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