The mind really messes with you

I've thought long and hard if I should write this one or not. Ultimately I decided to write it. I'm not a person who believes in auguries or premonitions but sometimes there's an indomitable force that compels you to do something. The good part is that you do it voluntarily and have no hazy memories about it the next morning. The motivation behind this is that unknown feeling. And perhaps the opportunity to write this hasn't come at a better moment. With the entire house to myself alone and the whole night to type it out. It's not one of those eerie supernatural feelings but something a lot more peaceful and tranquil.

This post might be extremely obnoxious to a few of my good friends. So "losciento mucho" to you guys. Translates to very sorry. But it's one of those flow of words which cant really be stopped.

I hope certain people never know this post exists. Let alone read it.

Well since its a tad sensitive, I won't spell out names. But the people involved will surely know what this is about. And for those who aren't involved, this is a true story.

From a distance she wasn't someone who caught your attention. But, if you looked closely, you wouldn't miss her.

I first saw her in the dining hall at a remote ashram in deep interior Karnataka. We were a bunch of school kids put together in a big block, with rooms that could hold no more than 7. But ours had 15 of the most outspoken people that batch had ever seen. I knew 3 of them, my classmates and the rest I got to know on the very first day.

At lunch on the first day, out of a week away from home, I noticed her amidst a group of girls. Nothing too fancy. She was just in a salwar kameez and dint pay heed to the bunch of guys trying to broach conversation.

As a couple of days passed, she was the most talked about in the guys block. Some of guys among the 15 knew her and soon the whole group of us 15 guys got to know her bunch of girls. I stayed away from it all. I was an introvert (still am) so making conversation with strangers has never been my forte. But the stronger reason for me staying away from it all was because I was intimidated by her. Yup, I was pretty sure of embarrassing myself with my attitude if I ever made conversation with her.

We had a couple of activities during that week. One of it involved drawing or painting something. The first to finish won something which doesn't come to mind immediately. So my team and I were doing our bit. She walked up to me. "Hey do you have a brown sketch?"

"Nop sorry, just ask around you'll find one." "Sure thanks".

There are people whom you look up to for their attitude and respect them. As she smiled n walked away, she'd earned mine. I probably was the only one amongst us who'd never really talked to them. So amidst all of us, she chose to come n talk to me. Maybe to break the ice. Maybe I was standing closest to her at that point of time. Or just maybe I looked like the guy who might have a brown sketch.

Either way, her approach to getting people comfortable in her presence was astonishing. Direct, yet friendly and yet not giving herself away and making pointless conversation for the sake of it, like so many others do.

By the end of the week, I'd realized that she was a smart girl. And
"Nop sorry, just ask around you'll find one." had been the only words that I'd said to her all week. As we got off the bus at Bangalore, I said "bye", not knowing if she even remembered me. And that was it. My brain decided to shove her into some tiny unused space it had. But the respect I had for her never dwindled.

Life moved on, and a month or two rolled by. My classmate, who'd also come with me to the ashram walks up to me n says. "Dude, I'm dating her!".

This chap has probably been one of my best friends before the two of us were born. Our mothers were good friends since they were our age. And honestly, I don't think I've picked on anyone else in school more than him. All in good spirit of course.

He seemed to have found a new lease of life somewhere. It was a good feeling all around. One of my best friends dating a girl whom I'd respected after speaking a couple of words. So, it came to be that this was sort of a serious affair, and we picked on him for it, in jest of course.

There were conversations about his marriage and his kids and good times to be. Again, my poor social skills meant that I wasn't really up to date with happenings but the other 2 guys who'd also come to the ashram were. So the 3 of us made it a hobby of talking about this guys future.

He finally forced me to speak to her on phone again. I got a lot of stick from her for being a dimwit and not talking to her properly. Hell I should know.

That conversation kick started a host of others. Yahoo messenger took center stage with that familiar chime sounding every second. Our conversations turned from biweekly to daily to twice a day. Lost count of the number of things we'd argued about and the number of jokes we'd create about the poor fellow.

It so happened that she hadn't really told her friends bout her guy. When she did tell them, it became a furor and I'm not sure why women are so keen to meet their friend's boyfriends. Maybe its a social thing that I don't get.

Now, they lived across the city, so meeting him in person wasn't really that easy. So the next best option was yahoo messenger. (I'm not sure why they overlooked phone).

The problem with yahoo was that this jackass of my friend was and still is anti- internet. Chat applications, social networking, twitter hes never on even on of them.

