That Greek God... Part 1

I parked my car mechanically in the usual space and shuffled out dejectedly. It had been quite a long day and all I wanted to do was just flop on my bed face down and sleep the whole thing off. I walked into my apartment complex and pressed on the button, beckoning the elevator down. Half way through, it emitted a horrible wrenching noise and suddenly stood still in the shaft. I peeped in through the collapsible gates and groaned aloud. No… this can’t be happening to me. Five whole floors… OMG, I might as well die right here. Do I really have to go home? Gathering the last of my failing strength I dared to climb up one floor. By the time I reached the front door of my flat, I was gasping and wheezing as if tuberculosis decided to have its way with me in the final stage after all. I reached for the calling bell and didn’t take my finger off it till its incessant peal brought a very angry Amma out.

“Couldn’t you be a bit more patient? Don’t you have any sense at all?” she bit out irritated. I walked past her without answering and kicked my shoes aside. Marching determinedly into the living room, I threw my bag and dupatta on the couch and slumped down beside them. The TV stared back sourly at me and scowling, I switched it off with the remote control. Paati had sauntered into the room by then and set the evening on fire.

“Yen di, ipdi dhaam dhoom nnu guthichindu irukkai? Naalaiki maapillai veetukku pona enna pannuvai?” (Why're you jumpin' up and down like this? What'll you do when you get to your husband's place tomo?)

“Phew, Theriyadhu Paati. Neengo konjam chumma irungo.” (I don't know. Please don't tell me anything right now)

I halted for a minute; the whole thing sounded maniacally hilarious and I burst into high-pitched laughter.

“Sutham. Leela, avalukku konjam coffee kudu. Paithyam thaan pidichirkku unnoda ponnukku.” (Leela, your daughter's gone mad. Give her some coffee)

Amma gave me a thoroughly disgusted look and walked off to the kitchen. I leaned back and settled comfortably in the couch. Switching the TV on, I resorted to my usual stance- flicking through the channels. Up and down…up and down… up and down... I yawned hugely and the startled hippopotamus on National Geographic gawked back. Amma pushed the coffee mug under my nose and I took it from her gingerly and switched the TV off. The breeze from the terrace was soothing in its wake and I decided to sit under the trellis for some time. I sipped slowly from the mug and stared unseeingly past the parapet wall. The person on the terrace of the next block kept pacing the length of it, with a palm attached to his ear. My brain dimly registered and assimilated the fact that he was probably speaking on his mobile phone. Suddenly, I got up with a jerk. No person was allowed to speak on a mobile phone on that terrace. I shook my head and clicked my tongue. No person was even allowed to be on that terrace. The flat opposite was supposed to be empty because its owners were abroad.

I squinted through the darkness to grasp as much detail as possible of the trespasser and then huffed back into my living room.

“Ammmmmaaa… Amma… come fast,” I hollered above the Endaro Mahanubhavulu playing in the BG on the music system.

“Yenna aachu di? Edhukku ipdi katthare? (What happened? Why're you yelling like this?)” she retorted, annoyed. Paati looked up from the Ananda Vikatan that she was reading.

“Amma, Paati, both of you… I have to tell you something. There’s someone walking on the terrace in the flat across ours,” I finished hurriedly, expecting Amma to scream and Paati to faint. They gaped back, clearly not knowing how to react. Must be shock, I reasoned and I repeated my discovery again. I was literally jumping up and down with sheer adrenaline pumping through my veins. I imagined the police entering the apartment complex in several large vans, ganging up the entire force against that brazen intruder. I frowned a bit at the image of a Bullet Pushpa, a Dubai Kanchana, and a Revolver Rita gazing back at me, ready to be synonymous with my name. Maybe, I’m better off imagining just one police car. Shouldn’t that be enough? I pulled my mind back to address the current situation.

“Amma, konjam react pannu, please, (Mom, please react..)” I begged her and looked at Paati helplessly.

