The Miracle Man

Another morning, another airport, I walked into the security hold area sleepily. The crisp and mildly chilly air in the new Bangalore airport felt like the tender caress of a sedative to an insomniac, something that doesn't quite put you to sleep yet dulls the senses into a pleasant haze. As i wandered past the open restaurant through a maze of blackberries, laptops, cellphones and the hapless humans attached to them I was suddenly brought to a stop by a startling sight.

There was this 40 something guy in a suit sitting at the counter, drinking a tall glass of beer. Normally this wouldn't be such a big deal but I looked at my watch, 7:15 AM. I looked up again, he didn't look the drunk type, no pouches below his eyes, no glassy eyes, in fact he looked like he was in the prime of his health. What more he seemed to be relishing every sip of his ber. I didn't even know that the served beer this early in the morning. As I stood there gaping at this guy enjoying his beer, I realised soon that I wasn't alone, there were quite a few people staring at him too.

As he smacked his lips after a long sip, I could feel my lips turning dry. The very concept of having a beer that early in the morning seemed so wrong yet so alluring. He represented everything that was the exact opposite of me. Here I was running against time, all the time, I couldn't think of the last time I had that look that he had on his face, the one of absolute contentment. For that matter, I couldn't think of the last time I had a beer, I mean sit there and just enjoying every sip. It was almost as if I stopped living, a long time ago.

And there he was, drinking that beer, looking like he didn't have a care in the world, didn't look like he had any to worry about, nor a boss to pander, a team to motivate or even a a family to get back to that day. Heck, he was in a suit, so there wasn't a pre-packaged three nights four days whirlwind trip of Europe, which we working stiffs call a holiday to go to either. He was just like me and the dozen other who were staring at him, yet so different.

He could do something we couldn't. It was as simple as that.

After 15 years, of working my heart out, I couldn't do what he did. Frustration welled in my heart, I looked around, at the terminal screen, I had 20 minutes before boarding. I walked over to the counter next to the man with determination, sat on the barstool and set my laptop below and call the bartender over. 'A pint of Fosters please' I said. I swear the guy did a double take and with a slow shake of his head got a clean beer mug, filled it up and placed it in front of me. My fingers were shaking a little as I held the mug and took a long resolute sip. I couldn't describe the feeling of thrill that I felt when the golden nectar flowed through me. After a few more deep sips, I looked around, at the man and the others who were now looking at me. Suddenly my shoulders felt a little lighter and I flashed a smile at them, then I lifted my beer mug in a salute to my fellow working stiffs. The world seemed like such a cheerful place after all.

Just then, I heard the man beside ask the bartender for the check and as the bartender rang up the bill I choked on my beer when I saw I the display screen of his billing machine which was customer facing. My inspiration for corporate nirvana had been drinking a popular non-alcoholic beer which was no more potent than a glass of coke.

Yesterday my daughter said the first clear sentence on the phone, 'Appa, I love you!', of course she did not realise that I was on the other end of the line, she thought as usual her Mom had given her the phone for her to have her make-believe conversation.

I don't really have words to describe..

Deep Thought

Is the goal of television viewing to watch the programs which are interrupted by advertisements or watch advertisements interrupted by programs.

Numb

Mumbai - 26th November 2008

I feel Numb.

I feel angry.

I feel frustrated.

Most of all I feel let down, by myself and my society.

We in India live between two poles, one of idealism and the other of crass opportunism. Very seldom if ever do those two poles ever cross each other's paths. It is as if we dream of an ideal india but have settled comfortably in this opportunistic version without much qualms (have I read that somewhere, maybe).

We accept loose standards as we expect others to accept our loose standards. We object to corruption and inefficiency till the same corruption and inefficiency is needed to get us out of trouble.

The change we want, we expect others to deliver, maybe our politicians, maybe our media, maybe our police or judiciary without realising that these are people are but reflections of our collective souls, they are us. Change if anything needs to come from within and if we ever inventory the things that need change, it is indeed a very long and depressing list.

Only in moments of anger or sadness do we voice our idealism yet we willingly shelve the idealism along with the changing winds of the media stories.

In time, we will forget the security lapses, the huge delays to get the NSG in action, the snipers who didn't even have telescopic lenses and the absolute leadership vacuum this country went through the last few days.

I would daresay we would forget even those who lost their lives and also the bravery of heroes like Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan, ATS Chief Hemant Karkare and many others. As horrible and callous as that thought sounds now, history suggests that we will do just that.

I feel angry with us the society, individually and collectively for this ability to easily forget and move on. We may be eloquant in our words, for awhile and even be moved by our own belief of what is right but let a few weeks pass and we WILL forget.

