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..

to Rama

Thats our blood down there,

Seems poured from the hands of angels,

And trickles into the ground.

Leaves the warehouse so bare and empty

And my heart’s numbered beat

Will echo in this empty room,

And fear wells in me

Nothing seems big enough to defend

So I’m going away…

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…

to all the Tubthumpers

…..In the clearing stands a boxer

And a fighter by his trade,

And he carries a reminder

Of every glove that laid him down

Or cut him till he cries out

In his anger and his shame,

“I am leaving, I am leaving”,

But the fighter Still remains….

- The Boxer (Simon & Garf)

The Flight of the Dragon

‘On the road to trivandrum

Coconut oil in my hair..’

The ever invigorating lyrics of Hotel Keralafonia are bouncing off the walls of my mind, kind of like a hippo balanced on a ski sled with stilts under it. All in all, not too smooth. It is a beautiful Saturday morning, as the Sun rises over the City of Dreams. I surface bright and early, bags packed, ready to roll.

Temporary destination - Santa Cruz Airport

Final Destination - The Capital

Reason - New Years Party ‘07

Departure - 8.20am

Mode of Travel - Air Deccan

Chapter 1 - Baggage Screening

Time Check - 7am

On first glance, I see half the population of Bombay on Hajj. A kind of orderly one if I may say so. Hajj with a multitude of trolleys. Hajj with people of various religions. Hajj without the stampede. Hajj in an air-conditioned surrounding. Hajj with an equal number of sleep-walkers, bored parents, impatient businessmen, and women-who’re-prepared-for-an-impromptu-meeting-with-Brad-Pitt-at-7am.

Ok.. I said AT FIRST GLANCE. I’m assuming the Hajj is rather different in reality. Peace.

For some retarded reason, Deccan decides that four aircrafts need to take off within twenty minutes of each other, early in the morning. The result - A queue a hundred strong. Really, just thinking about this all over again makes my fingers heavy.. They refuse to type.. sigh.. Forty minutes into the wait, I’m still twenty people away from the X-Ray machine.

Time Check - 7.40am

Just as I am getting ready to unpack my super-special-handy-collapsible-pocket-sized sleeping bag, I hear a frantic cry from behind, “All Daeli Pus-An-jar, please be screen baggage.” Divine intervention. A quick overtake from the right, and my Sardar Co-passenger and I are twenty places in front, nonchalantly looking around at the others, who for some strange reason look more than a little indignant. La La La La La..

Chapter 2 - Security

Time Check - 7.45 am

So we quickly collect our boarding cards and weave through the web of man-things in order to get to Security. Brillianto! Mama Mia.. MAMAAAAAAAAA… This queue’s got only another 70 people in it, and moving at the pace of a Buddhist Elephant who’s attained nirvana. A little tear quietly worms its way out of my eye and plops to the ground - well actually to my shoe. My life is flashing before my eyes. I think of all the happy times I’ve had, and some of the sad ones; drunken get-togethers, movies, girlfriends, break-ups, family, basketball. And then I think about how the downfall of a mighty person takes place. Another quiet tear finds its way to my shoe. The Fall from grace. How a person goes from screening baggage and clearing security in twenty minutes; to screening baggage being stuck in security for over an hour.

Time Check - 8.10am

Panic does a brilliant job of settling in when least expected. In general. This day my mind fights it for a bit and then gives in. And IT settles. I’m gonna miss my flight.. i’m gonna miss my flight.. i’m Fuckin well gonna miss my flight!! Help me oh no I’m not going to get to Delhi I’ll be stuck in Bombay and I don’t want to be I’ll spend New Year’s in the blasted airport I don’t want to see certain people help me help me how will I party with my sis who’s just come back to Delhi from the US damn shit crap fuck bugger arse fuckin hole…

Breathe, boy! I’m standing right behind the Sardar ***, who’s trying to sweet talk people into letting him break the queue, all the while maintaining the urgency in his voice. Side note - I must learn this someday. To keep my face straight, and persuade people to do things which suit me in a million ways (jumping with anticipation and joy from within, but not being allowed to show any of it), without letting on that it could be of any possible benefit. You know, kinda how business deals are made, I guess. Of course Surdie is politely (by and large, but not By the Large) refused by everyone in front of him. We are reduced to stamping our feet with frustration. My right shoe is a little damp by this time; can’t quite get the other eye to pop a tear out. Embarrassing really.

Time Check - 8.20am

So this is it. The End. Will there be no more divine intervention? Who helps people only once when they need it some more? That’s just cruel. Wait! Shhhh.. listen.. I hear it… “ALL DAELI PuS-AN-JARS, PLEASE!” Woohoo baby.. that would be us! Once again, giving polite nods all around, and staring down our noses at people in front of us, now behind us, we move to the Security area. I’m made to put my phone into a little tray which goes through the X-Ray Machine. However, wallets need not be put into trays. They can be checked my the hand-held metal detectors. Genius.. Sheer Genius.

***Chapter 2.5 - The Sardar

I completely forgot about this one. So the man’s in the airport at 7 on a cloudy Bombay morning, where all is dim. Except him. No sir! Standing tall at about 6′1″, the height accentuated (or not!) by a 40 inch waist. And designer-wear. And Designer-wear. And desig….blub blub blub.. In his defense, I really must add, that on a cloudy morning in that city, there’s always a chance of staring right AT the sun while you’re inside an Airport Terminal. That would explain the wrap-around Red Oakleys on his face.

