Destiny

I write this sitting in Bed 1, Juniper ward, St. Peter’s Hospital. This has reference to my previous post – my cycle. A nasty accident and I am lucky to be alive. Crossing a T junction when a car which never bothered to stop hit me from the side. I experienced anti-gravity for sometime till it decided to obey Newton and got me down flat on the ground. Sum total: A broken arm that needed a surgery this morning to fix in a metal plate to hold the bone together, bruises on my face and a couple of needles sticking in my body.

The cycle is a mess, wont ride again. I will have that metal strip in my hand for the rest of my life triggering off metal detectors everywhere I go. Pretty cool eh – Terminator style. Had my first dab of Morphine that made me delirious, heady, light.

Now back home, discharged from the hospital. Can’t type more but wanted to update you all.

Tour de London

Have you ever wondered how the makers of BSA Champ and Atlas cycles would be turning in their graves due to, lack of oxygen aside, the fact that countries like UK have made cycling an expensive rich man's option. Let me explain and pardon me if I end up getting too much into penny counting.

I had enough of walking around in London, waiting for buses to come, watching couples canoodling on bus stops much to the amusement of Indians (esp. the types who look at you from the corner of their eyes with that "I am checking you out" stare while trying to dig their nose or twirl their beard, if a Sardar) and generally losing precious time due to this dependency. So I decided to get myself a bicycle. Now before you raise your eyebrows and say - "Oh, so middle class" - let me narrate events that will make you guys look like the 4th cousin of Mittal's head cook's night shift assistant's port man.

I first went down to some bike shops here and asked them to give me a quote. First the jargon - Shimano gears, grip gears, or flick gears. No no, I want 1 gear. I no race. No sir, you must have gears, we don't sell bikes without gears. Alright alright, how much do they cost. Well mate, that one over there will cost you about 580 pounds plus VAT. Hmmmm, one cycle or a dozen? One cycle only. Oh that is mighty generous of you to give me one cycle for just 580 pounds. Move on. How about that one there? Sir that one is not recommended for you - it is for 18 years and below. I don't care, it fits me perfect - can't help it if you guys are in a hurry to reach 6 feet when you have 60 years for it. No sir, I am afraid we cannot sell that to you. Ok @!#!@#!.

I then looked up on the internet for some second hand deals. Found a couple and suddenly found the apple of my eye (no, not her) going at 20 pounds. Off I go to meet this Algerian who is selling his 18 gear Shimano cycle. It looked a beauty to me and had it been in India, I would have been the hottest guy on/off the block on 18 gears. I pay him, cycle down only to realise the rear tyre is a flat. Oh well, just a quick job I guess. I celebrated my cheap deal with a 10 pound dinner.

So the next day, I get into the car with Ram (my landlord) who begins by taking me to Halfords - a huge showroom just for bikes. Err, excuse me, I have a flat tyre. Sorry, we can't do that for you? Kyuuunnnnnn? You need to make an appointment for this and we are booked for next 3 weeks. You can buy a tube if you want. 3 weeks???? Indian patience was never a virtue in Rig Veda. Hey look, I will pay you extra, just do it. Can't, we don't do no repairs on Saturday and Sunday. Ahh, so now I have to time my punctures to match your store timings. Ok $#@$#@.

Next stop at another store - Can you fix my tyre. Sure, let me take a look. No we can't. Kyuuuuuun? Your bike is not roadworthy condition and we cant let it pass our store. Dear Harishchandra ki naajayaz aulaad, it is me who has to ride this bike and not you, and I need it for a daily 1 km commute in a non traffic area. No sir, it don't work like that. I can sell you the tube if you want. Ok ok, give me the tube and a cycle lock. What!! This flimsy lock costs 5 pounds?? #@$#@$.

I get back home, put the cycle down, summon all my vidya (no don't even bother with that joke, I never knew any girl called Vidya) and start removing the tyre slowly prying it out and then the tube. Inflate it, put it in a mug of water and start looking for leakages. And guess what, the only place where there was a "puncture" was in the valve which just needed a bit of tightening with a pair of tweezers. That's it!!! That was it all.

