From a TV Serial Phobic cum Maniac

A weekday in my life is more or less same usually. I came back yet another day in the evening and dropped myself mechanically before the TV. My mother was(also mechanically) screaming at me as usual asking me to eat. I ignore. My ears are used to that set of frequency landing in them. She swears. I still ignore. I am meditating upon the dialogues delivered by the main protagonist to the villain. Even the worst enemy in her life receives the most loving words and patience from the ever calm heroine of our serial. She refuses to be strict, rude or even straightforward to the ghastly bloody fools in her life. The villain tells her horrible things and she has no change in her facial expression (not even a hint of impatience). A plain face. She must be a saint. My mother gives up and then I get up during the commercial break and change and freshen up. I come back and eat something and again settle down (or lie down) in the sofa right in front of the screen.

Now another of those females… First of all in the mostly male dominated movies and serials, I don’t really realize how females started getting the most important roles. Anyway since they started realizing the importance (or required indulgence) of women, they hurt their image with her most idiotic responses in all situations. In serials, everyone has pre-marital and post-marital affairs, everyone seems to have 2 spouses somehow (accidentally or intentionally), and all children are too mature than their age to shatter their parents to pieces with their tongues, the grand parents are too old and some great great great grand parents still survive with the healthiest body. For past 3 weeks or so I’m watching them intently and you won’t believe me for what I say. There are these 3 consecutive serials in this channel. The channel has probably rented the city prison for the shooting and tried to get the maximum out of it. They are shooting jail scene in all the 3 prime time serials. All the 3 serials’ heroines are in the prison for something they haven’t done (obviously) and then all the three have been fighting a useless (with actually no solid point in any hearing) court case with useless lawyers (same set on all the 3 serials again), 3 rented rowdies have tried to poison each one of protagonist respectively, all the 3 have left their humanity and goodness and have now decided to fight against the villains now (together!) and the worst of the worst the so powerful and resourceful villains are suddenly being cheated and hit by these once spineless heroines, all of them have the same recording technique where the good (wo)man records the truth using their respectives cellphones from the bad man’s mouth. WHy do you need three serials for the same storyline??? I mean where is the creativity man? If I have the same scenes, same plots, same fights, same sequence of events resulting in same endings, then WHY the hell does someone have to see 3 different serials. It is like a re-telecast with a choice of different genre of heroines.. They all are old enough to be grand-moms and fat, fatter and fattest. They all cry with the same amount of glycerine and smile only in the serial’s startup song.

I have become this fanatically TV phobic but still sitting and staring at the screen till 10 at least. I swear that I am not a couch potato at all but when everyone around is watching that stupid, monotonous, gruesome, irritating colorful screen, you are left with lesser options. Actually no one is watching them... I prefer to bring my laptop to the living room and watch that screen for the same number of hours submitting my lamentations to my blog than seeing those stupid ‘human-like’ white/pink color tinted wax models doing crazy things just because they are paid some 5 digit money. I pity the actors sometimes and also feel angry towards them for being a part in ruining our peaceful lives. The actors in the serials don’t even probably know what their role is supposed to portray. They simply clad those childhood clothes and bathe with the filthy make up and come for the shots and throw up the lines they are asked to by heart. There is hardly any lip sync. They probably just chew some chewing gum instead of trying to speak those tough lines and the camera man covers up the scene and frame by shooting the roof, furniture, clothes, hairdo (even the hideous bindis) and the general art work done by the art team.

The rate at which the television is overtaking (taking over) our lives is mind blowing and soon there will be a stage when people will ask the TV wallahs for solutions to their problems in life (little knowing that they are the root cause of every problem). I mean those customized TV serials when supposedly you write a letter to them describing your issue to those guys and they will take that problem as a theme for the next episode. Something like that would be interesting. But here all of the most unusual and irrational issues crop up like conceiving on the eve of marriage (the father of the baby could be the bridegroom’s brother…yuck), loosing your most important family- property documents, marrying another girl ‘by mistake’, someone trying to kill you mistaking you for someone else, you being the only target for the leader in the industry (although you have just made a startup…. and as if he has no job to give a damn for an insect), a son of a family business tycoon loosing money and coming to streets because of the single lose in his first ever contract (as if the father bothered to even let him handle that much of an important contract), every other guy being a hi-fi rowdy and their children being bigger hi-fi ‘yo’ rowdies . I mean common, grow up. You don’t see those things in your everyday life! How much of fake things can you produce? Even the most family oriented good stories finally end up as those commercial stupid bragging extravagant set business serials.. A lower middle class family serial will also end up somehow(like the daughters getting married to rival business mans) ending up in those rich bungalows with artificial set ups and people sleeping with their diamond sets on.

