Man plans, God laughs

I read it in a book, if you want something you wish to happen in your life, all you have to do is sit and wish. The positive waves from your thinking will make whole universe conspire to carryout your wish and make you happy. This they mentioned as “Law of attraction”. Now, when I recall this law, I feel it is fundamentally flawed. My personal experience tells me , if I secretly wish something to happen, however silly the wish may be, the whole universe will make sure to conspire against me, making me wish that I shouldn’t have wished at first place. At the end, a whole lot of things which I don’t wish will crop up.

All I wished was, to be punctual at office by 9 am and be active in the project implementation at 9.30 am. Aspiring to hit office at 9am is a simple appeal and I hadn’t foreseen any practical threat to it. But I was cheated.

The dawn of 5^th day of November was not like any other casual Chennai dawns. It was rather different. The grey sky welcomed the morning with heavy rain. Chennai was chill, quite unusually. The climate looked creepy but I consoled myself saying “It is alright. Pleasant climate”. I actively accomplished morning tasks and was soon ready to hop in to the company cab except that it didn’t come. Instead I got a call informing the cab delay. Again I sensed some sinister lurking around me , but I put a brave face and bore it. It happens, I told myself.

After 30 minutes delay, I stepped inside the cab still brooding and calculating the expected time to reach destination. I told my friend , who rather looked pleased on this delay, that I had to hit office doors before 9.30 am, otherwise a fiend in the form of my boss would nail me like a film poster in the street wall. Suddenly my cab driver jerked backwards and grinned.  A kind of grin, you don’t expect from anyone, especially on drivers.

If there exists mutual loathing between any two entities in the world, it is the heavy rain and Chennai roads. When our cab was set to crawl on the water, assuming under which could exist city roads, I started to pray seriously. It was only when we neared the basin bridge, I doubted the “Law of attraction”. I mean, it was the place where I grasped the eternal fact that whole universe was conspiring against me. Quite a lump portion of Chennai’s population were struck, or shall I say submerged, at that landmark. Word wars were wagged everywhere.  People were in the mood to fight and surely not in the aura to pave way for those who wish to attend project meetings at 930am. I first shuddered, then wondered why public were so keen on curbing my office going.  This hadn’t dampened my hope utterly, for I still prayed and insisted universe to instill my wish as stated in that spiritual book. Later it seemed, the universe got the wrong signal.

We managed to creep amidst the crowd, but we were not salvaged. At each traffic signal, there stood all means of transport with the mere intention of blocking me. I stopped sending positive hope to universe. There was no more hope. Reaching to office at 9.30am, then, was like beseeching India to hit 8 runs at last ball of last over at crucial cricket finals.  The drenched Kanden kadhali film poster reminded visions of me getting nailed by my project manager. I withdrew my attention to cab side mirror, where my driver flashed another grin, chewing a bubble gum. Then I understood the grin.

Man plans, God laughs.

Coffee corpse

Do you enjoy the sight of dead bodies as first thing in the morning ?

I don’t . Seriously don’t. Silly may be, I am , but still …

Those floating dead bodies gives me a jerk whenever I eye it. This will not cease unless “Ants” abhor sugar balls – Quite impossible, ants may exclaim – or we drink sugarless coffee.

Till then my morning coffee is a niche where you can fish out red ant corpses. This is one such thing I always complain to amma and she endlessly ignores me. Each morning I would point out those lifeless ants in my brewed beverage and amma will say “Too much a pannama , kodutha coffee-a kudi”.

Dear Ants,

Please stay away from our sugar tins. Don’t let your temptation astray you and end up in obituary column. Otherwise, I assure ,  you shall  be the next floating corpse on amma make morning filter coffee tomorrow. Mind it.

Sick

OCT – 24

Doctor – cough – Doct.. – cough , cough – Doccc..tor – cough, cough, cough – I was still struggling.

