An Indian Mind, Latest Version - Release Date: 2nd April 2011

Like several thousand fellow Indians on this side of this planet, I too experienced disturbed sleep at night purely in anticipation of the World cup finals. If the quarterfinal victory against the Aussies was more of a victory over their arrogant ego and the semi final victory against the pakistanis was to prove an all pervading dominance over the "I-need-you-in-order-to-hate-you" neighbour, the final victory was needed for us Indians. We needed it desparately.

In each of the billion minds, there were several expectations brimming, some expressed in words and the rest supressed in prayers. Each person's world came to a grinding halt when the coin was tossed and in spirit they all moved to the Wankhede. From the point when the Lankans choosing to hold the willow first, each moment, expectations soared and sank. While every wicket brought cheers, each boundary was accompanied with a bundle of sighs. Stars from the movie world and politics were mere spectators. In front of every television set several Kirstens sprang up offering "just in time" strategies. By the end of the Lankan innings, it was a "we can but maybe we may not" feeling in many. The prayers gained strength and resolve. Faith in a few of the playing eleven increased. The centurian was appreciated but not the punishing of dear Zahir.

After a shortended break, as the Indian openers walked down the pitch, took guard and focussed on the fire spitting bowler, the atmopheres changed.The expectation to see the ball racing to the ropes clubbed with the fear of the bails getting toppled. Sehwag's departure created a flutter but was compensated by the flow of classy shots from the demi god. Soon a deafening nick and a loud appeal followed by the walk back to dressing room. Taking time to digest, all hopes and expectations were rewritten. Total focus shifted to the run chase. World cup by him gradually turned into World cup for him. As the overs progressed, confidence bounced back and the prospects of winning the coveted title started sinking in. The final sixer from the Captain let free the child. Jumping, screaming, clapping and hugging, the expressions were boundless. It was not a love for the game but for the players. The sliding fall at the boundary line or the midair dives at square leg were not merely to stop a run. Those were the extra effort by each player to grab the cup. "I am on top of the world" feeling. If someone would have offered a fortune in exchange for this feeling, I could instantly reject it.I realised how desparate I was to feel this way. How much I had longed for this and missed it. The awards declared by the various governments fail to bother me because the all powerful feeling that stood above everything else. The next morning, there is fragrance all around, the birds are chirping louder, strangers are smiling - that same feeling is doing wonders.

I realise this feeling will gradually diminish into a quoted statement. I am fortunte to have had this. The prayers now start seeking to let this stay forever.

The Dog Trap - A Fable

Once upon a time there lived a man called Daku. He had interest in doing business but found it difficult to finalise on a business concept and plan that required least investment. He did not inherit any property or wealth and neither did he make enough money working. He worked in a nearby landlord’s barn measuring grains and was getting paid at the end of the day. During the seasonal times, when harvest is done, his wife and eldest of three children also helped him. That earned him an additional income. This life went on and slowly his business aspirations also died.

One day, as he was leaving his house in the morning, a small skinny dog slowly walked towards him with anxiety in his eyes. Yet it was wagging its tail vigorously. Daku felt sympathetic. He called his wife and said, “Raki, bring last night’s leftovers and feed this poor dog.” Having said this Daku left for his work. That evening on returning home, he was surprised to see the dog still at his door step. On seeing him it again resumed wagging its tail. It seemed little more cheerful now. His younger son and daughter were now playing with it and calling him “Timmy”. Daku found no harm in the dog’s presence around his house and Timmy made it his permanent camp.

In the following days Daku’s children would throw tiny dried coconuts, the size of golf balls and instruct Timmy to chase and fetch them. In a few days he mastered this skill. One day when he was in an ever alert mode, waiting for the dried coconut to be thrown, a rat scurried past. He mistook the hairy rat to be a similar ball and ran behind it. In the next couple of minutes he re-appeared in front of the kids with the rat. The kids were thrilled to see his speed and ability. From then on, they took him with them to the nearby fields and showed him the rats. He caught each of them. When the rat population dwindled, Timmy started sniffing them out of holes and chasing them. He now became an expert rat chaser and catcher. That weekend, while having dinner, Daku’s younger son boasted about Timmy’s abilities to everyone in the family. Daku and his wife smiled seeing their son’s happiness and pride.

The subsequent week, Daku’s landlord remarked about the growing rat menace in the barn and lamented that none of the traps were efficient in trapping the rats. Immediately Timmy flashed in Daku’s mind. He approached the landlord and said, “I have a dog at home whom I have specially trained to catch rats. Shall I bring him here for a few days and clear this place of all the rats?” The landlord thought this was a joke but agreed. To make it sound a little more serious he said, “I will pay you Re 1 for every rat that your dog catches. But if he fails to catch atleast 5 rats in a day, then you will forfeit your day’s wages.” Daku reluctantly agreed.

The next day Daku reached the landlord’s house with Timmy. His son also accompanied them as they felt that he could communicate better with Timmy. In a few days, the landlord found that the rat menace was slowly decreasing. He increased the payment per rat and equally increased the minimum limit of rats per day too. By now Timmy met them with ease and he received pats from Daku which he prided. By now, Timmy was making more money than Daku’s daily wage.

One evening, Daku asked his eldest son to find more stray dogs like Timmy and instructed his younger son to train them like Timmy. Within a week they had five more dogs at home. Daku’s wife was given the additional responsibility of taking care of them with timely food. The younger son started training them. To his and everyone’s surprise, one of the dogs, Brownie, was interested in catching locusts and grasshoppers rather than rats. His interest could not be chnaged. Daku then hit upon another idea – “Utilise his own skill to our benefit”, he told his family. By then he also got his younger brother to join him in managing the dogs and their trainings. In a month’s time, four of the five new dogs were also added to the task of sniffing out rats, chasing and catching them at the Landlord’s barn and the nearby warehouse.

The next day Daku approached the landlord and said, “I came to know that a lot of locusts and other insects are infesting our crops and causing huge losses. I have a new trained dog that will catch them from the fields. Do you want to try it for a week?” “Oh! Sure Daku! Why not. Get him to our fields tomorrow. Lets see”, the landlord sounded immediately convinced. By now Daku was not working full time with the landlord anymore but only visiting him two days a week.

The next day, Brownie was taken to the fields and in just three days, the landlord was satisfied with his skills and engaged him permanently. In three months time, Daku’s earnings exceeded his total earnings made during the previous year. The number of dogs also increased multifold. He leased a rundown yard in the outskirts of the village and made it his dog training place. Also by now the primary skill of each dog was assessed and training was imparted accordingly. Within six months Daku’s dogs were servicing not only the landlord but also at five other similar places. And the demand for dogs was increasing every day. Daku had also quit his job to take care of this flourishing “Business”.

