

“B-big airy windows… friendly s-s-staff…g-g-good service…and very pro-pro-professional as well…”

“Poor sod…” thought the bartender looking into their direction.

“Will you take me there…?” she moved closer…

“W-w-why yes…of c-c-course I will t-t-take you t-t-there…why w-w-wont I take you…of c-c-course ill take you…”

“The mans dribbling…ghastly and pathetic” the bartender thought…

“…How…professional…??” she was almost on him.

“Wha…? Oh…very very very…very p-p-professional…” said Mr. Hurricane.

The bartender witnessed cannibalism as the woman devoured Andrew for a full 20 minutes.

“your place or mine…?” she finally asked coming up for air.

“smmmfl..mmfll..gmfll..”

They both exited into the cold night.

“Lucky man Charlie eh…” the bartender heard two old men quipping to each other near him.

“He’s not Charlie mate! He’s Andrew…” corrected the bartender.

“We ain’t talking ‘bout that loser store manager son…”

You

A thousand suns shone bright!

they tore through the blackness
in your mind...
Full of tangibles

germinating an idea - intangible
reminding you...
Of your power

The power of Will!
A will that says...
"You Can!!"

A Power, enlightening!
Blinding to some...
Blessing all in its wake

Destiny shimmering on the horizon
But, your mind dithers
it seeks logic...

Is it a Mirage?
Logic argues...
A figment of imagination??

Be not cognizant of what is!

Dream of what could be!

Only you could find out!
Only you can take the first step!!
Only you...

We live with everything...

We live with hate

We live with caste politics

We live with bad roads

We live with spitting

We live with flooding

We live with strikes

We live with open train doors

We live with a lot of other people

We live with dadagiri

We live with landfills near homes

We live with slums

We live with exorbitant prices

We live with poverty

We live with Bombs

We live with apathy

And yet…

We live with festivals

We live with tolerance

We live with all faiths

We live with guts

We live with glamour

We live with hard work

We live with intelligence

We live with a dream

We live with each other

We live globally...

...'Coz we live with Aamchi Mumbai

Mumbai

She looked lost...
Like a hare in the wilderness,

an expression that she carried in her eyes,
although intense...
Yet lonely, battered and discontent

Could be a figment of my imagination
or real
I just cant fathom

she seems brave
on the face of it

yet I see pain
and untold stories

Real and imagined
of nightmares and ghosts

things that go 'thud'
in the dark ...

... Or worse

Yet i notice twinkle
a hope in them

I see determinition
a will

and I'm confident
that she will remain
triumphant
alive
vibrant!

She

Warm yellow lights bounce off her...
her jet black hair shining in the wake

An Angel come in from the cold
spreading a joyous glow through me

She tilts her head and observes...
A placid countenance

A tender hand that plays with a lock
another that rests outstretched

On the rosewood table that melds
with the flowing satin of her dress

Her eyes rest on me
Lamps -
that speak a thousand words
From afar...
Or near, they enrapture me...
Those limpid pools

Time and space mean nothing
Nothing at all

Her lips part as if to speak...
speak of many wonders

But,
...She only smiles
that, doesn't give away much

And yet softly caresses my heart
As she puts the wine to her lips

And looks on...

I endeavor to speak of her beauty
But words seem awkward and inept

An image is all i have now
And all that i need is she...

Break-up Table

He looked at her quizzically…

She had just made a statement that most guys dread. She looked at him resolutely. He realized that she wasn’t joking.

“Dammit!” he thought

“So close…”

She picked up her purse and walked away from the table. He looked at her walking away with a sinking feeling he knew all too well.

“Don’t go…” he thought in agony. She didn’t even turn back to look at him.

“Bitch…” he thought as he fished out his credit card to pay the bill. He walked away from the ‘break-up table’. That table had done it again!

“Goddamn uncanny!” he exclaimed in his brain. That table had never failed to ruin a relationship. The café he was leaving was called Antony’s. The table he was looking at was the third round table that sat near the picture window of the café.

He counted in his head “Natasha, Megha, Julie, and Jenny…wow!” this table is lethal.

This is his story…

“I have a fail safe you see. Whenever any relationship seems to be getting on me... as in growing on me. I have the ultimate test. I take the girl to the break up table. If she survives it – she can survive anything!!!

So I met this really really hot girl. She had all the bells and whistles in palace! And I mean what bells and whistles – whooo ho ho ho!

We went out to all the happening places.

Monica’s place – the warmest Italian restaurant this side of the city.

The bling – the hottest night club that all wannabes want to get into.

 The shack – an awesome grungy place that takes you back ages.

The Marriot – 5 star elegance.

It was all awesome! I tell you man – it was brilliant. She was awesome, she was cool, she had the entire attitude I wanted and more. She seemed to be the perfect woman who was, incidentally the woman of my dreams as well!

Alas! The break-up table.

I most naively asked her to partake breakfast at the dreaded table in a Saturday night drunken haze. She agreed.

We met up Sunday morning – ok! She was looking most pretty (Given the Neanderthal activities she had indulged in), in a bright blue frock.

She walked up sunnily to the table and sat down. The proceedings started off badly. The chair seemed wobbly to her. The owner came out and put a cardboard carton to right it. He looked at me knowingly and gave a slight smile.

She opened the menu and most grudgingly agreed to toast, egg and some bacon. She already seemed irritable.

“Did you enjoy last night sweety?”

“yeah…(whatever)” she answered nonchalantly.

(grrrrr…..)

I myself did not know how to make any legible conversation.  I sat there looking at her - Pretty sure that the next thing she would say the dreaded words.

She did not – not yet.

She seemed to be bored – “well what’s the plan for today then?” – I asked.

“Ummmm…nothing, I guess…”

“Hmmm…”

I knew it wasn’t going too well. I saw it slipping.

“Well…say something!” I endeavored almost on the verge of tears.

“Ummm, well it’s just this…”

She broke up even before the eggs arrived.

I watched her walk away

“Bitch …” I thought as she did.

“Damn you break-up table!”

