Stranded!

Hi! I’m one of the few survivors on the shiny surface of the great Mr. Jack’s noggin. His name really is Jakaram Gafur, but he has always taken a fancy for shortened westernized names, and ‘Jack ‘is but consequential.

During his heyday, when he was all of twenty five, and when there was a lot of might in his arms, we were a happier lot. For starters, there were many of us. I had my position right on top of the pate, while there were so many on the extreme left and right, and the new wave flowing down to the neck. Not to forget a strip running alongside his big wide ears! That was some crop, really! We were a well groomed lot, and we smacked of richness. Jack would carry us on him to places high and mighty! We all got to see the hottest looking lasses in sizzling attire, we got to see men with crop as great as ours, but in varied styles.

The scene was slightly different when Jack was a student though. He would use coconut oil to see that we stayed strong and healthy. I never got an opportunity to sniff myself, but my neighbors didn’t smell great anyway! In fact, I haven’t rued my life on his top more than the extent to which I did those days! It used to remind me of the ghettos of the turbulent past. A bunch of seniors and I used to regularly agree that he needed to learn a thing or two about fashion and good looks! Hell, he used to stifle us with a round cap quite porous in nature, which was but a lid on our freedom. I remember one chap quipping about the dome, which would fall on us once a week. “Gentlemen, get ready for the blindfolded walk!”

One day, somebody suggested that he had it in him to be a model. Chiseled features, what? Of course, Mr. Somebody also told him that he had a fantastic mop which only added to his appeal! Beautiful people, weren’t we? So off set Jack, to a nearby studio. The bloke behind the lens did a fine job of capturing him in complete style. Armed with a portfolio, Jack met a famous designer the next day and it was the beginning of an era of fame and fortune. ‘Jackie Walker’, his bosom pal had apparently called him! Our lot started seeing better days. Gel! We could finally say we gelled well with Jack! A thick and a caring shampoo , and a comfortable shower from warm white water diving from fancy bath fittings later, it used to be time for the crystal blue paste (what everyone prefers to call Gel), to get spread on us. Wow! That was some massage! And we just became more fragrant! In length we grew, and in strength as well.

We basked in such glory for a good few years before I started seeing some of my buddies just vanishing. They were the ones who stood at the front. I reckon it’s a universal phenomenon that people at the front are the ones who give their lives, be it war or the head. His forehead clearing out, everyone could see the lines of worry writ large across. And we were worried no less! Jack’s friends said it was hereditary, and the blighter accepted it. Those were the days when treating loss of folks like me wasn’t very popular and was extremely expensive. So he just let be! It was sheer apathy, we felt. It was about the same time that his contract with his studio bosses terminated. His dad, who had none of our ilk on his head, strongly advised him to quit walking about and help him in business. And that my friend, signaled the beginning of the end!

As I tell you this, I hold one of the last remaining bastions of hope. I’m frail, and I’ve lost color. I along with others have grayed with age. I’m not long enough anymore. Sun light hurts me, as it does to his head. I need to be cut regularly, so that he doesn’t look like Einstein. I haven’t smelled gel in years. We are a dried up lot now. Mind you, his sideburns are still a stronger patch, and an attraction. It probably helped them to have remained on the sidelines!

In a while, Jack will set off to visit a chap who claims to bring back my folks, from the dead. I personally haven’t bought the idea, but one cannot question science. I have lived my life on one head, and seen great and not-so-great times. I’m not too keen on meeting an entirely new bunch of artificially created sprouts who, in every possibility will be showing off. Gosh, please help me tide over the coming ordeal and have a natural passage! I’m stranded like never before!!!

Unified

The Wall fell in Eighty Nine,
When I was hardly nine
Since then, stories I’ve heard many
about East and West Germany!
Heck, the first half was bloody and the second was cold
Around a century of wars made the land wizened and old!
Its twenty now in two thousand nine, and the nation says
Twenty first is mine!!!

Tony Traveling

(All characters and situations fictitious. No connection to anyone or anything in the big bad world around us!)

