My Auto Stories…

Another one of those days when the driver of the auto rickshaw I traveled in felt compelled to dole out some advice to me.

It’s been a consistent event in my life. Ever so often I end up taking a rick/auto, whose driver has something to tell me or teach me or even lecture me on. I have been scolded, taught, made to wonder, laugh, and fear and amused at many of those who took me on a ride.

Some have let me off, without taking a penny in return (has happened only in DELHI and they were extremely well meaning old men) while others have haggled and been cursed by me in turn.

I distinctly this one man who drove me from Connaught Place to Munirka and on learning that I was a student at JNU, he spoke with perfect clarity about the UN and told me to get a job with the UN and do India proud. He was the first auto driver to turn down his fare.

Others have spoken to me in well-structured English, despite being clad in monstrous smelly clothes.

Some have made me violent beyond comparison and I have walked away cursing them like no other and invoking the gods to cause a road accident.

I remember the night I was travelling with a group of friends by bus, and we had reached Hyderabad and were to board a connecting train. It was 4 am and just outside the railway station, autos were queued up all playing songs from Rajni starrer Baasha at full blast.

Another time, the driver proudly spoke to me about his sons, both of whom were pursuing professional degrees with full scholarships and were the top scorers in their respective colleges. For a man who had run away from a village with a dream of making it big, he was now living his dreams through them. Unable to mouth English, he was drawing up plans to send his eldest son to the US.

One good man actually saved me from some stupid bike-rider who was tailing me insistently. The rick guy not just lost the bike’s tail, but also escorted me to a cop, placed a complaint and dropped me off, for not a penny more than what we had agreed on, though we had traveled double the distance. He even offered to pick me up the next day!!!

My memories of winters spent in Delhi are incomplete without autos. Many a time I have taken refuge in autos when the cold was biting and I had left home with a flimsy shawl to fan my vanity. Those rides, clinging to myself, covered from head to toe in a shawl, staring out at the lights and waiting to reach the warmth of my rajai were wonderful.

I have often wondered what possessed those men driving me around to turn to me and speak like they had been dared to bare their souls. What made them feel this cranky girl, either lighting a cigarette or trying hard to keep her teeth from chattering could do with some sensible talk? Many have taught me things. Many inspired me to write stories. Many sparked off hatred. But they have all been filled with learnings of all sorts.

Most of the men who chatted on while I sat in the back watching miles and buildings pass by were honest souls. But they form the small minority of those I bumped into. And surprisingly as I look back and recount my experiences, I realise the honest ones were all in Delhi, while the crudest ones were in Chennai and the ones with the most horrid attitudes in Bangalore. Some of the most learned though I have come across only in Kerala.

I can’t wait for my next ride…

My Little Brother

Sibling relationships outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, and resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust. To the outside world we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time.

I don’t remember my first memory of Rahul. Though I do remember being responsible for him since the day he was born. People tell me, I was in love with my kid brother since the day he was born and was protective of him since then. I still am madly & fiercely protective about him.

My oldest memories of him are when he as a newborn would sleep with his butt high up in the air, when they shaved off his curly locks, when we used to play with little insects we had named lady birds.

Of playing in Chennai, amma taking both of us to Bambino Kindergarten, when he would wait patiently to know if his sister had beaten everyone in class in dictation, when both of us were photographed as the best dressed kids by some newspaper photographer. When he once during a game, threw his toy gun at me and I got hurt. The times when we overturned chairs to become horses and dragged them around the house, screeching to a halt only when our landlord from downstairs came running up hurling abuses. And how amma tied the chairs to the windowsill and how we despite that sat and pretended that we were trotting on our ponies.

I remember those days when Amma walked Rahul and me to the bus stop in Kollam. And then just when he realised the van was fast approaching, he would burst into tears and sob so hard, amma wouldn’t have the heart to let him go. Then with me pulling from inside and amma pushing from outside Rahul would hang onto the van. Finally amma would succeed in pushing him in, wherein she would catch an auto and follow us to school. Or else she would pull him out with helplessness as he smiled and hugged her as if it was only in her arms that he would feel safe ever.

Then there were the sessions where he would run out of Wendy Miss’ class. And I would follow him around and catch him and deposit him there and head to my own, a tad late. Or the times amma patiently sat outside his classroom so that each time he looked out he would see her and be comforted. Then those days when the principal finally not able to hit upon a solution, decided to coach him herself and he would pompously sit in one of her chairs and she took private lessons and I went down in every break to feed him and look on him. And how he named me “kutti amma” because I took care of him while amma was not around.

So many places and phases we share. So many memories.

Wondrous moments. Treasured for life. Mightily forgotten by my absent-minded younger brother.

For the first time in our lives, we are in separate continents. And I miss him sorely.

I sought my soul, but my soul I could not see. I sought my God, but my God eluded me. I sought my brother and I found all three.

Yearly Review.

Rain…. like zillions of people I love the smell of freshly wet soil. As if its been reborn and given another chance.

But that’s not why I am writing.

A year in Bangalore and I am still slightly clueless as to what prompted me to come to this crazed city.

