I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas

It's Christmas time again..

I guess I am crazy. I relate all my memories to places, songs, festive seasons, people, smell, etc. Have you ever eaten a green yummy gummy worm?? I have.. Rom forcefully put one into my mouth. ‘Lemon tree’ always reminded me of this episode even after eight long years. Don’t ask me why.. I really don’t know.. Probably it’s just that her cousin loved this song... Probably..

Do you know that I was convicted for an attempted murder when I was just six??? Raw mangoes were my weakness during childhood. Morris, my 16 year old neighbor knelt in front of me. I had a raw, real sour mango in my left hand and a knife in my right hand. GIVE IT TO ME!! He barked. He scared the shit out of me.. A pause.. I did not hesitate. I stroke him down with the knife. Five stitches on the forehead. I turned out to be an overnight sensation among the other kids in my neighborhood. Was I crazy??

Yesterday, one of my team members approached me for 3 days of leave. Something evoked my mind to bring up this unpleasant incident to my conscious mind. How could this happen out of the blue??? Give me a minute.. Said I. Sure!! He was back on his seat. Five minutes…. Rajan!!! He came up to me swiftly assuming that I had already approved his leaves. What’s in your mouth? A candy.. What candy?? Parle.. Which flavor?? Raw mango (Kacha Aam).. Great!!!! The mystery was solved. He gave me a perplexed look. I have granted your leaves.. Thank you!!! He offered me a Kacha Aam. I refused politely. I could not tell him that I didn’t like it coz it smelled blood.. He thought I was crazy.. Was I??

Would killing black ants cost someone’s life? It almost did. It was Christmas time.. I was watching my favorite cartoons series ‘A Pup Named Scooby-Doo’. My mom always found that some groceries were needed whenever I was doing something very important (Like watching Scooby-Doo). Moreover, she never let me negotiate on those ‘right away’ orders. But I could convince her that I cannot manage alone. My brother always cursed me for that.

I jumped out of the house and my eyes were caught on the wall. I saw a cluster of black ants which moved faster than the most common red ants. I enjoyed playing God and universe with such ants and insects. I would be the God who took care of the world (ant’s colony). I had complete control over them. I rescued them from all natural disasters. Sometimes I punished the bad ants. How could they settle on the wall without my permission??? I decided to punish them by sending fire. I took out an old newspaper and burnt it. Black ants moved very hastily. I only noticed hundreds of ants falling on the floor succumbing to the rage of their mighty God. But my mom noticed the lately painted (for Christmas), ‘as white as snow’ wall turning black. SLAP!!! Her five fingers said something to my face.. It took time for me to grasp what had happened. I was worried if the survivors would realize that their God was overpowered. With all agony and pain I asked her.. WHY HERE?? (I meant in front of the ants).. She didn’t seem to understand, she never cared..

All this happened, so we had to go late to the grocery shop. I walked holding my brother’s hand feeling deprived of my pride and honor. Suddenly, a fast moving object collided with us from behind. I was lifted and landed on the road in a fraction of a second. I saw my brother flying like the Superman to the other side of one of the most heavily traveled roads in Cochin at the peak hour. I could feel my shirt getting wet. I closed my eyes even before I realized that it was blood. That was a 'drunken master' in action. He was flying a motor bike and had hit us from behind during his stunt. As Mr. Bond said, "Accidents do happen".

I opened my eyes, I was smart enough to realize that I was in a hospital with the smell of disinfectants. I noticed my brother lying on the bed next to mine. I thought he was dead and he thought, vice versa.. I had four stitches on my head and my brother, five stitches on his chin. My mom cried till the day we were discharged from the hospital. She thought it all happened because of her. This would not have happened if she had sent us five minutes earlier to the shop. Even now, her eyes would overflow if I refer to this incident. I often did :).. Am I crazy??