We will go back to our coccoon of our daily lives, living in the false impression that we and our near and dear are and will always be safe, not knowing that our very acceptance of the inefficiency that surrounds us and is fed by us is putting everything we cherish in danger.

If we crave change let us change ourselves first and let us for heavens sake never ever forget.

Who Wears The Pants? An Economist's View

Tim Hartford of the Undercover Economist fame in answer to a question "I am a father of three teenagers and happily married for almost 20 years. In my opinion the secret to my success is a traditional one, which is that there is no doubt about who wears the trousers. I am wondering whether there is any support in economic theory for my view?", opines,

The paterfamilias household is no more.

How, then, should we reconcile this with your own situation, which seems comfortably wedged in the 1950s? My guess is that your wife and children have decided that it suits them to maintain your delusions of control.

Sigh. Guess my gut-feel was right after all. Read the full reply here.

Money Money Money...

I'm not against Reality TV per se, I happen to like a few of the shows the Amazing Race, The Weakest Link etc. But it's wierd that almost most of these shows are now about bagging some big chunk of change (when they are not about some dysfunctional celeb that is). I remember the days when the ole quiz shows run in India (Quiz Time by Siddharth Bannerjee comes to mind) etc used to be really nail biting and highly interesting but the winners didn't get a lot of money just a memento or something like that. The point was to compete for the sake of competition.

Take a show like the Amazing Race for instance there are millions of folks who would just give their left arm to take part in an across the world competition like that (yours truly included). So why the million bucks?

With more and more money involved shows that have started lowering their standards substantially, why else would you have a show like 'Are you smarter than a fifth grader?'You may say that this kind of a show is more about pressure and stuff like that but thats just for the contestants, what about the viewing audience, are these guys promoting the quiz or someone walking away with a pot load of money. Think about it.

Money used to be a ways and means of obtaining some of the things you want in life but isn't it becoming our central quest? Are we really ok with that?

Are you smarter than a 5th grader?

After losing the elections Sarah Palin was asked to look into the camera and say "I'm not smarter than a fifth grader". Apparently the question thet flummoxed her was "Is Africa a Continent or a Country?", without using any of her of her cheats (copy, peek or save) she confidently replied "Country"!

Well this would have been just a funny incident if we forget the fact that this lady was pretty close to being a 72 year old heartbeat away from being the President of United States. Watch the Fox News report...




(What the f*** was McCain thinking? h/t Talking Points Memo)

HISTORIC!

Random News

America Votes. The Dow Jones is up 284 pts the last time I checked, what do they know?

Is TV a reflection of the society itself or does society imitate TV?. A study now links teen pregnancies with Television in the US.

A coupla comedians in Montreal called up Sarah Palin pretending be the French President Nicholas Sarkozy. I guess she couldn't see France from her front door, coz she was punk'd!

Back to the Future. Could the world economy be back to a Bretton Woods type structure? Gold, anyone?

And the serious news of the day Simon Cowell gets dumped! Apparently his girlfriend didn't enjoy his singing in the bathroom so much. Hehe Ok I made the last thing up.

Why do we take for granted the things we should cherish the most? What if there was no tomorrow? or next week? or next year?

Something to think about

We are a dirty & disorderly country, right? So how come our Airport terminals are so clean? How come the new corporate offices are so spic and span? What about those shiny clean malls? How come people don't drop things on the floor, spit on the stairways or urinate on the side of the building there? How come people queue up politely in Airports, Offices & Malls (and rush into trains & busses) The argument that the kind of people who use Airports, Malls and work out of swanky offices are different doesn't really hold much water anymore. Since the very same people also use trains, busses and the roads as well.

In one of the schools that I had spent time in, (I say spent time in, since to say that I studied in any of those would be stretching reality to it's limits), the Principal tested out a new way of vending out packets of sweet at the school canteen. He left a big vessel of sweets and a bowl to collect 25 paise coins (one per every packet of sweet) and there was no one to supervise the students. Sure there were some students who found this a great opportunity but there were lots of others who actually took a packet of sweets and left a 25 paise coin in the bowl. This initiative was a resounding success in the school.

While I know that the analogy is a lil sketchy my point is that people are pretty much the same anywhere in the world, it's how they are treated and the quality of amenities & service that they get, that determines how they behave in an environment. I'm sick of stupid radio & tv shows that talk about 'educating' people and creating 'awareness' about keeping their city clean. Bullshit! The problem doesn't lie with someone throwing garbage & stuff on the road, the problem lies in the fact that there is no other place to throw it in.