Well, shit happens you know. I take it in my stride – well not literally! Cmon!

Anyway, so yeah, she walked away from the table. And obviously I had to start up again.

She was a doe eyed wonder. She was cute and sprightly. She turned all my right knobs. And more.

Well I looked away when she looked too closely at me. I was afraid you see – very afraid.

It wasn’t the best of things to do – or the bravest. But nevertheless it was the only defense I had to her charms.

I knew, she hadn’t passed the break up table test. The acid test of all. I proposed the bloody black breakfast to her. She readily agreed with dimpled cheeks!

Oooo, iw as gonna miss this woman!

And she walked…just like that! Poof! My gregariousness, my might, my intelligence, my physique – all melted away in her eyes.

I wanted to hang myself at that time – no kidding. I even got myself a rope. Only that it was too uncomfortable otherwise I would have followed through.

She oozed intelligence.

She had wavy hair, and wore rectangular glasses that slightly magnified her eyes – she was sexy - or rather her brain was sexy.

She walked with her head held high – fully knowing that she was in command.

Wow! Now that really turned me on.

She would quote Shakespeare, Freud, and Gandhi in the same breath. She was the beautiful goddess of knowledge – who, when spoke, spoke with a thousand times the light of the sun.

She was petite – which meant she was easy handling. That was another boon. Although nothing less than a wildcat!

Pretty soon the test loomed. I made the proposition for the last supper.

She agreed.

She appeared in a simple jeans and tees. She sat down looking at me with the intent gaze that called me a dunce whenever she looked at me.

I would readily wear a conical cap and sit in the corner for her.

She walked!

Damn you woman!

…

A smile – a slight gentle winning smile. Soft lips and softer words that flowed effortlessly. She seemed fine. Nothing jarring about her. Nothing whatsoever.

She sat quietly. All about her there was a serene quietness. I don’t really know what she was all about. I kept looking at her intently.

She pursed her lips in some thought as she ran a finger on the rim of the wine glass.

I kept on looking at her, she did not give any tell tale signs. She kept thinking about something.

“What’s wrong?” I asked half in dread.

“Oh, I don’t know…” she gave a slight smile.

“What…” I smiled back.

She directed her lamps towards me, “nothing…” and she smiled.

The table broke that day.

Sunlight

There was a carpet of green stretching for miles.

He breathed in the pure cool air and set off. Feet crushing the gravel under them. the rhythmic sound almost lulled his senses and the cool air invigorated them again.

Not to mention the visual feast of green stretching out in front of him. He tore the ipod speakers from his ears to let the sounds of mother nature smother him with their attention. The sky had streaks of clouds and there was an orange glow of the rising sun on the horizon.

the gravel path stretched out with big oaks flanking both sides. "Paradise might look a bit like this" he thought in his head. There was no one on the path and the world seemed unadulterated, beautiful, friendly.

His breath started achieving a rhythm as his feet moved themselves by now. Although, they did start feeling a bit heavy after a while.

"Gotta keep this going regularly" he thought wistfully knowing well enough that he wasn't a morning person.

Nevertheless, shortcomings aside he was enjoying himself. his lungs thanked him cacophonously for bringing them there.

The the path meandered through the grassy knolls moving up and down gently, curving slightly to the left and then straightening out. The gentleness of the environ relaxed him even more. His rhythmic breathing continued as he neared the middle point of the park. The lower branches of the trees gently brushed his hair as he jogged past them. As if to feel the presence of a friendly soul and bestow nature's blessing on him.

"Why are not there such unmolested places back home..?" he thought wistfully.

"The best parks look like an apology!"

Up ahead he noticed a young family, a small child running on the grass oblivious to his parents call - the joy of a million worlds glowing on his face. His Father ran after him laughing at how rapidly his son's small legs could carry him.

It was a sight that could warm even the coldest hearts. He stopped jogging and just sat down on the grass. All around he saw - a sea of green met his eyes. Far away in the horizon, the green ended where the blue took over; giving way to ochre and gold as the Sun rose majestically into the sky. He felt the warmth of the Sun on his face and lovingly closed his eyes to the experience. A sweet satisfied smile swept across his face.

Just then he felt a tap on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see the small child standing next to him his golden curls shining in the morning light. He looked like a little angel wanting to play. He was laughing and pointing at him and at the Sun his eyes wide in wonderment.

The child obviously understood and deciphered much more than him. He was enraptured with what the child was trying to convey to him. He would point to him, then at the Sun and say "He..." bunch up his little hands in a fist and touch his heart. It was divinity personified.

His Father came and picked him up asking him not to trouble other people.

"Oh! That's all right! He is so cute! I'm fine thank you." He responded with a smile. The Father smiled back.

He picked himself up, looked at the Sun once more thoughtfully.

"A profound experience..." he thought as he made his way home.


The picture is of 'Ravenor Park' where i go to take a Jog everyday.

The Scourge of Stock Images

Stock images.

Yes - also the name for those ugly images of random people doing idiotic things like flailing arms while wearing office clothes to reflect whatever challenges faced at work. It is singularly ghastly to behold these people performing these amazing acts purely to perpetrate some loser creating a presentation. I would surely much rather prefer images created in photoshop or any other image creation tool. But depart hastily from resorting to the use of stock images.

A brilliant example is what i came across recently when trawling through the website of a big retailer. There was a couple - assumed - smiling widely - nay - almost tearing-their-mouths-up while looking at some electronic device. I could only wonder as to the reason for this display of dentistry. Perhaps they were exceedingly glad at buying a mobile phone together - however - it nowhere near licenced them to bare their fangs at the camera.

But my unhappiness is multiplied when i see another women grinning in the same dastardly fashion while staring into space contemplating where her next meal is going to come from. And that is my grouch!

There are no emotions in stock (sic) photos. It is akin to watching clothes being draped on mannequins. They stand there nonchalantly while men (helpers you sicko!) grab various parts to create just the right pose.

But i Digress.

What i mean is instead of using images of people that look like they walked out of Madame Tussuad's waxworks - use real people - I for one would connect with your message instantly!