I am in no anti-television bureau or anything but seeing the way the families are getting addicted to the television gives me a jolt or a fit sometimes. When I see the girl in the TV serial cheating her parents and meeting the same boy who has the most negative character in the serial, I move sides on my well settled couch feeling uneasy. What must be running in my parents’ mind when they see all this? How will my father be growling inside seeing the arrogant girl cheating her parents! I immediately get up and go in. My blood boils seeing such serials. What if they show some normal ‘human’ girl who actually goes to school, college and then to work and has those usual problems at work which every one of us has and show us how to deal with them intelligently without earning foes at the work place!!! Why cant the directors and script writers oblige us with such things! I bet those things will work. After all we all study, we all work, we all have problems like saving problems, human relationship problems, communication problems, how to start problems etc. I simply can’t understand why we need to see SUCH serials!! Not only that. When in the prime time serial, the mother coolly steals her own son’s money, sells her own daughter in law’s jewels to get new jewels for her daughter(of course without telling them), how would a daughter in law or a mother in law feel? I feel so impatient and irritated on such crazy unnecessary serials!

Gone are the days when we used to get up early on Sundays and get ready (take bath early!!! And eat breakfast unusually earlier than usual) just to see Ramayana(later Mahabharata) followed by Mickey mouse. Aha those days were heavenly. I can bask in the memories still. In the evening we had hours to spend with parents, family friends, friends (yes we had friends….which is more or less getting an alien word for kids), relatives and neighbors (another to-be alien word). We played all sorts of games like ‘Pathar phod’, ‘Lock and key’, ‘Airoplane’, ‘Barbie doll’s family’, ‘Langdi tang’, ‘Poshampa bhai poshampa’, the list goes on and you wont even realize hours passing by.

Why don’t they make live shows which actually inspire the younger generation? They have all the time for Nach Baliyes and Bigg Bosses, but imagine a similar show with similar celebrities doing a live work with some street children, animals, mentally challenged children, women who struggle with their mental capacity and cycles of their life, men who are alcoholic and trying to cope with life and millions of such issues….real issues. Why doesn’t a producer produce a reality show where in the celebrities simply dance/sing/act or entertain such people? Are they not part of the deserving audience? Are’nt they human beings? Come on people. Grow up. Come out of your prams and face the REAL world. The world is not a Page 3 column. The media should be ashamed of giving them more footage and encouraging them instead of giving them pieces of their minds. Working with an NGO has become just a fashion statement for the people in the media and the entertainment industry today. Anyone who dares to do something different for the people is tagged a ‘show off’! Different people like Revathy, Ranjini Kant, Sushmita sen and the like are treated as outcasts and looked as documentary items… I don’t know where my lamenting will end up. But this is a heart felt agony from a common TV fan.

I would also like to admit that there are some good creative shows which charge you up for the week ahead and challenge your creative capability. That being a separate blog for future, I end this up now with some wishes for them to improve or they'll get more of this crap from me.

The Floating experience….

Its 09:54 a.m…. hot cardamom tea in front of me sending off aroma with the steam, a dialcomm yelling out somewhere, the A/C seems like its been in a deep slumber humming soothingly. Project is over. Contemplating whether to study, google, browse, send forwards (which I don’t like), play minesweeper, call up my friend who is a housewife and doesn’t have much to do either or..... So I leave for the library. That will serve me 2 purposes, reading and dozing as well... if possible.

Homework

I remember those days vividly still. I would come running out to the door hearing the scooter's noise. Of the thousands of scooters running inside the colony, I knew which brought me back my dad. As soon as he came I would shout mixed words in a childish glee with a huge toothy smile. Coming home was always a thing my dad looked forward to as we welcomed with squeals of laughter and joy. He would go to ship for 15 days shift, which were confused, and troubled days for mother as we showered her with so many unanswerable questions. When he came back, I would try revolting by not talking to him for some time (maximum 5 minutes) trying to pretend to be cross with him. And then I would laugh uncontrollably with him, jump, dance and climb all over him and would not let him sit down at all! Every day was festive when dad was home.
He taught me rhymes with almost all famous Hindi/Tamil movie tunes making it easy to by-heart all the rhymes (I still remember some of the most complex ones). He made up funny, exciting songs for every occasion through which he taught me lots of important lessons like 'u should always eat home cooked food made by Amma' and the likes... you know... I used to sit on his warm and cozy lap and listen to the innumerable songs and stories he had.

When I was ill, I used to wake him up every 5 minutes asking..

"What are you doing?"

He would reply: "Im doing homework".

"Will your teacher scold you if you don't do it?"

"Maybe!"

And one day I asked him finally...

"Who is your teacher?"

"Ajay uncle"(name changed to protect privacy ;) )

That was the day when there was created an uneasiness in me when I saw uncle. I knew deep inside that he could punish, scold or probably even thrash my dad's knuckles!! Uncle's daughter was my sister's classmate. Again I had this uneasiness with her too thinking that when her dad could be my dad's teacher, then probably she could scold my sister too. Too bad! Teachers should be abolished I thought. I was happy though that Amma dint have teachers... Disappointed I let him 'do his homework' and slept on his lap. He allowed me to crawl in and be there and I kept looking at his homework. Strange scribbling he did there ...Worse than me!! I thought only I scribbled like a hen picking on worms. But then..! anyway those were the kinda days I had, the table full of huge maps by a Geologist dad who would bring work to home (and then scribble on them) to be with his children.

