While he climbed the stairs of the three storied house where he had rented a one room and kitchen on his return; all others were leaving to start the weekend.
Sameer settled down with a cup of coffee and the book. He stared at the same page for fifteen minutes before giving up. Business management was the worst subject ever. Actually he was working with his father and grandfather since he was eighteen in their garment export business. What they taught in MBA was the glorified and complicated version of the wisdom he learned first hand. After all there were very few ways to make profits legally.
Also after being brought up close to the family, his sensibilities were different. He saw society and alcohol in a different light. He saw people dying and homes breaking by alcoholism; in the society where he was brought up drinking was not a recreation.
He went back to work the next day. Work was more interesting when the manager is missing. Actually Sameer was the most experienced guy in the bar and he assumed the managers role. He liked this responsibility. He worked very hard to complete the pending finances and when he stepped out of the manager’s cabin back to the bar he saw a familiar face.
It took him some time to recognize Kusum. She has left her hair open, wore no specs and looked pretty in a sky blue kurta. When their eyes met, she smiled and waved by just moving her fingers. Sameer walked to her as if he was spell bound. As he approached her, Kusum made the eye contact and said an enthusiastic greeting. She tilted her head and ran her fingers through her hair while asking him how he was.
Sameer found himself grinning like a school boy. It was not about him, any guy who was unexpectedly flirted by a girl would have had that reaction.
'I need my usual, Jack Daniels on the rocks' she said confidently.
Sameer felt the need to bring the drink himself. But by the time he was back kusum was a different person. She looked frustrated and disappointed, even angry.
She explained " I need to meet these boys my daddy shortlist as suitable suitors. It's very painful. They come in all shapes and sizes. I hate meeting them and evaluating them for a shade of sanity. It’s the biggest torutre I person can volenterily out themselves through. This one was such a brag, if he was smarted is college, irreplaceble at work, the best guy around…hunh if he was to be belived he was the superman who decided to walk on ground on his day off.”
“Thank God for making, all men as hippocrates. So if I like a guy I order coke and if I do not like them I order whisky. No Indian men can bear his to be wife to be a habitual drinker. They quickly make an excuse to leave and never return” She said with despise
She hestaitated and said “Why am I telling you all this. You are one of them” like she was inditing him of a crime.
“I am a little different” he said simply. And before she could role her eyes he added” I don’t appreciate either men or women drinking”.
She giggled “And you work here. What an irony.” She leaned forward “So you want to preach me about stop drinking” she teased.
“No. You shouldn’t otherwise there will be no way for us to meet” He replied and blushed.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Part 1: High on Life (Prologue)
He was happy to finish his shift at 6:00 PM. It was a Friday. Working on the high end bar located in the heart of the biggest IT companies in Bangalore was a blessing and a curse. The tips are good but young men with unlimited money thinking that alcohol will answer all their questions; even the question that life is yet to pose…were too much nuisance.
Though Sameer was not old himself, he clearly looked down on drinking and those who enjoyed it too much. It was an addiction after all, with no justification. At times he wondered if he should stop working here for some extra money and concentrate on his studies.
May be this was better, he felt righteous, mature and grownup as compared to all others who drank just to enjoy the day that repeated itself after every 7 days, Friday… hunh!! how frivolous? The depth and force of life was nothing for them…
He looked outside the glass door to see if it was raining. Rains are always a possibility in Bangalore. He noticed the cititaxi park outside. It was odd. It was too early. He scanned the red dazzling interiors covering the bar and lounge area. There was no one on the verge of passing out or even very drunk to call a cab.
It was then, he notices kusum at the bar. She sat at the tall bar chair staring at the three tequila shots in front of her. She was chubby with her hair tied back in a pony tail. He noticed the red and yellow dupatta wrapped around her neck. In fact she wore a red and yellow salwar suit. The thick glasses gave her, actually accentuated the ‘behenji’ look.
She was not the hip like the new age movie heroines they show boozing in the new chick flicks. Sameer walked towards her. He noticed that her feet hardly reached the foot rest of the chair, on the floor near her feet was her laptop bag and she continued to stare at the shot.
“First time?” he asked politely with a smile. She giggled half embarrassed and replied ‘Takes a lot to drink something which will make you puke”.
He smiled. “So you called the Taxi” he said sharing his revelation. She blushed.
Though Sameer was not old himself, he clearly looked down on drinking and those who enjoyed it too much. It was an addiction after all, with no justification. At times he wondered if he should stop working here for some extra money and concentrate on his studies.
