Cows on Ice, and Others..

Nov 4th, 2006

There is no pain, you are receeding

No distant ship smoke on the horizon..

So here it is.. Another two weeks, another session comes to an end. This one is a little tricky. The bunch refuses to put in any effort at work, but are more than enthu otherwise. Following one short conversation where I told them that I enjoy a Single Malt now and again, they present me with a bottle of the stuff on the last day, and make me think about whether I actually behave like an alcoholic. Also, they decide that we must bond, over food and booze, and that On Toes is the place, Juhu being the targeted zone. What chance do I, but a lesser mortal have?

Thus we set out, me having picked up Pumpy from the zone of the to-be-condemned, the e-learning room (though the kind of things that one learns there leaves a lot to be desired, yes siree). After a quick smoke downstairs, I get Ea from the garage, and Pumpy clambers on. We thump out-the-gate. Five seconds later she almost has a heart attack, and from there on, every minute includes a delightful onset of palpatations, followed by a shriek, everytime the brakes are hit. She be unsettled, and to put it in a wise man’s words, “as awkward as a cow on ice!”

She ’sits’ on the brink of falling, fretting and fuming, and just when I’ve kind of calmed her down, my true love, Ea gives up on me. And then it begins..

At some point on the longest road in the city, (not to mention ‘while I was following someone since I didn’t know the way’) Ea shuts down. And she is not easily persuaded to come back to life. Pumpy isn’t too happy to begin with, and now she’s definitely gonna do something drastic.. I dunno .. maybe hug someone. This calls for serious thought. I check Ea quickly and professionally, with the look and touch of someone who’s been doing this for years. I check the ignition, the battery, and exhaust pipe, and carburettor, and my mind, by my phenomenal powers of deduction, manages to decipher the problem in a short 3 minutes.. It says,

‘Give me fuel, give me fire, give me that which I desire.’

I nonchalantly express my thoughts on the matter, suggesting that a little petrol wouldn’t really hurt at this point. So we start walking around looking for a fuel station. Pumpy says she’s never walked down this road before. I tell her I haven’t either. Adventure is always good. Change, the only constant. Do not expect, for it is futile. Just live. Period. A five minute rickshaw ride, and we’re there. Pumpy is forced to hand over her Aquafina bottle, thankfully its empty. We quickly fill it, and return. Five minutes later Ea still shows no signs of Coming Back to Life. My powers of deduction start hinting that something may be wrong after all.. And just then, she returns! She speaks.. God Damn it.. She ROARS!.. And Pumpy and I are off again.

Here I am, on the road again

There I am, up on the stage

Here I go, playing star again

There I go….. Turn the page

The stop has taken about twenty minutes, and my poor trainees in the car ahead are still waiting for me, bless them. I stop for a quick fuel top up and we’re on our way to Juhu.. WOOHOO!! It is a pleasant ride, save the occasional bump on the road which causes certain hyperactive-i’m-shitting-bricks-type-individuals sitting in close proximity to make the bike almost capsize. We pass the Big B’s house, and she pokes fun at how small it is.. Maybe Robert De Niro could do better. We compare property rates in the US and our city. We talk about issues, and I tell her about this incident when I was a child (and at the risk of sounding like a complete fool, ‘I had (not!) a fever’)..

*Blink*

So I was on my way to Delhi from Chennai, I think. Must’ve been about six years old. Maybe seven. My mum was fooling around with her toes. She kept hacking away at them with this silvery knife like thing. I asked her what she was doing, to which she replied that she was making her nails sharper. Enlightenment dawned upon me. my face started shining with realisation.

Fifteen minutes later my mum smacked me upside the head, and asked me what I was doing. I replied that I was using her ‘Nail File’ for its proper use - to sharpen. What exactly was I sharpening, she wanted to know. I looked at her as though it was more than obvious, and returned the file with a huff.

I had this thing.. People (equals my parents) would keep making fun of me because I had a button nose, which showed no signs of growing at the same pace as the rest of me. I had had enough, and decided that the file might actually be the answer. Unfortunately.. sigh..