Suddenly I came to terms with the present and woke up with a jerk just to realize that I was in the company bus that had almost reached my stop. I was feeling so fresh after those nostalgic memories. My colleague sitting next to me was glaring at me as if two horns were peeping out of my head. I excused myself and got down from the bus.
I reached home, and after dinner sat down going through some work related documents. My dear father sat near me and enquired lovingly;

"What are you doing?"

Without even bothering to look up, almost completely drowned in the document, I replied, "It is a document that I have to understand and prepare a report"...u know..

He proceeded enthusiastically: "What is it about?"

"It is related to my project. It is about ...." And I explained a bit with some strain.

"Ok" and he got up and after some time(no idea exactly how long) he gave me a glass of milk and asked again "How long will you stay awake?"

"Don't know. Will try and finish soon"

"Here. Have this milk. "

"Eeeeee! I don't want that. Please pa..."

"Ok so how is this report going to help you..........."

After a couple of explanations, I quit and said, "oh dad! you wont understand please... it's a bit complicated.....its a new technology that..bla bla"

Next day in the bus I thought about that childhood incident and my behavior last night. My dad... at the busiest sphere of his career with presentations, meetings and seminars going on the whole day, had the energy and patience to come down and explain things to a 4 year old in the way she understood. On the other hand, there was 'Me' whose work pressure was nothing in front of my father's stress level in that age, who could not bother to even reply properly to my aged father. Shey! The incident had left a heavy residue of guilt and shame.

Thinking such, I went to work with a heavy heart thinking of spending some quality time with him in the evening. When I returned, the first thing he rained me with "did you make the report? What did your PL say? Hope you managed to make it properly...." I told him that everything went just fine and decided to explain to him everything today. I changed, freshened up and sat down to explain to him about it when suddenly he said, "I read that document. It is so interesting to know that information security has come such a long way. We had similar thing implemented in.........."

cosmopol-IT-an

Celebrations and Joy...when almost whole of the country celebrates the victory of the good over the bad!!. Well Im not goign to give a grandma story about Dussehra and why it is celebrated in India.
Just that when I saw the Dussehra pictures sent by my company's Admin dept, it struck me that I feel so good to be from this country. Ive noticed many of my colleagues and friends in IT industry posting beautiful blogs that talk of many things and those who've gone to some other country who start blogging about how our country is different from others.. They start realizing the good (and even bad) things once they're there. I happened to read many of such blogs, which stir some thoughts in my mind about how multi-ethnic we are becoming.
Not that I'm alone, away from parents and family, resulting in such a blabering and craving for my culture. Of course I'm with my parents and also had my own share of Dussehra celebrations, Navaratri Golus, Vijayadashmi, Saraswati Pooja etc, but maybe Im just lucky to realize this while Im here and not after going to a far away land. Its not that this is all new either but when you see everyone at your workplace wearing bright colorful traditional Ghagras, Jewellery, shining bindis, Kurtas, Duppattas, anklets and swirling, forgetting the whole world and dancing their shoes off, you feel somehow re-energized. Although I dint join the fun, I could clearly make out with the noise coming from the floor above.
I realize that its so difficult for the people coming from their small remote hometowns not having seen much of the world and getting placed in big companies resulting in relocation, trying to get in terms with the alien culture. It is stranger with a new language, lack of respect in other states for fellow-citizens from other states, new food habits, and sometimes-unfriendly surroundings. But all that is forgotten and gone when these festivals come. I mean almost all that is. Be it Ganpathy celeberations in Maharashtra, Durga pooja in Bengal, Gujarat, and other states, Onam celebrations in Kerala or common festivals like Id, Holi, Diwali or Christmas. These festivals were highly regional but now celebrated and anticipated by everyone or at least all IT professionals for sure. And when the companies celebrate traditional days, it just urges even the most sleepy introverts to open up their shells and join hands with people from other cultures. Truly a pure cosmopolitan industry IT Industry is and it is helping our generation in mingling and knowing other cultures from our own country. Else which Kashmiri would have known about the Ganpati celebrations, which Maharashtrian would have known about Onam and which malayalee would have done Garba(of course except peopel in defense forces who would travel the length and breadth of the country). Probably that's why someone said, 'Reality is stranger than fiction.' Who would have thought of such a transformation in just a few years! So with all other good thigns, one more good thing IT has doen is that it has lessened the religional and regional wars... This revolution is a good sign for a progressive nation for sure!

