Passing time at the airport

It was nothing unusual. The flight to Chennai was once again delayed by 1hr. and 40mins. As I stood cursing the "low cost" airline, I was desperately thinking of ways to while away the remaining hours. The Bangalore airport was definitely not well-equipped to ease the frustration of harried passengers. Given the number of flights that get delayed, in-house pubs or strip shows at the airport would flourish!! ;-) In fact, airlines would witness soaring sales with passengers using these "low cost" airlines only to pay visits to the airport!! And then, if you saw someone dressed all smartly, with a briefcase in hand, checking his watch nervously and hurrying to the airport, you'd know why!! :-)

But at the moment, not even the airhostesses of KF airlines could keep me entertained for the next 2hrs. Grabbing a cup of tea, I settled down in one corner and pulled out the Angels and Demons to keep myself occupied. As I was trying hard to turn the last few pages, a couple made a rather noisy entry and sat down well within eavesdropping distance. An angel and a demon indeed!!! Swanky kids with hair streaked and dressed like the mannequins outside Levi's stores wearing the most fashionable of dresses. "...Mocha on Khader Nawaz Khan Rd. tonight?...". Alright, these guys are heading to Chennai, I concluded.

I slammed the damn book shut and concentrated on their conversation. Not an elegant pastime, but definitely an entertaining one. They were talking excitedly and every word from the guy's mouth seemed to amuse the girl!! Definitely not hitched, but surely on the verge, I thought. Colleagues at work, or more likely, friends from college.

Soon, the boarding announcement was made and I found myself right behind this couple in the queue. Pure coincidence, I promise :-). This time, I didnt have to eavesdrop. They were loud enough to wake the dead. "Whisky's my favorite..." he said. "Ohh..Do you drink? I didnt know", she replied sounding surprised. What a blunder, my dear man. Not the wisest thing to say to a girl you're travelling with. But, he maintained his composure. "Oh yes. Preferably johnnie walker..I'll show you the next time we hit the pubs!!" Either a novice or a richhh bugger, I thought as I supressed a smile. "I prefer tequila shots...I hate carrying the glasses around, you see." and they broke into guffaws. How delightful, I thought.

As I entered the aircraft and walked past them, I noticed that their animated discussion was still on, inspite of the noise of the milling crowd. Bum chums indeed!! I slept through the journey and thought I had seen the last of them. Thanks to some quality entertainment provided by the couple, the long wait at the airport had turned out to be quite interesting after all. Now, this.....is the way to pass time at the airport, I thought, with a triumphant smile.

However, as though an exciting climax was still pending, they were standing right next to me as we waited to collect our baggage [Coincidence once again. Seriously!!:-) ]. The guy pulled out a fancy cell fone and said, "So, give me your new number. Your local number I mean. I'll give you a call tomorrow and we'll meet up with the gang." Quite a gang it must be I thought as I heaved my bag off the conveyor belt. And then it happened. Once he was done keying in the number, he seemed to hesitate for a moment holding the fone in his hand. And then, he asked casually, "Do you realize we havent exchanged names as yet? I'm ABC. What's your name?"..."Yup, right. XYZ. Pleased to meet you", and they started giggling!!!! :-O My face must have registered shock, for they turned and looked at me for a second before walking away...together!!..Now, THAT....is the way to pass time at the airport!!!!

south paws...