Tony, boy, was he glad! He managed to get a seat on the bus and it was a great feeling indeed. A long and slow journey waited, and within minutes the bus would be inching ahead to full capacity.

The Jantivahana from Yeshwantpur to ITPL winds along one of the longest routes in Bangalore city. Not that there’s no shorter route to reach the destination, but the state-run bus service means to connect as many areas as possible, given that ITPL is nestled in the distant suburbs of the city, and not many private carriers operate from different localities to here.

The traffic was monstrous enough to drive anyone crazy. Presently the bus left the station and started plodding along the central business district, and Tony closed his eyes, hoping to catch up on some lost sleep. He had a long day at work waiting.

Flop! Somebody sat down heavily on the seat next to his, and he felt slightly displaced. He was forced to turn and look at the source of such an impact. It was a rotund personality, dark in complexion, a thin moustache running above his lips. He had unkempt hair which smelt of coconut oil, wore a shirt with floral patterns and the top two buttons removed. The man purchased a ticket to Maharani’s college stop. Not a great distance at all. Tony looked out the window for a second and went back to his nap. Just that he wasn’t getting lulled to sleep however much he tried. His thoughts kept going back to the individual seated next to him. It reminded him of a person who looked similar. He tried recollecting his memory.

“For men may come and men may go, but I go on forever”. Tony found the line by Alfred Tennyson very apt for his tenure in the company he was working with. He quoted this, while he was walking down M.G.Road with a pal, and looking at the back lit hoarding that had the picture of a svelte woman advertising a brand of Whiskey. He bumped into someone coming the opposite way. “I’m sorry, please excuse”, he said and moved on. The person, to whom he said took a few steps back and stopped Tony. “Hi, you look familiar. Do you have a minute on you?” “I’m sorry I don’t know you.” “You’re Tony aren’t you?” “Yeah, that’s right. Tell me, how could I help you?” “That’s great then. You see I have to deliver this package to you. I was told that you would be waiting near the Metro station. I’m sorry I’m late that you started walking away. Thankfully I found you!” Tony was zapped. He suspected foul play immediately, and started walking away quickly. He didn’t even stop to pull his buddy out from there. It couldn’t be denied that fear gripped him. So much that he found himself running. He ran till he was out of breath, turned to an alley that connects M.G.Road to Church Street, reached for the nearest wall he could crash on to. Who on earth was the stranger? Most probably a bagman. When he could breathe normally again, he flashed out his mobile phone and called his friend. “Where the hell are you?” “You tell me where you are? Everything ok with you. Is that bloke still after you?” “Nope, I’m alone and walking back and forth looking for you. So where are you?” ‘Oh, I’m near the back door of Emgees. You know, where you can get on to Church Street.” ‘Ok, hang in there, and I’ll join you in a minute.” When his friend did join him, Tony saw that he hadn’t come empty handed. In his hand was the package that he had run away from. “You ran like crazy! This IS the thing you were waiting for” “What! You ok? Now don’t try funny business with me.” “Of course I won’t, you know that” “C’mon man, tell me what the deal is.” “Easy go! It’s just that the courier that came from Oracle didn’t reach you, as you were out the whole day. I wanted to surprise you, so I called up this chap who had brought the package to be delivered, arranged for me to come here and give the stuff to you personally!” “Hell, why would you want to do THAAT? Like a parcel can’t wait for a day!” “The parcel could wait for sure, but I couldn’t!” “You’re weird” “Why don’t you open it and see what’s in.” Tony had no choice but to humour his pal. He opened the parcel gingerly, and realized at first glance, that it was a job offer from Oracle, with a handsome pay pack and a fancy designation!

The traffic was painfully slow-moving. So was the bus. It was nearing Maharani’s college and the courier-agent lookalike was getting ready to alight. Tony smiled to himself. He never found out as to why his M.G.Road pal wanted to be present at the moment he saw his offer, but he did realize later that the latter was interested in some research on logistics management.