Give people better roads, better public utlities, better sidewalks and I firmly believe that people will be responsible in their use. Our collective responsibility is in holding our goverment & the local administration accountable for delivering the same, now how in the hell do we start doing that?

Obama '08

Most people I talk to are fascinated by the American Elections which are just around the corner. That's most people except my wife, she thinks that Barack Obama takes way too much of my time. Admittedly, I've been actively following the primaries and then the general election campaign on a nearly hourly basis to an extent that I'm addicted to it. What can I say, I guess I'm a closet soap opera fanatic.

You have to admit though the Americans are like the neighbours who live next door, in a big fancy house made of glass. You can look into their home pretty much anytime you want and find out what exactly was going on in there. This is probably the reason why most of us around the world follow them culturally.

Given that they've lived in a glass house all this while where the world can see what they do everyday, they have grown oblivious of this fact in itself. I'm not sure if most Americans know the keen interest that people around the world show in their politics. Some of us mask our interest by touting that what happens in the USA affects the rest of the world (to a limited extent it might) but the reality is that we like looking into our neighbours house.

I think the world made it's choice in the elections quite early. From Europe to Asia to South America the clear choice seems to be Barack Obama. I wonder if this kind of an attention is really good for international relations, lets say if McCain was to win the elections.

I guess most people around the world know what a joke Sarah Palin has been over the last month or so, but the reality is that she has a chance of the Vice President and maybe even the President of the United States. I don't know about you but if I were ever a world leader and I was negotiating a deal with her, I wouldn't take her at her words (or her winks). But she could still potentially have the most powerful job in the world. I'm guessing here but I don't think the Republicans on the whole have a lot of fans around the world. On a positive note though I think an Obama Presidency would give mend the American image around the world to a large extent and that is possible because of the international attention he has got so far.

The Presidential elections with its 2 year long cycle (and a rich and often confusing tradition) really doesn't consider the fact that in the modern world, while the American people go through the happy job of vetting their potential leaders, world is also doing the same. And that necessarily need not be the best thing for a new leader or a new administration.

But what the heck, nothing beats the buzz of the election drama (The latest Gallup Poll has Obama up by 9 points!!).

Sour Grapes

Both my stories didn't make it to the Quick Tales finals (134 chosen out of some 1100 stories). Normally I wouldn't have minded it so much but then I read a story that revolved around a urinal made the cut.

Pissed me off!

YABADABADOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

My daughter just said DADA!! Not once not twice but again and again and again!! WOOOHOO!!

Will write something coherent when my feet hit the ground.

There is a special series in the Guardian on how to write which i found very interesting. It's a must read for wanna be writers (like me).

Cross posted at Live Journa's India Writing Community.

(h/t bluespriite)

Strong Medicine

At work, some days are good, some are bad and some are really bad. I had couple of those really bad days last week. I had two days of being on the road on work, quite literally, having to contend with lack of sleep, a bad stomach, motion sickness (bumpy roads!) and all the while having to field one crisis after the other on the phone or in person.

To add to my woes were a couple of lunch meetings, which meant rich food and with it instant indigestion by the second day I really couldn't bear the sight of the road. I've never mastered the art of sleeping well in a moving car and since most of my two days were spent in a car, I started hating the very sight of it.

I don't think I'd be travelling in a Toyota Innova again pretty soon.

Don't get me wrong, I like the hustle and bustle of a busy day, I like the buzz but sometimes when your body isn't quite there for you, the mind doesn't want to meet the challenge either.

Eventually towards the end of the trip, I was stuck in another long journey towards the coimbatore airport. I distinctly remember looking out of the window and feeling trapped in my world. I badly wanted to get home, crawl into my bed and sleep for a few years.

Just then my phone rang, it was my wife and she had a crisis that she wanted my help with.

My lil 5 1/2 month baby had been crying non-stop over the last hour and my wife wanted to know if I could maybe talk to her and calm her down.

Then my wife placed the phone next to my daughter's ears and I could hear her cry on the other end of the line. I started talking to lil Shifrah like I do when I'm at home, and in a couple of seconds I could hear her quieten down.

The one sided conversation went on for about 5 minutes and then my relieved wife told me that everything seemed to be OK now. We chatted for sometime when I told her about my day etc.

After I hung up I felt a little drowsy and before I knew it I was fast asleep. For the first time in that trip I slept through the whole bumpy journey and had to be woken up by the driver.

Craig Ferguson

I knew him as a funny guy from the drew carey show but little did I know that he was the host of the Late Late Show (too lazy to put up links, google it yourself will ya) and a pretty darn good one at that. We don't get this show here in India, I think we should!!

Just to show you how good he is, I'm putting up a monologue from his show.