Heavy Artillery

“Well, what have we here...?”

He thought for the umpteenth time.

“There’s Shyam, Viru and…” he thought

“… and Rekha…”

“Aaah, Rekha…” and he was lost for half an hour.

Rekha was the new office goddess - to be succinct. She had just joined the floor some days back.

To be verbose – she was the sublime beauty that ruled the hear t of many a men on the floor. Many had laid down their lives willingly for this Apsara descended from the heavens. Raghu was one of them. If he was a cat, it would be his seventh life right now…

Rekha – with the golden tresses (bleached) and never ending eyelashes (fake). With the flowing fingers and creamy skin (original). With the voice that stirs the soul and brings forth a melody that invigorates the senses (debatable).

Raghu’s heart ached.

“That bastard Shyam, I really want to kill him” he thought. Shyam had managed to pip Raghu in wishing her a ‘good morning’ today.

“He even called her ‘Sunshine’ bloody characterless pig!” Raghu was livid.

As is evident, Raghu was pretty much in love with Rekha. So were Shyam and Dinesh (some insignificant guy) and Viru.

Rekha on the other hand favored only Raghu and Shyam to a certain extent. There was a power struggle between the two.

“Viru’s small change. But fun to have around” she had thought socialite-ly once. Work wasn’t boring – no – not for Rekha and pretty many other people on the floor.

The floor belonged to Symmetrix – One of the ubiquitous BPO’s that had many employees in Navi Mumbai.

__________________

Shyam briskly walked in. he had perfected this art from his mentor. His mentor had told him – “Shyam! To be successful and make an impression – you don’t have to work hard! All you need to do is to dress sharply and look important – even if you want to talk to your girlfriend, talk in a highly animated fashion. Like you are discussing the deal of the year…”

He had told him many other things as well but they are too complicated to get into right now.

So Shyam strode in. he did not walk. He did not glide. He strode. Striding was his signature style. He sidled towards Rekha even as Raghu’s eyes screamed murder.

“Hi sunshine…” he began pompously.

“Hmmm…” Rekha replied, her boss had evidently given her work. Or so Shyam thought. He was leaning nonchalantly on the cubicle wall. He could not see what she was up to. But given her fierce concentration – he was sure it was important. He deflated.

_________________ 

Viru had just pinged. “Ah! Viru…” she thought.

“He is so clever with his words…so very entertaining”

She gave a slight sniff…

“A strain on the eyes though…” she smiled with the evil thought.

And a very interesting chat conversation ensued – the details of which shall always be shrouded in mystery. If older folk with reserved sensibilities only read what Rekha was capable of writing on chat – they would balk and those with artificial pacemakers would collapse. And suddenly there was Shyam perched atop the cubicle wall in all his grinning glory.

“And here’s the strain on the brain…” she thought to herself and gave her characteristic little sniff.

Shyam kept grinning for a while and after he realized that Rekha wasn’t going to look up - sidled away. This was not the way he hoped to be treated! After all he reserved his ‘Sunshine’and the ‘the thousand watt smile’ (a.k.a the grin) routine only for special people!

“No matter…” he thought.

“Time for the heavy artillery…” and he sidled off to the nearest shop to buy a gargantuan collection of flora that could inspire Rekha to start a second hand florist business.

__________________

The eyes were watering by now and Raghu had to blink. He was joyous that Shyam was given the short end of the stick, but was highly disturbed owing to the smug expression that now rested on the face of his sidling adversary.

“Evil man has a plan…” he thought.

It took some highly sophisticated sleuth work of making a phone call to the pani puri wala standing outside that Raghu came to know what Shyam was upto. It horrified the living daylights out of the poor soul.

“OMG! She will be his… OMG! She will be his… OMG! She will be his…”

The floor witnessed a profusely sweating and incoherently muttering Raghu make a beeline towards the supermarket. He had to do something!

“Time to bring in the heavy artillery…”

Any self respecting man adequately proficient in the art of wooing women would have easily guessed that Raghu was going to buy chocolates.

__________________

Viru was sweating as well. Rekha had mysteriously stopped responding on chat. This was unlikely. For eons (2 days) she responded with a ‘Hiiiii’ and a smiley. But no more. Viru’s linguistic skills were not upto the mark??

“No no no no no …” he rubbished the thought with a smattering of negatives.

“Time to bring in the heavy artillery…” he thought resolutely.

Viru ignored the gossiping les miserables and swiftly embarked upon stringing apparently similar sounding words together in order to create a poem that could – he thought – bring her back to chat. His heart would twitter merrily even as the window would ping with her lovely messages. Although - sometimes she could be deliciously nasty as well.

If only all this resolve would be directed towards work – Viru would have been floor manager. But again – that’s speculation and a more conducive environment minus Rekha.

Speaking of environment – the rest of the species (less fortunate females) spewed ugly venom whenever they were not within earshot of the girl. They imagined and indulged in downright Neanderthal discussions regarding her character and demeanor.

Viru’s heart ached – he wanted a look at sublimity. He leaned backwards (he could see her cubicle). Horror of horrors – she was talking to somebody on the phone and curling her hair with fingers!!!

“This can’t be – it just can’t be…”

He looked around wildly for his adversaries. Shyam and Raghu were nowhere to be seen. He shifted uncomfortably on the other cheek. She was apparently oblivious to the instant poem that he had created. In fact, she was packing up for the day.

“Oh for the love of God, she’s going without even looking at the poem…”

Viru fired up the printer but then indulged in some virtual coaxing by uttering sweet nothings to it after it wheezed and died on him. He did not waste an instant and pulled out his trusty pen drive to get a printout and show his labor of love to the love of his life.

“Where’s Viru off in such a hurry?!” thought Rekha as a hyperventilating Viru dashed out right in front of her looking very psychotic.

She click – clacked on the floor towards the elevator. There was nobody since she was leaving a little early because of the phone call. (Ahem Ahem)

She descended gently onto the ground floor and click – clacked her way towards the sliding doors of Symmetrix BPO.