*Blink*

She laughs. Pumpy is amused. God damn humans! Here I am, narrating a rather embarassing incident in my life in the name of bonding, and she laughs! The audacity of the turtle-nosed specimen!

We finally reach On Toes, its about 5.30pm. The time is right. The time is perfect. It calls to us, My Precious.. Kingfisher. We step up to the entrance, at which point we’re politely informed that the doors open at seven. So much for that outing. This mortal is condemned. This day shall not go down as a day where people did normal things.

So here we are, cracking jokes, at the corner of the street, and I feel like I’m laughing within.. etc.. etc.. We sit, chat about random crap, while some of the trainees from Dimension X inspect Ea and pay her compliments. She looks fatigued, and needs rest. A little trickle of engine oil down the side sparks a rather technical and therefore, boring conversation which I get out of ASAP.

I decide that I cannot possibly sit around till seven. So I ask random people walking down the street where the nearest Beer joint is. Unfortunately everything is shut nearby. Its not customary to drink before seven. Apparently it doesn’t speak well of one’s character.

So I do the next best thing. I drag Pumpy along, and go get myself coconut water. Just too tempting to resist. And, believe it or not, the chap had refrigerated coconuts!!! End result - Satisfaction Guaranteed!! After much fussing and hemming and hawing - the usual formality ( = gimmicks!), she has one too. Five minutes and nirvana later, there I am, eating the last of the coconut cream (direct translation of Malai!) and wishing there was more. But, like all delicious things, this too must come to an end.

By 6, we have had enough. So we demand our right to get wasted on a Saturday evening. It works, and by a quarter past, we’re seated inside On Toes, which is smelling of freshly sprayed room freshner. We have just spent ten minutes trying to get the seating figured out, and now there is peace. The calm before the storm.

We order. And there it is.. the promised land? More like the promised Sea.. pitchers of beer, hell yeah! We wait for the usual accompaniments, but none arrive. So I call out.. Mishra, where are the peanuts? to which he says that they aren’t complimentary any more. This catches me by surprise. Just the though of it. To drink without munchies??!! Can this really be happening. Also, not to mention the fact that I was there the night before, devouring the freebies! So I call out again, ‘Mishra, call Ramkishen ji (our usual server). He’ll get us peanuts.’ Once Ramkishen ji’s name is taken, action is swift. A cheer goes up around the table, with the coming of the peanuts. And Surd said, ‘Let there be Joy. And there was Joy.’

Two hours, a few beers, and some hard rock later, we’re ready to push. By ‘we’ I probably mean Pumpy and I. We pay up, I profess undying love for my batch, and we’re on our way. Since we have no direction in life, she ends up back at my place. Del and Loki are home, Del hurriedly trying to cover his modesty as Pumpy walks in. Fifteen minutes later she’s on her way home. Now finally, for some peace and quiet after a long, hectic day…

Escalators and Other Monsters

So my ‘visit’ to the dentist is finally done with. I’m to meet pumpy for coffe.. apparently she owes me, coz she snapped at me a week back or something like that. I obviously accept. Free coffe.. always a bonus! So we meet at Infinity. Right outside Landmark. Thit is the tough bit - to wait outside the city’s coolest book store, (when one has a fetish for books) and not buy anything because one is too broke. She arrives, and since she’s one of the book reading clan, promptly walks in. Without much choice I follow, and keep my eyes diverted from the racks of books on display. It is a gargantuan effort, worth commending. If you think trekking in the Everest region is challenging, wait till you try this. I make the most feeble attempt at engrossing myself in a conversation - um.. with myself, and for some strange reason it doesn’t seem to be working. I do the next best thing - I start chatting with her so that my attention is diverted from the books. It kinda works. I walk out twenty minutes later having bought only one book, setting me back only Rs 100. It is most definitely an achievement for me. A first. We move to the coffee bar at the foodcourt on the same level. CCD. People seem to love the crap they sell there. For a change, I am pleasantly surprised by what I get to drink - an Iced Caramel, or something along those lines.

