No Honking on 7th April

Yeah! It’s an initiative taken by the traffic authorities to curb noise pollution in the city and I’ll do my bit by avoiding the yellow button on my bike. My friend Paul, a married man (my sympathies) expressed his opinion that the initiative to keep the noise in check should not be limited to traffic; the same to be extended to grumbling wives as well.

Veering back from the dangerous wives to our safer roads, I have already started to avoid honking and I only reach out for the horn when absolutely necessary. And to be honest, I’ve not yet drawn the line that will define ‘Absolutely Necessary’. The last two days since I’m observing controlled aggression on the roads, if it can be called so, I’ve come across many instances which, only days before, would have made me involuntarily reach out for the blaring horn... hmmm... I’m wondering if I could call it blaring ‘coz my bike actually lets out a meek beep for its horn and if put to a test, it can even be humbled by a bleating sheep. Two instances from the last two days should be enough to tell you how serious I am about avoiding the horn (or the beep), though I was never honk happy. The first was when I was headed home yesterday. It was around 11pm when there was less traffic on the roads and much less pedestrians and I was doing a casual 40kms on my bike when, without warning, a pedestrian decided to cross the road without as much as looking behind for oncoming traffic. Though, he was at a distance, just about enough for me to apply my brakes to avoid him, and which I did, I avoided using the horn and yelled ‘OYE!’ at him. That was enough to send him scurrying back to the footpath and the scared look on his face that my ‘OYE!’ triggered gave me immense glee. The second instance was early morning today on my way to the office. The traffic at Andheri station was bumper to bumper and I kept my bike on the left where I could negotiate it through narrow gaps left between the footpath and the other vehicles when I came across a girl walking gaily, not on the footpath but on the only part of the road from whence me and the other bikes could escape the traffic, thus obstructing our mobility. I gave a meek beep, to no avail. Much as I wanted to, I resisted the urge to keep my thumb on the horn. Instead I roared ‘OH AUNTY!’ and that remark seemed to draw her out of her thoughts, if she was thinking any. She scowled at me in a way that said she expected me to melt away instantly. However, I didn’t and thankfully, she gave way for me and the other bikes to pass. But, am I glad to have resisted the impulse to honk. As long as jaywalkers infest the streets, the desire to honk out loud is bound to surface.

Nevertheless, these instances would not deter me and I continue to play my own small part in the just cause to keep noise pollution in check, not just for that one day to come, but for all the days henceforth.

Hair today, gone tomorrow!

I enter. I look. I want to do the u-turn and scram like there’s no tomorrow. Beat it. Shoo. Thoughts implore me to make it for the door and out, but I stand my ground.

It’s been two years since I’ve been growing my hair and now my locks fall below my shoulder blades (why am I even thinking about blades here). Though I had sported long hair right from my college days, I’ve never grown it long enough to sport a pony tail. This is the first time that I’ve grown my hair this long and it’s an awesome feeling to let your hair down when there’s a breeze blowing or go headbanging when at a rock concert. Now, as I stand inside the salon, I wonder if I’d do the right thing to chop it off. The barber (or the hair stylist, whatever term each of us is familiar with) with his pair of scissors looks more to me like a barbarian wielding a sword. As I wait my turn, a part of me tells me that I’d do better to get the job done tomorrow. However, I was glued to the seat and when my turn came, I moved animatedly to the seat where there’d be some action. I couldn’t disguise the contempt in my voice when I told the barbarian to chop it off. Having told him how I wanted my hair cut, I gasped in horror as the first snips took away huge chunks of me, off me. I simply closed my eyes and relaxed (or at least tried to) even as my ears picked the frenzied hacking and slashing sounds taking place in the vicinity and transmitted them to my brain like some journalist reporting ‘Breaking News’ LIVE. Every time I opened my eyes, I could but feel remorse for the guinea pig reflected by the mirror. Now there was no looking back and when I actually tried, the barbarian rebuked me for behaving like a three year old. After what seemed like an eternity, his job done, I saw him appreciating his work of art like a gardener who had finished working on a hedge. Though I wanted to comment on the same, words failed me; the damage was long done. And somehow, I thought it wouldn’t matter to him. Never before did I think that my face resembled the moon for its shape and now when I looked in the mirror it looked mooner than the moon.

