Saturday, December 25, 2010

Jerry Almighty

Jerry my sis’s 10 month old cute cocker spaniel is home these days along with Danny, my sis and their five year old kid, my niece Sarah. He has big hazel eyes, a rotund head and innumerable soft curls on his long ears. Maybe being brought up in an open area in the suburbs of Dehradun has made Jerry hyperactive, maybe it is a “pup thing” but he goes berserk at times running around the whole house skidding and slipping and nipping at things and sprinting anywhere, even into dead ends, at full speed.

The one thing that comes to my mind when I see this old pup is “passion”. He seems to be passionate about everything that he wants to do; at times these are not necessarily things that would earn him the title of a good dog. They wanted a dog as a snake alarm system for Sarah since she plays in the open in a place that is abound with snakes. As luck would have it, Jerry seems to be missing the exact quality that would enable him to do this. The word “caution” does not seem to exist in Jerry’s dictionary. Jerry loves and loves to be loved the family can’t help but give in to his charms, and many a time, his helplessness.

Quite frankly, Jerry would fare better as a mongoose for I know he will behave like one the moment he sees a snake; I pray that snakes keep away from both Jerry and Sarah. I am also quite thankful that Jerry managed not to find the leopard that was on the prowl in the area where my sister lives. In other circumstances he would to invite the pardus to play with him and that would have conferred everlasting peace on the twitchy, restless Jerry. That would have been one messy Tom and Jerry show.

I think Jerry’s claustrophobic in our city because we always leash him before he leaves home and our home is smaller than my sis’s. Walking Jerry is quite an experience. Jerry loves being outside and the moment he is, he transcends into a world of his own. He hardly ever looks up, his nose is constantly on the ground and he follows it like a dust particle in Brownian motion. He yanks and pulls the chain in every direction that his nose forced him to follow. I am surprised at the force with which he pulls me along. He’s a small dog to be generating that intensity of force, like I said, he oozes passion and he follows his nose with the same and when he encounters me trying to stop him, he pulls with every ounce of energy in every muscle of his body. In the beginning I almost fell from the hard yank but slowly understood that this dog doesn’t pull as light as he weighs. He never looks at me, never implores the way he does when he wants to eat, he just pulls as hard as he can, I see he legs neck and back in action trying to break free from the invisible me.

Jerry neither learnt to fear or scare anything. I have heard stories of him scaring big dogs. Witnesses say that the victims are more taken by surprise at Jerry’s haphazard motion than anything else. He seems like some small object that is moving haphazardly and too fast to be clearly visible that they get spooked. Anyway the little zealot’s inquisitiveness once landed his buttocks in the jaws of a bad tempered dog who didn’t give two hoots about the randomness in the universe. My sister turned to be more dangerous of the competition and rescued a confused Jerry from the grip of what would have been a couple of stitches and shots of antibiotics.
Of course Jerry forgets and therefore forgives and I still have to take off with him at the first sight of the ferocious stray dogs in the area before they see Jerry or vice versa. In the former case I doubt I’d be able to outrun the danger and in the latter, the would-be victim is sure to pull me towards the danger in a fury of excitement and inquisitiveness, I therefore am as alert as a dog while walking little Jerry while he’s lost in a wonderland of scents and odours. But I hats off to his ears (or whatever sense) for tonight I saw a dog sprinting towards us from a distance and I am sure Jerry saw nothing with his nose buried in a pile of leaves while I goaded him to run along with me and climb the flight of stairs to my home but no sooner had the mutt crossed under, Jerry sensed the presence of his contemporary and started to whine and pull madly at the chain. He gets too excited on seeing other dogs. Last night I told him to shut up when I got hyper on seeing a big German Shepard cross us and started to pull crazily at the chain to go closer to it. The big dog crossed nonchalantly but then looked at me with a puzzled expression as if trying to say “is this pup for real?”

I see Jerry all excited about life and all inquisitive and eager to explore even while I restrain him with a leash for I know there are places I do not allow him to go for the sake of his safety, I tug at his leash seek cover for him every time I sense danger. All the while Jerry never looks at me! He’s busy doing his thing and I’m non-existent for him. I wonder if I treat god the same way. If one exists that is. Just a silly passing thought on the eve of Christmas. Merry Christmas 2010 every one.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

I remembered you till the time I didn't remember to call. -JSS

Monday, December 20, 2010

Proponents

T’was Sanjit’s B’day and I managed to not call him somehow; I suffer acute and fulminant procrastinitis.

Hashmat came over and we left for CCD-35 to meet Ashish and the others of whom we did not know. I went in the car after my bike refused to start which I later found out was because of the weak battery. At CCD, the others were Puja, Ashish’s son (who still doesn’t have a name), Mayuri and Jason.

After a few wise cracks we got to describing how the year had been for each one of us. My words were egotistical, centered on me, myself and I, how I’d hit rock bottom but risen like the Phoenix etc etc. Hashmat’s were poetic and talked about how he didn’t care much about the days gone by and the one to come but about the present moment; he even laced it with Urdu verses and it sounded nice. Puja’s was about becoming a mother and staying awake and how life-changing the whole experience was. Ashish’s was the same (of course not mother but a father) and also about how he switched his job to work for a not-well-known company (Yikes! I was about to use the word “infamous” incorrectly here), Mayuri’s was also about being phoenix but unlike me, she credited it to the power of God and I don’t remember what Jason said. Alexanderson didn’t say much but was busy absorbing the sights and the sounds around him after he woke up.

Another interesting topic that was talked about was how Facebook usage has been followed by a concomitant decrease in blogging activity and I corroborated this by my firsthand experience. This is one of the reasons that I am writing this post, for I do not feel like writing about this or any other experience anymore and it has mostly to do with my using Facebook. I believe that to want to write about something, something should stand out from the norm like a beacon staring at you in the face. That potential energy gets sapped away in trifling short messages to friends and never builds up enough once you feel that you’ve already talked about it. This post, no matter how insignificant or boring, is an attempt to break that habit of not writing. So although I do not really feel like writing right now, I am.

Ashish also informed us about an essay competition, the prize of which is an all-expense-paid literary tour of England. The details are given on the website www.revelationmovement.com. I am excited about it, not that I think that I have a chance but thinking that it would probably help me read a book or two, since I cannot get myself to read any.

An interesting discussion on God ensued and turned intense and though I remember it being great, I don’t remember the details anymore. Probably because it is 1:30am and I am sleepy but I am glad that I wrote.

Friday, December 17, 2010

When something needs to be done about a lot of things then you really should stop procrastinating. - Jesse S.Samuel

Tuesday, December 07, 2010

Rid(d)er

Afternoon: I fixed my bike
Evening: I thought I’d fixed my bike
Late evening: I’m in a fix here

I dunno what to make of this; was it divine intervention to make me go back to cycling, was it a wakeup call to stop procrastinating for good, did it serve to humble my loud-mouth, was it something to help me slow down and look at my life for once or was just a great script for comedy. I’d like to believe it was combination of all.

Last evening after almost losing my leg to kick starting a bullet in vain, I took a lift half way to my place and then boarded a rickshaw. Things so happened that I couldn’t manage more than 4 hours of sleep in the night. Today morning I boarded a bus to my workplace carrying my helmet. I had to walk some distance from the stop, accompanied by two people from my institute, one of which unwittingly said some nasty things about someone I care for, of course totally oblivious to the latter till I bombarded him with interrogation regarding the legitimacy of his blab. I manage to embarrass him but not without upsetting myself as well.

In the afternoon, I went to check if my bike would start. With a warm battery in the afternoon sun, it took a few kicks to revive the beast from coma. I heard the dug-dug long enough to smile and forget the morning’s incidence. In the evening, I returned to my dug-dugi and kicked again. Something about the way she wheezes that tells me if she’s gonna start in a while or just slip into coma again. She sure slipped back into coma but not without sending my leg into one as well. I decided I’d drag the fat-ass to the mechanic and did so. I reached there only to find the workshop locked and caught up a few breaths to drag it back to the institute. I realized my mistake, I’d ignored the battery water level way too long and in the cold evening, it couldn't even cough a spark into the spark-plug. I asked one of the guards at the institute for water and he offered warm water in an aluminum kettle. As I poured the life giving water into the battery, the PAPARAZZI arrived. My batchmates,seeing my pour warm water into my bike stopped and cracked wise jokes on me

“OMG! If you’d give such love to a woman, she’d keep you happier than your bike”,

“Wow! This thing runs on water? Warm water?”,

“Click his picture! We gotta upload this on facebook!”

“Evening out with your girlfriend eh!, why don’t you both go to a restaurant…err! Petrol pump!”

Sure they clicked my pictures as if they’d seen Paris Hilton’s underwear…or Paris Hilton without one…and then they disappeared without offering any help.

Outside, seeing my ordeal, the rickshaw walas, warming their hands around a bon-fire, were staring at me like hyena’s eye a dying prey. I walked up to them and asked how much they’d charge to take me to my place and I was quoted a price of 100 bucks (I mean come on, it's not like they had to carry the bike as well, it was just me). I walked back showing them my middle finger but they smiled. Maybe they thought it was some kind of thumbs-up.

I walked up to the hostel to the paparazzi hideout and told them to give me one of their bicycles (yeah I didn’t ask, I told them), they offered one provided I get my pic clicked on the bicycle wearing all my leather biking gear. I obliged and dutifully showed them the middle finger and they smiled too. No sooner had a cycled a few yards, I realized that the cycle was too small for me and its seat was made of some material that can be aptly called softwood.

My knees were just an inch odd away from the handlebar at their closest point and my weight was too much for the tyre pressure. I love cycling on my bicycle but this one was total pain and the cycle rode really heavy. As I made my way through IMTECH, whoever recognized me had a good laugh seeing me perched atop a relatively small bicycle and going zigzag trying to avoid the handle hitting my knees.

I heave-hoed my way through the less crowded roads in the beginning but as I hit the traffic I realized that the threat of being mowed down was very real; most motorists were on cell phone and/or overspeeding and caring two hoots about other “lesser” people. On every bend and corner I pedaled on like a freaked out snail watching cars and truck closing in, trying to wiggle out as fast as I could. I missed my Bullet and then later I started to miss my own bicycle which is a decently nimble machine. I watched Bullets going dug-dug past me and I sighed. I then realized that I was way too slow even for other cyclists but then was reminded of the adage “beggars can’t be choosers”. So I was beggars wasn’t I, I’d almost bully-beg-borrowed this tin-can I was riding.

