The morning is just about perfect, or at least as perfect as it can get midway through a scorching Indian summer. The Sun isn’t its usual blazing self. Being a bit generous on us mere mortals, I suppose! For once you don’t wake up irritable, cursing your roommate because he was snoring all through the night. For once you don’t wake up covered in sweat, smelling like something the cat dragged in. It’s a great start to the day, I must say.
“Perfect day for a good book, isn’t it guys?” asks the bookworm from behind the newspaper. “LOSER!!!”, you say to yourself and ignore his remark. “Reading was never my thing, man! Dad tried everything humanly possible for me to get into it though. But, I never did pick up this bad habit!” The bookworm looks at me like I’m some sort of a retard, I mean slow, or are they calling it ‘mentally challenged’ now?
When I say that Dad tried everything to get me to read, I’m really not kidding. In fact, I’m sure he’s still at it in his own subtle way. We’ve heard innumerable stories from his childhood, about how he was always the angrez in his class. Apparently, he had finished off the entire Enid Blyton series by class 5, was it? And here I stand, wondering whether I even spelt the name correctly in the previous sentence! A stark contrast, isn’t it?
Then there were the lunch time sessions on his all time favourite, PG Wodehouse. How anyone can laugh hysterically while reading Pigs have Wings for the hundredth time is beyond me! Make the mistake of asking what he’s laughing at and you’ve had it. Trust me on this one! ‘Fits of laughter’ is what would best describe his state on the very mention of any of the Wodehouse characters. Being caught smack in the middle of it was something I really can’t put down in words. Lets just leave it as a ‘you had to be there’ kind of situation.
“Just read it once. I’m sure you won’t be able to put it down!”, dad urged my elder sister. My sister happens to be what you’d call a voracious reader, lapping up one lot of library books after another. From the sappy Mills & Boons to the law obsessed John Grisham, she’s read them all, all except Wodehouse somehow. Come to think of it, even Mom does her fair share of reading. Of course, her reading material is more along the lines of Chicken Soup for the Soul. Yup, the philosophical crap that one learns to appreciate with maturity. Or as we would like to describe it, ‘stuff for old people!’.
I sound like a hillbilly caught up in the world of sophistication, don’t I? A social misfit! Think you’ve got me figured out? Well, I won’t say that you’re completely wrong, but hey, you’re not completely right either!
‘A man is innocent till he is proven guilty!’ Besides, what you’ve heard so far is all circumstantial evidence anyway! And no, it doesn’t make a difference whether I read that somewhere or just happened to see it in The Rainmaker, the movie!
“Lets go out to the mall today, guys!” says our third roommate. “The malls are loaded with chicks over the weekend, man! We can even catch a movie later on. I think Angelina Jolie’s latest flick is playing at one of the theatres. I’ve heard she looks really hot in it!” Yeah, this guy doesn’t beat around the bush.
“Not right now, fatso! I’ve got stuff to do! Maybe later!”
“Huh? You have stuff to do? On a Saturday? You don’t even have a girlfriend! Fixed up a date, eh?”
“No, dude! Relax! Just thought I’d give four-eyes here some company. Catch up on some reading today.” I say as I reach for the Five Point Someone lying on the shelf. Five Point Someone, by the way, is the only book I’ve read twice!
“Fine! Losers! I’m getting ready and then I’m off!” says fatso in a rather somber tone.
About half an hour later, out comes fatso wearing his favourite ‘lets just do it’ t- shirt.
“Special occasion, huh?” I enquire.
“Yes sir! Just spoke to my cousin. He’s invited me to a pub. Some party there with his office gang. Free booze, good dames and if I’m really lucky, free food too! Think about it, you still want to come along?”
I weigh out the options in my head - a nice quiet afternoon reading my favourite book or hanging around with a bunch of dimwits in a crowded pub? Doesn’t take me long to decide. “Hang on for 5 minutes, man! I’m in! I can catch up on my reading anytime!”
Sorry, dad. To give into temptation is but human! You’ll have to give me some credit for trying though!
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Thursday, May 26, 2005
God's Von Coundreee!
Ancient Chinese torture – horrific? Death by the electric chair – barbaric? Well, what would you call life for a male in his early twenties if the entire female population around him was wiped out in one sudden flash? Welcome to Kerala – God’s, albeit sadistic, own country!
What is the first thing that comes to mind when one thinks of Kerala? Beautiful beaches, humungous temples and oh yeah, not to forget, loads of coconuts! Quite obviously, we’re talking of a person who hasn’t spent more than two weeks here! Same question, different perspective – lets ask a north Indian (of course, in this context, north refers to anything above Karnataka!). So, what does he have to say? “Dreadful dames, vernacular imbeciles and oh yeah, not to forget, loads of coconuts!” This guy seems rude, doesn’t he? Prod him for a little more information and he reveals, he’s been here for a year working with a software company based in what he calls ‘the ridiculously inaptly named ‘Technopark’’.
“Life has played quite a fast one on me”, he says. “We were told that we would be in Trivandrum for a month or so on training and were to be transferred to the Mumbai office”. So, what went wrong, I wonder! “You know these small time software companies, man! They promise you the world when they recruit and before you know it, you’re surrounded by hundreds like you wondering, where is this ‘promised land’?”
“So, how has it been? After all, you are in the capital of Kerala. Things couldn’t be all that bad? Trivandrum has lots of nice beaches, good houses et al”, I prod a little more. “Oh really? Is that so? So, you have just landed here, haven’t you?” he asks. “A couple of trips to Kovalam beach loathing at the firang babes and you must be thinking, hey, I’m in Goa! Right?” Man! This guy can read my mind! I’m a little shocked. After all, you don’t get to meet a psychic everyday!
