Love – Absolute seventh Heaven

You know that weird feeling of being in love? At last, I’m very fortunate to experience it at the age of 26! It took me a while to even realize what is happening to me. From childhood, I never experienced such stuff which some people always talked about. But from past few days when it is happening to me, I’m realizing how true it was to them also. Love has taken me by surprise. Absolute seventh heaven!

I get up in the morning and think of you and only you. The freshness in the morning; I can feel it only after seeing you. I get ready and leave for office; en route I think of you. Envisaging that I’ll catch up with you in another hour makes me chuckle silently. I don’t care if people around me think I’m mad. In spite of some people warning me that you’re dangerous and that I should not think of you, I just can’t stop myself. I’ve stopped giving ears to people who see rationale in everything.

That awesome warmth, when I see you first time in office is beyond compare. You are the reason I work.  Words can’t explain that amazing sensation when I hold you in my hand. I just can’t figure out the way time flies when you’re at my desk. And these colleagues of mine will probably never understand what I feel for you; how much I respect you. Sometimes when I don’t see you waiting for me in the pantry, I feel so low and dejected. Your absence has made me understand that life without you is just vanity.

Dear.. or Shall I call you darling: I have a confession to make. It’s been more than 20 years since I’ve known you. But I just used to hate you from childhood days; so much that if my mom ever took your reference, I just couldn’t stand it. I’m not sure if you remember. I used to throw you out of my room, if you ever entered. But here I stand today; like a dim-witted moron; thinking about all the ecstatic moments we’d have had together if I had realized my love for you.

That whirlwind of mood swings; those unwanted apprehensions; work pressure at times; you can rid me of them within no time. The stress is nothing when I know you’re always there. That’s the kind of confidence and love that you’ve instilled in me. Now that I’ve experienced the sweetness and the wonders that you are doing to me; sometimes when I go to places, where I can’t find you, I feel traumatized. I can’t express how much I miss you when I’m stuck in hosur road traffic. Sometimes, I miss you terribly. 

I’m sure it’s not just infatuation or some time pass stuff. My love for you is eternal and unconditional. I just can’t stop myself from falling in love with you, each day, every day. My dear coffee, see what you’ve done to me!

P.S: My love purely for the pure filter coffee and not any Starbucks, Barista or even the CCD coffee vending machine @ office!

Marriage hall – A bizarre bazaar

Yet another post about marriage. Honestly, I’ve no crazy idea why I’m writing/tweeting so much about marriages. Yesterday yet another friend of mine went into conjugal bliss. And this time, I want to jabber about the agony that you may experience in a marriage hall; that awkward moment when you really don’t know whether to feel happy for the ones getting married or sense that awkwardness that you come across in the marriage hall. 

Face-off: At 26, I just can’t stop my mind from setting an expectation on the probable honeys and sweeties around.  My eyes will be constantly running algorithms in the front end for a match against my expectations. But most of the times my eyes end up on mirror cracking materials and Asian paint endorsers, and on the other hand – Gold miners from Bappi Lahiri khandan. Yielding bad search results. Even though there are no syntax errors in my algorithm, it couldn’t yield better results because the database itself is corrupted. Sheer disappointment or rather my fortunes.

Flash it on: By any chance, if there’s no television display in the marriage hall, you owe a BIIIG thanks to the almighty. I mean it. Because that graphics you see on television is the most awkward graphics that human eyes can tolerate. If you stare at it for some time, you’ll lose your vision. A little more than that; you’ll put yourself in the grave danger of losing your mind as well. This is what happens: First, the bride will dissolve in from the middle of Niagara Falls and the Groom will join her in lightning speed from a mountain that looks like tundra region; as if the bride and Groom are diehard fans of Edward and Bella. And suddenly you’ll see a man with yellowish teeth gulping pani puri and from inside his mouth both parents will crawl in like some insects followed by bride and groom disappearing to Times Square like a boomerang. And again bride will blossom from inside a flower. Watching this will make you curse Adobe for coming up with flash.

