The MCP's Confessions

     The MCP returns - your very dear Macho Charismatic Playboy is back! Yeah, yeah I know.... you have read my story before and you very well know this is not what MCP means; the beans was spilled by my dear wife and all this hungama is just going to make you laugh even harder. So no more of all that non-sense, I am going to be plain and simple, and this time around I am going to do justice to my story. New year might be all about resolutions and promises for most of you out there, but I am going to celebrate it with confessions. Let me tell you the story of how this bratty hooligan of a guy, the pompous, haughty, annoying Bloody Blundaleomite, who didn't have the last trace of self-respect within him, came to his senses. How this sexist "creature" transformed into the model husband - a description that Priya, my wife, will vouch for. Read and Enjoy.

     I had the epiphany during my last year at college. Things weren't going so well for me, Blanket girl and pizza girl had messed it up Big Time and now I had become the official "Gay dude" of the college. Let me make the extent of the gossip more clear to you - my friends stopped talking to me, girls pass crude comments at me and I used to receive love letters on a daily basis... none of them seemed to have a girl's hand-writing. The declaration was official and life had become hell. The funny part of the story is that I realize the intensity of all this, the magnitude of the tragedy of the situation, only now. 9 years after college and 4 years into marital life, only now have I understood what a fool I had made out of myself during those days. I was obviously too full of myself and oblivious to everything going on around me... until....
     Until that unforgettable... wait, what is a better word for unforgettable? It was not just unforgettable, it was... wait, let me just Google it up, a better word for unforgettable... Indelible! Fair enough. I didn't have the aforementioned epiphany until that indelible day. The week after S7 exams - Tiruchendur Temple Visit.
     Such a beautiful place to be when the day is young. The sun bobs on the surface of the Bay of Bengal and slowly floats up towards the sky turning the heaven above into the magnificent blue that you can never stop looking at. The clouds decorating your roof with impeccable designs, something no sculpture ever dared to re-create, one of those sights which makes you truly believe in God. Not just the sky, everything in and around the temple makes one believe in God. This little incident did a remarkable job at that.
     We had finished circumnavigating the temple, 3 friends and me, collecting blessings from every deity in the stone carved wonder and every priest with vibhoothi in his hand. Well, I guess Vibhoothi is the most tangible form of the blessings you receive from the lord. And we did make sure the blessings were genuine, no piracy in all these matters you see - we dropped a coin anywhere and everywhere possible! And as I was saying, we prayed inside and came out to wet our feet in the beach that adjoins the temple (which was not a very smart strategy because now our feet were wet and the mud was sticky and our floaters became dirty. Thank god my feet didn't itch after that!)
     Yes, and we are right outside the temple, wearing our dirty floaters and wondering whom to ask where Mani Iyer's hotel is? (Apparently the hotel is the reason some people visit the place, than the temple) The four of us, staring aimlessly in four different directions (we were utterly jobless after exams right?) made an easy prey for the con.... no accusation here, she may have been genuine, she may have been a trickster, let your faith save you, I am going to call her what she calls herself - A Fortune Teller.
     "Show me your hand child. Let me tell you your future." Now if you have been in Chennai, you will have most certainly acquired a much needed skill - How to ignore. Woman lying on the street with a naked child, man with no fingers, boy with scars all over, no matter what it is, all of them reaching out for you... yeah, sometimes it tears your heart apart, but eventually you learn to focus on the more important things in life - "Did Hansika break-up with Simbu?", "What does Modi think about Obama's healthcare policy?", and all that. And obviously my friends turned their head away, no amount of pleas or "Such a bright face you have child, you are one of a kind. Let me see your hand and tell you more", could dissuade them. Now, don't judge me, I have no idea what went through me, I showed her my hands. And she could see it in my face, a dash of insecurity (back then and even now let me tell you, I have no idea whether it was actual insecurity or curiosity masked as insecurity or the sun was just too bright... whatever)
     "You are tense my boy? Very tense. So much sorrow, so much pain and anguish in your heart. Yes, lots of pain in the heart. Your heart is in pain. Very dear pain!" And everything that happened during the past couple of years flashed before my eyes. Memories raced through my head, of trying to harass girls, of the contempt I had for them, and how they had struck back. Scenes of all the agony and pain that had been inflicted upon me at college, at the insensitivity of my classmates, of the remarks and comments passed at me, of how I had been reduced into insignificance... heyy, don't roll your eyes at me, the fortune teller was really convincing... "Take this little twig and rub it all over your body", and she handed me a little twig which she pulled out of her bag (which made a very convincing prop for a fortune teller), and I obeyed her. No, no, no, I was not under her spell or anything, she had pissed me off already.... I just wanted be very courteous to the person who was trying to make a baffoon out of me. "Not, like that, rub it very well. All over your body. Your legs too... yes, like that! Now spit on it and throw it away." I got rid of it.
     "How much would that be?"
     "500" BLOODY BLUNDALEOMITE! 500 Rs. for palmistry? She seemed to read my mind and quickly responded, "100 for the palmistry and 400 for the twig." Another funny twist. I didn't have any money on me. LOL at the look on my friend's face who had to pay on my behalf. At that moment I realised that the pain in my heart would very soon spread throughout my body. My friend was a strong guy.
   
     That is the story of how a fortune teller looted my off 500 Rs. and my honour. But on a more serious note, her voice did do something to me. The scenes that flashed before my eyes, the memories I had recollected at that moment; they touched me deeply. Those memories grew into thoughts - thoughts of what I had put others through, of what I had done in school, in college, of all the girls that have been around me, and the irony of how eventually a woman came around to make me spit at myself (you see, I was holding the twig in my hand, and I had to spit at the twig, so...) Little things can change the world. It's a laughable story, a hysterical one, but it did change my world. Two years later I went to the same temple, met the same woman. I had grown up, my face was more confident, energetic and wore a rather decent smile, with no traces of guilt in or around me. "You will get the woman of your dreams my child!" She said and charged me 50 Rs. And let me tell you, that came true.

Wish you all a Happy New Year!

Love

P.S. Here's the link to the prequel for this story - The MCP's Love Affairs http://positiveram.blogspot.in/2013/03/the-mcps-love-affair.html
Read and Enjoy
     

Alone in the Dark

I am afraid of the dark. There, I have said it, shamelessly. But add that this particular fear of mine is normally not something I would say in the first line of the first paragraph of my story. I am a CA student, I am a daughter, a sister, a friend, a patriot, a feminist and many more things that I am proud of, that I wear like a badge and flaunt like a star. And let me also tell you that this particular fear is not something that has escalated to a phobia. Maybe it's because of the precautionary measures I have taken - like the use of a night bulb, carrying a mobile torch with me all the time, persuading my dad to by an automatic inverter battery which gives back up the second power goes off and to top it off a well crafted inward-outward strategy. That is, my movement in and out of each room in the house will be such that either it will be broad daylight, or I will have company or there will be someone in the room already. In short, most of the time I am not even aware of such a fear. But I shouldn't have taken my brain for granted. Nope, not at all, because the human brain thinks for itself too. Even if I don't know it, the fear exists. And it is bound to surface... Eventually!

I love the night. Ironical as it may sound, the night has so many things that make me excited - like the air-conditioner which is invariably set at 17 degree celsius, the beautiful 8 hour sleep (which even my CA life was not able to shorten by even a second) under my very precious blanket which is silky on the downside and furry on the up (took me 3 whole days to select it) and the sight of the moon from my bed. On full moon nights I turn off the night bulb to enjoy the full moon, it soothes me, dispels my fears and, let me poetically add, that the moonlight is a cold blanket for me. Irresistable!

*SLAP* that was me slapping against my own cheek. Why did I do that? I don't remember. But now my cheek is itching. As I touch my cheek I also realise that I am sweating! My whole body is sweating. "Sweat at 17 degree celsius? Am I crazy?" As the heat builds up under my blanket I slowly wake up to my senses, "The AC is switched off, Must be a power-cut and the inverter must have died". My assessment continues, "Wonder what mom and dad are doing? Have the mosquitoes teamed up with the sweat glands to wake them up too. Let me have a look." I open my eyes and suddenly the heart beat doubles and triples, the lap-dap becomes thud-thud. No nightlight, no moonlight - absolute darkness. I hold my breath and stare into space - Frozen.

As darkness engulfs me, adrenaline is pumped into my blood, I writhe under my blanket, but its simply too hard to make an actual movement. My eyes are wide open, I don't whether it was trying to find some trace of light in space or the fear took over all my muscles, it was difficult to control myself. "Light, light, where is the light", the obvious took too long to strike me, "Mobile torch-light!" I stretched my arms outside the blanket and ran my fingers over the table next to my bed, where I normally keep my cell phone. 

Now, it is very much possible that I may have knocked something over, it might be possible that I was so tensed at that moment that I pushed everything out of the table or... I don't know. But in that darkness which consumed me every second, as my heart-beat grew faster after every pulse, as my eyes nearly popped out thirsty for some light I heard a deafening bang - as if every item of kitchen crockery had fallen on the ground in my room. And the noise didn't stop; it pierced through my ears, echoing again and again and again.

I tightly tucked myself under the blanket, braving the heat and the sweat, hugging my knees and my eyes firmly shut. The noise was still in my ears, my entire body was shivering in fright, I couldn't think, it was as if my brain was switched off. I struggled to find air, my lungs refused to take in any oxygen and there was nothing I could do, absolutely nothing. 

The clanging voice finally stopped, only to get replaced by an even more deafening silence. And the absolute stillness seemed to take physical form. It was touching me, its hand reached for my shoulder and pulled me above. I tucked myself even harder under the blanket and hugged the pillow as tightly as possible. But it wasn't helping, the darkness somehow seeped into the blanket and began to taunt me. I was being bullied, tortured, horrified. The invisible presence hovering above my head fed my diabolic imagination, my brain presumed the invisibilty to acquire dangerous forms and I was thoroughly convinced of an impending disaster. Logic was washed away, I was under the spell of my fear - Frozen.

 

In the final moment, much like the dramatic climax of any thriller movie, as the darkness was about to take me away, the rescuer roared into life in the form of my air-conditioner along with its loyal side-kick, the night-bulb. Brightness was restored, sight had comeback and silence was thwarted away! Like a real super-hero, electricity had shooed away the villains and restored peace. But I didn't have much time to look into the poetic or romantic aspect of that rescue, because the minute my room returned to 17 degree celsius, I had slipped into the avalanche of DEEP SLEEP.

Love

It's Cool!

