I always contemplated which of the phrases ‘half-full’ or ‘half-empty tumbler’ best described my social life. During one spell, there was a deluge of events in rather quick succession that tempted me to label it as ‘just-a-few-leftover-drops-clinging-to-the-base’. After scoring out other conceivable possibilities, and a rather severe stretch of imagination I sniffed my deodorized armpits just to make sure even that was not behind the mass exodus of fellow beings from my social life. The only benefit though of being so meticulous was I could say with some degree of certainty which deodorant smelled tad better in comparison to another. I raked my brains for some answers, and it was rather intriguing to find out what amount of self realization can come to anyone subjected to forced solitude.
The first in the chain was when I heard N was undertaking an overnight bus journey, and coming to town on the pretext of attending a wedding. In reality N was willing to endurance-test an otherwise pampered bottom on the bumpy and sleepless journey because the original intent was different from the publicized one, and that was to be in town for my birthday… All the fun and excitement was washed away when I realized that my birthday was now celebrated a day in advance so I could be left ‘undisturbed for exclusive access’ on the fateful day. I don’t know if the bizarreness of the idea or the inflicted celebrations that followed suit stumped me more, while I crazed to put my finger on what might be the cause of such erratic behavior. All along I suspected N was schizophrenic the event did not confirm my doubts though, but my suspicion grew stronger for sure…
Time flew by and I kept wondering why I could not crack the mystery of people wanting to draw very thick lines on how far they could relate to me on emotional grounds, if at all they did. All along they had the unexplainable you-know-why expressions on… in reality I could not even vaguely guess what the fuss was all about..
I will never be able to say that the food scored over the bonding that grew between us over the several sprees where we binged on street food and chats. I found it hard that for some reason suddenly neither my emotional nor gastronomic cravings were being obliged like earlier. While I got over the lack of culinary delights.. I surely missed Ds closeness. I now had to beg and plead with D to go out with me…. the same D who until then would drag me out of whatever I was up to, at odd hours, and, on most days of the week…
I don’t know if I looked for these patterns or was it anything else that always highlighted it. In a few months’ time K came along… we shared common tastes and enjoyed each others company and conversations… At one point, where this rather platonic relationship teetered in the direction of becoming an emotionally engaging one… K raised the guard to reinforce a weakening will power that threatened to make a ‘sentimental pal’ out of K… It surely was a blow.. Realization was slowly dawning on me about what was behind all this misery…. I was not ready to name it yet, and for that reason pushed it again into the back of my mind..
On an otherwise very uneventful day.. after committing to a few moments of togetherness over some uninteresting dinner, R suddenly dropped plans. I don’t know if it was the hunger for food or for bonding that drove me to badger R for a justification… R tried to bring into perspective why it seemed inappropriate that I spend emotionally stimulating and fulfilling time with anyone anymore… While I agree the fact was not debatable… It seemed to me like I was an ignorant fool in being oblivious, when, I should have instead expected the world that I lived in all along to shut its doors on me so suddenly…
All these days, while I looked for answers everywhere.. it was all along right there, and, with me ….ALAS!!!! I had married!
The institution of marriage has unknowingly bred its police force that come in the form of your closest pals. Until the wedding vows are exchanged, they form your entire support system….. Soon after that, they elevate you to a special status (read as leaving you high and dry). I am at my wits end at trying to figure out if this behavior is indeed an insecurity that has a few hues of an ‘ required sacrifice’ as well?… In this rigmarole, the aforesaid sacrifice surely does not always leave the intended beneficiary feeling grateful or blessed. This process has an inherent design flaw visible even to the naked eye. It automatically incites painful thoughts of losing very dear friends. And, the pain only multiplies when it becomes apparent that the probability is even greater…How does one settle the conflict when the same set of people expect you to be around for them just like the good old days while not anymore saying it in as many words, also insist you to be with your spouse all the time so they can feel like they have done their bit by not demanding your time and attention any more. This conflict is further compounded by the belief that marriage makes two individuals one… while the truth is that the world by virtue of a seemingly unwritten code expects that after marriage one individual act like two?
Relationships are supposed to be all chemistry, and talking in chemical terms, I have begun to hope against hope that the special people I consider as my world do not decide to either individually or collectively, and, lesser so, on my behalf, hand me down a valence of just one…..it cannot be taken for granted!!
