Visitors

Shankaran Kurup was sitting on the East verandah of his palatial mansion, reading the editorial page of the Financial Express. This had been his afternoon routine since many years now. He enjoyed his tea, along with keeping up to date with what was happening in the world of business. The breeze coming across the small pond made it all the more worthwhile.

The three people walked up from the southern end of the verandah. They came near his chair, and waited. A few moments later, Kurup looked up.

The one with the long grey hair looked at Kurup and nodded.
“Shall we go, Shankaran ?”
“Is it time already ? I still have a few things that I need to take care of”
“You have taken care of almost everything. You can relax now. Let others do their bit”

With a slight reluctance, Kurup got up. All four of them walked along the verandah, going into the house through the entrance near the prayer room. Just before going inside, Kurup looked back at the chair and smiled.

[Five hours later ...]

Good Evening, and welcome to News at 8. I am Nazneen. The king of the Indian publishing industry, Shankaran Kurup passed away today afternoon.
He was found dead in a chair on the verandah, at his house in Delhi. The cause of death has been declared as natural. He was 86. He is survived by his wife, three children, five grandchildren, two great-grandchildren, and his extended family of around 2,500 employees almost all over the world. … …

 

Room No. 09

The railway tracks were right next to the building where I was sitting. The afternoon breeze would bring in snatches of the pre-recorded voice of the train announcements. The announcer was informing everyone within earshot, of the imminent arrival of the 3:17 local to VT station, on platform number one.
Every few minutes, I could hear another train pass, probably carrying another big load of people to their respective destinations … offices, colleges, movie-theatres, their homes.
There was also the clamour of metallic noises from Balwant Auto Garage, on the street below. Mr. Balwant and his army of young, grease-covered mechanics used to be busy all through the day. At any given point in time, they had half a dozen cars being repaired simultaneously, for the wealthy elite from this predominantly middle-class suburb.

Thankfully, the weather was pleasant for this time of the year, considering that it was March and this was Mumbai. The fans above me were whirring away at a leisurely pace, circulating a little cool air around the room.

There were 26 people in the room, and at least 20 of them were teenagers. And even then, being surrounded by a cacophony of sounds, there was pin-drop silence inside that room. I guess the only reason for that being that all those youngsters, including me, were facing the first ever public examination of their life - and this was the first day of it. We were all busy writing the ‘English’ language exam, of the Maharashtra State Board S.S.C Examinations.

In such a scenario, I did not expect to be using such small benches & desks, and be cramped for space. From the size of the benches & desks in this room number ‘9′, I think this classroom was most likely used by students of Class IV.

The examination-centre that I had been allocated was one of the biggest high schools in this part of the city. It was also right next to the railway lines. I was 100% certain that the first field-trip that the students from this school got, was a visit to the Station Master’s office at the neighbouring Railway Station.

The railway announcements in the background were not exactly helping me do better in my exams. Even after all that, I should say I did decently well in those exams. Atleast nothing that I can complain about now … after all, here I am, dreaming about that day long gone, sitting in an apartment. An apartment which is half way across the planet, from the city where I wrote those exams.

Having bored you all more than enough, I will stop here, for now. Wish all of my friends & readers all the very best, for the “exams” that Life keeps throwing your way.

Have Fun, Enjoy Life, Be Happy.

 

AWAY …

This small little blog of mine will be setting its status to “Away” for some time … maybe a few days, maybe a couple of weeks ( … hopefully not more than that ! ) A lot many things happening in the real world … so I need time to ‘run’ more, to be able to catch up with life.

Meanwhile all you people who have come here can read my previous posts …. maybe read some of my “Fiction”, and tell me what you think. Or feel free to read my old posts, from a few months back when I started this little blog.

And yes, thanks for visiting. Please keep coming back often. I will be back soon, with more stuff.

Finally, before I go, here is some interesting trivia about the movie “Cast Away” (2000)

I enjoyed the movie to some extent. I liked the concept where they made a whole movie with only one actor on screen for almost 85% of its duration. And Tom Hanks did full justice to the role - wonderful acting, and even going to the extent of losing lot of weight to get that ‘starved Castaway look‘

All right …. now, at the end of the movie, Tom Hanks goes & delivers the only package that came through unopened & undestroyed after his long ordeal out at sea - he delivers the ‘box with the Angel Wings’. Does anyone out there recollect that part ?

So,  the director of the movie, Robert Zemeckis was once asked in an interview what was there in that unopened package.

And … he replied that the package had a Waterproof, Solar-powered, Satellite Phone !!

