Friday, November 2, 2012

The Irreligious Dog




The Masjid in a small nondescript town had been pulled down by Hindu fanatics about a week back. The town which had long lost its importance and had become a faded page in the annals of history had suddenly been catapulted to the limelight. The land long forsaken by the God’s played host to humans now. However for some strange reason, the humans seemed to be invoking the God’s using loud speakers. The cacophony consisted of loud calls of “Allah Hu Akbar” interspersed by “Jai Sri Ram”.

 Hordes of people had arrived prior to the beginning of the vandalism. The triumphant crowd of fanatics decided to rub salt in the wounds by staying back in large numbers to show their strength in numbers. The denizens of the small town which comprised members of the Hindu majority and the Muslim minority suddenly found themselves in none too likeable position. The numbers on the Hindu side swelled like a pregnant river with the melting of the snow in the summers. However the worst off were not the two legged Homo sapiens who had lived like the siblings of step parents before the act of vandalism. The worst off were the four legged dogs who used to be the kings of their streets, but no longer. This is the story of one such four legged dog.

The town which used to already overflow with humans, cows, dogs, monkeys and garbage was now bursting at its seams. The fanatics had set up camps around the Muslim localities in order to flex their muscles so that the Muslims might not conduct any misadventure like breaking the makeshift temple built over the Masjid which in turn had been built on top of a temple. Ghetto's soon formed with the youth on each side holding their positions like battlements. Each side held their ghetto with the military precision with night watchmen and lookouts posted. Skirmishes were common in the dark of the night as the "Kattas" or country made guns were common.

It was the turn of Ramu to be posted as the night watchman of the Hindu camp along with half a dozen others. They held forth on an "L" shaped street corner, with one end of the "L" being the Hindu border and the other end of the "L" being the Muslim border. Ramu having arrived just after the Masjid had been vandalized was feeling left out and bored. He could not prove his bravado as the brick and mortar of the Masjid had fallen before he arrived at the site. What would he tell his friends when he returned back? Mulling over these thoughts and drowsy with sleep his thoughts wondered off to the "Katta" he had purchased just before boarding the train to this godforsaken town.

Suddenly he became alert, were his ears playing tricks or did he hear a scurrying sound emanating from across the street corner. Maybe the one of the Muslims was trying to escape the Hindu embargo forced upon them. Maybe a good time to test the precision of his "Katta". Maybe the time for him to return a hero had arrived. As all of these thoughts were swirling in his mind, he concentrated in the darkness towards the street corner. He was disappointed when he saw the source of the sound. It was a scrawny looking impoverished young dog who seemed to be sniffing around the roadside for some food. On smelling the human, the dog’s ear stood in alarm. But being a street dog he was used to the kindness of humans who threw scraps at him and sometimes kicked him when he lingered longer than necessary. Maybe this human would give some food and with these thoughts it scampered towards the human its tail swinging from side to side. Ramu breathed a sigh of relief as he relaxed on seeing the dog. Bored as he was and desperately seeking the intimacy of some living thing, he welcomed the dog’s friendship request. Searching his pockets, he found a scrap of the leftover roti from his dinner earlier in the evening and threw it over. The dog gobbled up the roti and started yelping and wagging its tail even more. By this time the rest of the night guards had come over to Ramu's corner to see what the commotion all about was.
The dog suddenly found an abundance of food as each of the people parted with some food scraps. They decided to play with the dog to while away their boredom. As the dog playfully jumped around, it endeared itself to the humans with its doggyness. The dog started showing them all the tricks it had learnt over its lifetime of 2 years like standing up on two feet, chasing its own tail, sniffing at the crotches of humans.