Then something upset me: smoke, beedi smoke on my face, yuck! As if the vehicular exhaust wasn’t enough to pollute my lungs which were working overtime anyway, I had someone shoving tobacco smoke down my windpipe. I instantly looked at the source. It was rickshaw-wala in front of me and there we both were right under the bright streetlights. As more smoke rose and came to me, I looked at his ruffled white hair from behind; the white smoke and the white hair looked queer enough for me to forget about the filth of it for a while. As I strenuously wiggled to overtake him, I started getting a cleared picture of his face. First the ears, then the profile as I looked at the gaunt, heavily-wrinkled, weatherbeaten face of the old man I was mesmerized the thought of somebody painting a face like that or somebody capturing a picture like the one I was getting to see. As he puffed on his beedi in a style that looked so original it could be used as a video-lesson for actors, it seemed like he didn’t need to look up to the traffic to know where it was coming from or where it was going but he kept going without committing a hair of a mistake. His legs and one hand were on autopilot and his face and other arm were lost in the ecstasy of the beedi smoke. It seemed like to him there was nothing to the world cept his beedi; a strangely awesome sight. Then I thought I’d have missed it completely had I been on my bike.

As I crossed pretty women on the road, I, now perched atop a funny looking “nothing”, realized how impossible it was to get them to catch even glimpse of me; a shiny bike does shimmer me into moments of fleeting attention doesn’t it. And after a few such incidences, I realized how inconsequential that need for attention is.

This could’ve happened only on this bicycle for when I’m on my own, I’m concentrating more on racing with the motorized traffic and winning for a while; I realized that even that was a silly thing to do. I realized that all baabu-cycles riders were old men.

Then I found myself on the road right across my alma-mater. I realized that I crossed it every day but never looked at it. This time I was slow enough to spot my last classroom in the dark, I stared at it for a while and then instantly shifted my sight across to the other side to the two palm trees I loved looking at during a boring class and was overjoyed to spot them as well and in fact they did seem a little bigger than my recollection of them; 14 years is a long time.

By now I had gained some speed and was happily swaying left and right as I pedaled down home. It had been quite a while, or had it? I checked the time, it had been 25 minutes since I left and home was probably another 10 odd minutes away at that speed. Just then something bit me on my knee. Some godforsaken insect had probably made its way up there…Yeeooww! That hurt. I squished whatever it as was from outside between the fold of my jeans.

When home was in sight my cell phone began to vibrate, I took the call, it was from Arijit

“so how does it feel like to cycle up to home?” he barely managing to control his laughter. Apparently some nit-wit had updated Facebook about my condition even before I reached home.

“Awesome” I replied. I really enjoyed the ride.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

BEER BELLIES

(Just returned from Mrinal's reception. I'm pretty drunk and I know what I'm writing is shitty but what the heck!)



The brotherhood of beer
it sure sounds queer
invites critcism from all corner
but to me heart it's very near

remember the time
harry was to reach home at nine
but we downed a few beers
and lost all our fears
we sang and we danced
with total strangers all night
with fire we romanced

the brotherhood of beer
do lend me your ear
harry chatty raj n I
drove to morni and got high
in the tiny camp we shaded our faces
in a desert,it sure felt like an oasis
we sang, we joked,
we fought we smoked
snaps without pants
those pictures sure still haunt

the brotherhood of beer
we hug and cry out our fear
Tarun would no longer be single
it was one of the last time that
beer, chikku n I mingled
we cried the past away
we embraced the future so
by the time it was time to say
our faces began to glow

the brotherhood of beer
the awesome smiles we wear
Sanky Anuj n I
we'd cry we'd howl we'd sigh
PhD's difficult you see
love & security's a thing of the past,
and there's just insecurity ahead
and it's all for free
and it's vast
We down a bottle or two each
and we begin to preach
how beautiful life suddenly is
we're soaring like eagles
no one to block us,
we rise we decend
we do as we please

the brotherhood of beer
come and meet the seer
his name's Taran n he's cool
I had it with him and talked of the pool
the one where you jump
and those who wish not to be broke
lie on their back and use the Rai-stroke
God's man he's always high
if he's not on His, then there's
beer on his thigh
thank you for being strong
thank you for never going wrong
Cheers to you n all my friends
let's meet up together with the bottle again

Thursday, November 18, 2010

It's rainin Madonna

The sound of the falling droplets outside remind me of Rain by Madonna, it's been a long time since I heard the song. Remember back in school, I'd play it every time I was home and when it rained. I rate this is as one of her best songs. Yeah! I was obsessed with it at one point of time.
Here's a link but make sure you're plugged into a nice speaker system before u play it to do justice to the melody.
Nice lyrics, awesome music and of course, Madonna's voice-- another winner by Madonna.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OzbhiNl0roY

Saturday, November 13, 2010

BJP-CONGRESS

what a vicious cycle:
We won't create chaos if you stop creating chaos by talking about the chaos the we once created. No one gives a shit about creating chaos in the common man's life.

Sunday, November 07, 2010

Two lines that caught my attention on a Discovery Channel program on Crocodiles

1. As the night drew closer, so did the predators.

2. As the thirsty are drawn to the water, the hungry are drawn to the thirsty

Saturday, November 06, 2010

Friday, November 05, 2010

For Ash Brill

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Like a true Ashleigh Brilliant fan, I say this:
"if it doesn't kill you, it'll make you stronger, though it may also maim you!"
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Thursday, November 04, 2010

Myanmar(red)

I don't clearly remember the first time I heard the name Burma or Rangoon. Maybe it was in the school days in the late 1980s when its name was changed to Myanmar and we kids were confused about how to pronounce it or maybe it was on TV watching that old number "mere piya gaye Rangoon, kiya hai wahan se teliphoon" from the 1949 Hindi movie "Patanga".

Yeah, Yangoon sounded ridiculous after being so used to Rangoon but hey I don't even wanna get down to telling you what Bengaluru sounds like to me!

The name of the country, either one, is derived from the name of the major ethnic group of the land, the Bamars. There are other minority ethnic groups in the country as well and therefore deriving the name of the country on the name of one group doesn't sound fair but hey that doesn't bother me eh, after all mine is a country divided over races, castes, religion, region, colour, sects etc etc...phew! Oh! Gees! there's more but I'll let it rest here.

It's a densely forested country and is the world's largest exporter of teak and some precious stones; yeah that means they are chopping off their forests but what else do they do? It's a poor country with a majorly rural population.

I don't konw if S.D. Burman had his roots here but another person sure does, the 1991 Nobel Peace Prize winner Aung San Suu Kyi is from Burma. At 65 she's as old as my mother and had been under house arrest for more than a decade and a half. Her father Aung san is considered the father of modern-day Burma. Why is she under house arrest? Apparently the military junta wouldn't let her govern the country, in other words, let democracy prevail in Burma because apparently her party, the National League for Democracy was too popular and won 59% of the national votes and 80% of the parliament votes and therefore the junta thought it best to lock her in her house and let her cook dishes instead of brewing trouble for them outside it. I mean who'd give up power like that!

By the way the word junta is not Burmese, it's of Portuguese/Spanish origin and translates to "committee" in English. Military Junta however is a term used to describe Military Dictatorship and there are many examples of these like the juntas of Brazil, Nigeria, Greece, Bolivia to name a few. I guess for some armies, when they don't fight any wars for too long against an enemy nation, they turn on their own governments. Shucks! it's not their fault, it must get really boring to do nothing with all that skill and discipline being wasted.

The Burmese junta however isn't all that well meaning though, did I mention teak in the list of exports, add heroine to it, of which Burma is a major exporter. Huh! but why do I bother, let those who take drugs, take them and die. But wait! Drug addicts are a nuisance anywhere they are, aren't they and those promoting nuisance and earning money out of it can't surely be good people. Well Junta, you're being bad boys by doing this and censoring the media in your country to an extent that nobody in your country will ever read what I'm writing; the internet too is heavily policed. I hate the place I live in for n number of reasons but i can't even begin to imagine what life would be like with my "I want more freedom" mind as a Burmese citizen. Hey I'd in Burma I'd probably be very free by now...free from my body, a spirit roaming in the teak jungles and sniffing poppy plants eh! Nice!

Senior General Than Shwe, is Burma's military dictator. It just came to my mind how uncannily it sounds like the Hindi word for dictator "tanashah". This guys been the big boss for a long time now, since 1992 to be precise. He's weird ok! When the common Burmese folks struggle to procure just enough for their subsistence, Than Shwe lives like a megalomaniac and is incredibly superstitious. Next time somebody asks you to frame a sentence with the word "unconscionable jerk", you know what to write.

So what's with the new Election hogwash in Myanmar?
It's nothing really it's just going to be transition from a military dictatorship to a non-military one. Suu Kyi is still detained and debarred, and other, more than two-thousand political prisoners, these elections were meant to be nothing but hogwash.

So why does the junta need to wash its hogs? Ah! International sanctions you see, there's more to the world that the junta gets so the junta is carrying out a cosmetic surgery to change it's appearance. After all, after the world no longer recognises them, or fakes to not recognize them, as a military dictatorship, they'd start to lift their sanctions. Why would the other countries do that? Aha! Because Burma has something the whole world drools at the prospect of obtaining; OIL!!
China certainly has more money than India to appease Myanmar and it is definitely doing so in lieu of exploiting the Burmese oil and other resources.

I end the article here. With this wee-bit information you can form your own clear opinion and read more on the aspects of this article that you wanna know more about. But the last, and definitely not the least, of the questions that comes to my mind is this, What kind of neighbours are we surrounded (hounded) by?