Glossary:
N, D, K, R - A few of my pals.. that are the only elements of beauty in my own little world … I cannot imagine life without them… and talking about it, I have left the ones out who thankfully so far haven’t displayed the behavioral disorder that is causing me so much grief…
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Boneless chicken and near misses…
This one is for anyone that can comprehend, or, wants to learn a little bit about the new dimension in the Indian culture called matrimonial sites…. The saga goes back to one fateful afternoon when after a lazy lunch, the prospect of branding matrimonial profiles as acceptable or thrash seemed more interesting than even just dozing off at the desk. I was asked an opinion on one particular profile that was otherwise labeled ‘snobbish’ by the other pair of eyes that had scanned through it. I somehow thought there was substance to the profile and sounded the GO verdict on the go-no-go stalemate, while I still struggled to pronounce the name without getting my tongue all knotted up.. but hey.. what’s in a name..
As it turned out to be.. the episode was heading in the direction of being a threesome orgy at breakneck speed, virtual of course… Every passing hour and day I would be apprised of what the latest conversation was, about and the tastes, likes, dislikes, preferences, et al of the profilee (KSP)… so much so that I had gotten adept at predicting what KSP would eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
With the passage of time.. the virtual world was becoming a beautiful painting with new colors and details filling up the canvas each day. I did not mind the onslaught and would listen to every tidbit of detail that was inflicted on me. All this just for the reason that it helped multiply the happiness and positive anticipation around the expected outcome. It was beginning to sound like the first stirrings of romance..... I learnt so much of KSP that I could have probably singled this entity out of a crowd even the first time…the parents as described seemed like most parents except they were painted several hues weirder than most normal folks… so on and so forth.
Several days passed and the sole right thumb had gotten so engrossed in the happenings, that it could type SMSes with the dexterity and nimbleness of several right hands. Several games of scrabbles were played.. a few won.. a few willingly lost. A lot of home improvement projects and a few ego battles later.. the day finally arrived. KSP who all along kept the painting live arrived with the family for a visit…. All seemed well all through other than the color of the sweet pudding that ended up being white instead of the preferred saffron.. several moments later after promising to talk again the byes were said…
Sometimes silence can be deafening.. and to try to help that situation.. the parents were prodded a few times. The male seemed very incomprehensible until he spoke through another ally that always seemed like the trouble monger, and indeed, that expectation was more than met soon. The ensuing conversations led us to ponder if we had staged the show to express interest in an alliance, or did it end up seeming like we were unprepared for an outright purchase.
Whatever it was, KSP, the hitherto bright and seemingly stand-up-to-ones-self types did not want to let down the folks. The events hurriedly converted them to the most virtuous folks complete with sanity and balanced minds, which was in total contradiction to how they had been painted all through, and even just until before the socializing event, and the sole reason for living alone and miles away from them. In any case… if things had jived the way we are conditioned to hope and pray they do.. KSP would have probably earned the dubious distinction of being the most expensive boneless chicken ever bought. Until this point.. no one ever told me that boneless chicken besides lacking the spine and gut.. lacks a heart too… While it is proven that a combination of the human brain and human heart does not necessarily work well always.. I think KSP was God’s way of experimenting whether the combination of a bird brain with a human heart.. or a human brain with a chicken heart (whichever) fared any better.
While the bitterness is slowly fading away I am forced to think about the disaster that would be if airplanes that were part to a mid air near collision actually collided.. would you rather call it a near hit or a near miss? I want to simply say.. Thank you GOD!!!
As it turned out to be.. the episode was heading in the direction of being a threesome orgy at breakneck speed, virtual of course… Every passing hour and day I would be apprised of what the latest conversation was, about and the tastes, likes, dislikes, preferences, et al of the profilee (KSP)… so much so that I had gotten adept at predicting what KSP would eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
With the passage of time.. the virtual world was becoming a beautiful painting with new colors and details filling up the canvas each day. I did not mind the onslaught and would listen to every tidbit of detail that was inflicted on me. All this just for the reason that it helped multiply the happiness and positive anticipation around the expected outcome. It was beginning to sound like the first stirrings of romance..... I learnt so much of KSP that I could have probably singled this entity out of a crowd even the first time…the parents as described seemed like most parents except they were painted several hues weirder than most normal folks… so on and so forth.
Several days passed and the sole right thumb had gotten so engrossed in the happenings, that it could type SMSes with the dexterity and nimbleness of several right hands. Several games of scrabbles were played.. a few won.. a few willingly lost. A lot of home improvement projects and a few ego battles later.. the day finally arrived. KSP who all along kept the painting live arrived with the family for a visit…. All seemed well all through other than the color of the sweet pudding that ended up being white instead of the preferred saffron.. several moments later after promising to talk again the byes were said…
Sometimes silence can be deafening.. and to try to help that situation.. the parents were prodded a few times. The male seemed very incomprehensible until he spoke through another ally that always seemed like the trouble monger, and indeed, that expectation was more than met soon. The ensuing conversations led us to ponder if we had staged the show to express interest in an alliance, or did it end up seeming like we were unprepared for an outright purchase.