What I did at lunch today

This is a short story written while chomping on my lunch coz well the topic was very interesting. This was in response to a daily/weekly (i dunno) Flash Fiction (under 500 words) Sandbox, at the india writing community at live journal. Now what it is, is that people are given a scenario and they've gotta come up with a story under 500 words and post it there. The scenario that intrigued me into writing this story was,

Flash Fiction sandbox - writing prompt 4- Here's your scenario.Your protagonist has just discovered s/he has AIDS. S/he is meeting her lover in a cafe. S/he must, by the end of the story, have asked her lover to marry her/him. And the lover must accept.You have up to 500 words in which to pull it off.

This was my attempt, whatchu think?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I've got AIDS", he told her. She choked on her coffee and blurted "Whaat?"

He flicked his cigarette impatiently in the vicinity of the ashtray and repeated "I've got AIDS, I'm HIV fricking Positive".

He turned to the side and fixed his attention at the window.

She was dumbstruck; she felt everything freeze around her. "You, you aren't joking right?" she stuttered.

The morose look on his face gave her the reply his lips were to proud to.

What? How? Who? When? Questions flooded her mind but she knew better than to ask any of those.

She struggled to fight back the tears, suffering the news in silence.

"So the marriage is off or are you still gonna marry me?" he asked as if he was taunting her to reject him in his face.

"Yeaah" she replied dazed.

"Which is it?" He asked.

"I dunno, not really sure what I'm thinking" she replies looking down at her cold cup of coffee "One of the two, I guess".

He shook his head and turned again to the window, angrily flicking his cigarette.

After a pregnant pause, she looked up at him and asked "I need to know more"

He replied "Like what?' without turning.

"Firstly, I want you to look at me when I'm talking to you and secondly, I want you to be FUCKING honest with me and tell me all about it, right now!" She said with eyes blazing

He was shocked, he'd never heard her speak this way and though it angered him he realised that at this point of his life, this was his only chance at happiness, however remote that chance was.

He forced a smile.

"Thank God this place is so crummy that it's empty all the time, eh?" he said nervously, trying to calm her down.

The blazing look in her eyes told him that she was deadly serious.

Slowly he began telling her about his secret life, things that no one knew about him, things he thought he'd take to his grave, things he'd never expect a girl like Priya to even hear.

In the end, he couldn't stop the tears that flowed along with his words.

And when the words ran out, he sat there hunched over with his face buried in his hands.

Minutes wore on and he began composing himself and he looked up only to see her looking at him.

There were tears streaming down her face as well.

"Ok" she whispered.

What?" he quizzed in a hoarsely, not sure of what he was hearing.

"I'll marry you, but remember things have to change!" She said.

"But Priya…" he began,

"What?" she snapped back at him, wiping her tears.

"You don't have to…you shouldn't have to.." his voice faltered.

"I never did have a choice" she replied staring at him resolutely with fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

He looked stunned.

He felt like he got a glimpse of something profound and suddenly it felt like the earth stopped revolving around him.

He began to see her in a different light, he always thought she was a pushover but now he knew that she was far from it.

He knew what this decision meant for her. She would never be the little girl in her father's house again.

She had blown him away.

"Priya, my darling Priya'" he said , "You're amazing but, but, you see, I can't let you do this, for once I'm gonna do the right thing by you"

He got up, smiled affectionately at her and said "I have to set you free my darling"

He reached forward, patted her wet cheek as she looked at him pleadingly and then turned around and walked away.

(OK I cheated and edited this version since the original I put up seems to have some contextual (my big word for the day) and grammatical (Could you believe even now my first instinct is to spell this word as grammer! Blardy Awful!) errors, now I'm pretty sure this is more than 500 words but what the hey, this ain't for a contest!)

Day Trippin’

(An entry in Caferati's Quick Tales contest. This actually is one the earliest stories that I've written. The original can be found here, it had to be edited to under 500 words so that it could enter this contest. Needless to say that this was written during my footloose and fancy free bachelorhood days, these days I don't make it a habit of winking and grinning at strange women at flights, I swear!)

6:00 AM: Flight to Mumbai, delayed. Curses! Sipping coffee at the waiting area while trying to ward of sleep. Eyes bloodshot.

7:15 AM: Boarding. Bloody middle seat. Seated next to a cute Exec though. Nice perfume! Whoa angry stare!

7:16 AM: Drumming my fingers & fidgeting, hoping it’s a smooth flight. Hate flying.

7:55 AM: Finally airborne, firing up the laptop, start customising presentations.

7:59 AM: Catch a glance and grin at the cute Exec. Whoa, angry stare again!