From nowhere three vortices emerged with a frenzied energy. One looked like a bedraggled bouquet holding wilting flowers, the other holding five squelched chocolates and waving them about in an aphrodisiacal manner. And the third waving sheaf’s of paper with literature on them adept at wooing cows.

She smiled kindly at all of them even as a Beamer pulled up near her. Dinesh (the insignificant guy) stepped out it.

“Guys, meet my fiancé!” she trilled merrily - Again giving her characteristic sniff.

There were three loud pops

Hanuman II

A tense silence hung in the air even as the dying fire cast myriad shadows on the trees beyond. Hanuman sat still although his body was taut, the gun had begun to feel a little heavy now. The night was cool yet he felt awkwardly uncomfortable.

The stillness was deafening. Hanuman heard rustling in the undergrowth again. He focused. And, then the fire died out.

With bated breath he waited; the next few seconds were anguish. Nothing happened.

An owl hooted far away.

Hanuman lowered his rifle. Everything seemed quiet. The rustling in the undergrowth had stopped. Puzzled he got up and put his rifle on the ground. Unsheathing his knife from its holster, he made his way towards where he thought the noise came from.

He squinted in the moonlight; there was nothing that seemed out of order. The leaves seemed undisturbed and the twigs as if they had fallen right off the trees. Everything seemed perfectly normal.

Questioning his faculties, Hanuman returned to the camp.

The others were rising. There were more important things at hand. There was a caravan that was headed towards the palace; having enough resources in it for his brothers to last for days to come. And, there was not a moment to lose, it would be heavily guarded, a strategic position would be ineffective if the timing was not perfect and all his troops were not in place.

Tehmul came running. A lightly built buy of fourteen, he was quick on his feet and nimble to the extreme, only Hanuman could rival Tehmul in his agility. He loved him like his own son.

Tehmul was panting from running hard - "They come..."

Hanuman cast an eye towards his troops, they were milling around, all of them waiting for his instructions. He gave a low whistle and the men quickly stationed themselves at premeditated positions.

The area he had earmarked for attack was located on the oft tread path that the Englishmen used to ferry goods. It was located in a clearing that was a respite from the dense jungle. The clearing was surrounded by hills on all sides with sheer walls. This is where Hanuman stationed his men for a surprise attack. The bad light and mist would be a silent cover to the attack. The enemy would not know what hit them.

He and Tehmul were themselves perched atop a cliff that faced the clearing. They lay hidden amongst some bushes where they could see the path emerging from the woods.

The lights of the caravan shone through the trees. It made its way slowly. Tehmul saw the scout approach into the clearing; he was atop a white horse and was holding a lantern.
Hanuman was getting up. He had selected the spear much to Tehmul’s surprise.

“It feels just right…” he answered Tehmul’s questioning look.

He took three powerful steps and heaved the spear into the air his muscles rippling from the strain.

There was a whoosh of air and the spear disappeared into the black of the night. A moment later it found its mark. The Scout dropped limply from the horse - that bolted frightened.

Hanuman was already making his way down the cliff in a flash. An unsaddled horse would have the Englishmen swarming through the jungle in no time. He was running through the shrubs his eyes riveted on the   creature that was bolting wildly.

Tehmul watched as Hanuman drew parallel to the horse and gracefully caught his reigns even as he swung over the running horse to calm him down. He spoke softly stroking the white mane of the Beast.

“Quiet my dear, quiet…”

The animal fell silent. Hanuman understood animals better than he understood humans.
Nature - his Mother had taught him many things.

“Kali is most kind…” he thought to himself looking up at the star spangled sky. There was a low hoot which he recognized as an all clear signal.

He made his way to the caravan where his men had done a tidy job, Tehmul at his side.He made a quick headcount, something was amiss.

"Where's Macchindra?" he growled. The others looked around.

"Check his gear, he should be here!"

A sinking feeling gripped Hanuman's stomach as he recalled the event earlier that night...

To be contd..

Hanuman I

It was a thought at first.

A slight tingling of the nerve that manifested itself into something larger as time crept by – Violence; it seemed; was a part of him now.

He had seen his mother shield his sister from her father, crazed with madness and liquor, he used to batter his family every day. As he grew older – he realized that It was more of his shortcomings that their father vented on his family. He was supposed to be the provider to the family – instead he was a failure. The failure to do anything worthwhile led him to bouts of anger and rage. That were vented on the family.

It was most unfortunate. He sat on a log, lost in thought – wisps of smoke blowing around him. The beedi was a warm reassurance in the cold dense jungle. The cold metal of the rifle slung around his shoulder was another. The others slept peacefully. But the cries of his family while their house was burned down by the local goon were enough to haunt him for the rest of his life. It had jarred him out of his sleep on more than one occasion. This had caused him enough anguish, he had not slept since then unless fatigue would completely overtake him and he would crash suddenly. This had earned him the nickname of Hanuman by his brothers in arms.

He looked at his watch, only an hour to go – he thought.

The jungle had become reassuring now. It was always the jungle that reassured hanuman whenever he was disturbed or angry. He would escape the severe battering of his father and run away to the jungle to try and escape from life itself.

A strange calmness enveloped him as the hour drew closer. It was familiar, he was aware of his senses being in a heightened state as the hour for action approached. Years of living in the jungle had attuned his senses to even a slight shiver that was out of place. The jungle could be your worst enemy if you didn’t respect it – it would finish you. But, if you get to know it better – it could prove to be a trusted friend. He would always tell this to youngsters that were freshly recruited.

And a friend it was – hanuman heard a twig snap in the silence of the night. It was ever so slight that an untrained ear would have hardly noticed. But, no – not Hanuman. Nothing escaped him. He quietly swung his rifle towards the noise even as he stealthily picked himself up off the log and knelt down on the soft earth in a firing position. The Beedi remained in his mouth - a reassurance.

The fire crackled and hissed as Hanuman wished he was sitting behind it. Anyone approaching could make out his outline. Or anything.

