The little guest!

There is something about the rains and the pensive mood it brings along. For city dwellers monsoon brings in a bag of mixed emotions. While escape from the heat is a privilege, clogged drainage, traffic blocks and a consequential flood are the fears every city dweller co-exist with. So it was natural that Sally couldn’t sleep peacefully that night. It had been raining incessantly for the past 4 hours.

It’s 3 AM and there is still time for the world to wake up and function in panic like every day.

“Should I go out and check out the water tank outside?

Her greatest fear of drainage seeping into her water tank due to over flooding didn’t let her doze off. She wanted to go out and inspect, but it was dark outside and cold too.

“Let me wait till morning”, she consoled herself with a deep sigh, looking at the bible kept on the bedside table.

The faint smell of ayurvedic oils continued to waft in her little room as she switched the lights off to sleep. Insomnia has been her soul mate for quite some time. Just like life, she has accepted it without any complaints.

‘The curtains need dusting, maybe a good wash’. She chalked out her itinerary for the next day as she gazed on to the windows in the dim light. Everything in that house had a story to tell. Even those curtains had one, maybe many.

She didn’t realize it was 7 in the morning. Rarely has it happened so before. She has never slept for 4 hours at a stretch for years, and she could sense the freshness on her face.

“Praise the lord”!

She muttered.

Sally quickly rushed from her bedroom to the kitchen to pick the food waste bin. It usually needs to be placed in front of the house for the municipality waste collectors every day. Come rain or shine, she sees them every day at 7.15 AM without fail. Probably a ritual for all the housewives in the neighborhood.

While walking back from the front yard something caught her eye. A rustling noise followed. She felt like something was wriggling through her porch. Maybe …. She paused her thoughts.

One needs to careful during monsoons, the wet and slurry surrounding can be breeding grounds for reptiles. She went closer to the parked car in the porch and looked around hesitantly.

 She couldn’t find anything strange at first. But her instinct told her walk further. She went closer to the backside of the car parked and slowly pulled out the sheets lying below.

A pup it was.

She stared at the unexpected guest in her yard. It eagerly looked up to her and wagged its little tail.

Sally hates dog, ever since she remembers. As a kid, she stayed away from them even when her school mates fancied to own one. Not that she is scared of it or being chased in the past, dogs never seemed to be in her good books for some reasons.

The little one but had no clue of Sally’s feelings for the species, it stood up and trotted closer to her with affection. 

She stood clueless with her left hand on the hip as he leaned onto the pillar near the car.

“It was still drizzling and no way can it go out. It looks quite small, maybe only a few months old, how did it come here and it must hungry”

Thoughts began ruminating in Sally’s mind and heart in loops.

She could not shoo the little one out from her compound. Nor could bear the future of adopting it.

“Oh lord, what do I do now?”

She clasped the rosary from the front pocket of her gown and went inside the house in despair.

The little one began to bawl, as Sally went out if its sight. 

“It will go on its own, just how it came”, she pacified herself.

Sally began rummaging through the kitchen cupboard and took a meter long towel out.  “This would keep it comfortable in this cold climate” she blurted to herself. 

The microwave in her kitchen beeped. Sally confirmed the temperature of the warm milk inside before pouring out a portion of it to a wider steel cup.

She placed it both on a tray and took it along. She paused on her way in front of the Jesus' photograph on the wall. She offered a brief prayer before opening the main door.

It was still raining outside. Luckily water hasn’t clogged this time and her tank also seemed safe. God has been kind. She put on her slippers and walked towards the porch to meet her guest.

She removed the sheets carefully beneath the car trying not to scare the little one by any chance. But to Sally’s surprise, it wasn’t there. The pup was missing from where she last saw it just 20 minutes ago. She began searching around all the possible hideouts. Backyard, staircase area, slabs, garden. Possibly everywhere. But in vain.

A good 30 minutes went by now and there was no sign of the pup.  She picked the newspaper lying on the floor and trotted towards the veranda in despair.

Woof!

Woof!

She heard that again. Sally quickly turned around out to catch the sound. An overflowing gush of hope was evident on her face. She left the tray on the chair and opened the gate scurrying towards the main road without even an umbrella. The 50 feet paved pathway from her house seemed miles longer.

She reached the side of the intersecting road with passing vehicles blocking her view. Rains gained momentum making it harder to catch up any gentle sound.

Where is it? She asked herself straining her eyes through her wet spectacles.

Woof!

She turned around swiftly and looked across the road. And there it was.

The pup and its mother were playing  gleefully.  Happily Reunited.

"Praise the lord". Sally prayed as she took off her glasses to clean the moisture caught in the rain. 

She could see clearly all over again...

 

8 life saving tips for every Groom in India!

