Thank God it's Friday

Aaah! the joys of travel. This weekend ended up being one of the most fullfiling ever. Funny I only noticed it when I sat down to write this blog. Maybe that's cos I'm still a part of it, though I'm back in office on a Monday morning. Hope it lasts.

I don't believe in Monday morning blues. Mondays can whizz past reminiscing about all the fun you had the previous day. A similar feeling can get you through tuesdays too. But come Wednesday, and you're bang in the middle of the week. Two days since your last fun binge and two days away from a fresh one. Life seems at it lowest on a wednesday morning.

But coming back to the weekend, I was off to Chennai. A last minute decision on friday evening found me running from pillar to post, looking for any means of getting me from Bangalore to Chennai, a distance of 360 Kilometers, as the crow flies.

YessBee travels came to my aid in the last minute. "Ess Saar" said the voice over the phone in a pronounced Malayalee accent. "Ve hawe jest one ticket left in the bus. Please come to Madivala by 10:30"

Madivala? That's beyond the back of beyond. It's one of those places you hear of, but never venture to. Like those vague horrible diseases you read about in the papers, but have never met anyone suffering from. Angiofollicular Lymphoid Hyperplasia, Lymphohistiocytosis, Hemophagocytic, Ramsay Hunt Auricular Syndrome. There are thousands more where that came from. A list of unending disorders and condition ranging from the unpronounceable to the unmentionable. Madivala's like that. Everyone can tell you where it is. But few have ventured there.

Anyway, since there was no time to dilly dally, I pack my backpack and look for an autorickshaw that will take me to Madivala.

You haven't felt rejection until you’ve been rejected by a Bangalore rickshaw driver. Nothing prepares you for the absolute rejection that he’s about to mete out to you.

Women might give you a reason for rejecting you, people at interviews may hem and haw but come up with an excuse, friends may try and put it to you gently. And thought you’ve been through “But we can be friends”, “Sorry but we think you’re overqualified for the job”, “Sorry dude, I’ve got to take my girlfriend to the movie” and “No! you may not borrow my car.”, nothing prepares you for the Bangalore rickshaw wallah.

You stand on the road and motion for a rickshaw to stop. One veers out of the traffic at the last moment, nearly missing the cyclist who now swears at him. He pulls over, next to you and cocks his head in your direction, all the while never once looking you in the eye.

You step up and say “Madiwala?” Suddenly the gear is engaged and the throttle pulled and the rickshaw peels off and joins the traffic, while you are left standing there wondering if you said something wrong. You’ve just been rejected. And that’s just the beginning. You invariably have to go through half a dozen of them before you finally find one who’s willing to take you. By that time, you are humbled. You meekly climb into the rickshaw, licking your emotional wounds and scheme at how to get back at him. Should you not tip him at all. Naw! Too cheap. How about overtipping him. That may make him a little less harder on the next unsuspecting traveler. So for the sake of mankind, you dig deep into your pocket and generously tip him. As you walk away, you turn back to see the look of surprise on his face. You expect him to look at you the way the children of Israel looked to Moses as he parted the Red Sea.

But you’re rejected again. He just pockets the change and drives off. The rejection is now complete.

Now that I have reached Madivala, I think I can rest easy. 'Have no fear YessBee is here!' I settle down with my ticket and wait for my iron steed to arrive. 2 hours later, I’m still waiting.

When finally the bus arrives, I’m told that my ticket was a temporary ticket, and I was supposed to get it confirmed at the booking office. But now it’s 12 a.m. and the office is shut. 200 bucks later, I have in my hands a confirmed ticket.

Completely exhausted, I climb into my bus seat and settle down. I shall be in Chennai at 7 in the morning. I think I life’s shown me all his cards. There are no more surprises left. The game has ended.

Just then life plays his last card. It come in the form of an extremely plump man whose ticket entitles him to sit on the same seat that my ticket entitles me to sit on.

What follows is a melee of sorts. An extremely agitated fat man with a high pitched voice trying to drown out the voice of a thin squat conductor with a voice like he has a couple of frogs mating in his throat.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m on the bus. This time in the cramped seat right in the back. I lean my head on my bag and turn the AC vent towards myself.

It’s going to be a very, very, very long night.

The remains of the day

I just cleaned out my backpack and was amused at what I found there. Here's a list of what all was there:

- Swiss Army knife
- Spare duracell batteries
- Durex Ultras thin condom
- Boarding pass of an Indian Airlines ticket to Chennai
- Receipt of 4 chocolates and a book bought at the airport
- Silica Gel pouch from my camera bag
- A AddGel pen cap
- Some spare change
- A packet of 'Chutki' mouth freshener
- Airline sweets
- A toothpick from the 'Golden Dragon'
- a piece of bark I picked up at 'Naukuchiatal'
- Pebbles from Manali

Wonder what that says about me and my travels?

Gone to Oktober....

I'm going to Ammmmmmsssssssttttttteeeeeerrrrrrr DAMN. Damn that feels good. First it's Frankfurt, then the Hague and then AAAAmmmmsssttteeerrrr DAMMMMMMNN. Pity I couldn't leave earlier. I would have loved to be in Germany during the Oktoberfest. But guess you should count your blessing and not ask for too much.