It's the end of the year again, the month of Christmas, the month of introspection and a cooool month. And I know when it gets cold (trust me), I have been in Riyadh, the city where summer touches 50 and winter drops down to 5 degree celsius, without any warning at all. I remember the time when the swimming pool, that happened to be the play place for 6 months straight - a two hour bath everyday, gets sickeningly cold during the last week of September, left unattended, unclean for a while and is finally drained out in the first week of October. I remember walking into the school to find everyone in navy blue jackets, vapour puffing out of their mouths as they exhale, and find the entire landscape painted grey. The tarred football ground under the grey sky, children covered in sweaters and ear muffins (or whatever you call them) and gloves and 3 layers of socks, Air-conditioners turned up to maximum heat and on a positive note, no stench of sweat, no complaints about the blazing sun or the scorching desert heat - It is a month with a lot of nostalgia, December indeed. And truly - winter rocks! The shivers of Chennai however, came to me as a surprise.

As I wake up everyday at 5 in the morning and let the shower water pour on me, as I step out of my house before even the has set out, as I sit under the cruel air-conditioners of my classroom, as I look at the puddles of water that the Chennai roads are blessed with..... the shivers are not just a collection of nostalgic moments or an escape from a hateful summer. Winter, just as poetic as it sounds, portrays its different forms to me these days. And I don't know whether it's me being too romantic, or whether it simply is that way, but I perceive these forms as different stories.

Until 3 weeks back I used to sleep at 11 pm at night and have never woken up before the clock struck 9. And then all of a sudden my C.A. classes begin and I have to wake up at 5! The half an hour journey is preceded by a cold bath and includes a 15 minute walk on an empty stomach, and not to mention the mental workout that happens at classes. And all through this transaction, what gives me company is the goosebumps on my skin. The coldness tells the story of a challenge in the morning, one that I surpass (except on two occasions where I slept in), with a lot of pride and a sense of achievement. As the wind blows against my face I can hear a buzz in my ear - Go back, get some rest, have a nice sleep. The fan over my head pushes me down every morning, the alarm clock fades off in the backdrop and winter gifts me a beautiful sleep (sometimes I hear the voice of rain splashing against the window... nobody can wake up from such moments!) My story is a cakewalk, but there are those who have to travel thrice as long, bathe in water twice as cold and surpass a hundred times as many puddles as I had to in the morning. And behind all that there is a nasty winter villain, the diabolical mastermind. Can you beat it?

I walked down the subway, folding my umbrella for the moment, enjoying the dryness inside. I looked outside to see the entire pavement drenched, the roads almost flooding and finally turned around and stepped down, where another voice caught my attention. It was a monotonous wail, the voice of a little child, and the child was saying something, again and again and again. Bravely (because I had watched conjuring only a few weeks previously) I reached the foot of the staircase and saw in the middle of the subway a woman sitting on the floor with a naked child on her lap. And the skinny child, she wasn't crying or screaming, she was just saying the same thing over and over again. Just one word that I couldn't comprehend, one word that I don't remember, but I will never forget the voice, that tone. Can you beat that? I walked away from the scene without batting a eyelid, without sparing a coin, drenched in guilt and disgust. The cold that was a challenger, or more like a motivator and an inspirer to some had taken the brutal shape of a killer to someone else. Devoid of food, clothing or shelter, they sat inside the subway for god knows how long. I spare a tear for thousands of others who suffer such a fate, I spend a minute in prayer, hoping that nobody will have to wail like that in the future.

It's the middle of the night and even facebook seems to have slept off, the number of green dots is almost zero (almost). The fan is spinning over my head, which itself is spinning owing to the sleep deprived, mentally exhausted situation I am in. But some blogs cannot be left unwritten, somethings cannot be left incomplete, and the romantic tale of winter is one such story.

The coldness has always brought people together, sometimes physically and if not, mentally. The coldness has brought hearts together, new friendships forged, old ones tightened and the warmth is shared as widely as possible. And sometimes this coldness itself sets off the spark in a friendship, the spark that ignites a blazing fire. This is not fantasy land, this is not hogwarts; this is a story that is happening around us and even within us. The winter bears witness as so many of us slip on the ice and fall in love. Don't be shy now, that fall is just another reason to celebrate.

Love

The Best Revenge

Varun

"Saar... kass kudunga saar!!!" Just as my feet reached the pavement without losing the rest of my body (well, you know how the buses are in Chennai, and you very well know that you have to say your prayers of gratitude if u have managed to get off the bus in one piece) just as I turned around to take in the view of my majestic Marina, I heard that! Four huge hermaphrodites cornered my like a mouse, swaying their hips in tune with their outstretched arms and begging for alms (hey, I almost rhymed there), they, whom I sympathize with 'theoretically' for all their sufferings and tragedies, those outcastes upon whom the world cast its worst curse (pun, repetition and alliteration - I am on a poetic fire!) - but when it comes to facing them in the real world and meeting their horrific demands, I am a merciless coward. Doing justice to the aforementioned adjective of myself, I fled the scene in a flash.

Lata

Finally he gathered the courage to ask me out. We have hung out, probably a million times, but that was just in and around our very own school compound (Woah! I rhymed too). Embarassed by so many accusing eyes, tired of telling them, "Go fuck yourselves and just let us be!", we had to share love amidst chaos. But now finally, my boyfriend got his driving license and he is taking me on our first date to the majestic Marina beach. My hero, in his hero (pun burn!) drifts past cars and rickshaws and scooters and other bikes, and me, ignorant of all that, lean on his back and cherish the wind.

Varun

These days, any monkey with a DSLR is a photographer and I am a nasty monkey king (they don't have a poetic device for that but I matched the last syllable for those two words there. Kind of like, backward alliteration). Almost half the group was already wetting its feet and I marked my entry by almost drowning one of the petite girls of the group. And then the always enjoyable routine of beach time fun began - we splashed water at each other, sank our feet in the mud, captured a hundred photos, some of our own group and some of the festivities at the beautiful Marina, again tried to push the girls into the water and ran for our lives when they threw their tantrums and, obviously, looked around for pretty girls too. Soon Aswathi joined me in the exercise and we started rating them. 

"That one's gorgeous", said Ash and I responded with, "She looks like a stick wearing a dress" and also added, "wonder why you girls are so obsessed with size zero? It's pathetic"

"I am not obsessed with size zero, it's just that you boys never look at a girl's face." I couldn't rebut that. Who can?

I asked the others to come over to Marina sandwich and when they declined, I decided to continue with Aswathi. And the hunt for "the prettiest of them all" ended with a mini-heart-attack. My eyes fell on Lata, holding hands with another boy.

Lata

Usually I give him lessons on romance, whenever we hang out. But for our first date he was like a prince. And he walked me to the beach like a princess, putting his right arm around my shoulder and holding me tight, gripping my left arm with his left, incessantly talking to me about this or that and whenever he stopped, he looked at me and smiled. It was a good thing he was holding me, otherwise I would have fallen unconscious in his eyes.

Amit was just a couple of inches taller than me and I wouldn't rate him as the most muscular among boys. When I first met him, he would barely talk and even when we started talking he was shy for words. He would blush whenever I walked across him and stutter whenever he talked to me - and I fell for all of that. We talked for hours and hours ever since and today as he grips me firmly, I feel proud! It is not as if I have changed him into someone I like him to be. But he has grown up to become someone I love him to be. We reached the beach and as I raised my face to look at him... Arghhh!!! everything was supposed to be romantically perfect! That was supposed to be our first kiss, but alas! my eyes fell on Varun - my ex-boyfriend, walking towards me.

Varun

We were madly in love. I still am in love! How could she run away from a relationship that lasted... Flourished! For three brilliant months, as if three awesome springs! How we met, how we talked, how we fell in love, all that is a cliche. But how we broke-up was legendary. College got over and we never saw each other, ever again. That was unbelievable on so many counts - no facebook message, no text message, no phone-call, not even a missed call, as if we lived in the 15th century. A little of it was my fault too, I let my ego get the better of me decided to wait for her call. And till now she hasn't.

Well, nothing to complain about, with a heavy heart and teary eyes, I accept that she has found another man, or another boy who is barely half my height and would suit Aswathi's idea of beauty - skin and bones! But the urge that has always attracted me towards her, persists to do so even today. No, I cannot ignore her, we have to end this properly. I need a goodbye from her. A decent break-up. And a reason, why she ran away.

Lata

"Hey, Lata! Been a really long time, huh? How are you?" He asked me wearing an idiotic smile. He was sweating and visibly nervous and I was expressionlessly shocked. A number of emotions gurgled within me and culminated into anger. Anger at the person who ignored me for so long, anger at the person who put ego above his love, anger at the person who refused to forgive and forget and ultimately, at the person who ruined my heavenly moments. And at that instant, I gave him the worst punishment I could come with, "Sorry, I don't think we have met before." I said with half a smile. Amit had turned around to look at my ex and he too was now smiling. Varun stood frozen for a second and withdrew without saying a word. "Strange, he knew your name too", said Amit. But he didn't press the matter any further, so sweet of him. I fell back into his arms.

Varun

She ditched me, she ignored me, she chose another guy; all that is forgivable, for we are all humans after all. But to look into my eyes, the man she loved, the man who loved her with every cell of his heart, and blurt such an atrocious lie.... with a straight face? And a stupid smile? Inhuman! Unforgivable! God, wish I could drown her in this water. For what? Only the sea would get polluted! Look at her snugging her all new BF. That son of a Blundaleomite. Ughh... now I can't sleep unless I pour hell on those love birds. And so shall I do, upon the couple I shall cast, the best revenge atlast - Idea!

My eyes darted towards the bus stop only to find what I was looking for. Ignoring Aswathy's "Hey, where are you going?" I blasted to the bus stop at the same speed with which I had run to the beach, approached the four hermaphrodites who had scared me off and offered them two notes of hundred rupees. "Make sure those two don't touch each other. As a matter of fact, make sure they don't even see each other The Whole Day!" My gundas happily took up the job and I gave the world a diabolic HAKUNA MATATA smile. 

I rejoined my friends and continued rating women with Aswathi. And through one corner of my eyes I enjoyed the fun (The new boyfriend nearly pissed in his pants when he saw my missiles and ran for his life. Two of my gundas chased him and the other two cornered Chandrika incarnate - and to those who don't know who Chandrika is, she is a character in a romantic poem who is famous for ditching her boyfriend. When they got paid by the couple, they left the scene for a couple of minutes and again rebounded. The games continued till our group left the beach. And I dedicate this revenge story to every guy, well, why be so sexist, to every person who ever got ditched. Don't roll your eyes, I haven't been ditched... not just yet)

Love

The Best Girlfriend

"You are the bro type! I would be surprised if your wife doesn't bro-zone you!!!"
Words of my favourite sister a couple of days before Raksha Bandhan
Never understood if it was a gift or a curse?
So identical they seem at times - Compliment and insult
(Especially when the point of reference is the Chalu King)

Never an insult for me. Especially 'cuz it came from a sis!
Why do I love them so much?
They give me love support and care and blah, blah, blah....
That's never the reason. But there is a reason

Even after 30 blog posts, only these sisters ask, "When's the next one?"
Or maybe, "I was expecting one yesterday!" (Perverted eyes - Turn away!)
Invariably - they are the first ones to read these... (May God Save Them)
So intense a read, they even ask doubts!