Daku discovered a new opportunity when he was conversing with a wealthy grain merchant in a nearby village. “I need both my warehouse and stocking yard rid of cockroaches and rats in one month”, said the merchant. Daku committed to it without mentioning on how many dogs he would use for that. But he did stick to his commitment and the merchant was happy too. On the 30th day, Daku told the merchant, “Now that your warehouse and stocking yard are cleared of cockroaches and rats, why don’t we permanently keep a dog here so that he will ensure that new ones don’t creep in again”. The merchant liked that idea and immediately accepted it. Daku got a dog trained to catch both cockroaches and rats and put him in the merchant’s place. He now took this model as an option to other prospects and made better bargains.

Within a year, several others on seeing Daku’s success ventured into the same business and started making money too. Though competition was becoming intense, Daku’s dogs had a name that stood for commitment, efficiency and dedication. Daku finally retired as a successful businessman. Timmy by now got tired of catching rats but could not stop as he knew nothing else to do. He also got so used to the timely food at Daku’s place that he could not go back to the streets. He continued sleeping in the same cramped space that he shared with eight other dogs now. Is Timmy successful or trapped? The guess is obvious.

Foot note: If you have reached till here, in the fable just replace dogs with people and the various skills of catching rats, locusts, cockroaches etc with Java, DotNet & SQL. Do you see how the Indian IT services industry works now? :)

Onam - Significance Retold!!

Today for most of us, all the festivals are predominantly not much significant except for the fact that we get to take one day off and get to eat a good variety of food in the name of the festival. Here infact, such festivals when happen to fall during midweek, gets pushed to the following weekend for celebration. Matter of convenience than occasion. Onam also by default falls into that category. In our Hindu Mythology, predominantly all festivals are either "conceptualised birthdays" of certain Gods or days considered auspicious because certain God/ Goddess acceeded to a special request and killed some evil force, a demon (asura) there by giving joy to the suffering people. Glaring examples are Krishna Jayanthi, Vinayaka Chathurthi or Deepavali.

But Onam comes with a difference. The story goes like this. A king, Mahabali, once ruled Kerala the most righteous way. All his people were happy and contended. He ensured that none lacked anything. It is earmarked as a Golden Era in the history of the kingdom. He did things so well and correct that he was accumulating too many brownie points (punyam). It reached a point that the devas felt threatened. It seemed that soon he would easily qualify for the position held by Indra. They panicked and the think tank at devaloka put their heads together to handle the crisis situation. (I have always had a despise for Indra and his bunch of "yes sir" devas because they have been completely projected as an insecure lot. And they have just been suriviving because of a bias shown by the Gods). In this case, Indra clearly felt threatened by Mahabali. So as expected when the Devas Think Tank could not conjure up anything worthwhile and meaningful, they rushed to the only 911 available which is Mahavishnu himself and fell at his feet. "Do something to stop this King" was the plea. Mahavishnu, yet another terrible biased super power, agreed to "do something". But Mahabali being a good man at heart, he could not be challenged to a fight and killed as every other competitor is done. So they had to manipulate and play on his weakness rather than confronting him. He then identified the only weakness in Mahabali and that was his egoistic feeling of "I" whenever he did things for his people. Taking advantage of this, Mahavishnu, disguised (avatar) as a small brahmin boy (Vamana) and visited Mahabali's kingdom.

On seeing the bright brahmin boy, the King asked him "what do you need?".

Vamana asked whether his wish can be fulfilled.

This touched the ego of the king and he said, "I am a prosperous king. I have everything that I can think of. What is it that a small boy like you is going to ask. Please go ahead".

Vamana said,"All I need is three feet of land to meditate and pray" (3 adi bhoomi).

The king, laughed aloud and said, "Measure as you please and wherever you place your foot, the land is yours"

Thats when Vamana grew in size. The first foot was on Bhoomi, the second on "the other world" (this is little hazy to relate in real world terminology) and for the third, he asked the king, where shall he place because there was no more land available for the 3rd step. By now the king realised that it was Mahavishnu and understood the purpose too. He touched Vaman's feet with his forehead and said, "place it on my head". This was the sign of ultimate submission of a person's ego. Vamana placed his leg on the King's head and it seems he got salvation (moksha) for all his good deeds. But he had to leave his kingdom as it was no more his. But given his good nature, he was allowed to visit his dear people once in a year. That happens to be today. The people are more than happy to welcome the king as they all love him a lot. Hence they decorate the house with flower decorations (Pookalam or poo kolam), appear in their best of attire, cook the most yummy receipes and play all traditional dances to entertain the king. Surprisingly the menu remains vegetarian for Onam. :)

This festival has not poojas associated. It is definitely associated with Hindu Mythology but nothing to do with the gods. So rituals have no significance. But in course of time, the interesting aspect of what has evolved is, the fact that Onam became a flag of identity for a keralite cutting across religious affiliations. It has more or less become a sole identity for a Malayalee as no other state or language speaking community celebrates this or a similar occasion. Vishu (Malayalam New year) has replicas of "Tamizh Puthaandu", "Ugadi" etc in other states. But not Onam. So today, though not much in India, outside in most countries we will find that many people belonging to other religions also mark this as an occasion to identify themselves as a Keralite.

So thats all about Onam!!!

The Inner Truth

They declared him dead
Gathered around to mourn
Tears they did wipe
Opinion all very ripe

The coffin closed with flowers inside
Loud wails from every side
Into the pit, slowly lowered
Laid to rest on a flower bed

Noble, True & Righteous head
The engraved epitaph read
In his coffin he turned
Reading the lies he burned

The bell rang loud
No mankind was found
All dead and buried deep
The world was silent & asleep

From his grave he woke
None were seen who spoke
Erased his epitaph lies
And lay down dead in peace

A Nightmarish Morning Walk

A walk – well different people have different kinds of thoughts and views. It can be relaxing, exciting, boring, punishing, fearing, worrying, enjoying or even a Nightmare! But wait!! A walk can be a nightmare? Ofcourse for a person like Samu, it is bound to be.

Samuel and Reata have been now married for a little more than nine years and have not been successful in increasing their tribe. The reason is very much in line with the Chicken and Egg controversy and here too the verdict still hangs as to who is to be blamed. Reats has given up her hopes after a couple of painful early abortions and simultaneously applied brakes to her efforts. While Sam also had no option but to give up and apply brakes. Moreover their joint prayers and pilgrimages have also stopped. Some said it’s due to lack of consistency, God alone knows what they were referring to while others said its due to a compatibility issue. In reality none knew it was a communication issue. But this added a new member to their lonely life – a fluffy white kitten whom they called Tom.