Thankfully, the world, nowadays, has come to acknowledge the presence of these "anomalous" people who seem to do things the left way (well, "the right way" is for the less fortunate ones;-) ). However, alienation cannot be eliminated for these people who are born into a naturally biased world...the world biased against the left (no pun!!)
Though there is a well known justification that when a person's right side of the brain dominates, then the person tends to be left-handed; there is no clear reason why the right side of the brain should dominate in the first place for certain people. There have also been speculations as to the reduced life span of left handers and their susceptibility to disorders such as schizophrenia and delirium (what crap!!), but none has been substantiated as yet. Researchers have also observed that there are more left-handers than right, with an IQ over 140 (how true!!). Curiously, left-handers have been at the extreme ends of the spectrum, with Albert Einstien, Napoleon Bonaparte, Julius Caesar, Alexander the Great on one end and Jack the Ripper, Boston Strangler and so on, on the other.
It is well known that, historically and socially, the left side was always looked down upon. The words that were used to denote the "left" in languages such as Greek and Latin, were synonymous with evil, sinister, clumsy, unwieldy and so on. However, the right always symbolized good, skill and dexterity. It is not by coincidence that the word "right" always has positive connotations and usages such as: the right(correct) way, in the right mind, whereas the poor "left" is more often used as in "left out" and "two left feet" (the bloody wicked right!!!)
Although the percentage of left handers at any point of time has been as low as 10-12%, there is some consolation in the thought that the process of natural selection has not eliminated left-handedness, as has been the case with most anomalies. This proves that left handers are probably not weaker biologically, but have been made so because they have had to adapt themselves to live in a right-dominated world.
One such element that discourages the south paws mentally, is the unwanted attention that they draw in a gathering. Well, it used to be embarrasing back then, but has now become a routine. "Ohh...You eat with your left hand!! Are you left-handed?"...."No, its actually a hobby to eat with my left hand in such gatherings", I'd want to say.
Personally, I was faced with a lot of problems as a kid, when I started learning to do things. My kindergarten teacher used to grab the pencil from my left hand and plant it in my right, and the fantastic explanation that she gave was that she thought I was "ill"!! My parents had a tough time teaching me to do stuff the "right" way!! I used to write from right to left, mark a tick the other way and even turn the pages the wrong way. Those who have not had the chance to interact with left handers wont even know that such problems even exist..."Ticking the wrong way??!! How can you even think of it?!!!". For left handers, writing from left to right, especially on a right arm chair, can be one of the most difficult practices to adapt to, because it would mean that the writing hand would come in the way of the eye and the paper, and hence a clear view of whatever was being written, would be impossible. Consequently, a leftist's handwriting (including mine) is usually so ugly that it looks almost enciphered!! My school never had a left arm chair and in those exams where we had to use the arm chairs instead of the desks, I would find myself sitting at right angles, turning my whole body to the right so that the paper could be on the left side of my body!!! And obviously, at the end of the exam, I would find the supervisor tugging furiously at my paper while I'd be begging him for a few extra minutes!!
Not just these desks, almost every device that we use is handed. Whenever I used to pick up a pair of scissors to cut some paper, I'd wonder why the damn thing wasn't working for me. After a few frustrating attempts, I'd throw the useless device and simply tear the paper with my hands. Left handers, unfortunately, have to put up with these right-handed scissors and knives, right-handed keyboards, numpads and calculators(numbers are from left to right), right-handed cricket gloves (was quite a hassle finding left handed ones for me), right-handed computer mice (wow!! what a pain it was, initially!! But, I still think I can do better at Quake3Arena with a left handed mouse!!) and so on.
Once, my bro-in-law had bought a new golf kit. I had never played golf, but the clubs were so pretty that I pictured myself swinging one of those gleaming clubs majestically, and staring fixedly into the distance(like those golfers do!!:-) ) , with the club over my shoulder, glinting in the sunlight. So we rushed to the practice range only to realize that those clubs were right handed!! My heart sank and my poor bro-in-law had to run all over the place to find me a left handed club. Finally, I had to settle for a rented lousy, old, orange-colored, half-broken, left-handed club :-((
It is surprising that for such genuine causes, there are no groups that represent this minority community and demand that all institutions and organizations be equipped with some basic left-handed devices and that the accessibility and availability of left-handed gadgets be improved by way of an increase in the number of stores that sell such devices. And yes, fight for some reservation as well, in view of the trauma that we face in this hostile world ;-)
However, inspite of such shortcomings, I'm sure my fellow south paws will agree that it does feel special to be left-handed!! The momentary stir and confusion when we arrive at the crease with the bat in our left hand(what happens after that doesnt matter!!:-) ), the brief murmers and stares when we catch the pen or the spoon with the left hand and the comments of some people, "How do you do it with your left hand? It looks beautiful". All these remind us that we're different, in a trivial but special way. Poor bourgeoise right handers!! ;-)

An incident...

A week ago, a friend(Apu) and I were exiting Forum late in the evening and were headed towards the coffee day right opposite it. On the aisle meant for auto rickshaws and pedestrians, a sizeable crowd had gathered and most of the passers-by were watching the scene from a safe distance(as usual). We, being no different, craned our necks from the periphery to catch a glimpse of the proceedings.
A father, a daughter about my age (a rather pretty and voluptuous one) and a little girl about the age of 12(presumably the second daughter) formed the prosecution, with the defendant being a young romeo with "rogue" written all over his face, and none other than the auto walas comprised the jury. It didnt take us much to deduce that the lover, unable to resist the pretty one clad in skirt, must have decided to extend his hand to show that he was a man!!
Though unacceptable, it was nothing unusual. So we were about to leave, when we noticed that the little girl was weeping!! Curious, we strained our ears to listen to the gossip. It was then that we learned that the bugger had actually felt the behind of the kid...the kid which was probably too innocent to even understand what had been done to her and was probably weeping because of the commotion all around!!
Stunned for a moment, I looked at the poor kid and then at the dad, who was screaming desperately at the bastard, "What is her age? What is her fucking age?"...
Well, thats Bengaluru for you!! Not even a kid can walk peacefully with her dad. Well, I was about to compare the lives, the culture and the crime rates in cities like Bombay, Bangalore and my sweet home Madras. But then I decided against it for it would draw more flak than appreciation...!!