So much pride when I am asked to write the intro for a souvenir
(Even though that sister managed to put my name out of the "print area")
Or when I am called for to present the Legendary "Corporate Kadhaprasangam"
(Even though that never happened)
Or when she sings me the entire "Happy Birthday" song over phone...

Marvellous people, who never agree with me - Ever!
You promised to call, but then atleast you sent an sms
You promised to come with me for a movie,
Atleast you never broke the promise (just postponed it.... for a loooong time)
And your hunt to find me a date - So Adorable

The card she made me (not the e-card... but yeah, that was touching too)
An entire page with Birthday Wishes, each word in a different colour
Seriously, not even in my wildest nightmares will I put so much effort.
When you ask me over and over again, not to go back
When you shed tears as I leave...

Amazing angels - colleagues and classmates
Here - to you - to The Best Girlfriend, I give this gift
The call me Buji, they call me Chalu,
But when you tie a Rakhi - That's when I feel most proud

With lots of love
A promise to protect and care
And to Love forever
Yours only

Ramon Dharma Rajan
Love

One Day - No longer a myth

The best way to start this article would be with reference to "Ingnited Minds" by the great Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam. He talks about the nation having a goal, and a 100 years back when we had the strive for independence in every breath of life, that was indeed a golden era. The era that witnessed Mahatma Gandhi, CV Raman, Rabindranath Tagore, Subhash Chandra Bose, Jawaharlal Nehru, BR Ambedkar, JRD Tata, Bhagat Singh and so many more from different walks of life, ambition in their eyes, wisdom in their mind and dedication in their hearts; dedication for the cause they stood for, for the glory and honour of their nation and an unflinching yearn for unmatched perfection that always caught the eye of the world. A 100 years back we had a goal, a goal that was satisfied 67 years back. And now we are aimless.

Little wonder that post independence India has produced so fewer names that match the likes of Tagore or Gandhi. Tendulkar, Bachan, the Khans and the Kapoors have left their mark on world history, but does that 'mark' even compare to the 'spotlight' the Mahatma left us in? Has any writer's voice surpassed the echo of Tagore's music? Dr. Kalam stated the ultimate fact by saying that "what plagued the nation is a lack of ambition" (I am not quoting his words but only reproducing his message). He is right, we are on survival mode now. Get rid of poverty (definition of which is so sadistic), have a literate population (not educated. Just literate!), clean up the bureaucracy and to hell with corruption. Such menial goals! And these are goals of the cream layer of the country. This is what the GREAT Leaders of our nation want. Laymen still stick to a job in US and a happy married life. The Untouchables give shit about dignity!

"We are a billion people! Can't we come up with 11 *** guys to make a team", astonished Russell Peters said in one of his stand ups when talking about how India never made it to the FIFA World Cup. Another article on same page in the internet read, "India, a sleeping giant for Football"! Spot on! Our nation is a sleeping giant. 1.2 Billion idiots who define success as working for school dropouts in a nation that was discovered by someone in search of OUR COUNTRY! A nation that has hypocrisy imbibed in its genes. Yeah, we are against dynasty politics but the position of Prime Ministership is always reserved for the Previous Minister's son. I mean, how many people you know have said, "My ambition is to become the Prime Minister of the Country"?  The Indian middle class has turned into an Engineer (/ Doctor / Chartered Accountant) producing factory!

And this was an article I intended to write 2 years back. 2 years and 8 days to be precise. And after that, I turned 18. Became a citizen, responsible for the faults and flaws of the sub-continent. No more asking questions, no more pointing fingers, no more accusations and complaints. My generation has taken charge now. We run the nation now. Myself being a Chartered Accountant (very soon), is not just a product of the middle class Indian factory, but a solution for the deprived millions! For us corruption is not just Coalgate and 2G, it is also downloading pirated movies, cheating in exams, driving without a licence and all that. We know the difference between education and literacy, we know how to tackle globalisation, how to turn the tide. Communism is not all about banishing technology from our land, but it is the process of empowering the people with technology so that computers in turn generate more employment. Equality is not, "You can't live in luxury, because the rest of the country can't afford it". Now equality is, "You live in luxury? So make sure the rest of the nation does too!"

A new dawn has come, one with a serious task at hand. I am just a voice, speaking for so many others. Generations behind us have spoke of, "One day, when India will become a super-power", thoroughly convinced that "One Day" is a mere figment of imagination! This generation has one thing to say - One Day is no longer a Myth

Love

A Rainy Tale

Rain - Nature's most amazing miracle. One dimensional motion of water, from top to bottom, but it comes around our lives in so many dimensions, almost defining the phase of our life. Think about it: an enemy for toddlers, deny Jack his day of play in the park, with friends and folk under the bright sun in a gay day. A rival for kids - splashing puddles and beating the storm when you forget to take an umbrella (some of us walk naked in the rain even if we have an umbrella!). A friend for teenagers; remember your rocket science maths lessons, the villainous teacher scratching her chalk on the black board - you know how busted you will get for not paying attention. But when equations go over the roof and you in search of solace, you notice water sliding over the slanting roofs of your school and flushing down in front of the classroom; the elegant streamlined flow of water; droplets dangling on the window, as you wait for it to gain mass and drip on your fingers. Rain as a friend who saves you from boring maths classes. And finally - rain, your lover! "Walking in the moonlight, I am thinking of you. Listening to the raindrops I am thinking of you!!!" And then college gets over, you get a job, and this same old rain comes back to ruin your drive to office. The Cycle continues...

Waiting at the bus-stop in the rain - such a sigh of relief when you see your bus coming approaching, "Finally, I can shove my umbrella back in my bag and escape the rain!" Seriously guys, you would have loved to see the expression on my friend's face when he got into the bus and found water leaking on his shirt. RIOT! Tragic traffic to top it off, so a journey that might have taken us 10 minutes on a fine sunny day took us half an hour on this leaky rainy day. As a CA student who skipped college and jumped into work life, I always consider office as college. But looking at the hard time the Goddesses are giving me with their showers from up above, seems I have actually missed a phase of life!

We got off the bus - rain has subsided and we were relived from the leaky ass jammed vehicle. "Do you want me to drop you somewhere?" It was still drizzling and I thought courtesy demanded I offer him a ride in my umbrella. He politely declined and we bid adeu like good friends. "Cya later SUCKER!!!" About turn and march towards my humble home.

Seriously, Chennai is a disaster when it rains. So much of slush and mud and puddles and more slush, all of this amidst the never ending metro rush. And the army of homeless cripples who have found shelter under the bridge and along the pavements - the Govt. is doing nothing to improve infrastructure, forgivable. Leaving these helpless souls to fend for themselves, atrocious! I mean, that is my policy, forget development, forget economy, the least a government has to do is make sure no one stays hungry. The basic right to live is being denied in this nation.

But every time I swear at the Govt, my conscience stings me, "You blame the Govt? What good are you doing for the nation!?" I hate my conscience. Doesn't a man have the right to even blame a stranger. I mean, come on guys, you all know how much relief it gives you, fall in trouble, blame a stranger, end of story -so simple. But O NO! My conscience wouldn't allow me to sin. Not only will it stop me from throwing the blame on the authorities, but it has to point towards the blind cripple laying on the road.... beaten by rain.... ignored by passers by.... "What can I do?" Obviously, when you are given a task, what is the first thing you do? Come up with an excuse the shelve the task (Yes, now you believe that I have an office life don't you?). But O NO! My conscience has to show me a plank of wood lying on the ground, just an arms length away from the beggar. So if I lift it up and have it lean against the wall next to which the beggar lies, I would have given him shelter from the rain. But that means I have to cross the road (you know T.Nagar rush in the evening right!), pick up the plank which is lying on the ground (Pinnacle of hygiene), and God bless me if the plank falls on that man. Well then, *SIGH*, there is no running away from you conscience. I set off on my task.

And success! The wrinkled cripple is saved for the day. I bow down to look at his face, a show of relief would be reward enough for me. As I bend down for a closer look at the "damsel in distress" I had rescued, an SUV drove past, splashing the flood all over the two of us, and before I could turn around to swear at the bloody blundaleomite, I saw the worn out human body crumbling into pieces. Like a castle of sand, the man, piece by piece, flowed away with the water, and as each bit drained out of his body, he started to glow! Hatching from an egg that the body seemed to be, a glow of light popped up in the year. Was it actually silent or was I just too mesmerized by the miracle I was witnessing. The plank fell down and I stood straight, to see this.... thing.... flutter higher up to reach my eye level.

"TINKER BELL", I screamed in my head, and the fairy smiled. Fairy, not pixie; similar to Tinker Bell, but not the same, an Indian version maybe. Actually it looked more similar to the fairy in Tom 'n Jerry, the one who gives Jerry a magic potion that makes him invisible... yeah, that one. A pink frock and a star tipped wand. And a beautiful woman, just as big as Tinker Bell. "Such a nice boy!" It squeaked! I shocked (Too shocked to even notice Grammar). "Here's the least, I can do for you", and the fairy touched my head with the tip of her head and fluttered off towards the pregnant clouds.

"Thank God I found you!" Rain had turned into storm. Horns were blaring around me. My umbrella was held high and under it.... she.... *ME NAME IS POTATO*

I saw her face right next to mine; she brushed her wavy hair, wet and yet beautiful, behind her ear, leaving just two locks of hair dancing in front of her eyes. Her eyes, like peacocks dancing in the rain, like a doe in the grasslands, like a swan in the pond..... Like Sruthi Hasan (Now you get it?). She looked at me and with one upward motion of her eyes, "What happened?"

What happened? To hear your voice, I waited an year! Sitting across the room in the same office, unable to approach you, unable to talk to you. The eternal brain vs heart conflict had denied me the opportunity of being close to you. As my heart had fallen for you on the first day of articleship, but my brain never gave me the strength to come close to you.

And now here you are! Her fingers curled around mine to clutch the umbrella, her body pressed against mine to flee the rain and her eyes on me, it spoke everything. "Thank you", her eyes (accompanied by those stunning full lips) said.