The smell of paints and solvents remind me of Christmas. My papa made it a point that the house got painted every year just before Christmas. I still remember I would be under tremendous stress preparing for the mid term examinations. The house would be in a highly disorganized state with the smell of paints and turpentine. Every year, every single year, my papa hired the same guy who was highly inefficient and irritating. He took atleast six days to complete the work along with his assistants which can be completed in three day’s time. He would just laugh if we asked. He called me Josie, and atleast 25 times a day. Josie, I need some water.. Josie get the brush which I have kept on the table.. Josie get me a rope.. Josie turn on the TV, I need to watch the news.. Almost every year I asked my papa not to hire him atleast for the next year. That year he delayed it so much that he finished the painting on 24th evening.

My friends had come home that evening so that we could all go for the midnight mass from there. As soon as we entered the house, I called my mom and started cursing that guy, explaining how lazy and unproductive he was. I also told that he was an idiot who never knew how to manage his work. My mom stood there without uttering a word.. Her face turned red.. I felt something was wrong. One of my friends poked me from behind and pointed towards the sofa. I slowly turned towards the sofa. I saw him sitting there without even chewing the banana chips he had already put in his mouth. He left the tea cup half filled and came to me. He patted on my back and said, “Merry Christmas” and left humiliated and dishonored on a Christmas eve.. I am sure I was crazy!!


I am in a constant battle with myself to suppress the bad things in me and to bring out the goodness. This Christmas, I dream of being a better son, a better brother, a better companion and a better neighbor. May the good times and treasures of the present become the golden memories of tomorrow. Wish you lots of love, joy and happiness.


MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!


"Christmas, my child, is love in action. Every time we love, every time we give, it's Christmas."
- Dale Evans Rogers

I WAS HERE..

I was born in one little corner of the world. It soon became my world. I was a shy kid who always used to smile regardless of the circumstances. I was very calm, quiet and innocent for the ones not so close and mischievous for the dear ones.

My home was my battlefield and my brother, my rival. We fought for the care and attention from mom. That, in fact, was not my concern. Most of our relatives, neighbors and friends found him smarter than me. They often proclaimed it in groups and this was a SUPREME INSULT for me. They thought I was a dumbass who never talked, but smiled. My brother was a social animal and enjoyed the highest degree of popularity among family and friends. My mom thought he was tidy and clean, and I, a complete menace. I jumped over the bed with soiled feet. I always spilled liquid food on the floor and splashed water from the faucet after brushing my teeth. I cannot tell you how my mom hated wet floor.

He participated in almost all sports events in school and won many prizes as well. My only achievement was that I was part of the theatre in school. I still remember doing the role of “Salvation” who rescued people from the pit of sins. However, that did not make me popular in school. With the heavy make up and weird costumes, I don’t think someone even recognized me. He had a very nice handwriting, I didn’t. I was glad that at least in studies; he was an average student just like me.

He started earning when he was just 12 years old. His business spread across various fields including, but not limited to philately, numismatics, aquaculture, rabbit breeding etc. The secret behind his success was that he was really passionate about whatever he did. My dad was so proud when he bought a bike (bicycle) with the money he saved. He was good at saving, I was good at spending.

I had a habit of sleeping while eating. Sometimes, I used to doze off right into the plate filled with food. He always had a sense of duty to make sure that he lifted my head from the plate (holding my hair) and plunged it on to the part of the plate where my mom had served the ‘curry’. I would wake up with an earsplitting shriek. My face would be covered with a thick layer of gravy, burning eyes, blurred vision, an absolutely filled nose and partially filled lungs. I thought of numerous ways to slaughter him. But, neither did I have the courage nor strength to deal with him physically.

“Every little dog has its day”. One fine day, my mom made a special preparation of rice and mutton similar to ‘Biriyani’. I like less spicy and less oily food in spite of the fact that I am a south Indian. I often demanded such customized delicacies. She didn’t mind as long as I devoured every bit of it. There were not many fans for these custom foods at home. My brother loved spicy food; when I say spicy, I mean it.. So spicy, that the bloody tissue would catch fire. That probably might be the reason for my affinity towards non-spicy food.