So now I have a functional cycle with a spare tube and a flimsy lock which I plan to replace. If all goes well the bike should about cost me about 25 pounds and throw in a dinner as well. Convert that into Indian rupees and it is upwards of 2000 rupees for a second hand cycle. Now the business plan - if I import cycles from India at about 4000 rs for geared ones and sell here for 150 pounds I will make a 200% profit. If I open up a puncture shop and repair tyres anytime during the day I will make 3 pounds per puncture. Assume I put it up in a premium location and also strew up some nails 100 m each side of the door, I should probably have about 50 cases at the bare minimum. That is 150 pounds of earnings as well. Per day. What do you think I should do?

Burra Sahib

Life's been a rush. Literally. Living all by yourself sometimes can be a very busy thing to do. Like trying to find a new place to live since the current place is too costly to afford. And then packing up and moving lock stock and barrel. In meantime, life takes me to Edinburgh (pronounced as Edin-burra), the Scottish city with its old impressive castles, baroque architecture, psychedelic themed hotel and generally a different clean vibe from the hustle bustle of London. The country side, the choppy, frigid sea from the cliff and a deep whiff of fresh air. Ahh!!

Mommy can't stop indulging herself with wedding preparations and I have never seen her happier ever. Dad does subtle things like send me list of things I should buy for her and for the wedding. I spend most of my time in either booking tickets to travel to a client or calling up the airlines for a refund. Else cleaning my current house to make it look all spic and span for the very important final checkout inspection. And running in between meetings to call her. So now perhaps you know why I am busy all day.

In a yet another professional development, got through an IBM leadership program that sends people to an emerging country for a short stint to work on public policy projects. Don't know where will this take me, but some probable countries are Romania, Vietnam, Ghana, China, Brazil and South Africa. My gut says it might be Vietnam but let's wait and watch where does my posting come on to.

So that is enough update to all those who would care to know. When do I write back? I don't know - my previous promises of being regular have failed miserably so I am not even going to make a commitment. I am just through a busy phase in life, if it is excuse enough :)

In Dreams Are Realities

If I were in a state of utopia, I would like to not have dreams or nightmares in my sleep. I would like to have someone cook for me. I would like to have something other than rice and potatoes. I would like to not dread weekends. I would like to learn roller blading. I would like to buy a cycle. But alas, utopia is an ideal unattainable state but the quest to reach there can make you do a lot of things.

To work backwards in a Christopher Nolan fashion, I have too much spare time, err, sometimes. Which leads to me to question why do I exist other than to lead a eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep lifestyle. Surely, there must be a better route to happiness, self actualisation. Perhaps for once spend on something without thinking of the tangible RoI. Cos if that were to happen, then weekends could be spent learning how to skate. A skater might have better access to Indian restaurants that can provide with better grub than what I dole out everyday at my place. It would save me from having my usual escapades in the kitchen with..ahem, myself, trying to make rajma and in the process burning my little toe of all the things. It is a thing since a wise lady mentioned that little toes are useless, need no nail cutting, polish and essentially just stick there to give feet a symmetric image and not make them feel bad of having two less digits as compared to your hands.

Of course, terrific rajma comes with a tradeoff on sleep. Weird dreams and pleasant nightmares. Those that make you get up unpleasant and groggy, rather tired and worn out instead of waking fresh like a bunch of flowers. Since I pass via the MI6 headquarters everyday, reading a newspaper in the bus, most of my dreams are about being a secret service agent who pseudo-recruits journalists to my company and then puts them on stinging "happening" assignments.

On another tangent, as the background setting, bright sun that shines in different parts of the world with different intensities plays a vital role in well being. A regular 4.00 pm alarm that wakes you up from slumber in a lonely house with just the sound of the refrigerator for company on a gloomy day. And just as you were about to put this post up, mum says "No skating during shaadi year. I don't want any risky business".

Such is life. Such is sleep. Such were dreams.

The Journey So Far

Since now I can comfortably look back and brood over the journey so far, let me reveal some amazing gems I have met, wasted time on, and in some cases money too. The impetus for this post came from a discussion I had a couple of days back that probably I could write a book on some of these wacky people (atleast they seemed wacky to me) and it just might be a best seller. I still can't describe all, but I think two of them take the cake hands down.