For some apparent reason, it felt these humans loved its trick of standing up on its hind legs maybe it was because the humans walked in that funny way on their two hind legs. Hanumant one of the guards asked Ramu what the name of the dog was. Ramu thought over it and said lets first get a string and a piece of cardboard and we will think of a name meanwhile. Lakhan one of the other guards was sent away to arrange for a string and a cardboard to tie a dog tag around the dog. As Lakhan returned with the essentials, Ramu set about tying the string around the dog's neck. What was this? There already was a name tag on the dog and horror of horrors it had been christened as “Chappad Ganju”.
As an afterthought someone had added a second line in green ink on the dog tag. The name tag on the dog read

Chappad Ganju
A "Muslim"Dog

As Ramu told about this new development to the other guards, the oldest among them Sitaram said we too can play this game and beat the previous masters of Chappad Ganju at their own game. As he was speaking he along with Ramu tied the new string along with the cardboard dog tag around the dog. On it was scribbled in red ink

Shappad Sanju
A "Hindu" Dog

Chappad nee Shappad did not mind the string around its neck on the contrary it felt elated. This was the second string which had been tied around its neck on the same day. As the string meant among the dogs that it had friends now who would take care of it and provide food forever. All of its fellow street dogs dreamt of a string such as this around their scrawny necks. Ohh!! How proud it felt? How jealous its friends would feel when they saw these two beautiful strings around its neck.

As the night became ripe into a nascent blooming day, all the guards including Ramu, Hanumant, Sitaram and Lakhan retired to their tents to catch their forty winks. Chappad nee Shappad followed them into the camp thinking that maybe some new games will be played here. But the guards all went away to take a nap. Chappad being Chappad started feeling bored so decided to wander off in the streets. Maybe show off its newly tied strings to its friends on the nearby streets. So off went Chappad nee Shappad on its jaunt. That day was the best day of its life as all the other street dogs looked up at him in awe. As Chappad nee Shappad recounted its tale of how two strings had been tied by two separate human groups, it felt it was the cynosure of all the audience comprising of 5 other dogs (2 among them rabid), 3 cows, 2 calf’s, and 14 vultures near the local dump yard. Oh!! How proud its parents would have felt if they would have been alive today?

As the day turned from ripe to riper and the heat became unbearable, Chappad nee Shappad started feeling sleepy and retired to a shady spot near the dump yard to doze off. It dreamt and in its dreams it saw the bearded Rahim tying the first string around its neck and then followed by the duo called Sitaram and Ramu tying another string around its neck. Soon 9 separate clouds wafted in and Chappad nee Shappad was playfully jumping from one cloud onto the other trying to catch the butterflies wafting around them. Then suddenly it felt as if something gave away. The clouds dissipated and Chappad nee Shappad had a free fall. Its arms and legs flailing it landed painfully on its back on the ground. The pain was unbearable, it wanted to yelp in pain but no sound emerged. It felt something cold on the fur on its back. Slowly it turned its head to see Rahim standing there, eyes glowering at it. Chappad nee Shappad could not understand the glowering eyes and turned around to see Ramu, Sitaram, Lakhan and Hanumant also standing nearby huffing and puffing with anger.

Just at this moment a rickety old police jeep with its sirens blaring signaling the beginning of the nightly curfew passed near the dump yard startling poor Chappad nee Shappad from its sleep. Brrrrrr!!! Darkness had set in and Chappad nee Shappad had just broken a cold sweat which felt even colder as it dripped down its forehead. That was a very strange dream thought Chappad nee Shappad. Why had his human friends looked so strange? Where had the benevolent smiles disappeared? "Ohh!! Forget it". It’s just a stupid dream, that’s what it told itself as it shrugged off the eerie feeling.

As the night grew darker Chappad nee Shappad stretched its legs and felt a soft growl in its stomachs. It decided to pay its human friends a visit as after all the humans had tied strings around its neck solemnizing the bond of friendship only yesterday. The humans would definitely arrange for some food which would silence the two rats rumbling in its empty stomach. It walked towards that "L" shaped street corner where its friends lived.