The bell rang suddenly and shook both of them out of their reverie. I let them answer the door and wandered back to the terrace to see if he was still lurking there. There was no one to be seen and the terrace opposite, wore nothing but an enigmatic silence. He must have gone inside. I think I should call Vidya. Her neighbor is the S.I at E 1 police station. He will know what to do...

I heard voices from the living room and stilled. I listened quietly and could hear a male voice answering Paati’s questions patiently.

“Amaam Paati, ippo dhaan vandhen. Athai athimber innum California la thaan irukka." (Yes Grandmother, I came jus' now. My aunt and uncle are still in California)

“Appo thaniya irundhu samaichika poriya? Parava illiye.” (Oh, so you're going to cook alone is it? That's impressive) (That was Amma, by the way)

His strong, measured voice was somehow familiar. I couldn’t trace it. I walked back into the hall and crossed over to the doorway. I got the shock of my life.

“Oh Anu, vandhuttiya. Karthik, meet my daughter Anuradha. She’s just finished college.”

Karthik smiled at me and I managed to curl my tight jaw muscles. It was Karthik, the RJ at Radio Mirchi!!

Mirchi Karthik… mirchi Karthik… oooh… Hot Karthik!!

Phew…

“Hi Anu. How’re you doing?” he said genially.

I promptly fainted…

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to be cont...

If Looks Could Kill

When you perceive somebody’s attention on you out of the corner of your eyes, you have the liberty to think that the person is actually staring at you. So what do you do? You can clear your throat and stall for some time before mustering up the courage to ask the person whether he has any problem. But what if you don’t have the nerve to do it? You can’t just sit there and bear the brunt of it, can you? You start thinking about the various reasons the person has to stare at you. If the person belongs to the same sex, you take enough time to run your fingers through your hair for your own satisfaction. Then you look carefully to see if the person is still staring at you. OMG! The person can’t still be gawking at you like that. Well… There must be another reason. You continue to think, pushing the other imperative things to the back of your mind. Why is this person looking at me like this? You squirm in your seat uncomfortably (you fidget even if you are standing) and turn your head the other way helplessly.

It is one of the most possible things in life that the person is looking right through you. You pray sincerely that that might be the reason and peep at the “object of enigmatic perception” and you could have sworn that the person actually smiled at you. The clock shows fifteen minutes past the time when you first realized the person’s ardent worship of your face. Fifteen minutes and you still haven’t come up with any ideas as to why the nut looks at you like you have suddenly sprouted horns on your head. You touch your head anyway to dissolve your not-so-stupid doubt. Interesting! The person has a very very good reason to still stare at you. Probably, you look like the person’s late grandparent. Enough is enough! You religiously ignore the person for the next five minutes and then turn your head to check… Gosh! This is it! You have gathered enough courage and proof to question the person!!! You close in the few yards between the person and you and…you start…

Be direct and precise. Don’t give the person any time to think. Present your arguments and just flee the scene. You open your mouth, but the person wins the mental battle. “You have something on your nose and for the past fifteen minutes I had been contemplating on how to tell you….” Alright alright…It’s not as if the whole world caved in on you……

Okay!! Let us rewind the entire situation. We will start right from the part when you actually perceive somebody’s attention on you. And you notice that the person is of the opposite sex. Your face twists into an expression of curiosity. You start your typical job. You pat your hair, but you make sure that it makes you look even more amicable than you already are. You put on an alluring look on your face and smile as you go about your work. (All the above allegations depend upon the type of personality, your aficionado has.) You gape back at the person so that even the asinine of people can make out that, you are actually ogling at the person (well, in a subtle way?). Whoa! The person’s scrutiny is giving you a chill down your spine. Yeah baby! You have enough acumen in you to decipher the fact that, you belong to a breed of specially created homo sapiens whom the rest of the intimates call “good looking”. But such a finely tuned gaze is almost driving you crazy with a special power, which you have never felt before (provided you are not a narcissist). You shift, irrespective of your posture and continue your not-so-blatant actions. Finally you start to do what our fore fathers did thousands of years ago- thinking! Why is this person staring at me like this? You badly wish for a mirror to check if everything about you is pristine……