Dr. Varalakshmi , on seeing my cough gets the graph of “Fibonacci series”, adjusted her mouth mask, which earlier was not on the place where it was supposed to be. She peered at me patiently, hoping her stare would get out my problem soon from the depth of my damaged throat.  But throat wont budge for blank stares.  I was still trying for the next syllable after “Doctor –“ . My amma, abnormally calm thus far, broke the spell and poured out my problem.

Doctor ! , my amma started, “Vani  has got high fever ever since yesterday morning. Something happened to her throat, she coughs uncontrollably.” The next 10 minutes were effectively utilized by my amma to put forth my problems.

If Varalakshmi was my project manager, amma would have made a impression on her speaking skills but the “Doctor Varalakshmi” was not impressed. Perhaps bored. Her gaze averted and focused on my ear stud. After realizing there is nothing much to stare, she reached the prescription pad and filled it, as if she suddenly remembered the answer for the question which she had been pondering desperately. She explained the prescription as she felt her handwriting demands description.

Amma asked anxiously, What happened to Vani ?

Well , I thought it might be chicken kuniya or swine flu, but her symptoms are not sufficient, the female physician said with the touch of regret. So it must be some viral fever, she added.

We left the place , with mutual disappointment.

*****

Next day

I felt cheated by Varalakshmi and doubted her doctor degree. The colorful tablets troubled my soul dwelling. I started to puke.  Edibles found my body floppy. Even H20 revenged me. I disgorged vigorously. This concerned my whole family. 100+ high fever and cuddling at the bed corner is considered quite decent form of illness, but puking all over the place with weird noises is not agreeable.  In fact it was disgusting.  I felt like an overlooked rotten egg which was mistakenly failed to purge for 3 days.

To rub salt on wound, my relatives chose that day to visit our home. Relatives always come at wrong moment. I hate people watching me vomiting with body odor, especially kins.  I didn’t go to hospital. Varalakshmi is a family women who want to spent Sunday’s with her sons and not with surreal patients.

*****

Next day

I was completely dehydrated, from tip to toe. It only requires few more hours to reach coma. I went to hospital. It was crowded and for some known reason all the kids were crying, especially the bulky one at her mother’s lap cried at high pitch ceaselessly. I might have got nervous breakdown before coma, if not my name was called.

Blurred Varalakshmi, smiled before me eyes. she seemed to have expected this.  She ordered the nurse for drips to restore the water supply back on my body.  Before I was drowned on sleep or coma, I know not, I saw the nurse nearing me with sharp needle. The drips done their trick. Though that female doctor failed me with cruel medicines, she reclaimed her dignity with drips.  After few hours I was back to normal. I mean I regained consciousness nothing much.  I still had to catch up with my food which was not easy because in the place of my throat, was then a dark pit with heavy wounds.

*****

After a week

I am writing this post with intermittent coughs for every 2 minutes. I am getting well. I want to eat vanilla milk shake and falooda. But that should wait.

*****

Deepavali

The only difference I see between this and last year Deepavali is that, our street strength has been significantly skyrocketed.  Last year, I recall, me, my brother and 2 more teens were the only four who busted vedis, out of enthusiasm, at the mid of road. The rest of the houses, 30 or so, were still. I mean pin drop silence. No crackers. Nothing. This lack of encouragement, which one expects from the neighbors, dampened our young spirit. Thus unable to show off, boxes of bijilis, lakshmi vedis, kuruvi vedis, Krishna vedis were left untouched and wasted.  We simply didn’t have the heart to blow it when we had nil audience and zero cheers. So we vowed that, hereafter we should not waste money on vedi’s to bust in a place which has absolutely no sense of appreciation.  Hence this year crackers find no place at our home. Not even the sparklers. No, not even a match box. But we missed out the fact that life is not an illaya thalabathi Vijay movie to remain stagnant.