 Tip 1. Sleep Man- I agree you are getting married for the first time and it’s your last day of bachelorhood, but try to get some sleep before the D- day. Chances are you might dose off in the car or might end up looking like a zombie in your wedding album. Your kids may disown you if they discover your wedding photographs.

Tip 2. Say no to water- It’s good to drink water to keep you hydrated, to lose toxins and all the goodness it brings along. But hey! You can do this for the rest of your life. Spare your wedding day. Too much of water intake can drown with frequent loo breaks and the consequential embarrassments . You may even be required to control your overflowing emotions till you get a breathing space in that hectic schedule.  Don’t do that.

Tip 3. Play safe: This is not the time to experiment with your hair. Carry a safe, tried and tested hair cut for the wedding. Go for a haircut at least 2 weeks before the wedding day; doing so will help you grow back your natural form. Saving you from a bad hair day!

Tip 4. Hold on: if you are a South Indian and not used to wearing Dhoti, you need a belt. And if you are wearing a silky Dhoti, then God help you. Imagine doing the customary circles and  holding your dhoti instead of  bride's hand. Worst, what if it falls down. Don’t be a overnight Youtube sensation.

Tip 5. Don’t be flashy:  I agree you are a man of class and love to wear underwear with those polka dot designs, rainbow shades, Mickey mouse imprints on it Awesome.. But try to avoid it if you are wearing a see- through Dhoti. A lighter shaded underwear , preferably white can save your ass. 

Tip 6. Don’t stare: Chances are you will not recognize all the people on stage. The one who come to congratulate you and grin heartily during group photo sessions. Please don’t stare at them. They are just your relatives.

Tip 7. Have control: There’s this real hot chick on stage, coming to you with a sensuous smile and luring handshake. A normal you will never leave such a golden chance in vain. But remember it’s your wedding and most importantly she can be your wife’s friend.  Be in control.

Tip 8. Stay fit: Like it or not you have to be fit on your wedding. Indian weddings are all about touching feet and taking blessings from elders.  Do sit ups, pull ups, stretching exercises, even push –ups. Just do it. It won’t look nice if you catch a cramp in the middle of whole revelry. Your wife can have doubt on your capabilities too.

Pati Patni aur Gas Cylinder!

“So what does the groom do”?

 “Oh he is an MBA. That’s good but then does he have a Gas Connection”?

 In South India if a bride is gauged by the length of her hair and fairness, the groom is weighed by his salary and Gas connection. And in the wake of frightening scarcity of gas cylinders around, there’s little to sympathize with the grooms of this country. 

It’s a ritual in our community to kick start the wedding invitation process with the in-laws. The first invitation is handed over to the bride’s family invoking their auspicious presence and blessing. It's not an elaborate affair though. This is also the time when the father- in- law comes in for an intimate chat with the groom asking his secret wish to be fulfilled. 

Statistics point that erstwhile grooms have made it a point to look no less than the best South Indian heroes on this special occasion to impress their in-laws. 

Who am I to beat history? 

As expected the invitation card was handed over by my father to his peer and the entire gathering broke into a revelry mode, except two individuals.

My mother and mother in law!

My mother and my mother- in- law were in trance and shed tears and holding each other’s palms as though signing a partnership agreement. No one knew why they were doing so, or for that matter the need for such an emotional drama in a happy occasion like that. I didn’t bother to think what could have been in their minds, since I had better things to focus on.

A sumptuous spread welcomed us in full glory followed by some candid photo session steered by cousins. In between I exchanged fleeting glances and some on air romance with my bride.

How far is your office from home?

My father in law popped in with this question blocking our stealthy glances

15 Kilometers, I replied

What?

 15 kilometers seemed a not so happy answer to him. He shifted his glance to the ceiling and stared there for next 30 seconds. I wondered whether he was envisioning his daughter running 15 kilometers with a lunch box in wedding attire on a scorching afternoon for her husband. 

How do you travel? 

Bike, I promptly replied. 

All of a sudden I had feeling whether he was planning to buy me a car or some kind of transportation. I have heard father- in- laws doing such appraisal talks before wedding. I couldn’t help crossing my fingers. 

Do you have a Gas Connection?

What?

Let me tell you that life is all about surprises. Most of them unfortunately weird and unsolicited. 

The next twenty some minutes were dedicated to understanding the significance of having a gas connection and trust worthy gas agent in a fruitful married life. “Gas cylinders are directly proportional to every married man’s peace of mind. The fuller it is the higher remains the domestic harmony level. The moment it runs out empty, you will see the man of the house running devastated”

So my son, make sure you have your cylinders in place. Manassilayo? Blurted my father in law.

That was a quite a piece of talk. Full of Gas.

On my way back I was reminded of a very important lesson, the one I had left behind in 6^th Standard.

Life is all about matters. Solid liquid and Gas. Never underestimate or ignore any of them.