White Biriyani (please suggest a better name if you have one) was ready. I prepared myself to pamper my taste buds with this yummy food.It was hot. I dug the plate in search of mutton pieces. I felt the mutton pieces were playing hide and seek. Gotcha!!! One fine piece of mutton. I threw it into my mouth. It was not my typical non-spicy kind of a piece. It disclosed a woman’s immense affection towards her elder son. “Make sure that you don’t swallow the food till you have chewed it 32 times”, I remembered my granny. I counted. 32, 33, 47, 62 89. I gave up. I kept back the piece into the plate. I do not know what a piece of mutton that was! How much ever one chewed, it would still remain in tact. I was about to throw it when my brother came in running after his playground routine. I was sure he would place his dirty hand on my plate. I covered all the other mutton pieces nicely and kept that special piece in a way that would grab his attention. I had guessed it right!!“MOM!!! How have you prepared mutton??? No salt, no spice, NOTHING!!!”, he roared. Mom was surprised. “Are you crazy??? How spicy do you want me to make it??”. I ran to the toilet. I didn’t have the guts to laugh in front of him. How could someone expect a mutton piece, that was chewed 89 times, to be spicy??? I laughed my head off.

We both shared the common interest in traveling. Probably for the same reason, we became very close as we grew young. We traveled throughout south India on a very frequent basis. We became more of friends than brothers. We used to talk about all those witty things and laughed so hard that food came out of our noses. He was my ATM when I went to Bangalore to pursue my studies. He bought me branded apparel, an expensive cellphone (which was stolen 3 months later in a BMTC bus on my way to college) and provided me with pocket money which made me popular in college. He is happily married now. I thought that would change his attitude, but it didn’t.

“The face, structure and life style of Cochin is changing rapidly”, my brother said. That was really strange. We never discussed such topics. “Great news!!! So what??”. “The government is initiating a flyover project which would run right over our house.” “A FLYOVER??? I do not want to stay under a flyover!!!” “Nor does the government”, he said with a smile. I got it. I am not gonna find my home where it was. This news hit me hard. I can never be home wherever I find myself.

SCARY BIRTHDAY!!!

It was 8.00pm. I was engrossed in my favorite reality show. One reason I like reality shows are that they usually feature ordinary people instead of professional actors unlike the stereotypical soaps. I felt the pulsation on my bed followed by the standard Nokia tone, the next moment. I jumped on to the phone and attended the call in a fraction of a second without even checking who was calling. I wasn’t expecting any important call nor was I punishing any miscall prankster. It was just that due to some reasons (which I would not want to discuss here) my outgoing calls were barred. So I couldn’t afford to miss any of the calls.

Hey!! Wassup?? I assigned the perceived tone to relative positions on a musical scale based primarily on the frequency of vibration. I heard a high pitched voice which would fall on any deaf ears. Two harmful effects of Screaming; it ruins singing voice, it turns the listener oblivious.. That was Hero.. She delivered around 120 words in the next thirty seconds to my already deafened left ear. I couldn’t grasp anything. I prompted her to say it again.

Her slower and shorter version was something like this..

“Actually, its my friend’s birthday so I wanted to give her a surprise by getting a cake to her place at 12 so that she would be happy for which I need your help as my other friends are busy with something or the other so I want you to go with me to her place to wish her a very happy birthday but one problem is that she might sleep before 12 and what if she did not open the door??? You will go with me right??

WOW!! That was FAST!! I wondered how many litres of O2 and CO2 her lungs might be bringing in and out per second. Anytime!! I said. But I am not here for social service, I added. I was offered a party instantly but at the beginning of the next month. Her plans were AWESOME!! Except that she had not taken permission from her mom to go out in the night till the last minute. I liked her confidence.

She came in her Santa (that’s what she calls her scooty). Santa was an amazing little thing which moved like a UFO whenever she rode and like a bullocart whenever I did.
They shared a very strong chemistry and were made for each other.

I somehow managed to guide her way to Koramangala 1st block. She asked for a landmark, nothing came to my mind other than Pingara Bar. Guess what, she waited for me right in front of the bar at 10.PM. I forgot to get the match box/lighter though she had reminded atleast thrice. She carried a yummy chocolate cake and candles from the bakery right next to her house.