Monday, November 01, 2010

Goodbye

Goodbye (she used to tell me to never use that word)

She: Take care babu . (1-Nov-10 16:14)
Me: U take care babbus. have a happy life. (1-Nov-10 16:15)

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

leading on and being lead
commotions in this ol' head
jumping over the hurdles
and fixing the errors
I see a new face
every time I look in the mirror

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

des-tiny

Can’t believe the tirade I threw at our society a few days ago on my blog. The inane insults that I’ve have had to go through just to live on for another day and grow up have sure made me irascible.
Most around me will say it was my destiny; I wouldn’t say much about destiny except that for some it is used as a term to justify “move on” for others “walk all over”. I’ll kill you and say, “sigh! He/she was destined to die.” Sure sounds ridiculous but the staunch believers of destiny would say “if I die by your hands then, it was destined to happen”. Sure there’s no way to disprove that.
For me life is about choices; easy, difficult, calculated, pleasurable, painful choices. I needn’t justify the past as destiny. For me it takes more sense to analyze the course that life took due to the choices that I, and the people around me, made. That however seems to be a difficult way to lead life because it requires undertaking a lot of responsibility and answerability. I’ve just found the path, treading on it is difficult but I’m not gonna give up.
When I appeared for the PhD interview at the PGI, way back in 2005, and told one of the PIs there that I was born in PGI, the instantaneous “destiny syndrome” kicked in within me and the PI as well. What a pleasant thought, I’d do my PhD at the same place I was born. Funny how I disliked my short stay in the PGI that I’m glad I never pursued PhD there. In fact after seeing the maternity ward one day I was dumbfound, “THAT’S THE KINDA PLACE I WAS BORN IN? I hope it was less crowded (and a bit cleaner) back then”
Or that I ended up buying the bike I was fierce opponent of. Here’s another one, a nut case stops me in the middle of the road to click a picture of my bike. The stars were just in the right place that I happened to be in that place that night, a place where I’d normally never be seen and at that hour, and that too happened because the clutch wire of my bike broke down. And I’d exchange numbers with this person, something I never do. End up falling in love and somehow the course of her life changes and we’re going steady and undergoing the most complicated interpersonal education of my life till date…and then steadily away from each other.
Or that I made my profile at a wedding portal and a “kind of an” interesting person shows interest in me and I accept her offer by clicking a button, just like I casually had for eight other women who’d shown interest. Then I think its destiny and take the first cheap flight to a city more than two thousand kilometers away from mine to meet her. And the very first night she take me out, the first day that she’s met me, she’s hardly covered with clothes. I have the most terrorizing experience that I never could tell her about how I felt while she was feeling good! But then again, she said that that’s the way people dress around in Bangalore and true maybe I am from a backward place called Chandigarh but what the heck, I didn’t see anyone else dressed up like that in Bangalore either, maybe she’s disillusioned. Had I not believed so much in destiny, I’d saved a good amount of money by now.
Yeah but my experiences have been the kinds I’d never thought I’d get to experience, or even that they existed. So call it destiny, or call it imprudent choices, there's nothing of the past that I wish to change.
It’s time to calculate affordability when time, money and not to forget, a life is at stake.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Those Serpentine Roads

It was another trip down memory lane with her this evening, a short ride through those roads and avenues and those streets from not-so-long-ago yet from the times that can aptly be called The Past. It felt good and not burdened and I didn’t feel that lump in my throat that I did on an earlier occasion. We’re lovers no more, we’re not friends either. Today we were like two free souls that were charting the paths that we moved through in the past. I never thought we could hang around like that. Anyway we were just out for a very short while; took a detour on my way back home and I was late anyway so I had to rush.

There’s this ominous thought in my head (even right now) that I’m gonna break down and start to feel that remorse again, the utter helpless remorse of having lost her. However I take a deep breath and take solace in the fact that if “we” were foolish enough to have lost something that was so dear, we need to pay the ultimate price and not repeat those mistakes in life. True also is the fact that she’s still in there and this space where she sits will only be freed once she goes away, once she’s out of sight, which will be very soon. I feel sad thinking that she’ll be gone soon but I’m happy too that I will finally let her go and gradually her memories will fade (will they ever?). Maybe they’ll just take a back seat and make way for more important aspects of life and more important relations too. I wish her well. I will not let such beautiful memories poison my life.

Speaking of poison, I just watched a guy who got bitten by a rattler on Discovery Chanel. They say a snake can strike out to a distance from half to two-thirds its body length. This one was an eight-footer so it had quite a reach. It dug its big viper fangs just a wee bit into the hand of the guy who’d picked him up (!!). The guy said it didn’t hurt so much for a minute but then when the pain kicked in, it was unbearable and his hand started to swell up. He described it as feeling like his hand was being minced in a meat-mincer. By the time he reached a hospital his system had started to shut down. Medics jumped in to save his life first and after declaring him stable, they concentrated on his hand which had become necrotic by now. His flesh had dissolved and one could see through his hand it was bleeding profusely and the venom was still acting and dissolving more flesh. He was administered antivenin but that could only stop further damage, what had already occurred couldn’t be reverted. Rattler venom can dissolve bones as well; pity the animals/rodents it feeds on, they’re well digested and dissolved from inside by the time the snake starts to ingest them. The medics pressurized him to allow them to amputate his hand but he refused. The video was horrific, he was all needeled with drips in one hand and the other one looked like rotten meat and he was writhing in pain. The docs did the best they could and saved his hand, saved being a relative term. His thumb joint got almost dissolved and couldn’t be fixed in a normal position, and the same happened to his index and middle fingers, all of which are almost nonfunctional. His ring finger and small finger are normal though but I guess he still can’t play guitar if he used to and if was right handed i.e. Sad but true, time and chance, in a fleeting moment, can alter the course of your life, like what happened to my dad when he met with that horrific accident when a bus ran over his foot.

Anyway, time flies and dad’s ok, as ok as he could’ve been after an accident like that, I do miss his big toe and the other toe next to it. As a child, I remember cutting his nails. I’ve never talked to him about it for I wonder how much he misses it himself. Sure, time flies and so does a bot-fly, an insect of the rainforest that lays its eggs on mosquitoes. When the mosquitoes bite humans and other creatures, they lodge the bot-fly eggs on the skin. The moisture and nutrients on the skin cause the eggs to hatch and the larvae bore through the skin and start to eat the flesh inside. The keep digging and keep eating. This happened to an American guy who’d gone to roam the South American wilderness. Five weeks after he’d returned to the US, his two-hundred odd bite-marks had subsided cept two that kept growing big and started to ooze blood and other strange fluids. The docs in the US gave him IV antibiotics and discharged him. Apparently a case in the whole of the US had never been reported before and no one suspected a case. The guy decided to tape up the holes in his legs one night. When he woke up the next morning one of the tapes had come one and he saw something wiggle from the hole. Apparently the bot fly larvae requires copious amount of oxygen unlike some other parasites of the gut, like the tape worm. The guy quickly switched his video camera on, grabbed forceps and pulled the wiggly thing out of the hole in his leg, it was half an inch big and looked quite annoyed. Now this guy was motivated to pull the other one out as well so he covered up the other hole with large amount of Vaseline. The bug wiggled out a big but no sooner had the guy caught hold of him, he escaped back into the hole in his leg and buried itself deeper, chewing into his inner flesh while doing so. The guy screamed in pain but was determined and repeated the procedure, this time he grabbed the worm well and what followed was a tug-of-war with the guy pulling the larva out and the larva holding on to the inside of his flesh with great strength. Slowly and surely the guy pulled it out, this one was thrice the length and fatness of the first one. It wasn’t a pretty sight at all but hats off to the guy for his guts.
Sometimes it so happens that the experts cannot figure the problem out and prescribe a treatment that doesn’t cure. A couple of thousand bucks, countless hours and a spike in stress levels has been the cost of the wobble in my bike. A condition that no one till date has been able to solve. 42 emails exchanged with the bullet guru of the world, Pete Snidal and he’s run of ideas too. My bike still wobbles, without letting out the scene of crime. No bullet mechanic that exists in Chandigarh has been able to fix it. But I think I finally see the wiggly end of the larva. When this is done, I’ll educate a couple of hundred mechanics about the strange, uncommon problem they probably never faced but never gave a second thought to look into because they were all too busy making a quick buck doing the mundane stuff. I don’t blame them, not like I’d kept a prize money for the one that cures my bike but I see it happening at the first chance that I get to fix it and how sweet will that feel when I finally ride my stable bike.

There’s so much in life to stay happy about and to stay excited about. I’m learning that you shouldn’t pick up a big rattler on the road, you not throw caution to the wind when you’re out exploring the unknown, you should observe your surroundings and the people with a keener eye, and last but not least, you shouldn’t let beautiful memories poison the happiness in your life.

I can smile about today evening’s little outing with her without a heavy heart. I still can’t believe we didn’t make it, but then I must accept it. Goodbye, wish life free of serpents, bot-flies or any other unhappiness.

Monday, October 11, 2010

My foot

Ramlila sounds outside are blaring. I wonder why I don't feel the need to take a closer look. When was the last time I watched ramlila? I guess it was way back when I was younger than ten and maybe no more than twice back then also. I couldn't understand much owning to the loudspeakers of the time being acoustically poor. Extremely loud sounds make me uncomfortable. Back then the sets, the actors, the attire and all the paraphernalia seemed royal and grandiose. As I grew up and observed better—sounds counter-intuitive doesn't it—I reckoned that all those things that I found grand as a kid were actually quite shabby. However that only raised the respect I have for these artists; keeping a tradition alive through thick and thin of modern world. I do wish they were a little less blaring though.

Haven't times changed, I remember when Reebok and Nike were officially launched in India. I think that was way back in 1996-97. I had friends who wore these shoes before they were launched in India, courtesy their extended family in the western world. I remember the most inexpensive shoe by these companies was priced at Rs. 2500/-, these days you have a few shoes priced lesser than that. I'm talking about the time when the most expensive Indian sports shoe was a liberty Force-10 that was a full leather upper with a great rubber sole priced at around 400 bucks, compared to that, "air-bags in soles" was a alien idea that left jaws hanging. We'd heard about Michael Jordan as young basketball players, a few with Cable-TVs in their homes, and others at the former's homes, had watched him play. Those towering American basketball players wore shorts and vests that seemed affordable (or so we thought!) but we never missed those big sneakers while watching them dunk or dribble or anything. When I saw Jordan in a Nike Ad, I saw Jordan, then I saw the shoes and all the gimmicks that they were embellished with.

"Beautiful, I wonder what those feel like on the feet." I thought to myself while watching Jordan in an overtly aggressive pose ready to dunk the ball into the dungeon of eternity.

Rs. 300/- the price of an Action Shoe that was very popular for nearly a decade and a half till the Big-Feet stepped into India. Basketball is a high impact game for the joints especially when the only courts that we had were cemented and the only shoes that were all wore provided negligible cushioning, actually the rubber soles of a bathroom slipper would provide better cushioning than the shoes that we guys at the Sector-46 Stadium owned. Thankfully most of us were skinny 14year olds, not carrying too much weight to hurt out joints so bad. Action, a shoe my dad found overtly expensive and therefore would never buy me one.

