Surprise...

Yesterday, my wife had a surprise in store for me. I had no clue about the birthday party that she had arranged for me in the evening.

I was feeling dull and lazy by the end of work hours. I called her up to inform that I was starting from office. I could hear some noise in the background and questioned her. She attributed that to one of our neighbor’s kid who was there. Even then it did not strike me. She asked for some time as she was leaving to a tailor’s shop near by. Though I said that I am fine with that, I started home. It was also starting to drizzle. So I wanted to reach home early.

On reaching home, I saw some celebration stickers hanging on the door. It immediately stuck me that some thing was being planned. I hit the calling bell and saw no response. I peeped through the window to see a lot many of her friends from the apartment finishing of the arrangements. There was also this cute kid “Sanju”, who greeted me through the window.

When I entered, I was blushing and try avoiding it with a joke – “Birthday parties are meant for cute-little kids and not for monsters like me”.

I quickly freshened up as I was little drenched in the rain. Soon, I got to cut the cake. Each one in the gathered crowd had their due share in making fun of me with a few naughty tricks as well.

Everyone but me knew about the event. Even my buddies at office knew about it and were in sync with her in getting this arranged. It was a planned event. It was kind of a mixed feeling for me.

There was no celebration of any sort for the last two years as I was not in the country. And when I asked my better half, she points to that as the primary reason behind the party. This was the first birthday event after our marriage. I guess that was the bigger reason and she wanted to make it a special and memorable one for us.

It was nice to get wished by that many people. There were around fifteen people. They were mostly from the apartment apart from a few colleagues, friends, bro and sis-in-law. It would have been great to have my closest of buddies together as well. Most of them seemed to be enjoying the evening with jokes and pranks flying all around. I was forced to forget my floor or wall getting dirty or my couch getting a stain.

Synonymous to the T-Shirt that I wore – “Always 18!”, I was indeed feeling younger by the end of the day. We ended the night with a dinner along with my bro and sis-in-law.

Driving in Bangalore

For the benefit of every Tom, Dick and Harry visiting India and daring to drive on Indian roads, I am offering a few hints for survival. They are applicable to every place in India except Bihar, where life outside a vehicle is only marginally safer.

Indian road rules broadly operate within the domain of karma where you do your best, and leave the results to your insurance company. The hints are as follows: Do we drive on the left or right of the road? The answer is "both". Basically you start on the left of the road, unless it is occupied. In that case, go to the right, unless that is also occupied. Then proceed by occupying the next available gap, as in chess. Just trust your instincts, ascertain the direction, and proceed. Adherence to road rules leads to much misery and occasional fatality. Most drivers don't drive, but just aim their vehicles in the generally intended direction.

Don't you get discouraged or underestimate yourself except for a belief in reincarnation; the other drivers are not in any better position. Don't stop at pedestrian crossings just because some fool wants to cross the road. You may do so only if you enjoy being bumped in the back.

Pedestrians have been strictly instructed to cross only when traffic is moving slowly or has come to a dead stop because some minister is in town. Still some idiot may try to wade across, but then, let us not talk ill of the dead.

Blowing your horn is not a sign of protest as in some countries. We horn to express joy, resentment, frustration, romance and bare lust (two brisk blasts),or just mobilize a dozing cow in the middle of the bazaar. Keep informative books in the glove compartment. You may read them during traffic jams, while awaiting the chief minister's motorcade, or waiting for the rainwater to recede when over ground traffic meets underground drainage.

Occasionally you might see what looks like a UFO with blinking colored lights and weird sounds emanating from within. This is an illuminated bus, full of happy pilgrims singing bhajans. These pilgrims go at breakneck speed, seeking contact with the Almighty, often meeting with success.

Auto Rickshaw (Baby Taxi): The result of a collision between a rickshaw and an automobile, this three-wheeled vehicle works on an external combustion engine that runs on a mixture of kerosene oil and creosote. This triangular vehicle carries iron rods, gas cylinders or passengers three times its weight and dimension, at an unspecified fare. After careful geometric calculations, children are folded and packed into these auto rickshaws until some children in the periphery are not in contact with the vehicle at all. Then their school bags are pushed into the microscopic gaps all round so those minor collisions with other vehicles on the road cause no permanent damage. Of course, the peripheral children are charged half the fare and also learn Newton's laws of motion enroute to school. Auto-rickshaw drivers follow the road rules depicted in the film Ben Hur, and are licensed to irritate.

Mopeds: The moped looks like an oil tin on wheels and makes noise like an electric shaver. It runs 30 miles on a teaspoon of petrol and travels at break-bottom speed. As the sides of the road are too rough for a ride, the moped drivers tend to drive in the middle of the road; they would rather drive under heavier vehicles instead of around them and are often "mopped" off the tarmac.

Leaning Tower of Passes: Most bus passengers are given free passes and during rush hours, there is absolute mayhem. There are passengers hanging off other passengers, who in turn hang off the railings and the overloaded bus leans dangerously, defying laws of gravity but obeying laws of surface tension. As drivers get paid for overload (so many Rupees per kg of passenger), no questions are ever asked. Steer clear of these buses by a width of three passengers.

