Binchufied!

This is dedicated to my ex-colleague and good friend, Binchu, who by the way is still alive and drinking well, so no need for any pity faces.

My love for water, to dive in it, to cut through it, to float above it, has not been one by birth or childhood. It is rather recent considering I learnt it only at the age of 16. On the contrary, my early experiences with water has been unpleasant. I hated to take bath my birth as I am told by my mom n sis who repeat my ordeal before being forced to bath, @Enikku chali venam! (I want dirt!), even now.

Once while playing kallan n police, I ran to the terrace of the house to notice there was no place to hide. Now I wonder what I was thinking! Instead of hiding under a bed or behind the door, why run to the terrace! Maybe I just wanted to get as far away from the police as he started the count down from 100. No one really counted all the way from 100 to 0, impatience is a child's first nature, we are mislead to believe its innocence. In that barren terrace, the only place to hide was the water tank, and that's where I drowned for the first time in my life. The bubbles coming out was racing up, I tried to stand up in the tank, but the floor was too slippery to get a grip and my hands failed to find something to grab. There is no emotion to this memory now, no fear, no suffocation, just a few pictures and video clips without sound or taste.

The first time I went to sabarimala pilgrimage, my pre-teenage ego was bubbling as I defied the fast, 41 days of veggie food continuously was not a practical option then or even now. I decided to chat my ego rather than calling out loud 'Swamiye Saranam Ayyappo!'. We reached the pampa in the morning, and it was time to take a dip in this holy water before the ascent to the temple. My cousin suggested to wet the legs only, the holy water did not look very hygienic. I was more than happy to agree! The water was not even knee deep in the first step in the river bank, I decided to go one more step down, then something told me to go one more, I drowned for the second time in my life, as there was no more steps at that bank. The picture repeated, bubbles came out, hands didn't find anything to grab, there was no landing unlike the water-tank episode. Also, Bubbles were not very clear as the water was neither. My cousin and some other ayyapan took me out of the water immediately. These memories do not have emotion too now. Although I did call out loud 'Swamiye Saranam Ayyappo!' on the further ascent to the temple. :P

My mother decided to sent me to swimming coaching class later and despite these previous experiences, I started to love swimming and believed that it is the next best thing to flying.

Ever since I came to Dubai, my swimming career has hit a recession. The hope to swim sooner or later drove me to buy a new swimming dress yet to be worn. In a dream couple of days back - I was standing in front of a pool. As I was about to jump in it, A whistle blew! "You are not supposed to swim in the pool wearing formal trousers and shirt." Time was ticking, the pool is open only for an hour. I rang a few numbers, ran a few rounds here n there and finally found a swimming dress! 30 minutes left for the pool timing to be over. My formal trousers was not coming off easily, Muscles seem stiff! It is taking even more time to put on the swimming dress, goggles, and head-cap on! Finally I am all set for swimming! Unfortunately there is just 5 minutes remaining. Well! 5 minutes is good enough for a round of swim! After all its been more than a year in Dubai of non-swimming. I dived into the water, it was cold, the feeling of water hitting your face after a long break, being blinded for a split second, the slight sensation of breathlessness, as we switch to the rhythm of breathing inside water.... But I woke up from my sleep... gasping! I was Binchufied.

Binchufied, absolutely binchufied. The sleep was gone, I couldn't swim yet again. 1 hour of waiting beside the pool. The feeling is best expressed as 'binchufied'. A word Able had coined.

Binchu n I was once travelling to UK. It was a long flight and the idle waiting stuck in your cramped seats was getting unbearable. The only hope was some beer. We patiently waited for the air hostess to serve beverages and food. Finally it was our turn to make a wish! Binchu happily ordered for a beer; but she brought him milk! Thus Binchufied...