She pinged my one afternoon and wanted me to be him for a while. This idiot probably never had a yahoo ID then so I was the scapegoat.
Before I could reply, I was in a group chat with 3-4 of her friends. The chat room sort of resembled this.

Friend 1: Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. Howa u doin??
Friend 2: tell us tell us tell us everything about you.
Friend 3: what do you like about her??
Friend 4: do you know what her likes n dislikes are?? We're gonna quiz you about it...

Friend 3: What does your ID mean (ash_thatscool was my yahoo ID those days, and it resembled his name not to the slightest )

Me: Errr...


Barclays Premier League and insanely fast copy pasting from her private window to the group chat saved my ass. Not his of course, for it felt the force of my shoes.

Oh and about the ID, there was a footballer by name Dean Ashton who played for Norwich city those days. Apparently, I was a Norwich city fan and he was my favorite player, hence the ID.

At least, that's what came off the top of my head and I typed it out. It was BULL--- wait for it SHIT. Fortunately, those girls dint watch football.

Now if that wasn't hard enough, Friend 2 adds me on her chat list, and I had to pretend to be him for a whole month, before I decided to "get my ID hacked" and create a new ID, unknown to Friend 2.

So things went smooth for a long time, and the future looked ruddy. What could possibly go wrong?

A day after her board exams results were out, I was reading the newspaper. I read an article which I dint pay too much heed to. It could have been anyone from that big school. As soon as I got to school, he came up to me and said to me lugubriously "Hey, its her".

Disbelief, shock, and speechlessness followed. It was insane. She'd put a noose round her neck and kicked the chair from underneath. Before the results were announced. Turned out that she did okay. It was one of those days where we never said anything to each other. The same with the following day, which was when the rest of them found out. I wrote her a farewell mail, to a dead inbox, which will probably never open again.

I tried to wrap my head around why she did it. It's never made sense to this day.

I remembered her this morning. I don't know why. It was just one of those thoughts that popped into my head. I guess that's why I'm up at 1 AM writing this post. It's a force which makes you do something you never planned to.

Distant memories

Ola!!

See here's the saying which sorta makes sense every time you think about it. "You don't really know the value of something until you don't have it".

About 14 odd years back, a kid moved into a house on my street. He was a couple of years younger to me and seemed the quiet shy type of guy. I wasn't exactly Mr Social but here was someone more reclusive than I was.

So, a few weeks passed and we got to know each other. The streets on those days were filled with kids playing a whole bunch of games. I vaguely remember atleast 20 kids on my street every evening each playing cricket, hide n seek, 7 tiles etc.

So my friend , lets call him kulla (which is kannada for someone who's short) and I got together every evening playing cricket(Yes I did play cricket those days).

As a year went by, we became pretty good friends. I was only about 9 or 10 back then so the title of "best friend" those days was comparable to a being a son of a millionaire. The best friend got the best of everything the person had. Or else, the best friend would resign as best friend :D.

Kulla was never my "best friend" in terms of those days. But he was around always around.
I don't have a sibling and both my parents work till late. So after getting back home from school, life was pretty boring. But Kulla filled that void.

WWE was the most happening thing those days. Kulla and myself were every possible tag team in the WWE. Our opponents were well...... lifeless pillows but we injected life into them like nobody business. My dad made the mistake of buying a ladder. The first thing after he left the house was a tables ladders and chairs match against err.... pillows. I remember the count of broken things in the house that day exceeded 35. Kulla rocketed out the minute he saw my dad opening the gate leaving me stranded.

In the words of Russel Peters, "somebody gonna get a hurt real bad" that day. And it wasnt him.

As the years rolled by, my dad made another mistake. Buying me a computer. Add to it the mistake that my mom made while returning from Iran. Buying me tomb raider 4. Kulla and I stuck to it day and night. I'm pretty sure, we never noticed Lara's hot pants till the 5th level or so. Such was the involvement in the game. 37 levels of traps, puzzles, mummies, dogs, bikes and ancient gods, we cleared it all.

Completing that game earned me a god level status among my gamer friends. Honestly I'd have gone nowhere if it wasn't for him. Tomb raider 4 was followed by prince of Persia 3, followed by tomb raider 5, diablo 2 and the list went on.

Obviously, something had to give way for all these accolades in the gaming world. Unfortunately for Kulla and me, it happened to be something that parents really give a damn about. GRADES and MARKS. Well, the obvious excuse before getting an earful or grounded was the excuse that Kulla hadn't fared any better. Of course, that never helped anyone. But it was worth the shot. It was the same scene at his place too. And of course, the two of us had a laugh about it.