We settle down at a table, with Pumpy making fun of the dressing sense of the various ‘characters’ roaming about, or the lack thereof. Mz. S is supposed to meet us there, and we wait it out, arguing over who she loves more, Pumpy or me. As always, we never reach a conclusion with that one.

An hour passes, and Mz S calls, saying that she’s waiting at an eating joint down the road. So we set off, as Pumpy’s supposed to accompany her for a play. Now, owing to this pretty little thing called technology, our trip downstairs becomes dangerous. A matter of life and death, as I am about to find out. Only the strong survive. She dreads the inevitable. I know nothing about it, yet. We take a turn, and find our path blocked by the Monster. It is a sight that terrifies Pumpy. It is active, moving at a steady speed, caged within its boundaries. Unfortunately for us, we need to pass through its territory. Its jaws expand and contract. It is rather intimidating for one unused to such things. This is the moment that will decide all. Will the world turn upside down? Will the Monster devour the lesser mortals approaching it? The suspense it way too much to take. We step on to the escalator. Pumpy promptly crushes my left hand and freezes in the perfectly co-ordinated way that is typical of her. A turtle on stilts trying to moon-walk down the Kanchenjunga would be a fair allusion. Not to mention the state of my left hand. All this while she hasn’t mentioned anything regarding escalators, and so I’m more than a little taken aback with whats happening. The best way to cover my surprise is to laugh. So I do. I poke fun, ” Say, Pumpy, you’re from the states, woman. What’s with the fear of escalators?” And such. Pumpy, as always at a time like this, is not amused. She closes her eyes and prays to the Machine Gods, promising her soul after death, if she would only reach the Ground Floor in one piece. Incidentally if I reach with my left hand detached from my body it’s acceptable. I cannot comprehend how one brought up in the States can be so terrified of machines. Into the Unknown, Episode 435.

I get Ea, and after about fifteen minutes, we reach the rendezvous point. Voila! There’s nobody there. Mz. S has left because its getting late. There we are, figuring out what to do, and I suggest we might as well eat. So we enter Urban Tadka. Its got the atmosphere of a typical ethnic Punjabi dhaba. The waiters are dressed in Pathan suits, with little waist coats to with them. the tables and chairs are made of rough, uneven wood, to give the place a homely feel (or what homely would feel like to people who live in such homes). Suspended from the ceiling are the most interesting lamp shades made of bangles. Good form there. There is however, a stark contrast, as posters of the latest Matrixy movies decorate the walls. And of course, there is my good friend Himesh singing in the background, what would we do without him? All in all, a place to be!

So we get down to work. By the time I wash my hands and get back to the table (otherwise called 2 minutes), I find that appetizers have already been ordered. The name Pumpy hasn’t gone to waste. Five minutes later her eyes light up. I know whats coming. Over Chicken tikka and Seekh kababs, we chat. About the most arbit stuff on the planet. Starting with fights in college days, and how that never seems to happen in the City of Dreams, for some strange reason. I tell her about Stephens, and all the non-studying I did there. I tell her about Lisa, about Surd, about basketball days, and of course, Saasha Singh and his lamp post. That one never seems to grow old for some inexplicable reason. Pumpy seems amused. Whats new?

We start the Jugalbandi - story after story. Each topping the previous one. We discuss the crazy things that people tend to do in the name of seeking adventure. Various locations across the country that would make a person believe in the supernatural. Bodhgaya, Patal Bhuvneshwar, Panchgani, the Aran islands, the works. We talk about sub-terranean caves, and the magic they hold. natural rock formations, Shiv Lings, tunnels connecting various parts of the country, ruins of ancient forts, and the history behind it all. And a couple of beers never did me any harm while talking. So our short meal lasts about three hours. By this time we’ve moved on to stories of frustrated men watching porn in shady theaters and gratifying themselves. The joys of life. And the things people can talk about!

