my article-city express

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im frustrated....

The city of Kochi will soon be overrun with small bridges. Confused? Well a drive through the lakes (more than 1 lakh on last count) formed on the beautifully cut, copy and pasted roads of the city, will warrant a need for them, before someone drowns in its apathy. Meetings, discussions, promises, contracts…the list of solutions and possibilities to this unending problem of man- made lakes on Kochi’s roads over the last 8 months is still to take wings. A suitable solution to this would be to rope in the services of PETA. Just imagine the number of insects such as ants being drowned in the tidal waves on the road, whenever a passerby or a vehicle travels through them. Entire colonies are being destroyed. Their sources of food are getting soggy. And with incessant rain and bad roads keeping the people away from shopping, there is not much for these insects within residential homes as well. PETA needs to be addressed about this serious famine and death issues so they can bring in their sniffer dogs, all chained in heavy lock and key, for evidence linking the deaths of these insects to the unfortunate rains battering the city’s well constructed roads. Of course, there could be a revolt from the mosquitoes and other superbugs, not to forget jaundice and common cold virus. They are having a ball for months now and would like to keep the party going forever. PETA being their parent organisation will have to listen to their needs as well. In this tug of war, between animal rights for ants and those thriving bugs, PETA would almost surely slip out and leave the matters in the hands of our corporation, lest they be accused of step-motherly treatment. After all, our councillors have ‘promised’ changes in the ‘coming’ days, they’ll say. Still we got a slim chance they may say yes and protest for better roads for the sake of the poor little ants if not for us humans, at the same time creating a pool of waste water elsewhere for the bugs to grow.

Another solution would be to invite the ISRO to come test their moon probes on the huge craters formed on the city’s roads. They could test for adaptability and ruggedness and even create shock absorbers for the same simulating our roads. The only problem would be whether these probes will find the city’s roads worse than the underdeveloped moon surface and claim for damages. For countering that, our hardworking councillors could be sent on a historic one- way voyage to study the terrain of Moon and decide the safety factor for ISRO’s probes. One- way cause the Malayalee in them will build a city and level the moon’s surface and of all things start a tea shop there as well. So why return to the craters of Kochi. And why return with empty promises.

crush...?anyone!!!

Now...ive been a guy who falls in love very fast...my close frnd akhil calls it as the butterfly effect....he says i can change from a caterpillar to a butterfly in a day's time and keep flyin from one flower to another until i find the right one. Though i've not been in many steady relation, i have always enjoyed my one sided experiences. Now this pretty girl in my school, used to keep me blue eyed at the age of 9. I kno i was too young, but cmon it was just a crush. My eyes wud follow her everywher...but like every crush of mine in the later years, this one too died fast...she was lookin at anotehr guy in class...and was askin me on tips to fine tune him...I had to be content being her brother....Even today....when i think of tat incident..i realise girls who smile a lot at you...half the time wud be doin so so that they can get favours done out of u.For guys who think a girl smilin at them is a sign of true love-beware.....u cud be her next big brother....

religion...

Now ive been an agnost for the better part of my life, only having changed my views recently. I always found it hard to understand the rituals associated with the church and the constant chanting of prayers. My mother once said i ought to have been born as a Buddhist, since their prayers involves just turning the scrolls on a pillar. The person who almost always influenced me in such matters of faith was a very close family friend, Asmi. She and her twin sister, Arya were my bro's age and they were our closest family friends in Delhi.  I was closer to asmi, for the main reason that she was more approachable. She used to fill my head with ideas about the One God and why worshipping idols was a waste of time. I used to stare in wonder at this girl of just 9 who would talk like she had just deciphered the reason for wars post 2000. Now, these twins were peculiar. Arya was tall and athletic; Asmi was graceful and petite. Asmi due to her small size was almost always targeted by bullies in the colony who would throw stones at her, hurting her in the process. Just so, she felt our side of the lane safer and would take me out on the cycle for her theology classes. Amen!!

next morn...

