That Greek God... Part 3

Come Sunday morning and I woke up to the faint whirr of the vacuum cleaner in the next room. I groaned and snuggled further into my pillow trying to catch on to the last fragments of the wonderful dream that I was having. So where was I… Ummm… yeah… I am the new RJ with Radio Mirchi and I’m going on air with RJ Karthik on Mirchi Duet…

“And our first caller is… Hello… Welcome to Mirchi Duet, yaaru pesareenga??" (May I know who this is??)

“It’s Jahnavi. Hey Anu, I just wanted to check if everything’s okay. Paati is listening to your programme as well. She wanted to speak to you. Just a sec…”

I look around nervously trying to figure out what is going to happen.

“Anu…Naan Paati pesaren. Kekardha?” (Anu, it’s granny here. Are you able to hear me?)

“Paati??” This can’t be happening to me. OH NO… Noooooooo…

“Seri kelu. Kaarthaale Swami ya vendindu po sonnene, vendindiya? Seri adhu irukattum, saayangaalam nee varache, Bhagyam aathukku poittu va. Kolu kku Bhakshanam panrathukku oru maami irukkalaam. Avaaloda phone number vaangindu va. Bhagyam aathula phone repair aam…” (Okay listen, I told you to pray to God before leaving home in the morning. Did you do that? Leave that. While you come back in the evening, stop by in Bhagyam’s place. It seems there’s an Iyer lady who cooks wonderful sweets and savouries for Navrathri. Get her phone number. Bhagyam’s phone is under repair)

“Paati, naan apram pesaren. Neengo phone vechidungo please.” (Gran, I will talk to you later. Please hang up)

“Apram, unnoda manager kitta solli oru TV camera pakathulla vechikko. Radio Potti lerndhu unnoda koral kekka ennamo maadhri irukku. Technology dhaan valandhuduthey. Unna TV la paarthu, nee pesardhu kekkalaam illiya…?” (And, one more thing, ask your manager to fix a TV camera next to you. I find it very weird to hear just your voice from a Radio Dabba. Technology’s improved a lot, hasn’t it? I can see you on TV and hear you talk then.)

I’m panic-struck and I turn around to see Karthik laughing his head off. The entire radio station is hooting with laughter around me. I repeatedly punch on the caller-off button and to my chagrin, it refuses to listen to me. I can hear a vacuum cleaner behind me and it is almost swallowing me up…OMG… wait… Help!!

I came around screaming when Appa ran the long lever of the vacuum cleaner right next to my ear.

“Appa! What are you doing? Why are you vacuuming me?” I shrieked, quite shaken and affronted. Come on, I take a shower everyday and am cleaner than the antique vacuum cleaner itself.

“Anything that’s still in bed after 10 AM in the morning requires to be vacuumed. The owner’s manual says so.” Appa replied calmly.

“It’s Sunday!!” I protested.

“Should that make a difference? You seem to sleep-in every day of the week.” And with that, he thrust the lever towards me again and geared me into action.

I grumbled as I got out of bed and made a beeline for the bathroom. Thankfully, by the time I came out, Appa had already completed his impromptu spring-cleaning. The vacuum cleaner, I saw, was back safely on its repositorical pedestal. Jahnavi was watching TV and I flopped down next to her on the couch. An emotional basket case of a girl was bawling her eyes out and explaining her pathetic situation to the rest of the inmates in a repeat episode of Roadies on MTV.

“Is there nothing else on TV today?” I enquired. I wondered how long Anekta Kapoor would wait before roping in the girl for one of her K-serials.

“Nope. It’s Sunday morning. What do you expect?” Jahnavi returned dryly.

Before I could reply, Appa came and sat down next to us. He seemed happy, ecstatic in fact. And then I came to know why.

“It’s India-Australia cricket match today. A day and night one.” he announced, crashing all my hopes of a blissful Sunday. Jahnavi cuffed her forehead in a melodramatic gesture and boy, was I glad that I had my ally back. I knew how the rest of the day was going to be.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“….Sixxx! Superrrr!!” Paati screamed and exchanged an excited post-hit dialogue with Appa.
I woke up startled from my light snooze and looked around feeling slightly disoriented. I could hear Paati chattering away animatedly in the living room.

“…indha Dhoni Paiyyan romba nanna velaiyadrane. Ahaa… Innoru Sixxxx…(This Dhoni boy is playing so well. Ahaa…one more sixxx..)” Paati yelled and started clapping her hands in pure glee. Jahnavi looked up from her book and rolled her eyes in an exaggerated chic.

“I know. Paati kku whistle mattum thaan innum adikka theriyalai. (The only thing that gran doesn’t know yet is how to whistle)” I commented wryly.