Dog’s life :-(

With sudden fire alarms going on and everyone running madly, we were suddenly confused as to what was happening in this otherwise peaceful, non-happening, old and grumpy looking building. I called up the Security’s extension and asked what was happening and why people were running here and there suddenly. He himself confused came pat with a reply that there was a bomb scare in the building. A shrill ran through my spine and I was imagining the whole building go up in a blast and the consequences that will emerge. I felt as if my mind simply stopped for a minute. The security personnel had hung up the phone but I was there still holding the receiver in my quivering hands and forehead full of sweat. I never thought I’d be such a coward in such a situation but I dint know how people reacted to and reproduced such statements… “There’s a bomb here!!!” So I simply kept the receiver down and repeated the sentence to my 5 more puzzled colleagues in the room. Everyone shrieked their throats out and ran away. I followed them baffled, not knowing how else I should have delivered that message.

There, we saw a group of people with 2 huge dogs who had come for searching the bomb. I was pleased with the quick reaction of my peers in this unlike me. I always knew that they were trained well. At that moment I saw them. The people around them were calling them ‘Tiger’ and ‘Lily’. They were simply magnificent beasts I had ever witnessed in my life. Not that I was an expert in canine species, but I had never before felt awed looking at dogs! In a city like Mumbai, where Bomb threats (and actual blasts) were directly proportionate to number of movies that released, these poor creatures must be having a frantic schedule. What with those odd email threats and bomb blasts in Mumbai’s trains last month, I wondered what a day must be for them (of course these specialized ones). Lost in such thoughts (even otherwise since the call, I was quite stupefied) I could almost sense its eyes crying for help. They were quick in their jobs and soon they found out that it was a hoax! They were all discussing how ruthless anyone can be to create such a rumour.

Everything around me started swinging and getting blurred except ‘Tiger’,’Lily’ and myself. I couldn’t believe that they were ACTUALLY talking and I could ACTUALLY understand it!!!

Tiger: “ wooof .......woof ......whine…whine ……. What a waste of time. Look at me. With numerous threats coming in, life has become frantic and stressful. This is called getting wasted for nothing…

Lily replied: Really!! These crazy humans create bombs and then give threats to each other and make us run for their lives. After my weeks of K9 bomb and drugs detection training, they took me for an urgent opening. I joined with so many dreams and look what I get! 3 meals a day with an extra bone per week along with the reward of a torn rubber ball or toy to play for sniffing a bomb.

Tiger : So much of recruitment is going on for us "ball-crazy” dogs. We could easily switch jobs, but what to do of the bond?

Lily: Yes! I also like only the playing part of it. That’s what makes us stay here still Tiger. Else I would have stopped sniffing which would prompt them to throw me out easily(so that i can join somewhr else). Having to sniff more than 1000 items that are used to make bombs, it is a challenging job indeed, with after all a rubber ball for a reward!!

Tiger: But then ironically we hardly get the time to play!! I get irritated when after running for hours, when we do sniff any bomb we cant even dig it out (as per our nature goes).

Lily: Good for us Tiger! After all this pain the last thing one would want is a blast in the mouth. I am worried about my career. What with so much competition now, that even bees have started sniffing and they’re preferred for sniffing drugs now a days.

Tiger: I hope I get selected for the 12-week bomb-detection program that is scheduled for next month in the US. Ive never been to US of A. At least I will get some onsite opportunity.

Lily: Yeah! Ur right. The package also seems to be better there as they are getting some good quality lamb meat!!! (slurrrp) compared to the cheap thrown away chicken(not even a good hen) bones that we get here for the pains we take.. I also heard that they get all sorts of other excellent dog food there.

Tiger: Moreover, the job there is more of a sophisticated one too!! You remember? Bob? Who joined with us here? He was sent to US post 9/11(most of us were rejected as they said we lack the drive to smell-check an endless stream of cars and trucks). It seems now he has been trained to sniff out even potentially threatening telephone and email communications.

Lily : Oh ya! I heard that the client there has made so many of us sit in the telephone exchanges! Most of them had joined with us here. We were busy in our bomb sniffing when they went for the selection process. It seems that to join the ranks of those defending Washington's ferries and ports against terrorists, they are expected to demonstrate that they love to play with a rubber toy (like us).

Tiger: Oh is it? I missed that selection process. I felt bad when they all left leaving us two here. But last week I heard that they’re all quite depressed too. They rarely get to go out in the open as we do here and feel very home sick and tired.

Lily: And moreover he hasn’t yet found his companion. So he’s sad for that too …

Tiger: At least he gets to see some of the most dazzling glamorous good poodles, Pomeranians and Pekingese in his working place (unlike us who get to see only the street kinds).

Lily: But poor Bob hardly gets time for those poodles of his. It seems they're expected to pull four 10-hour shifts a week, scan for the ingredients that make up more than 1,000 explosives and sit -- under no circumstances dig like us-- when they sniff out something.