Whatever it was, KSP, the hitherto bright and seemingly stand-up-to-ones-self types did not want to let down the folks. The events hurriedly converted them to the most virtuous folks complete with sanity and balanced minds, which was in total contradiction to how they had been painted all through, and even just until before the socializing event, and the sole reason for living alone and miles away from them. In any case… if things had jived the way we are conditioned to hope and pray they do.. KSP would have probably earned the dubious distinction of being the most expensive boneless chicken ever bought. Until this point.. no one ever told me that boneless chicken besides lacking the spine and gut.. lacks a heart too… While it is proven that a combination of the human brain and human heart does not necessarily work well always.. I think KSP was God’s way of experimenting whether the combination of a bird brain with a human heart.. or a human brain with a chicken heart (whichever) fared any better.
While the bitterness is slowly fading away I am forced to think about the disaster that would be if airplanes that were part to a mid air near collision actually collided.. would you rather call it a near hit or a near miss? I want to simply say.. Thank you GOD!!!
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Water World
I am now unsure whether it was the anticipation that began as the sun set the previous day or whether it was the promise of another beautiful and memorable day that got our aching bodies to feel nimble and lithe at the crack of dawn. Whatever it was, it succeeded in getting us to the promised seafront at Wandoor without a whine. Before arriving there, we drove for an hour, passing through patches of Tsunami affected terrain. That event evidently had changed the landscape permanently. Where there were at one time lush green fields that needed tilling, prawn and fish culturing were now the calling of the day. We arrived to be welcome by the sight of scavenging mutts that had risen early to seek out any food material the sea thought was inappropriate to remain within its bowels. The receding tide last night had left on the beach some sort of food like dead fish, broken oysters and other things which I could not even name. We found ourselves within a stone’s throw distance at a restaurant, living-quarters combo, from where the first citizen’s helicopter had landed a couple days earlier. We also discovered that in addition to the mutts that were the obvious first sights as we arrived, our instructor-master for the day was already awake and about, waiting for us to arrive, although we couldn’t at first say if he shared the sense of anticipation at all
To ward off any copyright and royalty issues in case this write up becomes famous enough to fetch me any money. I will refer to our instructor-master simply as S. At first go he seemed an easy talking fellow, until one point when our group’s collective opinion was he was seemed to suffer from a chronic case of verbal diarrhea, or, word vomiting, as a few would prefer to call it depending on which orifice their affinities are suited to. He chalked out our itinerary for the day which began with learning how to wear our wet suits and saddle the apparatus correctly complete with the use of each of the paraphernalia. And then after a very light breakfast we set off in a motorized dungi towards Mavadera. This place was a restricted island and was supposed to be ideal for our orientation of DSD.. (discover SCUBA diving), although I prefer to refer to it personally as Deep Sea Diving which sounds more exciting and adventurous. Even now, I just say DSD and do not elaborate on what it actually is unless asked for, just hoping that people think of it as deep sea dive..
Our beloved friend D looked absolutely ravishing in the skin tight wet suit which did its bit to highlight the various bulges and depressions on his otherwise nondescript frame. He was slated to finish his under sea adventure first because he had to be over the clouds in a few hours heading back home. We watched as his usually multifaceted expression changed from anticipatory to ponderous to what-the-hell-am-I-doing-this-for all the way through a few more fine ones which I cannot describe for all the life in me. It all concluded in him bobbing up the water surface screaming at the top of his lungs that he did not want to do what he was being asked to. At this point his expressions no longer mattered, however, we the ones that had the transient privilege of being up on the dungi gave each other reassuring looks that nothing inappropriate occurred under the water, and it was just that he was his sense of survival was getting to the better of his sense of adventure. After a bit of a struggle, he managed to enjoy for a brief time the wonders that the world 4 meters below the surface of the water had to offer. If not for his fast approaching deadline to begin his journey back home, he might have played spoilsport describing what our otherwise so far virgin thoughts of the under sea world were.