Food for thought: Whoever came up with the idea of taking videos in marriage dining hall should be punished by making him eat until his stomach literally detonates. This is the most hatred part of all the marriages that I’ve attended. How’d you feel if 1000 people are watching live, what and how you eat?  I really don’t understand why on earth some one wants to cherish the memories of how or how much a person EATS! In case this happens in your own marriage, you’ll only end up being disgusted to watch your own marriage video because of the fear of seeing people eating in their own ishtyle (Please consider Indian dining etiquettes here). 

Indian weddings, if done in the way they are actually supposed to; they’re a treat. Weddings are the moments for a lifetime. I’ve seen people competing with other weddings to make it more vibrant, richer and more colorful. I feel sad for them. The richness, culture and traditions of a wedding today are meddled with technology, show off and unwanted opulence. I feel that the whole essence of marriage has taken a phase shift from celebration to flaunt and status symbol. Marriage is no more a marriage.

Just go home and open you parents wedding album. I’m sure you stand by me!

Mall-o-Mall Weekly

Yesterday was total fun. A kick ass booz.. oops bowling at a brand new bowling alley in Orion. No doubt it was a fun filled evening. But being the mango fellow, I also experienced the other side of the shopping mall which is quite ludicrous. This post is all about the darker side that you as a non shopping fanatic may experience in a shopping mall. 

Traffic jam outside Mantri mall, a usual scene

All the enthusiasm was killed even before we entered the mall because there was a huge traffic pile up like 100 mtr even before the entrance. You may get an urge to pick up a facial tissue kept on the dashboard and thrust it into security’s whistling mouth, but we can’t blame him. Poor chap! He is just doing his job. After so much of time, I reached the parking gate only to read “Parking full” sign. I cursed the entire window shopping rebels inside and went to basement 2 and finally got a place to park the car. Walked a mile to find the elevator and talked about how big the mall is. 

As I stepped into the mall, two men appeared out of nowhere and gave me a weird look. For a second, I was confused if I committed a heinous crime. Then they ran their hands through my top to bottom and let me in.  In front of the very first store, one of the man’s hands directed at me, gestured that he’s taking a snap with his dad and mom and asked me to walk away. The expression on his face said “Can’t you see that I’m taking a picture with mom and dad. Get lost”. I started walking briskly in the same direction just to piss him off. I can bet anything on my life: That pic was taken just to put it on facebook. I, JJ and Anil exchanged looks and started contemplating on that pictures future:

41 likes and 27 comments:

• Hey nice! (I know you dumb ass)
• This is Orion Mall.. Correct? (I’m not so vile like you to take my parents to Banshankari BDA Complex)
• Your parents? (No.. I’m doing a CSR event for an NGO and they are some unknown beggars)
• Hey you look a lot like your dad! (Saale, mera baap hai. Voldemort thodi hai)
• Awwwww..!!!! ( by a gal)
• Uncle, you look nice in that yellow tees (Bencho, 1400 bucks I’ve paid)

I felt like IT industries, all malls should ban taking photographs inside the building. This clicking photo interruption happened some 27 times before Navya, Neha and Sam stepped inside ESPRIT shop that had FLAT 50% to 70% discount. I caught view of the obese aunties inside and wondered if they really get anything of their sizes here or they have any magical properties to reduce their bosoms. As usual, neither Sam nor Navya/Neha bought anything. And we collectively decided not to step into any other shop and headed for bowling. 

I tell you, if you are looking for some serious stage performance and theatre talents, then the shoe kiosk in the bowling alley is the place for you to hunt. People act and put so much of scene to wear those shoes, ufff! Even a person with OCD for cleanliness wouldn’t do so much.

And at one side of the mall, there’ll always be some brand awareness campaigns going on. This was a shaving razor brand and guys were standing in queue, only to check out the good looking chick doing announcements. Blimey!

Window shopping inside Orion

And all the Aam Aadmi like me associating the unknown brand names in their own way like Zara – and recalling “Zara Zara touch me touch me” song and giggling passively or Café NOIR – Assuming it is by some Malayali NAIR. Visiting almost all the shops and outlets in there with absolutely no intention of buying anything! If at all, we pay visit to the food court, we end up eating golgappas by paying 50 bucks a plate and silently cry (Yaar bahar paanch plate kha sakte the:( The great Indian rudiment goes on and on.