There was no other sound, the hissing logs that were nearly consumed by the flames and Hanuman’s own breathing – which was steady. He was ready. Ready for whatever was in the vicinity.

But – nothing happened. There was no further sound. The fire was about to die out. Hanuman realized whatever was in the shrubbery was waiting for the fire to die out. If that was the case – it had to be an animal…

To be contd...

Incorrigible !ndia

Indians are a racist lot.

There's is so much of dislike going around everywhere. Especially in today's world, seems as if people can't stand the sight of each other. I wonder why. taking a small example, my landlady does not like the tenants staying a floor below her. Says they are too 'banagalored'.

I retort in my head saying "where are you from then -  Bedforshire?!!"

Its as if there was an undercurrent of dislike that flows wherever i look to - i mean, its appalling. If i was to close my eyes and put my finger on the political map of India (the white paper thingy with the states drawn in that we used to gt in schools) I would have another race/religion/ethnicity/language/caste that was diametrically opposite in ideology to it (read: bloodthirsty lutes at each other's throats)

Be it the folks from Gujarat (or wherever they are from) called as 'Gujjars' or honor killers from Haryana - all of them are cuckoo in their collective heads. there seems to be no room for level headed people anymore.

"park in my lane - will you?!?!??" a club to the head and the argument is sorted out in a most sordid fashion.

brawn it seems - has taken over the streets in its most pathetic state - mob violence.

When i was younger (and less discretionary) i was witness to an incident in Delhi (pronounced: Dilli) that has a name now - road rage. A scooterist , an endangered species to begin wit, was hit lightly by a Maruti 800 from behind.

Now, we all know that loons with half a head drive scooters. And, these same loons when they do land some money buy the Maruti 800 - which incidentally, is a take-away box with wheels attached.

So, it could be easily construed as an incident where a person of the same community hit another in a random act of misjudged timing. Say your sorries and make way for traffic with out a ruckus.

But, no! - this incident has economic undertones - when i look back at it - it was a case of "tere paas mere se jyada paisa hai, AUR TUNE MUJHE MARA?!!!" The scooterist quietly got down, proceeded to remove his helmet and use it to bludgeon the poor guy sitting in the 800. And, you thought helmets were made to protect people. Hah!

We live in unfortunate times - i have to say. So unfortunate that; not a day is spent by where you don't have to navigate your life through marauding morons with verbal/physical clubs.

The divide is so yawning that there has to be a mediator in every transactory act. This mediator can be best identified by the smug expression on his face and the satisfied smile that he gives you after he has successfully managed to deliver results. A rare lot - they are to be coveted in any unfamiliar territory with utmost care. They will get you where ordinary mortals couldn't and make sure you have the necessary resources to manage things thoroughly.

But, that is not a sure fire solution. You are still stuck in hostile environment. the adage goes "if you cant beat 'em, join 'em". I decided to adopt it when i came to Bangalore for the first time. I tried learning the language but it sounded like a series of garbled abuses thrown at cowering listeners. Not, that my own mother tongue - Marathi sounds any different to the uninititated; i quickly abandoned any effort whatsoever to learn the language and adopted the one language that is gladly accepted and understood nationally - English.

And, it worked - in fact for 2 straight years i have uttered only 2 words of the local language -

'Kannada Gotilla' (i Dunno Kannada)

Unfortunately, for the locals its a matter of pride - I picture a Raj Thakery hopping up and down blowing smoke through his nostrils. The case is similar here as well.. Heck - the case is similar anywhere in the sub continent. Punjabi's will heckle you, Bengali's will look down upon you, Bihari's will kidnap you and hand you over to Assamese who will behead you - bit not before making you dance by trapping your legs in bamboos, Gujarati's will straight away swindle you, Maharashtrian's will beat you up for trying to work in thier city, so will Kannadiga's , Andhraite's will gather together and bitch about you and Tams will talk to you as if you were steeped in their culture, then realise that you aren't one of them, relieve you of your money and make you feel worthless because you aren't from their great country oops - State.

I love my India!

P.S. - Relax - its for fun. Take it that way :)

Radha Rewind

She was just finishing the word document that her boss had dumped on her. This was increasingly becoming the norm with her boss. It was a rainy Friday evening.

Oh! how she hated him.

But, what she hated more was the fact that she did not have a sympathetic ear to talk to. She felt the loneliness around her magnified by the absence of that someone whose shoulder she could take support on.

And the sham she had to put up for all to see - God! it was too much!

The world had relegated her to a role which was 'a successful working woman' - sans emotion and fiercely competitive. She had to play the part. Shakespeare's quote of the world being a stage rang true in her head.

People would shy away from her, taking a look at her profile and and her aspirations.

She felt as if no one understood her.

The document she was working on stopped responding.

"Goddamn Word... hung again!" she thought exasperated.

In a flash of anger, very characteristic of her, she shut the laptop with a loud thud. That drew curious stares from her co workers.

"Go f*** yourselves!" she thought in her head. It must have shown on her face because the nearest guy staring at her hurriedly swiveled on his chair and dove back into his excel sheet.

She stalked out of the office and snapped at the evening security guard. A small voice inside her said otherwise but it was vehemently sidelined by what she was now.

She got into her car and noisily slammed the door shut.

"At least this is enjoyable..." she thought to herself sourly.

Flipping on the radio; she squealed out of the parking lot and into the mainstream suburban traffic.

"God must be a five year old, five year old's are sadists" she thought angrily.

Approaching the intersection, she was supposed to take a right turn home. Realizing that she'd never explored any other route from office - she decided to take the left. It seemed clear of traffic as well.

"So what if I'm half an hour late to home - not like any one's waiting!" she thought to herself gruffly.

Flipping ABS off - she speeded up on the lone stretch of road. It was a beautiful night. The moon was shining down on the wet road. It had just rained and there was  no one on the empty stretch of road. The milestones indicated that she was headed away from her home. But in her current state of mind - she was least bothered.

She kept on going, stepping on the gas. the tires began squealing in the corners as she took them at higher and higher speed.