Our turn came a few hours later after we had seen D back to Wandoor, packed him off to the airport, eaten some lunch, were subject to the first of our fully paid physical miseries when we were dumped into the sea by the beach to learn swimming and acclimatize to the water and the diesel that formed a film on it from the dungi anchored in the vicinity. Until then, the only other insufferable misery was Ss condition. We headed back in the boat to Mavadera amidst questioning from a few other tourists about how much we were paying for what looked like a space mission except that it was headed in the opposite direction. I thought I actually saw celestial objects in their eyes when S quoted the cost. We went through our training session and by now were used to or rather getting weary of the continuous onslaught of his personal life and about what were the maneuvers we had to learn before we could dive down, and S continued to dole it out in all generosity. I kept wondering why hadn’t nature designed us such that 4 ears could bear more than 2, because when we exchanged glances, either of us were sure we were as bored as the other. I was actually glad that once the breathing apparatus was on, talking was off which was indeed a solace that complemented the tranquility of the surroundings both above and below water.
DS who was my company on this dive after initially sounding and seeming brave was literally dampened at the thought that none of the wet suits fitted her. We weren’t sure if that could be termed as a compliment to her seemingly brave façade or to her proportions. Owing to the latter, I personally worried that once in the water, she put us in the danger of finding ourselves in a frenzy of larger fishes like whales and dolphins who might find it a compulsion on their natural traits to inspect her at close quarters to either accept her as one of their own or let her pass for seals, sea lions, turtles or even possibly man made submarine or debris. Much as I did not want to say other nondescript creatures or ones not yet listed under Carolus Linnaeus' binominal nomenclature classification method, I must include that just to give it a sense of completeness.
After several trying moments and un-coaxed willingness to forfeit the small fortune that we had spent on this, we finally decided to go in for the dive. Being dumped in the sea backs first made me feel like fish food, but once in there all the pain and misery was forgotten. The world beneath was more beautiful than beautiful could be. The vividness and variedness was mind numbing, I would have been happy to drown in such a beautiful setting because to me it was heaven. There were fish and corals of indescribable colors and shapes. I felt like I was on television except that this time I was on the other side of the screen where all the live action was. I could live there forever, and wished endlessley that by some divine power, I could become one among the surroundings for eternity. It would be a hopelessly failed attempt if anyone tried to describe the world below, and owing to that sane thought, I am refraining from doing it. If you want to understand the 'depth' of the word beautiful.. then do the dive at least once in your lifetime is all i can offer. In the interim, DS managed to knock off the regulator (the mouth apparatus) from Ss mouth a few times, and ended up riding the waters like Lord Ganesha seated on Mother Parvati's lap. I ended up kicking him in the backside accidentally, I would have relished that though if I had done it consciously to get even with all the torments he heaped all along. All this in addition to the fact that he had dived with D in the morning plus the fact that DS wasnt built with any aerodynamic proportions quickly drained him of his energy. The only other part of that experience worth mentioning is watching DS try to get on the boat. It took none lesser than the marginal crew of the lanky dungi captain, another helper, the commandant from within the dungi and marginally one of the co passengers from within the dungi, in addition to S and myself from the water and alignment to the water current to hoist the mass out of the water and back into the dungi. All this while, another helpful co passenger shot rather embarassing footage of this attempt and a little more as you will find later.
On the way back to the shore in the dungi, and well out of the waters that were Ss forte where he tormented and treaded barefoot (occasionally with the artificial paddle fins he wore on his feet) on peoples confidence, he made the mistake of treading into dangerous waters that were American slangs. We had professional expertise in the form of co passengers that were incidentally call center employees. In one swift & lethal slash of the tongue they rendered S speechless. The intricacies of the phonetic difference between the expression Gosh “as in .. .oh my GOD!!”, and the word Shark were explained, they also threw in a bonus by distinctly establishing the meaning of both words in the common parlance in all American, English & Hinglish languages.
We were back on Wandoor beach at sunset. After the much required ablution and change back to clothes more acceptable on terra-firma. A little more of idle talk toyed with the idea of paying S a premium to torment, and drown, one of the founding heads of modern Indias IT industry. His offence for such well planned out treatment being that he had heaped generic insults on the occupation of our co-passengers. The only advantage that we collectively saw in doing it was to make full use of Ss verbal condition (which by now we were more content in believing was a dysfunction of his intellect than anything to do with any of his orifices) plus the fact that if any memorial were to be established at Wandoor in honor for the potentiall late business leader, then there might be a subsidy offered to the employees of that company for any "homage trips" they make to the Emerals Isles, in addition there might be DSD opportunities to pay him homage at his final resting place… all of course would be a part of the variable pay options….. and on par with existing industry standards
We were saying the byes to our co passengers who other than sharing the same age group and idea of fun as us, served us as allies to shut the sluice gates on the dam that was Ss oral orifice. And we realized only at a later date that we owed them thanks for being the videographers they were. Unawares to both parties until then, and to only them until eternity, they had a lot of their own “skinful” footage on my camera, which I believe was by virtue of them being in relatively liberating clothes (of course they weren’t there on a pilgrimage) plus the inexperience in handling a live cameras orientation. I mentioned about this briefly earlier, and I must add that of course, for that given day we had an overdose of uncovered skin already, but now in retrospect when I am back in a city that is about 8 hours from sea either to the west or the east and much more so to the south, I personally consider that footage as a treasure of the sea.
