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