Jahnavi burst into fits of giggles.
Paati is an anomaly in the complete sense of the word. I hope The Hindu gets notified through this blog that Paati is an ardent worshipper of their newspaper and reads it end to end, including all the supplements in her zealous venture. And I further hope that The Hindu doesn’t get offended the way Appa gets, when he ultimately finds the newspaper as a Pakoda Pottalam in the evening, due to undergoing severe treatment of getting folded in innumerable directions and being tucked in various places as she goes about cooking, reading, walking, sleeping through the day. When the other peers of the realm talk about attending Bhagavad Gita discourses, Paati would want to watch a live cricket match. Paati would probably know more about RmKV and Pothys collection of sarees than the poor weavers themselves.

“You wouldn’t believe it. Paati’s much better than Zoom channel. The other day, she’s like, 'Jahnavi, unnakku theriyuma, indha Kareena Kapoor- Saif Ali Khan kum edho problems aam. Rendu perukkum othu poradhillayaam. Avalukku andha Christian paiyyan dhaan pudichirkkam. Yaaru…aah, John Abraham.' (Jahnavi, did you know that Kareena and Shahid are having problems in their relationship? It seems, she likes another guy now. That Christian boy… John Abraham)” Jahnavi said, all wide-eyed.

“Kareena and Saif are breaking up? I never knew that” I said, pretty surprised.

“See? I told you. Paati’s a unique piece.” she retorted with a cheeky grin.

We suddenly heard a faint tinkle of laughter from outside the window. We both looked out and our vision zoomed in on the terrace opposite. Karthik was leaning on the parapet wall with his back to us and there was a woman next to him. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. Who is this girl? And why is she talking to Karthik?

“Enna Anu, unnoda love story la, ippove oru Villi vandhurkka pole irukke. (Anu, looks like you're having a villi in your love story already.)” Jahnavi said mischievously.

“Cha, No way! She might be just a casual friend. Why do you have to take it to the extreme sense?” I snapped vehemently. I was already feeling faintly agitated and Jahnavi’s comment added fuel to fire.

“All I can say is that, he is in the media field. And you have to be careful.” she said, adding an ominous zing to her statement with a knowledgeable look.

“Wait a minute. Do you know something that I don’t?”

The woman next to Karthik chose that moment to laugh loudly. Our attention riveted to her as she turned around and I could see her face clearly. I identified her immediately.

Vichitra Somamurthy, founder of and an artist with an independent theatre group called Sarvam.

Sarvam Vichitra and Mirchi Karthik.... Sarvam and Mirchi… Vichi and Karthik…. Alarm bells clashed and banged in my mind, ricocheting the vibrations in a zillion directions.
I had a horrible feeling of history repeating itself.
OMG… Not again… nooooooo…

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
to be cont...

That Greek God... Part 2

“Hellooooo Chennai, ellarukkum ennoda Kaalai vanakkam, Good Morning, Shubhodhyam, Shubha Munjane, Suprabhaatham, Sat Sri Akal….Salaaaam Namaste!! Indha cosmopolitan good morning wishes kku pinnadi oru periya flash back iruku. Inikki Radio Mirchi oda 4^th Anniversary Celebration. Unga ellaroda anbum aadharavum annnndd non-stop Chennai Hotness dhaan indha Radio Mirchi kku masala ve. Indha sandoshamana nerathulla, unga kitta naan sila vishayangal share pannikanum nnu virumbaren. Aana adhukku munnadi, neenga indha song kettu enjoy pannunga. Oru beautiful day, oru amazing morning, oru semmayana song….Stay tuned to Radio Mirchi…Idhu semma hot machi…”… and RJ Karthik’s voice faded off to allow the strings of A R Rehman’s Fanaa into the speakers. ("Hellooooo Chennai, a very good morning to all of you, Shubhodhyam, Shubha Munjane, Suprabhaatham, Sat Sri Akal... See More….Salaaaam Namaste!! There’s quite a flashback behind these cosmopolitan wishes. Today’s Radio Mirchi’s 4th Anniversary Celebration. Your love, support annnnd the non-stop Chennai Hotness have always been an extra masala to Radio Mirchi. I would like to share something with all of you on this happy occasion. But before that, I would like you to listen to this song. A beautiful day… An amazing morning… an awesome song….Stay tuned to Radio Mirchi.. It’s Hot!!....")

“Arrrrrrrgghh!!, Switch that damn thing off right now!” Jahnavi bellowed like a wounded buffalo. In her sleep-driven haziness, her aim traced a perfect trajectory (which is otherwise pretty impossible) and the pillow projectiled onto the music system, shaking its very foundation and landed next to my feet.

“Oh, shut up!” I growled and pulled the plug off. That sister of mine had to ruin everything for me. I walked out of the bedroom, grumbling about my misfortune in getting a sister whose big head and an equally big mouth always had to compete with each other. I can’t believe her friends didn’t lose her in Ooty. I had specifically told Priya to dump her at Doddabetta and run for her life. Four blissful days without Jahnavi could have been extended to an entire lifetime. I sat down at the dining table and kept twirling an apple on its fat bottom. Why did it have to be an RJ that I had to have this huggggee crush on? If it had been a VJ, I could have at least stared at him on TV.