Just as we thought the day was over, a surprisingly intimidated S surfaced yet again. I think he got reprimanded by his boss that the mandated paperwork that absolved Laccadives Diving School’s incidental or direct risks arising out of a divers wish to SCUBA dive remained uncompleted and unsigned!! The perfectly undrowned and alive students of the days Discover SCUBA Diving lesson were back on terra firma and boarded a vehicle headed back to the hotel driving into the sunset.
A day that began with anticipation… was full of trepidation.. and ended in a very memorable and wonderful conquest….. I don’t know if the expression "vini... vidi... vici..." or the palindrome "Able was I, ere I saw Elba" is more appropriate.. with due respects to both Alexander and Napolean… I would rather say… as we drove into the darkness the only thoughts that kept coming to us were that "beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder"… And by some unknown grace, nothing got in the way of spoiling it.. not the fact that the first citizen had caused most other islands to be off limits to lesser mortals, not the fact that we had imbibed too much salt water, too much sun burn, had decided to give it up at the nth moment, and had almost forgotten to breathe with our nose whilst still out of water. We lived through it and will probably live to tell the story to generations to come.
Long live S!!!! and long live D, DS and the co passengers.. of course my heartfelt gratitude to the Dungi captain and Commandant Baht!!!
To ward off any copyright and royalty issues in case this write up becomes famous enough to fetch me any money. I will refer to our instructor-master simply as S. At first go he seemed an easy talking fellow, until one point when our group’s collective opinion was he was seemed to suffer from a chronic case of verbal diarrhea, or, word vomiting, as a few would prefer to call it depending on which orifice their affinities are suited to. He chalked out our itinerary for the day which began with learning how to wear our wet suits and saddle the apparatus correctly complete with the use of each of the paraphernalia. And then after a very light breakfast we set off in a motorized dungi towards Mavadera. This place was a restricted island and was supposed to be ideal for our orientation of DSD.. (discover SCUBA diving), although I prefer to refer to it personally as Deep Sea Diving which sounds more exciting and adventurous. Even now, I just say DSD and do not elaborate on what it actually is unless asked for, just hoping that people think of it as deep sea dive..
Our beloved friend D looked absolutely ravishing in the skin tight wet suit which did its bit to highlight the various bulges and depressions on his otherwise nondescript frame. He was slated to finish his under sea adventure first because he had to be over the clouds in a few hours heading back home. We watched as his usually multifaceted expression changed from anticipatory to ponderous to what-the-hell-am-I-doing-this-for all the way through a few more fine ones which I cannot describe for all the life in me. It all concluded in him bobbing up the water surface screaming at the top of his lungs that he did not want to do what he was being asked to. At this point his expressions no longer mattered, however, we the ones that had the transient privilege of being up on the dungi gave each other reassuring looks that nothing inappropriate occurred under the water, and it was just that he was his sense of survival was getting to the better of his sense of adventure. After a bit of a struggle, he managed to enjoy for a brief time the wonders that the world 4 meters below the surface of the water had to offer. If not for his fast approaching deadline to begin his journey back home, he might have played spoilsport describing what our otherwise so far virgin thoughts of the under sea world were.
Our turn came a few hours later after we had seen D back to Wandoor, packed him off to the airport, eaten some lunch, were subject to the first of our fully paid physical miseries when we were dumped into the sea by the beach to learn swimming and acclimatize to the water and the diesel that formed a film on it from the dungi anchored in the vicinity. Until then, the only other insufferable misery was Ss condition. We headed back in the boat to Mavadera amidst questioning from a few other tourists about how much we were paying for what looked like a space mission except that it was headed in the opposite direction. I thought I actually saw celestial objects in their eyes when S quoted the cost. We went through our training session and by now were used to or rather getting weary of the continuous onslaught of his personal life and about what were the maneuvers we had to learn before we could dive down, and S continued to dole it out in all generosity. I kept wondering why hadn’t nature designed us such that 4 ears could bear more than 2, because when we exchanged glances, either of us were sure we were as bored as the other. I was actually glad that once the breathing apparatus was on, talking was off which was indeed a solace that complemented the tranquility of the surroundings both above and below water.