Rahim, a strapping lad of two score and five years was guarding the Muslim end of the street. Armed with his own "Katta" he felt comfortable as the warmth of the cold steel made him feel alive. Just as he was about to open the packet containing his dinner to eat, he saw that friendly street dog walking towards him with its tails wagging. "Well, Hello!! Chappad Ganju. Where had you been yesterday night? I had brought an extra roti for you yesterday, but you never showed up. As he remembered the wasted food of yesterday Rahim kicked at Chappad Ganju. Chappad thinking it was some new game its friend was playing side stepped the kick easily and started wagging its tail even more. Rahim laughed as the dog came closer and nuzzled its head near him. "I missed you Chappad Ganju. You had me worried yesterday night when you didn't turn up" Rahim said. As he was talking with the dog, Rahim brushed the back of the dog. That is the time when he realized that there was a new dog tag around the dogs neck. He took his torch out and tried to read what was written on the new tag. As he finished reading, Shappad Sanju - A "Hindu" Dog, his blood started boiling. The bile turned inside him. That bitter taste called hatred stung his tongue with vehemence. "Bastards!!!" Rahim shouted loudly so that his voice travelled the "L" of the "L" shaped street corner to no one in particular. The fury which had been convulsing inside him had inadvertently found vent in his fingers which had started pinching the furry back of the dog. Chappad tried to ignore the pain thinking it was a game, but then it became unbearable. It yelped in fear and slunk away from Rahim. This was the time when Rahim realized he had been trying to smother Chappad and as a result the dog had slunk away. Breathing in and out he controlled his anger and contemplated upon the course of action to be taken.

Rahim took out his pen and scribbled some of the choicest expletives targeted at the other community on the dog tag. Then feeding the dog with a scrap of Roti, he instructed it, "Chappad Ganju, take my message which is tied around your neck to your unholy friends. Don't wander away trying to fool me. I have learned to hate all traitors, and there is no disease that I spit on more than treachery. Your treachery if you dare to show it will be awarded with death". Chappad Ganju was feeling a sense of déjà-vu as it noticed a change in the way the human was speaking with it. Why was it feeling like the human was speaking harsh words to it? "Now go away you ungrateful wretch" bellowed Rahim as he kicked the dog.

Yelping away and not sensing what had gone wrong with the human, it tried to limp away to the other end of the "L" shaped street. As it turned around the sharp 90 degree corner of the "L: shaped street, Ramu and his night guard friends noticed it limping towards him. The initial sense of happiness on seeing the friendly street dog was snuffed out like a candle in a storm when Lakhan whispered aloud, "Did you see, that mangy dog just came from the Muslim side of the street?" "We gave it food and played with it yesterday and look that unappreciative dog is still showing loyalty to it old masters" scorned Hanumant. Sitaram shouted aloud "traitor". Ramu pulled out his country made "Katta" and aimed at the limping dog. Grinding his teeth in anger, Ramu muttered "even dogs need to decide if they are Hindu or Muslims".

KATTA
The first bullet fired from Ramu hit inches from the front paw of Chappad nee Shappad. It got scared, more from the loud bang which emanated from the gun than the smoke emitting from the ground in front of it where the hot bullet had got lodged. Chappad nee Shappad stood glued to the ground unable to comprehend what was happening over here even as Ramu and his friends were shouting expletives at it aloud. The brain on Chappad nee Shappad was working in overdrive, first the angry muttering from the solitary human followed by the hard kick and now the loud bang and the shouting by the other group of humans. What had it done to deserve this?

Just at this moment a second loud bang could be heard followed by the shattering of its left foreleg. The pain was unbearable for poor Chappad nee Shappad. It hobbled and looked imploringly towards Ramu and his gang who seemed to be shooing him away. Turning on its heels, it tried to return the way it had come. A third bang was heard as Rahim nodded with satisfaction on seeing the smoke emanating from the barrel of his "Katta". Unfortunately the bullet had missed its mark as the dog had been hobbling up and down. Rahim shouted loud enough for the dog to hear, "Remember who you are, do not show treachery in front of me otherwise you will die a dogs death". Poor Chappad nee Shappad was terrified by now. What bloody evil had taken over the minds of these people? Why were they trying to harm it? Chappad nee Shappad looked with tears running down its eyes and blood flowing from the stump of what was left of its left foreleg. It was standing exactly at the corner of the "L" shaped street as these ghastly events were unfolding in front of it. Chappad nee Shappad looked imploringly to the right once where the group of humans still stood shouting loudly then it looked left where the solitary human was brandishing his gun at it.