Working out a work out plan!!

I have always been great at planning, and my workout schedule is no exception. The planning stage went on for five years, but somehow the project got shelved with every attempt. Fate, it seemed, was against me all the time!! In my first year of college, my bhawan was the farthest from the health club...and closest to the institute. Nahh..that was just an additional piece of information...Acads were strictly off my list of engagements, especially on a holiday...a five year long holiday!!! :-) Now, coming back to the predicament, my motivation took a severe beating when I realized I had to walk all the way for a work out. Was it worth it? I would tire by the time I reached the health club and hence wouldnt be able to work out to my fullest!! Well, you could argue that the whole idea was to exert yourself, one way or the other. But, it would be absurd to shell out 75bucks a semester to the health club, so that I could exert myself by simply walking all the way to it!! I could do that even without paying the club!! (Its important to be logical even in the most testing of times!! Besides, it was quite an amount back in college, considering there were other..lets say, intoxicating expenses...). And so it was decided that I would wait another year and pray that I be moved closer to the health club...and needless to say, if I wasnt registered, there would be no reason to walk all the way to the club early in the morning and turn back!! So, the best available option was to sleep till midday and the accompanying benefit was, reduced intake...yaa, i believe in getting to the source of the problem;-)
My prayers were answered and I was moved closer to the health club in my 2nd year. But the second and the third years were way too hectic to even think about working out. The summers were too hot to venture outdoors in the mornings and the winters too cold to even get out of bed!! Thats life...there are always obstacles!!! Besides, my attendance was absolutely compulsory (Again, its not what you think...I strictly dont work on holidays!!) at the sky lawns, the IC (the institute cafeteria...dammnn..they made me set foot on evil ground to reach this place!!) and dear old c'not. Not to mention, I had miraculously transformed into a much slimmer version of my former self. This, along with the rising prices of the "holy water", dampened my motivation even further.
However, braving all impediments, I registered myself with the health club in the fourth year. But it seemed that the gods were not too pleased with the decision (ya, you read it right!!..the gods..). On the first day, with pride and a sense of achievement, I lifted the dumbell. But as it brushed past my thigh, there was a loud crunch (nope, not that..am still a man:-) ). I quickly fished out my cell phone from the pocket..and the poor thing had cracked in the screen:(( The ill-omen was not to be overlooked!! From the next day, I promptly returned to my rather peaceful routine of sleeping till midday!!
Fifth year was an entirely different story. Being the last sem, it was important that we spent every minute of it lazing around. We couldnt afford to engage ourselves and thereby let time fly!! All said and nothing done, I had to postpone the project a little further.
Now, part of the corporate world, I'm being forced to see the early hours of the day...something which I hadnt seen in a lonnnng time...9 o clock, 9:30...phew, its insane!!! A good six months were spent in looking for a gym close to my house. And to make matters worse, we shifted houses after those six months, and hence another six months spent in looking for another gym (I told you I'm an extensive planner!!). Its been a week now and I just cant bear to see my body endure such great torture of going through a "strenuous" workout programme :(( I guess, if you wanna be arnold sauce'n'vinegar(I like calling him that), it comes with a price. But, I'm certain that it wont be long before "fate" decides to play villain yet again!!...poor me;-))

The little girl...

The little girl struck the first matchstick against the wall, and cupped it with her tiny hands, as it sputtered and came to life. The darkness was dispelled by the bright, yellow light and a heavenly warmth filled the air. The winter was severe this year and that night was particularly bad. The streets were empty and noone ventured outdoors, not even the dogs. Her feet were bare and her flimsy top and skirt did nothing to keep the cold out. She slowly moved the matchstick close to her feet, careful not to put it out, because she knew there were only two more sticks to keep her warm until morning. Her feet were lifeless; numb and blue from the cold and from treading on the snow. She tried twitching her toes, but they wouldn't move. As she took the matchstick closer to her toes, the snow around her feet glistened in the bright light. The snow!! How she had loved playing in the snow!! How her mother used to wrap her up in warm clothes and sit next to her by the fireplace as they watched the snowfall from the window..."I want to play in the snow mommy...just once", she used to plead. Her mother used to hug her tight and say, "No sweetie, you'll feel cold...You see the top of those mountains there, far away? That's where your daddy is". "But mommy, wont daddy feel cold?" The smile on her mother's face used to fade away momentarily. "Oh yes sweetie. He will...But soon, he'll come back to us. I promise you, he will..." The little girl slowly drifted off into the unforgettable memories of those happier days. She had almost forgotten the pain in her feet, when she was rudely awakened from her dream by a chilly gust of wind. And then, there was darkness...The warmth was gone and she once again felt the sharp pain throughout her body. It was unbearable!!