The sun was glorious the next day as i was finally even. When small and for some now even now, there's a feeling that the world moves only when we are present. A particular lane, a street or even parts of a city come alive as we walk through it. The remaining times they just remain still.Like statues. I too felt like that when i used to go on my long walks through the colony to the house of one of my sardar frnd who was as animated as mickey mouse on seeing me, like someone had just pushed the ON button behind him. Diwali was nearing and for the people of delhi diwali means spending a year's savings on one night of fireworks. It was always about who had the largest number of fireworks. Some of my rich frnds used to buy it for more than a lakh and that was 15 years back. Imagine today!!They would burn only a quarter of it and the rest would be given as charity to kids like me who celebrated diwali on a smaller scale and whose parents had some sense not to burn off hard earned money. The view of the delhi night sky during diwali is astounding. There's no night sky!!!Just white clouds and the smell of burned paper. Now celebrations here begin a fortnight before the festival with kids burning firecrackers throughout the day. This animated frnd of mine and his group of frnds used to be in the park always playing with the masala or powder inside the crackers and burning those too. when i reached his home noone was to be found. I later came to know he was in the ICY with only a chance he would regain his eyesight. The masala he was trying to burn had not lighted properly. when he went to check on it closely, it suddenly burst into his eyes. His eyes had been burned. But like they say, the spirit of Diwali remains with the brave. His face had patches and black spots everywhere but miraculously though his eyes were covered for 2 weeks, he regained his eyesight completely. But with that incident, my parents started buying me more crackers, afraid i would also start burning the masala if there wasn't enough of the original stuff for me to burn. Diwali had just found a new client.!!!

just desserts...

That week was hell for me...i was punched and beaten in all wwf matches....But they say with every bad day, ur good days add up. The setting was perfect-the small hall in our house. Mom away at work, a lonely evening, me and my brother playing cricket in tat tiny space, with a tennis ball and a bat bigger than us. As usual, i had been forced to ball to him while he batted. You could say ive never loved damage to property more than the one which just happened..I bowled slow, my bro swung the bat and whack!!! the tube shattered in the main hall.Ha...for the first time my bro had realised his days over me were numbered. We hurriedly picked up the broken pieces and cleared the waste. Half an hour later, like the commissioner, my mom came in. My bro as usual sat glued in front of the tv, though this time round, it was my fav channel playin...Mom walked thru the hall, switched on the fan, switched on the light...................................aaaaaaahhhhhhh((((((( the thot tat jus went thru my bros mind must have been sumthin like this))))))))).....and as she turned round, i realised even my secret wuld be discovered today. A double whammy awaited us.....

contd new..

Hindi, the dreaded language of we southies was more like gibberish script to me with a line on top. I used to always wonder why the top line was needed and i hated the way certain alphabets in it seemed same. Like ba and bha.Ka and kha. ta and tha. My hindi teacher had a tough time negotiating with me. But like they say, any language you don kno, ur sure to know the swear words it contains. So was it for me. Swearing in school and home while playing, hindi or for that any matter is grasped in this down to 'earth' manner. While at school, i was once reprimanded by my teacher for not doing my homework. She couldnt understand that none in my family were expert enough in hindi for me to do my work the perfect way she wanted. What followed was insult and humiliation. She made me go to my bro's clas, bring him out from ther(don forget he was the star among teachers back then too) and she insulted me in front of my whole class, with my bro by my side, tellin me to be more studious and smart like him. Obviously my bro didnt quite think the scolding was fair  and stood embarrassed as well. My repulsion for hindi and its teachers began from tat day...And my bro got the tool to blackmail me into losing the next few matches of our wwf fight-by threatening to tellin my mom, if i failed to allow him to throw me around on the bed and try out the stunts shown on tv......lol.wwf was really ingrained into us...