At least if you want to be happily married.

Uncommonly in love!

Are you tensed about marriage?

What?

I asked are you tensed about marriage?

Me??? No way I am super cool.

Oh is it!!  Then why are you eating away tissues papers instead of  the Samosas on your plate?

                  My friend Nandini had a point and I couldn’t defend my gluttony for worries. It was one those occasions where you have no answer but a blushed smile that says ‘ Guys I am screwed’.  Even otherwise I have never won any arguments with her. She is invincible.

Known in the closer circles for impeccable sense of humor and ingenious skills to tease, Nandini is often the star of our get togethers.  She can charge up any party with her trade mark laughter, a skill she claims to have endowed from her mother. She was right, I was tensed. Tensed about zillion things about my marriage, most of them ridiculously trivial to the world.  I had doubts like; 

• What if my dhoti slips down when I am marching to the temple?

• What if I feel like vomiting when I am shoved down with customary spoons of milk and banana  by elder ladies during wedding?

•  What if I catch cold and have a terrible running nose?

•  What if I my tummy get upset?

• What if there is a Hartal on the wedding day?

• Or if the tire goes puncture and I reach late only to find no one in the Mandapam!

There is little one can blame a person who thinks about his marriage from an intense crisis management perspective. I was only thinking proactive and  in between I ate some tissue papers thinking it to be Samosas.

What’s the big deal??

While I was busy mulling over my not so silly feelings Nandini was on phone looking disturbed, with an expression she is not used to.  She stood up and strolled to the wash basin at the restaurant with her phone held to the ears.  I knew there was something brewing up, but poking in an unsolicited fashion can be a little annoying. I finished my coffee and signaled the waiter for the bill.

“So If you have finished eating the tissues shall we make a move.  She sat back wiping her hand in typical Madrasi style.

Everything all right, who was on phone? I asked her cutting in between.

Oh that call, it was Sidharth, called from office to say that he would come and pick me up from the next junction. We got to meet some relatives on the way.  I told him that we are here, She quipped.

We decided to walk till the next junction to meet Sidharth which was half a kilometer from the restaurant.

Nandini got married to Sidharth 6 years ago. A perfect example of  how opposite poles attract to each other, they have been a couple with dissimilar tastes and priorities. While Nandini lived in a world of books, meetings and exaggerations, Sidharth preferred to live in present with minimal words and expressions.  Their personal choices hardly marry each other, and the same applies to their professional goals too. For the world and society it may seem nothing in common between them, nothing that makes them a so called made for each other pair.  But that’s not true.

 I pity the world for its shallow outlook and superficial takes on lives around.  We often are prejudiced with retarded approaches in connecting people with stories and conclusions conveniently in a manner that pleases us.

We are all writers in our own rights. Aren’t we?

Love isn’t about pizzas, café’s, cards, gifts, movies and kuchikoos alone.  It’s beyond that and I learned it seeing this special couple together. There hasn’t been a single weekend where Sidharth hasn’t joined Nandini in Chennai continually for a year where she was working on a special assignment and while he was based out of at Trivandrum.  He made it a point to book tickets in advance, forgo his personal agendas and travel 1400 Kms every week to accompany his wife on weekends only to rescue her from the loneliness of Chennai. If not for him I don’t think a career centric woman like Nandini would  leave her high flung job to settle in a tier 3 city like this. They may not be seen strolling malls, sipping ice teas, shopping exorbitantly but then they have got what’s integral to any relationship. 'Mutual Respect'

“Hello by the way tell me what are you going to wear for reception, with your current  figure I am sure you would look like ‘Winnie the Pooh’ in your wedding album”

Nandini was back with her wits pulling my leg yet again with a winning score card and infectious smile.

We crossed the road and walked past the stand still traffic to reach the by lane where Sidharth was standing next to his car. As usual he greeted me with a firm shake hand and concerns over my growing waist line.

Hey what’s that cover, let me see?

Nandini quizzed Sidharth

She opened the back door of the car stretching her hands for the packet kept on the seat.  She pulled the cover back with an anxiety of a child. It read ‘The Immortals Of  Meluha’ , a book she wanted to buy last week.

It brought an instant smile on both their faces whipping away the delusions of the world around them.  And I only stood in testimony to a wonderful relationship of two unlikely souls who were truly in love. 

The Official Interview

Every time I talk about a place I end up talking about its food. I have been to Trivandrum umpteen times and I am familiar with the place by its culinary mood swings than by its official landmarks. My very close friends at Radio Mirchi have already acquainted me to the most yummilicious desi food joints of the town. I love Trivandrum for its slang, for its unapologetic rawness and never ending list of  temples. Trivandrum is good and is awesome for people I must say who love to work for the government. 

  But that day it was different .  One interview was going to change my life forever. When I say an interview I am not very sure to call it that way but then by all means it was an interview.  