After the tryst with the barbarian, the first person (and not the only one) to express shock and disbelief at my appearance was the one I’d least expected to. My mom.

Catastrophe

Wedding Blues?

Yesterday, I accompanied my mother to wedding, that of a neighbor from Bhandup (where I resided earlier and spent the better part of my life to date). It has been four years since I shifted to Andheri and from the time I’d shifted, I’ve been to Bhandup only twice. So, I was expecting to meet most of my childhood friends, if not all, at the wedding reception. And so I did. Not only my friends but also the elders, whom we fondly referred to as uncles and aunties. Also, expected was the fact that I’d have to face the evitable questions from those folks “So, when are you getting married?”

This question has been asked me numerous times and I’m used to answering it depending on the occasion and the person asking it.

Here I’m listing down a few of my reactions to the forbidden yet oft asked question:

My favorite answer to that question is: I’m lucky, I guess.

Married? What’s that? (Yesterday, I was shameless enough to reply with this, even as I was attending the reception of one ;)

Sometimes, when asked the question, I complement the person for his/her attire, thus veering the person away from the topic.

Many a times I break into a run without replying and steer as far away as possible.

Yesterday, when a girl asked me the question, I replied: I thought you’d never ask. She scooted. I did too, albeit in the opposite direction.


P.S.: I’m running out off answers to the question. Any further alternatives are welcome and will be appreciated.

I am...... So am I.

It’s been a while since I blogged and as I put pen to paper, rather fingers to the keyboard, (me thinks that the pen and paper expression would do well only in archaic folders now) it feels rather odd. Krash used to coax me to continue blogging. Rod once taunted me by calling me an R.I.P. blogger. Despite this, I wouldn’t: not that I cared a damn. A part of me always wanted to continue updating my blog space while the other part always procrastinated and we all know which prevailed. I wonder why I postpone things which I would really want to do.

Now that I’ve finally got over my other half and I continue writing, I smile to myself and say 'see, its the victory of good over evil'. 'What rot' chides my other half, 'By the way, do you remember you have four tasks still lined up before you call it a day?' Omigosh! I minimize my blog and get on with my work. But, before I wind up, I am determined to at least write something and I can almost hear myself say 'Hey! We can do this tomorrow, you see.' I keep going, all the more determined to finish what I started. Now when I’m satisfied with what I’ve got, I think about the other voice that keeps me from doing what I want. I shrug and laugh out loud at the thought that I’m a schizophrenic.... 'So am I.'

Rumours!

Rumours can work wonders. It can ruin you beyond salvation, but if proved baseless it can also raise you to a level previously conceived improbable, if not impossible. Such was the state of affairs at Maina Gul on Thursday that a curious whisper from a colleague in the office went from ear to ear before it spread like wild fire. Word got around that Ash, the most eligible bachelor in town er. . in Amboli… hmm..Maina Gul, who had accompanied his parents to Mangalore had got engaged. That set the cat among the pigeons; would resentment among girls be a better expression? I guess that would explain things literally, but i would stick to cat among pigeons. To get back to the point, tongues were wagging incessantly. Girls began to voice their opinion openly that they did not approve of this ungentlemanly behaviour. Of course, when pretty young things engage cupid to aim their love darts at you, the one thing that you are not expected to do is sneak off to Mangalore and get yourself engaged. Little wonder then that when Ash entered office, work ground to a halt. The questions hurled at Ash intensified with every passing moment though shutterbugs were kept at bay. Even stout denials from Ash were met with accusing stares. It was only when the near and dear ones intervened and an official statement, to the effect that Ash still remained an eligible bachelor, was released that the raging storm was quelled. Amboli, if not Andheri, heaved a collective sigh of relief. Ash now rose to a level unequaled. Accusing stares are again replaced by loving glances shot through fluttering eyelids. Pretty young things have again started engaging the services of cupid to hurl love darts at Ash. In a nutshell, it's business as usual.

DDW celebrates eight years!

The hangover’s died out. When I say this, I mean the hangover of the booze has.