We reached Preethi’s (not the real name) house at around 10 30. I carried the cake, fixed the candles on the cake and lit it like Isaac who carried wood for his own sacrifice. I did not foresee my coming fate at that point of time.

We opened gate slowly and entered the veranda. There she revealed her master plan. “I would hide somewhere you go knock the door with the cake”. NO WAYS. I’m not gonna do it, said I. We had fixed atleast 20 candles on that limited size cake and it burned like furnace. I could feel the heat on my face. I had no other option than listening to her at that instance. I walked slowly towards the door. I stopped there for a moment, I prayed, My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass away from me. One last time, I turned back to to find out if we could come up with a plan B. But she had just disappeared. I ran out of the gate with the “burning” cake. I found her standing at the end of the street half a kilometer away. I sensed something was wrong and something terrible was going to happen. I was a perfect stranger to Preethi and was standing at her door at around 11 with a burning stove (that’s what it looked like from far) to wish her birthday. I cursed the moment I agreed to going with her.

I knocked the door. “KAUN???” I did not open my big mouth. She partially opened the window repeated the same question with a surprise. Just wanted to say Happy Birthday.. I said confidently. “ONE MINUTE..” She replied and closed the window. Pure adrenaline coursed through my veins, never in my life had I been so scared. I thought, either she was calling police to report a thug standing at her door steps or she had gone to the kitchen to find something solid to knock me down.

She opened the door slowly and looked at the messed up cake and then at me. Happy Birthday.. Thank you… But do I know you.. I was not listening to her but trying to figure out if she was carrying some weapon in her hand. I waited for the entry of hero..

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!! I saw her jumping out of a bush.. Next moment, I witnessed a festival of kisses and hugs which went on for around 25 minutes. We cut the cake with the waxy icing and sang “Happy birthday to you”. The kisses and hugs resumed again but didn’t last for long. Preethi thanked me for making her birthday so ‘Special’. It was indeed SPECIAL..

On our way back hero revealed that she met her just two months back. Is she crazy??? Or so damn sweet???

Well, let me know your thoughts..

SAME WATER BABA!!!

It was dinner time!! I took out my steel plate similar to the one found in South Indian restaurants to serve a full meal. My hypothalamus released hormones that targeted the receptors in the liver. I was so hungry I could eat a horse. I ran. Monday, reminded me of the veg menu on the calendar. Better to survive on cow’s food than die of starvation. Good old days back at home, where I used to have non veg food 7 days a week flashed through my mind. Two things I hate; waiting in queues, lay blame on me for something I have not done. It was a pretty long queue. The member of staff serving at table struggled to serve the rice as sticky as a Gecko. The Aloo gobi masala was burnt like coal, daal was as viscous as H2O. The papad was as flexible as a Chinese gymnast, lemon pickle as bitter as a traitor’s kiss. In short, my life sucked at the ‘Kalluri’ hostel. It cost me two drops of tears, and I was out of hostel. I used my papa’s debit card to withdraw the amount he had allocated to rent a house. I suffered from third degree tan searching for a double bedroom house within my budget. I still did not consult a broker. Finally, I found my dream home. I was in fact thrilled to shift with two of my classmates. I sang, Cause Im as free as a bird now, and this bird youll never change. And this bird you can not change. Lord knows, I cant change. Lord help me, I cant change. For some reason, my landlady was very caring and she never missed an opportunity to express her affection towards us. We were a bunch of losers who considered ourselves great for some reason mysterious even to us. So we had derived multiple theories around her fondness towards us. One was that she had found one among us as a groom for her daughter. Second, she did not want to return the deposit we had paid for the house. Third, she wanted us to get converted to join her church. “Where is the rent Baba..”. I cannot tell you how exasperating it was when she called me BABA.. It sounded like I am a Sufi saint or a Hindu ascetic who was older than her great grandpa. There was not even a month when we paid the rent on time. We used to come home late night and jumped the gate to avoid her. It appeared that she was more concerned about us than collecting the rent. Our conduct did not change her approach. She still brought us fruits from her church on Sundays. The safety and accessibility of drinking-water are major concerns throughout the world. We were also victims. We did not have money enough to buy 'Bisleri' and were too lazy to boil water. We raised this issue with our “mother”. What baba!! You should have told me earlier.. I will give you drinking water everyday.. HAPPY??? Our overwhelming and Filmi gestures made her face glow with joy.. We giggled our hearts out!! She kept her promise and provided us with water whenever we approached her. But there were days when we almost died of thirst. By the time we reached home, aunty would have slept. We had no other choice than waiting till the morning.. Still we did stick on to the rule that no one drinks water from the tap. After all, “It is health that is real wealth and not pieces of gold and silver.” One year passed!! Whosever room this is should be ashamed! At last, we saw a landlady in her. We protested; Our version was that ‘we are bachelors, we live it the bachelor’s way”. BARBARIANS!!! That’s WHAT YOU ARE!!! One more month and you’re gone.. She walked away.. We looked at each other as if the other one was blameworthy. We were thirsty again. We waited for sometime to make sure that we gave her enough time to bring down the wrath. Aunty.. Water.. a melodious chorus.. Aunty came out.. She looked normal. What happened?, She asked.. Water, aunty.. Why don’t you use the tap?? She asked politely.. We need drinking water aunty, we were even more polite.. I couldn’t believe my ears.. I heard the most SHOCKING!! Words in my life.. SAME WATER BABA!!!…