8:13 AM: Breakfast. Croissants from the last decade. Smelly eggs. Whoops, air pocket. Egg patterns in the tie. Try a cute grin at the Exec. Permanent Stare! It's PMS (Permanent Mad Stare).

09:34 AM: Landing Mumbai. Fresh tie, same grin, same old stare.

9:40 AM: On my way, relishing the cool comfort of the Ford Fiesta. Spot the Cute Exec sweating it out in a non AC rickety taxi. Smile. Is she flipping me off? Ha! Look up skywards! Nice one dude!

10:41 AM: Late for meeting number one. Mistake in the presentation, a gender bender, whoever knew Indu Sharma was a guy? Bad Start. Bad Meeting. Big surprise!

12:00 Noon: Traffic! What a city! Reach Level 9 in Snake II.

12:31 AM: Second meeting. Client delayed. Pace the reception. Client arrives. Good meeting, though long way for sale to close. Hunger Pangs.

1:45 PM: Crazy heat. Small restaurant. Must eat quickly.

2:34 PM: Rush in for the big meeting. This is it! Now or never!

2:59 PM: Price negotiations! This customer is a shark! Haggle on bravely. Stale coffee, 6th cup of the day.

3:16 PM: Sale Closed! Contract signed! Phew, touch and go. Call boss. Whoa! Invited for a dinner at his house tonight!

3:45 PM: On the way to the airport, running late! Pick up some vada paos for the dinner at a roadside vendor. Rush back to the taxi, chewing on the vada pao.

4:50 PM: Finally seated, now next to a Mom, her 7 year old and her life sized doll, trouble! Spot the same Exec sitting in the adjacent row. Karma!

5:01 PM: Flight takes of, Mom grabs the kid, kid grabs the doll, and the doll grabs my face. Did the Exec just smile?

5:21 PM: Open novel. Look at Exec. She looks back. Grin at her, she grins back teasingly, then turns her head and closes her eyes. Felt good. Look down at the book. Shit, it’s upside down. No wonder! Witch!

6:26 PM: Bangalore Airport. Exec stuck in the taxi queue; wink at her as I pass. Get my car from the lot, drive past the foyer, the Exec still waiting. Should I stop? Drive away past her, feeling reckless, send her a flying kiss.

7:10 PM: Getting ready for my first dinner at the boss’ house. Irritating Boss, boring wife. Sigh.

8:01 PM: At the Boss’ door. Ring doorbell. Door opens, standing there is the Exec from the flight. Holy Crap! Perfect!

The Little Black Book

(An entry in Caferati's Quick Tales contest)

That night I stole my wife's diary. Now, now… before you judge me, as you are wont to do, first hear me out.

My wife and I fell in love years ago, when life was an uncomplicated place to be in, and we lived in our own little world. But now, that place seems to have become a strange world where pigs fly and monkeys speak fluent German and the two of us cannot communicate without shouting.
We made a great couple in the beginning. Then tragedy struck and we got married. Our heads, once up in the clouds, came thudding back to ground with our noses glued stuck to the grindstone of everyday life.

Never a day went by without an argument. Suddenly I was the King Slob and she was Ms. (Always) Right.

Everyday she would lament the life she had left, for this life. And I for one could never figure out what the fuss was all about.

In this little black diary, she would write everyday stories of my many foibles, only to read them back to me, when it suited her mood. A sock left in the living room, the time I had a few drinks at her sister's wedding reception (she claims I kept referring to the groom as a ‘poor sod’ to everyone, what rubbish!), everything went into that little book of hers.

For a while, I tolerated this behaviour thinking it was just a whim, till she started threatening to publish it. If it was anyone else I'd have laughed it off, but this was my wife who was also an author of three prior published works.

I shuddered when I thought of the consequences. I'd be the laughing stock everywhere, branded leader of all chauvinistic pigs!

I decided not to take it any longer. I had a reputation to protect after all. So, one night I took her diary from under her pillow. I took it straight to the kitchen with every intention of burning it, but curiosity made me flip through the pages first.

I don’t think I was quite ready for what I found inside. Instead of a list of my (alleged) misdeeds there were pages and pages of how much she loved me and descriptions of many tender moments between us that I had all but forgotten.

I was shocked, flabbergasted, dumbstruck and appalled.As realization struck, I felt that maybe I really was a bit of a slob and probably she had been right (at least a little). And, strange as she was and as pathetic as our relationship appeared, I bet I couldn't find another human who'd love me as much.

Maybe arguing was how we communicated, who knew? I could try and be a little better, couldn't I? Maybe that little book was what had kept us together so far.

I slowly slipped that book in to its rightful place, under her pillow and went back to sleep.