I don’t understand what happened to rest of those 30 houses in the period of 365 days. Suddenly, for every 2 home, there seems to be 3 or more kids planted this year. Especially, the marvadi homes. If government of India had a peek at our quarters, I am sure they will regret and revisit their family planning scheme.  Anyway, this sudden migration of people to our colony dramatically altered the way by which Deepavali was once celebrated. There were sheer competitions among broods on whom to bomb our compound wall first. Some of the busters, at the other end of street, sent rockets in to the warehouse, out of confusion. This fire accident distracted the mood. Everyone worried for a wee bit and blamed each others for the tragedy. Soon everyone was back to busting business. I and my bro watched this whole episode with empty hand. The kids did sneer at us twice for being empty hand and offered couple of bijilis from their pockets.

If I correctly remember, I think exactly at 6 ‘o’ clock, I got the first taste of head ache. Initially I guessed, it must be the aftermath of atom bomb. I was patient, encouraging myself to watch movies and gobbling tins of sweet stuffs. I even tried to watch “Dasavataram” telecasted at kalaignar TV amidst advertisements. Whether it is Kamalhasan’s complex accents or Kalaignar TV ads or the nerve cell deflecting atom & hydrogen bombs , I cannot precisely point out , but at 9’o’ clock I asked faithfully for a cup of lemon juice believing it would cool down my head and it’s other accessories. No happy results. Further 2 tablets of Saridon and half a bottle of Amurthanjan were wasted in the effort to bring back the charm of my head. I slept the whole night with knitted eyebrows and hands over the head.

It took next 48 hours of deep peaceful sleep, except for occasional lunch or dinner, to bring back the functioning of my brain with out pain. Now it is fine.

Dipped Da Vinci Code

I consider myself taciturn when it comes to general matters. But talk to me about books, I can go on and on. I mean non-stop. In one of those rare moments when my mind was misted on appreciating the books I had read, I confessed with open heart that I have the book “The Da vinci code” at my home in the third shelf of my cupboard. It was a casual statement which somehow without my knowledge baited my colleague. Not knowing the intensity of my words and its effect on my companion’s mind, I added “I love Robert Langdon” – that symbologist dude.

The next question from the tempted mind was not “Who is Robert Langdon?” but “Can I have your book”?

What can I say ? My tongue was not curbed where it ought to be.

I agreed. Unwillingly.

Days passed. Weeks Passed. Months Passed.

The mouth which once asked me for my book was stiff now. We used to meet daily, talk about life and other things, but not a word about the book. This rather pained me.

Eventually after 9 months or so, I bravely asked her “Did she love Robert Langdon?” . She replied – “oh ! I haven’t read the book yet”.

This shocked me though I sort of suspected this answer. I wondered, if it takes her 9 months to start Da vinci code, how did she manage to clear all the semesters in BE, considering the fact engineering papers are as dry as parched lands when compared to sensational materials enclosed in Da vinci code. Anyway this had not dampened my spirit entirely. I nagged her further to bring back my book. Painful task it was but I managed it.

One fine day, she came to my desk, clutching something between her fingers as if she was confiscating some dead cockroach against her will. In the nearness, I noticed that disgusting object. Yes it was my book. The book looked brown as a berry. Quite revolting to eye it. I tried to suppress the anger which heaved from my bosom and asked “what happened” ? . She giggled twice and replied – “Nothing. Just got dipped in a can of nutritious chocolate health drink”. She placed the brownish book at my table, again giggled twice and went off leaving me in the eternal grief.

Now whenever I reread the book, Robert Langdon reminds me of this Axe effect chocolate dolt. Nauseating.

Note to self – Never never never lend books to those, who place “Can of health drinks” at office cubicle drawers with the intention of soaking the best selling novels they borrowed from others.

Brand tag

It is often easy to write about something on which I have very vague idea. Instead, ask me a simple, direct question. I will stammer, stutter and sometimes only silence will gush out. Once, In a job interview, I was asked – What is today’s date ?. I tried thrice but failed and I was not selected. Such is my case. Simple things always gives me a big run. That’s why my mind was clogged initially when AVK asked me to do this tag. Some how the clog cleared today.

Now coming to the Tag, Did you ask Brand names ? Ah! I don’t go by brand names and all. I have absolutely no partialities here. Nevertheless, some of the stuffs I use seems to be popular and below they are.