The communication problem could be attributed to Reats accent and fast talking along with Samu’s rural upbringing. What he hears and what she says are never the same. All these aside, they lived together cordially with the only exception that they had redefined the word “cordial”. Getting into his early 40s, Samu was beginning to experience health problems while a year and half younger Reats was quite fit thanks to her serious and regular pilates practice. The doctor blamed Samu’s extravagant diet and Reats pointed the blame torch at this paunch. But Samu knew that both meant the same. He found a convincing solution to both the allegations – A Morning Walk. This idea originated as an easy escape route from morning steaming lecture from Reats but in a short time it topped Samu’s list of most loved activities of the day. He had even coerced a group of his neighborhood friends to join him and together they were reliving their teenage mischief. It was well masked under the unwritten right called “As an adult, I can do this”

Their rendezvous at the street corner will be at 6.00 am and a slow 10 minutes walk will take them to the local community park. It’s a bustle of activity at the park and that’s the group’s new found motivation to hang around for about an hour. There is a regularly punctual group of Tai Chi addicts where most of them are past their prime. And from some corner resonates the shrill noise of the karate kids. The release of air from the underbelly at maximum thrust and velocity through the wind pipe and out via the open mouth – Karate at its perfection. A group of Laughter Club members looking up particularly at nothing and laughing loud was a scene worth investing five minutes of Samu’s precious sixty minutes. This club had a couple of “not so old” girls who for some strange reason wore on certain days short Tees in order to laugh better. On those days Samu and his gang invested an additional 5 more minutes. The regular walkers were usually very elderly people who were either fighting their diabetes or hyper tension. Arthritis patients were on a very slow pace. A bunch of athletes always zoomed past and personally kept Samu wondering how a pair of legs could carry a weight five times more than its own and run continuously without a strain on the blood pumping activity of the heart. There were also a group of college girls who clearly looked like having a healthy fun ever morning that sent several adrenalin levels soaring and also a pang of guilt to a few. Samu’s close pal and neighbor Ranga also carried a guilt for a different reason. His natural genes made him ogle at these girls while his age and upbringing was against it and this resulted in him feeling guilty of his act. A customary “Chodo Yaar” from Samu seemed to pacify him everytime but the guilt did return every morning. But for Samu this was the most precious time and he was determined nothing will be allowed to spoil it.

Then there were this random set of show bees type of guys who changed their pace and posture depending on the people in the vicinity. Samu noticed their neighbor Mrs Leel’s son also in the same league but as though pinned by a mutual agreement, nodded and passed each other. Samu also remote controlled his group members from making some over excited raunchy comments as he was constantly scared that some invisible ears would constantly and securely carry the same to Reats ears through her network of IANSOY members. Only recently Samu understood about this informal association as “I Am Not So Old Yet” and along with his group also tried to force gain a membership but realized it was an all exclusive fairer sex enclave.

This mutually harmless non-intervening morning practice continued for close to a year and Samu’s routine included small errands of mostly vegetable purchases and sometimes certain other emergencies. One morning as usual Samu jumped when the alarm went off at 5.30 am and by the time he was ready for his trot at six am, Reats was already in the kitchen preparing her oats porridge. He jumped out into the driveway with springs attached to his heels and he heard Reats scream from inside, “Get banded tomatoes and ginger”. He froze in his steps for a second and his intelligence advised him to walk back in and clarify. But his hyper active mind pounded to him “Your friends are already there waiting. Make it fast or you will be left out as you are already a couple of minutes late”. He screamed back a “oooook” and the springy steps continued.

On reaching the street corner he said aloud the now customary “Hi” five times in varying directions, one each at the group members. There was another excitement in store for the day as they all had successfully instigated Ranga, the most timid among them to smile at the youngest middle aged member of the Tai Chi group and by some conversational means ask her for a coffee at the small makeshift stall in the corner of the park. If he had accomplished this, then all others in the group including Samu would put in efforts to convince their spouses to talk high of Ranga to his wife. This was a great morale booster for Ranga whose capabilities were looked down upon by his boutique owner wife and her folks. To pull this through, Ranga heavily depended on his bank manager friend Samu for ideas, motivation, courage and wisdom.

Banded tomatoes and ginger swam inside Samu’s head. Nothing that his memory could recall would match up to banded tomatoes. And then Ginger. He remembered buying a sizable quantity just the previous day. Were they stolen? Or did Reats make the tried and tested granny’s medicine for facial dark spots and moles masking? Mix ginger juice concentrate with one fourth its quantity of honey along with a pinch of turmeric and apply it on the visible dark spots for two weeks and disappearance was guaranteed. But he had not noticed too many moles or dark spots on his wife’s forehead, cheeks or neck recently. He felt the usual painful pinch due to his hazy memory and unfamiliarity on her zoomed in features. Its been a while since he saw her so close enough he remembered.

When Ranga came to him asking something, Samu mumbled back, “What is banded tomatoes?” Ranga gave a confused look but blaming his overall ignorance, nodded at the intelligence lying in the tricky question. Patting Samu’s back and thanking him, he broke away from the gang and moved toward the Tai Chi group. Samu blinked for a second and then realized the question. Ranga had asked, “How shall I open a conversation with that lady?” Before he realized his folly and could correct it, Ranga was already a foot away from the lady and was in some conversation with her. Wide eyed, Samu saw the unbelievable happen – the lady was rocking with laughter and shaking hands with Ranga. His single question “What is banded tomatoes?” brought out his huge sense of humor, the lady felt. She agreed for a coffee and the gang congratulated Samu for this spontaneous ideas.

Completely dazed he still wondered whether it could be “branded tomatoes”. It made more sense but tomatoes were not branded yet. His sixty minutes flew by. He failed to notice the girls or the neighbor’s son. He reached home a quarter past seven with hands full of bags. Reats dropped the newspaper from her hands and gave him a puzzled look when he deposited all the five bags in front of her on the dining table. Tom jumped at them. One bag was full of ginger and the other four had different varieties of tomatoes in them. In an apologetic tone with drooping eyelids with an intention to induce immunity from her reaction, Samu muttered, “Sorry Reats! I accept my ignorance about banded tomatoes. So I bought all the varieties that were available.”

An expression, till that day unseen on any human face lashed across Reats face. It morphed from surprise to fear to doubt and finally anger. Regret of having married him writ all across her face, she screamed, “What happened to you? Why have you bought tomatoes and ginger? You know that my eldest brother is coming today and tomatoes are not recommended for his graying hair problem. And we just bought ginger yesterday”. Samu softly mentioned in complete genuine confusion, “But you asked for banded tomatoes and ginger this morning when I was leaving…” his voice trailed off. Reats meditated for ten seconds and said slowly in a steel like tone, “I said Get Band Aid. Tom ate my toes. And Tincture. I have scratches on my toes after Tom clawed and chewed them this morning”

Both of them looked away and blamed their fate for the same reason but in different tones. Communication problem once again proved to be the fundamental problem for this Nightmarish Morning Walk.

The Last Breakfast

Not so long ago, they themselves did not know how long ago, probably by sheer accident or necessity, they became friends. A colleague’s friend is your friend too – universal ground rule for friendship. The origin of social networking. Kals and Bala – contradictory in every aspect but best friends in every way.