To say that kulla was a sports enthusiast would be an understatement. We tried our hand at every single game that existed, including croquet(for those of you who know what that is). In addition, we invented, improvised and added. Sport was something we both loved and gave it our best shot. We were each others nemesis on the field, be it cricket, football, basketball or volleyball.

To his credit, kulla always was the best among his classmates. Captains would never have a second thought about picking him as he was that good. One distinct memory that I have is of the vacation football challenge.

Our street had a sign board that held up something once upon a time. When the vacation started, only the 2 posts remained of the signboard. It wasn't more than 2 feet across and 3 feet high

That, was our goal. Just one. We didn't need 2 to play a game of football. The street was our turf, and barefoot we played, nonchalant about any cuts, bruises or broken bones. That vacation was probably the best I ever had. We played with a small plastic green ball no more than the size of a musk melon.

2 months, just the 2 of us, mano-e-mano, 1 continuous game to be resumed the next day, after the street lights were too dim and our mothers had yelled all they could. And I remember the score at the end of the vacation being 586-523.
In a football game !!!!!!!! Did we hate it when school began?? You bet.

I remember getting a basketball ring for one of my birthday's. Nothing extravagant, just a ring with a board and a ball of course.

It went on top of my terrace and that's where our basketball games took place. 3 stories high with plain 2 foot rails to protect us much less the balls from plummeting down on to the road below. I'm not sure how many motorists, peed their pants and hit their brakes after being subjected to a basketball falling out of nowhere. But we dint care. The game was too important.

School matches were all about bragging rights. Kulla was a good volleyballer and I was a good basketballer. We represented different teams at school, but we helped each other get better at the other sport.

It so happened that, one fine afternoon, my team was playing kulla's team for the volleyball crown. We walked onto the field with smirks on our faces, knowing that the winner would really rub it into the loser for the rest of the week.

Of course, there was plenty of banter during the game. We taunted each other without inhibitions and there was plenty said. I remember winning the game, and although he was a better player, I had won. Not without his help of course, because the training sessions prior to the game were where we bought out each others flaws in the game.

A year later, this time on the basketball court, it was our teams squaring off again for a place in the final. It was my last year at school, and I was hungry to win the tournament. It was kulla's first year in the team and he wanted to make a mark. He started on the bench and the game was a roller coaster going one way and another. Kulla came on in the final quarter and the larking began once again. Lots of words were said which added fuel to an already intriguing contest.

But amidst all the competition, we exchanged banter with smiles. Not meaning a word of what we said. I remember an incident where he was defending me and I pulled his shorts down, on the blind side of the referee. In retribution, he swung an arm and the referee called a foul :D.

The sight of him frantically trying to convince the ref that I was pulling on his shorts was hilarious. The referee would have none of it. I was considered a saint at school and I was usually given the clean chit much to the dismay of everyone.

But, as they say, cheaters never prosper. We lost a cliffhanger. Kulla was ecstatic but the smiles or the banter never ceased after the game.

I guess sport won, as I had gotten better at volleyball, he at basketball.

Another frenzy, that started in school was stamp collection. It sprung out of nowhere. Suddenly, everyone had their assortment of stamps and exchanges were taking place with the speed and fury, that would put the stock markets to shame.

There again, he was my partner in crime. We had a merger, his collection added to mine at that point made it one of the biggest. We even annoyed and irritated one of my classmates to such an extent that he gave up collecting stamps.

Today, I still own the collection and I'm reminded of him whenever I look at it.

In my final year at school, I opted to take the same van to school as kulla. The font seats were reserved for us, since we were on the drivers good side. The girls at the back never hated anyone else in the van more than the 2 of us. The high pitched squeals and moans from the back of the van only motivated us to rub it into them more that we had the front seats and they would never.

Yea, we were evil!! :D. The van driver and me convinced kulla that he should take up becoming a gangster for a career. Those journeys were unforgettable and were always a laughter riot.

Gradually at high school, we both joined a basketball club. The hoop was the agenda every weekend. My mother had finally bestowed me with a 2 wheeler and kulla and me would zoom to court at the slightest opportunity.

It's been 3 years since I've met the guy. Life's taken me places and we're no longer in touch. I hear he's gotten really good at basketball and isn't really "kulla" anymore.

Nevertheless, it was awesome to have a childhood friend such as him. Maybe I will go down and meet him soon. Till then, thats all of these distant memories.