Maggie Noodles: When I was young , innocent, and indulged greatly on home made idlis, dosai and pongal for my morning nourishment, I was introduced with this post modern fine food one day. It was artistic, appealing and eaten with the aid of fork in the place of nasty fingers, thus giving the in taker a rich look. My child mind longed for it. Then I became constant revenue source for this brand.

Cibaca – The tooth paste : Earlier it was cibaca. Now it is colgate-cibaca. Unlike the tasty close-up and peposodent, colgate-cibaca is a tasteless, harsh toothpaste. I have no clue whether any dentist suggested this to appa , or it is my appa’s intention to curb our intake of paste. But for some reason I am tasting this every morning ever since I born as a baby.

Nokia : 6600. A much big mobile for my size, which I realized after buying it. Sometimes I found it heavier than half-empty Tiffin box at my hand bag. Except the size I cannot blame it. Later, unable to bear its mass I bought Nokia 5310. It is slim and simple. I love Nokia and their shaking hands logo.

Google : When the world was dark and life was dull, Google bore torch for me. I googled, googled, gooled, and at last arrived at the heavy-salary-gobbling land of “IT”. Life became bright and I started this blog.

Virgin: Ask me not why I like it. I will not say it’s because of Richard branson.

Ok Enough . Let me tag others (with evil grin )

Vyas, KK, Siddharth, Adaleru, Mahesh, Praveen, Pradeep and Aparajitha

‘44C’ – Broadway to I.O.C

Riding in packed Chennai bus is lot tougher than I thought. I have always been one of those reasonably privileged class, who used to go by cab or auto or train or other personal means of transport, who at the traffic signals coolly stare at the mobs of trapped people inside the Chennai city bus and would gasp “ Cha pavam” (Pity !) ” or words to that effect. I had traveled occasionally on city buses, not the usual over-crowded leaning sideways ones, rather on the buses with moderate mass and peaceful driver. Those journeys were not cosy, neither do haunting.

Recent events in my life imposed me to rely on this bus ‘44C’. It was a 1 hour remarkable journey along with infinite number of people in finite space. The bus was thronged at the terminal itself. In the subsequent stops, people who trusted the statement “When there is a will, there is a way”, found a way to shove them inside. I was not lucky to get a seat, neither do the people who got seated were lucky. I mean, One can hardly call the seated passengers as “Lucky”, if every stuff from standers were dumped in their lap and suffocated to death. Here, inside the bus, the pain was mutual and everybody endured it.

There is something I witnessed on the eyes of every resident on the bus, especially on the eyes of driver and conductor. It is the gleam of displeasure and drop of hatred. No one was particularly happy over the trip. I asked the conductor to give me a ticket by showing him 10 rupees note. I think that state of affairs had thrown him to deep distress. He was very upset, in fact angry. My 10 rupees note didn’t help him either. He looked at me sternly with every neck nerve of his straining to bust any time , and barked – What is this ? Eh ? What is this ? Can’t you get exact change (3 Rs 50 paise) for the ticket ? .The co-passengers cooled him down. At last I got my ticket.

Then the ride was adventurous. Amidst this crushing assemblage , I noticed some fascinating humans. The foremost being this big female, about some 170 pounds, who bumped on everyone around her without caring much on how she physically harmed others. Then this lean old lady, not so contented with conductor for not returning her balance cash 50 paise, accused him as “stealer and cheater”. Then this diplomatic disciplined gentleman, who pacified everyone whenever a verbal eruption spurted out. Then this bunch of school boys with their backs mounted by bags of size bigger than themselves, were constantly rebuked by others for pressing their boots on others naked feet. Then this middle aged women who frequently asked every seated passengers the same question that “when-will- you- get- down-so-I-can-sit-on-your-place”. Bunch of college dudes who found the foot-board fascinating , and few other blokes who crawled on bus top, were few others who earned my attention in the course of journey.