By this time, the Badam Kheer arrives, and Pumpy digs in. I’m obliged to taste, and man - AWESOME would not even begin to describe it! After thats done with, we ask for the bill, as its getting late. I play the role of the chivalrous one and pick the tab and smoothly pass my card over to the waiter, ignoring a violently protesting creature sitting next to me. Then, as with every episode, something flips. He says that the card machine ain’t working. And i’m not carrying enough money to pay for myself, forget others. Typical situation.. it’s a typical..

Thankfully Pumpy has cash on her, and pays up. So here I am, red faced and wondering how I’m going to negate the embarassment. She’s polite enough not to mention it. We pick up the doggy bag and leave. Outside, we share the usual formal goodbye. She leaves, and I head off to pick J up from rehearsals.

Thus another day comes to an end..

coffee with #%*! (eww)

Sunday morning I’m wakin up,

Can’t even focus on my Coffee cup,

Don’t even know whose bed I’m in,

Where do I start, where do I begin??

The weekend is here, the day of Rest hath arrived. Pumpy calleth, we decide to meet for the drink made with those beans which have a unique aroma, strangely sensual. The venue is confirmed. A short tuk-tuk ride later I reach, and sit next to her. A second later she begins, cribbing about how the outdoor seating thing isn’t happening and the afternoon is not the time of day to do things like these. She harasses a couple dozen of unsuspecting Sunday-Afternoon coffee drinkers into making way for her at the table she REALLY wants to sit at. It’s Order time!

The cappucino arrives for the All-American beverage drinker. I order a thick Chocolate shake - appetizing as it is; a rich blend of milk and chocolate and crushed ice.. heaven.. on paper.. It arrives; and its more like chocolate flavored water. What more can one ask for?! huh? This is followed by the Chocolate Excess, a dream on a regular day - chocolate cake drowned by thick chocolate sauce. On this day, the cake doesn’t quite taste like it’s been made after the turn of the millennium. Half a cappucino later, Pumpy decides to be herself and dump the cup. She orders Earl Gray. Which is awesome, but the only problem is that she doesn’t really know how to mix tea with milk. As a result, it turns out looking like she had sent up a prayer to the Earl Gods, which had in turn been rudely rejected. The expression on her face after the first sip confirms that the taste matches the way it looks. I think I derive joy from these things. I laugh away. Bindaas.

We chat about the usual (?) crap like Eminem and his profundity, and time flies by. The Chocolate Excess has found a partner to spend share the rest of its short lived life with - a scoop of Vanilla. The chemistry between the two truly is terrific. May their digested souls Rest In Peace.

We move onto Mr. Nice, and about how nice he wasn’t and how cool he IS.. sigh.. the things people find interesting at a coffee table really does leave something to be desired, especially when one of them knows nothing ABOUT Mr. Nice. A life of con. Thus we live. Oblivious to all else around.

An hour passes, it is time to bugger off to Food Bazaar. Pumpy gets set to head to Landmark. Books in the pipeline - must be bought. We step out of Barista and are suddenly confronted by a lady in her mid forties. She’s dressed like a Banjaran, complete with a bright, colorful, expressive Ghagra-Choli. She looks a little out of place on the main roads of Mumbai, but it is a rather welcome sight. Brings back memories of Hyderabad days.

Salma. That’s how she be calling herself. Comes up to us holding a tray full of stickers of all kinds - from little red hearts to help one on with his or her cheesy existence, to pictures of various celebrities who’re worshipped around the country. Most people refer to all of them as one entity - confused humans - they call them God. Priced fairly at ‘Pay-whatever-you-think-it’s-worth’ per sticker.

Salma starts chatting with us, and wants us to shop from her little inventory of goodies. She proceeds to tell Pumpy that one day she’ll be happily married and will find the ideal match who will make her life complete. Pumpy’s a little pink in the face. I, however, have no such luck. No words prophesying any form of good luck, peace, and happiness coming my way. Drat these women.. They’ll bond anywhere! After we’ve fixed Pumpy’s wedding date and determined how many children she’s likely to pop out, we shop from Salma. She tries to bum me a sticker with one of the celebs on it, but I politely refuse and pay her for it anyway. Pumpy procures a picture of the sharp tempered one with a Black Tongue.