Houseful KFC

Needless to say, the McD and the KFC in any mall will always be houseful and poor husbands thronging in the queue with their kids cuffed on both hands, struggling to even open their wallets, while their wives are busy talking to their friends on how expensive these malls are and how they managed to buy a pair of tees in Westside. Bechara husbands yaar! I pity them

In the end, the same traffic pile up to get out of the mall; forget all the good(?) times we had inside and cursing the mall for exorbitant parking fees and finally eat happily in a roadside chat stall and call it our day!

For some who do this every week, we shall call this affair as “Mall-o-mall Weekly”

Image courtesy:thenewindianexpress.com, siliconindia.com and pardaphash.com

Malleswaram - The aura of old Bangalore

Ritesh’s post about Malleswaram on facebook made me all nostalgic. I recalled the good old days of my childhood, about namma Bengaluru, about Malleswaram. If you are not living in Bangalore from late 80s or early 90s, then you’ll probably not be able to imagine the way Bangalore has transformed from a tinsel town with more trees than its own people to a metropolis with more outsiders than its own. No offense meant; perhaps such petty distinctions don’t matter at all. In spite of such a radical change, there are some places which, even today, bequeath the Aura of the old Bangalore. Malleswaram is one such place. I have very fond memories of Malleswaram. So much so that if you tell a BMTC bus number I can tell you if it plies through this place. I’m glad to have recalled it by virtue of this blog post.

Malleswaram circle before construction of Grade Separator

Just 15-16 years ago, it was a routine for my family to visit Malleswaram on the eve of any festival. Be it Sankranti or Ugadi or Ganesha Chaturthi. We used to board the bus numbered 1, 91 and 91C (Not sure if these buses are still there) from Chamarajpet. It used to reach Malleswaram via K R Market, Corporation, Nrupatunga road and Seshadripuram. There was no Vikasa soudha then. So if I imagine today, it was like going inside Vidhana Soudha. Not even a single fly over and I’ve seen Nrupatunga road and KG road being two ways at that time! Yeah. Hard to imagine!

We used to get down in Malleswaram circle. Shopping for my mom would kick off from there itself. I always urged my mom to get down in 8^thcross bus stop because of a tonga stand and a public toilet next to Malleswaram circle bus stop whose aroma I couldn’t stand. But mom wouldn’t listen because she would miss picking up mango leaves (mavina yele) in 5^th cross.

Malleswaram is one such place where no one can go hungry. Then there were no Mantris, No Rajadhanis and no Maiyyas. But it was almost tradition for us to break off and stop at CTR for a crispy Masala Dosa, Sahyadri café for a hot cup of coffee and Janata Hotel which is world famous in Bangalore for its amazing crusty Vadas and dosas. I wish I had enough words to describe the ecstasy of eating local!

Crispy CTR Masala Dosa

After being fortified at Janata, CTR or Sahyadri Café, continuing the shopping along the side of sampige road, the best part for me were new dresses @ T D Shah (Not sure if its sill there). And then my mom would stop by Murugan Ghee stores in 10^th cross and finally the shopping would end in Malleswaram market with flowers and we would board the same bus in Margosa road and head back home, thus ending the life’s little pleasures, but in a very big way.

Even today during festival time, cordiality and sparkle fills entire stretch of sampige road; with colors, sounds, fragrances and of course we the people. Oh the bliss! Only people who’ve seen malleswaram during festivals can imagine what I’m talking about. Malleswaram is seriously old Bangalore. Though lots of changes have taken place, somehow the refusal of Malleswaram itself to modernize has to be appreciated. If at all there are some things about Bangalore that has not changed, Malleswaram definitely tops that chart.

Flowers @ Malleswaram market

Take some time off your shopping malls and meander through the vibrant Sampige road on the eve of a festival, to experience the cultural extravaganza of old Bangalore, “Namma” Bangalore. Give a day break to your McDonalds and KFCs and explore the desi tindis you get in this vicinity before you regret, or at least to tell your kids that you had gone to this place once, without which your love for Bangalore will cease to exist.