Girl 1:
This one has been a huge source of entertainment to me, my family, my friends, my office and everyone I have met over a dinner table. Lets call her "Gadadhari Bheem" similar to the one in Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron, one who wakes up suddenly, delivers his dialogues and goes to sleep again.

Her family was into full time interviewing business, her brother interviewed me 3 times over a span of 3 months. In other words, one interview per month and then no response. Then suddenly a call 30 days later, "So we had spoken the last time...". Ahem dude, isnt the follow up call really quick? I mean, if you want to evaluate 20 other guys during the 1 month then dont do all round 1 together. Stagger it so that I get a feeling you care about me. So well, the girl finally speaks to me, maybe twice and then comes up with the mother of models. I mean a spreadsheet model.

She apparently thought the process of arranged marriage is fuzzy and she wanted a method to the madness. So up comes a 64 row item sheet on compatibility match. Much like that geek compatibility match groom in Namastey London. I resisted but she insisted that I fill up and then she would fill up and then we will get on a call to discuss. Wonder if this was like a project scoping excercise. After 4 reminders, I filled it, she filled as well and then said "We need to discuss". Groan.

I expected the discussion to go on things more substantial (and if you take a look at the spreadsheet and the line items, you will know what I mean) but she had other plans.
She: "You know, you like reading but I don't."
Me: "So don't read, you are not joining a university"
She: "But we dont match here. I feel it will be a significant issue going forward"
Me: "This will be an issue??"
She: "You like impactful and meaningful comedy movies. I like bollywood movies"
Me: "So?"
She: "This might be an issue. Cos I like bollywood and would like to watch only that"
Me: "Umm, you know what - lets just digest this sheet for some more time and then get back"
Click.
We never spoke again.

I have attached the sanitized spreadsheet here for you all to take a look. It has been widely circulated amongst most people and who knows, it is currently a popular fwd as well.

Girl 2:
Lesser said the better. If you have seen Farhan Akhtar's "Luck By Chance" then this is Isha Sharvani minus the looks.
She: "You know, I love my dawgiieeeeeeeeee" (That stupid voice all girls speak in when they like to go kid like and a guy invariably ups his manly voice to show he is more mature)
Me: "Oh what breed"
She: "No, it is a stuffed toy. I always have him on my bed and every morning I kiss it"
Me: That stupid smile which wants to laugh, cry and run at the same time.
She: "Do you like toys?"
Me: "Umm depends...what "toys" are we speaking about?" [Maybe she has a wild side]
She: "I have a lot of teddy bears in my room. I really love teddy bears"
Me: Are you still sleeping in your pram?

Thankfully this never worked out, I did not want to buy bears all my life, for her, then kids, then kids kids. Or maybe she would have made me a Teddy Bear Tychoon. TBT. To Be Terminated.

Of course, as usual you never get to hear their side of the story and to some extent this might be biased reporting, but mera blog to main mahaan!!

Land Ahoy!!

It has been 7 years of informal search, 2 years of formal search and several blog posts later that today I write that one post most of you have been waiting for. Not out of joy but out of sheer relief that you will no more be required to read the same genre posts about finding the right one. Cos this time I have found the right one!! And how...

A month ago, one day before my 26th birthday comes a ping and a mail. Like the many. But this one does not act like she is buying a Pomeranian. Rather comes restrained and stable. We just warm up over the month, till I fly down to India finally to take a call. And we both take the call. In 24 hours I move from I to We. The wait seems like a very well deserved wait. So now officially I am booked and hooked. Hopefully the next genre of posts to decorate this blog will be on my goof ups with this phase of my life.

Till then it is spiraling ISD calls and doodling in meetings.

Vini, Vidi, Get Lost!!

This one has to take the top prize in terms of passion writing. It is as usual written as first person and there are 3 characters. Me, my inner self and she. Yes, the donkey comes last.

Background: Another of the many alliances that came by and the cell number passed on to me to make first contact. Very much like ET..the aliens never make the first contact. We will call her "She" but if you look close enough in this post you will find her name.

Action:
Tring tring. She picks.