It tried to take a step forward towards the pavement away from Rahim and Ramu. Ramu and his friends thought the dog was coming towards them while at the other end of the street Rahim felt the dog was returning towards him. Angered by the insolence showed by the dog, Rahim fired off his weapon of death a second time that night and the bullet hit the dog this time. Before the sound of the Muslim gun fire had died down another loud bang was heard as a second bullet pierced the dog. This time the culprit had been the smoking "Katta" in the hands of Ramu. Chappad nee Shappad yelped one last time before life ebbed away swiftly and a calm darkness enveloped its eyes.



Authors Note: The author has no intention of disrespecting any community. Please do forgive the author if this story offends any ones sensibilities.

If only all of us would realize that no one can build a country on their own. A nation is great when we built it together.

As a parting thought the author would like to say Thank You to Sadat Sahib.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Bada Dethei - A Personal Post

Bada Dethei has passed away..Thats what the SMS read when I read it
around midnight on 26th April 2012. Just as the reluctant darkness of
the room was sliced by  the light of the moblie screen, the news
sliced through me to sink in reluctantly....

Bada Dethetei to my non-Odiya friends is the wife of the eldest
brother of my father.....How could the news be true? I admit that she
had complained of chest pain a fortnight back. But the Doctors had
gone through with the whole gamut of tests and declared that she was
fine....But I knew the news was true,because it was sent by my sister
in law and I know her very well. She would never say such a thing in
jest.....

My wife was sleeping peacefully at the other end of the bed....I had
by that time re-read the SMS atleast 5 times....and it still read the
same....I went blank....I did not know what to say....what not to
say....how to react....My mind became absolutely blank....I stood up
and then sat down...and then walked out to the balcony of my
house......The night was a balmy one and I could see the stars
twinkling.... I read the SMS again....Realization set in...No matter
how many times I read the SMS...it will continue to shout out the same
bad news in its own mute way.....

Words were failing me but strange enough my tears were failing me
too.....I uttered a prayer asking for God to ensure my bada dethei's
soul rests peacefully....I was thinking of calling someone in Cuttack
immediately but decided against it.....I was going to be of no use
absolutely to them.....and my phone call would be more of a nusianse
than anything.....

So many memories flooded into my mings....Bada Dethei....she ad been
named Lakshmi and had been true to her
name....Beautiful....Gentle...
Mild Mannered...Always Caring....Always
Smiling....Lovable....The one thing that always struck me about her
was that she might be mild mannered but she had a strong heart.....

My first memory of her is from way back when I myself was a couple of
years old and all of us cousins used to visit her place in Talcher and
she used to have these white rabbits....But the memories that can
actually be considered to be as memories were when Bada Dadei (my father's elder brother) got transfered to Cuttack and thier family
along with Bada Dethei came to live in the same house we lived
in......I had been the happiest soul when I heard they were coming to
live with us....the simple reason being we lived in the outskirts of
the then city and I had no friends as I was yet to join school.....I
would get someone to play with and someone to tell me stories
........Innocence at its best......Bada Dethei had the habit of
reading me stories from the magazine "Janhamamu" or "ChandaMama"

I am not a person who displays any love or affection for anyone, at
least not openly, but Bada Dethei had a special place in my heart. May
God rest her soul and give her immediate family all the strength to
tide over these bad times.

Friday, March 16, 2012

All Hail The King!!!