We bid farewell to Salma and to each other. Ration shopping calls to ‘us’. Sigh.. to run a house.. and some people say its easy..

... to die for

V: so tell me a happy memory

eru: Ok.. this one’s what changed my life..

its ridiculous to talk about it.. coz it doesnt sound like anything major.. but its what changed the way I think completely..

i may have told u this..

V: no tell me

eru: it was after second year college.. when i went to ireland..

I was on an island called Inish Mor, off the west coast of ireland.. for 3 days..

its probably the oldest part of ireland.. most ppl only speak Gaelic out there..

so I’m walking around.. looking at old forts etc.. alone..

V: hmmm

eru: and someone told me about this place called the Black Fort which was on a cliff.. so i climbed this trail..

there was nobody around for as far as i could see in any direction..

V: and?

eru: I got to the top.. and the ground leveled out for about 100 meters.. where I’m guessing the fort was..

there was nothing left of it.. it was just jet black rock for kilometers on either side.. and the sea in front..

and it was really windy.. when the wind would start suddenly.. it would make me move a step or two to my side..

and i’m petrified of heights..

but i walked towards the edge..

V: ok..

eru: no railings, nothing.. just level ground.. and the drop to the sea

V: oh god! and?

eru: so i went there.. and obviously couldn’t stand near the edge coz it was too windy.. so i lay down.. took off my backpack .. and crawled to the edge.. It wasn’t halfway pleasant, but seemed the right thing to do.

the toughest thing i ever did.. was push my neck over the edge.. because it feels like u’ll fall.. even though the rest of yourbody is on the rock..

V: this is like a movie ..

eru: my mind forgot logic..

completely.. the only thing there to hold on to was the edge.. smooth black rock..

I put my face over the edge and looked down..

V: ANDDDDDDDDDDDD?

eru: the cliff was completely vertical.. almost like the hill behind my house in Bombay..

but it was 300 feet high..

and i saw the water smashing against the rocks at the bottom.. and then i looked up

all i could see was sea.. the wind was wrestling with me.. trying to make me move..

V: i have goose bumps all over my body!!!

eru: and i inched up another foot or so..

so chest upwards i was off the cliff..

and that day… i flew…

V: no!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

eru: i looked all around.. i saw the world in those ten minutes..

i saw life..

and i saw my death..

and the crazy bit is..

the only thing i WANTED to do at that moment..

V: was…

eru: was to dive off the cliff..

V: I KNEW U WERE GOING TO SAY THAT!

eru: Here’s the messed up part. I went to my backpack.. wrote a letter to my folks (they still don’t know any of this!) saying that I wouldn’t be coming back home.. and left my phone in the bag for someone to find…

and went back.. and was lying like that for fifteen minutes..

and i was happy… i just let go of everything around me.. everything in my life.

just like that..

and i dont know.. maybe i would’ve gone.. but someone came up and shouted out at me.. so i moved back..

And that was probably the happiest day of my life, come to think of it..

That was the day I forgot fear of Death. I embraced it.. and ever since, it’s been an ally..

me: hmm.. now u know why death doesn’t perturb me

m: hmm…

11:55 but it doesn’t just not perturb you….u LIKE it

me: its a friend..

embrace death.. and theres nothing left to scare u

m: somebody else’s?

me: embrace it like u would a pet dog.. who could .. COULD .. one fine day turn around and attack you

11:56 nobody’s death scares me..

i’ve spent enough time contemplating it..

and i will accept death.. i definitely wont be happy about it..

but i’m not scared of it

m: stop..

u’ll live

me: i know i’ll live..

11:57 me: thats the thing..

im not interested in dying.. I don’t really care about it.. thats why i screw around so much..

i know i’m not going young..

the problem is i know a lot of ppl around me will..

thats probably why i fuck with death so much.. i kinda taunt it.. to take me.. but it wont.

