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Tuesday, July 30, 2013

A night in the jungle !

As soon as the rumors started floating about an upcoming holiday, I immediately opened my otherwise boring work mailbox. There it was! The holiday-memo email.. yoohoo! I unlocked my mobile and dialed the hubby. The phone rang. “Hello?” I breathed an air of tension into that word. It met with an excited “We have an off day Monday! Let’s call them and plan” response from him. And yayyy went all the happy hormones in my system. Long weekend! The heavens had finally opened up to shower the holiday starved working class with some extra beer.


I rang up my partner-in-crime since my school days, Santa and her husband Banta (names changed to save my ass) who live in Bangalore as well. I could almost hear Santa’s couch breaking under her weight as she was jumping on it because she had just received the news about the weekend plus one. We talked to Santa and later to Banta and zeroed in on Wayanad for the weekend getaway. Why Wayanad- the drive through the jungles appealed to Banta and the hubby, whereas Santa and I were focused on finding cool jungle resorts. Logically the only jungle resort that can be available at the eleventh hour was that one which had free accommodation and additional facilities like sleeping with wild elephants and boars under the star lit sky. Trip with Santa and Banta meant death by laughter. As we were couples who were just couples without babies at that point in time, we were even ready to sleep in the car in the worst case. Sigh! Those were the times!

So my early bird husband woke up even before the ghosts did – at 3:00 am. He shook me awake and rang up Banta and woke them up as well. We started from home around 4:00 am and headed to Santa’s apartment and waited outside. Soon two policemen came in a white jeep and stopped next to us. The police gestured hubby to walk to him. Soon the hubby was seen talking and pointing towards me. The potbellied man got out of the vehicle and walked towards me. “What’s your name?” He asked. ‘Anita’ I replied. “Whom are you waiting for at this hour and what is your relationship with this man? “He demanded. Seriously these Sherlock Holmes wannabes are really ambitious. I opened the dashboard and produced a copy of our marriage certificate. Suddenly his expression changed from a high profile detective to that of a scared rabbit. I also produced copies of our identity cards, which he was not interested to check. He then said, “You cannot park the car here. This is a main road”. Oh, that is why he wanted to know my relationship status. If we were not a couple we could park the car on the main road?  Soon enough, we spotted Banta and Santa sleepwalking towards our car. The spicy narration of the policemen incident woke them to hearty laughs and active conversations thereafter.

The drive took us through the spectacular woods along the Bangalore-Mysore-Wayanad route. The picturesque locations and thick jungles with occasional sightings of wild elephants, boars, peacocks and deer were serene and peaceful to our senses which were otherwise abused by the polluted city lives we led. Even the animals, as we spotted them seemed to be extremely at ease and it was the reflection of freedom they enjoyed in the environment where it actually belonged. It was a striking contrast in comparison to the misery and helplessness we often see in the eyes of zoo animals. We slowed down and clicked many pictures, even though there were certain restrictions about doing that. Finally we reached ‘Jungle Hut’ where Banta and hubby had made a reservation (without our knowledge) and checked in. The resort lived up to its name with lush greenery all around.

Jungle Hut consisted of various tiny cottages set in the real forests of Wayanad. The staff said that most guests are greeted by herds of deer in the mornings as they opened their doors, but we really did not believe that. This came as a joke to people like me who've not seen even a dog in like, ages. The jungles which were close by are said to have a remarkable tiger population too, and the national animal had marked its presence a few times to the lucky few who happened to be driving at that time. The staff therefore warned us to not hang around outside the cottage at night. They stressed this point several times to Banta and hubby, as they pretended not to hear that and kept clicking pictures when the dos and don’ts were explained. They also reminded us that once we were settled in cottage and needed anything we should dial the reception and not answer the door even if it is being knocked at night. That line was a bit spooky for Santa and me who were already scared listening to tiger tales. We received our keys and walked to Cottage no:29, which had two bedrooms separated by a door.