May be this was better, he felt righteous, mature and grownup as compared to all others who drank just to enjoy the day that repeated itself after every 7 days, Friday… hunh!! how frivolous? The depth and force of life was nothing for them…
He looked outside the glass door to see if it was raining. Rains are always a possibility in Bangalore. He noticed the cititaxi park outside. It was odd. It was too early. He scanned the red dazzling interiors covering the bar and lounge area. There was no one on the verge of passing out or even very drunk to call a cab.
It was then, he notices kusum at the bar. She sat at the tall bar chair staring at the three tequila shots in front of her. She was chubby with her hair tied back in a pony tail. He noticed the red and yellow dupatta wrapped around her neck. In fact she wore a red and yellow salwar suit. The thick glasses gave her, actually accentuated the ‘behenji’ look.
She was not the hip like the new age movie heroines they show boozing in the new chick flicks. Sameer walked towards her. He noticed that her feet hardly reached the foot rest of the chair, on the floor near her feet was her laptop bag and she continued to stare at the shot.
“First time?” he asked politely with a smile. She giggled half embarrassed and replied ‘Takes a lot to drink something which will make you puke”.
He smiled. “So you called the Taxi” he said sharing his revelation. She blushed.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Dreams Don’t Pay!!
He entered the dark room quietly. He hated the ritual to checking the computer logs to watch over his fourteen year old son’s internet surfing. The fact that his son knew and approved made it a little easier though.
He noticed Sahil visited the usual blogs and today searched for hindi poetry over youtube. He felt a little proud that his son had classy taste and a little scared that he was leaning towards arts. He decided to hear one of them.
He found the face and voice familiar. It was Pankaj Sharma, his classmates from college. Oh yes! It was Pankaj. He could not forget the guy who quit engineering to be a poet. It was path breaking and almost impractical decision. It was crazy to work so hard to make it an engineering college and leave it for a career as non-promising and unstable as creative writing.
Pankaj’s unprecedented act caused ripples in the college campus. His act was widely condemned by the lecturers and idolized by fellow students. It was very romantic to renounce the ways of the world and follow ones heart. They now kindled the dream of finding a skill and the demonstrating the ultimate courage to make it their profession.
He quickly returned to the video he was watching and unknowingly started noticing the attire and accessories of the poet. He wanted to gauge if Pankaj made enough money. He could not, as he kept getting distracted the zest and passion of the poet's voice and the glow of contentment on his face.
He returned to the past again, as he was reminded of his own passion. He loved singing. Though he did not trust the exaggerated and biased opinion of his friends, he believed he was descent at it. In fact after Pankaj’s episode, he even approached his father and put forth his plan to pursue his dreams.
His father explained him how reality and dreams were different and they don’t coexist. And the most important dissimilarity was that “Dreams Don’t Pay”.
Even without connection to the literary world, he made a half hearted attempt to recall if pankaj was famous and then in the same thought decided that he was not.
He shut down the computer and left Sahil’s study. He was very disturbed though he could not find if the reason was the enviable content of the man who was living his dreams or the inconclusive proof of his father’s worldly wise wisdom.
He noticed Sahil visited the usual blogs and today searched for hindi poetry over youtube. He felt a little proud that his son had classy taste and a little scared that he was leaning towards arts. He decided to hear one of them.
He found the face and voice familiar. It was Pankaj Sharma, his classmates from college. Oh yes! It was Pankaj. He could not forget the guy who quit engineering to be a poet. It was path breaking and almost impractical decision. It was crazy to work so hard to make it an engineering college and leave it for a career as non-promising and unstable as creative writing.
Pankaj’s unprecedented act caused ripples in the college campus. His act was widely condemned by the lecturers and idolized by fellow students. It was very romantic to renounce the ways of the world and follow ones heart. They now kindled the dream of finding a skill and the demonstrating the ultimate courage to make it their profession.
He quickly returned to the video he was watching and unknowingly started noticing the attire and accessories of the poet. He wanted to gauge if Pankaj made enough money. He could not, as he kept getting distracted the zest and passion of the poet's voice and the glow of contentment on his face.
He returned to the past again, as he was reminded of his own passion. He loved singing. Though he did not trust the exaggerated and biased opinion of his friends, he believed he was descent at it. In fact after Pankaj’s episode, he even approached his father and put forth his plan to pursue his dreams.
His father explained him how reality and dreams were different and they don’t coexist. And the most important dissimilarity was that “Dreams Don’t Pay”.