11:58 m: u have no control over it…do u see that…

me: ofcourse i see it.. i always knew that..

i dont want Control..

that would make life Predictable and Boring

12:00 m: breathe…life CAN be a lazy day on the beach u know…the waves dont have to eat u up…let them just come and lap against ur feet..hear them…sing to them…

me: hahah.. i’m at peace with the world .. i am..

m: with the world…but in ur head?

12:01 me: that doesnt matter.. the way i see it.. i have too much to do .. to wait for a lazy day at the beach..

as and when it is time.. that too shall happen

my head’ll pull thru..

me: dragon-hide is real tough material!

I’d like to see How tough.. Push till I can’t any more.. Fight till I drop.. It is the way of the Dragonkind..

The Power and the Glory

Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do???

whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

The day starts as any other, in office.

Enquiry. Booking. Conformation. Event!

Issue - Nobody around to conduct the game.

Solution - The Dragon moves into gaming.

So here I am sitting in the front seat of my car, enjoying the barren, sun-burnt landscape of the heartlands of jaat-land, on my way to the gaming zone. Ajay’s in charge of the red steed, where he belongs, content. Four little piggies in the back seat, lambs on their way to slaughter. Fun times await.

We’re about ten minutes away from the destination. The road is long and narrow; traffic is single file. Only there is no traffic at this moment. There’s only us. I’m lost in the scenery, secretly yearning for a life where I won’t be required to do anything except Live. Close to nature, answerable to no-one, and with nobody waiting for me. Just my books, and my guitar. My profound escapist thoughts are abruptly clipped as Ajay swerves to the side and slams on the brakes. I look up, startled. A white Scorpio has cut us off and stopped diagonally across the road. I see a little Indian flag on the bonnet, fluttering vigorously in the wind, trying to cut loose and get away - from something it detests. As though it actually can. The fate of our nation. Politicians.

This view is also promptly disrupted as my attention is more than taken up by the five men jumping out and walking up to my car. Now, if something like this happens on a regular day, it really doesn’t perturb me too much. The only thing I can’t understand is, “Why the Fuck are they carrying sticks?!” A second later one stick comes crashing down on my window, and I open my door. I try to ask them what the problem is. In Haryanvi, they tell Ajay and I to get out of the car. We comply. They get in and start hitting two of the boys at the back. No explanations. But then, when you’re at the receiving end of someone’s love (being displayed in the form of a knuckle sandwich), not too many explanations are required.

Ajay and I try to get them to stop, but they won’t. Neither will they hit either of us. It’s more than weird. Finally I manage to pull one jaat off the boy in the back seat. Apparently not a brilliant move.

I’m looking him in the eye. For over a minute. I don’t move. Maybe it would’t be advisable.

The Reason - He has a revolver plastered against my forehead.

He’s screaming at me in Haryanvi, but I don’t listen. My attention isn’t quite on his unceasing flow of profane eloquence. He’s getting more and more furious at me. I still don’t speak. His anger changes to bewilderment. I think I know why. All through the last minute, I’ve been staring at him, smiling. Unafraid. Stupid.

Thankfully for me, Ajay intervenes and talks to him. He reluctantly moves away from me.

Flabbergasted as he is, he manages to stutter-spit out two words of english before departing. “Plea Shit” he says, pointing to my car seat. And he leaves with his men.

And once again, it is over.

Humans…

Super-Man Bombs

Alok gets on my case : “Sir what are we doing today after the session. Lets go for a beer!” This is instantly backed by the chorus of agreeing voices. I smile and shrug my shoulders, not saying anything.

“Please sir, come on na! We’ve never had a beer together..”

“Alok, that Might be because I’m in charge of training you, and till that’s done, there’s no beer for either of us?? No?”

“But we must go out SOMEWHERE !! It’s been a hectic session” Argh… the way of the persistent.

“Fine. In Orbit it is. How about a movie? Check out the movie timings. We’ll go at 5.”