Ahem.. So the black full sleeve sweater (ouch!) looks like something I would ideally expect on a body like Leonidas (This.. Is.. SHPARTAAA!!) but apparently he is unavailable to help display the best quality of the sweater - the fact that it hugs the wearer tighter than a koala does its mum (apparently busy on a shoot or thereabouts). So Leonidas’ body double a.k.a Baby-face Surdie steps in. But, in retrospect, without this exchange, I wouldn’t have ever figured out his waist size otherwise. Oh yippee yay ~

Right. Moving along. So at security there are plenty of boards around saying ‘No liquid items to be carried in hand baggage’ - Due to recent terrorist activities in the UK or some jazz. Surdie’s bag is called upon for checking. NOT NOW! Bugger him. Out come 4 bottles of cologne; Gucci, Armani, Bulgari and Ferrari. “Sir the sign says liquids are not allowed. You will have to leave these here.”

“What nonsense! These are not liquids. These are colognes. Can you not tell the difference. These are from Bangkok.”

Here’s where I leave him to argue and run towards the exit for the aircraft.

Time Check - 8.30am

Apparently the craft is waiting only for the two of us. Already ten minutes late. Indian service I say. Brilliant. Any other place, and the plane would’ve left. I love INDIA!! Right, so I run into the aisle and find my seat, by default, because the blooming airline has free seating (so if you’re lucky enough to be a part of the first bus that reaches the craft, you’ll also be fortunate enough to participate in the ensuing stampede to find a seat of you’re choice - just like a local train in Bombay- an experience). I get dirty looks from a few people but I don’t care. Surdie enters and receives the remaining dirts. I breathe and slump back into my seat. The air-hostesses have already begun their speech. “Kindly put your mobile phones off for the flight.” I reach into my pocket…

“Madam you need to understand, my phone’s at security. It’s fifty yards away from the craft. I haven’t lost it. I know where it’s lying. PLEASE let me get it. PLEASE PLEASE!” I’m begging the air-hostess.

“Let me ask the captain”. Captain says,”Hurry the hell up! we’re really late”

Time Check - 8.40am

I move out onto the ramp and start to descend. The ground officer starts screaming at me to get back in. I tell him about my phone. “Forget it man! FORGET IT! You’re phone’s gone man, you’re not getting it back now man. It’s over man!”

So I tell him in that case I need to get off the plane as my phone costs three times as much as my ticket. He says nothing doing. I finally tell him I have the captain’s permission. He doesn’t quite believe me so I call him into the plane to talk to Captain Sahib. He does. I sprint down the steps and run into the building. What phenomenal security, I say!

A passenger’s running all over the tarmac and then into the building. The only guard I come across asks me “Where are you going?”, without stopping me. I reply while on the run “to get my phone”. He nods, satisfied.

I reach security and ask the guard if he has my phone. He does. I take it, say thank you, and am about to leave, when he stops me. “Where are you going sir? You left your phone behind, no? It is your fault, no? Now you will fill a form, yes?” I try to tell him that my flight’s already half an hour late thanks to me. He’s not impressed. With a benign smile on his face he replies, “Arre Sahib, the flight will not go anywhere. I work here. I know how things function. You relax. If you want tea I will order?” I’m not sure whether to take him seriously or not. I decide against it. So I quickly fill in the form, and run back out. Nobody bothers checking my boarding pass while I exit the terminal. I wave at the guard and he waves back, asking if I got my phone. I’ve left him thirty yards behind by then.

Time check - 9am

I reach the craft. The ground officer is stepping out of the plane, looking grumpy as hell. He tells me I can get my phone. I hold up the phone and smile. He starts getting offended, “How could you…” I run past him before he can finish. I’m in my seat again. If looks could kill, My fellow travelers would’ve killed me a long time ago.

I smile. Life is beautiful.

Time check - We’re 40 minutes late, take the hell off already!

Who says customers don’t command the service provider?!! hahahahahaha

Ode to a Tamatar

“Here I am, lost in the ashes of time, but who wants tomorrow?
In between the longing to hold you again
I’m caught in your shadow, I’m losing control
My mind drifts away, we only have today

Touch me and I will follow in your afterglow
Heal me from all this sorrow
As I let you go I will find my way
I will sacrifice ’til the blinding day when I see your eyes
Now I’m living in your afterglow”

“Wow! Your ring’s as big as my eye, see!” The ring gets held up to the eye. It is indeed bigger. I smile. Random connection. Happy days again, methinks.

There it starts, lunches at Sweet Obsession. Why? “Because I don’t eat alone. Never have.” Fair enough. Simple.

“Good morning hug. :-) Missed you hug. 6.30pm hug. :-)” It starts.

“This is going to be a long one - hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug hug.” Jadoo ki japphi.

“Nothing much, just wanted to give you a big hug and a big kiss. Then a bigger hug and a bigger kiss. Then an even bigger hug and an even bigger kiss. Then four big hugs and kisses. Hope I’m not disturbing your meeting with the DDA Director of Sports.” errrrrrrrr

“Baby I’m a roasted tomato right now. It’s too fucking hot. I want swimming pool with — in it. Otherwise I’m going to die.” awwww… Therefore the name.

“It’s simple. If I ever see you putting your arm around —– again, I’ll fucking Paste your ass” With such a straight face, as though discussing the weather. The cigarette almost an extension of the right hand. TGiF.

“Please please little me in little skirt. And really want to see you. Please for me.” That’s a tough one.. I guess not. At all. Dammit! TGiF again!

She says, “Hello, you fool, I Love You”

And the joyride stops right after.

Uncertainity takes over.

No going back.

This is where it ends. Again.

“When everything’s meant to be broken, I just want you to know who I am..”