All of a sudden, every curse turned into a blessing. I held her arm to help her through the pits and puddles, the most generous crowd of Chennai squeezed us together, and the rain, it had finally become my lover. I held her by the shoulder and guided her through the crowd. "So, what brings you here?" I finally asked with all my courage, and she gave a detailed, well illustrated, elaborated explanation which totally went over my head. But her voice, listening to that is always melody. And the fact that she is talking to me. ME! Cloud 9 it is baby.

When that lecture got over, I managed to ask her another question. Then another one. And then another one. And she kept speaking, and speaking and speaking. Finally, an awkward silence. The awkward silence. I looked at her face, and maybe its because I was, I saw her blushing. I finally decided to say it. "You look beautiful!" I said it in my mind. Practised again. Carefully modulated the pitch and the tone and was ready to fire. I opened my mouth and BMW stopped right beside us. A Fair and Lovely Gents model (he looked like one!) stepped out of the vehicle and this woman, rushed through the rain to give him a tight hug. He pressed her against himself and opened the door for her. And they both drove off.

Right next me a beggar lay on the road, bathing in the rain, unable to move. I swore at him until my lungs gave out and marched away.

Love

A New Beginning

Night 10:20, just had dinner at a Burgerman stall and walked back home. Thanks to a very decent SUV driver who was courteous enough to splash a puddle on me, I had to wash my feet before opening the laptop, and thus, now the time is 10:39; 81 minutes to midnight. And at midnight, the earth would have completed one more rotation, one more day would have passed. And exactly one month would have elapsed... June 12th, 2013 - The first batch of GMCS 1 at Thiruvananthapuram got over. This is the 4th post in my story, and in the very first post I had mentioned that these 15 days were the climax of a story. I was wrong. These fifteen days were the beginning of a magnificent saga. GMCS 1 was the beginning of a generation that will change the world, an era that make its mark on history, a story that will be retold by every generation to come. What happened at GMCS? A New Beginning.

The very last competition at our course, a Quiz contest. We win it and we would be on top of the table, tied along with 3 other teams. And until the last round, "where the sun kisses the sea" was leading. Until the last round, where the Tour Guide ruined our dreams by screaming out answers from the crowd, and we had to settle for second place by a margin of 5 points. Just 5! And the next day, there was a tie breaker between 3 teams - the high flyers, the proverb guys and the mountain guys; and although Mr. GMCS got confused about his sex, the mountaineers ended up on top. We all cheered, although The Editor might have been the only one who cheered with full spirit, there was no disappointment . For it was battle well fought. We gave it everything for each competition. Not a single game was played half-heartedly and until the last day the fight was on. 8 giants had collided against each other, and that created the real blast at GMCS. And on the last day I learnt 2 important lessons:-
1. Put up your best fight- and nobody cares where you end up. Can't explain this one. The sweetness of failure, that is something you have to feel... and enjoy.

2. Cheer for the victory of others, just as you care for your own. Now this one might sound a little Biblical (Love thy neighbour as thyself), and I could never heed this advice unless I had seen it with my very own eyes. The Zeal with which The Editor screamed her puny lungs out for every other team out there, cheered for them with all her heart, no terms and conditions applicable - that was the greatest sight I had seen, the best advice I got! 

You are right, there was a lot of action in there. The rivalry, the team spirit, getting geared up every morning and switching into Action Mode. That was fun to watch. And it is an amazing story to tell. But it doesn't have the magic. It doesn't have the pixie dust that will keep the story alive - I mean, most of my GMCS classmates who read this blog won't even remember all the competitions, and it's just been one month down the line. The magic of the story, the subtle flick of the wand - that happened when 48 of us stood up for the great man who walked left the podium. The wizardry happened when a great soul opened his gift box and said, "Thanks!" The potion was complete when we danced like never before at 6pm.

The culturals were over, the award ceremony was done with, certificates were distributed and the dignitaries had left the dias. 48 of us were left with each other. Treasure's eyes turned red, she started crying. There was a lot of hugging and shaking of hands. We exchanged phone numbers, promised to keep in touch and hesitantly, hoping that time would freeze forever, not wanting to leave, ever; we walked towards the door. Whether by accident, or on purpose, one of us turned on the music - OPPA GANGNAM STYLE!

This is not an abrupt end. I feel this is the most fascinating beginning! True, I struggle for words as I speak with a heavy heart, filled with memories of our great times. But that is not the reason I stop. I stop with hopes and dreams, of the great days that are to follow. For this is not a story about memories and nostalgia, it is about the bright new morning that lay ahead. Filled with action... and lots and lots and lots of...

Love

Waiting for Love

The day I fell in love with her... that was the day we were informed that the previous GMCS batch went for a tour during the course. So why not us? And since then, every time our dearest Chairman or any institute staff passes by, my classmates go, "Saaar... TOOOOOOR!?!?!?!?"

Collecting money from all the students, reconciling the physical cash balance, making payments to the concerned parties and reconciling the 100 rupees difference (which almost took my life. Not the money, but the disappointment in handling things. However, we got the money back), that was a fun thing to do. But the most beautiful part came, when we used the balance cash to buy our mentors a gift. The smile on their faces when they opened the box - Priceless! That was the least we could do guys, the smallest token of our infinite love for you.

Coming back to the heart of the story, Our GMCS Tour - Special thanks to our dearest tour guide who... I guess arranged everything! And special mention to my favourite Miss GMCS who took the initiative and went forward with it, everyday. Without you, this wouldn't have been possible sis! No, but that isn't the heart of this story; the heart of this story is.... not yet, we will have to wait for it... a little more.

We saw the epitome of excitement as 45 of us assembled at the institute to take head-count. The energy was physical, the pulse was reverberating in the crowd, and even as I was busy arranging the cash (and stealing glimpses at her) I was overwhelmed by the joy around me. Special appearances by our dear Manager and the Great Bald Wizard, took things to a whole new level (although we dearly missed our Long Hair Wizard). And as we got into the bus, everything spilled out.... correction, exploded like a volcano..... correction again, a simile is just unfair, because that batch of 50 literally had the power of a volcano. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Off the bus and on the boat towards a majestic island resort, and the beauty in which I was at that moment - Yes, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. This is the right time tell you about the heart of this story, my wait for love. A couple of days back during our class on motivation, when some nitwit numbskull bloody blundaleomite commented that I had no feelings for women, my eyes darted towards her in a flash, and she did catch my eyes. I was quick to turn away, because her eyes... I could get lost. When I made my presentation about the love story of a nerd, so many where quick to hypothesize my school time love life, nobody cared to look at the angel (a little too cheesy? alright...), the girl, sitting right across. The most beautiful woman, blah blah blah.... she is none of that. She is pretty in her own way, sweet voice; but something mysterious stole my heart. Else, friendship wouldn't get so complicated. Else, I wouldn't miss her so much, even today!

Well, no soapy romantic story is going to steal the fun out of our L-E-G-E-N-D-A-R-Y tour! What did it all start with? The girls started off with the kids park, guys (except Sania) missed out on that one. I still remember walking into the resort, the floating rooms, the park, the volley ball court, each scenery trying to outdo the previous one, and yes, with a lot of success. And then came the reception, quite majestic, no doubt. And just when we thought the glamour was getting over, we walked across the pool to the restaurant, where the most courteous waiters served us juice, and the most mannerless children gulped it down, glass after glass. Bats, balls (of all sizes) and badminton rackets were provided and we were quick to split up, girls picked up the badminton rackets and guys went for the cricket bats. And the games began! Played until the last drop of energy drained out for our body, clicked until the last bit of charge was oozed out of the camera and laughed as if we never knew sorrow. When food was served and the waiters and waitresses were smart enough to move out of the way, because the mob that attacked knew no mercy.

Water splashed against the shore; I guess there were around 20 of us who wet our legs in the beach. The great Kalakaran flaunted his expertise with the camera and Sania it seems got some classic shots clicked. But I was engrossed in the way my friend (yeah, we can call her that for the time being) waited for the waves to touch her toes. Now I don't know why a lot of people get irritated, but the wait, that is something special. Waiting for her to come online, waiting for her to pick up the phone, waiting for her to answer your text... sounds like gibberish to you? Alright then, waiting for your favourite computer game to load, waiting for the lights to go off and the movie to start, waiting for your superstar's movie to release, waiting for the chat making guy to prepare your dahi puri, waiting for exams to get over... Waiting - get soaked in that emotion at every opportunity you get, it's worth it!

Topped it off with a game of volleyball and a siesta in one of the half a dozen hammocks tied around. Had a marathon Chalu Adi Competition on the way back. And in the bus, I once again, six months after the Wayanad Journey, shed my inhibitions to take the dance floor. Bidding farewell to my friends, hoping I will never have to, I too got off the bus. Wanted to say something to her, wanted to say everything to her. But... let's wait. I am enjoying this. Falling in love!

Love

Lessons put to the Test

Never follow a girl - that is the lesson I learnt today. And how I learnt that lesson, that is a story worth telling.

It all started when my roommate and I decided to have lunch. Yes, in your bachelor life that is a major decision to take, a choice you must make as many a times the amount of energy spent in going out in the hot sun, walking all the way to the place wherever you get hygenic food and coming back consumes more calories than what you get from the lunch you eat. However, having regard to my dearest Mom's insistence, and keeping in mind the scoldings of my other relatives (I am talking about you Akkaji, from Anna Nagar, Chennai) I decided to go to Hotel Kumarakom, Nungambakkam. And I was right on time, for the training I received at GMCS is unforgettable. Never, never ever again in my life and the next seven lives that I will live, will I want to propose a guy.

You don't know that story? Well, it was also a magic done by our dear trainers at GMCS, walk into the class late and you will greeted with an applause. And as the days passed, they casted a more powerful spell - any person who walked into the class after Miss Punctuality - the most punctual girl of our class (Peak of Sarcasm intended), had to go up front and accept any Punishment that the class gives you. Mr. Muscleman had to milk a cow. And when he was late again, he had to propose to me. And yeah, I was late too, so I had to propose to him too. Chicken girl had to describe her dream boy (apparently she wants a chef whose name starts with 'J' and earns... how much was it, 2 Lakhs per month? Good Luck with that. And yeah, interested candidates can apply) and Mr Appukuttan had to perform an item song along with Titanic Boy (Refer the photo on Facebook taken at Poovar Resort. Yeah, the short one) and with our great Tour guy. Well, that was a really Gay performance, hats off guys. And on another occasion Mr. Appukuttan had to describe his Dream Girl (that's pretty easy actually. He has set the bar really low). And Miss Beautiful Smile had to sing for any five guys from the class (By the way, LOVE the song you sang to me :D) 

So you may conclude that anyone who attended that class will never ever be late for anything in their lives. Or their next seven lives, that is if you live again. Life after death is a topic of contention and one of our beloved friends gave a well informed presentation on that topic - 7 forms of heaven and 7 forms of hell and all that. The editor might recall having wanted to go to the 7th form of hell as she was expecting her friends over there (Good Luck sis). And there was of course the the really fun presentation by Chalusha on Paranormal activity. Man, did I have fun sneaking on my teammates and scaring the guts out of them while Chalusha was describing some ghosts spotted at Technopark. I have to give it to you sis, you did create the effects.