Watching these cool phoren sneakers, Indian companies decided to give them a run for their money and came up with a brand called Tuffs. A pair of these Action priced shoes, looked like a Nike on display, it even felt comfortable (for a week or so), till it proved that cheap rexin couldn't match pure leather and that cheap soles actually mean cheap "souls" of the Indian manufacturer that could make you feel happy for a week then leave you in lurch staring at your sneakers, the beauty and comfort of which seemed to have sneaked away. So a month down the line of owning a pair of Tuffs, I stared at them in disbelief. My dad was finally convinced to buy me a pair...and they let me down. Two months down the line they looked like very funny and flaccid gunny bags with cream poured over them (that was the design) on my feet . I couldn't understand quite well back then that if the price of a Tuffs around one-tenth that of a Nike, they were actually supplying one-twentieth the quality. It didn't matter because quality-wise it wasn't in the league anywhere close to the international brands. They were just playing on the mind of the boy from a middle class family who couldn't afford Nikes but desperately wished to own one since everyone around him had them (for me my dad was the devil himself for not buying me those). In a way these shoes was some kind of a counterfeit, they looked like those to make you buy them but then they run flat before they've bedded your feet in. You can't play basketball wearing Tuffs without wearing them out in a jiffy.

Anyway, I grew up. Ma sent me money from the middle-east and I finally bought my first pair of truly international shoes: Adidas. They were beautiful and they were comfortable and they were good for me because I'd grown very fat and therefore my joints needed cushioning from my body-weight. Basketball days were long over but the appetite had grown. Adidas cushioned me very well and I grew fatter eating the phoren Kraft Cheese (oh! I could "down" a glass of that and still want more for the rest of my life) and Kit-Kats and Mars and Hersheys and whatnot. Ma wanted me to have everything that I yearned for and the more I had it, the more I yearned for it.

Nothing against the shoes, they were all great, the Reeboks, the Nikes, the Adidas that I bought from the money ma sent me. Dad would've had a fit if he ever knew the price of those shoes; if Rs 300/- was expensive, he would've made me wear the Rs 3500/- shoes in my hands, maybe even kept them on a display in the house. I just took the 300 odd bucks from him, put in another 3000 odd bucks and buy the shoes and tell him they were for 300. He never found out, he was least bothered so long as I didn't bug him to go shopping for them with him.

Only around 4 years ago did I watch on Discovery Chanel that extra cushioning in
shoes was actually bad for day to day use. Of course they were not talking about morbidly obese people or ones with joint condition and the likes. For a normal healthy human body, walking barefoot strengthens the muscles and tendons of the foot and the legs. It is now known that wearing extra cushioned shoes makes us place out body weight on the wrong side of the foot which is detrimental to the limb health and can even put unnecessary pressure at the wrong places in the spine.

I reckon that as much as it was about owning a pair of good-looking comfy shoes, it was more about "this is gonna make me look more acceptable to them" back then.
At 30, I do like owning a pair good shoes but I surely don't mind walking barefoot if I feel like, caring the least about what people would say, for me, that's been the best gift of growing up, to not care too much about superficial stuff...beyond a certain degree! ;)

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Bigots

I don't know how I landed up on the topic of Racism while looking for guitar lessons on youtube. I think the connection went something like this -> video guitar lessons -> America's got Talent -> America's Next top model -> Tyra Banks -> Tyra Bank's interview with incredible racist family. It was surely incredible watching the White-Supremacists talk about ridding America of all but white people and how they were ready to do "all it takes" for that.
Thoughts scampered about and I thought of racism in India. Not many fair skinned Indians in India understand that they too are not considered White. They’d hold the banner of the Indo Aryans and fight for their White right and claim it, at least in India. When they are discriminated against, they pick the banner or the Ancient Indian Mysticism and how we’re culturally and socially superior over any other civilization in the world.
People talk comfortably and openly about it about it as an accepted norm. Of course I know how hard it has been growing up dark skinned. MAN! It's merely been a decade since I've realized that I'm human too; before that I was convinced otherwise by the society. Mocking, laughing and joking about it are prevalent and jokes on skin color in standup comedy and cinema induces an unusually high tickle in the audience. At the end of the day, they blame the British for most things like the India-Pak tension, POK, racism etc. I can't say about POK but surely the British were not responsible for the development of the caste system in India. And of course the high caste being much fairer than the lower caste and the whole mythological concept of the different caste emerged from different body parts of Lord Bramha castes them into the dungeons of inequality forever. No offence to any religion, all religions have the “weird” element in them.
When it comes to color discrimination, the predominantly dark-skinned South Indians are no better. The Tam-Brahm (Tamil Brahmins) craze is quite obvious and I wonder if it’s a coincidence that they’re light skinned as well. I recently met a Tam-Brahm who works with the Merchant Navy (at a friend’s wedding) who was giving in depth details of how the Tam-Brahms are “white” to an intently curious North Indian friend’s mother. Ah! It was nice to know that they actually had a connection; they were all “White Indians”!
Growing up in Chandigarh in a mostly closed environment, with my parents never sensitizing me about it, the discrimination was very confusing. My mother’s north Indian so I neither felt alienated to a fair North Indian nor to a dark South Indian like my dad. When I was discriminated against— no sooner that I’d stepped outside the house, earliest memories go back to kindergarten— it was very confusing as to why people were being nasty to me because of my skin color; my fair mother loved me more than own self.
Growing up gifted me its own set of experiences. Meeting people brought up in Punjab, Haryana and Himachal (unlike ones that were brought up in Chandigarh who were a wee bit milder) was a revelation about the level of caste discrimination in conjunction with color discrimination. It was unbelievable initially and I found out that most guys liked me (frankly because I’d grown pretty big and fat back then and looked dangerous) but as soon as they’d find out that I’m a Christian, they’d step back and inquire if I was Scheduled Caste (of course from other friends of mine) and when they’d find out that I wasn’t, things would be hunky-dory and I befriended a lot of such people trying to gain acceptance in the "society". Had I belonged to the SC community, my life would’ve taken a very different course. So closed are their minds that they’d inadvertently discriminate when they go and meet destitute children and have that extra little liking and conversation with the lighter tones. Kids sense this very easily and so starts the vicious cycle all over again.
Joining PhD I thought I was over and done with meeting bigots of this kind but I was so wrong. Here I came across bigots that defended their bigotry with “logic”. These were educated and many of them, rich people. The Bigotry was of a level I hadn't heard of before and I realized I was living with these people, had grown up with them and though they loved me (I’d say that without doubt), I had just grown on them and if I were a stranger who would just cross their path, they’d have very different views about me if they happened to see me. It’s not in their DNA, it is taught early on, it is taught with accuracy and it’s taught with passion and it gets so deeply ingrained that they don’t even know they’re racists. For them it’s not racism, it is the right thing and they don’t even know that it is a representation of Right-Wing fascists.
Be it sophisticated Army officers to high class Bank managers and doctors at high positions, (and to some degree my own parents) all sing the songs of color and caste. The day-to-day conversations and jokes are insinuated with such “facts”. So is TV, so are advertisements, so is the cinema, all conjuring up and cementing the bigoted mindsets such that it always stays as a norm. It’s so damn acceptable that if you question them, they’ll start giving you reasons without compunctions.
So how come when these Superior Indians face racism outside, they don't come back to teach their buddies that this is all wrong? Well some of them do. I have seen one extreme racial bigot (who was a good friend of mine!) transform after staying for 8 years in Canada but true also is that fact that many don't. This Punjabi Jatt boy worked hard and struggled (doing odd jobs to make a living and battling drug addiction that he overcame) to finally make things work for himself and his bigoted views had changed. Of course when it came to marriage, the parental bride requirement was stereotypical to an extreme but what the heck, we all want “Good Things” for our children don’t we? It was a pleasant surprise to meet him and interact with him after those many years though. I wonder how many actually change like that.

There are definitely a handful few who have been liberated by education; friends that don’t talk and think like their parents. At least a few and I hope that there’s still hope.

Here’s link to the accepted bigotry that is well funded and well propagated by us, you can read most comments under the article to know how unaware people are while they are in the very act of bigotry:
http://www.internationalpoliticalwill.com/2010/01/indias-popular-fairness-cream-a-sign-of-deep-racism/

http://www.indianeye.org/2008/01/12/unfair-and-lowly-fairness-creams-and-racist-tones/comment-page-1/#comment-21726

http://www.topix.com/forum/world/india/TBI601AH1TDCQ34KA

Friday, October 08, 2010

this and that

I was watching a very interesting serial on skyscrapers on History Channel and was amazed at the inception of the concept. About how stone couldn't be used as a material to build very tall building owing to it's weight and about how steel and concrete revolutionized the heights to which a skyscraper could go. Also about how the mammoths are kept from sinking into the soil under their own weight, how cooling is achieved and how these buildings are made safe from the elements of high wind and earthquakes.

As I flipped the channel to Discovery, I got to watch "The Detonators" and saw the art and science of tearing down old big buildings by implosions (inward explosions).

Both the architects and the detonators talked about their subjects like there was nothing more to the world than their job; great to see the level of passion there.

Thursday, October 07, 2010

unending endings

Yeah, it's not the end.

Season of "mellow fruitlessness" will give way to winters soon. Soon the holiday season will be around the corner, soon there will be cake-making, drinking and eating and the emptiness covered with noises and carols and praise & worship; Jesus is born, let's eat, drink and make merry! I too will enter my thirty-first year of life soon.

Soon the day will start to lose the battle to the night which will become longer and colder and more silent. Staring out of the open window, there will be no creaking of the crickets and other insects, or even people strolling around, neither will there be the noises of the ACs and the fans to mask-out the deathly silence. My numb nose will smell nothing, the cold breeze will blow on my face bringing respite from the silence by shaking the leaves on those trees. Though there will hardly be any leaves left and every rustle will make a few more yellow and dying ones fall gently on a sea of others like itself.

Soon there will be weddings and the love of the cold will be wiped from the memories forever. Warmth and reassurance will lock the cold outside. Soon they'll have too much to stay indoors for than to step out in the arms of the echos of their footsteps that are so pronounced in the cold blistering foggy nights. While the cold peeps into the homes of those that don't welcome it, I'll open my door, embrace it and walk into it, like walking in a still picture cept for that mysterious owl that usually follows me and hoots, as if trying to converse; I've always wished I could talk to it.