Hungry cow and the shy grass

In my first days of dubai metro travel, I used to observe a strange culture neither Eastern nor Western - Men gave up their seats with no observable facial emotion to good looking women, they sometimes even jump out of the seat if she is a hottie! But sadly tend avoid eye contact if an elder was standing in-front of them, trying hard to reach the hand rail on top or get balance as the metro swiftly moves on. Dubai’s got the perfect cover for you to do that because everyone wears a sunglass here!
The result of this courteous act is a packed row of women sitting and men standing in front facing them. Wow! Reminds of cattle sheds, rows of cows with fresh juicy grass spread in front of them. All they need to do is push that head out n munch the yummy grass. But you can't do that here! If you drink or eat or even chew a bubble gum in this shed, you are entitled to win a fine upto 100 dhirams. So munching is definitely out of question! So what next!? :O... Suddenly we have a tough glass between our hungry cows and grass...

The optimist cows says ‘moooooooo!?!’ meaning 'so what!? It's not a ground glass or tinted one ;)'

Journey in the metro enters the next inevitable stage - Silence, Sleep, Stare, n Pull up!

Silence – Metro is so packed in morning peak hours that if you watch the metro going from outside, you will see a lot of spidermen sticking against the glass door. I myself being a regular spiderman miss sometimes the transportation at home where you can stick your butt out of the crowded bus and enjoy the feeling of living on the edge, as you pull up against the door when an electricity post comes forward to give that smack you needed much. Even though crowded as the metro is, the silence is unbearable at times; keeps you wondering where are all the kids and teens?!

Sleep – Yes, you are happy that you at-least have a job in this recession time. But the job is just too hectic that you don’t seem to get that 8 hours of blissful sleep you wish for. And there you are in the metro hoping to get that last 30 mins of sleep. Put on your sun-glass, sit upright, try not to snore – 3 simple steps to have a dignified snooze on the move.

Stare n Pull up – I don’t think there is any soul left in this age so innocent as not to understand this. Last week I saw a lady who wanted to sleep so badly that pulling up in between was not an option. She ingeniously figured a way around this – Put a handky on your cleavage! I felt as if the handky read 'There is nothing here for you dude!' 'Better luck next time!' 'I will knock your milk teeth off!' 'Ninnakku ammayum pengalum illada pulle' and so on. I skilfully moved away so that others don’t conclude that I was the sole cause for this! :D

The silence was broke by the announcement - ‘The next station is Jumeira Lake Towers!’ I hoped off for work wondering otherwise if the handky was to keep her warm?! Should I have offered my sweater! My restless mind wanted an answer, I tried to calm myself and watch my inner voice, the answer to all questions is within you I have read. I heard the voice ever so faintly – Mmmmoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! ;)

* According to UAE population census proportion of Men : Women is 3 : 1! Moooooooo!

The pigeon's curse

On an unusual Saturday hung-over* morning, I was recollecting what all I ate the night before, the breath smelled like I swallowed a cemetery the night before. Brushing did not help, the devil was inside... A bit of fresh air might help to get fresh and I stepped out to the balcony to be greeted by confused white pigeon!

I wondered if my friend and I had a 'hang-over' movie effect and decided to get a pigeon as pet. But the looks on the young bird suggested if it too was in one the many bird dance bars in Dubai watching exotic birds dance to birdywood masala songs. It looked disoriented by the unusual hung-over* it had the night before! By now both of us had realized what had happened... the birdy was trapped as my balcony had mesh all around to keep miscreeds like this one away. Neither of us got a clue on how she got inside! There was no hole in the mesh. My friend and me thought we would give her sometime to figure the way out while we have breakfast and think about a rescue mission afterwards.

Back from the breakfast, I went out to check again n she was gone! :O ... wonder struck for a couple of minutes till she was spotted on top of the window AC. Doh! Rescue mission... first to free our new inmate... and secondly to save us from washing bird poo on the balcony before its too late!

Took the bath towel to catch her and release to freedom... to find the next 15 mins chasing a chic (as other pigeons might have called this one) from one corner of the balcony to another... she put a good fight to escape from her rescuer! Just before both of us got tired, I got hold on her! She succumbed and admitted I won the catch. I felt proud... and pride got me into thinking I could take a snap of the catch and flaunt on my facebook. ahaaa! I bet that could fetch me a couple of likes! As dislike was not an option though many times I felt a lot of the likes was infact a sarcastic dislike so that others see the crap too.