Kals was a “yet to bud” IT geek with major fascinations being Racing, Biking, a few sports and movies. A real hard worker with sky set as the limit and so was his height too. Bala was a young and energetic dwarfed entrepreneur who took a blind plunge into Silver Jewel trading. A demure guy with adventure at the top of his mind always, only that his definition of adventure was tangentially different from any common definitions. Religion was more of a self discipline tool to be used conveniently that could be deactivated whenever necessary. A third person was destined to enter this peculiar company of Kals and Bala at a later stage and that was me.

Now, ten years later though they have’nt deviated much but have progressed well into prosperity. Kals was now a globetrotting IT advisor with an MNC, married and staying with his mother and wife. A cute little daughter was also added to his family recently and that made his life most challenging as he had to peacefully survive in the midst of three women. But Bala still holds on to his faith in destiny and his “partner in life’ is yet to be created. His complex specifications are yet to be understood fully by the creator. Astrologers are bogus or genuine based on their matrimonial prediction and advice. A seasoned, experienced and self reliant bachelor he was now. They both stayed a few block away.

One day Bala had to visit Kals at his home to hand over a silver article as a gift for someone and he decided to finish the task in the morning as he had some travel plans later that evening. He informed this to Kals the previous evening who in turn passed the message to his folks at home. Kals mother during her evening walk does some vegetable shopping too. She had a sound list of justifications for this “Just in Time Vegetable Inventory Management System”. All discreet criticism from Vaju, Kals wife and direct open expert comments from Kals did reach her but she was unperturbed. On this day, she came across a rare edible plant, Pulika that had tremendous health benefits. They included among others, drop in body temperature which led to a long list of complication reductions, good acceleration for hair growth on the head, much reduced deposits of wax in the ears, virility and also a shiny texture for the skin. She immediately purchased two bundles of the same simply based on these health benefits that sprang inside her then. The premium she paid equated to more benefits and exclusivity.

There were many ways to prepare this she knew. But she chose the safe and easy way of grinding it along with rice to make Idli batter and get them as healthy Idlis. The plan well set, she trotted home with an air of triumph and prepared the batter too. There appeared an unusual greenish tinge which she expected. All initial criticism at home soon died as Kals and Vaju accepted their fate. An announcement was made in general but to Kals in particular that Bala has to be a part of the healthy breakfast the next morning. Kals in turn made a short call to inform Bala the same and confirm the time. None had options here.

The next day morning, as on any early working day, Kals was checking his mails with the toothbrush sticking out of his frothy mout. Vaju was unsuccessfully trying hard to make the little daughter sleep. In a few minutes left the sleeping kid in the cradle and made a dash to the shower. Mom was already in the kitchen making team. She took a curious look at the fermented batter and being convinced with the way it looked, added two spoons of salt. Before she could stir, the kid wailed again and she rushed to the cradle. When Vaju emerged from the shower and noticed the open batter vessel in the empty kitchen, she muttered something about the Mother-in-Law’s carelessness, she added another two spoons of salt strongly based on her cooking expertise. As she was about to stir it, the baby increased its crying decibels and Mom called out for Vaju. The kitchen was once again empty but Mom now had to take her shower and get ready to leave for work too. So she called out to the maid, Malu and gave her SMS type instructions mentioning that salt has been added, stir well and pour the batter in the moulded steaming vessel to make Idlis. Malu was in good spirits as she was humming a latest tune and watering the plants on the balcony. Half hearing the instructions, she rushed to the kitchen, tasted the unstirred batter and dutifully added two more spoons of salt before stirring it well. Having poured the batter into the moulds she set it to steam and there were clear instructions to cook it for an additional three minutes due to the presence of Pulika.

As the last puff of steam escaped, the bell rang. Bala was at the doorstep with his universal wide smile that was relevant to anyone answering the door. Malu had the privilege of receiving that smile. Bala walked in with a Hi to Kals who was still at his laptop but the sticking toothbrush had disappeared. Kals took the gift item as Bala was ignoring all formalities and saying that he was in a hurry to leave. The tone also meant “If the breakfast is not ready yet, that’s fine. I shall come another day for it. But I need to leave now”. Kals called his mom for a status update and promptly came the reply “Two minutes” from the kitchen. Little did Bala realize that his last option of an impending disaster had just passed by. In a dry humor, he widened his grin and said “Maggie Noodles for Breakfast?” Not to disappoint him in the morning, Kals also forced a giggle and smile.

Soon the table was set and Bala had to skip a few headlines before he folded the morning news paper. Kals said he will be delayed and so Bala headed straight to the breakfast table. His eyes feasted on the empty china plate set on the neat hand woven mat. There were two smaller bowls with different varieties of chutneys and a larger bowl with greenish Idlis. Seeing them his eyes popped out with curiosity. And expecting this surprise, Mom was at the table with a triumphant smile ready to give the explanation. Without an assertive or negative nod from him, Mom started her long crispy lecture on Pulika and its benefits. She forced him to feel that he was fortunate to have come for the breakfast. By the time she finished, three idlis were at his place along with two small servings of the chutneys. By now Bala was nodding with excitement and Mom was rooted to receive the first feedback on her novelty dish. It was more like the first time movie director waiting outside the movie theater on the day of release, to catch a glimpse of the first set of audience to read their expressions. Bala’s fingers twitched on an Idli and smeared its sides with the bland looking chutney before popping it into his mouth. The presence of Mom restricted his natural reactions but was forced to react too. With a unique expression that more than matched DaVinci’s Monalisa, Idli still in mouth, he nodded his head and half raised his right palm. The three fingers upright and the index forming an “O” with the thumb, Mom’s feeling of triumph overflowed and she walked away. The next few minutes were so precious to Bala as he had to act and react when none were present. He quickly gulped few mouthfuls of water to swallow the idli piece and tried the second piece completely mixed with more than required quantity of the spicy chutney. The camouflage did not work either. Nothing else left to do, he slowly transferred two idlis into his trouser pockets and nibbled on the half eaten one till he managed to get them into his intestines.

On seeing Vaju entering the dining room, he quickly looked at his watch and pretended to read an SMS that just came in. Before anyone in the vicinity could offer more idlis, he appreciated the breakfast, dashed to wash his hands and almost was at the door strapping his sandals. On seeing Kals, he muttered his hurry and promised to meet him in the evening at the regular tea joint, he paced to his bike. The Idlis still bulging out of his pockets. He remembered the last time he had rushed like this was when he had stolen mangoes from a neighbor’s farm and ran out of the farm gate with hands clutching his pockets. Never he had imagined that he would need to replace those mangoes with Idlis and smuggle them out too.