Me: Hi!! Kanishka here, I just had your number passed onto me. Good time to talk?
She: Ya ya. [silence>]
Inner self: Oh the annoying silences. I never know where to start from.
[Some filler chatter]
Me: So what do you do?
The action begins...
She: Why?? Is it not written in MY CV..sorry biodata?
Me: Yes, but just thought if you would maybe tell me more what you do. Law has many facets you see.
She: Oh you have a preference on the profession the girl should be on is it? Looks like all techies like techies..she continues speaking
Inner self: Babes, I just asked what you do. If you are embarrassed don't answer. I will ask Dolly and Chameli about it.
She: Still speaking
Me: I am not a techie btw..[Attempt lost in her drone]
She: Still speaking. Somewhere I caught her say, so what do you think I do? What is your understanding of law?
Me: uh, um..
Inner self: Say My honour and bow
Me: Corporate legalities, LCs contracts etc
She: You are partially incorrect.
[Note the negative tone, partially incorrect not partially correct]
She: Still speaking and explaining what she does. End sentence with her first "Anyways"
Inner self: Are you sure you are not into criminal law?
Me: Ah nice
[She decides that it is time she practiced criminal Law on me thinking I am Chilka Shakeel]
She: So you have been always in Blore?
Me: Yes
She: How boring. Don't you get bored staying in one city.
Inner self: Theoretically I have been to more cities and for longer duration out of India than your family has been. Two, nomads last got snuffed out hunting for mammoths in 10000 BC.
Me: Each to his own.
She: I hate Blore and its people, the food, the weather everything but anyways
Me: Hmm
Inner self: Anyone got a Colt .45?
She: Do you know about my premier college?
Inner self: Never heard anyone say "my premier college"
Me: Yes I know of your illustrious cousin in Blore, the NLSIU. They are next door.
She: Oh I hate them. They are such snobs and have an attitude. But anyways.
Inner self: Black pot kettle calling?
She: So let us talk something light. Dont you have any hobbies?
Me: Depends on what you define as hobby, but I am passionate about teaching.
She: You teach!!
Inner self: Looks like this impressed her.
She: You teach..haha..you must be kidding. How boring can you get. Where exactly do you teach?
Me: IIMB, SP Jain and other places...
[Still laughing]
Inner self: Listening really is not your strength, is it?
She: Don't you do anything creative? Like reading or listening to music.
Inner self: That is creative? Entire world reads newspapers and listen to music. Mighty creative people huh?
Me: I don't think that is remotely creative. It is a normal hygiene thing everyone does. But if you think that is an hobby then yes.
She: Well you could read different genres. That is creative. But anyways
Inner self: Yes, autowaalas read Bangalore Crime Diary. Different genre and very creative.
Me: Hmm
She: I am not like the losers who work entire day in front of a laptop and come back home and open the laptop. I would like to read a book when I come back home. But anyways
Me: Hmmm. Very creative.
She: Do you play any sports?
Me: Swimming and badminton
She: Oh badminton? Generally I thought short people find it difficult to play badminton because they can't reach the net or run between courts. But anyways.
Inner self: Below the belt blows huh?
She: What else do you do?
Me: I write and blog quite a bit
She: Oh what kind? Has it been published? What genres?
Inner self: She has remembered her classes on English literature and is currently in a core dump mood to swamp you with jargon.
Me: Humour, satire...
Inner self: ...and soon personal slander
She: Political satire, slapstick? Which kinds
Me: Not political. Gen anything under the sun.
She: Oh so you don't like politics. Quite strange for a person to not be interested in politics.
Inner self: I don't write about procreation. Does not mean I am not interested in it.
She: Anything more?
Inner self: 10 mins of ISD talk time wasted on talking to a lawyer who probably has her BF sitting next to her. Send reimbursement expense to her dad. Maru gene kicking in..end the call fast, no more financial loss and don't waste time abusing her. Do it free of cost on the blog.
Me: Nope. that is all.
She: Are you sure
Inner self: I told you she was in criminal law. Are you sure this is the weapon you used to kill her?
Me: Yes.
She: Ok
Me: Bye.

Epilogue: No doing marriage. No problem. No interested in talk. No problem. Insulting and rude. Now big problem.