I remember a young strapping of a lad of 16, blood streaming from the nose, sprinkling the pristine white batting pads with  rivulets of red, and yet refusing to retire hurt – facing up to Imran Khan, Wasim Akram, Zakir Khan and Waqar Younis in his fourth test match. Coming in at 38 for four, he saves the match with a three  hour vigil at the wicket scoring 57....that is the first memory I can conjure up when I think of Sachin.......

I remember a 17 year old, an epitome of patience coming in at 110 for four, save India once again with defeat staring in the face, working  his way to the first of 99 international centuries at Old Trafford.

I remember him as an 18 year old, taking on the fiery Australian pace attack on a lighting quick Perth pitch, scoring what remains one of the most talked about hundreds Down Under even as bigger and older names fall like nine-pins all around him.

I remember him waging lone battles in lost causes. Each time coming in at next to nothing for two. The 122 in Birmingham 1996  The 136 which brought India from 6 for 2 to the doorstep of victory against a rampaging Akram, Waqar and Saqlain in the fourth innings at Chennai. The 169 in Johannesburg against Donald, Pollock, Klusener and MacMillan after taking guard at 25 for 3. The 116 at  Melbourne against McGrath , Gillespie and Brett Lee while the rest of a vaunted line up collapsed like a pack of cards.

For twenty years and more he has come in to bat with enormous expectations, seldom has there been a respectable score on the board and even now battling the odds after quick loss of wickets.

Through the amazing last few years, he has won an emotional Test Match against England with a fourth innings hundred chasing down a steep total on a turner. He has walked in to bat at 38 for 2 chasing 478 against Australia and has won the match with 214 and 53 not out. He has battled the pace of Dale Steyn to score two hundreds down in South Africa at the age of 37, each time coming into a boiling cauldron of heat and pressure.

I remember him winning the VB Series finals with  two scintillating demonstrations of batting, taking India to the final in the 2003 world cup with a calculated assault on Shoaib Akhtar that left all speechless except the bowler who now answers with a pen. And he achieved his goal of a World Cup win, topping the batting averages yet again, changing the match in the semi final, with a chancy yet colossally important 86.

Yet, why did people still voice their conviction that Sachin was not a match winner? That he crumbled under pressure? Even supposedly intelligent people with statistical education.

Why did people believe Lara has often won matches with second innings centuries and Sachin always failed in such situations when Sachin, according to data, outscores Lara and has 3 centuries in second essays of won matches to Lara’s 1.
What makes numerous people wallow in make-believe quagmire of their own where a man worshiped by cricket fans all over the world is brought down in his own land? I guess we are Indian's and can never tolerate another India's success and will always try to pull the legs of those who have achieved in life...


Recently I had a war of words with my boss after he said some rather unsavory remarks for Sachin Tendulkar....I got so pissed off with the guy that I nearly bit his head off.....and I know my appraisal this year is gonna be screwed up....precisely for this reason (just kidding)....But I do have some overly knowledgeable friends who at every chance they get...try to belittle the little master.....well not anymore....I have decided to answer to some of the plateful of crap people dish out in the name of Sachin......and here is my thundering response to the baseless retorts thrown by people....to slander the little master.....

All of his centuries result in India loosing matches....
Of course as a Tendlia fan...I disagree with this...Stats might differ from me on this...but give it a thought..he used to be the guy scoring more than half the runs when all the other Indian batsmen used to crash like a house of cards...He was the lone star who outshone...and he has won several matches for India..single handed....and to blame him for the matches India lost because he scored a century....is tantamount to saying...there is evil on earth because God created earth....I mean com'on guys...how can you blame him that he scored the century and as a result India lost....what were the other batsmen in the team for....clapping hands.....

He is hero worshiped and called GOD....
Is there a more crappy reason you can think of to taint the saint....oh!! yes he is the saint of cricket for me....especially if you know your history about sainthood...you would dare not disagree with me....We as Indians are taught from our very childhood to emulate or hero worship people....why else do you think people build temples for actresses in south India....why else do you think statues are built on every square of every road in India... Sachin never told he is God..it is we Indians who elevated him to that position....it is the media which solidified that platform for us....he never asked for it.....he was the sole engine who almost single handed propelled India in 3 world cups.....1996...2001....2004 and that is the reason he is hero worshiped....but i know..you have forgotten that.....