The healthy Breakfast had two primary issues. Excessive salt was one default for which the blame game continues though the Maid Malu volunteered to be the scapegoat. Also, the idlis turned out to be too hard when they became cold and for this the analysis still continues. Is the process to be blamed, the ratio of ingredients or the ingredients themselves. Pulika is still banned in Kals house. Kals vividly remembered the now relevant saying, “Too many cooks spoil even the Idlis.” For Bala it was his Last Breakfast there.

Ideal Family

My days are quite interesting. I can choose to be how I want. Well, that’s the case with everybody, I suppose. Yet I reiterate that mine is different. You could be wondering how!! Well, I am a solution specialist for specific tangled and mangled human relationship problems. I have offered mind blowing solutions that many a time people have not understood. But one persistent problem that I still find difficult to address is to make my wife understand the practical difference between cute and beautiful. I once made the error of looking at my neighbor’s kitten and said to my wife, “Wow!! So cute! Isnt it my beauty?” She is still undecided as to who is cute and who “my beauty” is and I am still calling myself a forced celibate too.

Well, coming back to my job, on account of the recent recession led cost cutting initiatives, the publication for which I work has laid off the internal delivery boy, moved to a smaller office and among several others asked me to work from home permanently. Though I call myself a solution specialist, for the sake of mass appeal and media publicity purposes, the publication has branded my weekly column as PBMS which actually meant Problem Buster Madam Sussie. But I must admit that I did receive enquiries from anxious fathers and expectant mothers assuming PBMS stood for Pre-Birth Massage Services. I still secretly envy that job though.

The delivery boy being fired and I moved out of office, the publication directly gave me a post bag address and all problem filled mails came to me directly.

Some days when my depression cycle is on the raise, I don’t open any mails but create my own problems and provide solutions. I once even made up a problem from a gay husband wanting to know if the word “Bull” used coyly by his male partner is an expression of affection or disgust. My response was simple. “Try calling him a Cow and read the reaction”. The only unexpected response was once again from my wife who decided not to speak with me for a week just because I responded positively to a gay.

One day I received a mail and the scribbling on the envelop grabbed my attention. The sender’s education has not moved past primary school I undersood. Curious to know about an illiterate’s problem regarding relationships, I opened the mail. My wife who was walking our dog on the treadmill, gave a scornful suspicious look and I instantly felt guilty. She despised me writing under the name of Madam Sussie and even classified me under a cross gender category. Nevertheless I pulled out the folded paper from the envelope and started reading it. It went on like this:

Dear Madam Sussie,

I am facing a huge problem and am unable to find a solution. Hence seeking your opinion which if found suitable and practical, will thank you later. Well to give a background, my old parents are kind of stupid and weird because they don’t seem to love each other but still sleep in one room. Dad does not seem to know where mom is going and mom only pretends that she knows what dad is doing. I have wonderful neighbors. The lady is cute, sweet and seems to have a great liking for me. But I have seen many a time she rubbing dust off dad’s hair too. There is also a great coincidence between mom’s tan and swim time and the neighbor guy’s lawn mowing time. Both happens when its sunny. Once he even helped dad by mowing our lawn but dad was not aware of this as he did it while dad was away. Probably my neighbor does not like personal appreciations. For that matter, he even comes home when dad is away to help mom do the dishes. Now all these family introductions aside, my problem is something different. My neighbor’s have a daughter, a real angel. I am crazy about her but scared to tell her. How can I gather enough courage to ask her out and propose and when will I be able to marry her? Can you help me here by suggesting the easiest way out? I am 6 years old and my little angel is a couple of years younger.

Awaiting your response with a thankyou card,
Ben

I quickly scribbled a reply and placed it in the children’s room upstairs. “Talk to your dad” – it read. I craned my neck to look out through the window at our backyard and saw my wife swimming and my neighbor mowing the lawn.

My son was right. A simple huge problem indeed I concluded and continued reading other’s problems again.

My Connected Celebrity Day

Its always a dream to be a celebrity. I shall call it more situational than highly motivational. More than dreaming we rather fantasize about celebrities. When we notice that a particular celebrity is talking crap at a news conference or at an awards night, we instantly seem to feel, “if I was in that place, I would have spoken like this …”. Well, to live this dream there is a wide spectrum of celebrities to choose from for us today. From movie stars to sports personalities, politicians and business tycoons, talk show hosts or even high profile social activists or writers, the list is endless. But when I decided to dream about a day as a celebrity, I ignored this list of common celebrities but went for a different kind - a Connected Celebrity. A person popularly known on account of his connections with celebrities than his actual deeds. For example, Prince Charles’ personal chef will be a connected celebrity and similarly Paris Hilton’s dog trainer will be one.

I call myself a Spiritualized Organic Yoga Guru, one of the most envied positions or tags. To throw some light on the “simple looking deep meaning” title, my patented yoga postures and moves are laced with a tinge of spirituality. Lets not confuse this with religion but its just pure spirituality. “Realize yourself by maintaining a comfortable posture with your hands clasped at your feet and breathing deep” – this is an example of spiritualized yoga. Then moving on with the coinage, today everything is clearly broken down in parts and provided so that clarity is evident and people have the option to pick and choose. The world today popularly calls this as “agile”. In this case, I have brought out yoga regimen for the body, soul, mind and also numerous organs of the body. Hence I added the tag “Organic” to my title. This title stood out for its uniqueness and was well received.

Sunday is one of the busiest days for me. That’s when all the people either individually or as a group plan their spiritually inclined health conscious sessions. If like everyone else, Sunday was an “available for free” day for me too, I would have conveniently added the additional tag “Corporate” to my title. Then it would have read as – Spiritualized Organic Corporate Yoga Guru. Other than the usual planned and routine appointments, today I had a little peculiar one. It was more out of curiosity that I granted some time and not seeing any visible benefits or even the source of reference. A young team of two “Alique Padamsee look alikes” wanted to chat with me for less than an hour about “Brand Building”. They claimed that it will leverage my staggering career and explore international celebrity markets. To achieve this, they had to educate me on the fundamentals and hence, today there was a briefing session on “Brand Awareness” which will be followed by some mushroom type questionnaires. “Instant responses” is what they sought, their communiqué mentioned.

Other than this brand related intrusion, my personal willingness was to lend a long ear to my lady chauffer for her to complete her half finished story from last night. So I will have to plan a long drive today without raising suspicion from anyone in my family. To give a brief background on why I looked forward to this ride is, this lady chauffer had previously worked with the local Dog Owners Association president as a personal driver for his wife and kids. The half finished story was about how he had planned his eight member family with the right sequence and timing. This version came from the wife and now being narrated by a lady chauffer, there was no dearth of spice in the unfinished story.