DS who was my company on this dive after initially sounding and seeming brave was literally dampened at the thought that none of the wet suits fitted her. We weren’t sure if that could be termed as a compliment to her seemingly brave façade or to her proportions. Owing to the latter, I personally worried that once in the water, she put us in the danger of finding ourselves in a frenzy of larger fishes like whales and dolphins who might find it a compulsion on their natural traits to inspect her at close quarters to either accept her as one of their own or let her pass for seals, sea lions, turtles or even possibly man made submarine or debris. Much as I did not want to say other nondescript creatures or ones not yet listed under Carolus Linnaeus' binominal nomenclature classification method, I must include that just to give it a sense of completeness.
After several trying moments and un-coaxed willingness to forfeit the small fortune that we had spent on this, we finally decided to go in for the dive. Being dumped in the sea backs first made me feel like fish food, but once in there all the pain and misery was forgotten. The world beneath was more beautiful than beautiful could be. The vividness and variedness was mind numbing, I would have been happy to drown in such a beautiful setting because to me it was heaven. There were fish and corals of indescribable colors and shapes. I felt like I was on television except that this time I was on the other side of the screen where all the live action was. I could live there forever, and wished endlessley that by some divine power, I could become one among the surroundings for eternity. It would be a hopelessly failed attempt if anyone tried to describe the world below, and owing to that sane thought, I am refraining from doing it. If you want to understand the 'depth' of the word beautiful.. then do the dive at least once in your lifetime is all i can offer. In the interim, DS managed to knock off the regulator (the mouth apparatus) from Ss mouth a few times, and ended up riding the waters like Lord Ganesha seated on Mother Parvati's lap. I ended up kicking him in the backside accidentally, I would have relished that though if I had done it consciously to get even with all the torments he heaped all along. All this in addition to the fact that he had dived with D in the morning plus the fact that DS wasnt built with any aerodynamic proportions quickly drained him of his energy. The only other part of that experience worth mentioning is watching DS try to get on the boat. It took none lesser than the marginal crew of the lanky dungi captain, another helper, the commandant from within the dungi and marginally one of the co passengers from within the dungi, in addition to S and myself from the water and alignment to the water current to hoist the mass out of the water and back into the dungi. All this while, another helpful co passenger shot rather embarassing footage of this attempt and a little more as you will find later.
On the way back to the shore in the dungi, and well out of the waters that were Ss forte where he tormented and treaded barefoot (occasionally with the artificial paddle fins he wore on his feet) on peoples confidence, he made the mistake of treading into dangerous waters that were American slangs. We had professional expertise in the form of co passengers that were incidentally call center employees. In one swift & lethal slash of the tongue they rendered S speechless. The intricacies of the phonetic difference between the expression Gosh “as in .. .oh my GOD!!”, and the word Shark were explained, they also threw in a bonus by distinctly establishing the meaning of both words in the common parlance in all American, English & Hinglish languages.
We were back on Wandoor beach at sunset. After the much required ablution and change back to clothes more acceptable on terra-firma. A little more of idle talk toyed with the idea of paying S a premium to torment, and drown, one of the founding heads of modern Indias IT industry. His offence for such well planned out treatment being that he had heaped generic insults on the occupation of our co-passengers. The only advantage that we collectively saw in doing it was to make full use of Ss verbal condition (which by now we were more content in believing was a dysfunction of his intellect than anything to do with any of his orifices) plus the fact that if any memorial were to be established at Wandoor in honor for the potentiall late business leader, then there might be a subsidy offered to the employees of that company for any "homage trips" they make to the Emerals Isles, in addition there might be DSD opportunities to pay him homage at his final resting place… all of course would be a part of the variable pay options….. and on par with existing industry standards
We were saying the byes to our co passengers who other than sharing the same age group and idea of fun as us, served us as allies to shut the sluice gates on the dam that was Ss oral orifice. And we realized only at a later date that we owed them thanks for being the videographers they were. Unawares to both parties until then, and to only them until eternity, they had a lot of their own “skinful” footage on my camera, which I believe was by virtue of them being in relatively liberating clothes (of course they weren’t there on a pilgrimage) plus the inexperience in handling a live cameras orientation. I mentioned about this briefly earlier, and I must add that of course, for that given day we had an overdose of uncovered skin already, but now in retrospect when I am back in a city that is about 8 hours from sea either to the west or the east and much more so to the south, I personally consider that footage as a treasure of the sea.
Just as we thought the day was over, a surprisingly intimidated S surfaced yet again. I think he got reprimanded by his boss that the mandated paperwork that absolved Laccadives Diving School’s incidental or direct risks arising out of a divers wish to SCUBA dive remained uncompleted and unsigned!! The perfectly undrowned and alive students of the days Discover SCUBA Diving lesson were back on terra firma and boarded a vehicle headed back to the hotel driving into the sunset.