It was almost half past ten when we found certain brochures on the coffee table by the window. The last page of the brochure said, that many people have had unfortunate encounters with wild animals, especially tigers in that area, and therefore one should not venture outside at night. Thoroughly city bred kids like us could not digest the fact that there were real tigers outside. That’s when it started raining. It started with a drizzle and strong breeze but soon evolved into a heavy downpour. The noise it made against the cottage roof was so deafening that we couldn't hear each other anymore. The lights in the porch went off, and those inside the room flickered. We just stared at each other wondering what could be the next plan of action in case the lights were to go off. The only weapon for last minute planning to a jungle trip power outage was mobile torches. And we knew how long that was going to last. I hurriedly took the land phone to dial the reception, but it also had succumbed to nature’s fury. The mobile phones struggled and failed in its attempts to find a network so we could call the reception. Altogether, we were trapped in a cottage in the middle of a jungle, weaponless. Our lives hung around the strength of the door knob that locked us in the cottage. Even though we were snacking and talking, the fact that it had started to rain and that we lost any contact with the hotel authorities sank in on us. Our conversations started losing color, and in some time, we were just snacking and plainly looking at each other.

Soon, headlights from a distant vehicle pierced into our room. We tried to peep through the window, but the downpour allowed us only to see the two headlights that blinded our eyes. We came back to our motionless existence.

In a few minutes, there was a knock on our door. To open the door was foolish. It was almost midnight. There were groups of drunk bachelors in other cottages. The knock sent horrific chills down our spines.  

After a few moments of discussion we asked, ‘Who is it?”.

No answer. We kept our ears against the door, as we weren't sure if we were audible to whoever was knocking. After five minutes of knocking and intense trials to make ourselves heard, the knock stopped. And soon enough the headlights were switched off too. We gathered our heartbeats and tried to sleep.

The next morning, we headed to the reception and gave a peppery account of the knock-knock episode from the previous day. The staff was as clueless as we were, because they were not the same guys we saw last night. They obviously worked in shifts. We continued to breakfast and proceeded to Soochippara Waterfalls, adhering to our instant itinerary. 

This was a place which was untouched by commercialization. It was at least a fifteen minute walk through a narrow stone paved path with lush greenery alongside, to reach the falls. As we walked through, a very familiar face turned to look directly at me. “Lanta!” I exclaimed. Santa knew her too, as we were all batch mates of the same school. It is such a stark coincidence to meet someone you know, that too a batch mate, at a random tourist spot! The encounter progressed with loud shrieks and excitement. Lanta was on a weekend getaway too. As we walked we talked about everyone in our batch who were married, engaged, divorced or making babies. The time we spent at the falls with our new company was priceless. We walked back with lots of memories and were exhausted from all the laughter and exhilaration. By the time we reached the car it was time to bid goodbye to Lanta and the wonderful time we had with her.

“So, where did you stay? I asked in curiosity.

 “Oh. This resort…”.she said carelessly. “We were supposed to check out yesterday. We tried to move our car out of the parking area, but because of the rain one of the tires got stuck in the mud. We tried every possible way to get it out. There was another car parked adjacent to ours. If that one could be moved a little bit, there were chances we could get ours out”

“Then?” Santa and I asked in unison.

“Then what! In an attempt to not disturb the tourists we tried to get the tires out of the mud hole in the incessant rain. Finally drenched and tired we went to reception and they accompanied us to the cottage of the tourists whose car it was”

 “Those cowards did not respond despite us knocking for at least ten odd minutes. The staff tried to contact them on their mobile phones but after the rain started, the network was screwed as well. So we went back to the reception and extended our stay. As we were supposed to be back home yesterday and couldn't be contacted on mobile, our parents were terrified and had a sleepless night” Lanta turned to her husband ..’Honey, which cottage was it?’ 

“Cottage Number 29. Jungle Hut’.


Lanta drove her way back to Kerala.