The audacious tip ended at last when I hopped out from the bus after an hour. I felt exactly like an knocked out boxing player.

Cattle class & Fish market

If there is anything I gained out of this classic “cattle class” twitter remark , it is my school memories. Why it triggered my school memory ? I know not, but it triggered.

It was a girls school. I cannot suppose how boys would fight at school, but I am much familiar with girls fight. They are different. It all started with a small misunderstanding between two friends ( let say A & B). A said something silly which B disagreed by commenting “Podi loosu” (Go idiot !). The word war began with the swift help from the chums of both A and B. I cannot recollect, between A & B, who believed in the principal, that physical attack should always takes precedence over verbal attack if winning is needed in a circumstance. Incidentally, the first blow was issued . Calmness restored for a couple of seconds. Then a couple of gentle blows, a couple of harsh words, then followed the series of heavy blows, hopping, dragging, rolling etc..

It was when our Class teacher entered and shrieked “FISH MARKET ! FISH MARKET !, THIS IS NOT A CLASS . A FISH MARKET. “

Unlike now , we didn’t raise any flag against our mam for alluding our class to fish market and it didn’t affect our sentiments.

Can you do it ?

People find more sophisticated ways to annoy me each day. The latest being this girl S.

Me : We need to work together for this project S.
S : yes Vani. This project is quite easy. Requirements are direct and simple.
Me : Oh is it ? I haven’t went through the requirements yet. I am bit busy with other projects. Prepare the technical document S.
S : Sure Vani. It is quite simple. I can do it.

(After a week)
Me : Did you finish the technical design S ?
S : No Vani. I can do it today.
Me : ok. Make sure you send it for review today.

(After a couple of days)
Me : Did you send the document for review S ?
S : No Vani. Actually I found a design problem.
Me : Ah ! You haven’t told me yet ?
S : Actually I thought of telling you today.
Me : But we crossed the deadline S . We should inform the team about this problem. Let me send an email. Make sure you send the document for review today.
S : Sure Vani. Will send it today.

(Next day)
Me : S ?
S : Yes Vani
Me : The onsite team is not satisfied with our explanation. They are curious about the delay S.
S : oh is it Vani ?
Me : yes. True. Did you send the document S ?
S : No Vani. I was busy with other task.
Me : hmm…..you said you can do it yesterday.
S : Oh yes Vani. I could have done this yesterday, if I was not busy with other task.
Me : S , I can understand you are busy. But what prevented you from informing us that you are busy.
S : I thought of informing you today Vani, because I was busy yesterday.
Me : oh well , but onsite team won’t agree with this.
S : Is it Vani ?
Me : Yes.
S : May be I will send it today Vani.
Me : That’s what you are keep telling me daily S. Will be you able to complete it today ?
S : Yes sure Vani.
Me : *sigh*

Recommendation

In this universe, there are significant count of people who had the misfortune of seeking my recommendation. I am not being pompous here, in fact my real feelings are quite opposite, I may say dejected, despondent, downhearted.

If anyone is bright enough to consult me before banging my door for recommendation, my piece of advice would be, “ Don’t don’t don’t ever trust someone like me and get misguided, Disturb someone who is fit and capable. This is the trick of life and that’s what you need “.

Personally I am not against recommendation, but you see when someone asks somebody for something, that somebody should be potent of granting that something to someone, otherwise what is the point of asking somebody for something? Worthless, useless, hopeless…

The other day, when my long-long-distant cousin called me (whose existence I came to know only by that call ) and asked “If I can extend my helping hand to make him get a job” , I lifted my head upward and stared a bit. I could have simply exclaimed – Ah ! well, I wish I could help you, but there are strictly no openings at present. But I didn’t say so. My heart was heavy with this newly found brotherly feeling and I do have sentiments like “never-hurt-the-heart-which-esteems-you”. I asked him, after taking couple of breaths which I generally do before I launch to lie, to pass his profile to me , knowing with certainty that it is of no use . I assured him that he would soon be engaged to a job. He was happy, so I was, though my conscience irked inside.