A day that began with anticipation… was full of trepidation.. and ended in a very memorable and wonderful conquest….. I don’t know if the expression "vini... vidi... vici..." or the palindrome "Able was I, ere I saw Elba" is more appropriate.. with due respects to both Alexander and Napolean… I would rather say… as we drove into the darkness the only thoughts that kept coming to us were that "beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder"… And by some unknown grace, nothing got in the way of spoiling it.. not the fact that the first citizen had caused most other islands to be off limits to lesser mortals, not the fact that we had imbibed too much salt water, too much sun burn, had decided to give it up at the nth moment, and had almost forgotten to breathe with our nose whilst still out of water. We lived through it and will probably live to tell the story to generations to come.
Long live S!!!! and long live D, DS and the co passengers.. of course my heartfelt gratitude to the Dungi captain and Commandant Baht!!!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
The melting pot..
I believe in the adage that the eyes see what the mind knows. And that day, after passing an otherwise dreary and totally forgettable corridor, which for a pleasant change, was decorated with a profusion of flowers and oil lamps, found the pattern continued into the work floor amongst other clutter and not-so-ambient equipment. After a quick mental tally and scoring out the possibility of any of the many festivals falling on that day, my guess was it had something to do with the demi-God’s visit. I found humor in considering other plausible explanations for the get-up-of-the-day, which was complete with the fairer sex in the group flaunting their best silks and adornments. I would probably never be able to say, or rank in the order of preference, which among a) staging a Suhaag Raat prop to make visitor’s cultural orientation seem more real b) impressing on the visitor the motherlands ranking in the floriculture business is for real or c) an ulterior motive like triggering an allergy in the already overly medicated foreigner gave me a kick. I really hoped there would be an opportunity to find out if my overactive imagination and the foreigner’s severely jetlagged mind possibly pondered over any or all of the same thoughts even if just for a fleeting moment.
I realized after the colorful and blazing start of the day, the evening was doomed (planned), and I already felt the bile rising in my gut. Another of those not-so-looking forward to get-together was on the agenda at one of the swankiest pubs in town. The only solace though was this time around there was company that could help me keep an I-am-enjoying-myself expression on through the entire evening and in the process, I might be able to actually enjoy it. After a lot of whining and delaying we found ourselves at the venue, that was in stark contrast to how the day began, dim lights, loud music and the natural inhabitants totally uninhibited by either the minimal garments on their own selves or by the profusion of it on the silk-sari clad brigade that made its way in. After the first round of drinks, and the customary exchange of pleasantries with folks you either would not want to be caught dead with or would probably never see again, the party progressed to bring together the best of both worlds. The effect resembled something out of the plethora of parties in the ceaseless saas-bahu sagas inflicted by television on our psych. The effect of the strobes was amplified as it bounced off the sheen of the fine silks, imitation jadaus, and zari borders as the ladies jived with each other to western music from the 80s and 90s. The flexibility on display and cool moves floored me. It possibly would have probably inspired Sania Mirza to play her game in a heavy Kanjeevaram or Manipuri. The payback to bequeathing attire that is professionally accepted, would be that a few of those irritating non-issues around her would have gotten taken care of. It might also have gotten her to withdraw her decision to not play within the Indian territory. The cascade effect would have been that the first citizen would not have been interrupted from her mundane task list to waste any amount of her time in trying to convince Sania. Boy did I miss Sania!! The package included its share of folks who not knowing what to do simply stuck out like a sore thumb. Their visages reminded me of saints because while the reflected nothing, they were not in denial either.
The high note of the evening was the food on the menu. In isolation, it combined two worlds, but when considered as a part of the larger picture, it probably did more than just that. A combination of papads, starters, Thai curry and rice, and of course, additional flavor was introduce when the speakers bellowed “Alice.. Alice.. who the F… is Alice...” (you will have to excuse the profanity. Since it is quoted verbatim, I am sure you will empathize) at which point the members of the opposite sex either denied or cut of any existing eye contact with anyone else, and everyone dived into relishing the final course of our humble curd rice and tangy mango pickle,. Just as I was beginning to bask in the glory of the diversity of our culture and how many variations we are built to maneuver and handle well, my thoughts and attention raced back to our esteemed visitor who was the man of the day in whose honor and joy this fun and frolicking was happening. He wore a very animated expression as he tried to down one too many of the drinks and maybe in his groggy mind was trying to make sense out of what was happening. I could not help but draw my own conclusion of what might be the impressions he will carry back
We like to burn oil lamps which when combined with the smell of fresh flowers gives a very distinct quality to the air in enclosed spaces ventilated only by central air conditioning. Of course he probably does not know that we are already immune to allergies that it might trigger and the lingering odors or aromas in the air the day after
The fairer sex almost everyday wears a sari to office, and it is an all purpose garb
It is being lady like to consume any form of alcohol very discretely
It is expected that ladies swarm & move together in groups like bees, the buzzing noise that accompanies the group is but a natural phenomenon
It is only appropriate that women dance with women
It is only appropriate that men dance with men
We like to let our hair down to the point of seeming schizophrenic whenever there are visitors
Etc….