Even without connection to the literary world, he made a half hearted attempt to recall if pankaj was famous and then in the same thought decided that he was not.
He shut down the computer and left Sahil’s study. He was very disturbed though he could not find if the reason was the enviable content of the man who was living his dreams or the inconclusive proof of his father’s worldly wise wisdom.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Seasonal ...
She closed her eyes and squeezed her eyes lids firmly, in a desperate attempt to clear her head and concentrate on the task in hand.
She once again looked at the hundreds of potted plants and trees surrounding her. She wanted something green for her home to bring solace to her eyes and positive energy to her surroundings. ‘If only a bunch of greens could bring peace..’ her logical thoughts tried to creep in but was stopped by the friendly voice of the store assistant “Hey!! need help? What are you looking for?”
“Arrrr..Plants” she said in an unsure tone. “How about some chrysanthemum” the store assistant said pointing to the closest bunch of pots with bright colored flowers.
“Oh no!! I do not want any thing seasonal. I am looking for something permanent.” she replied
‘Seasonal! Seasonal!!’ thought the big chrysanthemum flower. ‘You reject me calling me seasonal. Yes, I live for only two months but what is so permanent about your life’
‘Every few years the people who are important in your life change. Every few month what interests you change. Every few days your perception of people and their perception for you change. Every few hours your own mood change… and I am not permanent?’
‘You are defined by people who surround you. When people love you, respect you and need you; you bloom and flourish. You beam in pride, glow in confidence and chirp in happiness. When others or same people question you, ignore you and hurt you; you retreat, you close, you wilt.’
‘There is not an emotion that is yours and that does not manifest because of people around you. You feel love, joy, happiness, trust, confidence, loneliness, sadness, hurt, vengeance, depression, bitterness, hope and disgust as a reaction. These emotions touch you and leave. And then come back to touch you again. And they don’t even wait for a season.’
‘You, my friend, wilt and bloom more then me. You are only reactive like my brother touch me not. You are more fragile then the glass container that holds my likes in the living rooms.’
‘You, nice Lady, are much more seasonal then me’
She once again looked at the hundreds of potted plants and trees surrounding her. She wanted something green for her home to bring solace to her eyes and positive energy to her surroundings. ‘If only a bunch of greens could bring peace..’ her logical thoughts tried to creep in but was stopped by the friendly voice of the store assistant “Hey!! need help? What are you looking for?”
“Arrrr..Plants” she said in an unsure tone. “How about some chrysanthemum” the store assistant said pointing to the closest bunch of pots with bright colored flowers.
“Oh no!! I do not want any thing seasonal. I am looking for something permanent.” she replied
‘Seasonal! Seasonal!!’ thought the big chrysanthemum flower. ‘You reject me calling me seasonal. Yes, I live for only two months but what is so permanent about your life’
‘Every few years the people who are important in your life change. Every few month what interests you change. Every few days your perception of people and their perception for you change. Every few hours your own mood change… and I am not permanent?’
‘You are defined by people who surround you. When people love you, respect you and need you; you bloom and flourish. You beam in pride, glow in confidence and chirp in happiness. When others or same people question you, ignore you and hurt you; you retreat, you close, you wilt.’
‘There is not an emotion that is yours and that does not manifest because of people around you. You feel love, joy, happiness, trust, confidence, loneliness, sadness, hurt, vengeance, depression, bitterness, hope and disgust as a reaction. These emotions touch you and leave. And then come back to touch you again. And they don’t even wait for a season.’
‘You, my friend, wilt and bloom more then me. You are only reactive like my brother touch me not. You are more fragile then the glass container that holds my likes in the living rooms.’
‘You, nice Lady, are much more seasonal then me’
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Other side of the Story
She came home upset and grumpy again. Work was okay but not office life. She was not able to make friends there. Actually she was not allowed to make friends. Already a group of team mates existed who pretended to be the thickest of pals forming an almost impenetrable gang. She tried to participate in their conversation time each time she heard them laughing and talking in the hallway, but her intrusion was never taken kindly. She was as smart and with same brand sense of humor if not better. She never deserved to be in this socially challenging situation.
The shared apartment she returned to was a mess too. She was greeted with the gathering of shoes at the entrance. The problem with staying with four strangers is that no one wanted to clean. She left her shoes in the middle of the carpet. If no one cares to change this pig sty then why should she.