Tiger: Yes. Ur right. It's a lot to ask of a mere dog. The dog has to have a lot of stamina. They're asking us to work for hours on end. My life certainly doesn’t have that job security and peace of mind.

Lily: I wish we had a pay revision and bonus for festivals. I would love to eat some good delicacies in the Mc. Goofy someday. Waking up at odd hours and not able to dig for your own nature’s call, is not the most respectable decent life after all.

Tiger: Ya Lily!! That’s why they probably call it a ‘Dog’s Life’… hs hr azc agza vd are mns …whine…whine ........wooof .......woof

I suddenly felt someone shaking my shoulders wildly. Just to realize that it was my colleague who was currently and yelling shouting at me all shocked about where I was lost. She called me back into the office as nothing was found and they all were terribly irritated with this action of some fool. Later they were all discussing about the 2 fabulous lustrous dogs who were looking at each other and whining …….

I looked up suddenly and jumped up to say "Hey No! they were talking to each other about their work problems!!” Everyone looked up at me with wide opened eyes… I laughed and said “Come on!! I was just kidding.” :)

Candy floss...

I was sitting late in the night again in front of my system, which had become the major part of my life now. My life had become extremely monotonous and uneventful. But the day I met ‘Cheeku’ my life had changed dramatically. Cheeku was this spark in my life which had a motive planned by God. But now Cheeku was not there but having him living with me for 2 weeks had rejuvenated my soul completely.

It all happened one day when I was going to my office yet again on a weekend. I was traveling in a local ST bus which was more rickety that a cot with 3 legs. After much grumbling and making faces, I finally managed to sit on the conductor’s seat, which he reluctantly gave after my continuous miserable looks. I was almost reaching my destination when I heard someone brawling and shouting. I strained to look back and saw a young boy and a man looking as if they were 2 scared mice trying to get free from a trap… and few men yelling at them. I did not understand the scene in the beginning. Slowly, I heard the other man (one of the mice) saying in broken English, “I take ticket baba. Purse and phone someone take away from me… my ‘babai’ phone. Please check na”. Then it struck me that he had been pick pocketed and probably dint understand Hindi or Marathi. From my place I could hardly see their faces. At least double the people were standing in the bus than the available seats. The man was crying and holding on to the child closely and balancing 2 –3 cartons together with his leg. Clearly he had taken tickets till the last stop, but some thug had robbed him and got down in the previous stop (as is usual in Mumbai). The guy he was talking to or rather pleading to check people around was trying to explain that the pickpocket has probably got down in the previous stop. But when the man was reluctant to get down, some 7 to 8 guys asked the conductor to stop the bus and literally threw him and the cartons out. The child and the man started screaming and the child almost got trampled under the big monsters around him. The people around were so rude and ruthless that they dint even allow the child to get down. He was now hiccupping. All this I was witnessing as a silent audience shamelessly having no other option, as it is quite common in Mumbai.

When the kid was crying endlessly, people started cursing him without even a remote clue of any guilt. Then suddenly he became breathless and that was the time when something literally slapped me hard on my face and made me rush to him. I carried him and stopped the bus. I did not bother for anyone as I dint consider them worth bothering. Almost near my workplace, I knew a big hospital nearby. I quickly summoned a rickshaw and hurried to the hospital. There I rushed the kid to the emergency and after around a half hour of struggle, I was called in by the doctor and briefed about the situation. The child was under tremendous shock and was facing trouble in breathing maybe because of some previous medical history. I went inside the room and saw him sleeping peacefully. The tiny stature, the fragile built of the kid melted my heart and I felt wetness near my eyes. I dint even realize that my eyes were continuously pouring. I went near him, kneeled down and touched his tiny hands. I looked at his innocent face and was scared that he might wake up at the slightest sound and will know about his current location and start missing his father (assuming that the man was his father). I sat there for another 1 hour 40 minutes when he opened his eyelids…He looked at me peacefully and asked me ‘meeru yavaru’(who are you) in a total charming voice. I knew Telugu. So I understood but kept quite. He mumbled ‘maamaiya’… I understood that as ‘Uncle’ in Telugu. I asked him his name and he whispered in a low voice… ‘Cheeku’. I melted completely. I told him not to fear and took him to the nearest McDonald’s. He had mixed feelings of excitement as well as fear, naughtiness as well as timidity, speed as well as hesitation in his walk. I told him everything that happened in my broken Telugu and was surprised to see his confidence in his talk at such a young age. He must have been hardly 4 or 5 but talked like a grown up. After a hearty meal, I asked him if he would come with me to my house. He hesitated and after a long silence, he nodded and said ‘only if you promise me to search my uncle”. I approved and took him happily to my house where I lived with two more ladies of my age. They were surprised about the incident and agreed of my action. One of my flat mates lent her shirt to him, which was almost till his knee. He looked like a huge teddy bear. We ate and played with him till 11 in the night. After he slept, we 3 discussed our POA (Plan of Action) for finding out his uncle.