With shivering hands, she struck the second match stick against the wall. The heat was soothing, and as it slowly eased the stiffness in her limbs, she felt another stinging pain in her stomach. A kind-hearted lady had given her a small cup of rice and some dhal that morning, but she hadnt been so lucky since then. Every time she asked for food from the neighbors, she was reminded of her father. "Never take anything from others, my dear", he had advised her. "But you never buy me anything daddy. You're always in those mountains." Her daddy used to kiss her forehead and say, "Do you see those white mountains there, my dear?", pointing his finger to the north..."There are bad people beyond those. They want to take away our homes. But soon, daddy will be with sweetie...and will buy her everything in the world"..."Cant you bring them home daddy? We can all be together". Her father used to laugh at this and say, "When you grow up into a big girl, I'm sure you'll do it..."......The little girl slowly got up on her feet and pressed her face to the window of the house. There was a fireplace and there were people sitting at the dining table, eating and chatting merrily. Just like home, she thought!!...She watched the match stick, as it burnt the little fingers that held it. And she was surprised that she felt no pain. But she knew that, in an instant, she would be in a far greater agony.

She quickly struck the third matchstick, the last one!! She was beginning to feel tired and sleepy, just like the other night..........A tall gentleman wearing a black hat had taken notice of the little girl, curled up in a corner by the road. And his heart went out to her. He walked up to her, bent over and enquired, "Are you feeling cold, my child? Have you eaten? Come with me and I'll give you some rice". "Will I feel warm, uncle?". "Oh yes, child..you will", he replied with a pleasant smile. The little girl followed him to his house...and to his inner room. He gave her rice and vegetables. That was the best meal she had had in a long time, but she was beginning to feel tired and sleepy. The gentleman touched her shoulder gently and said, "Lie down on my bed, my child. You can leave when its bright and warm." She remembered little after that, and the next morning, she found herself in the snow, by the road, her entire body aching like never before........Sleep was taking over now, and she could hardly keep her eyes open. She was lying in the snow, but strangely, there was no pain in her limbs or her stomach. Only the weariness. Her mother had once told her that, after their final sleep, people would go to a place without pain and hunger. And that it would be filled with warmth and joy. At last, she would feel warm, she thought. She wanted to smile, but she couldn't...She couldn't move. She was looking at the vast black sky studded with beautiful white dots. Giving in to her weariness, she closed her eyes peacefully, knowing that it was a better place that she was going to....

The Wall...standing tall

I take pride in saying that I have been an admirer of this man right from his debut. Practically every cricket follower around, used to ridicule me for my "poor taste" and these discussions would run into hours and I'd find myself up against the whole crowd, trying desperately to prove a point.
"Has he ever shown his worth?", "He's so slow, he's going to be dropped from a test match, like Boycott was, for selfish batting!!", "He's no good for the 50 over game" were the usual complaints. There were better judges of cricketing techniques around me, but somehow they chose to speak ill of him, more often because they didnt believe in him, and sometimes for the pleasure of ganging up against a poor soul, that was wise enough to foresee the rise of one of the best batsmen in contemporary world cricket!!! Lord, forgive these ignorant men!! ;-)
His flawless technique (discounting his relative weakness against leg spin), the ease with which he tackles the most ruthless of bowling attacks on the deadliest of pitches, his determination to make the bowlers pay with blood and sweat for his wicket and ofcourse, his sparing displays of emotion(unlike the former captain!!) are all widely acknowledged and appreciated.
But that which impresses me every time I watch him at the crease, is his uncanny ability to let a ball pass without doing it any harm, and more importantly, to himself. Agreed that its not as entertaining as the flamboyant strokes of sachin or the agricultural smacks of dhoni. But, from my modest ventures with the game, I can definitely say that its not easy to show restraint. When the likes of akthar and lee are pounding on your toes and skull alternately, and then, there suddenly comes a short, wide ball saying "hit-me", where is the time to resist the temptation?(ask sehwag!!) Any batsman will find himself slashing at it wildly, and if lucky at the end of it, will manage a sheepish grin or a tense stroll down the pitch, whispering to himself nervously, "control yaar....Greg tera band baja dhega!!".
But for our man, on the other hand; the Rawalpindi express comes chugging in all the way from the pavilion, straining every muscle and delivers a 150kph fireball with a loud grunt of exertion. In response, the wall simply yawns in his face and lazily lifts his bat to let it pass. It is as though, he has all the time in the world to assess the line of the delivery, to calculate that its about 10 inches outside the off-stump and hence harmless, to recall that there is a bugger at third man, to remind himself that the next in line is the worthless kaif and finally ofcourse....a flash of Greg :-) As my friend once told me, for great people time moves so slowly that they almost know whats going to happen next!!
The only fitting reward for this man, would be the world cup 2007 under his leadership, and ofcourse, the khel ratna. Lets see if he shows some emotion atleast then!!