“You probably love the masala dosas, avial, idli sambar right now.” Has this guy been following me around or something? “Bugger, just wait for another couple of weeks. That’s how long it usually takes!”
Usually? I wonder and speak up “For what?”. A wry smile appears on his face, actually it is more of a smirk than a smile. First time this guy is smiling since we got into this conversation, I suddenly realize. “For you to get out of this fantasy world and come down to mother earth! You suddenly start realizing that this place isn’t that great after all. The food cooked in coconut oil starts becoming unbearable enough to make you want to throw up every time someone offers you chicken chettinad. All the Kovalam trips finally start taking their toll on you. You aren’t that fair North Indian anymore, who everyone around mistakes for a foreigner. You start blending in. Yeah bro, you start turning into your worst nightmare – a mallu.”
“Mommy! I’m scared!” I want to scream out. But, hey, I’m a fauji lad, and we just don’t do that! “So, how come you haven’t gone elsewhere?” I ask sheepishly.
“Tera baap mujhe doosri naukri dega kya?”, he seems agitated to say the least! “Dude, I have been job hunting for almost 6 months! I just want to get the hell out of here before my hair becomes curly and people stop recognizing that I’m a Punjabi!”
He’s a freaking Punjabi??? Gosh! Wouldn’t have guessed that one in a million years. But, I don’t tell him that of course! I turn my attention to the ID card hanging around his neck. “A. S. Bhinder” it reads. Icing on the cake is the photograph of an insanely fair individual who has the look that Winona Ryder had when she was rounded up by the cops for shop lifting. It hits me like a bolt of lightening, I can almost picture it – this image of a bloke in cargos and a Bart Simpson t-shirt turning into this lungi-clad, pot-bellied mallu. The famous Jeckyll and Hyde story. Siddharth Puri turned into P. Siddhartha in a matter of seconds! I shudder!
“Hmmm…So, where all should I put up my resume?”. Surprise! Surprise! I’m now a part of the Bhinder clan!
What is the first thing that comes to mind when one thinks of Kerala? Beautiful beaches, humungous temples and oh yeah, not to forget, loads of coconuts! Quite obviously, we’re talking of a person who hasn’t spent more than two weeks here! Same question, different perspective – lets ask a north Indian (of course, in this context, north refers to anything above Karnataka!). So, what does he have to say? “Dreadful dames, vernacular imbeciles and oh yeah, not to forget, loads of coconuts!” This guy seems rude, doesn’t he? Prod him for a little more information and he reveals, he’s been here for a year working with a software company based in what he calls ‘the ridiculously inaptly named ‘Technopark’’.
“Life has played quite a fast one on me”, he says. “We were told that we would be in Trivandrum for a month or so on training and were to be transferred to the Mumbai office”. So, what went wrong, I wonder! “You know these small time software companies, man! They promise you the world when they recruit and before you know it, you’re surrounded by hundreds like you wondering, where is this ‘promised land’?”
“So, how has it been? After all, you are in the capital of Kerala. Things couldn’t be all that bad? Trivandrum has lots of nice beaches, good houses et al”, I prod a little more. “Oh really? Is that so? So, you have just landed here, haven’t you?” he asks. “A couple of trips to Kovalam beach loathing at the firang babes and you must be thinking, hey, I’m in Goa! Right?” Man! This guy can read my mind! I’m a little shocked. After all, you don’t get to meet a psychic everyday!
“You probably love the masala dosas, avial, idli sambar right now.” Has this guy been following me around or something? “Bugger, just wait for another couple of weeks. That’s how long it usually takes!”
Usually? I wonder and speak up “For what?”. A wry smile appears on his face, actually it is more of a smirk than a smile. First time this guy is smiling since we got into this conversation, I suddenly realize. “For you to get out of this fantasy world and come down to mother earth! You suddenly start realizing that this place isn’t that great after all. The food cooked in coconut oil starts becoming unbearable enough to make you want to throw up every time someone offers you chicken chettinad. All the Kovalam trips finally start taking their toll on you. You aren’t that fair North Indian anymore, who everyone around mistakes for a foreigner. You start blending in. Yeah bro, you start turning into your worst nightmare – a mallu.”
“Mommy! I’m scared!” I want to scream out. But, hey, I’m a fauji lad, and we just don’t do that! “So, how come you haven’t gone elsewhere?” I ask sheepishly.
“Tera baap mujhe doosri naukri dega kya?”, he seems agitated to say the least! “Dude, I have been job hunting for almost 6 months! I just want to get the hell out of here before my hair becomes curly and people stop recognizing that I’m a Punjabi!”
He’s a freaking Punjabi??? Gosh! Wouldn’t have guessed that one in a million years. But, I don’t tell him that of course! I turn my attention to the ID card hanging around his neck. “A. S. Bhinder” it reads. Icing on the cake is the photograph of an insanely fair individual who has the look that Winona Ryder had when she was rounded up by the cops for shop lifting. It hits me like a bolt of lightening, I can almost picture it – this image of a bloke in cargos and a Bart Simpson t-shirt turning into this lungi-clad, pot-bellied mallu. The famous Jeckyll and Hyde story. Siddharth Puri turned into P. Siddhartha in a matter of seconds! I shudder!
“Hmmm…So, where all should I put up my resume?”. Surprise! Surprise! I’m now a part of the Bhinder clan!
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