Social media pressure crept into me craft-fully... without even me not realising it... my meditation on freeing my catch was lost and 'likes' floated in my head... my hands went weak for a couple of seconds and she knew it... with a sudden burst of energy the white pigeon freed her wings and slapped it hard. I put a last try to get my grip back on but ended up with a bouquet of feathers in my hand. I had lost the catch. Rescue mission had failed but cannot be abandoned, need to continue as she was on infront of me, free again now from my grasp, looking at me in disgust of ruining her feathers. That is how I confirmed it was a she. Unless it was another metro-sexual male pigeons who grooms himself everyday to work... for something another of his kind only will find sense in!

In that aghast as she looked at me.. taking steps backwards with eyes still on me and the other 2 humans now beside me... she found a gap! The gap through which she might have got in! It was a narrow gap on where a slice of glass was missing on the balcony. She dived to freedom at last! I did not notice her giving a look back... bird brain I guess... She flew away only to stop 3 building away... settling near her friends who has been all the while flying outside... laughing at her plight... and mine...

As I sat back inside, I wondered if the misunderstood bird had cursed me, thinking I was going to catch her and slave her or eat. I also thought this one was a good story to tell others... why not a blog! But I had stopped blogging for the same reason I lost the catch today. The idea of posting in social media had began to taken my focus on the subject. I had realized that I am not enjoying the beauty of the moment because my head gets distracted by the idea of posting! Frantic tweeting and let everyone know and fetch me my acknowledgement of my digital presence! A reason why I I never bought a SLR till now, cause it would hurt if the photo did not look as good as it really was, It will never be for sure.

But then I blogged again... :P ... Peace! The pigeon is free and I am cursed again... ;)

Addiction - Part 2

The guy stared at my friend with absolutely no expression on his face giving away the slightest clue on what was going on in this mind. Was he pitying the unfortunate state of my friend, was he wondering how anyone could get into such mess, maybe he was thanking god that he is much well off than the person he is staring at. I doubt any of these though, I think he was just simply staring with a blank mind, eating the banana his by-stander gave him.
Sight at medical college psychiatry ward was much better than the emergency ward. Everyone seemed fine except for the person I went to visit. Hands and legs tied to the four corners of the bed. Murmuring something which made absolute no sense. He had not eaten for the third consecutive day. Liquid food forcefully fed through a thin pipe going through his nose. Surrounded by friends and family, but he did not see a familiar face. A person who has been hit with the less commonly known and experienced child of addiction, the withdrawal syndrome. Parentage accepted by alcohol in this case.
I stepped 2 steps close to him, silently prayed to god for his well being, stepped back 2 steps, watched around, my help was not needed there. Went back home. I am not a believer of Him.

PS: The guy is fine now. :) Hopefully seen last of his favourite old companion.

Vande mataram

Vande mataram

Such sweet is the surrender that even the slightest strain of this melody captures the attention of every cell in me. Every hair stand up in respect and heart beats to its rhythm. Thoughts stop wandering about and vande mataram flows through my veins.

As the anthem comes to an end, there is a head rush on what surrender did i do for her? A few sights I have cherished and wondered in my life so far. To my Mother with all Her vibrance.

To the lady n son on route to jog falls

As the honda city went swiftly past the traffic to reach jog falls in time. We overtook an peti auto. There was a lady who held her son tight by her hands. She had a peace that radiated so beautifully on her face. Both were sitting on a rug, i could not spot a slight discomfort on both. The boy felt the safety of his mothers grip; as did i who drove past them in no more than a couple of minutes felt in seat belt gripping around my waist.

To the old women in Ladak

We rubbed our hands, cold inside the qualis, which moved slowly but steadily through the snow breeze en-route pangkong lake to Leh. The driver slowed again finding it hard as the visibility was going poor. Then we saw the two women waving their hands at us, smiling so happy to see a vehicle to probably give them a ride back town. In there late 40s or more I assume, they work for building roads in the thin air altitudes of leh, ensuring safe passage for our army men to keep our Independence safe and strong. When they got down in Leh and waved good bye to us - it was a blessing.