You are dying to know the reason behind this unusual portrayal of undisguised interest. You turn away and try to get absorbed into your work. But the person’s expression of honest adulation (hey, it’s as you perceive it to be!) keeps your already blistering gray cells all the more occupied and you seem to have lost interest for anything else in life. Suddenly the driving force of your life seems to lie in that arcane reason for the gaze. You close your eyes for a moment and when you open them, you are staring right into the most beautiful pair of eyes you have ever seen in your entire imperceptible life. Intuition tells you to take the reins of the much-anticipated conversation. But the person beats you to it… (Isn’t there a vague repetition of history somewhere?) “There is something on your nose. I had been ruminating on how to reach you…”

CUTTTT!!!

Zodiac Si(g)ns

I'm a Piscean (if I can be called that). And that is by virtue of my birth date. But am I really one? “Really One”, a phrase denoting the assumption of a Pisces prototype. My iGoogle homepage carries a “Horoscope for today” label followed by a small paragraph that smugly predicts my future for the day. As is my case, I read it at the end of the day when I finally have time to check my mail. Rather than looking forward to seeing the synching of the prediction with my sphere, I end up reminiscing my day to tally it with the forecast.
A classic horoscope prediction would try very hard to protect you with a, “Your cosmic energies are too low to levitate you to the physical world and therefore it’s better that…” But I’d prefer to continue it with, “…you stay in bed the whole day to humour your laziness.”
I have been following the zodiac signs and their predictions for a million years now. Career, friends, love, relationships, compatibility and so many other adjectives add their value to the basic prediction.
Do these twelve zodiac signs actually stand testimony to the fact that there are only twelve different kinds of people in this whole world? Are you different? Or do you really think your zodiac sign defines you precisely?

Why roads in Chennai need no speed breakers!!

Swoooosh…speed limit exceeding 50kmph, 60kmph, 70… 80…the wind wailing like a tremendous tempest of unimaginable magnitude…and then WHAM!!! Oops!! A speed breaker!!! Was it really a speed breaker??? Whatever it was, the motorcyclist would never dare to try that stunt out again, at least not in Chennai!!

A walk on a footpath (if there were any) in Chennai would be any enlightening experience for a first timer. The roads stretching out, from the edge of the footpath till the place where it is punctuated by potholes, drainage pipes, manholes, huge pits etc etc (the things mentioned above being a few inches from the footpath). Surely, the walk would be nothing less than a macabre experience for a first timer (surely, they could be warned!!). The work (drilling the “roads”) starts at about 4:00 am in the morning. The work is meticulous, careful and planned. They make sure that, the noise is enough to get the late risers out of their beds and start their morning walk. Have you ever seen people who can be more thoughtful?? The work is always the same. They also have a rhythmic touch, in order, to make the whole thing more enjoyable. A drill, a pause, a drill, a pause, a drill….

At about eight am, they take a break. Heaven!! The work is again resumed in an hour. The real traffic starts at about 10:00 am. But, the masters of the road never stop their work. They are the most hardworking people you can ever meet. By evening 6:00 pm, one might think they are tired. But no!! They have to start the welding work. The pipes would then be lowered down into the colossal pits and then closed again.

The peers of the realm would then retire for the day. Just as the work is at its peak (the amount of mud excavated also at its zenith), a reporter from a readable newspaper or magazine would take a snap of the whole process and then, publish it with a caption saying “ Workers, take the roads for granted. The above photograph shows the blah blah road”. The people responsible (not the workers, certainly) would immediately, hush up the matter, with huge cans of tar and black acrid smoke (of course, they want to lay roads)!! The preposterously marvelous road roller would roll on the “new road” and thus, a new road is born.

But the relief of a new road is short-lived. Three months pass by, and workers start their routine digging to lay down telephone lines. The whole process is repeated and they dig the roads again for laying down storm water drains (isn’t there a water scarcity in Chennai??). The roads are laid down again and again. The blatant incapability of the people responsible is transparent and thanks to them, the hospitals run on the medical bills of emergency cases. (As for that motorcyclist, he adapted himself to Chennai roads….)!!!