A day in the life of LIFE

I always wanted to write this particular clichéd statement as the opening line in one of my pieces. And today I’ve got the opportunity to do so. “The time is 2:05 a.m. and I am writing this blog in the chill of the wintry night!” Ah, that feels nice. Almost as if a heavy burden is off my back. As I sit back, illuminated by the light of the incandescent reading lamp across my bed in the guest house, the warmth of the Lux Cotts wool thermal adds a quarter of a degree to my body temperature and protects me from being transformed into a frozen Neanderthal mammoth of the previous millennium.

Yes, the minimum temperature that was recorded yesterday was 6.5 degrees Celsius and that is a degree above normal, I am told. Wow! Wonder how close we are to the Arctic Circle. And imagine a wedding party that is running late into the night, funding Himesh Reshmiya’s nasal implant expenses by playing his constipated songs at this wee hour, asking people for donations. Don’t worry Himesh ji, Just as Delhi washed their clothes with Surf Excel to collect Rs.5 Lakhs for a noble cause, your music shall be promoted in a similar manner.

My first week end in Noida has been good fun. With work pressures during the week soaring like the BSE sensex, I was left with little choice, but to work late nights, of course with intermittent supplements of Maggi tomato Soup. I entered the wee hours of Saturday morning, trying to pull out something like the magician’s rabbit, so that my client would be convinced about my skills in using Microsoft Power point. Post that, my boss took me along to his residence (and I am grateful to him for that) and made me devour hot and good home food that turned my deep blue frozen skin into pale pink. As a guest I also got to have a hefty breakfast the next morning and almost felt like staying over for lunch like the shameless Govinda in one of his ‘C’ grade flicks. But as luck would have it, I was expecting a call from my Packers and had to scamper back to my ‘future’ residence to receive the goods.

I have shed all inhibitions and never miss an opportunity to gorge home made food, which explains my immediate acceptance of an invitation by a colleague for dinner at his place. It was a re-union of sorts, with the boss gang and a couple of ex-colleagues meeting up on a breezy Saturday night.

Sunday was lazy and it was nice to watch Shah Rukh’s versatility and Ekta Kapoor’s triviality on channels like Sony Max and Star Plus which,way back in Chennai were portrayed as taboo channels and hence safely quarantined in the set top box, thanks to the Sun network monopoly.

The evening went in savoring some hot jalebis and pakodas that set the perfect stage to launch into a movie @ Imax in Spice Mall, and what could be better than, “My name’s Bond! Brooke Bond!” sorry James Bond. Well that’s the reason I guess Brooke Shields did not wed James Bond. Quite a decent flick but I would have preferred Pierce Brosnan in the lead role. The movie review would form the topic of another post.

Life’s suddenly got into fast forward 9x mode with so many things happening in such less time, and all I can do is “Bhaagam Bhaag”.
Whoever said “If everything is under your control, you ain’t going fast enough” was dead right about it! More to come on “Discovery of Delhi”….

It’s been 3 days into Delhi/Noida Life, and so far so good. The last week was enjoyable, yet taxing , with myself traveling around the South of the Sub continent, as the next opportunity to do so would not be expected in the near future.

A quick trip to Hyderabad to meet up with a cousin, to another journey into the beauty of the Agumbe Ghats enroute to the famed Jog Water falls, peppered with ‘return to base camp’ sojourns at home, eleventh hour shopping for my Delhi stint, created quite a packed schedule of a whistle stop tour.

In fact, as I prepared for the packers to move my stuff from Bangalore, my house resembled a gypsy camp, and looking at my voluminous luggage, Mom was almost certain I had a secret family whom I was shifting without her knowledge to my new destination. What’s more, she commented in full filmi ishtyle, “Beta, yeh sab saaman tumhare pas kahan se aaye? Bata do ki tum waise kaam nahin kar rahe ho joh tumhe karna nahin chahiye?”

Jokes apart, my exit from Bangalore resembled the scene from the flick “Hyderabad Blues”, with my mom making the choicest of dishes, giving the soundest of advices and pressing a couple of hundred rupee notes in my palm to be handed over to Lakshmamma, our maid, as a good will gesture, which made me realize that basic instincts hardly change.