To the bridge builders

Every week as my bus go past trissur to ernakulam to the final destination tvm. I see the men working at 00:30, hitting hard on the steel rods for building the bridges. Their work for earning a daily bread is our country tomorrow. I would see this for a couple of seconds with the music stilling playing, adjusting my semi sleeper seat to incline more as I get ready to sleep.

The early morning tea maker and dil kush

Part 2 of the above journey is when i get down at trissur at 03:00 am. Shaken by sleep, struggling to put on the chappels in the dark, I finally stumble out of the bus. To find the old man near in front of the bus station. He has absolutely no expression on his face as he keeps on making tea of the early travellers; not a minute of rest, standing. His bald head and strong tea is something i would not forget. And the bit of dilkush along with the tea. All under rs 10.

Scene in allahabad
Patriotism in its peak; me and a couple of my college friends decided to go to allahabad to the army engineers selection. Lucky to pass the first round of selection; we got down at allahabad to be surrounded by a hundreds cycle ricksaw drivers, frantically trying to get hold of our luggage. Which was their way to make sure they got the costumer. Finally we decided to get on one, 3 of us with all our luggage on 1 cycle riska, as he flexed every muscle in his body to take us to a hotel, finally to earn 15rs. he was very indifferent, and so were we.

Flag during school days
I received an sms today morning on how we go about during this day to get a flag, to put it on our cycle when we were kids. we knew it was important, we did not know why though. Hope we will not have to find the the importance of the Independence the hard way.

Vande mataram
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IT5BdNGFp-o

The boundaries of mind

A glass of bitter sweet lemon juice and upma kicked off yet another much awaited Sunday morning with joy. I devoted myself with some news reading but failed to find something exciting. My thoughts were dying fast; sleep was winning the battle against the awake. But the sense of responsibility said to me 'Hey mate, dint you have an interview this Tuesday?'. That was good enough, I had not faced an interview for a really long time, a bit of preparation should not hurt. I crawled to system and typed 'www.te' but before completing this to 'www.tech...com', the browser history suggested 'www.telegraph.co.uk/technology'. Ahh, the gods might be suggesting something? I don't know, but i chose this site.

Of the many links, I was caught most by http://www.telegraph.co.uk/technology/news/7906399/India-unveils-the-23-iPad.ht
ml. A substitute for iPad for $35! I thought intentions were good, and went ahead to read the comments on the article. Many were thought provoking and good, but some had a sense of disassociation to it, a bit of the poison. Those comments went - 'India is rapidly catching up.. we better watch out' and 'we are making cost cuts whist we sent AID to India and India is subsidising for its students'. I am assuming the 'we' was United Kingdom, but that's not the point. Getting out an IPad alike for $35 has immense meaning were cheap technology can help poor and remote settlements to learn. But somehow some people give importance more to India in the 'India unveils $35 iPad' title. I blame them for making yet another of these ridiculously boring blog!

When whatshisname invented bulb; it did not just light his home or his nation alone. The whole world was lit! Why do we tend to draw boundaries, even on ideas. One we draw for the self, then one for the family, one for the community, one for the state, one for the country. These are not very colourful are they? Maybe there are colourful ones like the one for the football club, for the music genre, for the cuisine. So many of them out there and within.

Could it help if we rub all those lines away and take a look. May be life will become all too simple and humans will cease to exist or will go back into the wild...

Life is a journey

Is it really a journey? I never thought so, I have not travelled more than my neighbours paddy field. In fact, I have never travelled more than what Asianet told me to. But I do know there is a guy who eat lizards n snake and doesnt like puttu n kadala! His parents think he just wants to be on TV... influenzed by Guiness world record in AXN.

I have heard many a say 'Life is a journey'. Just like places pass by whilst the train cuts through civilisation, Time passes by in this strange journey called life. It passes by sometimes quick, sometimes it never seem to move, feels stuck. But even the convict feel the speed by which time has withered his cell bars. The journey resumes even when our body stand still... The journey resumes even when our thoughts stand stagnent... The journey resumes... Until time stops... Until the game times out...