"More performance.." she thought to herself as she flipped the air con off and rolled down the window.  This was her mantra in life - more performance - at any cost. The beautiful draft of wind that blew in the car cabin invigorated her.

But that did nothing to lift her mood up which was still sour at her boss. Life it seemed had been unfair to her. Her parents had paid more attention to her elder brother, not that he was an idiot. He was doing pretty well for himself in the States.

"Well, he had been sent there by Dad" she thought unkindly.

"otherwise he would have been an electrician or something"

"Couldn't he have spared enough money to send me as well" she thought angrily. The speed of the car picked up even more.

Her thoughts floated to the promotion that her colleague Naresh had just got.

"Bastard hardly works - keeps staring at me - bloody lecher - and gets a promotion. I know i work more than him - I KNOW!" she slammed the steering wheel with her hands. they hurt.

"I should have been a man - I would have torn this guy apart..."

"Why don't I just die..." she thought painfully.

There was a loud noise from somewhere behind her. For a second everything seemed fine...

And then, the car careened wildly - fishtailing on the wet and slippery road at high speed.

Realizing that a Tyre had burst, she fought with the car to regain control - slamming on the brakes - she forgot she had turned ABS off - the wheels locked up on the wet road. The car was an uncontrollable mass of metal traveling at high speed.

She was frozen solid with fear - as she saw a turn in the road. And a bright light engulfed everything...

"You asked for it..." she heard a gentle voice,

Radha could not see anything - it was too bright, she was squinting

"What the hell..." she thought to herself.

"No, not Hell technically. Not yet..." the voice answered reading her thoughts.

"It'll be pretty soon if you keep up at it..." continued the voice.

"Who...what...what the f***..." she was completely disoriented.

"My, my..." the voice said -

"We are grouchy - aren't we now..." 

The voice was getting a bit irritating now.

"Who are you?!" 

She finally shouted.

"God..." 

The voice said simply.

"God?!!!" 

She almost screamed.

"Yes" the voice said.

"Whats with the light?!! I cant even see you..." she picked up an arm to shield herself away from the light - only to realize she didn't have one. She looked down horrified to find no body .All she saw was a shimmering ethereal bluish - black wisp of smoke floating around where her body was supposed to be.

"Its called a soul..." the voice answered reading her thoughts.

"Listen dude..." she snapped...

"God..." the voice interrupted her.

"Yeah...whatever, and turn the darn light off!!" she was hysterical. There was a loud click and the bright light was off. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw a five year old kid with curly hair approaching. She recoiled in terror.

"Yo..you..you are God?!?!?!!" she was hardly able to get it out.

"The child gave a cute naughty smile. he was sprightly and had long silky hair. Fair and well built he came close to Radha. Radha floated away, her smokey body was turbid in appearance.

 The child suddenly turned into her Boss, and then into her father, and then into the security guard.

"STOP IT!!! PLEASE!!!" she was on the verge of tears. Or, within context, welling up water vapor.

"OK, OK.. i thought it would be a cool stunt. But do you get my point?!" the security guard asked. The voice had the same benign quality around it. It seemed to have a calming effect on her. She felt light as well - which felt strange.

"What point??!" she asked puzzled.

"Well, that I am everywhere! Your boss, your father, the security guard you snapped at this evening. Heck - even the imagined five year old..." the voice said.

"Are you showing off??" she asked pugnaciously.

"Look, i gotta wrap up here sweety. So be with me OK? I haven't got all night" the voice was still benign but there was an element of testiness in it now.

"OK..." she said meekly.

"Right! So, you have been dissing me for quite a while now...correct?" the security guard posed a question to her.

"Yeah..."she shrugged.

"I am not going to ask why because you have been telling me the same story for a million years! See, the plain and simple reason for your suffering is that you're being nasty to people."

"That's horseshit!" she exclaimed. And checking herself  "I'm sorry".

"Exactly my point, who in their senses would say 'that's horseshit' to something God's telling them?". the security guard rolled his eyes.

"Not many...and...I said, I am sorry" she said in a small voice.

"Wrong! all of you all" the guard said exasperatedly ignoring her apology.

"You'll are just plain mean to each other all the bloody time - and then say I am doing this! You think i have the time?!?!" he thundered.

"I gotta save humanity from dolts like you, and there are lots of them; billions in fact; everyone of you is a dolt on some level..." the guard looked pretty calm - surprisingly.

"Well, I am sorry..." she began.

"No, no, that's not good enough - Do you know - why you have a bluish-black smoky appearance?" he asked.

"No..."

"Because you always keep thinking dark despairing things!" he exclaimed.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yeah, be positive baby..." his voice softened. He continued.

"Listen, i really have to go, but remember, keep praying. And, stop dissing me heartlessly. I really don't like being called names. Not that ill do something nasty in return, I just like you too much..."

he almost finished...

"Oh yeah, another thing, when you pray - ask for what'll be good for you, not what you want - because you're just plain stupid in asking for the right things.." he smiled broadly. Just looking at the broadly smiling security guard made her feel warm all inside her gaseous state.

"Be good sweetheart...everything will fall in place..."

Before she could react - he stuck a hand inside her Smokey self. The smoke disappeared instantly. There was a loud click in the background as everything was engulfed in the same bright light.

She woke up as usual to the ringing alarm. She eyed the wall clock lazily. It was 8 a.m.

"What a weird dream" she thought hazily.

 "Heh...God - it seems..." she guffawed in her head.

She groggily made coffee and turned on the news. Her brain seemed stiff, almost zombie like.
There was a to-do list stuck with a magnet on the refrigerator.There was something scribbled on it with crayon. She took a closer look and squinted through glazed eyes - It had only two points
1. Be good
2. Pray
The handwriting looked like a five year old's.

"Must be the next door neighbor's son..." she thought stupidly.

She took one long swig of coffee and proceeded to spit it out all over the kitchen counter as she saw the date flashing on the ticker of the news channel. 

Friday 21st May.

P.S. - Due respect to 'Bruce Almighty'.

Miles to go before i sleep...

There is something amazingly therapeutic about travelling on highways and expressways.