Cricket is a team game..why is Sachin hailed so much.....
Yeah!!! its a team game no doubt....with 11 players...at it....but hey...why do you have packed stadiums in the heat of Sharjaha...in the cold chill of Canada...in the cloud overhung skies of the West Indies....its because of one genius....Sachin Tendulkar. I know...dogs will still bark...and say this is no reason...let me counter it with another angle...there are 11 players...in the team...but frankly speaking there was only ONE match winner for India...and that was Sachin....he was the beacon who outshone all the others...and this happened day after day....month after month....year after year......what do you expect....Of course those not blind saw this...and those not retarded understood this....and hailed Sachin over all the others.....

He is selfish and all his records are his own....
Another shit load that people drop after every new record he bags.....I mean com'on guys...the guy scores runs for you...and continues playing year after year...of course the records set by the earlier generation Brits and Aussies are bound to fall to this marauder....He has bagged those records with aplomb and with modesty.....he has never ever said...I want to break so and so's record...the records have simply bitten dust under him....how the hell is it his fault...if he scores 200 runs in a one day match and creates a record....how the hell is it his fault that he scores the maximum number of centuries in both one-day and test matches....how the hell is it his fault....that he simply is classes above the rest...and plays equally well in India as he does abroad....

He plays only well in India and not abroad....
Oh is it? Do you mean Australia is overseas for Ponting , he had scored hundred and double Hundred against India in the current series on overseas pitch?. If Ricky (a Australian scores 100 in Australia it is a great thing for you guys ,But if Sachin an India scores hundred in India is a worst thing for you). How come dude?. Home ground is always an added advantage for any player or any person (for you also it applies) ... they score more on that than any others .. it is same for all go n see the stats of Ricky ...how many runs he scored in Australia and how many runs he scored outside Australia ... Australia won record number of matches in Australia not outside of Australia ....... On the other hand just google up the centuries of Sachin...and then you will find out..he is the one player..who has scored centuries against every cricket playing country in their own backyard.....Beat that!!!!

He plays for money and not for country......

The shit load..you people dish out....okies..here i go again....Sachin plays for money and not for country....tell me do you work for the country or for the money.....I mean the guy gets paid for the job he does...and you have a problem with that too....Stop wasting your time...reading this...and go work your bums off to earn your share of the money...and yes don't forget to crib that Sachin plays only for money......

He should have retired long time back and given opportunities to youngsters.....
They say wine tastes better with age...but that is for wine connoisseurs....not for good for nothings like you guys...who probably drink Grappo Fizz everyday in office and think that you just had wine....lolz....The guys scored a double ton a couple of years ago in a one day against SOUTH AFRICA....and you guys still suspect his fitness....hmm what can be said...ignorance is indeed bliss.....Sachin is still miles ahead of the youngsters in the current crop.....there have been many Johnny Come Lately who have come and gone...but Sachin has stayed on...maturing with age....there was the time....he was the original Boom Boom man...then he mellowed to become the batsman for long haul.....and today...he has adjusted his game to such an extent that he seems at ease be it the 5 day version or the wham bam good bye mam...20 over format....Why the hell should he retire...are you going to replace him in team India...highly unlikely....then shut the F- up and allow him to play.....