So, coming back to my story, I reached the restaurant on time, it was not my fault. Well, what happened was, the Manager at the hotel informed us that we would have to wait for around 15 minutes to I decided to go some place else to get a drink in the mean time (those of you who know Chennai might very well know what happens to your body when you are outside for 5 minutes. Serious Dehydration). I repeat, I was not late, the Manager was early! We got a seat right away, but we had gone to get our juice (and to those vile minds who thought drinks meant liquor... :P), so we missed our chance. We had to come back to the restaurant and wait another 10 minutes. And those 10 minutes changed my life. Well, that is just way too melodramatic. It changed my day.

All of you must definitely recall The Buji Love Story! Those of you not familiar with it, it was a powerpoint presentation I did, narrating a story about a nerd falling in love with a nerd. Now I am not saying that I am a nerd, I am not saying I am not a nerd, but just like I said in the story, a smoking hot chick sat right across me, waiting for lunch. Why me? And ofcourse (I have no idea who said I am not interested in girls in our class on motivation. You have no idea how WRONG you were), I sat there staring at the girl (just as I said in the story). And that's when I decided the revise on the lecture notes I had taken on one of the presentations at GMCS. I bet everybody had taken notes on that presentation. The one by Miss Beautiful Smile on What girls look for in guys! And there, at that moment, wearing an orange t-shirt and black shorts, with bulging incisors and an idiotic pair of glasses, I had an epiphany - I suck!

What a tragic thing to say!? I suck? After having heard all those wonderful advices, from my amazing friends, how could my confidence level go down. You remember all the advices we got right. The best has to be from Dracula boy, I mean the way he fought his introverted character was something I could connect a look up to. That story really helped me, not to become an extrovert, but to become an outgoing introvert, someone who speaks confidently and speaks to anyone. And the way he brought down his weight, truly inspirational. On the other hand we have the wonderful advice by the 2 marks girl, who cried her eyes out for the 2 marks she lost in her 12th standard exam. That was classic. WOW! And Appukuttan had an emotional story to share with us. And the one by our Kalakaran was truly heart touching. You have come a long way buddy. Mission Impossible girl though had a tough timing walking up to the stage, but I guess she ended up to be the one who spoke the most! No, that was in her speech about A.R.Rahman that she went on speaking, with the crowd and to the crowd. Not to forget ofcourse, the advice that Mr. Pucham shared with us. Never will I make fun of a guy who just had a break-up.

And recalling all those things my friends shared with me, I decided to ahead and stare at the girl. And me, being a little less professional at staring at girls, was caught. I saw her looking back at me and the expression on her face was a little less than friendly. Reminds you of the one of those situations where you wish nobody saw you.

One of those situations was our group performance. An awesome competition, where every team had to come forward, pick a lot and based on the topic given, you had to perform then and there. Our topic was "Your choice" and although it was deemed to be the easiest topic, it turned out to be the hardest as we had no idea as to what to do. And we ended doing the things we were worst at, as in, I danced! Well, you get a picture of how bad things went. However some of the other teams brought fire to the stage.

The team lead by Chicken girl for instance gave us a treat to watch. Renjini Haridas, Sheela and Jayan were simply cracking, and Suresh Gopi was out of the world. Proverb team also gave us a beautiful circus, a tough topic executed in style. Although the way Appukuttan ran with Carnatic Song guy was again, Gay. Music with Body Muscles, brilliantly executed! And the Cat Walk was truly sexy!

And that is teamwork, coming up with a performance right away, no matter what the circumstance. Long hair Sir rightly said it, its about how your team gells in. That creates magic, and it did in my story too, where my roommate did his best to help me get the girl. His advice was gold. "The first step", he told me, "is to be patient".

"So I fall sick?", a chaluvan would ask, but I didn't, for I knew that patience is the best virtue. The game on Fishing, 'Moving the ball through the path with a hockey stick' and Bowling taught me that. You had be patient and tactful. Patient as in, not to get frustrated when things don't go your way. That happened with the game of moving the ball with the hockey stick. Impatience meant defeat. Chalusha did a smooth job over there and so did our dear Miss GMCS. Also how Miss GMCS threw the ball during bowling was commendable as she was the only one in her team who cared to throw slowly. And remember the way the Tour Guide guy dived in through the tables to get the ball during bowling - Magnificent. Also, did you guys notice how our singer boy (aka AC boy) was carefully looking at how the other teams were fishing and tactfully planned their game. Fishing was probably the epitome of patience. You had to wait, either till the fish caught the hook, or till you got the right strategy.

We decided on our strategy to woo the girl. "Wait patiently, and when the opportune moment comes, you talk to her. Talk to her, without a pause, without a jerk and without any grammar mistakes most importantly. Can you do that?"

Yes I can. I have done that for JAM. But even more fun was GD and Story telling. Our story telling team wen to the toilet like 20 times and woke up from the dream 8 times. We created Inception part 8. The other blogger did a creative job with the switch in the head and invisibility. Singer boy was somehow interested in spying on his Naked Boyfriend! Group discussion too had flair. Everybody learnt and improved when they were done with their round, certain of that I am.

I stood up to go and talk to her, just when the waiter informed me that I had to leave the restaurant as there was a long queue waiting for a seat. And I was happy to chicken out, as in, I ran out of there, out of fear. "Dude, go talk to her", he adviced me again. "What is she slaps me across the face?" I asked. "Then we run like crazy!

Running I can do. I ran with my friend carrying a girl on a chair. So if my crush doesn't talk to me, I can very well grab her chair and run away. But that ofcourse would be a pain on my back for a week. I very well remember how the Kalakaran and I ran, carrying the editor, how the editor picked up the wrong sheet of paper and we had to run twice as much! That competition also created history, where in one of the teams, a girl picked a guy and ran. Hats off Miss GMCS. Hang on tight Sania. Keep up to your Captain Disaster Management guy. Woah, that was a rush!

Having given up on the girl, we decided to forget her and walk to the nearest mall. Now either I am extremely hot, or God is playing some cruel joke with me, but the beautiful girl I was staring at walked right into the mall. And we decided to follow her aka stalk her. Just like how we ran in the balloon running contest. The distance had to be right. The runners are too close and the balloon bursts, as in, bursts on your face in this context. The distance increases and the balloon drops. Chalusha did that like a piece of cake! And not to mention, focus. You had to keep your eyes only on the target. Nothing should distract you. That was one contest we could have won, had Miss GMCS not challenged me. But no complaints, I was, and still am proud of accepting that challenge - walking blind eyes through the maze. Appukuttan, I have no idea how you did what you did. Kudos man!

And finally we come to the amazing climax of my story. We stalk her all through the mall, And I will be surprised if she didn't notice. And when the girl walks out, we again follow her. We follow her all the way to the junction where she catches an Auto Rickshaw and dashes away on one side, while on the other, our bus -29B, the one that passes by only once in a couple of hours, just went along. Missing the bus meant waiting for another 2 hours, so we chased it (me half heartedly, I wanted to chase the Auto), and me missed the bus. And finally we ended up walking from Nungambakkam to T.Nagar! Thus, I say this once again, never follow a girl!

Love

Sheeaaeeyyyy!!!

I know my sister is going to kill me for this title, but I guess its pretty good. Don't know why, but I really love that sound - Sheeaayy!! So musical, so rhythmic - thank you, whoever taught me this song. Sheayy!

Now if you are busy, or you don't have the patience, or you are not in the mood, please do not scroll down. Because I am going to write about something beautiful... No, I am going to write about the most beautiful thing. The happiest thing, the most magical thing, and I am going to slog like a "Lazy Reader's" worst nightmare. And those of you who have dared to scroll further down, don't hurry. Read is word by word, read it aloud and talk to yourself. And read it again. How many of you love Paneer? Don't you know, when you go to some exotic hotel and order a Paneer dish, you lick up all the gravy with the main dish, but you save Paneer for last. And nobody just gulps down those soft, juicy pieces of cottage cheese. You bite it in half to marvel at the pure white centre. You play it in your fingers, you cuddle it in your mouth, you feel softness in your hand and slowly put it in your mouth again, and like the girl who eats cadbury silk smeared all over her mouth, you close your eyes and for one moment, you wander off to a white juicy Paneer World. Getting lost in what you do, it gives a wand's touch to it. Are you ready now? Shall I begin my story?

"What is the rate of depreciation for Windmill as per Schedule XIV?"
"15.33 sir..."
It was 10.34, and that pretty much made my day. I am not exaggerating over here, my Principal made my cry for that one. And this had come to be a routine affair for around two months (Not the crying, but pretty much everything else). Two Devastatingly tragic months of Final Audit! Deadly Final Audits. But like every story, this one too had a happy ending. And that happy ending, that epic climax lasted for 15 days.