contd...again..after delay

The park in my first colony in delhi....aahh..the thought of it brings back memories of my dad buying me cricket bats month after month....the swings which i could never swing beyond 1 metre high, the rolling gates and the large number of wayward lazy trees leaving only a tiny piece of land free- which we called as our cricketing pitch. it was here that we used to converge every evening to try our hand at dodging the trees and hitting the boundaries. We could hit anywhere, due to the trees we were sure no one could catch our shot. Those evenings of bliss used to be interrupted by a wide variety of starry eyed stray dogs; salivating, red eyed and smelling. It was on such an evening that the trio of us reached the ground early. since no one else had reached by then, we decided to teach the dogs a lesson, to beware of human.....kids..?Ha. It was fun throwing small stones at them, making faces and staring into their eyes( something which we regretted and kept as a lesson for the rest of life). There were 5 dogs; big and rabied...what followed was pandemonium as we were chased by those 5 dogs throughout the park, with each of them intent on ripping us apart . After a few runs of being chased and fearing for my life, i noticed my valiant bro sitting atop the gate( how he climbed up i have no idea) and my tag partner ,abou ( the valiant stead?)outside while i was the bait for 5 hungry dogs........I ran, ran, ran and finally the 2 of them threw stones at the dogs and helped me to safety. Respect for animals comes easily once u see their dark side. It was then i realised i would be an utter waste being an army man...i would run away the minute a few hungry enemy troops came behind me...I guessed i was meant for internal stuff....-wwf on the bed..not on the field...

contd..3

Now, there was this second cousin of mine who was as close to me as a bro and shared my same passions of saddisms and talking crap. I mean crap literally, not figuratively. Abou, was from a small age my better companion, who from a small age used to imagine himself as the dude in town, the all knowing jack of all trades. i was fascinated by all his bluffs and his art of story telling relating my sardar frnds and lots of dirty talk. Abou stayed near our first house in delhi and half the time me and my bro would run over ther, mainly to play wwf. we were crazy fans of wwf and would have entry lights, songs and skill show-offs before the fighting began. Me and abou would almost always be a team since my bro was like a bulldozer in those days. He was double the both of us put together. After all the initial hype, me and abou would remain outside the bed, waiting for the other to go tackle my bro. In other words, we wer jus plain scared of broken ribs, broken teeth and the biggest weapon that the three of us employed against each other, something which has remained our da vinci code and cannot be revealed here. Abou once almost choked and was gasping for breath for 10 mts. We thot we had lost him, but the loser was just acting. he later told me he did it so that my bro could employ p ateh secret weapon against me and leave him alone. So much for the fighters.

apart from fighting, playing cricket and boasting of our favourite cricket shots and executing them in the air, something we three enjoyed was making fun of dogs. And finally one day, we got our just desserts......

contd...

Risk-that single word is enough to make the biggest chicken guy of all times act like some gut-filled dude down the lane. people talk of loving to take risks, but counting the number of ppl who actually take it is as easy as a,b,c. I don take too many stupid risks, but sometimes if i feel i might regret later for not trying, i would always be game for -limited risk. walking out to play wid ma hand injured and cut was bad enough. The fact that i got out for a duck, dropped a catch and then had to go home crying due to the intense burning of ma hand after the match was worse. I had developed my phobia for diving into open spaces from that day on. It reminded me of spaces filled with glass shreds
Phobia is something that is created when u lose something u imagine ul win always. My love for acrobatics ended tat day.My fear of lizards remained. But finally one day i reversed it, and at the age of 7 took one lizard by its tail, dipped it in a bucket of water in my first home in delhi and killed it. I had conquered my fear. i had reversed phobia. From loss to victory. It was fun seeing the horrified look on my houseowner's face when she saw what i did to the lizard and most importantly to the bucket of water kept for bathing by someone in the house. she complained, my mom came roaring, i realised my back was not as thick as a hippo and i ended up on ma bed watching the lizards on my wall, satisfied that they were my pets from now on. Even today, i encourage their growth.They keep my room free from mosquitoes and more importantly they keep away from me.

contd..

with my priest dream gone sour and sausages relegated to the back of my mind, i realised i can get as confused as ever. even in the way i behave. Once while practicing for a major inter street cricket match, i saw the ball go towards an area of the park, littered with glass waste. Wanting to be the evergreen bold captain, i dived-result:a thick shard of glass entered my hand, the scar of which still remains in my right hand. Not only did i cry out in pain, i was effectively ruled out for the next day's match. on reaching home, my bro and me covered my bleeding hand with just a band-aid.Stupid us. My mom literally fainted when she came back that evening and saw blood still flowing out. That night i realised that all the hype and humour u see on tv about people putting cotton to their ears to insulate the sound is jus crap.Cotton is transparent to a lil bit of sound waves. Especially my mom's. Finally after 2 hours we managed to stop the bleeding. I was too small to realise another few hours and i would be saying...tata.....birla....bye...bye to the world.The glass piece was finally taken out. And good tat cotton allowed the scolding to enter.I learnt that being a hero for silly things isnt tat-its being stupid.unfortunately that bit of sense prevailed in my mind only till the next morning when i saw everyone go out for the match. I threw my sense out, and rushed out eager to show a healthy hand and reclaim my captaincy....