Its five days since we have returned from our annual offsite. The three days at Murud Janjira were absolutely fun packed and spiced with incidents, many of which I remember and some that I don’t. We left office at around 4 in the evening and Raghu and Ivan made us assemble at the gate. They had arranged for some gunny bags and the bus was parked at a distance. We all had to step into the gunny bag and hop across to the bus. The fun had begun and it was a sight to behold, even for the people who were passing by but decided it was a better idea to play spectators to people playing Kangaroos. It was a while before everybody had boarded the bus; the singing had started before the bus moved and by the time we reached Sion the Vodka, Rum, Whisky and the Beer bottles were out. We reached the Resort at Murud by 11pm and we refreshed and assembled at 12 to raise a toast to DDW for completing 8 years. Minutes later, we could make out one voice above the din and it belonged to Vikas. Vikas had gone Ting-Tong i.e. he was sozzled. Moments later we had to drag him to his bed. A couple of rounds later, we all decided to call it a day as Ivan and Raghu had planned some activity for the morrow and we went to check on Vikas before we hit the sack. Vikas was changing his position on the bed so frequently that he was almost rotating and I was filled with a desire to switch off the fan and suspend him from the ceiling instead and conserve electricity. The next day our people threw a bucket of water on him to awaken him. He took it in the right spirit, the gentleman that he is. That day we were split into groups and each group had to make a presentation. It was eventful and fun but I won’t go into depth here. Night was again booze and music and dance. However, I had developed a headache and I hit the sack early.

The next morning Ivan and Raghu split us again into teams with me leading the Ferrari team, Ash leading the Red Bull team ('Double Bull' team, as he preferred to call it when he was a Double vodka down and 'Bull Shit' Team as we perceived it), Mel leading the Toyota team and Santosh leading the McLaren team. We were sent on a treasure hunt with clues leading to other clues back to back. Though my team was the last to leave the compound, we managed to gain lost ground when all the teams had to go to the market for the other clues and the autorickshaw that we hailed took us hither-tither at Ferrari speed. Team Ferrari was the first to reach the treasure and we won a gift voucher for a cool Rs. 5000. Celebrations for the win began and the booze started flowing while simultaneously we started playing a game of underarm cricket. I cannot recollect when I got drunk. One of the pictures, which captured me bowling, is enough to convince me that I was. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought that it’s a picture of someone trying to offer a piece of meat to some croc and is ready to spring back in case the croc decides to go for a bigger chunk. However we won the match too; don’t ask me how. We headed out to the beach and after some good fun in the water, we came back to the resort. This was where the camera captured me as the pirate, Capn. Jack Popat. After a good shower, we played a stupid game which involved passing the mint Polo using only the toothpicks in our mouth. Little wonder then, the pictures leave an impression of a party for ‘Happy’ people. I went to my room and grabbed a couple of hours’ sleep before I joined the gang for the party around the bon-fire. After a while, we started playing cards and lady unluck, miss fortune, simply refused to leave my side at I lost a good deal. We partied till wee hours in the morning and I had only gone to sleep when they woke me up so we could head back to Mumbai. I do not recollect taking the shower, but people tell me I did. I was having difficulty in packing my bag and my dear friend Ivan came to my aid. That ass simply dumped everything in. Before long I felt the sling on my shoulder and we were on our way out. We had lunch at Patilwadi before we took the route to Mumbai and as I boarded the bus I made myself a Tribal Mix(vodka in the bottle of a soft drink). Mel joined me in boozing and after a couple of good ones, I was on a roll again. I was full of the right SPIRIT but filled with the wrong one. I was blurting out stupid cracks and having a good time laughing and frolicking when the Guru Dutt in Ash came to the fore and he decided to go on the wrong side of the lens and capture all. Ash now has enough dope on me to blackmail me for a long time. I’m glad that the videos featuring me are not uploaded on the net. Thank God for small mercies. If my antics were revealed to my mom, I’m left with no doubt that she would disown me and expel me from the house with immediate effect. It’s been the best picnic for me in a very long time.

We were celebrating eight years and I was on cloud nine.


P.S.: I’m feeling terribly lazy to upload the pictures of the picnic. Those of you who wanna take a peek can check ‘em out at where my dear friend Ash has uploaded it. The sequence is page 4 bottom to page 1 up. Please do not check ‘em at http://www.flickr.com/photos/57218147@N00/page4/