The flight to Delhi was nice. My maiden flight since February last, this was my first departure from Bangalore airport in 21 years. Things have changed, and air travel has become affordable these days. But strangely mindsets still need time to adapt. I overheard an inquisitive visitor asking an airport staffer, “Bhaisaab, Platform ticket kahan milega?”

I had a south east Asian as my co-passenger, who read some weird book the script of which resembled the one used in the Harappan civilization. He seemed sick and tired and I did not want to bother him with my conversations, as I had the pretty air hostesses at my beck and call who compensated well enough for my disinterested co-passenger.

Just as I landed at the Indira Gandhi International airport, I changed my attire from a coastal beach guy to an Eskimo from Antarctica, and have never come out of it for the last three days. As I got into the cab, I told the driver, “Noida pola ma?” (Can we go to Noida?) A 150 minute flight did not remind me to revise and update my regional lingo from Tamil/Kannada to Hindi.

The temperatures have been tolerable out here. However, a turtle neck sweater, a leather jacket, a monkey cap, muffler, woolen gloves and socks, follow me like Karna’s golden Kavach in the Mahabharata. Finding south Indian food has become as common as India winning an Olympic gold medal.

A Mallu colleague(LI) took me to one Laxmi Café in Sector 27 where we gobbled up rasam, sambhar and rice in true “Saddi Dilli” style, though I had to treat him for finding the place. The bill made me believe I was eating at Saravana Bhavan in New Jersey, and also brought up the attractive proposition of quitting my IT job and opening a “Madrasi in Dilli” café. Food was decent, unlike the Masala Dosa that I had sampled in Badrinath a few years ago which tasted like anything but the Dosa.

The interesting observation about Noida has been that there are lot of well built nomadic bulls which keep wandering on the roads. Wonder why opportunistic India has still not cashed in on the opportunity to employ them. Roads are wider with traffic equally unruly, rest seems normal. In case someone tells you S/He is chilling out, it means s/he’s actually chilled out thanks to the freezing cold. There are no medium budget hotels easily accessible. Either it’s the road side dhaba or the above average premium eat-outs that are available leaving very few options to choose from. Any tips in this direction are welcome.The beauty quotient (both natural and human *wink*) of Delhi/NCR is considered one of the best in the nation and I am all set to explore the same. So till I get back on those details, “O bhaiyya ! do kadak chai banana, malai maar ke!”

I m finally back! For those of you who managed to notice my disappearance into oblivion, and mistook me for Anant Gupta, the rich kid who was kidnapped from Noida recently, thank you for bestowing me with celebrity status.

Yes, after Prince(no not the black and white computer game that we played 10 years ago @ NIIT centers. It is the boy rescued from the well who is now modeling for Kamadhenu water pumps), Anant is getting Bollywood offers for Prakash Jha’s latest film “Anarth ka Anth Anant ke sangh”.

A lot of developments have happened in the current week, apart from the kidnap and release of Anant. My sojourn in Chennai is coming to an end. Though I would not be flying off to distant lands or the greener pastures of the clichéd Amrica, like in most Subhash Ghai flicks, Mom is still holding the tip of her saree’s pallu, brushing aside my sweat and saying, “ Sambhal ke rehna beta, Duniya bohot buri hai”.

I am making my way to the Rajdhani of India, Saddi Dilli. The transition to the Hindi Heartland after 2.5 years in Tamizh strong hold would play a big role in sensitizing me to the much talked about cross cultural divide in the Indian Sub continent.

Chennai has been good to me, in more ways than one. After all, this is the city where I started my “career” in the hallowed portals of the IT industry where I took pride in spending my self-earned rupee, though not returning Dad’s ATM card in the first month, till I got my own.

My Tamizh has improved a lot, what once sounded Latin, now sounds like Malayalam, so I consider that as an improvement. But of course, my brush with corporate honchos is courtey: Chennai. And the food courts and eating joints’ yellow pages is going to be published by me soon.The most important thing though is that it has given me the confidence to survive in any hostile surrounding.