As luck has it, a Star has returned to the world, to save it from unspeakable evil in the form of a bald Kevin Spacey. That’s right amigo, Superman Returns! Oh Joy!!

All 17 of us saunter into the movie hall; I’m trying not to bounce with joy coz Superman’s come back after soooooo long! But I cannot bounce - I am their trainer, remember?! Images.. sigh..

The movie begins, the trademark lock of hair on the forehead brings back memories from wetting-the-bed-days; bliss!

Half way through a trainee on my left leans over and whispers, “A bomb blast happened”, to which another to my right side replies, “Superman ko bula na, he’ll save everyone!”. I laugh along with them. The things people do to de-stress after training programs. Ouch..

Half an hour later all our phones have messages saying, “Bomb blasts all over. Are you ok?” Realisation begins to sink in. This is suddenly turning out to be a not-so-fun outing. My trainees start freaking out, and I’m wondering what to do. All of them want to go home asap. The phone lines are all jammed by now. So no calling anyone. I convince them to stay in the hall till things settle down. It takes some serious people skills to make them stay. Fortunately, it works.

Two hours later, there is still commotion everywhere. Traffic is at a standstill. Trains are not operational. There is a red-alert in the city. Grizzly images of the ripped train compartments on the news. Hundreds of people missing parts of their bodies- people fortunate enough to have survived the seven blasts which took place within a few minutes of each other. And here we are sitting in a centrally air-conditioned mall, trying to find an excuse to be scared for our lives, behaving like we’ve survived something major.

Let me tell you just how major it gets. So the trains are obviously not running; or by this time, not exploding. Road traffic is fucked beyond repair. Option 3?? lets walk. So I whine and crib to myself, and set off at a brisk pace down linking road towards Andheri. Its roughly 8km from Malad. Takes about an hour. Oh bother! The tribulations of the corporate executive. Damn! I’m stressed out and in serious shock. I think this calls for a Single Malt.

I guess it’s bound to happen. How else does one feel that sense of belonging? One can’t possibly be left out of all conversation following an event like this without having his own two-bits to add, no? I have to assert my right as a citizen of Mumbai, in order to gain the attention I rightfully deserve : The awe-struck gaze of friends and family when I tell them that I was one of the ‘Survivors’ of this massacre of sorts. That furtive glance up to the heavens (which includes a short prayer thanking God for having saved my worthless behind) when I tell people that I was scheduled to be on a train at roughly the same time that the blasts took place. So maybe I was. That doesn’t amount to Anything. Fact of the matter is, I wasn’t on the train. I was chilling with my batch. I’m sure, in some perverse way, it would make my life a whole lot more meaningful and exciting if I was actually on the train, and had survived the blasts. There would be so many more questions to answer. So many people interested in hearing what I have to say. Maybe I’d be fortunate enough to feature on a cover story on the News. Maybe. Man, that would be the life, wouldn’t it? My face being viewed by tens of thousands of people. My expression - suitably sombre, perfect for a serious interview where I get to express my views on how people are just taking my city for granted and this time also, as so many times before, Mumbaikars will bounce back in a day and move on with their lives. I’d be telling them that this was it - the last straw.. There’s only so much that any city can take. First the ‘93 bombs, then the July 26th Floods, and now this. Enough. No more.

Yes, I could do justice to it, I think.

But that’s not happening right now. Doubt it ever will. For the simple reason that I have nothing to contribute as far as the blasts are concerned. I don’t even know anyone who was present on the trains at the time. Frankly, I don’t even care about it beyond the general concern for fellow humans, if that. What difference has it made to me? Oh, I know… I get to walk into office late tomorrow because the trains will be delayed due to excessive security checks. What joy.. I have something to discuss with my colleagues and friends in office for the next week, “So, what were you doing at the time?”. I also have so much to watch on the news - How did the explosions take place? Where all did they happen? Where were the bombs planted? Who is responsible? To eternity and back..

Welcome to the real world. This be our playground.