Now within hours the daily cooking drama of sorts will start. Each room-mate on her designated cooking turn pretends to be either sick or occupied with urgent work issues. Every one liked to comes up with excuses. She thought how she on the other hand was very regular with cooking on her turns, missing her turns if she was eating out.
The stab of pain hit her heart at this thought; she really picked up an ugly fight with people she used to go out with her. She ate the least and still the bill was equally divided between all, small amount of money like this amounted a lot over the time. Just because she put her thoughts in words she was cut off from the group. Suddenly the invitation of the outings started trickling.
She ignored the mess around her and the cornflakes on the carpet that she could feel under her feet and logged on to the networking site to tell a better story.
The shared apartment she returned to was a mess too. She was greeted with the gathering of shoes at the entrance. The problem with staying with four strangers is that no one wanted to clean. She left her shoes in the middle of the carpet. If no one cares to change this pig sty then why should she.
Now within hours the daily cooking drama of sorts will start. Each room-mate on her designated cooking turn pretends to be either sick or occupied with urgent work issues. Every one liked to comes up with excuses. She thought how she on the other hand was very regular with cooking on her turns, missing her turns if she was eating out.
The stab of pain hit her heart at this thought; she really picked up an ugly fight with people she used to go out with her. She ate the least and still the bill was equally divided between all, small amount of money like this amounted a lot over the time. Just because she put her thoughts in words she was cut off from the group. Suddenly the invitation of the outings started trickling.
She ignored the mess around her and the cornflakes on the carpet that she could feel under her feet and logged on to the networking site to tell a better story.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
The Custodian
“I don't attend weddings.” I repeated myself.
“Wedding is a decision taken by two people to walk down the aisle of life together. It’s a decision on the way they want to live their life. This does not call for the big, extravagant Indian wedding. Imagine if the newly wed are handed the amount to be spent in the wedding they would have such an affluent start in their new, married life. And why all relatives need to be there? This is not a show of strength, why flock the couple? Makes no sense” Phew!! I knew it was gibberish. But I could hardly think straight, especially as my kid sister sat across the room crying. By the way, she was the one for whose wedding my mom wanted me to come down to Mumbai.
I still had no idea if this was a mere case of her having cold feet before the big day or she was genuinely confused and unsure of her decision to marry. There were two disturbing facts here, one that my cousin sister was unhappy and second that I had to act like the big responsible brother. Damn.
I asked again “Ok tell me once again why you do not want to get married and you can say anything but NO CRYING!!” See I may be the elder one but still get very intimidated by the tears of the women I love. “I love Justin” she whispered.
I closed my eyes and winced. So I was in another situation with no easy answers. Clearly my sister loved someone other then the match arranged for her. Obviously she was too scared and did let my uncle and aunt finalize the wedding with the groom of their choice. I now had to choose between being the responsible brother or the righteous nephew.
My one way out could be to tell my aunt about the little situation. She would emotionally blackmail my sister on things from family status to her future to social standing till the kid gives in.
I looked at the puffy, red eyed angel across the room and thought “good for her…I prefer happy endings.”
“Wedding is a decision taken by two people to walk down the aisle of life together. It’s a decision on the way they want to live their life. This does not call for the big, extravagant Indian wedding. Imagine if the newly wed are handed the amount to be spent in the wedding they would have such an affluent start in their new, married life. And why all relatives need to be there? This is not a show of strength, why flock the couple? Makes no sense” Phew!! I knew it was gibberish. But I could hardly think straight, especially as my kid sister sat across the room crying. By the way, she was the one for whose wedding my mom wanted me to come down to Mumbai.
I still had no idea if this was a mere case of her having cold feet before the big day or she was genuinely confused and unsure of her decision to marry. There were two disturbing facts here, one that my cousin sister was unhappy and second that I had to act like the big responsible brother. Damn.
I asked again “Ok tell me once again why you do not want to get married and you can say anything but NO CRYING!!” See I may be the elder one but still get very intimidated by the tears of the women I love. “I love Justin” she whispered.
I closed my eyes and winced. So I was in another situation with no easy answers. Clearly my sister loved someone other then the match arranged for her. Obviously she was too scared and did let my uncle and aunt finalize the wedding with the groom of their choice. I now had to choose between being the responsible brother or the righteous nephew.
My one way out could be to tell my aunt about the little situation. She would emotionally blackmail my sister on things from family status to her future to social standing till the kid gives in.
I looked at the puffy, red eyed angel across the room and thought “good for her…I prefer happy endings.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)