Amma caught my hand as I was about to give the apple an opportunity to present another circus act.

“Enna di indha thalai mudi? Yennai thechi evalo naal aaradhu? Pah, apdiye, kanji pona pullu maadhri.” (What’s this hair of yours? When did you last apply oil? It looks like dry grass.)

Catching hold of my poor hair, she applied so much oil on my head that I contracted temporary olfactory delusion. I smelled like a mobile coconut grove along the backwaters of good old Kerala.

“Why did you have to apply so much oil? I am going to wash it off anyway.” I got up resolutely. With strength unimaginable, Amma pushed me back into the chair and added with a menacing glint in her eye, “If you wash it off today, I’ll apply it again. You better keep it on till tomorrow. Let it at least lubricate your brain cells.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“He’s sooooo cute right?” I sighed dreamily.

“Yeah… extremely so.” Jahnavi replied back, distractedly.

“I love his voice. It just wraps itself around me… like Amma’s old shawl.”

“I know. He’s too good.”

“His work is so unique. Avan ellam engeyo irukka vendiyavan” (He’s better off being somewhere else)

“True. He is best suited for Hollywood. I think that’s where he must head after this.”

“You really think so? But he is still young. He would need some more experience.”

“He’s almost 45 Anu. Some more experience would account for a bald head, a toothless smile and a walking stick down the lane. Apram, “Father of the Bride” thaan. Are you nuts?”

I stared at her and then it struck me.

“You idiot, I’m not talking about Shah Rukh Khan. I am talking about RJ Karthik.”

“Oh avana… theriyum. Amma told me. His athai athimber are in California and he is staying in their flat for the time being. Chance kadaichappo ellam avana terrace lerndhu thongi thongi sight adikare. Romba sight adikaadhey, kannu lollaya poida pordhu” (Ah, him, I know. Given a chance, you’re bending over the parapet wall and ogling at him. Don’t do that often. Your eyes will go for a toss.)

“Adi paavi… dhrogi. You’re talking as if you’ve never ogled at any guy at all. Periya Sati Savitri nnu nennappo? (Traitor!! You think you’re Sati Savitri?)” I spluttered, a little miffed that she had noticed it all.

“Alright, so this Karthik is our neighbour. And he is cute, got an amazing voice, awesome hair, a sexy stance and is a chamathu Iyer Paiyyan. So?

I realized then that Jahnavi’s genes could not have belonged to human species at all. Her rudimentary DNA strand must have had a weird time, trying to comprehend as to what shape to take. Shaking my head, I decided that she was chromosomically better off, falling in love with amoeba under a microscope. They are all the same and they do not talk back.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The bell rang and I refused to open the door. I stayed put in my place with a Clive Cussler book in hand. Voices from the living room strayed into mine and revelation struck… Oh yes…aweessoommee!! I touched my head by mistake and… OH NO!!!…nooooooooo. Karthik was in the living room and I could hear Amma calling out for me. Jahnavi was snoozing away happily. Traitor!! Ava porandhu enna prayojanam? (What’s the use of her birth anyway?). I got up and paced the room. Biting away all my carefully home-manicured nails, I wondered what to do. The en suite door was ajar and my desperate eyes landed on a towel.

Mata Anuradha Devi granted an audience to RJ Karthik and Amma’s eyes nearly popped out when she saw my head wrapped in the towel in a very bizarre way. I guess my orange kurta added to my image as well and I nervously smiled at him.

Amma managed to regain her composure quickly and I could see her understand her daughter’s vanity.

“Anu, it seems Karthik is very bored at home. Can you…” Amma paused for a tiny second and my heart leaped. Oooooohhh… “….give him some books to read? You have a pretty big collection, don’t you?”

I nodded my head mutely, a bit disappointed. Amma went into the kitchen to get some coffee for him and I led him into the tiny study where I had set up my bookshelf.

“How’re you doing Anu? You gave quite a shock to all of us that day.” he ventured.

“Oh, I’m doing much better.” I smiled weakly.

I could feel him staring at my towel. I cleared my throat and took some books out.

“What’s with the towel? New fashion?” he grinned.

I jerked back, lest he smelled the coconut oil. Oh God, naan enna paavam panninen. Amma va naan apram vechikaren…(What sin did I commit? Amma better answer all my questions.). I hoped and prayed he wouldn’t cite this as a joke on air the next day.

“It’s nothing to do with fashion. It’s to keep my head a bit cool.” I finished lamely. Cool?

“Ohh”

“Yes. Kerala style!!”

He refused politely the coffee that Amma offered him and left with two of my books.

The towel fell off my head finally.

Ammmmmmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa….

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
to be cont...

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…

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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!!!