The next day we gave a notice in the local newspaper and informed the police. Then after a load of questions, we came to know that Cheeku had come here with his maternal uncle to meet his parents after a year. He had been with his grandmother since last year as his father was struggling for a job and did not want it to affect the child. Now after a year he was going to meet his father. One year back he had been with his parents. He couldn’t recollect much but just said few things that he remembered. He talked of some big bridge with lots of dirty water below, of a big police station near his house with lot of police vans and many things which we dint quite take seriously as we did not really believe a child’s memory.

Thankfully my flat mate was on a night shift, which facilitated us in taking care of him by turns. Then after a futile effort of 2 weeks, one weekend we went to a nearby lake and were playing and screaming our hearts out after so many years… After college one rarely gets to go back to the playful mode. Thanks to Cheeku, we were having blast of a time. But after some time, I got tired and bought some candyfloss for everyone and we all sat down on the bench. Then Cheeku gradually started talking about his mother. He told that they used to go to such lakes every Sunday and his father would make him play on all the rides. His mother would similarly get tired soon and then buy candyfloss and they all used to return home late in the night. Soon he also said that near his house there were lots of lakes.

Late that night after everyone slept, I was still not able to sleep. I was quite disturbed and not getting sleep. Something was bothering me and I did not quite realize what it was. I went to the kitchen groping in the dark and drank some water. Came back and tried sleeping. No success. Then suddenly something struck me and I got up with a jump and switched on the light. Took out my diary and wrote few points and then feeling happy with myself, and slept in few minutes.

When I woke up I was clear about my plan for the day. Cheeku was jumping and playing all around with a balloon that we had bought the previous day. I discussed my plan to my 2 flat mates and they were very surprised at how it struck me and not them. One of them Neha was convinced that my intuition was almost correct. We asked Cheeku about some description of his parents. He said the usual things. After lots of futile attempts to make him remember Neha suddenly jumped and ran into the room and came back with a piece of rag. When she brought it close, I realized it was a small, not so old photo with a man, woman and a baby. She said she got it the locket that he was wearing. She had removed it to put a new thread for it. Neha left the house at around 10. Back home I packed up Cheeku’s things and got him ready. I cooked and we had a heavy brunch. Then we went to a nearby mall and did some shopping. We came back at around 4:30 p.m. and soon I slept. I was in no mood to play anything with him. So gave a coloring book to him which he happily started coloring. In around an hour my other flat mate also came. We were having tea when Neha came back at around 6 in a cab. We watched from the balcony. She seemed to have somebody with her. We were looking at each other surprised and confused because she dint have any relatives and we never brought home any ‘friends’. Her co passengers got down and were coming towards the gate when suddenly Cheeku started shouting and screaming with joy and ran towards the main door. He ran out of the house despite our futile attempts to stop him lest he fell and broke his beautiful little nose. But he did not stop and ran down the stairs from the 3rd floor till the ground floor and almost ran into the man. The man was shocked for a second on the sudden bump. But when he saw Cheeku’s face, he was overwhelmed with joy and hugged him tightly. We two although were getting what was happening still went down and brought them to our flat and after they sat, I recognized one of them as the same person in the bus who was with Cheeku.

They were 2 men and a lady apparently who were Cheeku’s parents and Uncle. Neha explained that my guess that Cheeku’s house was somewhere in Thane area was correct and she had shown the photo to a constable in the Thane police station. The constable smiled and took her to a lane nearby where in a flat Neha found the lady in the picture. Cheeku’s clues that there were many lakes nearby his house, a police station and other small description had given me that intuition. We talked for some while and Cheeku gave his mother the saree and shirt to his father, which we had purchased in the morning. Then they explained that Cheeku’s uncle had somehow come walking till their house after been thrown out of the bus and they were very worried about Cheeku’s safety. Cheeku waved to us as the cab started and promised to come back soon to meet us.
Today I was just pondering, sitting in my seat in the office on a Sunday after 1 complete week of Cheeku’s departure. It was 6 and I walked down the building of my office and past the gate when suddenly heard some shrill voice. I turned back to find Cheeku there waving and running towards me. I was surprised and did not respond for about a minute thinking it was just a dream. When suddenly he pulled my handbag and as I bent down, gave me a hug. I was all smiles and found that his parents had brought him along. He told me that now he will come every Sunday to meet her. I remembered something and crossed the road and called the candy floss hawker and bought for each one of us.

Gopal

The long wait ended when Purva saw her son come running towards her. He looked like none other than the little naughty Krishna about whom she had read numerous stories in her childhood and had prayed to God every day (even in that innocent infancy) that she should get a son like Him. She used to go into a trance for hours and enter a world where she conversed with the God himself. She was a normal young girl who was a successful professional in her career. Her parents got her married and after 5 yeas she had a dark, handsome baby. She had named him ‘Gopal’ seeing his complexion and she assumed to be the most happiest mother on the earth. All her prayers were fulfilled and today after 6 years of his birth, she was waiting for her little kid who was coming out of the hospital.