One-way Street: These boards are put up by traffic people to add jest in their otherwise drab lives. Don't stick to the literal meaning and proceed in one direction. In metaphysical terms, it means that you cannot proceed in two directions at once. So drive as you like, in reverse throughout, if you are the fussy type. Least I sound hypercritical, I must add a positive point also. Rash and fast driving in residential areas has been prevented by providing a "speed breaker"; two for each house. This mound, incidentally, covers the water and drainage pipes for that residence and is left untarred for easy identification by the corporation authorities, should they want to recover the pipe for year-end accounting.

Night driving on Indian roads can be an exhilarating experience for those with the mental make up of Genghis Khan. In a way, it is like playing Russian roulette, because you do not know who amongst the drivers is loaded. What looks like premature dawn on the horizon turns out to be a truck attempting a speed record. On encountering it, just pull partly into the field adjoining the road until the phenomenon passes.

Our roads do not have shoulders, but occasional boulders. Do not blink your lights expecting reciprocation. The only dim thing in the truck is the driver, and with the peg of illicit arrack (alcohol) he has had at the last stop, his total cerebral functions add up to little more than a naught. Truck drivers are the James Bonds of India, and are licensed to kill. Often you may encounter a single powerful beam of light about six feet above the ground. This is not a super motorbike, but a truck approaching you with a single light on, usually the left one. It could be the right one, but never get too close to investigate. You may prove your point posthumously.

Author: An unknown dutchman who spent two years in Bangalore.

Gone are the days...

When the school reopened in June,
And we settled in our new desks and benches.
When we queued up in book depot,
And got our new books and notes.
When we wanted two Sundays and no Mondays, yet
Managed to line up daily for the morning prayers.
We learnt writing with slates and pencils, and
Progressed To fountain pens and ball pens and then micro tips.
We began drawing with crayons and evolved to
Colour pencils and finally sketch pens.
We started calculating first with tables and then with
Clarke's tables and advanced to calculators and computers.
When we chased one another in the corridors in
Intervals, and returned to the classrooms drenched in sweat.
When we had lunch in classrooms, corridors,
Playgrounds, under the trees and even in cycle shed.
When all the colors in the world,
Decorated the campus on the Second Saturdays.
When a single P.T. period in the week's Time Table,
Was awaited more eagerly than the monsoons.
When cricket was played with writing pads as bats,
And Neckties and socks rolled into balls.
When few played "kabadi" and "Kho-Kho" in scorching sun,
While others simply played "book cricket" in the confines of classroom.
Of fights but no conspiracies,
Of Competitions but seldom jealousy.
When we used to watch Live Cricket telecast,
In the opposite house in Intervals and Lunch breaks.
When few rushed at 1:45 to "Conquer" window seats in our School bus.
While few others had "Big Fun", "Chock-o-bar","kulfi ice" and "Pepsi" at 2:00 Clock.
Gone are the days Of Sports Day, and the annual School Day,
And the one-month long preparations for them.
Gone are the days Of the stressful Quarterly,
Half Yearly and Annual Exams, And the most enjoyed holidays after them.
Of tenth and twelfth standards, when we Spent almost the whole year writing revision tests.
We learnt, we enjoyed, we played, we won, we lost,
We laughed, we cried, we fought, we thought.
With so much fun in them, so many friends,
So much experience, all this and more.
Gone are the days when we used to talk for hours with our friends.
Now we don't have time to say a HI.
Gone are the days when we played games on the road.
Now we code on the road with laptop.
Gone are the days when we saw stars shining at night.
Now we see stars when our code doesn't work.
Gone are the days when we sat to chat with friends on grounds.
Now we chat in chat rooms.....
Gone are the days where we studied just to pass.
Now we study to save our job
Gone are the days where we had no money in our pockets
and fun filled on our hearts
Now we have the atm as well as credit card but with an empty heart
Gone are the days where we shouted on the road.
Now we don t shout even at home
Gone are the days where we got lectures from all.
Now we give lectures to all... like the one I'm doing now....
Gone are the days
But not the memories, which will be
Lingering in our hearts for ever and ever and Ever and ever and Ever.....
NO MATTER HOW BUSY YOU ARE,
DONT FORGET TO LIVE THE LIFE THAT STILL EXISTS.
IT WONT BE THERE FOR EVER.

Author: Unknown.
Dated: For Ever.

The beginning...

Of late, I have been hearing about blogs all around. Until recently I had given it a damn and did not bother to look into the blogger's world. But when I just peeped to see how it was, I found it interesting. It was amazing to see so many people having so much to talk about and comment on.

I guess you need not be a professional writer to be blogging. And that is where I see the uniqueness in each posting. So here I am creating my own Blog space. I doubt if I would be taking this up seriously. But I thought there is nothing wrong in giving it a shot.

Kamzee.