Back in the confines of our car, we felt amused and terrible at the same time. We were too surprised to express our confused emotions.

Our extended weekend was over and we drove into our respective busy lives. That same night I took my mobile, and messaged Lanta.

“We were the ones in Cottage 29, Jungle Hut. You're welcome. No mention”.


Sunday, July 14, 2013

Comedy of Errors


I can't remember myself laughing out loud watching any movies from the recent past. After all laughing out loud has reduced to ‘lol’ and lasts even lesser than that. And I cringe by the supposed comedy which exists in movies these days.Cast a fat person, a dark person, a frail person, another with a peculiar accent and you have a whole movie under the humor genre.

The Asylum
In many futile attempts, portrayals of an asylum or people who have mental illness are used as objects of humor. To be honest, miserable people who live like animals are not to be laughed at. I've never found that funny, ever. 

The overweight friend of the protagonist.
Many a times, the hero’s friend is a guy who is overweight and his weight actually forms the base of many jokes in this movie. Whatever he says, be it a joke or not, gets people laughing.

An exotic animal.
Parrot, orangutan, dog, cat, chimpanzee, you get the idea. Illegal possession of an animal or making one the protagonist forms the basis of humor (or so they think). It gives an insight into the absence of creativity of the script writer. 

Physique and appearance.
A dark skinned person, a person with a cleft lip, one with bunny teeth, and another with some physical disability or dwarfism aspiring to be in show business or the like becomes the premise for two plus hours. 

I wonder why the good old situational and observational comedy does not feature in scripts of these times. I can say that people are more light headed today as compared to our serious and confused ancestors . But I must say that good comedy existed in the 80's and 90’s after which it has somehow deteriorated. Sex comedies and sarcasm are on the rise, punch lines with double meanings are in and a humor movie hardly gives us a laugh or two, not more. For an average movie loving Keralite, the classic Mohanlal-Srinivasan comedy from the 90’s, will top their list of favorite humor. Even though there were traces of black comedy in those, the evergreen classics guarantee many laughs even if we watch it for the umpteenth time. The dialogues are popular among the kids who weren't even born during at that era. 

It is easy to make you cry, but it is difficult to make you laugh. And in the process when movies try too hard to get a laugh out of the audience it shows. They end up being unintentionally funny.

So to sum it up, I am going to just cuddle on my couch and watch one of my most favorite movies, ‘Godfather’ (Malayalam), over a cup of tea and biscuits. And laugh like I am watching it for the first time. That is my idea of light, genuine comedy and the most inexpensive form of stress relief.

Thursday, June 27, 2013

When tomboys are born..

I am pushed to write this post, after having read the one at Shobhaa De’s and another from fellow blogger Sowmya. Here is one more to add to the one hundred and one articles you've already read about YJHD – Yeh Jawani Hai Deewani. It doesn’t matter if you are a lover or a hater of it, but you cant just say that it wasn't entertaining.

When Deepika started the journey through this movie as a nerd, she’d been wearing short skirts and frocks, especially in a train where she had to climb an upper berth. The bespectacled one, who cannot think outside her textbook, ventures out on a trip with total strangers for trekking at Manali. This was a scene where the inappropriate dressing of her character caught the attention and criticism of the most amateur of movie goers. From then on, I completely ignored her and focused on Aditi, the brilliant and yet understated character portrayed by Kalki Koechlin. I cannot think of anyone else who could get into the skin of that character the way she did, and her side of the story kept the viewer guessing,  because the future of the protagonists Ranbir and Deepika was indeed the inevitable cliche. I appreciate the writer of this movie who knowingly or not scripted that scene in which Avi, played by Aditya Roy Kapoor cuddles with a random girl and Aditi gets fiercely possessive. The part where she hides her feelings and chooses not to talk about her love brought depth and reality to her character. This character is a slice of real life. Because that is how it is for a majority of girls.