Oh wait. Without the allusions of Kadu malleswara Temple, Asha sweets, Geetanjali talkies, Iyer mess, Veena stores and my personal favourite Raghavendra stores, both Malleswaram and this post will be incomplete.

 

Daddy.. Daddy cool - A short story

It was early 1990s and Bangalore was still not on the global maps with all the IT revolution and political folly; yet the city had its own charm and warmth. There was this small family and a happy family. The father was well off in a job that paid him well, more than enough to lead a happy life. Mother was a school teacher. They were bestowed with a son and life was perfectly blissful.

The father loved his son so much that he gave all the comforts in life without saying NO to any of his demands even though it burdened him at times. He always wanted to see his son happy, no matter what; the father was the real enthusiastic “daddy cool” types that we all get to see in movies. For obvious reasons, the son’s favorite lines were “My daddy strongest”. Quite naturally, the father was a hero in his son’s eyes. 

On the contrary, father always believed that real heroes are made by the paths they choose and not by the powers they are graced with. Somewhere deep in his heart, it was bothering him very much that the path that he is taking, is not his, at all! Though it was giving him good fortunes, his heroisms were somewhere else. And he had always envisioned it. It was his dream, his passion, fervor, obsession, craze and his everything.

 One fine day, the god bestows the courage on the father and he resigns the job which has given him all the comforts. He comes out of his comfort zone to explore his dream. He invests all his nest eggs, things he saved for a rainy day to nurture his dream. It kicks off well, but for some reasons, it meets with an accident and it collapses. Fate has something else in store for him.

The father is trapped in deep shit. He has dreams worth millions, but left with no penny in his pocket. On the other side, his son is no more a kid. But the image he has about his father is deep rooted in his hearts. He expects his father to meet all his expectations in the same way he used to earlier. But the father is broke and insolvent now. He is no longer able to meet the son’s demands. 

The son is adolescent now and he is not exposed to such unpleasant censures until now. This continues for a while and son starts to retaliate. He is forced to change school. The family moves to a small house in the outskirts of the city. Father cannot afford a bicycle but son wants it. The same applies to video games, school excursions, uniforms etc.  Issues after issues arise. All these things slowly replace the HERO image that he saw in his father with that of a villain. I don’t know if it is justified to put the blame on son; but the scenario at home takes a U-turn. And the mother, just like any other Indian women; watches all this helplessly.

Father’s debts pile up in a heap. Banks chase him for nonpayment of loans and his own house is auctioned. Darkness covers the whole family. Father’s passion for movies gives him a job of writing articles and movie reviews for a local newspaper.  But his struggles moves on with him. The day when father says he cannot afford his engineering tuition fees and asks him to join a local college for Bachelors in Science, his son develops a disgusting hatred for him. So much that he didn’t even want to see his face. He could not believe once he respected his openness so much. Shouting, yelling and screaming at his father becomes everyday routine for son. But the father just folds his hands and remains silent… The son made it a habit to loathe his dad. The son’s behavior and the adversity transform the family into a melancholic disaster.

After 8 years:

Somehow life has moved on and things have slowly settled down. At the age of 66, father has retired for good and happiness is slowly burgeoning back in the family. A famous publisher has come forward to publish a book on all his articles that appeared in newspaper. The book is being launched by a famous personality, also a friend of the father. As the father’s friend launching the book talks about the life of the father, his interests, his passion and his personal life…… how he wove his way from the autonomy towards adversity and back again, how he managed to come out of it; the commuters stared curiously and it’s applaud and praise all over the hall. They give him a standing ovation. The air in the room fills with respect for the old man. On the stage, the father folds his hands and remains silent… just like before

 

The son, standing by the side of the podium has the moment of epiphany; he recalls those days of his crusade against his father. He realizes how opaque his eyes were and how dense his heart was.  He wonders why it took him so long to understand that his father was not really responsible for things that happened. Like so many others he was just a victim of circumstances. The father was just trying to be “Himself” all these days. He just couldn’t open his eyes and see it.  That moment he realizes that it is iceberg's destiny to melt in its own water.

.…and tears roll down his eyes silently!

Sometimes it takes maturity, a lot of maturity to understand certain things in life.