In a couple of minutes, the next to him was filled by an elderly woman who was waiting for the seat from the time the bus departed from the terminus. Goodness, would he ever get a face even remotely interesting as a traveling companion? The conductor came by, and she bought a ticket to Marathalli. Heck, that was some distance! He looked away, and caught sight of a lady with a crimson top, on a scooterette. She was not too bad looking. He tried to fix his gaze on her as long as he could. All that came to his mind now was the Jasmine seller two streets away from his house. He turned his head back in and looked at the occupant in the next seat, and let out a big sigh!

“It’s going to be a ‘memorable’ journey, and I’ve nearly had it already!”

-Met

Stomacracy!

“Plenty sits still, hunger is a wanderer!” The Zulus of South Africa were a wise lot apparently, given the punch they’ve packed in the simple yet powerful quote in the preceding line.

Indeed, the quote seems to hold true for X these days. As the handful of people who know him would agree, his appearances are in no way suggestive of his ever increasing appetite. Till a few months ago, X was as thin as a stick, had hairy hands and bent shoulders. And he used to just nibble at the food on his plate. We could vouch for rats to be better players at the game! Came June, and what gripped him was the fever that has caught the fancy of the young brigade en masse’ these days. He started attending the local gymnasium, as he says, to ‘stay fit and healthy’. Really, wasn’t his move suspiciously suggestive of his desire to bulk up and get a sculpted body in the meantime?

Cut to the present, and X’s got a figure not-too-bad. He could do better with a more regular workout. But this in itself has brought about a sea change in his desire to eat. His breakfast spread reminds you of the imperial one at the manor. And his time at the table runs long enough for the first morsel he took to have already gone halfway in the digestion process. That’s not all. Psychology happens to guide his ever growing hunger pangs. The advice of his psyche would read something to the following effect; “Hey, don’t you forget that you are gymming, son! Think about all the calories you burn, and how much more you need to be taking in. Have you been able to go beyond the 12 pound barbell? It wouldn’t be a surprise if you start losing weight instead of gaining!” Sounding as it does, like a warning from the skies, X goes about with single minded dedication in laying his hands on anything edible, till he’s stuffed to the neck! With the belly fully fed, he sets on his way to work on a cab ride that serves to aid quicker digestion of his morning’s intake. No sooner is he done with the greetings and other niceties before starting work for the day, than he realizes it’s lunch time. Strictly speaking, his hunger hasn’t returned yet, but it’s all in the mind you see! His colleagues are satisfying their hunger, and he thinks he should follow suit as well. But at the table, his way of consumption is a sight to behold! X takes in the stuff in a way which would amaze the most aloof of cattle. And his expressions would be akin to that of womenfolk during their defining moment!

With a fully loaded pack below his chest and not an iota of space left for anymore, our friend slogs through the afternoon. His instincts tell him to skip the snack early in the evening when others go, for fear of a ruptured stomach. He isn’t a binge eater anyway, is he? The status quo is short lived it appears. There’s an hour left for the end of day, but X is back to hungry ways! When he returns home, all that his folks can read on his face is hunger. Hell, he could eat a horse, his expression says! Well, he’s given a fair quantity and certainly not the steed from the stables! He’s done with ‘dinner’ as his folks would have him believe. But there’s more to come, as the satisfied half moon is yet to grow between his years! Very soon everyone’s called it a day, and X tiptoe to the kitchen and checks to see if there’s anything stomach-worthy in the cool confines of the refrigerator!
If we’ve observed, there’s been a slow but sure transfer of power. Hunger indeed has taken over the mind!

-Met

Limericks - Twisted to Convenience

Limericks are basically five-line poems originally from Ireland of the 18th century. While experts maintained that a true limerick, as a folk form is always obscene, there have been varied versions of this amusing form of literature. Also, apart from violation of taboo, limericks haven't really stuck to the standard five-line rule!

Following are a couple of my attempts at presenting a newer style of limericks. They come with an underlying theme, and not necessarily obscene, though folks can have them in good measure too!