Contd....

I soon realised being a priest is not all about eating sdausages and singing songs.U need some divinity, it wasnt meant for me.I had begun my long walk into the realms of confusion. Josie uncle loved smoking pipe and i used to think he looked like a rockstar with it in his mouth. I tried it once, only to realise the harshness of strong tobacco on tender throat. An immediate repulsion to smokin developed in me and i had joined the long list of anti-tobacco kids, who had not yet found out its pleasures!!

In delhi, cricket was a game played not just as a silly game , but rather a game worth an india-pakistan war. Here the streets always took the analogous form of the bitter nations, as i found out soon. We had formed our own team. I was made the captain( not a boast) since the bat and wickets were most of the time mine.So much for my wishful thinking that i was the only genuine all rounder in the colony. I pipped my bro to the captaincy post since even tho my bro was better than me any day in any game,he was a wide waist guy back then(totally unlike now) and i was the nataraj pencil round the block-waiting to be knocked and chopped by the bullies. My time would come tho .I was close friends with the bullies of the opposite street and tat was a big plus point to stand out among a group of cowards(including me)

priest 2

Now there was another reason for this particular priest fantasy-sausages.I love sausages , ham an anything that is processed meat.One of my uncles who was a priest in Delhi goes by the name of Fr. Josie.He was a sausage maniac like me and wheneevr he visited us would bring huge quantities of them for us. when we visited his seminary, i would be filled with awe seeing the fried sausages kept in 3-4 hot cases waiting to be eaten by a half dozen priests.I would rush in fill my pockets with it and get out before they could come out of their prayer room. Wat a delight it was to see them wonder who stole half the sausages and ransacked their cases.Ha!!

my priesthood dream

Now the reason i wanted to be a priest at one point of my life, had nothing to do with my being a very religious guy.Rather it was a rebel decision.Most of my decisions are. Priests would get respect wherever they went irrespective of who they were. they never needed to worry bout the lines of a hit guy or a loser.And last of all, i was peeved when people would tell my bro was angelic enough to be a priest. Another reason which i think influenced me a lot, was a particular priest known as Father Willy.Originally from Goa, he was a 1000 kv charged super battery.He was great with us kids, very pragmatic and above all very fair in his dealings.

continuation........not silsila...

Ive always wondered why people who are a big hit in one group of friends might not find the going that easy elsewhere, while some who are moderate someplace manage to upgrade. The losers always love remaining as the loser. They find so much happiness in it. right from my days in Delhi, ive tried to upgrade from that moderate group. Since i had good speaking skills while in school and good cultural skills later on,  managed to hang onto the thin line between the moderate and the hitman.....In delhi, it was all about the best cricketer in the block. he competition was fierce in those heady days of sachin, azharuddin and manoj prabhakar.My hero came much later though. People in delhi become mature very fast and then remain like that throughout their life. My friend sonu, his cousin nonu and my bro were the only ones who loved being ourselves back in delhi. In that city noone cares whether ur a loser or a winner.

the twist: A novel i plan to convert

the twist: A novel i plan to convert: "'Hello have you reached home?' 'Yes' you reply into the landline receiver wondering what a dumb question to ask.How else could you have pic..."

A novel i plan to convert

"Hello have you reached home?" "Yes" you reply into the landline receiver wondering  what a dumb question to ask.How else could you have picked the phone if you hadnt reached.Call it an instant case of mental recoil or unwanted garb.I call it life. Its strange how people cry out and say they want independence while they are small.But once they meet the girl of their dreams they dont mind losing out on that.Its more of a mental recoil once more.I call it life.