In the end...I rest my case....Judge Sahib..........after all they say never argue too much with FOOLS....because they drag you down to their pathetic standards and then defeat you.... ;-)


Friday, March 2, 2012

The Auto Rickshaw - A True Story


After a long time, I had the chance of returning back from office by Public Transport yesterday. I am not a big fan of Public Transport in India because for the obvious reasons....cramped seating....stinking sweat streaked bodies....people stomping your toes in disdain....... I have had a very hectic week this week and as usual was leaving office around 8:30 in the night yesterday. I had a thought I will take one of the new mini buss's plying their trade as public transport these days. By mini buss's I meant the breed of Tata Magic/Tata Ace/Mahindra....etc

I had never sat in one of them and their numbers had exponential grown over the past year to an extent that erstwhile auto stands have now been renamed as mini bus stands now all over Chennai. I walked to the nearest square near my office and started waiting for my transport. Almost immediately came a shared auto followed by a Tata Ace. I noticed that the shared auto had no occupants while the Ace was comparatively full. However everyone waiting on the road clambered for the Ace while the auto just stood there. The auto driver was crying himself hoarse, but no one cared to hear him. The Ace soon left with its belly full, leaving the road empty with just me, the tri-legged auto and the forlorn auto driver. 

The auto driver lit a beedi and just stared blankly ahead. He noticed me looking at him and gave me a big smile. I don't know how he realized I was not a fish of these parts but he said in broken hindi, "Saheb, Auto" I had been waiting for the next mini bus  to come up but what the heck, I was tired and it was a ride of barely 15 minutes to my home. I replied, "haan auto". The driver threw the half smoked beedi and had a triumphant smile on his face. I sat in the auto and the auto tuk tuk'd away, but not before the driver switched on the FM radio blasting the Kolaveridi song. I was curious as this was the first time, I had heard an auto driver speak in hindi in Chennai. I asked him how he spoke hindi...Pat came the reply, so many outsiders are living in Chennai, we are bound to learn the language now....I smiled at his honest endeavor to learn hindi...
The auto driver turned the volume low and said, "Saheb, mera naam Balu aur ek baat bolun"...I said, "Haan bhaiya"...Here begins my story...

With a hint of sadness in his voice, the man named Balu said, "No one sits in my auto now"... I did not understand him and looked at him quizzically. He continued, "Now everyone sits in the mini busses and no one looks at us autos rickshaws. I hate these mini buss's. We had thought they would not be popular with passengers and auto rickshaws would still rule the roost as we had done over the last 20 years. But it did not work out, that way; Lord Muruga had a different plan". After this, I heard him sob. I was feeling uncomfortable, looking at this middle aged man sobbing. I simply could not understand what I should say to my new friend, Balu. Fortunately for me, Balu, stopped sobbing and continued, "I used to ride a rented rickshaw for the last 12 years and finally saved enough money to pay for the down payment  of my own rickshaw, by the grace of Lord Muruga. I was so happy, now I need not pay all my hard earned money as rent to the auto rickshaw owner. My daughters would go to school too, like the group of kindergarten girls I transported every day to school from T. Nagar. I would pay off the loan for my auto rickshaw in another 4 years, and then the auto will be completely mine. I earned good money, in the initial years, then last year the mini busses came prowling on the roads. I used to make fun at those four legged mini buss's. Then one day, the parents of the little girls I transported every day, came up to me and said, that the auto rickshaw is not safe and they would prefer their little ones go by the little mini bus." Balu felt aghast. How could they say it was unsafe? "But, Thambi, I ride very slowly as I care about the little children. My auto rickshaw is very safe", pleaded Balu. All his cries fell on deaf ears. One of the little girls who was with the parents came up to Balu and said to him, "Balu, why don't you buy a mini bus, we will go with you to school then". Balu felt offended, even the little ones felt that his auto was no longer safe. Nursing a heavy heart, Balu returned home that day.
Balu, stopped taking his auto out for the next couple of days, and just whilled away his time at home. He was feeling a sense of anger, towards everyone. Then after two full days, reality dawned on him, when his wife said, there was no money for vegetables at home. That night, Balu felt guilty as he was felt he was cheating on his own family by not driving his auto rickshaw. Sleep eluded him the whole night and well past the witching hour, he tossed and turned on the bed until he got an idea. The sleep which had been playing hide and seek finally returned and he slept pondering over his plan.