-Met

"Book the ticket', said his pal, "book the ticket!"
Else, he feared, she would ceate a racket
Try as much he did, no ticket was on the book,
and all his pal did was cock a snook!
Alone, he started on Holmes, and found a new pal in the book!

-Solitude begets new friends, at times!


Sexy was Suzy, so bloody that none would get lazy
while on bed with Suzy!
Too hot to handle was she, with one hell of a puzzy.
The morning after, he realized that life was all but easy!

-Lust always doesn't do just!

No Divine Talk

Divinity is something humans love to behold, and not without reason. The very fact that there are things that make us realize their greatness in form and effect, and our own magnitude when juxtaposed with them, is reason enough to strike awe in us in general. While the majestic Himalayas leaves us humbled, the Sahara with its expanse has us breathless, and the Diamond makes us pale into insignificance. Here’s assuming the reader agrees that the earth forms mentioned above are inherently divine indeed.

In most of the old civilizations, including India’s, everything godly is considered divine. Rather, divinity is but synonymous with sacred things. This concept has defied ages and generations. And this is where one can experience the surge of all humanity to behold icons of religious legends. So much so that, faith gradually morphs into fervor, and people do whatever it takes to add in to the numbers. The author got more than a feeler of this phenomenon the past weekend, when he visited Tirumala and Tirupathi shrines, to get a glimpse of Lord Srinivasa who is the residing deity there. The Tirumala temple is situated on the top of the Seshachala Mountain, which is a culmination of Seven great hills. That this is the place where the Lord descended and set up his abode is stuff that beats every legend around. It’s no wonder then that the place is referred to as BhooVaikuntha or roughly, Heaven on Earth. Multitudes of people undertake an arduous climb up the hills; wait in serpentine queues for days together, chant Govinda! with gusto, all to get a glimpse of the bedecked Lord in peaceful poise. Not to forget the wads of currencies they drop in the Hundi as a token of gratitude and respect. He is said to be the boon-giver and a champion of peace & prosperity. There are people all over, in wait, in devotion, in hunger, in thirst, in tonsured heads, and in hope! Now this is what anyone would call the God rush*.

Oddly enough, though people did witness divine structures, ate divine food, read divine literature, there is a growing feeling that somewhere, men and women are making trips or paying visits quid pro quo. It is not essentially give and take, but more of promissory resolutions to keep in the instance of wishes coming true. While the statement by an anonymous author that ‘we have to pray with our eyes on God, not on the difficulties’ is not wholly justifiable here, a visit to a holy place could be worth all the while if there was more of marveling the nature, and the dazzling brilliance of the deity. And that’s where we feel that the thin line between religion and divinity is getting blurred. A bath in the Alakananda is sure to leave you numb and freezing, and you know you have met your match with nature. That’d make you say, “I bathed in the Holy waters”, and most probably warn others of extreme climatic conditions. But then, you’ve encountered divinity. The world probably hasn’t seen anything more perilous than a trip to the Moon. The folks who went up there saw it all. From a distance they could see Earth, in all its green and blue glory. But on the Moon, they saw death. Not a stone moved, not a whisper came! The silence was morbid. And that, as a creation of God, was divine. For it is a fact that human ascent always reaches new heights, but never really conquers nature! Divinity is something we only end up marveling at.

At the risk of sounding didactic, Nature is God’s creation. Stop. It’s not up for grabs, which is what blood-thirsty corporate are assuming. But it sure is lying there all to be discovered. And that doesn’t really need a divine intervention!

-Met

*New coinage. Not hitherto published

Not-too-Young, Free & Single

It takes a lot of convincing to let know that you’re better off single.

Living and working in your hometown, with your parents, is such a cool thing. Especially, if it’s a place like Bangalore, it can only get cooler! I’m trying to go beyond the obvious reasons - economic freedom and general security. This is not a bold and controversial statement I’ve proposed to make. And the previous two lines are not a blanket rule to every other individual around. Folks who are born and bred in Bangers typically would relate to my thoughts, a wee bit at least. And a chap who’s been to and done things at places that typically mark the essence of the cosmopolis the city is, wouldn’t disagree heavily either.