Soon a new year will start, and just after the celebrations are over, it will get colder and when the fog descends, it will blur the reality which will appear surreal, beautiful and dream-like.

So much will appear and then end so soon. I will witness yet another change in the stillness of life.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

For me when it comes to a bike, I should be able to take a glimpse of it and feel the oomph! None is felt when I look at either the Mahindra MOJO 300 or the Honda VTR 250, althought I definitely find the VTR better looking. Considering all the hype that was created around Mojo, I'm not really pleased with the final product. They definitely could've made something better looking while maintaining the goodies they've provided on the bike.

However one look at the specifications of the Mojo and I gradually feel that the oomph is definitely there, albeit sitting under the fuel tank. Those specs are really good. Fuel injected, liquid cooled 300cc single, 11:1 compression, DOHC engine sounds really good. Apart from that, there are other goodies: inverted forks are a welcome change from the rest; they reduce the unlaiden weight and therefore improve handling and performance. Tyre specs are impressive as well. Top view reveals the aerodynamically optimized body, monoshocks and disc brakes are impressive as well and there is no doubt in my mind that this bike would perform really well. I hear that it was designed in Italy (REALLY!! they actually designed that ugly toad there?) Maybe they should've consulted Moto Guzzi, or maybe talked to Ducati about the design while they were borrowing their fuel injection system! I really haven't come across an ugly Italian bike or at least one that even looks like the Mojo.

Having said that, it seems like on road, it would be a head turner owing to it's size and sound (hopefully). I sadly christian it "The toad of the road" although a very agile one, a very strong one maybe one that grows on me someday but for now, if i have 1,75,000 Rupees (ex showroom Pune) burning a hole in my pocket, I'd head straight to Royal Enfield (it's slightly low on power but way ahead in terms of torque and hey...it's a 500cc powerplant...and what the heck, if fuel efficiency is your concern, it's fuel eff is nearly 40% more than the of the Mojo's) and buy their 500 Classic and save the remaining 50 grands to go for a long long ride; It looked pretty 50 years ago, it still looks beautiful. Technology will always evolve in mobikes but the "beauty of the brawn" is a very very important factor. When I saw Mojo's pictures, I was stunned...about the fact that this is what I was waiting to look at???!! Oh No! The twin headlamps look ugly on the bike, totally contrary to what such twins look on a Triumph Rocket-3 (Tri-oomph Tri-oomph oomph)!

However I like the bike's profile and the rear (but somehow for me, it really doesn't go well with the front end which is downright UGLY). The fuel tank is such an important aesthetic feature and it's such a downer on the Mojo, at least it looks like that in the pictures. Shucks! Nice engine wasted! OK! OK! I'll go with the fuel tank but the headlamps...Yuck! I think the Malaguti MR 250 which inspired the Mojo is such an awesome looking bike and the only outer difference between the two is the headlamp-meter assembly, which on the MR250 resembles that of the Yamaha FZ and looks great. Mojo?? I dunno what came over the designer to shove those two blobs into the front, almost pointing away from each other (though I'm sure that will provide a wider beam area but still man!). You can sit and design the best performance oriented ugly bike, the trick is to keep the performance and keep the bike beautiful. If I cover the headlamp though, I love the rest of the bike for sure.
But with those headlamps, I christian the Mojo as the Motor-Joker! A well built Joker! a Joker that can grapple bad terrain, a joker that can beat others on track, a joker that can probably even jump the highest but at the end of the day, you look at it and go SHUCKS! It looks like a joker. At the end of the day, if I'm gonna shell out that much of money, I'd wait and see how the VTR is priced rather than ride the mojo feeling embarrassed about people gazing at me with a question mark on their faces and an obvious question in their mind...WHAT THE HECK IS THAT??

But between VTR and Mojo, I'd go for a VTR if it's of a comparable price (even if a wee bit higher). It's definitely a prettier bike and carried the Japanese reliability along with the V-Twin engine.
Given below are specs for both the bikes (taken from bikeadvice.in, bikedekho.com and hondampe.com.au)

HONDA VTR
Model Name VTR250
Engine Type Liquid-cooled 4-stroke DOHC V-twin
Power: 22kW/10,500min-1
Torque: 22Nm/8,500min-1
Bore & Stroke 60 x 44.2mm
Compression Ratio 11 : 1
Displacement 250cc
Ignition: Computer-controlled fully transistorised with electronic advance
Carburation: PGM-FI electronic fuel injection
Starter Electric
Transmission 5 speed
Final Drive O-ring sealed chain
Dimensions (mm) 2,070 x 725 x 1,055 (LxWxH)
Wheel Base (mm) 1405
Seat Height (mm) 775
Ground Clearance (mm) 155
Fuel Capacity (litres) 12.4 litres (including 2-litre reserve)
Front Tyres 110/70 17M/C (54H)
Rear Tyres 140/70 17M/C (66H)
Front Wheel Z-type cross-section 5-spoke cast aluminium
Rear Wheel Z-type cross-section 5-spoke cast aluminium
Front Brakes: 296mm single hydraulic disc dual piston caliper and resin mould pads
Rear Brakes 220mm hydraulic disc with single-piston caliper and resin mould pads
Kerb Weight (kg) 161kg (F: 77kg; R: 84kg)
Warranty Period 12 Months
Max. Carrying Capacity 336kg
Loaded Weight 340kg (F: 114kg; R: 226kg)

Mahindra MOJO
Overall length x width x height in mm 2100 x 830 x 1270
Seat Height in mm 820
Wheelbase, in mm 1450
Minimum ground clearance 150
Kerb Weight 160 kgs
Engine Type DOHC Single Cylinder, Liquid Cooled, 4 Valves – Direct Drive, SI
Displacement 292 cc
Bore x Stroke 78 mm x 61.2 mm
Compression Ratio 11 : 1
Maximum Power 19.3 kW @ 8500 rpm
Maximum Torque 24 N.m @ 7000 rpm
Starting System Self Start
Ignition System ECU (Electronic Control Unit)
Fuel Tank Capacity in liters 15.5 Ltr
Transmission Type / Gear Box Constant Mesh, 6 speed
Frame Type Twin Tube Exposed frame in Steel, Shining yellow painted;
Diamond Frame
Wheel Type Alloy Wheel
Rim Size (Front / Rear) Front 2.75 x 17”; Rear 4.00 x 17”
Tire Size (Front / Rear) – Tubeless 100/80 – 17” (Front) 150/60 -17”
(Rear)- radial
Brake Type (Front / Rear) Disc 320 mm (Front); Disc 220 mm (Rear);
Suspension Type
Inverted fork Telescopic hydraulic-damped (Front);
120 mm stroke Horizontally mounted Mono Shox; air + hydraulic damping(Rear)
Battery 12V, 9 AH; Maintenance Free
Head Lamp
Twin Beams; 35W / 35W X 2; Halogen Bulb (Multi Reflector Type)
Marker / Pilot Lamps 4 LED’s each side, above twin beam Head Lights
Tail Lamp LED based (with 12 LED’s)

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

scary!

The weather's gone berserk.
This has to be some of the loudest thundering I've ever heard and there have been quite a few very very loud ones.
Either lighting's striking here and there or these are actually bombs being dropped on our city.

....and now everything's gone uncannily quiet...pin drop silence!

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Flip

Bike troubles have turned me into an investigator of another level. I’ve been in touch with Pete Snidal, the author of the famed "Bullet-Manual", via emails and he’s been sharing ideas with me and giving me his take on my ideas and troubleshoot strategies. It feels awesome to be discussing this issue with someone older than my dad and a veteran in the field.

I can’t believe a month ago, I had marriage on my list of things-to-do. That topic has vanished into thin air and I can breathe once more. I’ve never been so spooked in life, the way I was when everything became so real. A trip, which could’ve otherwise been fantabulous, turned out to be nerve-wrecking one at the thought of marrying my travel buddy. I realized that I didn’t know her so well and couldn’t connect but somehow… In hindsight, I feel that I’d been the best example of a jerk. Anyway after getting such a big fright at facing being almost-married at such close quarters, I feel if such an event repeats, I’ll be glad to never tie the knot. I felt like an underage kid being forced to get married; can’t believe I felt so strongly for it when I’d left for the long journey.

Anyway, it’s helped me understand the meaning of something I never knew of “clean-cut”. It’s just that it’s such a shame that someone had to undergo pain in order for me to learn that. It makes me sad and does give me serious headaches every time I think of it but it’s still a relief. I am just not mentally prepared for marriage and I don’t know if I’ll ever be!

I do have a Royal Enfield and a bicycle that I love and that’s the only thing I know and care about. To hell with my love life!

Sunday, August 29, 2010

It Hurts

Yes it hurts, it hurts a lot. My arm, the swelling's travelled down to my forearm.

I remember the first time I got stung by a wasp, I was in 2nd standard and as a 7 year old, knew enough to keep away from the sunny-wings. I'd seen "swollen" friends but the second hand experience couldn't prepare me for the time, I was waving at my friend at school and this aggressive beast landed on my fingers probably taking my waving hand as some kind of a threat, I tried to jerk it off but...POKE!!! EYEEEOOOWW!!! you freaking monster...Aw!! that hurt!!

Over the years, I've had near-sting experiences but somehow always managed to dodge the needle-ass. Till one day some 10years ago, I decided to throw all old books outta my room. I stacked up the books and took them out in sets (big sets). I held them in both hands and supported the stack on my chest and held them from above with my chin (some big stack eh). I kicked open the door without realizing that a couple of wacky-wasps were having a good time on the door. Rest is history, two wasps landed on my lips and decided to teach me a lesson I'd never forget and POKEY POKEY...YYYYEEEEOOWWW!!! up went the stack of books flying everywhere as the beasts flew away after doing their job. I ran to the bathroom to see the damage in front of a mirror. Pain was intense and shooting through my head, I could see my veins around my head pulsating from the adrenalin rush I'd just experienced. The freakin stinger was dancing in my lips and I swear I've never been so badly attacked on this part of my body (maybe apart from one other time but that wasn't a wasp...almost one). I roamed around for a few days with HUGE pouty lips and it was embarrassing. It was like every person I looked at, I was asking for a kiss!!! YEEOOOWW!!!