The constant hum of the engine offset occasionally by a pothole or two, the changing scenery whipping past ranging from beautiful highlands to grassy plains and everything in the middle - all of them breathtaking.

It's more about enjoying the journey than reaching the destination. The utter pleasure of flooring the accelerator on an open stretch of road is indescribable, especially when you have a 2.5 litre diesel engine waiting at your disposal with bated breath.

Now, every journey, however short - should be taken in utmost comfort. Otherwise, its just another point A to point B travel trying to pinch some pennies in the process. Also, disturbing the individual alignment of your backside.

To address this issue -you have the awesome SUVs.

The Innova is a case in point - although it does not really qualify as an out-and-out SUV, it also does not deserve the tag of being branded as a people carrier. It sits, ensconced somewhere in the middle - and that middle is gargantuan. Calling it huge would be an understatement - It is cavernous!

And - pretty fast for a rock formation.

The 2.5L engine belts out enough thrust while making the loudest grunt possible to propel this rhino out of signals and right ahead with the Skodas and the Honda's. It is surprisingly agile for its girth although there is enough body roll during cornering; to encourage any 5 year old's system to give up their recently had lunch. That said, the comfort is excellent. Its like leaning on an American. Thick and loud!

So, enough about the vehicle. That's not what I'm talking about (not entirely). The countryside with the breathtakingly rolling hills and windswept roads is mesmerising. The lane markers zipping past under you is almost hypnotic. Not to mention the pleasantly sudden strains of a Kishore Kumar suddenly appearing out of nowhere on the FM that wasn't catching anything while in transit.

Another extremely indulgent aspect of road trips is the roadside dhabas. These are a brilliant concept probably spearheaded by Punjabi's and truckers (they are not the same, clubbing them is just coincidental) who know what to eat when on the road. 

Or, it also could be the hunger that makes the most averagely tempered meal taste like manna. The customary taaaaaall glass of lassi or buttermilk (depending where you are in India) after finishing a most satiating meal is the right punch line to every food possible (yes, i am a glutton). Hitting the road on a content stomach is equal to a well fed army covering ground on a war footing.

Ok - taking stock - Food, nature, vehicle - Oh yes! company!

Traveling with the wrong kind of of people could easily amount to near death experience out of boredom.

If the company you keep believes in contemplating in the true nature of things, and, what mankind is doing to mother nature etc etc, please push them out!

And, if there is chatter going around that sounds like an incessant cacophony inside of a rain forest and makes the vehicle sound like its on loan for the mumbai zoo - throw these buggers out as well. The key is to select people who are the right mix of both (damn, i sound like an HR manager!)

The 'right' kind of company is essential in enjoying the true value of the journey. Getting caught with the wrong people is horrible - trust me! 

For instance - let us say you were travelling to Ladakh - you would not really be looking for your Maasi to accompany you with her eldest daughter and son in law who have just been married; and; whose last trip taken was their honeymoon -  2 years ago. (you WOULD pass the dark tunnel to the other side with angels saying "I told you so...")

Alternatively, you would not be caught with your craziest buddies on a trip to Vaishno Devi. The kind of buddies with whom you have spent some really memorable times. Times - which, when you think back - you realise - That was so goddamn stupid!

Good company is relative. So i am not going to take a call on what good company should be. But yes - I can give discretionary services based on input factors!

That said - I do believe taking intercity road trips - heck - even a jaunt to the city outskirts is amazing. Clears your head and makes you put things in perspective. Personally, i have always thrown caution, tension, responsibility, Time etc (any of the deep dark depressing things that come to you when you grow up) to the wind.

As i said, very therapeutic and uplifting.

A Journey

People were filling up as the plastic air hostesses started announcing how glad they were that i had chosen to fly their airline.

I smiled. same old BS. Who thinks we are glad that these painted mannequins are this way? I looked away at the airport lights in the distance shimmering away. It was a wonderful although balmy Friday evening as the plane filled up with a myriad cast of people of several ages. Most of these were business travellers who were in Bangalore for some work or some high profile meeting judging from their suits. The air hostesses graciously took these suits off these folks, all well practiced. the people on the other hand
thanked them a wee bit grudgingly.

There were others, professionals like me who were returning to their homes from the IT capital of the country. Others were typically a bunch of people who had made their reservations some months in advance.  This group was chatting away merrily about the latest release and the latest gossip on the block.

I had as usual got the aisle seat and that meant being hit by the hefty luggage that passengers carried into the flight to load into the overhead compartments. The seat next to me was still unoccupied. The window seat had a chatty auntie that was virtually stuck to her phone. I shuddered to think of a conversation with her. I prayed fervently as well that she too wasn't looking to talk to me. The middle seat - It had to be a person who had no torso to fit into one of these seats of the budget airliners.

The very last person to enter was a slightly built man with flowing hair. He was wearing a white shirt and black trousers, very text book. He looked from seat to seat trying to find the number that he had been allotted and his gaze finally settled on the seat next to me.

"Great" i  thought. "no chick this time as well.."

He made his way through the aisle and requested me to move, a slight smile on his face. I smiled back, I'm sure my smile wasn't close to the warm smile that he gave me, I was still expecting some red hot bombshell to come sashaying down the aisle.
Instead it was uncle. It smarted!

He settled in comfortably into the seat. It seemed that he took the shape of the seat given the calm expression on his face. No one could have been so comfortable in his position. I was in no mood of conversation, he nonchalantly looked at me and made an attempt to fish out the newspaper from the seat back pocket.

The air hostesses closed the door and made the mandatory flight safety instructions. I looked around with a bored expression on my face. Even the air hostesses were uninspiring, most of them would look hideous if their faces were scrubbed clean of the plaster.
I wanted to get through the flight and home quickly.

"Going home?"

I did not want to talk.

"Hmmm..." I thought that that response would stop the flow. It signified that I acknowledged your question, but please don't take this forward. Didn't work.

"I am too...", he said.

I studied him, I had not seen him very well earlier. He had silvery hair and gold rimmed spectacles. His eyes were slightly blue, a calmness came over me.