Aditi is also realistic. Her love, Avi, doesn't even consider the fact that she is a girl. Neither did he look into her eyes even once. She was the quintessential girl pal, the one who is wooden at heart, at least for him. So there was no point in craving and waiting around, and she settles in life with the potbellied rich guy, for the reason that he loved her. Not for his BMW or the Antilla type home he probably lived in. And for this choice she made, we should applaud her, because tomboys are realistic. They live in the present and not in lacy dreams.

Why I am vouching for this character is because once upon a time I was Aditi too. I had those pretty girls for friends, and the boys asked me for their phone numbers. I was a wooden bridge that connected them to a book of phone numbers of pretty girls. However I was realistic too. We girls are born attention seekers, so am I, and I got the attention, albeit in a different light. That was when the tomboy in me was born. I am guessing that’s how tomboys are born everywhere.

There are no tomboys by choice. Tomboys are born when some level headed girls, who don’t think that wearing nail polish and getting manicures is the sole objective of life. They are the ones who dare to think beyond the men’s hostel. They are the ones who are logical. That doesn't make us less feminine. That doesn't make us feminists either.

At some level Kalki was the Anjali from Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. Except that, Anjali ran away when her feelings were not reciprocated, whereas Aditi was rock strong and dared to choose her own life without any regrets. 

Let there be more Aditis.


P.S: After I wrote this post, I tweeted the link to Kalki Koechlin, impulsively. Just like that. And see what I got ! And of course, I've been screaming from my rooftop about this ;-)


Photo Courtesy:Google.

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

The curious case of the missing credit card.

It was a lazy weekend. Kiddo and I woke up late and by the time we finished our routines it was closer to noon than to morning.  The hubby was not home. He is an early riser. Yes even on weekends :-O. Even that early bird which catches the worm stretches a bit on weekends. Sigh so much for me whose idea of weekend or any holiday for that matter is just sleep.

I placed myself comfy on the couch and the toddler got busy dismantling the toys he was recently gifted with. That’s when my phone rang . It was him.

“Hello?” I said.

“Where did YOU misplace my credit card !!!??”

I've been asked this question each and every single day of my existence with him that I get worried if he doesn't ;-) Honestly, this question and all the exclamations which translated itself into high frequency emergency tones did not even bother me. Because ever since I've known him, when something went missing, it was always ‘Where did YOU keep it…” .It is never “Do you remember seeing my credit card somewhere” or “Can you help me search this” or “Where did my credit card go I wonder” or anything in that category. It is always ’Where did YOU MISPLACE my credit card’ with an emphasis on YOU and MISPLACE.  Because he thinks my favorite hobby is to misplace things. Especially credit cards and other valuables.  

I continued, “I don’t know. Where are you? ”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Where are you? ”

“At the supermarket! My Credit card ! I used it yesterday at the …oh yes! Go check in the car dashboard… NOW!! And call me back.”

*SLAM*

I got up slowly…really slowly, picked up the toddler and pressed the lift buttons and went to the basement.  I walked towards the usual parking slot and did not find the car there. And then I realized. 


The phone rang again.

“Did you go to the basement? Did you search in the car dashboard or not?”

“Dint you go to the supermarket in that car?”  I almost yelled. 

Silence.

“Hello?’ 

“Okay I will check from here” he softly said, and hung up. You will not believe the sudden transformation in the tone of speech :D

P.S: Of course I sounded intelligent when he came home and said that I knew that the car was not here. I did not mention the part where I carried the toddler to the basement to search for it.

For those who are curious to know whether he found it finally, yes. It was safely sitting in one of the 6757325 pockets of the cargo trouser he was wearing at that time.


Sunday, June 9, 2013

Our new, extended family !

So basically there are four people in our house. Hubby, toddler, myself and the TV.

Because, when the new TV arrived over a month ago, I was told that it had the ability to listen and obey (unlike the others in the house) and hence it will be considered as a person, and treated like a new born (like other gadgets and cables and wires and the dust sitting on them).