I don’t intend to write a eulogy on Bangalore, but I think it sounds good to set some very basic records straight. You see, Bangalore is not all about good software jobs & better pay cheques, multi-cuisine options and a great many places to booze. The city also serves to address needs somewhere higher up in Maslow’s famed hierarchy. I’ve seen social networking (not those internet sites, silly!) happening with such effortlessness that it’s just amazing to one’s mind. This of course, bearing in mind our labyrinthine social structure. Then you have languages. From vernacular Indian languages to French & German to Russian to Mandarin, options are aplenty. I picked languages, because they are the primary gateway to any culture worth its name. And then the numerous forums. For the book lovers, movie buffs, writers, quizzers, adventurers, motor bikers, lead guitarists, ikebana specialists and more, there are myriad avenues. Tai-chi, Jiujutsu, Kalari are just a few of the exotic martial arts taught here. To cut a long story short, the point is there’s so much to discover and enjoy in a city that carries a global image. The chap who went to and did things at the great places would surely not be an idler without a penny to part with. If you are someone who believes in following your heart and doing things dearer to it, you’ll see that the advantages of living with family are various and tangible.

For many, thoughts evolve as they get exposed to newer ideas. They don’t take things lying down, and would not mind challenging the most widely accepted theories. Perhaps an evolution to this extent may not have been possible a couple of decades earlier. People who didn’t think seriously about the way they wanted to direct their lives now have so much more meat in their thought.

Amorous relationships, unless they are equal to those of commitment, are not bound by rules of extreme patience and empathy. For, in an ‘evolved’ climate, everyone has in place, his or her own plans of carrying their lives. The idea of true love is reserved for ‘the ideal situation’, it appears. And for a commitment to happen, you need to know for sure what the other person’s scheme of things is. If that’s not to be, in the hustle and bustle of the big city, isn’t it pointless to go looking for love, with the apparent objective of tying the knot for the long term?

It’s not half as difficult putting such thoughts to paper, as it is trying to put across the same ideas while speaking with family and friends, face to face.

Really, it takes a lot of convincing to let know that you’re better off single!
-Met

About Time Too…

Its two months into the New Year now, and you can see people talking about the end of the first half already. A bloke who joined an organization around this time last year would say he’s almost a year and half old in the firm. It’s a good half of the year that you know you’re coming to the end of, in no time. And that, my friend, largely exemplifies the age old idiom, "time flies"!
It’s remarkable how psychology influences beliefs about efflux of time. We’d attended the wedding of this buddy of ours in the winter of 2007. And by last summer, he comes home bringing news that he’s a soon-to-be father. There has been no anticipation in the entire process of childbirth obviously, but the moment we heard him out, we were wondering if it was really nearing nine months since he tied the knot! While there was no doubt that we were not time warped, we were also convinced that here was a chap who made things happen, on the double! If this was something not everyone can relate to, bang-on, our beloved government’s hundredth day celebrations should be a better example. You have barely voted them into power, than they start their celebrations, ‘beautifying’ the city in the process. Banners, buntings, cut outs and what not. Of course, hundred days are up in fact, and we the people fail to watch them tick in the hustle and bustle of life.
There are many who aver that time goes by quick, as a function of an individual’s busyness. But hey, we do know people who are, err, great thinkers. Those who have points aplenty, to ponder over. Ask them if they are happy with the time they have with them, and they’d say “You think so? Barely have I started getting my ideas right than its noon!” A writer who “added a comma in the morning, and removed it by evening”, hardly has time to overcome his writer’s block!
Running a race against time, for 27 years now, I can safely bet that time takes a break, only in our mind. In our mind, when our wait for something gets unending. When all we want to see is tomorrow. It’s time’s way of saying “you’re yet to live the day today, my friend! What’s the hurry?” After all, everyday counts!

-Metafore