I was just listing out the changes likely to be encountered by me thorough this shift.

A change from dosa and vada to aloo prantha, from A.R. Rehman to Daler Mehendi, from Vanakkam Aiyya to Jai Hind Sirjee, is going to get some time to internalized, and the last thing I would want to say to the Auto wallah in Delhi is Noida Varingla?

But this is going to be ‘some’ experience to say the least. Ab Dilli dur nahin..

Logging out from Chennai..More on Delhi and my crazy travels in the next post!

F.R.I.E.N.D.S.: The second best thing after the family or at times even on par with the latter.It's quite interesting to note that we spend most of our waking lives in the company of colleagues and friends rather than our own family.

And to have a bunch of good friends is like being blessed.

It's a wonderful feeling to be in the company of friends who are willing to listen to you, no matter what your levels of verbal diarrhoea are :).

I can as well figure out the readers' sentimental emotions that have begun to flow like the overflowing Coums of Chennai city.

But yes, today was a great evening.An off the cuff program to the beach with a 'gang' of four other friends was indeed invigorating. The beauty about dynamic decision is the time saved which otherwise goes into long drawn planning that eventually results in zilch results.

D,P,H,E (codes sound like the logical reasoning section of a campus recruitment paper. What's more the letter codes actually match the all pervading Phoebie of the original series) and myself embarked on a mission to visit the visibly overloaded Beasant Nagar Beach, the drive leading up to which reminds me of the wide and tree laden road through Cubbon Park in Bangalore.

D was as usual in the mood of being relaxed and care free. I dont think you need much when you are an IIM pass out, running your own business and live in a cool pent houseon the 11th floor of a plush apartment in the heart of the city.

H, the no-nonsense guy of the group was trying to relate his experiences as part of the German entourange, intermittently munching on some mango and corn.

P, who is currently creating a couple of her portfolios to get into modelling, was the late entrant and was specially requested by H to be part of the gang.:)

E, the philosopher contemplated on the essense of existence as the waves washed some sea shells ashore (that was not a tongue twister, was it?)

And myself as usual, in the greater interest of the rest of humanity, ended up making a fool of myself,voluntarily giving the rest of the 'junta' a chance to laugh their hearts out....at my expense of course. Screen shots from Dil Chahta Hai, struck a chord with all of us, though.

We then moved on to sample "Frankies",sponsored by P. Actually this was my first frankie (yes, unexpected things do happen in this world. In fact when I first comprehended the word "Franky" as a kid, i associated it with a mini Frankenstein) ..It tasted good, though somewhat like a hybid of chapathi,cutlet,taaza pyaz and some chilli chutney, all roled into one tissue.lol.

By the way,The next two weeks are going to decide what I would be doing in the next 10 years.More on that once I get through this fortnight.

Nonetheless, The light banter helped cheer us all up and re-align towards the Lakshya.

This post does sound esoteric. But the mist would rise as I elaborate in due course.

Special thanks to P for making 'MY' evening so memorable. :D

By the way, 'M' we did miss you :)

Yeh Dosti, Hum nahin todenge....Don first, Sholay next....[.]

P.S. - Sorry, no snaps this time..This was off the cuff right?So I am excused...:)

Okay!. Now where was I. Ah, yes…I got into the compartment only to discover that I was allocated a side upper, and this was almost equivalent to forcing a camel to enter an ant hill.(pardon the bad analogy!).Dad always told me not to look the gift horse in the mouth. All animal crackers apart, I was a little envious of the passengers who would enjoy their sleep on the “usual” berths.

Just then, a “boy” [used in the same analogy of the "child in the previous post here] appeared out of nowhere, with some heavy metal playing so loudly that even Professor Calculus (of Tintin fame) would be startled out of his slumber. The “boy” was vertically challenged [ should be just about 5.1 ft] but horizontally followed Charle’s law [Courtesy: Physical chemisty Class XI].