My love of adages is making me circle back to quote the age old saying… Atithi Devo Bhava (Guests are Gods)… I am sure after all this he left with the feeling that he indeed is one, and I would be glad about it if he indeed did. Nevertheless, since we rallied around him all the time he was here and were pretty much at his disposal, I hope that he did not conclude that our warmth and hospitality was an expression of subservience ……
I realized after the colorful and blazing start of the day, the evening was doomed (planned), and I already felt the bile rising in my gut. Another of those not-so-looking forward to get-together was on the agenda at one of the swankiest pubs in town. The only solace though was this time around there was company that could help me keep an I-am-enjoying-myself expression on through the entire evening and in the process, I might be able to actually enjoy it. After a lot of whining and delaying we found ourselves at the venue, that was in stark contrast to how the day began, dim lights, loud music and the natural inhabitants totally uninhibited by either the minimal garments on their own selves or by the profusion of it on the silk-sari clad brigade that made its way in. After the first round of drinks, and the customary exchange of pleasantries with folks you either would not want to be caught dead with or would probably never see again, the party progressed to bring together the best of both worlds. The effect resembled something out of the plethora of parties in the ceaseless saas-bahu sagas inflicted by television on our psych. The effect of the strobes was amplified as it bounced off the sheen of the fine silks, imitation jadaus, and zari borders as the ladies jived with each other to western music from the 80s and 90s. The flexibility on display and cool moves floored me. It possibly would have probably inspired Sania Mirza to play her game in a heavy Kanjeevaram or Manipuri. The payback to bequeathing attire that is professionally accepted, would be that a few of those irritating non-issues around her would have gotten taken care of. It might also have gotten her to withdraw her decision to not play within the Indian territory. The cascade effect would have been that the first citizen would not have been interrupted from her mundane task list to waste any amount of her time in trying to convince Sania. Boy did I miss Sania!! The package included its share of folks who not knowing what to do simply stuck out like a sore thumb. Their visages reminded me of saints because while the reflected nothing, they were not in denial either.
The high note of the evening was the food on the menu. In isolation, it combined two worlds, but when considered as a part of the larger picture, it probably did more than just that. A combination of papads, starters, Thai curry and rice, and of course, additional flavor was introduce when the speakers bellowed “Alice.. Alice.. who the F… is Alice...” (you will have to excuse the profanity. Since it is quoted verbatim, I am sure you will empathize) at which point the members of the opposite sex either denied or cut of any existing eye contact with anyone else, and everyone dived into relishing the final course of our humble curd rice and tangy mango pickle,. Just as I was beginning to bask in the glory of the diversity of our culture and how many variations we are built to maneuver and handle well, my thoughts and attention raced back to our esteemed visitor who was the man of the day in whose honor and joy this fun and frolicking was happening. He wore a very animated expression as he tried to down one too many of the drinks and maybe in his groggy mind was trying to make sense out of what was happening. I could not help but draw my own conclusion of what might be the impressions he will carry back
We like to burn oil lamps which when combined with the smell of fresh flowers gives a very distinct quality to the air in enclosed spaces ventilated only by central air conditioning. Of course he probably does not know that we are already immune to allergies that it might trigger and the lingering odors or aromas in the air the day after
The fairer sex almost everyday wears a sari to office, and it is an all purpose garb
It is being lady like to consume any form of alcohol very discretely
It is expected that ladies swarm & move together in groups like bees, the buzzing noise that accompanies the group is but a natural phenomenon
It is only appropriate that women dance with women
It is only appropriate that men dance with men
We like to let our hair down to the point of seeming schizophrenic whenever there are visitors
Etc….
My love of adages is making me circle back to quote the age old saying… Atithi Devo Bhava (Guests are Gods)… I am sure after all this he left with the feeling that he indeed is one, and I would be glad about it if he indeed did. Nevertheless, since we rallied around him all the time he was here and were pretty much at his disposal, I hope that he did not conclude that our warmth and hospitality was an expression of subservience ……
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