This new age television was obviously bought on an EMI scheme, because hello, we do not believe in selling kidneys to buy television sets. So coming to the TV, it is sleek and huge. It has got a remote control, but as they say, remote controls are hard to find and getting up every time to get a hold on it may even result in drastic consequences like movement of bones and loss of calories. So the television makers have eased our lives and increased our risks of obesity and heart disease by enabling the voice recognition software. So we just sit on the couch and say, ‘Hi TV, Power on’, or ‘Hi TV, power off’. 

Mind-blowing :D 

And when you raise your hand by just sitting on the couch, the television instantly brings the volume controls and we can adjust it there itself. This is not an excellent feature for people like me, because if I raise my hand to scratch my head, all the volume controls appear and I have two pairs of eyes rolling at me. I mean- to use hi-fi televisions like these, one should be well groomed . The TV does not entertain people with dandruff watching it.

Then of course it allows you to watch 3D. Like on weekends you have bloody  eyeballs from Final Destination3 rolling into your lap or the T-Rex eating your brain.

Now the good news is, that was also the first sentence my toddler said. Hi, TV power on. Praise the Lord, he talked to the TV first! I was moved to tears . Thankfully, the TV does not obey him because of course TV is TV and it doesn't understand baby language. (Neither do we).

But believe me the clarity is like a dream. Then of course it helps indirect means of communication. Like when there are  lots of chores pending for the weekend, and everybody else act like they are completely oblivious to it and place themselves on the couch, saying 'Hi Tv, power on', and from the kitchen I go 'Hi TV, get lost'. 
Hey, I do not disrespect anyone; I am talking to the TV! But a hint is taken ;-).Am I smart or what.

And if we talk aloud, the TV thinks that we are talking to it and brings a small bubble on the bottom of the screen which reads ‘Is it noisy around you?’ and ‘Try saying that again’ and then I want to yell…hey we have life going on here, so please! And to that usually it takes a Manmohan Singh stand. Somewhere inside a maze of wires and capacitors, it might be saying to itself ‘Theek Hai’.

Oh I almost forgot, I will soon be inviting you guys for the official christening ceremony. ;-) Of course it will carry a surname, and you know what that will be :D



Sunday, May 26, 2013

Angels in Disguise.


Actually I wrote this article for Blogadda's contest on 'Soldier for Women' and missed the due date. The other participants actually got lucky :-P Anyway here goes...


It was a pleasant Sunday evening. My mother, the single alto singer in a choir that comprised of at least fifteen soprano voices, never missed the choir practice at 4:00p.m. My father always dropped her at the church premises before time, parked the car, and went walking. He would walk around one hour, come back and wait for her, reading his favorite Reader’s Digest. The choir practice usually went on for an hour and a half. I never made calls to her mobile at this time, mainly because the choir master hated mobile phones, and also because my mother was not an expert in setting it to silent mode.

One Saturday, I called my mother casually and she mentioned about the charitable concert their choir was about to conduct and how the choir master made the attendance of all singers mandatory. She went on to explain how annoying the he had become over the week, due to the upcoming concert and related pressure. She spoke like a child, scared of her new teacher. Then she said, ‘But Papa has to go to see his mother tomorrow. It is important. He tells me to go in an auto’ she paused and took a deep breath. 
Then she continued with an unexpected energy, out of the blue ‘May be I will drive to church tomorrow!’

‘But Mummy you haven’t driven in a long time’, I elaborated my concern.

‘So what, it is not a peak hour, and there is not much traffic’ she retorted. 

Papa was hesitant in the beginning, but later decided to go with her decision. Miles away, I cut the call and sat disturbed in my hostel room. To be honest, Mummy drove like crazy. She bakes the yummiest cakes, stitches her own dresses, makes stunning bridal bouquets and flower arrangements, but when it comes to driving she is definitely not the best.  ‘People learn through experience. Unless you drive on your own, alone, it is not possible to face the road’ said my hostel-mate just for the sake of saying.