My Sunday started at 4 am and after quick 52 degree centigrade warm water shower and other related routine activities, I settle for a custom made coffee that’s greatly bound to improve flexibility of the body at the same time nourish with the necessary nutrients. It’s a coffee mixed with steamed, fried and powdered peanuts along with few spoonfuls of mushrooms marinated overnight in Tapioca Juice. Then the first session of the day starts in my digitized meditation room as I handle three different clients in that single session but giving a personal importance to each. For this I use the Video Conferencing facility with four high resolution cameras focused and have asked my clients to atleast have one such camera so that I can watch and correct their mistakes. The retired Supreme Court judge’s wife is very punctual and so is Police commissioner’s Sister-in-law. But the Shipping tycoon’s Mother in law is late as usual. I have taken advantage of this delay by enquiring about the personal welfare of the others. This Video Conference sessions are on alternate weeks and the in between weeks are filled with a similar session attended by a South Indian Actor’s Mother, a Political Activist’s daughter, a foreign diplomat, a leading scriptwriter and her fiancé.

The next one hour is my news paper time. Its mandatory that I sit on the lawn swing and my first read is always Malayala Manorama, Kochi edition. This will be followed by the Wall Street Journal and a print out of the online version of Daily Mirror, London. Breakfast is at 8 am with the entire family of three sons and four daughters who include two sets of triplets. To justify the count, first daughter was mandatory and planned. The next was a wish though as we wanted to square off the family with a daughter and son. But the wish turned out to be a surprise. Well the third was a pure accident as a result of a gross miscalculation. The blame game between me and my wife still continues. It needs the children’s intervention to cool flaring tempers.

Post breakfast there is a long corporate yoga training session for the voluntary activists and their families of a general awareness movement called “Save Cricket”. Its not about the popular game at all but specifically to denounce the growing export of the insects to the third world countries as a crunchy snack. I being an ardent vegetarian promoter gave a whopping twenty percentage discount on my fees based on the advice and recommendation of my media publicity agent. In return I got this well publicized. Later during the day before lunch, there is an advisory session planned with the secretary and fitness trainer of a visiting Venezuelan Women’s volleyball team for effectively planning a string of “Flexibility” workshops for all the players during the ongoing series. They claimed the reason for this is, the stiffness caused by the long haul flight from Venezuela to Mumbai and I was convinced with their claim. A quick thirty minutes tutorial session is scheduled every Sunday for me to learn Japanese. The course is called “Learn Japanese in 4 hours” and is scheduled over a period of 8 weeks. This is to add self credence to the ongoing discussions of a Yoga Exchange Program with a few Japanese universities. Visiting faculties are greatly respected and publicized in Japan I heard. This idea also provided a shadow support to my career plans of going International and was well appreciated by the young blokes from Brand Imaging too. The Kanji symbols were hard to grasp, I must admit.

The lunch was interrupted by a call received by my wife. It was from her sister in the Nilgiris and she wanted to send her daughter to stay with us for a month. The niece has a series of auditions which includes a specific one with a lead actor turned director. For this my Sister-in-law sought my influence. They knew that this director was personally close to me but they did not know the reason for the proximity. I had once helped him by advising his wife to sleep on a mat without pillow for one whole year telling that will straighten her invisible hunch. I gave a half promise to my wife on helping her niece as her dad was helping us by periodically visiting our small plantation near Nilgiris.

An interesting meeting scheduled for the afternoon is with the Movie Professionals association. A hooting siren had dropped in at home to invite for this meeting and it obviously caused resentment from my wife. My eldest son was very excited I could notice. This association was coming up with an International Regional Movie Achievement Awards Event at the foothills of Mount Kinabalu in Borneo Islands belonging to Malaysia. For this event, the opening sequence is a fusion play planned and I have been chosen as one of the members in the choreographer’s panel along with a former Cuban synchronized swimmer, a retired Polish ballet professional, a “Once upon a time aspiring F1 driver” and a classical dance exponent cum “Natyavedika” founder. The co-ordination from each of us was crucial for this fusion play and to achieve this we even had to sit in a particular sequence during our discussions. There were more translators during these meetings.

A sharp observation reported by my nutritionist which said that during lunch I had exceeded my calorie intake by two hundred recommended strongly that I run an extra mile on the treadmill in the evening carrying two dumbbells of one kilogram each. Also, to compensate and cleanse the system, the evening salad snack was reduced to two spoonfuls of chopped ginger and cucumber wrapped in lettuce leaves. During the run I browsed through a magazine and its inside pages revealed that twelve years back I had a secret affair with a Union Minister’s wife. I felt satisfied with the premium paid to the publicist who will also call a press meet for me to automatically deny this allegation and allege all respects to the late minister and his glamorous widow.

My frequent trips to the Middle East to conduct private lessons for the Libyan Intelligence Chief’s extended family located in Amman, also made a small news about my possible terrorist link. The investigative reporter found a connection between the steel will of a terrorists to the rigorous trainings provided by Yoga therapists. I just brushed it aside and tagged that journalist as “non-existent”. The early evening heavy rains delayed the arrival of the award winning playback singer and her family for a closed door multi-layered yoga session at my studio in the basement. This was a little more relaxing time for two reasons. One, the family was not into serious yoga and the second, the singer always rendered one melody when the yoga sessions concluded.

Dinner was at 7.30 and is usually the standard rice porridge along with a scoop of spicy saltwater marinated tender mangoes and roasted pappads. With this one of my busy days was about to end, with only one more activity left - a weekly family discussion session when all the members in the family are required to bring out their problems and difficulties for an open house discussion. During these sessions, I comfortably settle in the reclining cane chair cushioned with natural duck feathers, plug my iPOD and peacefully listen to Lucha Reyes, the hot Peruvian singer while all the problems found their own answers. A soothing melodious end to a connected celebrity’s busy day! I really lived it!

A Lifetime of 4 Hours in Bahrain

Middle East – Synonymous to Saudi Arabia and Dubai. Other well known places in the region include Sharjah, Abu Dhabi, Muscat, Oman, Kuwait, Baharain etc. But how familiar is “well known”? In my case, Not sure. Rather, haven’t given a thought too much.

I admit that I had really assumed, my familiarity with the Middle East was good probably because like many others, I too looked at it as an extension of Kerala. There every household will boast of “someone in Dubai”. That place today is more of a common noun than a proper noun.

Along with the assumed familiarity, a lot more realities were assumed which later I realized were mere myths. On account of the same, I was not much excited when I got the news of an upcoming Dubai event from a friend, for which I was an invitee. My lack of enthusiasm in receiving the news could have possibly dampened his spirits of invitation. Even a possible visit to Burj-Al-Arab did not rake my dormant interests. Another possible reason could be a recently concluded exciting trip to Disney World, Orlando. All said, even an alligator could have been tickled but no fireworks could be ignited in my intestines.