When i was small ,playing cricket like any crazy indian was the only thing in my minute cranial capacity.Hitting the ball for six off kids much younger to me and writing down my statistics for all to read.....aah...life then was different.Noone calls you a braggart, they just remain awestruck.Life was always about impressing the pretty young girls across the block but of course none of us was ever interested in a fling at such a young age.Wat an irony!!

The ice cream man would almost always hde behind the corner of the park and the minute he saw us go inside our home for refreshments after a match,he would start his high pitched verbal advertisment.Result: we would drop the bun or bread on offer at home, plead for money and rush out.Those days of carefree excesses.The money was never our own. We never cared how it got spent.

Delhi was like the perfect place back in the early 90's. The old world charm coupled with people who were beginning to understand the term liberalisation, used to make the national capital almost irresistible. when we moved in , i remember being awestruck of the wide roads and blaring rickshaws, and can i forget the good old ambassadors and omni's.Coming from Kochi, which today has reached the level of delhi back then and after a short while in darjeeling, delhi i knew was the ultimate place to be.Maybe my hormonal senses which were beginning to develop right from class II was enough proof of that.

I have this little problem.I love my share of attention. Maybe that's why i take the initiative almost always to stand out among the crowd. Be it batting lousily while everyone else plays well or speaking in malayalam to the icecream man so as to get his attention away from others or ordering something exotic while everyone else stuck to their plain old fried rice and chilly chicken- the most staple diet of any indian household in a  restaurant.I also have issues at talking straight on looking at the face of a girl....except if the girl in question is very close to me(pun intended). Now chances like that rarely come through though.

The beauty of delhi remains that the residential areas are divided into colonies and sectors. To each his space. Like an intergalactic family on a mission to planet delhi, me and my family were assigned duties to the colony ruled by sikhs. Wherever i looked Sardars , some laughing , some with their hair left free looking like cute girls were walking around. We were the only christian family in that neighbourhood. Being small and never really a religious guy back then , it never mattered to me. I had imagined sardars to be dancing around whole night and even in offices, that's the image we southies generally have of them. They are dancers. But once they get angry, they pick their mighty swords and do whatever required to protect their honour. All these stories i realised are just figments of imagination of a southie whos never gone anywhere north. Just like all northies think the whole of south is a single state-madras.

Schooling in delhi is always a pleasure.PYT's , PYT's again and more PYT's. I was just beginning my long walk into the life that i would eventually be consumed by. That's why i say life is a mental recoil. What we do unto others is done unto us in the long run.Like a cycle.Guess great philosophers have spoken from experience and not just wishful thinking.

My bro and me were like chalk and cheese , that's the term ive discovered as i grew up to identify two very varied items. He was smart, gentlemanly and a charmer. I, on the other hand was a rebel from day one, even inside my mother's womb so she says. She once fell off from a fast moving jeep while i was inside her tummy. but instead of accepting defeat and passing away, she says i built a wall with my fists and shielded myself. How else could i have escaped imminent death. Guess i was a fighter right from the time i defeated a particular million other beasts to the time i emerged outside.Period. Known as a boy who'll get cranky and wanted everything in doubles and never one with a responsible behaviour in front of others, i at times used to think im an outsourced american-arrogant and rude, though charming with a  few interesting ppl. Appearances too didnt help. While my bro used to look clean and cute, i loved my rugged, rough look. I used to find solace thinking cute is meant for dogs. And i definitely am not a dog.Ha.

If that sounded like a sweet and sour mix of my elder bro, well my mom deserves better. "fight" , the referee in our minds whistle from the time we set sight on each other. Its almost as if our whole life is based on the fact that our love needs to be shown through fights. When i was small, the battle lines were drawn mainly for my playing time, church time , eating time(oh yeah i used to gorge a lot) and even my tv time. She used to take me to church promising me 'golu gappa' in return. the bribe was satisfactory and the truce would be accepted. I now think, if not for the bribes maybe i would never know what it means to go out with our parents. Touching.My mom used to always think i'm the biggest heartthrob in town.She used to be scared that i would be whisked away by some girl and my marriage would be a love affair. Though its too early to discount that, some out-of-work astrologer drove that into my mind when i was just 3 years old. So much for my good boy image. My bro on the other hand, was destined for an arranged marriage and my mom left him free. The result: he's married already, a love marriage that too, while i wonder where the astrologer went wrong.