On Sunday evening, around 4:00 p.m. my mobile rang. It was Mummy, and she squealed in delight to say that she reached safely, and that the car was parked parallel to another one, in the same compound. She also told me not to call her for another two hours, as the choir master was already angry at a few people who hadn't turned up. After this call, I got lost in my routine hostel activities.

Around 9:00 pm I called Papa to know whether he reached home, when my call reached a rather noisy place. ‘Hello? Where are you? Why aren’t you home already?’ I asked in a single breath.

Papa said, ‘We are at a hospital here. Mummy met with a small accident…’ he paused.

‘WHAT!’ I screamed.

Papa continued, ‘Mummy is fine. As she was driving back after choir practice, her car hit a two wheeler. A young guy who was riding it fell down. He is also fine now, we are going home. Mummy is paranoid, we will call you tomorrow’.

The next day as soon as I woke up I grabbed my mobile and dialed Mummy. Mummy answered my call in a voice which clearly sounded like she cried herself to sleep the previous day.  ‘Mummy!’ I said.

She narrated the incident like this.

“Yesterday, I was driving home after choir and had reached halfway when there was a left turn. I switched on my indicator, honked a little bit, and turned just like the vehicle in front of me, when I heard a loud thud on the side of our car. I stopped immediately, and so did all other cars behind me. Some people came running at that point and many others on the other side of the road also came running. Next I know, some onlookers were banging on my window, using abusive words, telling me to come outside. I was numb, shivering and completely oblivious of what happened. I saw people trying to open my side of the door angrily. My hands sweated and heart beat faster. I felt like I was losing my eyesight as everything was blurred. Then I slowly slid into the passenger seat in front and got out through that side, as some angry people were standing near the driver’s side of the car. I saw a young man on the pavement, unconscious, and a scooter lying next to him. It was then that it occurred to me, that I was responsible for the life of this man. He looked hardly 27. At least 50 people had gathered around our car, a traffic block was thus created and there was noise and havoc. I still dint know what to do, as fifty pairs of eyes were on me, and none on the victim who lay on the pavement. I froze.

Suddenly an auto rickshaw drove into the scene and its driver walked out straight to the victim. He checked the young guy and screamed ‘He is alive..!’ and lifted him with difficulty. None of the onlookers helped, neither did I! The driver put the young guy at the back seat of our car, strode to the driver seat and started the car! I stood watching, when he yelled ‘Madam what are you looking at? GET INSIDE!’ I quickly got into the front seat and that guy sped through the streets honking like crazy, signaling emergency. I called Papa and mumbled something. He drove to the nearest hospital. The driver stopped at the porch, called the staff of the hospital and put the guy on the stretcher and rolled it into Casualty section. The driver accompanied me as we walked towards the Casualty section, and a doctor emerged. They exchanged certain details, while I answered Papa’s call as he was on the way back, and I told him the hospital name. As I cut Papa’s call and turned, the driver was gone. I ran to the porch where our car was parked, and the security said that the driver had parked the car in the hospital parking area, and handed over the keys to me. I ran to the hospital entrance and searched every possible place, but he was gone. The doctor emerged from the casualty after an hour, during which Papa also managed to reach as we waited with bated breaths.
“Good that you brought him here at the right time… that guy is perfectly fine and he can go home tomorrow” said the doctor. Soon, an old lady and a pregnant woman reached the corridor where we were, and a nurse told us that it was the mother and wife of the accident victim. They did not recognize us. If not for the help and presence of mind of that auto driver, this mother would have lost her son, and a young woman, her husband. It would have changed their lives and mine, forever, for worse.

This auto driver, who stood up for my mother who was in a helpless situation, is a real soldier. The world needs more people like him. For me, he is a faceless and nameless person, who dint even stop to be recognized for his good deed.  

When the whole world prefers to point fingers and accuse, there are this few who actually make us believe that humanity still exists, at least in traces. 

Spread the word!