The next day, Balu woke up and made a beeline to the local moneylender’s home. Yes, in Chennai, you have moneylenders and mortgage shops in each and every corner of the city. Balu, without telling his family, took a loan of Rs. 10,000. Although feeling apprehensive because of the exorbitant rates of interest, he felt confident that he would be able to pay back the loan in another 6 months.

Balu took his dear auto rickshaw to the pond nearby his house and cleaned his auto in the same way a mahout bathes his elephant, because just like an elephant is like a child to its mahout, the auto was to Balu. After cleaning his auto, he went to an auto garage as per his plan. He decided to purchase new foam lined seats along with new flowered seat covers so that his passengers would not feel the hardness of the seat. He spent money on a stereo system, so that his passengers would be able to listen to songs while being transported. He ordered for a new coat of bright yellow paint for his auto. He splurged on mirrors so that lady passengers would be able to comb their hairs while travelling in his auto. After spending all of the 10,000 bucks he had got from the moneylender, he felt happy. He thought he had hit on a master stroke, his auto rickshaw looked brand new, comfortable and inviting. Let me see, how the mini buss's lure away my passengers now, that’s what he thought.
A week passed before the garage called him to take possession of his now new auto rickshaw.  Balu felt proud as he saw his friends at the auto stand near the local railway station gape at his canary colored, shining auto. How beautiful his auto must be looking to the eyes of the beholders. Balu acted nonchalant with his friends as all of them waited for the first train of the day to arrive at the local railway station. The train came chugging along and out came from the stations belly a swarm of people heading towards their offices and their chores. Balu and his auto rickshaw driver friends called out eagerly, expectantly, to the passengers, but they seemed to be not hearing their words. The passengers all walked to the mini bus stand and got into the mini busses.

Balu stood in a stunned silence. His beautiful canary colored auto was standing there, empty.

Now 6 months have passed, and Balu is taking me home from office.  The money lender is after him for the unpaid money he owes. The bank has sent him a notice that they will take away the auto rickshaw. The school has kicked out his daughters for non-payment of school fees. The night is closing out fast and he has earned barely enough to sustain his family for another day. He is silent after telling me all this. The silence is pierced as my mobile rings and Green Day shrieks, “Boulevard of Broken Dreams”

This is a true story which happened to me late last night

Friday, January 20, 2012

Men Are Like…


This post is dedicated to all my guy friends as well as girl friends.....The English Dictionary describes Men as ADULT HUMAN MALE.......but ever since poor Adam tricked Eve into eating the apple with the help of the slithering snake...WOMEN have devised different words to describe us poor men.....here is a collection of these descriptions.....

Have fun reading this one...


Men Are Like… Mascara.....They usually run at the first sign of emotion.

Men are like..... Commercials......You can't believe a word they say. 
Men are like..... Computers......Hard to figure out and never have enough memory. 
Men are like..... Coolers......Load them with beer and you can take them anywhere (Dedicated to my BEER BUDDIES :) )
Men are like..... Mini skirts.....If you're not careful, they'll creep up your legs.

Men are like…..Government Bonds. They take so long to mature!

Men are like…..Parking Spots....... The good ones are taken!

Men are like… Horoscopes.... They always tell you what to do and are usually wrong!





QUICKFIRE KBC Style:


Q - Why do men want to marry virgins?
A - They can’t stand criticism. 


Q - What’s the fastest way to a man’s heart?
A - Through his chest with a sharp knife.


Q - What are two reasons why men don’t mind their own business?

A - 1. No mind. 2. No business.


Q - How do men sort their laundry?
A - “Filthy” and “Filthy but Wearable”


Q - Why don’t men have mid-life crises?
A - They stay stuck in adolescence!


Q - What makes men chase women they have no intention of marrying?
A - The same urge that makes dogs chase cars, they have no intention of driving!


Q - Why do bachelors like smart women?
A - Opposites attract.


Q - Why do men find it difficult to make eye contact?
A - Breasts don’t have eyes. :)  

But whatever you say.....Men can't live without their Women...and surprise surprise....Women can't live without their Men too.....