 

The Bench

Sitting on the bench, Dinesh thought to himself about how, after all these years, somethings were still the same here - the wooden benches, the swings & the slides for children to play, the open playground, the cement stage at the end of the ground - which was used by the town’s amateur theatre group. Dinesh went back to his school days - the cricket matches played on this ground, the annual Fair that used to be held here every Diwali, the plays staged by the local youths on clear December nights. He still clearly remembered the many summer afternoons that he spent lazing on the wooden benches under the big old shed, with his favourite comic-books for company. Those days, he could see his house from his vantage point on the bench. And his mother would always call out from the kitchen window, when it was time for him to go home.

Then, there were not many houses or buildings around. Now, the open plot of land was surrounded by new constructions on all sides. On one side was a group of  mansions. The other sides had multi-storey apartment complexes, with their high balconies looking down on the ground.

The only reason this plot had not been grabbed by any of the builders was because it was still at the centre of a legal dispute between the Desai family and the State Government. Both claimed ownership of the land, and their battle had been moving around from court to court - without any end in sight. The case had originally been filed by the Government against Maneklal Desai, when he had tried to sell the piece of land to a builder. Now, after his death, his son Vinesh was fighting to get back what he believed belonged to his father.

“Dad, who threw the ball higher ? Didn’t my throw go higher than Sumod’s ? You have to decide now“
Dinesh was brought back to the present by Pramod’s question. His seven year old twins were playing catch in the grass. He and his family had come down from Bangalore for two weeks, as the children had their summer vacations.

Since his mother was not keeping well, Dinesh did not want her to live alone any more. He had convinced her to come & live with them in Bangalore. Once his mother moved in with them, he was not sure when he would come back again, to visit his old home.

In the last 38 years, this playground had not changed at all. Dinesh hoped that the next time he came here, it would still be the same. He had so many wonderful childhood memories here.

He did not want to see a multi-storey apartment complex built on top of his memories.

 

Innocent questions

Heres another of my all time favourite songs, which again landed in my media player playlist - the song “Tujhse Naaraz Nahi Zindagi…” from the Hindi movie ‘MASOOM’ (1983)

The song has been wonderfully rendered by Anup Ghoshal, to music composed by the great maestro, R. D. Burman.
And again, Gulzar’s lyrics are brilliant - not that a chota mota fella like me, with my limited knowledge of good Hindi, needs to certify Gulzarji’s work.

‘MASOOM’(1983) is a wonderful movie, directed by Shekar Kapur - the same Shekar Kapur who later gave us local & global hits like MR.INDIA, BANDIT QUEEN, ELIZABETH. ( & the same Shekar Kapur whose face became known to thousands of Indians after he was seen in an ad for Digjam suitings - in the old days of Doordarshan, before Cable TV, Star TV, Sun TV,MTV, FTV)

And yes, ‘Masoom’ is the same movie that introduced two budding actors to the world - Urmila Matondkar & Jugal Hansraj. Again, anybody who loved watching Chitrahaar on DD some time ago, would have seen the “Ladki ki Kaati” song atleast once. It was one of the famous “children songs” during my childhood
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Tujhse Naraaz Nahin Zindagi

Tujhse Naaraaz nahi Zindagi, Hairaan hoon main
O Hairaan hoon main
Tere Masoom sawaalon se Pareshaan hoon main
O Pareshaan hoon main

Jeene ke liye sochaa hi nahi, Dard sambhalne honge
Muskurayen to, muskuraane ke karz utaarne honge
Muskuraoon Kabhi to lagta hai
Jaise honthon pe Karz rakhaa hai
Tujhse …

Aaj agar bhar aayee hain, Boondein baras jaayengi
Kal kya patha inke liye Aankhen taras jaayengi
Jaane kab gum hua, Kahaan khoya
Ek aansoo chupaake rakhaa tha
Tujhse …

Zindagi tere gham ne hamein rishte naye samjhaaye
Mile jo hamein Dhoop mein mile chhaon ke thande saaye
O Tujhse …

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To listen to this song, you could go here to musicindiaonline and look for the song sung by Anup Ghoshal. I do like the female version of the same song, sung by the greatest of all, Lata Mangeshkar. But I just felt that, in this case, the male version has more ’soul-touching’ capability.

By the way, have you seen this old & nice movie ?  Did you like it ? What do you feel about this song ?

 

The Jukebox

THE   JUKEBOX   –  a  short  story

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He parked his car, checked his mailbox and opened the door to his house. He had been away from home for two days, catching up with an old friend and ‘colleague’ after a long time.

In all these years, Nick had never come home to a sloshy & wet carpet. And, he was certain that it had not rained in town for the last two months. After the door had closed behind him, he could now hear the water running. He hurriedly plopped over to the kitchen, where he saw the waterfall cascading over the edge of the sink. After he turned off the water, he got ready to appraise himself with the scale of the disaster.