Got back to Trivandrum 3 days in advance, and I was looking forward to 3 weeks of good food and great slumber. "Sit in the last bench, preferably behind some really tall guys", this was the advice I received before attending my classes, And I was afraid it was going to be true. I mean, teamwork, public speaking, presentations, leadership, communication, motivation... It would take nothing less than a SUPERHERO to keep you awake in those classes (wonder what you will call people who kept us running around the hall carrying people sitting on chairs in a "lecture" on "teamwork")
So, holding by breathe, hoping for the best and expecting the worst I got into the classroom, the third storey of the building which is my home outside home, shortly accompanied by the dance master simple dressed Appukuttan (who was also my only friend in the class back then). After a brief chit chat and hi-hi's our faculties walked into the room and started with the formalities, welcome speech, blah-blah-blah, and finally the dignitaries handed over the mike to the teacher for the day, who - Okay, okay, I understand, you are deperate for the Hero's introduction scene huh? Well, I'll just complete this and - no? You want the heroes now? Right away? Well, you are right, I myself can't hold the temptation. So, Fast forward, fast forward - Attitude, Higher conscious level, more attitude and more sleep (it was a session on attitude) - Fast Forward, fast forward - STOP!
                                                       THE EAGLE HAS LANDED!
Two gentlemen walked into the room. The first - handsome man, well built, balding head and dressed in formals (I guess he was wearing a tie) - a typical corporate guy, and an obvious MBA, walked towards the front of the room to address the class. And the other, I didn't even notice his face that day, only that camera that he was using caught my eye. Long hair (Bet he grew it to make the other guy jealous), unshaven beard, thinner than the other dude and almost the same height. And yeah, he too was formal (I guess, I don't remember how he looked the first day, but it is almost impossible to picture him in casuals).
"Deyy, these MBA guys will ruin it. They don't like Chartered Accountants and use opportunities like to screw them", this was the first thing I was told about those two gentlemen. Was it Appukuttan or Mr. Puchham who said it. Or maybe Disaster Mgt dude, or Chettikulangara guy, or the other blogger. One of them, they were the ones sitting around me that day.
"Okay, I am..." the bald guy introduced himself and his friend and this was what happened in the classroom.
"What's that? Sinju and Tuntu?"
"Aa, Sanji and Jenthu, angane enganda?"
"Samsung and Tintu, athu mathi!"
And then they pulled out their wands, and cast their first spell - "Self Introduction". Oh you think there is nothing magical, you don't need a wand, huh? Making 50 of us volunteer to go up, yes, 90% of us went forward voluntarily and dance in front of a crowd. Many of them even hearing of "Dance" for the first time in their life. It starts...
(Special mention to Appukuttan for his classic dance and also to the girl who asked the boys to dance with her. Kudos Yaar!)

That evening was... mediocre. And the next morning was also... mediocre. We were taught about communication and... something else also. And the next day afternoon, we had our favourite CA Chechi with her dose of games and fun. I don't know from where she got those ideas, but she did a bravo job in entertaining us! Not to mention the poor girl who sat in "a Chinese Shoe in New York City" Chinese Shoe! Wow, that was something else (It was a game were the person sitting in the last row was shown a sentence and that person had to whisper the sentence in the next person's ear and so on till it reached the guy in the first row. The actual sentence was something about a girl with a shiny blah blah blah in New York). And then we had a game were we had tofind out with non-verbal communication what card the other person was holding (every person was given a card at first) and arrange ourselves as Clubs, Spade, Hearts and Diamonds. And then a discussion about whom to donate a kidney, we had to choose out of 15 great personalities any 4 recepients of kidney, just in case all 15 of them had kidney failure together and there were only 4 kidney available. And yes, P.T. Usha anyday deserves a kidney, more than Viswanath Anand. And the best of all, perform a skit. Kudos to the performance by the great Sania! What a way to get a termination. And ofcourse the Chicken girl and Miss GMCS for their performance. That was stylish (and more importantly, they were on my team that day ;) )

Did I forget to tell you guys how the bald man and how the long hair guy absconded after giving so many promises. Divided into teams, competition, Golden Ticket, Mr. GMCS, Malappuram Kathi, Bofors Thokk... They promised us all this and kept us wait for 1 full day! Yeah, they did tell us that we would have to wait, but still, not fair. We want that one day also! WE WANT ONE MORE DAY!!!
Anyways, they returned on Wednesday (I was not kidding - I am getting that one day back by all means!). And we went to Hogwarts. Got separated into teams and I was clubbed with a group of complete strangers. Well, ofcourse I knew Mission Impossible girl, she was with me for CPT classes. And yeah, the great editor of our prestigious magazine (If you haven't heard of the magazine, I am not surprised :P), I knew her too. And the idea person (I will tell you how she got that name later), she was with me for orientation classes. And even before we got to know each other, we had out first task in hand - Prepare a logo for your team.

Enter Kalakaran and Idea Person. Kalakaran, because he can create art out of anything. Literally anything from ice-cream sticks to "GMCS" written on sand! And Idea person, because while five of us were fumbling for ideas and the most ridiculous names popped into our heads, this girl came up with an array of beautiful names. We only had to choose what we choose best. And we did!
Then came the introducing part. It was quite stunning how some turned a proverb into a name. And they did struggle to create a logo out of it! And of course, the cliches, more than one team had to rise out of the ashes. Warriors of colosseum caught our hearts with their simplicity, while two pretty lamps and the Hindi script was really elegant. My favourite though were the mountaineers, and they did reach the top!
And then came the team launch, my debut at compering. And we had a good kickstart for our team with a beautiful classical dance - kudos chechi, you always take my heart away with those steps! A simple skit and a cute dance, we wrapped things up. There were group songs, group dances and everything else, but bottom line, every single team outdid themselves. Nobody voted for the best, but I really liked the team that pulled the joke on Samsung and Tintu! 

So, that's GMCS for you. 50 kids, 15 days and 2 legends with LOADS OF FUN. Lots of Excitement, Lots of learning, Lots of Confidence, Lots of nostalgia and an eternity of Love. That was GMCS. It was the Best advice I got, it was the most beautiful place I have been to, It was about the Indians of the Century. I don't think I will ever stop writing about GMCS, not anytime soon, that's for sure. There is a LOT more coming, so stay tuned!

Love

When everything is brilliantly wrong!

Let me be frank with all of you - I have no idea what story I am going to tell you. Looking at the mirror, I don't see a   forty year old, 5 feet tall, dark skinned housewife; but a hundred, a thousand girls scattered across the wall; each like a painting on which hours would have been spent. Some of them are bright, brilliant, radiant, colourful, simply magnificent. Some of them, dynamic black and white portraits, that glow in front of your eyes. Some of them are dull and boring. And some of them; pitch black. Maybe red too. But one thing is for sure, not even the brightest of them all will match the beauty and the glory of the of wall of which they hang. Now what story do I tell you?

Maybe that was the only day in my entire life that I woke up earlier than I had to. College started at 10am and I was bent over my study table at 5.30, my Faber Castell making perfect strokes on the A3 sheet. Each line had to be just right, so close to each other, but not overlapping. Once you have the lines done, you draw the lines again in a perpendicular direction, to get the darkness right. This time I had to be really careful. Each line had to be measured, only then will I get the perfect intensity in my portrait. And my assignments should be nothing less than that. Perfect!

"What the? Which is East? Where did the sun rise? Why are you up so early? Who are you?" Funny how Devi shot those questions without a miniscule hint of the slumber she just had. I mean, normally you are like, "Ahhhh.... *yawn*, wha... What are you... Ahhhh... *yawn*, doing?" Never knew Surprises could make you so alert in the morning.
"Assignment Di. Have to submit it today no?"
"Yeah, but you.... Ahhhh... *yawn*", that's better, "completed that already right?"
"I tore that one off." Yes I did.
"WHAT!?" Ouch. That scream hurt my ear. And almost woke the entire hostel up.
"Yeah, I had smudged it with my finger a little. And... It was not perfect. Yuck! Looked disgusting actually.  now look at this. 100% strokes, now that's beautiful!"
"You are absolutely crazy! Arathi, the one you did earlier was amazing! And everybody smudges their portraits. John won't say a thing"
"Maybe John Sir won't." I was the good student. Did her work in time and never addressed the professor without a 'Sir' or a 'Madam', as the case may be. "But I will. Just look at this yaar. Can you even compare this one with the earlier work. Nothing doing. Just a couple of strokes more and my work is complete. You get ready now. It's 9.15 already."
"Bloody hell! No bath today then. Let me get dressed. Since when have you been up?"
"5.30" She gave me the "you are crazy" roll of the eyes look and dashed to the toilet, and I put the final stroke to my master-piece. Wallah! Now nicely fold it up, put it in your blue coloured notebook, move the notebook to one corner of the table, and get ready in a jiffy. Have GOT to be the first to submit the assignment. John Sir will have to salute me now. Maybe a tear or to would be fine. That's appreciation enough.

Alright kids, now let me teach you the most important lesson of your student life. When you are done with your homework, put it inside the bag. Because 20 is too young an age to get a heart attack. And if you forget to carry the assignment that you spent an entire sleepless night on to college, you are going to get a Major Heart Attack. Trust me!

My eyes felt as if they were on fire, and they looked that way too, red as fire. Bathed in tears I pulled emptied the bag looking for the green notebook I kept my portrait in. I shoved my hands inside the bag and scanned it thoroughly, again and again and again. It was nowhere. My fingers trembled beyond control. I couldn't catch my breath. Panicked to the point of suffocation I scanned my books one by one. None of them was green. How could it be? I completed my portrait. Argued with Devi for what seemed like an hour, put the final stroke on my work, kept it safely in the notebook and that was it. After getting dressed I threw all the notebooks lying on the table into my bag.... or did I? When did I last see the green note book? "Hey guys, did you see my book", helplessly, with a wavering voice barely able to spell out the words I turned to my classmates. They all shook their heads together. "What happened?", "What's wrong?", "Can I help you?" some of them enquired. I was in no mood for chit chat. How the bloody blundaleomite could I forget it? I almost shouted. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

The entire class stood up to greet Professor John, who wasted no time in signalling all the students to place their assignments on his table. As cleverly as I was trying to avoid his gaze, his eyes spotted me and he said, "Arathy are you alright?"
"Yes sir. I was just" I struggled to stutter. Let alone speak.
"You are wanted in the staff-room. Susmita is looking for you" He didn't wait for me to elaborate. Or should I say, he cut me short. Literally.

Mrs. Susmita Chandran, Head of Arts Department at our college had asked me to meet her that morning, to discuss about the college fest. I would be performing a solo dance and also leading a group performance. Well, if shivering were a dance move, I was Shobhana that morning.

"Will it kill you to wake up a little bit early one morning. Didn't I tell you to meet me a little early this morning?" If there is a God, I am pretty sure he is planning all this on purpose. And I am sure its a he because only a guy could be this cruel. In all that tension about the missing green notebook, I forgot that I had to meet her that morning. And Susmita Maam was one person you didn't want to anger.
"Madam, I was a little,"
"What Madam Madam? You are a dancer ad tomorrow on I might ask you for early morning dancing sessions. You should be a little disciplined Arathy." She was a really nice woman actually. But a voice as hoarse as a peacock and her really irritating mood swings which aggravated the effects of her voice, made her a personality anyone would hate. A personality who could spoil your day.
"S-Sorry Maam", I stuttered. But now there was a slight relief. I had escaped John Sir's Class. Which meant, time to go and get the assignment from the hostel. Yee-Haw!
"Alright, so you have practice all day today. Go and get your stuff from the hostel and gather all your team members. We will start right away." The doctor prescribed just what the patient wanted. I ran towards my hostel like a bullet from a gun.