Nordic and slavic blond chicks, lots of good beer, hash bars, great nightlife. Could a man ask for more. I'm in seventh heaven already. I hope my visa works out thought. The fact that I'm Indian and single doesn't help much. But there's no harm in trying anyway.

Please wish me all the luck. God knows I need every bit.

A tale of three tales

I just noticed that reading three short stories at one stretch tires me more than reading half a novel. I think it has something to do with the range of emotions you traverse across in three short stories. How else would you explain the feeling of fatigue after reading 3 stories consisting of 12-15 pages each, while I have sometimes read as many as a 100 pages of a novel without feeling a thing.

I was reading a book of short stories by Jack London.Three stories down, I was emotionally exhausted. I had gone from happiness to excitement, to dejection, to elation all within the 12 pages of one story. Three stories later, I lay spent. It was almost as if I lived the life of the characters I had read about.

What else could it be. I consider myself pretty emotionally strong. I have weathered storms that would make a lesser man shrivel up and die. Physical abuse, mental torment, battery and assault. Peer pressure, I've sailed through all of them and emerged unscathed. But three short stories have humbled me.

Is another's burden heavier than one's own. Or is the time factor to be blamed.

While reading a short story, in 15 minutes, you relive all the emotions that the character did in a month. So the effect on you is more profound.

Is that it? Are short stories a more powerful medium than 600 page epic novels?

The Agency song

The deadline cometh, and I'm not yet done.
It's going to be curtains, for everyone.

I can feel butterflies, in my pit.
The shit'll hit the fan, and I'll be rolling in it.

The Art guy casts, a longing glance,
Hoping that there might, still be a chance.

That I shall, the campaign crack.
And get servicing, off his back.

But his prayers, have been in vain.
And I'm beginning, to feel the strain.

My nerves are shot, my brain's turned to jelly
And there's a funny feeling, in my belly.

My sphincter seems, to have lost control.
And my stomach's doing, a triple jump roll.

My doom it seems, is imminent.
My star is definitely in descent.

But just when you think, disaster is nigh.
There appears a light, in the sky.

Coeus, it seems, has heard my prayer.
And delivered me, from my despair.

The deadline now, has come to pass.
And I have just barely saved my arse.

But a new deadline shall come again,
And I shall write yet another refrain.

About the nature of the job I’ve come to love,
And the divine intervention from up above.

And the hundred deaths I die each day,
Just to sell come ‘Frito Lays.’

Gin soaked boy

I'm the darkness in the light
I'm the leftness in the right
I'm the rightness in the wrong
I'm the shortness in the long
I'm the goodness in the bad
I'm the saneness in the mad
I'm the sadness in the joy
I'm the gin in the gin-soaked boy

I'm the ghost in the machine
I'm the genius in the gene
I'm the beauty in the beast
I'm the sunset in the east
I'm the ruby in the dust
I'm the trust in the mistrust
I'm the trojan horse in troy
I'm the gin in the gin-soaked boy

I'm the tiger's empty cage
I'm the mystery's final page
I'm the stranger's lonely glance
I'm the hero's only chance
I'm the undiscovered land
I'm the single grain of sand
I'm the christmas morning toy
I'm the gin in the gin-soaked boy

I'm the world you'll never see
I'm the slave you'll never free
I'm the truth you'll never know
I'm the place you'll never go
I'm the sound you'll never hear
I'm the course you'll never steer
I'm the will you'll not destroy
I'm the gin in the gin-soaked boy

I'm the half-truth in the lie
I'm the why not in the why
I'm the last roll of the die
I'm the old school in the tie
I'm the spirit in the sky
I'm the catcher in the rye
I'm the twinkle in her eye
I'm the jeff goldblum in "the fly"

Who am i?

The Lowe song

Found an old poem I wrote, back when I was a trainee copywriter with Lowe Lintas, Delhi. Back when I was paid peanuts and worked like a donkey. I captured my helplessness in this poem one night while chasing a deadline at 5 in the morning after 4 days of constant work. I then went and made numerous copies and pasted it on everybody's tables as an act of retribution. It worked, and I finally got 2 days off. Finding it after 5 years, this feeling of nostalgia washes over me. I wanted to share it with whoever's interested.

The Lowe Lintas Song (The company name has now changed to Lowe)

Abide with me Lowe, comes the big deadline.
Client Servicing threatens, Lowe with me abide.

Media planning fucks up, and all the CDs flee.
Help of the helpless Oh! Abide with me

I need thy presence, every passing hour.
what but thy grace can foil the clients power.

Who like thyself my guide and stay can be,
through brief and deadline, Oh abide with me.

I fear no foe with thee at hands to bless,
BILT has no weight, eGurucool no bittterness,

Where Parker's sting where Nestle's Fruit-tips three.
Help of the hopeless, Oh! Abide with me.

'Men at work' rocks.

Who can it be knocking at my door?
Go 'way, don't come 'round here no more.
Can't you see that it's late at night?
I'm very tired, and I'm not feeling right.

All I wish is to be alone;
Stay away, don't you invade my home.
Best off if you hang outside,
Don't come in - I'll only run and hide.

Who can it be knocking at my door?
Make no sound, tip-toe across the floor.
If he hears, he'll knock all day,
I'll be trapped, and here I'll have to stay.

I've done no harm, I keep to myself;
There's nothing wrong with my state of mental health.
I like it here with my childhood friend;
Here they come, those feelings again!