Zero balance

I'm teetering on the verge of bankruptcy. Not the fiscal kind but the mental one. For I have no more memories to fall back on. The kind that gets you through a hard day in the office. The kind that Wordsworth talks about in 'Tintern Abbey'.

I quote him here.

"These beauteous forms,
Through a long absence, have not been to me
As is a landscape to a blind man's eye:
But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet."

I'm talking of memories of the crisp sound of pine needles under your feet as you tread over them on a path in Naukuchiatal. Of a hot cup of tea and 'Phan' to warm your soul on a wet and cold ride to Manali. Of watching the sun set from a hill, just off Gokarna, with dragonflies to keep you company. Of taking a turn in Wayanad and stopping to silently watch a herd of elephants cross, not 50 meters away from you.

I'm tethered to an office now. And running dangerously low on memories.

Collected one today. A far cry from the ones harvested earlier.

It was one of standing under an awning on Infantry road at 7 in the evening, in the rains, smoking a fresh bowl of Borkum Riff, White.

Maybe it can't compare to my earlier ones. And maybe I'm clutching at straws here. But they are, after all, a drowning man's only hope.

Killer toys

Came across this article that celebrates the 10 most dangerous toys ever marketed. Those treasured playthings that drew blood, chewed digits, took out eyes and caused a spurt in child cosmetic surgery.

I'd love to have got my hands on the 'Jart'. Wait! I had something way more cool than that. A bayonet that was taken from a dead Chinese by my uncle during the Indo-China war. I used to play with it in the backyard. (Without my parents' knowledge, of course)

And then there was the tribal bow and arrow that Someone had brought back from Manipur. Managed to kill a squirrel with it. And the misfired .303 rounds I found at the shooting range. Or the used syringes from a neighbour's insulin shots. Come to think of it, most of my playthings promised death, or in the least, permanent disability or dismemberment.

Maybe that's why I grew up tough. Click on the link to read.

http://www.radarmagazine.com/features/2006/12/toys.php

Gas

I have Gas. Not what the Americans mean by the word, but what the other 90% of the world means by it. And yes, it's strong enough to clear the room with one whiff. No! it's not the intestinal kind.

I'm talking about the industrial kind. The kind that comes in a red coloured cylinder with the words INDANE stenciled across it. The kind that, thanks to the Indian government, you have to pay double the price to get one. Because I got it illegally.

Why? Because a legal cylinder has to be applied for. And it costs 1700 to apply for it. And you get a stove and regulator free along with it. Regardless of the fact that you already own one. So you have to pay 1700 no matter what. Whether you already bought a cooking range that cost you 20k. Whether you already have an empty cylinder and just want a filled one.

And the worst thing is, you're paying double the price for the 'black' cylinder and you even have to stand in line and wait your turn. Then get turned away and stand in line again and plead with the man. Get rejected again and then stand in line and offer more money. Then stand in line and... you get the picture. Basically do it over and over until the guy dismisses you with a wave and tells you to wait till he's free.

Which takes a couple of hours anyway. Finally he saunters over to you and demands double the price. 600 bucks. And you eagerly shovel it out to him.

He tells you to go home and wait for him at 1 in the afternoon and ask you to watch out for 4 long knocks and three short ones on your front door, or some other secret sign like that.

So you wait till 4. At which point your boss is livid, until you tell him you were waiting for the gas to be delivered. There is a pregnant pause over the telephone line. And then you hear him sigh too. "Ok! I understand." Do come in early tomorrow. The campaign is due by afternoon. And I'm sorry I'll have to deduct this day's salary."

But I don't care. I got gas, you see!