Indeed a stress full one

I reached her house to be welcomed by a battalion of well built yet modestly dressed future in laws.  My home work on the family album came in handy in identifying faces.

Branch Manager?

Illa uncle it’s Brand Manager.

Brand as in….. Brandy!!!

Introducing yourself is an art and I am not an artist. I have always goofed up in giving out a rosy picture of mine to others whenever it mattered.   My unexpected black out syndromes, abrupt linguistic disorders and tentative abdominal malfunctions have complicated my life a lot. I begin making simple matters sound complex  with definitions that have no meaning in today's google world. I am more than fine defining myself in writing but speaking out confidently in chivalrous fashion that too in front of my future in-laws was like clearing CAT and making it to IIMs. 

I was served with an elaborate platter of palatable delicacies in front of me. Ranging from conventional laddoos to convoluted jilebis to imported dry fruits. On a normal day  it won’t take me more than 20 minutes  to eat away the whole some spread but that day it wasn’t about my tummy . My heart needed attention and I had to keep my eyes out from those  momentary distractions. 

By now I had completed introducing myself 5 times.  Each time I finished there’s a new entrant to the party and I begin explaining it all over again. To her uncles, cousins and even to the bacha party. Actually that gave me confidence and I repeated my spiced up achievements story to the gallery again and again.

So what’s next?

Next is what uncle?

Silence is  scary. I can vouch for that . Suddenly the whole gathering went to a mute mode. It was like those moments in popular reality shows where the host ruminates over elimination episodes  and contestants  wait with bated breath and filled up eyes.

 Will I be selected?

 Do I have enough sms support?

 Will I get a wild card entry ?

 Will I be the winner?

 Or should I leave the show?

The questions were many and I wanted to shout my lungs out to the whole clan of people sitting around asking for a yes. Her dad sat as composed as Budhha, periodically staring at my tummy . It aggravated my whole composure and scraped away the little confidence I had in me.

I looked around like a lost puppy in an airport (that’s too much may be in a bus stand) for some relief and support. And suddenly  I had a glimpse of  her. A smile of hers got me hooked from the farther corner of the hall. There she was winking at me , behind her expressionless mother  with a thumbs up .

It doesn't take a man a lot to feel better. We men feel better with most simplest of things. A smile does wonders for us. We are like that you know.

That was the best interview I had so far. And I had the yes from the most important interviewers of my life.

 A yes from Lord Padmanabhan 

 A yes from Trivandrum..

I love you Netravati Express!

“You sure it’s the north railway station right?

God it’s already 1.30pm and still we have another 2 kilometers to cross”  

She expressed frantic concerns for her train, luggage and dear amma who was waiting at home. Honestly speaking I wanted her to miss the train and probably postpone her journey and sit with me in café coffee day.  She was sitting pillion to me straddling her bag and cell phone busy reassuring her mother periodically.

I don’t know what made me do that. Blame it on filmy disposition  I decided to open up my mind right in front of hundreds at the railway station. 

“Sree I got to tell you this now.  

Do you know which train is that?

“ What's wrong with you?, we just took the tickets right!  ” she replied staring at her watch.

    Yeah! 

"I swear by that train that my feelings for you is as strong as those railway tracks. I might be late to tell you this but then most of the Indian trains do run late and still make it to their destinations.  I want to be on a journey with my heart reserved exclusively for you.  I love you and want to be with you for the rest of my life as long as Indian Railway exists"

It was a treat to watch her after my bizarre confession. She fiddled her phone nervously avoiding an eye to eye contact. Of course she was smiling, probably at my weird style of proposal. I put her bags comfortably after placing her into a spacious compartment. She paused and looked at me. 

"Reply darling whom are you waiting for! Don’t think like a rank holder. Put aside your accounting skills and think from heart. This is the test of life, grace me with an answer"

  I couldn’t help mumbling.

“Would it be fine if I reply to you once I reach home, I need to think” Beggars are never deciders, they hardly have choices.

“Yeah that’s kind of ok” I replied half heartedly  

I must say that the estrogen command overrules the strongest and even the bravest of men. She waved me a good bye as her train chugged its heart ahead in full momentum. I walked back through the overbridge wondering what destiny had in store for me. And then I felt a vibration from within.

 My cell phone beeped.

 I prayed as I looked on to the screen just like a troubled batsman looking for green signal from third empire.

“I think I am in love with you too. And I wish from the bottom of my heart to spend rest of my life’s journey with you”

 That’ was the finest moment of my life and I understood why Mani Ratnam showed  railway station shots in his every film. The entire station seemed like in chorus with me. Train announcements sounded a lot more sweeter and I felt like hugging the ticket collector who was busy tallying the checked in passengers.

I was in love.

Hail Indian Railways...