This year has broken all records though, I've been stung 4 times in 8 months. 3 of these occured at the same time. Some two months ago I was riding to my institute singing loudly on the bike, AH! what a beautiful morning it was till I rode through a dispersed swarm of very angry wasps. I though I'd dodged them till I felt a sharp pain on my neck near the larynx...yeow!! then another one below it...yeow!! then another on on my chest...YEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!! WTF...I reached my lab in great pain till one of my labmated decided to rub the area with an iron ring (to remove the sting I guess). Stangely this one recovered by the evening with nothin more than a mild itch and redness.

But no reaction was as great as yesterday's (i guess the latest pain is always the most painful of all). It was another happy morning till a freakin stupid wasp banged into me, I was at high speed and didn't wanna react, I brushed it aside but it didn't go far, I landed on my bicep, close to my shoulder and through my shirt it stung me with a fury like I was her sworn enemy. This one planted it's sting pretty deep, I saw her sting me, she almost dug her whole ass into my flesh, as hard as she could, the shirt for her was non-existant, she wanted to punish me. It hurt so bad that I howled on the bike, it hurt so bad that I started laughin loudly swearing at the top of my voice. The stinger danced in my flesh for eternity and all the time I was on the bike, I laughed out loud (it seemed to ease the pain a bit and also helped me accept that I couldn't do anything else about it). It's been a day and a half and it still hurts. The area upto my wrist is swolled (that means the entire length of my inner arm). It's tender to touch as well and there a mixed sensation of pain and itch. Also there's pus formation on the exact area of the sting (I guess the sting is still buried in my flesh)

Oh This Hurts but not as badly as my heart!!! Why'd I grow up!

wobble wobble

Got fork gaitors (front fork covers) installed at the agency. These guys did a crappy job of fixing the shockers back on (they didn't tighten the screws equally and I didn't know abt it back then). Over a period of a few thousand kms, the front tyre got worn out unevenly. Wobbling developed and I couldn't figure what the reason was. I went mad at the new advice that every new mechanic would give me. I replaced swing arm bushes, got rear wheel balanced till the guy refused to entertain me anymore (he thought I had OCD...which I almost did), got sprockets replaced, got new rear tyres (got swindled in the process). I always looked at the rear for the reason and could've never believed that it was originating from the front wheel till it became really serious on one trip up the hills. I barely managed to get back home, such was the wobble and finally found that it was originating from the front. I got disc brakes checked, got new steering bearing and greased them and got a front tyre. After more than one year (and trust me a couple of thousands of rupees down the drain), I am riding a bike that doesn't wobble.

Tyres are a big problem if they aren't "fitted" properly and not all puncture-walas know that. The tyres can have inherent manufacturing defects in the sidewalls that make them uneven and cause wobbling.

Wobbling "can be" a very complicated issue (not always) and requires a double check of a many parts of the bike.

Monday, June 21, 2010

rot my brain

As if the ad-mad world of Skin whitening creams wasn't already culpable of promoting racism in the form of color discrimination, I found another gimmick in the form of this Promo of Vaseline's skin whitening system on facebook that asks you upload your picture which is then "digitally" "whitened" and "enhanced". They want you to see "how different you are" from "what you can be". Anyone remembers Mungeri Lal ke Haseen sapne, wow! what a great episode of sarcasm could be added to it in these day.

Screw such social acceptance and for such a society I can just say one thing "Sit in it suckers"

They're not promoting a cream, they're promoting mental filth that is already abundant in our society. Hey, it's not their fault, they're just cashing in on the garbage in your skull.

Shaadi.com blunder

Situation: Someone expressed interest in my profile on Shaadi.com. I read her profile and it turned out that she's a writer. I searched for her on Facebook and sent her a message, she replied and then I replied.

The following is purely for reading pleasure. I hang my head in shame and agree that my first mail was very weird and any sane woman would be alarmed to read it. My second mail to her is NOT a victory banner, I'm sure the lady will get back to me with a whack-ass reply and I'll add it to this post whenever that happens. I'm taking no names and with all due respect to the bright intelligent lady (she is so freaking talented that if you would ever read her profile on shaadi.com, u'd be left with a hanging jaw...no kidding) who was sweet enough to leave room for an explanation to my first mail. If this is anything, this is an example of how stupid some men (like me) can be at communicating things and then how wily they cover up for it later. READ ON and LAUGH (but only at me):

Jesse Sebastian Samuel 20 June at 01:11
hi, I wonder if u recognize me...Shaadi.com? How are you doing? I'm afraid I've just kept that profile on due to parental pressure and really don't plan to marry for another 3 odd years but does that stop us from being friends? I really hope you don't find this to be offensive.
So you're a writer and that's awesome. Was wondering if you could give me tips about how to start writing a book (that i already have ideas in my head about what to write). I've been writing a blog myself for sometime now and have published a few articles in newspapers as well.
So? Friends?
Jesse

XXXXXXX (Name will not be disclosed) 20 June at 15:34 Report
you are right.. I quite don't recognize you? WHat is your id?
If I'm not wrong, you must 30+ odd years and are you telling me that you cannot stand up to your parents and tell them that you don't want to be married for how many ever years.

Don't you think that you are on the wrong website to be making friends? If this was the case, why did you not tell on Shaadi.com but you manage to find me on Facebook to send a mail?

Something is not right about this whole thing unless you convince me otherwise.

Jesse Sebastian Samuel 21 June at 01:27
Hi,

Apologies; I didn't quite mean to incite such a reaction but it is quite understandable, considering the contents of my previous mail that I'd typed in a hurry.

If the first line of my mail sounded cocky, plz forgive me and allow me to explain. I am SH58620208 from Shaadi.com and you'd expressed interest in me on 9th June 2010.

I am not on Shaadi.com to find friends but indeed to find a life partner. I'd let the spacio-temporal aspect of that be my prerogative. However, I've taken note of your concern and have now mentioned on my profile that I do not wish to marry soon.

Even if I wanted to communicate with you on this matter (tips on how to write a book) on Shaadi.com (wouldn't that be more weird?), i couldn't because I'm not a paid member yet and since facebook is free, I thought I'd approach you here on the matter.

If I would've communicated with you about this on Facebook without referring to our shaadi.com, you would've found out about that connection sooner than later and probably raised your eyebrow higher up.

However it was on your shaadi profile that I read that you’ve authored some books (I checked out some of their blurbs and outline). I therefore I gave the reference of the shaadi.com. However I should've probably put it together in a better way than I did; sorry for that.

I was instantly excited about the fact that I had the opportunity to communicate with an author. I believe I got carried away and went gungho about it; another fault.

Like I said, I write too, in my own small way. True, it didn’t take much to find out if you existed on Facebook; just a name search.

I greatly appreciate the fact that you write and at level that you’ve published your own books. I plan to write one myself but I guess I'll manage without tips from a pro :)

No hard feelings,
Kind regards,
Jesse

Friday, June 18, 2010

Shall we?

Scared of marriage. Why? I might totally be in love with her but...

Firstly about the kind of person I might marry: will she like me or the false image she might create of me? Same goes about her. I hope she's not a pretender...doesn't seem like.

Will being from a different place make a big difference?
I love independent women but will she be so fiercely independent that she'll find it difficult to think of us a family?
Will she love my simple folks?

I guess finance is the next important subject. I've been foolish enough to not have saved anything but since I have started to save now, will my monthly stipend of 18 grands suffice? I guess it should with us having a house of our own. But I still need to save some amount and quickly so.

Won't it be just amazing to be married to someone so lively, creative and honest. Someone of my age but one who still believes in love. Man! i think of it and it brings a big smile on my face. But shouldn't I get to know her better first? Sometimes I wonder if that'd make a difference.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Repeat

Just another man, just another woman
Walking through life and wondering
Who’s best to share it with?
Who will understand who you are?
Then boldly hold your hand,
Accept the things you do
and for those that you stand
Accept your past, both bitter and sweet
Who is this person and when will you meet
Did you not think you met the last time
Or the time before that,
You sit and recall those special moments
Times that you cherished and thought,
this is it
you fell in love, like you’d never before
you held each other’s hands and you were sure
of walking together forever and ever
Such times always follow the bad ones
Trails that test your bond
You hate one another, yet are bonded by love
You rant and rave
about the mistake that you made
Till one day everything’s fine
You’re walking together again,
Sunshine or rain
Then you start to plan the future
Of a time that never comes
“we” wither and die
You open your eyes
Your vision is clearer
But you realize that
you’ve turned into a wayfarer
then you do what wayfarers do best
you walk on
and wonder if this is it
and you leave the rest

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Sunday

God rested on the last day after he had worked hard to create the world in six days, so says the holy scriptures of some religions. Surely that’s the way it should be for anybody; relaxation and rejuvenation after six days of work.
I was born on a Sunday too, at 5:05am in the morning. I’m sure that was one Sunday my mother would’ve relaxed through the day after some months of carrying me around. When I was a kid, I wanted to have my Sunday to myself. I’d wake up in the morning with hot breakfast waiting for me in front of the TV just before a series of my favorite cartoon serials would start. I didn’t like being taken to Church though, especially Easter, always being a Sunday and a very hot one. Food, TV and rest were always the Sunday’s forte. As a lonely teenager, Sunday was a time to connect with my paraphernalia; I’d spend hours listening to my favorite music, gawking at interior décor magazines and fantasizing of a dream house that would reflect my essence in some way. Of course I never realized that all the things I wanted to do required money and only later did I realize that “money was so expensive.” Growing up made me realize that a Sunday spent cleaning up the room was Sunday spent better than building castles in the air; there’d be time for it, we’ll see then.
However, as I grew up, life started to take its toll on my Sunday and it hardly remained what it was meant to be. Many years spent either in preparing for professional exams, the unending series of exams that promised to secure my life once and for all, and the increasing discomfort of whether this was the life I actually wanted, ruined many Sundays of my life. I wrote many an entrance test on Sundays and such Sundays were anything but fun.
God knows how I ended up being where I am now but this work too stole my Sundays from me. This was so till I my girl came along and we started to spend the Sundays together either roaming around places in the city or going for long rides. This went on till one Sunday I realized that I’d had enough and my Sunday wasn’t mine anymore. This in turn had a domino effect which ended up in me ending up single again.
Here I sit at my computer punching keys to tell the world that I’ve reclaimed my Sunday, at whatever cost. Today I woke up late, watched a few episodes of Wind In The Willows, ate breakfast while watching another episode of Sherlock Holmes and then slept off again. I woke up two hours after the alarm set by me and headed straight for another meal in front of the TV. I could’ve saved a day if I worked today but why should I save a day to sacrifice my Sunday. I believe I’ll be happier and more productive man on Monday if I enjoy my Sunday.
Who knows what course life will take and what the years (howsoever many there may be) will bring. Maybe many Sundays might be spent working, if there’s no option that is, or worrying, God forbid but who knows the future. I’ll probably even get married on a Sunday and surely I’d want a relaxed, cool, non-crazy ceremony for the same. I’ll probably spend some Sundays doing crazy stuff, long rides, playing with my kids or even grand-kids but whatever I do, I’d surely want my Sundays to be fun-days.