He vaguely remembered some local rumor about a gang of robbers recently operating in the neighbourhood, who called themselves the ‘Wet Bandits’ - named after a similar gang from a hit 90s comedy movie

The 40″ LCD TV, the BOSE audio system, the three paintings that he had recently procured at an art auction - it was all gone. He opened the closet to check if the 3-CD changer mini-jukebox that he had been working on for a VIP client was still there. It had been taken too !!

Nick Gray was never a person to lose his temper. He always knew to remain calm in the worst of situations. It was a requirement in his line of work.

Even now, he knew that all his week’s worth of hard work had been wiped out by these petty crooks who had taken the jukebox. But it was all right. His client was paying him more than enough, and he could afford to work another week to make a similar box.

He sat down and opened his laptop. On his GPS tracking application, Nick saw a blue dot moving west along the I-40 highway. He took out a radio-like gadget from a box, extended up its antenna and after a brief pause, pressed the big button at the center. A second later, the blue dot disappeared from the screen.

The next day, Nick did not get a chance to watch the local TV news channel. On the morning news, they had mentioned a strange accident. An allegedly stolen sports car had suddenly blown up in a huge explosion, as it was travelling along an interstate highway.

 

The Descent

 THE  DESCENT  -  a  short  story

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I stood right next to her, taking in the splendid view of the city nightlights. It was an amazing sight, and I was going to follow it now with an amazing moment. We both were standing in one corner of the open-air restaurant, at the top of the 40-storey high Crescendo Towers. It was one of the few tall buildings the city had. From there, Nicole & I could see almost the entire city.

I had been waiting for this day for almost three months now. Today was the day I was going to ask her the question. I was almost certain her answer would be ‘Yes’. I had known Nicole for more than three years now.

Without letting her know, I tried to get the small jeweller’s box out of my trouser pocket. The waiter with the sizzlers tray rushed past me, brushing my hand. My arm jerked from the impact. The box went flying over the  railing. The next second I had caught the box with my outstretched hand.

In hindsight, I don’t know if it was pure reflex action that caused me to jump and reach out for the box. Or was it the subconscious knowledge that I had spent a huge chunk of my savings on that exquisite diamond ring. Whatever be the reason, the result of that action was that I descended those 40 floors much faster than anyone would ever want to.

After that incident, I would give anything just to let her know that I love her immensely, that I want to marry her, that I want the two of us to live in our own big lake-side house, along with the four kids that we planned to have.

Here I am now, sitting right next to her, in her father’s car. He is taking her home.

If only Nicole could see me or hear me.

 

Nariyal Tel - Fuel of the future !

People in Papua New Guinea seem to have found a solution for rising gas & petrol prices - run vehicles and generators using coconut oil (coco-fuel)

If the citizens of a small island in Papua New Guinea can do it, people from “God’s Own Country“ should definitely be able to do it.

What a dream scenario - buy a huge can of coconut oil. Or even better, make it in your own ‘parambu‘ (piece-of-land) — after all, what better use for the 50+ coconut palms standing tall on your land.

And then, when your wife needs oil to make Pazham-Pori (Banana-Fry) or to fry Pappadams for Lunch, ask her to take some oil from the can. Later, when your son wants to go for his daily class at the local CTCC (Coconut-Tree Climbing College) ask him to fill up the tank in his motorcycle, from the same can !

Meanwhile, you can sit on your patio and enjoy a dozen nariyal-tel flavoured Dosas, with fresh Nariyal Chutney.

Lets make this world a better place ! Lets do our bit to reduce carbon-emissions ! Lets work together towards the goal of more coco-fuel stations popping up everywhere, around the world !

 

Its ‘Inglish’, not English !

Today, I read this very hilarious post about Indianisms

Now, I don’t intend making fun of death or of people dying. But I just want to say that I liked the way Kyla had imagined it in her post - “I get this image of someone walking along the steet, the clock striking a particular time and that person suddenly collapsing. That’s it, he’s expired“

At this point, having worked outside India for a few months now, I have slowly begun to understand the way we Indians have developed what I would call “Inglish” (short for ‘Indianised English‘) Over a long period of speaking the Queen’s language, we have created our own vocabulary of English words. And then, armed with our H1B visas & Work-Permits, we go to work in western lands. Here we use this same ‘In-glish’, much to the shock & surprise of the people there.