I was always rebuked for being a lazy bum, so unlike my dad who was the epitome of hard work in our family. I used to wonder why a boy of jus 8 years old needed to work hard.I guess i was being trained to be the perfect family man.Baah!! My dad loved his work so much he would get up early in the morning to reach office one hour earlier.And his main hobby through the years has been to teach me to wake up at 6 am.as if im gonna budge. One of the biggest life changing incident in my childhood was when my dad took me outside and showed the revolving disc of the electricity meter.I, who used to be an energy spendthrift till then saw the massive speed of rotation of the disc due to my actions. From that small age of 8 years old, even if i didnt learn the lesson of getting up early, i learnt about energy conservation even before the g-8 or g-20 or whoever even thought of it. even today, my hand automatically goes to switch off the fan and lights in a room as i leave it.A lesson well ingrained.

Growing up as the smallest kid in the family, i would always wonder when i would get a my chance to be the dream bully. Years later i did get a sis, but sweet guy that i am, the word bully never even crossed my mind. Delhi used to always have tall well built soldiers walking around with the pride of a lion amidst a fowl of peahens. Looking at their pumped up chests and the awe of the PYT's on seeing them, i knew where i wanted to end up. The Army!!!

Incidents in real life as in reel life occur not as a cliche situation but as a firm reminder that movie makers do their bit of homework.rather than telling that we are being very cinema-like. movies are based on what happens in real life.a prime case would be that of the relations and sacrifices between childhood friends,scenes in which we wish we would go sheeeeeshhhh.My closest friend during my growing up days in delhi(i doubt if ive still grown up) was this sardar guy called Sonu. Always laughing and cackling, i got my jackal-hyena mix type of laughter from tat guy. He would untie his hair most of the time and walk around like a rockstar, wearing shorts and showing off his fat biceps.But he was what you can call a true friend.Thick buddies that we were, once while playing in the courtyard of his home, i happened to break one window pane. Consoling me and telling me to go home , he took the entire blame when his dad came running down.As expected he got a tight bashing and a cut from his pocket money for 3 months.100 rs/month in those days was like 10k today.even today i cant forget how a guy could sacrifice so much for his friend at a tender age of 8.Ive been trying to locate him all through the years, but not knowing his full name its difficult to find him online. It was that day, i realised why Sikhs are known to maintain their honour and dignity.

Growing up in such a neighbourhood, with such wonderful people around me, made me think childhood is the best time in one's life. Waking up at 7, school, returning in the good old cycle rickshaws, running off for cricket till nite, coming back either as a loser , a winner or a bruised body after a fight, tv and sleep.That was heaven.But life never makes it easy, especially not for a fighter like me.If one day would go well with utter happiness, the next would be one of sadness or rebuke.Days were tough being a black beauty(ha) in a block filled with wheat grains. taunts were regular but it was fun to see myself giving pleasure and laughter to a section of people around me. I used to think of myself as the angel to brighten up the otherwise pitiful life of many people around me.They could make fun of my colour, they could make fun of my hindi, but they would never leave me alone. One reason i never saw harm in any racial taunt.It was all part of life's recoil.

I have always wondered how easily i fall in love. A pretty smile, good hair and a good set of teeth...aahhh i can swoon over these anytime of the day.My requisites for my perfect girl were met regularly while in delhi. My first crush whose name i obviously cannot mention here was while i was in my 3rd std.So much for teen love and cupid's arrow.I was born with it in my hand.Harmless crushes, dreaming about myself as the hero of a movie, with a perfect toothed, beautiful hair girl as my heroine was my idea of daydreaming. Some might say i'm too self absorbed.I might be, but eventually for me those days fuelled my imagination and made me realise life is rosy if u want it to be.

My dream to be in the army increased by the time i moved higher up on my heels by an inch.But by then other issues like the fitness requirements and the need to wake up early, no specs, being away from your loved ones for long; all these started bothering me. The first of many's in my clueless life started as i shelved the army dream ad began contemplating priesthood.