Upon receipt of the tickets and visa, I just did the most mandatory things – exchanged some Dirhams, packed my clothes and checked the flight timings. I did not pay much attention to the airline “Gulf Air” and not wonder why it was not “Emirates” either. This airline change hit me a little at 3.30 am while I stood at the airline counter for collecting my boarding passes. The sleepy looking artificially beautiful girl apologetically mentioned to me that a second boarding pass to Dubai could not be issued at Bangalore but I could collect the same at the transit point. The universally accepted reason fitted well here too – System not working. Anyway none in the queue knew how the different airline systems were inter-linked seamlessly and any reason could be given for a backend error. I immediately rubbed my eyes and read through the travel itinerary given by my agent. All the letters in “Courier” font suddenly appeared in Bold and 18 point size. It dawned on me that my transit was at Bahrain. But the duration was hardly an hour and hence it wasn’t a bother. With the biggest flirtatious grin possible, I thanked the sleepy airline girl and proceeded towards the regulatory and security ordeal.

Seated in a comfortably crumpled position with little leg room and sipping a couple of ounces of well diluted orange juices along with a few power naps, I reached Bahrain. The striking attire of the hostesses kept interrupting my naps voluntarily. The airline service very well reflected the existing market recession but the airport did not. However I did not have the comfort of time to gape at all the extravaganza at the airport as a little taxiing delay gave me only close to forty minutes to get on the next flight. In the next few minutes, Murphy’s law became practically clear to me. “When time mattered most, the longest delays happened”. I was not alone in this ordeal, but had 21 other companions. A uniformed bearded man, whom I initially thought to be a cop, announced that our connecting flight had left and the next flight we could take to Dubai will be at 1.30 pm. This man’s announcement hit me as hard as the shining “Gulf Air” logo on his cap. Quick basic arithmetic and a few glances at my wrist, gave me an idea that I will be spending the next four hours here at the airport. Little did I realize that I was to leave this place a more knowledgeable man.

With four hours at hand, my suppressed urge to smoke propelled up. I still contained them because in the Middle East, “Crime and Punishment” rang huge bells deep inside me. The assumed law was clearly etched in my memory beside “Ravana kidnapped Sita” and “the sun rises in the east”. My first surprise sprang up as a pleasant one when the most welcome sign hung in front of me. It read – “Smoking Room >>” I sprinted in that direction ignoring everything else on the way only to freeze when I saw the “smoking room”. There were people spread everywhere around the place and clouds of smoke stayed in the air. There were people of all colors, shapes, sizes and attire. A couple of women were also there but they apparently appeared to be tourists. Why would tourists come all the way to Bahrain – to smoke? Stupid question, hence ignored. My first myth hit me as a realization. All the men who wear a white robe and a head gear placed on a checkered scarf hanging by the sides were not necessarily sheikhs belonging to any royal family. I could see too many white robed men sporting the same headgear. It was much similar ordeals to count the number of crows near the Madurai Meenakshi Temple.

After a satisfying inhale and exhale exercise, I escaped from what appeared to be the most polluted place on this earth. I then moved on gaping at the numerous duty free shops, the next surprise then immediately banged against me, really hard. It severely shook my assumed beliefs. It confused my fundamentals on geography as well as Culture & Law. All women were supposed to be covered from head to toe in black completely opaque flowing clothes and I did see them too. But what happened in front baffled me completely. A group of four girls sipping coke and munching popcorn, giggling loudly. The surprise element was exposure of almost two-thirds of their skin. They were in spaghetti tops and either denim shorts or track pants. Isn’t Bahrain supposed to be like Saudi, strict Islamic laws implemented? Or are they moderates like Dubai and Malaysia? If so why do I see so many “head to toe” burqa clad women around? I guess they are women. Although no clear signs to prove the point. Are these young girls defying the law? Or are they foreigners and are unaware of the law? My head spun. I automatically got a 360 degree view of the lavish glittering airport.

I then immediately started my hunt for a “Know this country” type of book. A typical guide for a first time tourist to Bahrain. Very soon I realized that the airport had more smoking rooms than bookshops. Shall I sum up and call them Illiterate Smokers? – a wild thought raced. My inner voice was quick in its reflex and responded – Islamic Law is severe and strict. My thoughts were erased. Only then I realized that I had to power of “Selective Amnesia” but that needs to be driven by fear for life. I can choose to forget what I wanted. Only when life is at stake, all such inherent and dormant powers come to light. My search for a tourist guide now broadened and I started looking for a bookshop and now that again broadened and I was now looking for a “Store finder” board. My instincts made me stop in front of a shop, bright with dominating crimson red. I was pulled in to gape at the merchandise hanging all over like a kitten looking glued at an aquarium. Only the word FERRARI floated in front of my eyes. I then remembered that it was the inaugural Formula One race year at Bahrain and had just concluded too. So the gripped fever still persisted. My eyes flew out of their sockets when I saw the price tag on a Collarless Tee as 6.05 and 3.10 for a cap. My immediate calculations led my hands to my wallet. Approximately Rs 60-70 for the Tee and about Rs 35-40 for the cap. This was a jackpot. I definitely wanted to pick 5 Tees. Before I swiped my card, I wanted to confirm the conversion as I placed the currency of Bahrain at par with Dubai. My ignorance fed this assumption. I fled back a few shops to a local bank’s currency exchange window. It had bright LEDs displaying the exchange rates prominently. The new findings created a huge dent on my desires. Conversion rate was over a hundred against the rupee. All of a sudden the Ferrari merchandise shop looked like just another shop. More importantly the pretty shop assistant’s grin looked like that of an Iguana.

At the next immediate “smoking room” I lit one more cigarette and turned back to the gate where my flight to Dubai would arrive in little less than three hours. I dropped all my shopping plans and convinced myself that Bahrain is an expensive place. After a call to my friend in Dubai informing him about the unexpected delay, I planned to settle into a comfortable chair and finish the two books I had with me. The Mermaid Chair was particularly interesting. When a monk is harboring erotic thoughts with respect to a married neighbor, even a Thesaurus will be interesting.

I approached a comfortable corner and placed my hand baggage along the sides. Pulled out the Mermaid Chair and looked around once more before I dived into the Monk’s disturbed mind. An approaching family caught my attention. A man in white robes and the usual head gear was followed by three women in full black attire. Though a common sight in the country, I tried to place the three women in a family grid along with the man. Man-Wife-two daughters. Man-Wife-Mom-Daughter. Man-wife-aunt-Daughter. Or could it be Man and three wives? The possibility was quite strong and suddenly I envied the short stout sheik. I was only able to conclude that I was better than him on all counts yet he had three wives and here I was, a lone divorcee. Really cruel are the ways of God, I concluded and was convinced. In the meantime more women in Jeans and T shirts and shorts and see thru pull overs passed by. I changed my perception of Bahrain where I concluded that one will not be stoned to death for thinking about a stranger’s wife or daughter. Great are the ways of God. Atleast he is lenient in this part of the world. But the man with three wives really haunted me. How could be pull this and manage it too. Moreover “Arabia” for me was only famous for “Coffee”, “Women” and “Horses” not smart men. As an onlooker the biggest advantage with this All Black Robes is the fact that, I had all the liberty to imagine and conclude how they looked inside. For my own selfish feel good factors, I placed all the buxom beauties of Hollywood and Bollywood inside these burqas. Now my envy towards the “man with three wives” shot up beyond limits. I started seriously concentrating on the Monk’s thoughts coming out from the book that I held. I even thought a brief meditation will definitely help calm my disturbed mind and troubled nerves. I would have hardly covered a few pages and was anticipating that in the next 3 pages atleast, the monk would have seduced the lady outside the log cabin by the stream on moist grasses, when a voice from outside the book called out “Saar”!