The camel decoration song

Ola !!

A very happy new 2011 to all.

The holiday season always brings with it its own joys and pleasures. Mine took me to the desert state of Rajasthan this winter.

We rented a cab and drove around the state for a week visiting Jaipur(bleh!!) , Jodhpur, Udaipur, Pushkar and Jaisalmer.

This post is about a 13 year old boy called Ashraf from Jaisalmer.
We reached Jaisalmer at midday driving from Jodhpur. The highway being maintained by the army was smooth. But it ran right through the middle of the thar desert. On a moderate winter afternoon with a clear sky, the highway seemed to go on and on to eternity.

The expression "in the middle of nowhere" came to mind. We counted ourselves lucky to see humanity once every 10 kilometers. The sight of a tree amidst the scrubs and bushes every once in 20 minutes was very unusual.

The place is vast, empty and devoid of life. The only notable signboard throughout the 270 km journey was "Pokhran". The valley worse than the one we were in where India had conducted its 2 nuclear tests.

Such was the loneliness of the place, that everything around seemed unwanted. The plants, the people and the desert sands.

Post lunch, we were driven from Jaisalmer to Khuri, further into the unceasing desert just 70 kilometers from the border with Pakistan.

Khuri is literally in the middle of nowhere. It has tents and camels surrounded by sand for miles together. At Khuri, a camel ride awaited to take us into the dunes. Ashraf, greeted me with a smile and we got talking. Me on the camel and him walking alongside. I would have loved to trade places because camel rides arent exactly comfortable on your "important areas".

Another 5 kilometers and the sand dunes grew out of the ground. Ashraf told me that if I got stranded any further than where we were, then the wise thing to do would be to die peacefully at one place.




He told me this with a grin. Ashraf's 13. He's walked his camel right from the time it was born. It's been his best friend. Pretty much the only friend in those parts. He went to school something about 5-6 kilometers away on the camel till he was 8 and then felt that he was wasting his time.

I'm not sure how schools in rajasthan function but I certainly felt that the boy had tried going to school. Things hadn't really worked out for him both academically and financially. So he quit.

On first thought, one would say he was stupid to leave behind a rosy future. But then again, one has to live in the present, survive the ongoing day, sleep through the cold nights of the desert to get to tomorrow. Certainly, his priorities were surviving today rather than dreaming of a bejewelled tomorrow.

Back from the dunes, Ashraf and some of his friends had an entertainment program. It's how they made their living. Camels, folk songs, some traditional instruments around a big bonfire.
They we're ready to share their cultures with the dumbstruck "goras"(foriegners) as Ashraf calls them. So the entertainment began, with Ashraf on the drums and some folk songs. Dance by a girl no more than 12 or 13 stacking pots on her head.

One of the songs was called the camel decoration song. It reflected in many ways, their lives. Walking a few miles everyday with pots on their heads to get water, decorating camels, farming desert beans etc. Their lives were intertwined with the desert as yours and mine are with the internet.

As the bonfire denigrated into a soft red glow of ashes and charcoal, the biting cold of the desert night bit into my skin through the layers of the reebok jacket. But Ashraf was unaffected. Wearing but a cotton kurta his enthusiasm for entertaining his guests never dwindled. He dint wear footwear for he never needed it.

One factor that really struck me was the zeal with which they explained each of their acts to the outsiders. I'm pretty sure they never learnt english the way we do. Despite language barriers, they put across their ideas exuberantly. They were even eager for feedback and took our ideas like it really mattered to them.

As the night grew quickly, and the desert sky was black with twinkling stars, it had been an experience worth remembering. In many ways, I'd seen the old India, with "athiti devo bhava" as the motto, full of talent but secluded and subdued.
Did it matter that he was muslim and could have crossed over from Pakistan, a country that many of us despise? He was more indian than many of us will ever be.

Ashraf was extremely enthusiastic about what he does. I'm from a bustling city, so it dint make sense to me why he would be so upbeat about singing the same songs day in and day out. Or why he would be excited about walking the same camel with a different person on it everyday. Or about why he would beat the same drum to entertain people every evening.

Maybe he dint have a choice. This is what he had to do to survive. I went in there thinking he was entertaining me. In reality, I was his entertainment. Meeting different people from around the globe everyday is their only entertainment. That's the best education that they have.

I tried talking Ashraf into going back to school but he wouldn't budge. But then again, his priority was to get through another cold night to see the rising sun again.