Shining, brighter than the sun, greener than the forest, resting in peace, awaiting its unison with its master, the green notebook lay on my study table in solitude. I quickly flipped the pages to look for my portrait and it wasn't there. A bolt of lightning went through my head. My legs became weak and my fingers became numb. Everything became empty.

There was no time to waste. Gather your stuff and dash. And for the day, stay out of John Sir's sight. If Susmita doesn't have any plans for tomorrow morning I will complete my work once again and submit it tomorrow. Will tell him that I completed it the previous day itself and that I couldn't submit it because I was busy with all this dancing and stuff. That's that. Now let's focus on'next issue at hand. College Fest - Dance Program. I swiftly picked up my stuff, double checked the bag to make sure that I didn't miss anything and ran towards the practice room in the basement of our school building.
"Where are the others?" Susmita, busy setting the music player, asked me.
"Uh, I" But she wouldn't give me a chance to complete, would she?  
"Now, do I have to ask you to do everything one by one. Go and call everybody. Fast! You have wasted enough time!"
"Alright Maam", like an obedient student and quickly walked off, only to stopped by her.
"Wait, where are you going?"
"Uhh...", without making the pause too long for her to thrash me again, "I will assemble everybody maam"
"Do you have the team list with you?" Fish! How could I forget to get that from her!? "Wake up already Arathi. Be alert!" Dear God, I hope you are enjoying all this.

I gathered the list of 8 students from her and started towards the first year classes. Most of the participants were first years. Only one of them from the second year, my classmate - Neha. And collecting her would mean, facing John Sir. Uh oh.

"Maam, can I have Lakshmi?" I asked the professor, peeping into one of the first year classes. He politely signaled the chubby, fair skinned girl and she came out of the class to meet me. I explained to her about the dance practice, stopped her from screaming with excitement, introduced her to the other 7 girls including myself and gave her a life saving task.
"Lakshmi, now can you do me a little favour. Just go to this classroom, ask for Neha and bring her to the basement. There will be one John Sir in the class, just tell him its for the dance practice for the college fest."
"Okay!" She said, still not being able to contain her excitement and walked away, while I led the other girls to the basement for dance practice.

"Where are Lakshmi and Neha?" Does she get paid to scold me?
"Maam, I have sent Lakshmi to get Neha."
"Why do you do this Arathy? Who is the team leader, you or Lakshmi? That first year girl might not even know where the class is. Why do you let your juniors go run such errands? How many times to I have to ask you to be a little more responsible?"
"Alright Maam, I will go and get her." I had seen the limits of my temper and patience. I mean, there is a limit for things. I am not an 8th grader!
Tying my shawl around, ready to start shaking my feet, I walked out of the room, up the stairs, and found my two comrades headed towards me. With a jerk I turned around and Ouch.

"She has sprained her ankle", the doctor said, inspecting the swollen foot. "You will have to rest for a week. No dancing", the doctor gave his verdict and disappeared. And I didn't have the courage to lift my eyes from the swollen feet. Susmita was counting on me for the Dance program and this time I let her down Big Time. I knew that if I missed an entire week of practice, there was no way I could be ready for the fest. Which meant the team would not have a leader. Which meant I let down all the 8 girls. If the program got cancelled, then.... I could feel Lakshmi's anxiety over my head.

My eyes had swollen more than my feet. My heart reached my throat as I prepared myself to face Susmita who would invariably throw a tanrum. Or maybe just kill me! "How are you feeling honey?" The hoarse voice whispered over me. I jerked my neck to turn towards her face, just to make sure it was her itself. And it was Mrs. Susmita Chandran. A kind face, eyes full of sympathy looking at me. "Don't worry. You take rest. I will ask two girls to help you to your class."

"No!" Susmita looked at me dubiously. Now what do I say. "Maam", words tumbled out of my mouth. My brain didn't play a role over here, I am sure, "I don't think we have to waste a whole day of practice just because of me. I know I am the leader and without me practice will be of no use. But... umm... we will atleast teach these girls the basics. Get them used to the song. Get them ready. I can help out. My leg will be alright by tonight I am sure. So tomorrow when I get started, even they will be ready. We can practice today"
"Are you sure?" Was she asking about the practice for the day or my being ready by the next day. I still do not know. But I nodded the strongest nod ever in the history of nods, "Positive"

We practiced until John Sir's class got over. And for the rest of the day I sat in my class doing some tragic introspection, which led me to more trouble for not concentrating in class, which led me to do some more introspection which led me to more trouble. And by the end of the day I was completely washed out. With one hand over Devi's shoulder I dragged myself towards my hostel room, seriously considering the option of throwing myself out of the window that night.

"Surprise!" I never knew my room could host 500 girls! An entire army of women, what looked like 500 but could not have been more than 15, walked out of my room hugging and kissing me one by one. And the last of them walked towards me with a cake bearing 21 candles. 21, I guess is a good age to get a heart attack. And I was getting one. "Happy Birthday", all of them sang. My eyes turned wet again.
The entire hostel celebrated for me, an evnt I myself had forgotten.. Well, God is a gal I guess then.

"Happy Birthday!" Professor John walked up to me. "And let me tell you. The portrait was absolutely fabulous!"
Now, should I ask him what portrait he is talking about. Nahh, never mind. However, later I found out that it was the blue book I has kept my assignment in, and that I had carried it to class and that after I left for dance practice one of my neighbours in class found it lying on the able and gave it to Sir and he loved it.
"And I loved it. So, I took it to the Principal and he has approved of this portrait as our entry to the National Fest to be held at Delhi on 20th May. And you, will be leaving to Delhi on the 18th."
Now, should I scream "YAHOOOO!!!" which I guess I did. Or should I inform him that 18th is the date of our college fest. Yeah, I think I should ask that.
"Yes, principal sir told me that you will be leading a dance team. But then later I came to know that you sprained your ankle and won't be able to practice for dance. So I talked to Susmita Miss and she agreed to send you. She just wants your help to audition for a new team leader and train the new team. Guess you will have enough time for that."
"Sure, yes sir. That would be great!"

And it was great. Thanks to a sprained ankle, like a classic fairy tale story, this one got a Happy Ending. Guess I should have started off with Once Upon a Time. Well, then again, I didn't end up getting kissed by a prince so its a fair deal.

Now I look at the mirror again, a short, dark skinned, 40 year old housewife, with a hundred paintings in her canvas and many more in the making.

Love

The Lost Underwear and A Divine Dinner - My Last Act

"Ï WILL KILL YOU!"

Was it the sweet and soft piece of Paneer that danced in my mouth, or was it the Sitar that sang to the air that could pull crowds from across the nation with its tantalizing aroma. Or was it the fact, that the most beautiful woman, I have ever seen, and will ever see in my life, was smiling.
Yes, it was her... her smile that made my day. And her eyes, that shined like the full moon in the mid-night sky of her skin. And her lips, as they kissed the glass for a sip of orange juice, what was sweeter? Her face was bony and looked divine when she wore that large bindi on the middle of her forehead. She was sitting in front of me wear a black shiny dhavani, long ears that dangled as she took each bit and danced as she laughed. And how she laughed, with the voice of a singer, it always paralysed me.
"Try this out", her voice was always so melodious. For once, the Sitar didn't sound nice. Nothing could sound nice when she talked. It was hard not to compare. She picked a piece of Paneer from her plate, squeezed the gravy out of it, and took a bite from it, exposing its white centre. "Paneer.... Just so delicious!"
I followed her lead. It was magical.

"Are you even conscious?" My angry roommates voice blared as I snapped out of the nostalgia of my Potterical evening. I hadn't stepped into my house, hadn't even removed my blazer, that I had specially purchased for that evening, or even removed my shoes, that I had specially polished for that night. The angry face was staring at me from inside, and I was staring back at him from outside, utterly confused!
"Sorry, I was just... well... Nothing could have distracted me!" I said with shrug, still dreamy about the evening that just went by.
"Not even this?" My friend slapped me on my head.
"Well, technically not even that. You see, you can only get distracted when atleast 1%, or atleast 0.01% of your attention is on your surroundings. But when 100% is on, something so beautiful, I wouldn't have noticed even if you hit me with a rock. You see, its like the Road Runner show. That coyote is so focused on its target that it will fall down, only after it looks down. Even gravity can't distract him."
"Three things: first of all, The Road Runner show was one of favourite cartoons and because of your tragically romantic philosophy, now I hate it. Second, 'something so beautiful!'. Are you talking about that jungle girl you just dated?"
"My jungle queen!" At first I used to get irritated when people called her that. But then, she herself laughed at that, and well, her laugh almost cures anything. And then soon it became her nickname - The Jungle Queen!
"Good heavens, how could even think she is beautiful. She looks like a crow! And that gigantic bindi and those humungous earrings, and good knows from where she gets those Sarees. And her face, does she have a black hole in her mouth or what? Why does it look that way?"
"She is that most beautful woman. Ever!"
"I actually want to kill you for saying that. But there is a worse reason to kill you", my friend said and pointed towards the bedroom at my third roommate, who was staring at three underwears which he lay across my bed. A closer inspection brought to my notice, they were all identical. And only one of them was mine.

Let me be honest with you guys, it was not one of my best evenings. It might have as well been one of my worst evenings, although back then I thought otherwise. Around one week back, due to the persistent insistence of my two roommates, I went to watch a porno film... in a theatre. Well, what's wrong in that? Having sex is just natural. And there is nothing wrong in seeing people do that. I think. And we went to the bar, first time for me, to have a drink. And after that my memory is a little hazy. Yeah, it really kicks in when you have alcohol for the first time.
"Hey, look underwear! How much for one?" One of us shouted. I guess it 3 underwears for 10 Rupees or something.
"Then I will have one!" "One for Me!" "And one for me too!" And thus we bought 3 underwears that night. One week later, we found out that we have been wearing identical underwears. And now we don't know which one belongs to whom?

"How did this happen?" The third roommate asked me. It seems those two had some conspiracy while I was away to put all the blame on me. But I had me defence ready; for the past one week.
"Hey, it was your idea to get me drunk!" End of discussion. The blame was out of my shoulders.
But that was just one job done. The more important task, to identify which one belongs to whom. That was a real dilemma. What to do? Smell it?