The tone and accent was unusual in this part of the world. A rather shabby person in crumpled clothes and a narrow face with broken brownish unkempt hair. I rightly guessed he is my countryman. I faked an unsuspecting look and nodded interrogatively at him while genuinely I expected him to ask for a favour that I will politely refuse with great difficulty. He immediately asked, “Aapko hindi maloom hai”. He was inching closer to my expected line. “Ji haan. Kya baat hai” I retorted. Quite cautiously I did not address him as Bhai or Bhaiyya. He seemed to feel more comfortable by my response and tone. He poured out in a chaste dialect that I understood as follows: “Can you look after my bags here. I will return quickly after a visit to the restroom” All of a sudden security concerns took over me. He seemed a suspect and myself a gullible victim. I gathered enough courage and asked him for more details regarding his native, where he is heading to, anyone else travelling with him etc. He smiled at me, sat down in an empty seat beside me and started his narration. His first sentence shocked me. Probably his presentation skills were excellent. He caught his audience attention in the first few seconds with his opening line. Pointing at so many people seated in various rows in that area he said that they all have been in the airport for the last 4 days. And they are leaving by the midnight flight back to India. Several thoughts pounded my brain ranging from silly to unimaginable ones. I looked at him blank. “Saar..” he continued his story which turned out to be a tale of misery and betrayal. Not completely unfamiliar to us, thanks to our movies. He narrated it with so much of emotion and with ease that he made me feel what they are undergoing. For the first time in 18 years, I looked up and thanked for the job I held.

Twenty three people from five nearby villages, paid a large sum each to an agent who promises them jobs in the “Middle East”. They were to work in some construction projects. They only mention Dubai. But their tickets were till Bahrain and no visa. He mentioned that someone would come to pick them with the papers, they were told. First three days they were in detention. That morning, they were brought to the place where they could take a flight to India back. This even came in the local daily as a small new item considering the large number of people. But he said, none came looking for them or seeking to get them out. My first thought went towards, what’s the Embassy doing? Its supposed to assist its citizens in distress. The high-commissioners appear periodically for participation in some events or inaugurating some functions. These people never knew the existence of an entity called “Indian Embassy”. Eternal bliss I shall call this.

I nodded to accept that I shall take care of his bags. He did return almost immediately. But I did not realize the passage of time. I drifted away into the numerous situations that played in front of me. I put myself in each character and found everything difficult to manage. I pinched myself and felt nice about it. The man with three wives also seemed to be a nice guy after all. I once again remembered, “I cried because I did not have slippers until I saw a man who did not have feet”

A boarding announcement about the flight to Dubai was heard. I gathered my hand baggage, stuffed the book in. The monk was still 3 pages away from seducing the lady outside the log cabin along the river on the moist grass. I had also skipped my lunch. I smiled and waved at my gullible friend and walked into the aero bridge.

Heard the female Dolania americana mayfly lives not more than 5 minutes. Comparatively I had a much longer life in Bahrain – A life time of 4 hours!!!

Absolutely Nothing!!

Today I am sitting with a blank mind, a blank page but a full heart. Before I begin anything, let me make an admission to you all so that I will do justice to whatever I am going to write below. The primary inspiration to write this mail came from an unexpected quarter. I can rather put in a little more clarity by saying that it came from an “undisclose-able” source or simple and straight “a Secret Source”. So the mystery element is perfectly set to read ahead.

Now coming over to the actual blog content, its going to be about nothing. Ooops! Did I get it right! Yes, nothing. Can we write something about nothing. Must be definitely possible (ofcourse we all know that “impossible” is a word found in the “Fools Dictionary”). If magicians can bring out objects out of nothing, so can we write. After all we are also magicians.

When we say that I saw nothing or I heard nothing, then we must also be able to define Nothing. I can confidently say that in a legal text we will find the definition as “the absence of everything is nothing”. My confidence stems from the definition of “Intra-state trade” that I studied during my ICWA way back in 1990 (subha, sudha, Murali do you folks recall this?). As per the Octroi Act, they define Intra-state trade as “Any trade that happens outside all other states, is intra-state trade”. Going by the same principle, our definition must also be true. I can pull in one more perfect example for this. If you ask an ace photographer as to what is Black, he will say, “the absence of everything” is black. This can also be defined as “The presence of nothing” is Black. Just like, Darkness is the absence of light. So a concept called darkness does not exist, its only that light exists and its absence is what we call as darkness. It was quite dark means little light was there.

Why I felt confident about writing on nothing is based on one more aspect. There are several leaders who talk for hours together about nothing. We would have experienced it in our certain classes too. The lecturer would keep the class engaged for a whole hour and if you check what has he covered, well nothing. A more relevant example which many of us would have definitely experienced is during the earlier years of our life (later years also possible), when cupid would have aimed arrows right at our hearts and its effect on us. The two people (with Cupid’s heart problem) can sit seeing each other and talk for hours together. All through this duration, the phrases “then?” “then you tell” (“aprom?” and “aprom nee sollu”) would come up frequently. Once they have parted (finally!!!), try giving a pen and paper to one of them and ask them to write two lines on what they conversed, they will go blank. That’s because they spoke “nothing” again. In our vernacular Tamil, they gave a very downgraded term for this called “peanuts” (kadalai). What a disgrace and embarrassment for the “sweet nothing” talkers. Also nothing is the most popular “Lie” that has ever been told and is still being told. There will be a million situations when the immediate escape route is to say “Nothing”. Its total inexperience and panic that makes them say that. Because, the moment someone says “Nothing” then it’s a clear message that there is “something” and its been pushed under wraps. A drunken husband also, we find in movies gets this response from his irritated wife when he comes home inebriated at night and asks “whats for dinner” Point blank response – Nothing!. When a student is sitting in the room and supposed to be studying, suddenly the father or mother barge in, they find that he/she is staring at the wall or window. They ask, whats happening? And the immediate response will be "Nothing ma". :)

Now if so much can happen about nothing, why not we also write something about nothing! Does this look justified now? So let me start writing about nothing.

But looks like this has already taken about 750 words. Anything more than this, brings monotony to any reader unless I include a couple of fights, three sentiments, a few romances and a grand final get together (it becomes a movie script).

This was just an introduction to “nothing”.

So folks, see you in the next!!!