I had no response. I turned back. It was strange to be sitting in the aisle seat of a crowded  budget airline with a gaggle of people chatting away, their decibel levels far from quiet and suddenly feel calm.

"You seem discontent...disturbed.." he continued as if reading the expression on my face.

I turned to him again, i did not want to speak right away. I just looked at him with furrowed brows. "What makes you say that?" I finally asked.

"I have increasingly noticed this in the younger generation." he continued ignoring my question.

"Let me guess he said - only child, living away from parents in a big city. Looking for emotional comfort...Profession demands certain sacrifices now. Does it not?"
He put the question to me.

My silence was getting a bit out of hand. I was a debater in my college and this dude was bowling a googly.

"Yes..yes.. yes..."  - I stammered; the third 'yes' totally gave my discomfiture away. He settled into reading his paper in with a satisfied smile.
I too looked away, this man sent a queer feeling in my brain. I did not want to explore it right away either.

"But isn't that a bit presumptuous?" I questioned him, trying to revive the debater inside of me.
"That's your ego speaking." he replied quickly.

I was taken aback. his bluntness hit me.
"What?!" I asked him incredulously and a bit hotly as well.

"Yes." he replied in his calm manner that was getting a bit irritating by now.
He did not offer any explanation. Rather, he went back to reading his paper. The auntie in the window seat that I had completely ignored till now, was sleeping. My - 'what?!' - made her fidget in her sleep.

The Air hostess came with nimbu paani. She looked bored, the evening flights did this to most of the crew. I picked one and thanked her for it. The man next to me took nothing and smiled at her warmly enough as he declined. She smiled back and it looked genuine!
In fact she smiled at him longer than she did at me (which smarted - again). Even her tired voice picked up after that and she seemed more jovial. I was surprised - would be an understatement.

He gave me another look and dove back into his paper. My discomfort knew no bounds. Here was a man who seemed to know more about me than i would rather let on; sitting right next to me, having some profound impact even on the plasticine air hostesses as well.

I deduced (wrongly) that this was some cocky guy who thought that reading 'The speaking tree' everyday in the newspaper allowed him in making such high and mighty statements. That mustered some confidence inside me and i spoke.

"I think you are the victim of a generation gap." I must have looked foolishly triumphant as he gave me a condescending smile and looked at me with the same warmth that he had shown to the air hostess earlier.
It did feel nice, looking at him smile benignly like that.

"Akshay..." he began, "a generation gap is with respect to the worldly likings of an individual. Deep down, we are pretty much seeking the same thing - All of us."

My mouth was open as i sat gaping there clutching at my seat belt. How in the bloody wide world did this guy i had just met know my name.

As if reading my thoughts, he continued, "Oh! and by the way, I read your name on the boarding card sticking out of your pocket."
I shut my mouth instantly. If this guy could calm you down with his smile, he could unsettle you with his words as well.

The flight took off. I never liked this part, the climb, it made me feel a tad bit uncomfortable. He on the other hand nonchalantly turned to the sports section. Disinterested he folded it up and put it back in the seat pocket as the flight banked towards the north.

"There is a truth and there are fabrications." he continued after the flight stabilised and the seat belt sign switched off. It's as if he never had stopped speaking.
"The truth is that we are all, you, that air hostess, this lady sleeping peacefully next to us, all, are looking for stability. much like this aircraft."

"Come to think of it, isn't our life like this aircraft's journey? You take off, unstable and shaky. Then slowly you settle down, still shaking from time to time, there is turbulence hitting you -"
and as if on cue, the plane shook buffeted by winds outside even as the seat belt sign blazed on again.

I did not like turbulence, everyone had a slightly concerned expression on their faces. Although, the plane quickly stabilised again.
"But calmness always returns..." he finished.

It sounded like a discourse; but given my situation, I was in rapt attention. he spoke softly, a slight northern accent to his speech.
"You only have to believe that there is someone at the front of the airplane. controlling it. the pilot. A guide that knows exactly where you need to go.; It might not be a straight line, it may be zig-zag; it may even take time..."
The speaker crackled and the pilot spoke about a flight delay due to air traffic conditions over Mumbai.

"See what i mean?" he looked at me enquiringly.
My speechlessness continued.

"You will finally reach your destination. Believe me. But sitting in your seat fidgeting over the delay - instead of enjoying the view out  of the window isn't the best way to arrive now, is it?"
he looked at me questioningly over his spectacles. I looked out across the snoring auntie and sure enough the moon was blooming through the clouds in all its grandeur.

"It could be worse, he said lowering his voice conspiratorially. You could probably sleep right through it..." he said motioning to the chatty auntie.

I could not help but smile at that, it felt like a prankster who was setting a lighted matchstick in sleeping persons toes.

"Relax and enjoy the journey." The pilot spoke on cue. I looked at the man, he gave a knowing smile as he fished out the in flight mag as he put the newspaper in.

I was lost in thought for a while as the pilot announced our imminent arrival. The man was, by now, asleep with the mag resting on his chest.

I had created a million questions on my mind by this time, but none of them really mattered in the simple analogy that he talked of.
"How do you believe? How does anyone believe? Is there proof? What about fate? what about destiny? What about life's unexpected twists and accidents?" i wanted to retort...

The plane landed and the lights came on. I waited for him to get up. I wanted to ask him all these questions. But now the people were all awake and the chatty auntie was back to troubling her poor cellphone and any unfortunate relative on the other end. I kept quiet not wanting to draw attention to what i thought was a weird enough conversation.

We deplaned and walked the tarmac over towards the waiting buses, I could not ask him over the roar of the engines of a passing Boeing - I boarded the bus that seemed pretty full. There was no place for him, i wanted to get off this bus to talk him about what I had in mind - I only caught this bit as the doors closed,

"there are no accidents...
You just have to believe."

He waved as the bus pulled off and another emerged to pick the rest of them up.
I did not see him at the baggage terminal, i waited for a while and then walked away - profoundly unsettled but a tad bit wiser.