My Band's New Song

He is running wild amok
through the streets filled with smoke
the people whom he have slain
only for his own gain
now he is being slain in the spirit
choking in his own vomit

The streets are falling short
for the feet that ruled them once

The hare has gone amok
he is charging for havoc
he got no time to wait
no time to wait for spring
the hounds that he unleashed
they killed those who were unsullied
now they are hiding in the warrens
chased on by the hares

He spilled the bloods of just
that was his only lust
he owned the nights
now he may see no lights
the day cheated on him like a slut
while he was in his rut
the drain that fathered him
got the best of him
the ditch that he was born
now got filled with his own blood
he who comes from what
he has to go back to that

Diwali

Right from my childhood i hated jackhammers, bulldozers or anything that made substantial noise, rather pollution. Ear shattering bombs during Diwali is no exception. Subjected to 45 decibels of of noise, an average person cannot sleep. Hearing damage begins at 85 decibels. I always felt pity for the infants during this season.

The lyricist of Brown Trout (AKA Jim Morrison) rang me while polishing off Lasagne and Spaghetti at The Sweet Chariot Café, Koramangala on this Diwali eve (Of course, from someone else's plate). I started from home carrying a listless mood to meet Hero's best friend who had just landed in namma Bengaluru (from aamchi Mumbai) and also to collect her (Hero) Austrian made Jumbo size classic guitar + the coffin. Guitar was tempting and the only inspiration. Promises are like babies: easy to make, hard to deliver. Losers make promises they often break. Never mind, its just my peeves gushing out.

Stupid cupid was never my fav song (nor Mandy Moore, fav singer) until she (the Mumbai girl) sang it with a belch which I accidently captured inside the walls of the cylindrical menu card.. Isn’t it strange to embrace a song characterized by lucidity and a teen-oriented pop singer against my all time favs like Led Zepp, Ozzy, Metallica or AC/DC? Jim would have kicked my @$$ if I had told him.

One good thing about hero is that all her friends are incredibly sweet, atleast the ones I know.

My cell rang again. I guess Jim (the real name is not worth telling!!) was getting impatient. Where the F*#@ ??... Will be there in 2 mins.. on the way, I said. He always underwent an emotional constipation till the moment he shared his newly inscribed song with me. I took a rick with the money borrowed from my best friend. She looked taller in her brand new skin tight jean.

The moment I stepped into the rick, the stink reminded me of a cheap local bar. I don’t know if the entire universe conspired to fulfill Jim’s desire or if it was the festive mood and the “Spirit” of the driver; I reached home in two mins.

I thought it was the beginning of a usual Saturday evening…