Career is going on fine, if we were to ignore the idiotic politics that governs it. But then this place has survived 150 years and if it hadn’t been for these wheeler-dealers would it have lasted this long??? Guess underhand and behind the back dealings are the stepping-stones to success and longevity.

Friends…. not an absolute blank. Hardly half a dozen but who’s complaining? Then again, the frivolity of those Delhi days has passed me by. But I sorely miss those drinking sessions followed by dancing and then eating out in the middle of the night, hitching a ride back home…. Surprise element…am suddenly in touch with people from my earlier innocent days in Kerala. Nice to relive a childhood phase in bits.

Family…. well we seem to be seeing more of them given the proximity and it hasn’t been so bad. And I could play mommy to my brother all over again, after our childhood years. And him I will miss acutely when he moves to foreign shores.

Life…it has its moments…. of quiet love, of tumultuous fights, of sweet nothings, of long drives, of ice creams from a roadside van….

So all in all…. a 6/10.

Forever Young???

I yearn to be carefree again.
Those years of sheer abandon, when everything seemed conquerable and attractive.
Times when you could go on without food or sleep, the sheer thrill of the experience filling you up with the necessary stamina and energy.
Those moments when you seemed to have the blessings of the stars in everything you undertook.
Those fleeting glances, of furtive pleasure, and implied interest.
Those smiles beckoning strangers to share a thought and some words, maybe random moments and desires.
Those winks that were meant to wound and tease.
Those sniggers aimed at everyone who crossed you.
Those walks, staring at every fallen leaf, wondering about its life, wanting to stand and stare as humanity passed you by in a random shuffle to gain something more, make another buck, prove a point.
I long for those nights, when the sheer darkness made me want to walk in the middle of the road, or sit by its side, chatting away even as the first rays of light whitened the rock I sat upon.
I long for those winter mornings, when cuddling warmly in my blanket, and watching the chilly breeze outside my window, I lazed in bed, nodding off into sleep at every alternate moment.
I long for those walks in the rain, and the freezing chat beside the tea shop, clinging to your hot cup while the clothes and hair dripped and when a cold seems the smallest price to pay for a evening of fun.
Those afternoons when I walked back for lunch, and the whole world seemed to be fast asleep and the sun shone for me.
So many wonderful moments…
What I would give to have them back…
To live them once more,
In a more indulgent and memorable fashion!
I long to be young all over again.

BLOCK US OUT!!!

The conspiracy to shut us off from the world is gaining in strength as each day passes by. Its funny even as the world is trying hard to become part of the social networking bandwagon and global leaders are talking about breaking down boundaries to finally have a seamless global village, my company is now downing another nail on our lives. We who have been reduced to dependency on Indiatimes (HAR HAR) and Gmail for our communication needs are now being taken off the Google network also to ensure our productivity is enhanced.

Journalism I thought was all about keeping in touch and talking to multitudes of people continuously to get information. But looks like we are supposed to sit in our little corners or then spend money in inane coffee shops and on travel to get our information while TV channels score by merely thrusting a mike in the middle.

What really are these people trying to prove? The more they cut us off, the more time we will spend trying to physically catch up with people and the more our time in office is reduced and the less productive and efficient we are. How much of knowledge of astro physics was necessary to make out those connections?

The BOSS

It was with sheer pleasure that I exited from the theatre after watching Sivaji. I have always pictured watching a Rajni flick in Chennai amidst rows of fans who hooted, clapped and mouthed dialogues of the superstar. But am yet to sit through such an exhilarating experience. Anyhow some of the memorable lines from the flick demand that they be repeated and shared.

Here are some I could remember…


Sachin adicha sixer, indha Shivaji adicha stretcher
Naan nenacha athu nadantha mathiri, naan nadantha athu jeyicha mathiri
Naan 1 centimeter dhooratthukku nallavan, aanal 20 kilometer distancekku kettavan
Kanna andha sivajikku nadikka mattum thaan theriyum, indha sivajiku nadikkavum theriyum adikkavum theriyum
Kannaa, sirikkaama PM aga iruntharu antha Narasimha Rao, ( late PM of India ) aana sirichukitte pattaiyai kilappurathu intha Shivaji Rao
Naan nallavanukku sami, Nayavanjaganukku Tsunami
Kanna, vittukoduthavan ennaikum kettathillai, kettavan ennaikkum vittukoduthathillai
Solli adikiravan veeran, sollama adikiravan kozhai, naan sollavum maatten, adikkavum maaten… aana konnuduven
Nallavanukku naan DHARMAN Kettvanukku naan YEMA dharman da
Pongal choice Karumbu, intha Shivaji choice Kurumbu
sivaji nenacha sona mathiri, sonna mudincha mathiri
annikku solrathuthaan innikkum, innikku solrathuthaan ennaikkum
sollaama vantha TSUNAMI, solli vantha SHIVAJI
Singathe konja mudiyathu…Sivajiya minja mudiyathu…
paambe patha padaye nadungum, indha Sivajiya pathe pambe nadungum!
Six kke apuram 7nda, shivajikappuram yevenda?
"Panni ellam kootam kootamaaa thaaan varum…annaa SINGAM SINGLE aaathaaaan varum