Of pain and death...

It is indeed a dark topic to start a blog with. But I am no psychopath, a sadist or a masochist. It is by sheer coincidence (thanks to a late nite show of Final Destination2 last nite and a scary flight journey this morning) that I choose this topic as my first post.
So, coming back to the topic, why do people fear death? No..no. This isnt a philosophical question. Infact, I'm trying to approach this logically (to all lovers of philosophy, I dont mean to say that philosophical is illogical!!). What is so scary about death? Is it the love for the people around us? "ohh...what will happen to those who depend on me? what about my sister's marriage?.." ya..ya..agreed. But is that the primary reason?....Or, is it because one cannot enjoy the luxuries of life anymore? No more happiness, no more love and no more BEER??!!! Hmm, well, doesnt sound too convincing. I mean, you wont be missing those or craving for those luxuries once you're gone. After all, you'll be dead!!
Imagine yourself in an aircraft, cruising at the height of 10,000 ft. Suddenly, you're hit by violent turbulence followed by a loud, gut-wrenching noise. And after a few tense moments, the pilot announces, "Passengers, thats it guys. This is the end. We're facing the usual 'technical snag'. Happy landing!!" The aircraft goes hurtling down and you are but a few minutes away from a spectacular end. So what is it that drives you crazy, makes you cry and pray?...I would say, its the fear of pain!!
This is no big revelation, but it is indeed queer to think that these few moments of pain that one experiences before death, is that which is feared the most!!! One prefers to spend 14yrs in a prison cell, than suffer the few moments of pain while hanging from a noose, and be gone...peacefully. So, I guess, most people believe that physical pain is way more painful than its mental counterpart. Else, we would have atleast a million cases of suicidal deaths everyday!!
This makes me wonder, "how painful can death be? And how long does the agony last?". It cant be more than a minute or two. But try sitting in a quiet room and concentrating on the seconds hand of a clock until it completes 2 full rotations, and you'll know how long 2mins can be.
Personally, I dread the idea of running short of breath. I'm sure everyone does, but I'm kinda hyper about it. I get desperate and very restless when I cant get a good shot of air into my lungs. And I think its one of the worst ways to die!!
Imagine that you wake up suddenly to find that you're in a coffin that is barely big enough to hold you. There's absolutely no room to move your hands or your feet. You cannot thrash about, as you would, if you were drowning in water. You cannot clutch your throat with your hands. Not that its going to make you feel any better. But the idea of lying absolutely still, and staring at the roof of the coffin, which is barely an inch from my nose and struggling desperately for air, makes my stomach feel queasy. Come on, I'm in greaaat pain, and all I can do is, lie absolutely still...and cry!!!
This reminds me of a scene from The House of Wax. A guy is captured and turned into a wax doll by bathing him in a cauldron of boiling hot liquid wax!! And next, you see him as a wax exhibit in front of a piano, frozen in the posture of a pianist. His still face looks calm and sports a happy smile. But a closer look reveals his eyes, red with pain and tears running down his cheeks!!! The contrast was chilling...
"He died peacefully in his sleep". I think thats a biggg misconception. I know of a, lets say, a friend who was so weak in her last few months that she could barely lift her plate. And she died of a cardiac arrest...peacefully in her sleep so to speak. Just that her hands were lying by her side, with fists clenched around her earrings, and her earlobes torn apart and hanging loose...now thats something pain can do!!
In my opinion, the best of these..devils..is a bomb explosion. Before you know what hit you, your brain is taking a walk!! So, one has to be fortunate to meet his end in a bomb blast or what??!! ;-)
But whatever said, this agony lasts hardly a minute. So, isnt the amount of fear disproportionate, considering the duration of the agony and also considering that everything ends after that one minute? There is no feeling of guilt, there is no feeling of remorse..nothing after that minute!!
Now, is this what certain training camps around the world teach people??!!!!! ;-) just kidding...