Sunday, June 06, 2010

Thanedhar

Boss had left for France for a few days and we planned our trip alongside his, of course without letting him know of our plans. I left the bike at IMTECH and Anuj brought it to my place in the morning while Harman and I were ready to move off. Unfortunately I accidentally carried to key to the instrumentation room with me and therefore we all had to go back to IMTECH to return it. I had had a glass of milk till the time we reached Solan where we had a cup of tea. A funny incidence occurred here. Three ladies were walking past us hauling a good amount of luggage. No sooner had they neared us, one of them let out a terrorised shriek, left her bag, ran and took cover...from a harmless little cow that just happened to be heading their way. We laughed so loudly that the cow got scared and quickly moved away from us. Embarrassed at first, the ladies joined us in our laughter session. Past Solan it started to feel hot and it was no surprise to find Shimla quite hot, just as we’d been reading in the papers. We kept riding nonstop till we were stuck in a jam near Kufri. This is a fairly common occurrence. The engines were quite hot from the constant climb and we’d covered more than a 120kms. Here we stopped as Harman felt his bike was overheating. This place offered no respite from the heat and we stopped at what looked like an ancient tea shop. The walls were dirty and muddy. The wooden benches, stove, kettle and other utensils could’ve passed for ancient relics and the owner, who walked in a little later could’ve passed for a comic character. Slim, straight, wrinkled, weather-beaten face holding big gaunt eyes, his hair were grey and eyebrows jet black. We chatted with him for a while and he told us that of late there was an intense water shortage in the area and he didn’t even have water to sell tea. He said he only made sweets of late and they sell quickly. Judging by the condition of his utensils, I reckoned that if they didn’t sell and were consumed very very quickly, they’d probably cause food poisoning. We moved on but soon my bike started to give off strange vibrations that I could sense on the foot peg. Earlier too I felt like something was wrong with the bike as I sensed strange vibrations in the handle and thought it to be some problem with the front wheel. We stopped and sat down to diagnose the problem, took the chain cover off and it became better but something wasn’t quite right and it was most irritating to convince the other two who weren’t actually riding my bike but had all the opinion in the world about how I was hallucinating. Anyway, I thought it best to shut up and move on and just wait for an accident it was in the offing. My biggest fear was of suddenly losing control on a turn or while crossing another vehicle...hell no! on these roads losing control could mean serious trouble in any situation. Thankfully nothing happened. Narkanda was cool, but we thought it was boring so we moved on while asking people of what lay ahead of us. It grew quite cold by now and despite the leather jacket, my naked fingers weren’t happy at the absence of gloves. The road grew from bad to pretty bad but the picturesque milieu made us let go of our apprehensions. We reached a place called Jarol after a very steep climb. This place had a small lake and surrounded by dense conifer cover, it looked very beautiful. There was quite a rush at this place, almost all of them localites. There was a fair in progress and we could hear a ruckus from behind the trees. We decided not to investigate; anyway all the local lads were consuming alcohol and taking drugs right in the open everywhere. We decided to go off road and rode up to a village, then past it till we stopped at a place where we could park the bikes. It was cold and cloudy and we could clearly see the snow capped Himalayas on one side. Harman thought it was a great idea to camp at that place. I thought not because firstly we were ill-prepared for the cold and secondly, I’d never stay outside without having the details of the local fauna. Later we came to know that the place was inhabited by small bears. Small or large, a bear is a bear. We rode down from Jarol and took a improperly paved road that moved into an inhabited area. Here we kept inquiring about a place to stay the night but in vain. People were really nice but owing to the Village-Fair all guest houses were booked. We then stopped to click picture of the setting sun; it was a beautiful surreal sight and we let our cameras lose. Realizing that the sun would set in a 15-20 mins, we set off on our room hunt. We tried the PWD and other guest houses but without luck till we ended up at a hotel that was locked from outside. There was a house close by and we inquired about the hotel owner from the inhabitants of that house. Indeed they had his number and called up to the hotel. After much haggling, we settled at 900bucks a night for a small but decent room. We settled in and the view from the balcony was fantastic. The sun had set and darkness was falling. The sky wore many shades ranging from deep red, violet to black and the hills were dotted with lights. We clicked again. It was cold and we opened the bottle of gin and had a few. The sumptuous veggie dinner was served by the hotel owner himself, his aides were on leave. We went to bed and must've slept for 3 odd hours when the sound of tap water in the sink woke me up. Anuj, thirsty from alcohol had woken up to drink water. Harman woke up too. Before we knew it all three of us were wide awake, though still huddled into the heavy quilts, in the pitch-black, cold, breezy room with the open windows. I don't know what came over us but we started to crack jokes, a make believe situation with the three of us as Haryanvi Jaats named Ombir, Rajbir and Satbir. It was like whose-line-is-it-anyway. Somebody would say something and another person would carry the situation forward and what turned in to an unending series of dirty dirty jokes. I laughed till I felt anoxic, it was terrible, I was gasping for breath but couldn't stop laughing. My lungs, diaphragm, abs were so fatigued from laughing for so damn long but I couldn't stop; hysteria ransacked the room. God knows when we slept but I woke up early next morning to the sweet sounds of the birds. It was still a little dark. I went and stood in the balcony and took deep breaths as if trying to absorb all the beauty of the place into my body. It was quite cold but I braved it for a few early-morning snaps. I went back to bed and was rudely woken up after a few hours by a volley of almost-hard hitting punched on my back and chest; Anuj, who we didn't let sleep the previous night, was taking his revenge.
We all took a shower and went riding to Saroga, three kms of which was a steep, unpaved path. We reached a dead end and came face to face with a local woman guarding her apple orchard. We talked to her for a long time and she told us that she worked hard to send her son to Chandigarh to study but he wasn't doing well in studies. She told us that she had to regularly drive away very persistent and dangerous troops of monkeys and occasionally bears as well. She stayed there alone in a small shack during the day and hired Nepali boys to guard the place at night. She asked us many a time to sit with her over a cup of tea but we politely declined. However we did walk into her orchard and got up close with the baby apples. We found an orchard on the way that still had cherries on their trees and enquired about the price. We bought a few boxes of high-class cherries, ones that aren't sold in the market but sold to big Hotels.....

Friday, June 04, 2010

Sleep-me-ness

28th may 2010

they say before a storm
there’s a lull
I’m tired but full
I’m weary I’m dull
It hurts
at the base of my skull
My the eyelids draw closer
I try to see what I can
Time goes and then space,
Till slowly, all is null

As soon as I

26th May 2010


I will “do it” when I wake up
As soon as I’ve slept enough
I will be nice, I will be polite
As soon I’m tired of being gruff

I’ll settle in, I’ll stay put
As soon as I’m tired of riding
I’ll appreciate
As soon as I’m done chiding

I’ll smile soon
As soon as I’m done crying
I’ll be honest
As soon as I’m done lying

I’ll reveal myself
As soon as I’m done with pretense
I’ll be sane, I’ll be humble
As soon as I give up overconfidence

I’ll help others
As soon as I’m done being selfish
I’ll serve you too
As soon as I finish my own dish

Sooner for you could be later for me
Time is freedom but still a trap
I’ll do something at least
As soon as I’m done writing this crap

It’s good to not be bad
but being nothing at all; that’s most sad
Oh! And I’ll stop procrastinating too
But I think I’ll start in a day or two

Bye Bye: The Sequel

10th May 2010
Today I met Ekta for the last time (at least for a long time to come). Ekta Bajaj, a figure from the past, more than a decade and a half ago. The three years I was in St. Stephens’ I must’ve probably said no more than “excuse me” to her. She was a stranger to me frankly and yet in latter part of last year, I received a comment on my blog from her that said “never knew way back in school that you could write so well”. I carried so much of pain from the memories of school years that for some inexplicable reason, this comment meant the world to me. I wanted to post the comment as a post on my blog but felt that people would think I’ve turned into narcissist.

I talked to Ekta two or three times on the phone and then met her once last month and we talked like we were great friends from the past, shared so many things about so many people from school, things that formed a bond of great friendship between us. Then in between our plans to meet again didn’t materialize one or two times. After that, we only got to meet today evening.

We talked and laughed non-stop so loud as soon as we met that the massive Sunday crowd at the lake constantly gawked at us but we couldn’t care less. And then she said, “I have some news I wanna share with you.” And this has happened so many times before with other ladies that I just responded by saying, “CONGRATULATIONS” I just knew she’d been fixed up with some guy for marriage even before she said it. I have this effect on women; they meet me and soon find their life partner. MAN!!! It’s strange but true. She inquired about what happened between me and ex to have parted to my first reply was the usual, “Shit happened” before I actually told her the real thing. Sitting at the lake always reminds me of the two most beautiful and special times I spent with my ex there: the surreal morning and the surreal night…just a quick passing thought and then I told her about it like I tell it to almost anyone who accompanies me there. Anyway I was really happy for Ekta, we carried on with our talks, much of which comprised silly anecdotes, jokes and make-believe situations that we almost literally fell off the bench laughing. Then one of the better compliments I’ve received in life “You should get married Jesse, you’re a nice catch really.” Ah!! MADE MY DAY!! What thirty-nothing and single guy wouldn’t just love to hear that coming from a girl.
She’ll be shifting to Singapore with her husband after their wedding. It got quite late and she was extremely sweet to have stayed back that long. I walked her to her car which happened to be parked some distance away towards to the village end of The Lake.