"How did it happen?" The question was asked to me again. But this time, by someone I wouldn't have preferred. "What exactly happened?"
"What do you mean?" My worst nightmare could not come true. The underwear story could not have reached my girlfriend! Please, please say anything but, "I am talking about the underwear story!"
"I am talking about the underwear story!" Fish!
"Hey, wait, but tell me this first. How did you come to know about this?"
"The entire office knows about this. Your drunk roommate put it on whatssap last night. And today morning we interrogated him at office and he sang like a parrot and I ALMOST PUKED!"
"Hey, I know it is not something you can be proud of, but... these things happen. You should be happy that this happened just once!"
"I am not talking about the underwear. You went to watch a Porno? And had drinks at a pub?" Alright, she was serious. And I was in trouble! Let me see what can be done.
"Hey, don't be like a child yaar. Sex is natural"
"I didn't think you were that kind of guy!" Things were going out of control. Something had to be done immediately, and a debate about the pros and cons of pornography or drinking will not save the day.
"Hey, its not like I drink everyday or watch. It was just..."
"Just once that I know of!" Bloody hell, its code red. Time for the ultimate weapon. God save me.
"I am really really sorry! I promise... Promise in your name this will never happen again!" Please work, please work, please work!
"You are not the guy I liked"
"Please, I am sorry. Really really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. God Promise!" Tears had filled up my eyes.
"Never talk to me!"
"Please...", I was sorry.
"Ever again!"
The girl who shone like the Kohinoor last night, walked away. Just a few feet away, but it felt like miles. She was right there, across the room, but there was a huge wall in between us, and I could not go through.

Did I do the wrong thing in watching porn that day? Was I wrong in drinking that night? Or was I wrong in apologising to her?
Did I love her? Am I actually crying for her? What is right and what is wrong?

"What is right, is that you shared your underwear with your roommate. And that made a hilarious story!" My Jungle Queen whispered in my ear and kissed my cheek.


Hey all, its Ramon here. 25 blog posts and over 4000 pageviews, I am living the dream and thanks to all you guys, for inspiring me and motivating me, everyday. For asking me, "Hey, haven't you updated yet", and for saying, "Hey, I read it". And the best part of all, how much I learnt through this blog. Every post has been a lesson. Every story has taught me, somethings only stories can teach you. And I have loved it all. The night I stay up to tell a story, the evenings where I cook up my stories, the noons where I come across my tales, and the mornings where I decide, "Today I will say a story". It was heaven, it was a dream come true, it was an ambition realised! Thank you all for being with me. And I promise, Writer's World will be back with so much more! But for now, let me bid farewell. So much more to says, sorry's and thank you's. But let me wrap it up. Good Night!

Love

Ramon Dharma Rajan 

A Charismatic Curse

Telling a story is so much like singing a song; you need a rhythm that sways the reader, your pitch should be perfect and the words must be crystal clear, falling into the listener’s ear with the finest clarity. But sometimes the singer has to throw away all these rules to sing a song. There will be jerks in the rhythms, raga and shruthi will have to be ignored and words will be reduced into blasting sounds. There will be nothing but energy in that song. Such is the story I am going to sing today – My story. Well… Read and Enjoy!

         

          My story starts, obviously, the day I was born. But being a family man, living a peaceful life, I have to say my real story, the story that shaped the man who I am today starts in the first week of 9^th standard; Junior college as we used to call it back then.

          After college everybody laughs at that phrase, but an unbiased perspective will tell you that there was something about the last four years at school that gave a tint of college life. It was marked by radical life-changing turning points, so many colours and plummeting attendance. What you learn over there will mould your life. I learnt a lot from Ajith. And it almost moulded my life.

          For us 9^th graders, 11^th graders were nothing less than Gods.  Just out of 10^th standard Board Exam pressure and absolutely ignorant of the academic importance thrust in the year, they were the symbols of the explosion youngsters could make. They had the energy, the power, the vibrancy, the charm… The Charisma! They were the epitome of “Fun”, ask any school student. Best at Basketball, soccer and cricket, amazing pranksters, unbeatable at repartee, kings and queens of wit and for some illogical reason – stunningly good looking! Let me put it straight, for us, hanging out with one of them was like; our ultimate ambition. Being known as, “The guy who hangs out with those 11^th graders” would do wonders to your social status (which obviously meant everything to a school boy. And a college boy. And basically any human being in the world)

          And Ajith was my hero. Boy, what is it about him that almost makes you gay. I swear I have fallen in love with him every time he smiles at me. How is Ocean blue eyes just throw me into an imperius curse! What was it about him? He was tall, handsome, smart, funny, friendly, athletic, and astonishingly popular; every girl admitted her love for him. How does all this work? Charisma… the mystery behind the word is seriously annoying.

          Thankfully, or maybe not, I had known these two facts much before I got into 9^th standard and by God’s grace, I got to know him in the first week of school itself. There, as I told you all earlier, started my story. For most of my batch mates, this part of the story might be the longest. But lucky for you, this is all there is in my case:

“Anila, I have something to tell you. And I won’t make this long. Just 3 words” The round faced girl with plaited hair and a beautiful big bindi turned red, her eyes almost pooped out. “I”, followed by the most clichéd pause and a sigh for special effects, “have a really bad stomach ache. Do you have any medicines or something?”

          “GO TO THE DOCTOR YOU JACKASS!!!” I had cracked up and started towards the gang before she could react. “And that’s 14 by the way!”

          “Sorry, always been bad at maths” Bonus points! Ajith’s right hand man, Vinay was patting my shoulder and I could see the boss himself beaming at me.

          “Good job kiddo”, Ajith high-fived me, and I had made my Grand Entry into the Most Prestigious Posse of City International School. Tadaaaa!!!

          Boy was that year fun! Was there a day I had not laughed? Was there a day that was not awesome? Started out with movies and lunch get-togethers, but soon I was with them travelling across the country for a vacation. Late night hang-outs and partying at bars had become a norm. Drinking became a habit and smoking became an addiction. And girls were flocking towards me. Dream come true moments.

I mean, I could actually see myself a few months back, yearning to have fun, the way you are supposed to have fun. And there I was, living the moment. In a matter of few months school life had changed upside-down. I was the centre of attraction in my batch – junior Ajith, as many called me! People wished they could hang out with me, guys and gals were shy of talking to me, and my juniors looked up to me with awe. Lived every minute of it, let me tell you. When somebody treats you like a boss, be the boss! And when people don’t, treat them like shit!

“Where are you going?” My mom enquired, and that pissed me off. Moreover, the place where I was going to… was not a place anyone would discuss with their parents.

“Mom, I am not a kid. Please let me be myself…” My mom was always that annoying type. You know, always nagging you, “Where are you going?”, “When will you be back?”, “Be careful when you cross the road” and it goes on and on and on and on… Of late, I learnt to ignore it. I seriously didn’t want anything to ruin the moment. I was fussy about my royal stature.

  “How do you get rid of annoying Moms?” I asked Ajith one day. It seems it was a question almost everyone in our group had.

“Get married”

“And how do you get rid of annoying wives?” another question popped up.

“You can’t. Law of the universe my pal. An annoying woman is always there to ruin the day!” Ajith was unstoppable.

So was my mom. “Did you do your homework today?”

“Mom, FIY, I got past 4^th standard five year back!” I simply walked out of the house.

And as I explored new arenas of school life, started moving to next levels, even my mom started stepping up her game. Can’t call it a game, sometimes it was seriously annoying and got on my nerves.

“That doesn’t even belong to me. I have to return it tomorrow. Got it just for one bloody day, can’t you at least let me play for that one day?” – When she hid the PSP I borrowed from my friend, so that I focus on my studies. Things got a tad rougher when she found cigarettes under my bed.

          If my mom was tough, I was the Don. Nothing could stop me from living the life. I played my Play Station, had me drinks and lived my life. Yeah, she was there with her constant policing, but as they say, Don ko pakadna mushkil hi nahin, Namumkin Hai!

          Until finally we reached the, “This ends here!” moment. Kind of too childish to describe the situation actually, because what happened could easily be called as World War III if she anybody but my Mom. Second term results were out and she found the report card which, I thought I had were tactfully hidden! “WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING IN SCHOOL? WHAT KIND OF MARKS ARE THESE?” The anger in her eyes…

          “Amma, nobody studies in 9^th standard. Nobody will even see these marks. Everybody -”

          “I DON’T WANT TO LISTEN ABOUT EVERYBODY. I DON’T WANT TO LISTEN TO ANYTHING. THERE IS A LIMIT; I CANNOT TOLERATE ANY MORE OF THIS NONSENSE!”

          “Who is asking you to?”

          I almost did it in my pants I swear! The way her face turned, tears filled in her eyes, cheeks turned red, as if on fire. She was shivering all over, never had I seen her like that. She grabbed my hand with every ounce of strength and pulled me into my room. “YOU ARE SITTING IN HERE. THAT IS IT!” She screamed locking the room from outside. And I could not even move. The entire scene had paralysed my. And worse, I would miss my movie that night!

          And for a whole day, she did not open the door. I figured she meant business. For even if I had blasted the twin tower and my mom happened to be the President of the US, she would still give me three meals a day!

          One of Ajith’s friends had once told me how to open locked doors without the key. You could use a safety pin; twist it into a key and “Open sesame!” had never tried it before, but it worked. It was well past midnight, so I figured mom must have been asleep. Thought of dialling Ajith and meeting up. Cautiously, I moved to the living room to get out of the house. I found my mom lying on the floor in front of the sofa. She had fainted.

          I rushed towards her, her glaring face filled with tears still in front of my eyes, pulled her head on my lap and tried to wake her up. She wouldn’t wake up. Brought a glass of water from the kitchen and sprinkled it on her face, slowly she opened her eyes. Her head turned towards me and she jerked up, “Oh! Wait, oh my God, did I fall asleep. So sorry da! Wait, dinner is ready, eat now”

          She ran towards the kitchen chiding herself. “How could I fall asleep!? Oh my God, my boy has not eaten anything today. Here, eat fast. Shayy! I didn’t feed you anything, Oh my God!”

          Wait, did my mom just get Alzheimer’s or something. What was going on? I was shocked. “I am so sorry da. I shouldn’t have locked you up. I don’t know, I got so angry, and… so,” and she started weeping. “I didn’t know what to do. How to make you listen? How to make you understand? You listen to your friends and obey every word they say. They are cool, and all that. I am not. What would I do? I just didn’t know. I am so sorry da. Here, have some more. Do you want anything else?”

          Obey every word they say? I didn’t obey everything they said. I was not their slave. Wait… I…

          “Dad, I going to play with my friends. And in the name of bloody heaven will you get my cell phone fixed atleast today!? It has been almost a week since I have been screaming and… I want it perfectly working today itself, alright?” My son shouted from across the room and slammed the door.

          That night my mom taught me two things:

1.    Charisma a curse. It makes you oblivious about a beautiful world; that is just not charismatic.

2.    If you set your heart to it. You can even make a blind man see.

And today my son reminded me one thing. Life has to go a full circle. Wonder where I kept the keys to his room?

                                                                                                                                        

Love