I had this colleague, Raghu, who often used the phrase “Time-Pass“, which is very common for people in India - or atleast very very commonly used in Mumbai. For example,  “I was walking around the Mall just for time-pass“. Now the phrase is made up of two English words, time & pass. So Raghu thought it would be a commonly used term in U.K.  But that day when he used it in a meeting, he saw a big question mark come across the face of the Yorkshire-born Bob.
Then once we were having a big lunch-event for the entire project team. The project manager, Mark, suddenly points to Raj, and says that there was something he always wanted to ask. He says that the in the mails that Raj sends to the Support-Desk, the last line always was “Please do the needful to resolve this“.
Mark says, “In all my 45 years, I have never heard of the word ‘needful’ being taught in any school in Britain.  Its not even an English word ! Where did you get that word from ?” And then everyone at the table start laughing.

Well, I am sure I also use many such Inglish words. But then I would say its not entirely my fault. Its partly because of what I was taught at school. And partly due to my laziness to perfect the language.

And then, I would like to add here, every place & every country adds its own flavour to the English language.  Like the South African sitting in the next cubicle always says “Here in the US, everything about English is mixed up. They call a sport Soccer, when all over the world its called Football. And then, they call another sport Football, even though its hardly played with the foot !“

Hmmmm … have you, at any time, knowingly or unknowingly, used any In-glish phrases ? Or, have you been at the receiving end of any In-glish ?

 

Time for a Coffee break

In my short work career so far, I have had the chance to work in quite a few offices. The number is not anywhere near the dozens of offices and clients that my friends and colleagues have been to.

But, I have always wondered and even been amused by the different types of coffee breaks that I have been introduced to at these places. I am attempting to categorise some of my coffee breaks here.

I am sure most of you out there have your own types of coffee breaks. For those who don’t like their java, it could be a break for any other beverage or even a smoking-break. Please feel free to drop in your 3, 30 or 300 lines about it, in the Comments section here

The break could be from any kind of work - from office-work, from house-work. It could be a break from your desktop PC, or a break from your kitchen PC (which is the ‘Pressure Cooker’) or a break from working at the Dixons or Circuit City store …. or even a small break from barista duties at ‘Cafe Coffee Day’

Here goes …
“At the Desk + Brainstorming” Coffee break
You are so deeply drowned in some critical task at work - like, say, something that you were supposed to complete and send yesterday. You don’t have time to un-glue yourself from your seat. But you still need the dose of caffeine to keep you going. What do you do ? You pick up the phone, dial the small pantry facility that your office has, and request the chap (Nandu) to bring you a cup of hot ‘Kaapi‘
He puts on his usual talk about desktop coffee only being given twice a day and that for the rest, you need to go yourself & get it. But since you are one of Nandu’s “Frequent Foodie” customers, he obliges to your request. “Only this last time. Next time you will have to walk over and get it”, he says as he places the cup right next to your mouse-pad.

“Deadline-meeting celebration” break
This usually happens the day following the above mentioned situation. The previous night, just as the on-duty security guard was about to drive you nuts with his long story about the time he met Sachin Tendulkar and Pravin Amre at some Sarvajanik Ganeshotsav celebrations, you managed to complete the work and send out a  mail. You managed to get the last Autorickshaw waiting near the office gate - to reach home, just a couple of hours before the “Good Morning India” show on TV started.
And now, today to describe your brave midnight ordeal to two of your colleagues, you take them for an extended morning tea-break, over to the neighbouring Indian Coffee House

“Long-weekend stories” break
I saw these type of breaks on one of my overseas assignments.
Its the Monday after a long weekend. Everyone on the project team had either gone to some exotic vacation spot, or had gone to the hot & happening pubs, clubs in town. And now, each person is eager to share his story with the team. So, at sharp 10-30 AM, the whole team decides its coffee time. All take the Lift (Elevator - if you prefer that way) down the twenty odd floors, walk over to the Starbucks across the street. Everyone buys their stuff - Latte, Mocha, No-sugar-no-cream Coffee. Some grab a muffin or two. And the whole point of going all the distance is to get enough time to exchange weekend stories.

“Oops-I-broke-the-machine” break
At one particular office, I did’t have to walk too far to get my perfect coffee.

The office has a shiny, techno-smart vending machine. Press 5 buttons in the right order, keep your favourite coffee mug in place (or the disposable plastic cup will also do) and press ‘START’. Voila ! Hot & sleep-defeating coffee is ready in 15 to 150 seconds !
You also get to meet one or two new people in the office, while you are waiting in queue for Miss Jane to get her coffee from the machine.
All this on the better days. On the bad days - when you sat on the wrong seat on the train, and when you had actually managed to put a layer of polish on your shoes - the machine will give out a grawky noise and suddenly spray the coffee over the floor - and all over your shining shoes.  B!**)y Hell !!!  The bad day just got worse !

So … what kind of a break do you like to take every day ?