Today when we hugged me just before parting, my heart almost sank (just for a second) at that fact that this was goodbye. I was sad but I smiled and joked as we parted. Man! I’d just made a great friend and lost her so soon. I’d thoroughly enjoyed the walks and talks with her and was so happy also at the fact that she was someone from a distant past. What do you know about life? Had someone told us way back in school that we’d be great pals one day after 14-15years and so suddenly, we both would’ve said “Yeah! And pigs will fly.” This evening she opened my eyes to a new possibility in life. I was no short of shockingly amazed at her struggles in life. I couldn’t help but marvel at the efforts she took in life to reach where she is and am so happy that she’s found this amazing guy for a husband. Surely Ekta’s life is a one that I find most enchanting and inspiring.

Anyway the long walk back alone was filled with fear for my bike's safety because it was parked in some pitch black area. It was dark and I totally confused the place where I'd parked it. I found it after a long search and the first thing I checked was the fuel pipe. The last time I parked it there was the time I was with my ex-girl and someone stole petrol. I felt so sure that this was the person I was gonna spend the rest of my life with. I so fell in love with her again that night. BACK TO REALITY! If it were to happen again, it would be a lonely ordeal. It was pitch dark and secluded but my bike was safe. There was no company this time, just a soft kick to the pawl, the engine’s roar and off I went riding alone. I concentrated on the road ahead while breathing in the fragrance of the eucalyptus trees in that area.

Wednesday, June 02, 2010

Dirty Hands

Every time I turn them around
Seems like I’ve been digging ground
I love em clean but what a pain
These hands are dirty yet again

I was in bed till midnight
Thoughts aloft and none quite bright
girls n’ booze n’ other neuronal spike

But none makes me as happy
like the thought of my good ol’ bike
burned more with the iridium plug
she could now race a big fat slug

enlarged the air filter and messed the specs
carburetion was the new bottleneck
opened the pipe, wasted more money
did nothing but raise the cacophony

I threatened, I begged n’ sustained the fret
Till I laid my hands on the big main jet
finally they came to life, these wheels I love
They now take my soul to the heavens above

And while I cruise through wind and rain
I turn them around, Oh! They’re dirty again
I ride, I ride I love my machine
helped me see things I’d never seen
the plains and mountains I’d never known
the abyss and skies I’d never flown
the good, bad, ugly…not to forget the clever
some I’d remember, other erase forever

I look at them and feel a special bond
with these ten grimy magic wands
I love em clean but what a pain
These hands are dirty yet again
Indefatigably maneuvering me into new lanes

Monday, May 24, 2010

The sage's locks

I’m suffering from chronic as well as acute procrastination. It’s been a week since I returned from Rishikesh and I haven’t written a travelogue on it. So here's a general description of our trip.
Anuj stayed at my place the night before we left. We savoured bhindis cooked by ma. At night we behaved as clownish as we normally do, consequently two nights of inadequate sleep, this night and the night before, showed its effect in the long ride to Rishikesh in the blistering heat. Dehradun traffic was horrible and as luck would have it we got stuck in a jam soon after that horrible traffic had ended and the road was beautiful and empty for a while. I was sick of this and decided to go off road and cross the jam. That happened till the off-road ended too. There was a pit in front and a very small path, sufficient to move the tyres on but just that. Anuj thought it would be foolish to try but I couldn’t wait any longer. So he got off the bike and guided me as I crossed the path and then it happened…I crossed the path and reached the other side and just then, next to a another pit, the engine stalled. I responded in a twitch and jumped off the bike the safer side but the bike was just too heavy to stop, it fell into the pit. My shins got bruised and grazed in the process. Anuj rushed to me in horror and we both instantly hauled the bike up. People in the jam on one side of us had a good time watching the action. By the time Rishikesh was 12 kms away, I was nearly asleep while riding. It was very hot, hence the water we were carrying in the side boxes was extremely hot too, notwithstanding we downed as much as we could to prevent a heat stroke. It took a hot cup of tea…umm! No the hot tea didn’t help much. My drowsy eyes, couldn’t take the beating of the glare and the baking dry heat and were shutting off till I ate the extra sweet jam biscuits. A sudden surge of glucose in the blood popped em outta their sockets. We were parked next to an overturned truck! By the time we reached Rishikesh, my system was shutting down and try as I may I couldn’t explain it to Anuj who was still fresh. We “managed” a raft. We were somehow unable to go to the appointed destination and were forced to take the shorter rafting trip which lasted nearly three hours. The sand and rocks were so hot that I had to pour water on my naked feet to walk on the ground. When the water touched out feet, it was a shock, it was cold! After being instructed by the guide, we jumped into the raft and hence started the most adventurous time of my life. The first rapid was a level one. It kinda scared me. Then came level two and scared me even more. Then, with Anuj in the front, came level three and scared the shit outta me (and as was evident, the others as well). Then it was my turn to press down the front of the raft in the next rapid. It was a level two and after level three, I kinda enjoyed it. Then I was ready to leave my position and go back but no one came forward for the position and neither did the guide make me shift place. I was alarmed when I heard that the next rapid was a level four. I saw the two rafts in front of us, heading into it. One raft disappeared behind the waves for a second and then popped up on top of another wave. It was evident that I needed to prepare myself mentally for this as I knew it was going to be scary. Just before we hit the rapid, we all roared and shouted to buck ourselves up. We fought the big waves, they came like a monsters and did their best to topple us over. At one time, our raft was nearly 90 degrees and of course I, pressing the raft down in the front was almost standing straight when this happened. It was scary but we were all shouting and doing our best to not get thrown into the water. It was great fun. Jumping into the river wasn’t. It took me far away from the raft and I had to shout for help. I was rescued in time. I did get spooked by this event. So I forced myself to do cliff jumping, to get rid of the fear, which I otherwise wouldn’t have. I saw many people getting terrorized and running back away instead of jumping into the water when ordered by the instructor to JUMP! I shiver ran down my spine when I jumped. What the heck it felt strange, I was falling, falling falling and then SPLASH! When I opened my eyes, I was inside the water and my feet had stirred up quite a bit of sandy bottom into the water. On then we boarded our raft again and set off for Rishikesh. We sang on the way after crossing the last rapid. We also made new friends from Delhi. After we came out and got dressed, my system started to shut down again. All the adrenalin had made me active through the rafting and jumping but now the reality took over, I was under-slept and very tired. The 1km ride to the eatery was an ordeal. I hogged down a ton of Rajasthani food. We found a room to stay in and as soon as I lay down on the bed, I lost my sleep again. I saw Anuj on the border of dreams and reality, so I picked up my pillow and beat the shit out of his dreams. Now we were both sleepless and kept chatting. Just when sleep took over again, Anuj thought it was the perfect time for revenge…I was sleepless again. We started chatting again. God knows when we slept. I just remember waking up first for I can’t sleep late into the day. I woke up at 6:30am. I waited till 7:00 before putting loud rock music in my cell phone to totally destroy Anuj’s peace. We got dressed and crossed the Laxman Jhula on the bike and stopped for tea on the other side. It was great sitting there and enjoying tea and watching myriad colors of people’s attire and the deluge of different kind of people from different places in India and abroad. We then set out for Herbertpur and as we crossed Dehradun, we stopped at many places to try the different street food. It was a Sunday so the traffic was easy too. The girls at Dehradun were a treat to watch and mildly flirt with. We had fun. After Dehradun, we stopped at a few places to have Ganne ka juice and citrus juice at roadside thelas. This’s something I dread otherwise and since childhood it was the first time I actually did so. I reached my sister’s place by 12noon. Sarah, my niece had arranged flowers for me but was too shy to talk to me. I was also very happy to see that Jeri, my sister’s Je(sse)-Ri(ti) cocker spaniel, was doing well. We stayed at my sis’s place for quite some time. I chatted with di and Sarah and Anuj kept Danny busy. We ate light lunch, filled our bottles, clicked some humming birds and started off for Chandigarh in the hot hot hot hot weather. It was dry and very very hot and windy; we call this wind “Loo”. We sped off through Paonta and just when the hills started, the bike started to wobble; we had a flat. There was jungle on one side and when we stopped in the isolated place, monkeys gathered at a distance. Anuj asked for lift to the nearest puncture shop but returned empty handed. The shop owner refused to send any help and said that if we needed any, the only way was to bring the bike to the shop. After dragging the monster for a distance, Anuj had a great idea. He filled air into the flat tyre with the pump and I rode it as far as it would go and then wait for Anuj to reach. We kept doing this till we reached the shop. I was dead tired and so was Anuj. All the cheese and bread that we thought we needn’t have brought, was made short work of. The sun was about to set when we started again. I sped off as fast as could through the hills and reached to other side. We stopped at Black Mango eatery (just after Kala Amb where T and I used to break our journey) and had tea and namkeen…we ate it all. Then started the most daunting leg of the journey, the rest of the riding was in the dark. The oncoming traffic was on high beam most of the time and I could only guess what lie ahead on the road, a pot-hole, a bullock cart, for I could see nothing in the glare. It was a close call nearly thrice. It was night but what a bloody hot night despite the absence of the sun. We reached IMTECH by 9pm. I downed half of Anuj’s beer and rushed back home.
In the thirty four thousand kilometers I’d ridden before, I’d never faced a flat!! I realized that I was exceptionally lucky to have never run into a technical problem all the time I was riding to desolate places with my girlfriend. That revelation really spooked me in retrospect. I cannot imagine what we’d do or what’d happen had something like this happened, the umpteen times we were exploring places. Today morning I accepted that I was moving without a flat on borrowed time, in fact this trip was an eye opener. Thankfully it happened in the best possible situation; I wasn’t with a girl and I wasn’t alone, in fact I was with a great guy who stabilized me and eased my burden in the emergency. So today, a week hence and before I rode long again, I went to the motor-market to learn how to fix a flat (I’ve written about that experience as well elsewhere). This trip was a fulfilling one for me as a rider. On the one side, it had a crash, a flat, the avoidable night riding, sleepy riding, extreme hot weather, hill driving, heavy traffic driving whereas on the other it went through beautiful roads with breathtaking views, had a great company, even met my sis, try things I normally never would, had the best adventure till date and boy oh boy…it was TOTAL FUN!
And boy oh boy what a productive Sunday it has been, I cleaned my room, watched eons of TV, went to the lab, joined a biker club and made new friends, exercised, wrote two posts for my blog and ate great parent cooked food. It’s a beautiful life and it’s great to be thirty nothing...heck! but there's are tons of things still left to do.