I requested the dude if he could swap his berth with mine for which he flatly refused.
Some courtesy, I thought! Meanwhile I turned my sight to a visibly “drunk” co-passenger uncle who was in pajamas and a white kurta and was making as many arrangements to get to sleep as if he were on a journey from Kashmir to Kanyakumari for the next 50 odd hours.

As everyone settled down in their berths, one person pointed to an unclaimed handbag that had been lying on a vacant berth for quite some time. Specially in the light of the recent train of events, the situation we had on our hands (George Bush lingo) was not to be taken lightly.

The RPF official soon swooped down, armed with an AK 47 raising quite a few brows around. It almost was a real life operation and it was not like the way it’s shown on TV. The bag was right behind me and God knew what it contained. Everyone expected the train to be halted and an IBN crew to arrive any moment and the 6221 would soon turn into the “Super Express” as in the famed movie “Burning Train”!

It was not funny at all, but I was still reminded of the serial “How I met your Mother” , where one of the episodes had Barney placing dummy suitcases on the conveyer belt to pose as tourists in the prospect of befriending fellow passengers of the fairer sex.

The hapless Railway attendant was summoned for interrogation if he had seen anything happening. The guy was scared out of his wits and thought he was being accused of the probable crime. He was asked to check if it belonged to any of the motormen. By now the panic factor started gripping everyone even as the cold conditioned air made us freeze.

One of passengers suggested we throw the bag out of the train. But what if it exploded on the track??

The TT was soon summoned to check if he owned the bag. When both responses turned out to be negative, the RPF office took great courage and tried opening the bag. The outer flap was opened. It had layered zips beneath. The first zip was opened with utmost care and lo behold! It was empty. But the bag was heavy and definitely had something in it. The second zip was being opened even as sweat dripped off many foreheads. And as the zip clicked open, “BOOM!” a bomb! thought everyone, only to realize that it was the long horn of the engine coupled with some track turbulence which had resulted in the toilet door in banging against the frame, with the loud bang.

As the bag was dug into, a couple of neatly pressed shirts came out..
A placebo! One of them commented…Next came an envelope..It must definitely have some design and maps, a passenger muttered. And what came out was currency of around 5000 Indian rupees. My My! 5k was his reward!!! Exclaimed one..

And to the sheer surprise of everyone, what accompanied the envelope was a letter addressed to a local blood bank and this was when all of thought this was actually not what we all imagined it to be.

A couple of passengers were asked to sign as witnesses for the amount found in the bag, lest the RPF be accused of devouring the cash. It was decided that the bag be handed over to the unclaimed baggage section in the next station.

Everyone left the coach at around 12:45..a.m. with no conclusion.

Meanwhile I was left with my side upper berth which was almost inconsequential now. Nonetheless there was a “smart” lady who had got in at Cantonment and apparently had been allotted the regular upper berth atop the drunken uncle in pajamahs. Now this was a task for “Superman”, I muttered and rushed to offer a swap which she readily agreed to. As I gleefully acknowledged the “Dumb Blonde” theory, I realized that I had obtained a raw bargain. The smart ”blonde” had given me a berth that was just above the entrance of the AC compartment and had three a/c blowers adjacent to it, emulating the atmosphere in the “Abirami Snow World” in Chennai.(Yes, in Chennai now-a-days, the rains are free but snow is still to be bought)

As I dreamt about anything other than the polar bear, I faintly heard some noises around me. Apparently they had found the owner of the bag in one of the other compartments and the attendant came to wake up the witnesses to testify the co-ordinates of the bag. There were some words flying here and there about the man “forgetting” his luggage and all that. But the RPF officer announced that the issue was resolved and he would tell us the details next morning. But we never got to listen to the details.

With teeth chattering, the drunk uncle snoring, the adventure still ringing, and with the door banging into my feet jutting out of the berth, It was almost day break by the time I could catch some sleep.

The last straw on the camel’s (my) back was the arrival of the 6221 an hour before schedule which had a probability of 1/2756984. To top it all, I had developed a heavy cold and have been coughing all week and am pampering myself with “Sud Tanni” (Hot water) as part of my daily menu.!! Achchooo!!