He was one highly impressive kid. He loved playing cricket and spent all his free time in examining the bat his father had bought him when he came back from an official tour. She had left her job for him as they had got this child after 5 years of marriage and after lot of complications. So she did not dare to take any risk. Although her in laws were also staying with them since after the child was born, still Purva thought it was the most important period of her life with her child and happily chose to be with him. She even did not find it appropriate to let her old in-laws do any work. Still she did all the justice to her decision. She woke her son up at early hours of sunrise and taught him lots of little shlokas and how to worship the Sun God (as He was the only God who was visible to any living or non living being) with Surya Namashkar. He obediently followed her and welcomed this part of the day with a pleasant smile. Then Gopal would do skipping (his favourite exercise) till Purva begged him to stop lest he got tired. Then after her husband went for work, she played with him for hours keeping him active and cooked and read stories to him. He knew all the songs taught by her mother by heart and was quite bright in grasping things taught at his school.

But in teh past one year her life had taken an abrupt 90-degree turn. Since the day she came to know about her son’s illness she had doubled her praying hours and went into trance again after so many years frequently. She had not known about it till many weeks until one day, late in the evening Gopal was weeping non-stop unlike his usual self. Being a 5 year old, he was a boy who rarely resorted to crying as a solution. So she was more worried and being a kid he couldn’t express his thoughts and was repeatedly pointing to his legs. She put some oil and massaged. She was such a lively mother that he started laughing uncontrollably within minutes listening to her stories of ‘Lord Krishna and the demons’ which he had been listening since years now and with whom he had started relating to by now. Then she fed him and made him sleep. This happened on number of occasions and she had started worrying a bit as little Gopal started limping one day. When asked he said he was enacting ‘Shakuni mama’ of Ramayana and both of them laughed heartily on his joke and presence of mind. The same day suddenly Purva noticed a swelling in his leg, below the knee. That’s when she decided she would take him to Dr. Sen who was her father’s friend and their family doctor. She was not a kind who would expect and depend on her husband for all external work. She understood the emergence of situations and acted very smartly in such situations always.

Dr. Sen performed loads of scans, tests and biopsies and finally verbalized their fear as ‘Osteosarcoma’, which she couldn’t even pronounce properly. She was in a state of mixed feelings which majorly consisted of sadness, anxiousness, happiness, tragedy, vengeance (to God as to how her kid could be targeted like this) and felt like an uneducated mother who couldn’t even pronounce her child’s illness. With the fear of being declared as an idiot, the very same day she had found out on the Internet that Osteosarcoma was the sixth most common type of bone cancer in children. It apparently began in the bones and sometimes spreads elsewhere.

They had told her that survival rates of 60% to 80% are possible for the Cancer that hasn't spread beyond the tumor, depending on the success of Chemotherapy. She had felt all her education go in drains when she heard most of the words in the sentence, baffling. Her thoughts went back to the Biology classes when she used to keep making sketches on the last page of her notebook. Needlessly she was repenting all that now. She came to know that they were going to do limb-salvage surgery (thankfully not amputation which involved removing part of a limb along with the Osteosarcoma) in which only the Osteosarcoma would be removed, leaving a gap in the bone that would be filled by a bone graft, which is usually taken from the patient's own pelvis (hipbone).
Now he came running out into her arms and she bent down to collect him in her arms and kissed her endlessly. He was so happy to sit on her lap in the car. They reached home and she handed him the gift she had bought for him. He happily and anxiously tore it open and found a beautiful bat in it…

Vacation

After the long awaited waiting time, I finally boarded the early morning flight for Chennai. It was a familiar ritual though I was dubious about the security checking now a days. Although my parents gave me clear instructions for each second I would be facing, I was just thinking of numerous possibilities that could occur anytime. Nevertheless, the short uneventful journey ended leaving no special traces behind it.

On reaching the destination, there was a lot to look forward to. The humbling surprise of having the eldest members of the family receiving me, my two baby cousins running around, dragging, loitering the whole house, my cousin brother in the hospital who was recovering from an illness, recovering the lost moments of past many months as quick as possible, all in one day did not tire me. Infact my soul was already getting rejuvenated and was looking forward for more in my village ahead for which I was leaving on the second day.

On second day of my short vacation, we left to Madurai wherein we planned to stay over night and then proceed to our village called Sivaganga. In Madurai I was quite excited seeing my cousins (who are ironically my mother’s best friends too) and their daughters. Somehow I have never felt a difference between our ages. Everyone there seems to be of the same generation. I just wished my mother would have joined too.

Early morning I reached the same old village where I have my earliest and fondest memories still floating around in my mind. As soon as I reached I rushed to my favorite small room which cannot be exactly called a store room according to me (although that is what it is) since it is quite close to my heart. Although it might sound ridiculous to have a store room for a favorite place still I can still feel the warmth, safety, the affectionate bear hug and my grandmother’s pleasant scent in the old grandmother’s sarees, some old things and other important ‘petty’ things.

My aunt loaded my head with lot of oil and made me have an oil bath which I was’nt quite familiar of. I don’t quite know the rules of the ‘oil bath game’. I ended up learning lot of things though. Not that I was really dying to take it but still I dint really mind it too. Soon the immediate effect of the oil bath could be easily seen on me. I had a sumptuous meal and did not actually know when to stop eating. Everyone was kind enough to suggest me to go upstairs and ‘take some rest’. They of course knew the effects of the oil bath.

I took a book that I had borrowed from my cousin upstairs and started reading. It was about some young girl in the country side living a life completely on her own doing some sort of animal husbandry, farming, etc. I could visualize everything from the narration of the author. The narration was so pleasant about the country side where she grew lot of fresh vegetables, fruits, had four dogs, cats and had a simple house which was nice and cold even on the hottest summer noon. I almost entered a trance and felt myself in the country side myself. Suddenly a gang of some men forced their entry into the room and something happened and there was lot of violence. I shudder even at the thought of a violent movie. Suddenly they came up to me and shook me badly. My arms were aching badly. I felt a shooting pain on my head and thought someone had struck my head. I was too worried for the lady in the country as she was the one who lived there always.

Thankfully, my sister in law woke me up saying that she has brought something for me to drink as I might be having headache due to the oil bath. Phew, the relief I felt at that moment. I had gone so dead asleep for almost two hours and the book had worsened matters. Anyway now I was better and left that room freshened myself and went to bring my nephew from school. He is in class I. They are preparing for the annual day which was a week away. He was in some dance. He was proud that he danced 9 times. I was feeling sorry for the kid as in that hot sun, the poor kids had to do so many antics, forgetting my own days in school no better than a circus performer, always going for some dance practice. Infact, even 2 weeks back I was part of a dance in my office. Anyway we came back, and went out to buy things for the next day school function. We went around the whole village walking and walking for around 2 and a half hours and on return going to the most desired bakery shop on constant special request from my nephew. After his constant pestering even I thought he must like the items in that bakery. Instead what he bought made me mad. He bought a 3 rupees biscuit all for a free tattoo of a famous film star. Arghhhhh!! The entire extra mile for this????

Next day was the function in school. It was a yearly ritual in which the boys of class X handed over a candle or ‘Jyoti’ after taking an oath and passing over the school honor to the next batch. It went well. And now I am sitting in Madurai yet again talking to the blog. Tomorrow is the ‘Aradhana’ function which I won’t be attending due to some unavoidable reasons. Two more days to cover up for some roaming around, shopping and cinema and then back again to pavilion in TTC.

Soul mate???

Whom do you see the most in your life?

Who makes you smile, laugh, cry, sad? can also give you pain....

The first one you see when you reach your workplace. Without whom you are uncomfortable?

Of course its my monitor(with the CPU)... So its monday and again i start my relationship with my monitor... We all come to the workplace, dont speak to anyone much and give first priority to the monitor than your closest frnd in teh office.. As if we all are married to the monitor.. Staring at it at close quarters always and time and again... smiling at it, may be someone else is creatign that effect but its the monitor which brings that smile, tear, skip of a heart beat or any other feelign in you!! Am i right?

Maybe it is monday thats makign me give those senile words. Anyway, I feel a strange emotional relationship with the monitor itself.. The fact is we have all become so ignorant of the art of writing and reading to and from a book and have become so used and fond of the monitor(in actual layman lang... now dont argue that its the CPU / memory processor/ motherboard...etc ) that we read even books in 'it', write through 'it', lend our readings to people thru 'it' (forwarding) and even helping people in crisis at times.. Simply every damn thing is done by the computer... which has sortof paralysed our sense and capability of reading, writing most (importantly letters ), going out on windy cold evenings with your family and enjoyign the weather rather than tryign to flirt with some unknown object/human/ evil in the internet, improving yoru handwriting rather than making it so used to typing that you type faster than your thoughts and on paper your words look like earthworms and runnign to your friend in need rather than forwarding the mails to n number of people requestign for help. We are all becoming more of handicapped machines... more than humans. No im not the kind of person who will criticize any new thing happening to the evolution and not going to keep grumbling about it... I believe the fact that reading books and writing letters not only improves our vocab but also gives us a human touch .. You feel more towards the person or event when you write it.

Anyway given that we draw our salaries with the Computer's blessings, we cannot ignore it completely. But we do have a life to live, give answers to give to the nature, our family, our selves. And we should not just become like americans who have more and more cases of violent childhoods than authors and painters. Well without ignoring the technological revolution, we can be humans... and try to have a difference betweeen future robots and the clan of Human Beings...