A fish called Tish

At the bottom of a river
Lay a stone shining like silver
Beneath the stone lived a fish
With a name sounding like Tish

She was silver like the stone

Had none for company and lived alone

One morning she felt a wish

Staring at her from her morning dish

Tired of lying on her tummy
She wished for something cosy
She got herself a table

But rocky seabed made it unstable

She searched low and high for a chair

But missed it by the strand of a hair

For Kelly, the jelly got it first

And left Tish with a chair-y thirst

Disappointed Tish swam for long
On her lips sang a sad song

Breathe sputtering through her gills

As mind devoid of thrills

Tired of swimming, many fish hours later

She decided to settle for a breather
Laid down on a bed of anemone
And slept till tiredness was none

A Tundra song

Come to the Tundra
Looking for Sandra
Very far from Bandra
Nowhere near Andhra

Tundra animals are larger
With appendages smaller
Their heat loss is lower
Their resistance to cold higher

Snow goose flocks in summer
Saxifrage absorbs heat in summer
Grizzly bear hibernate in winter
Tough life for all for sure

On the top, lies  Arctic Tundra
At the bottom, Antarctic Tundra
Not exactly in the middle, Alpine Tundra
Are three types of Tundra

So what about Sandra?
Does she live in Tundra?
Did she leave Bandra?
Maybe, but I am not from Bandra

Neem it seems

Neem it seems
Is an everyplace tree
Nothing noticeable
It seems

Neem it seems
Turns special for a few
Cemented by their love
It seems

Neem it seems
Made people linger
Far longer than required
It seems

Neem it seems
Sucks in everyday occurences
To turn them into nostalgia
It seems

Neem it seems
Is helpless against walls
Built using thoughtless bricks
It seems

Neem it seems
Loses pleasantness of nostalgia
Only painful ghostly memories remain
It seems

What's going on...

The dinner group consisted of three women and two men. It seemed almost evenly balanced. One of the men was so boisterous that he thought he was more than a match for the three women. But he required the  moral support from the other man to get into the boisterous spirit. The dinner seemed a perfect location for the battle of the sexes. At precisely that moment, the almighty threw a loaded dice. The one who was supposed to provide the moral support backed out. The reason was of trivial that it probably deserved a celebration rather than pulling out. But such was the power of the loaded dice that instead of celebration he decided to get into his den and meditate.

Men of smaller ego would have wilted but not our man. He had b's made of s and decided to take the bat head on. When the women asked him if he would be comfortable being the lone male in the female bastion, he responded with a confident "but will you be comfortable having me as the lone male in your fair company". They rolled their eyes and responded "Why the hell not!" Thus he arrived, dressed carefully in the most casual of the dresses - a well ironed grey shirt crumpled lightly prior to wearing and a blue faded denim pant scratched at the knee till it had a small but elegant hole. He arrived in his carefully battered car. The valet at the restaurant effectively hid his disgust at driving the car. But the disgust emerged when he opened the car with a single finger, the little one at that. 

He walked in and sat nonchalantly on a sofa. He fished out his mobile and checked through his three day old messages. He had finished his third perusal of the messages when he heard a set of "hi" directed at him. He looked up and twitched slightly the left edge of his lips. He waved his hands in a dramatic 80's disco kind of moment. The women looked at each other, smiled and sat. Conversation started almost instantly. The boisterous one's one liners came like the arrows from Arjun's bow in the TV serial version of Mahabaratha. He held his ground bravely. It seemed for a few moments that he had taken the lead in the battle. Then the tide turned.

The women started talking about matters that he had no idea about - colours. He gulped as he ran into names that sounded like nuclear particles but in reality were colours that lay between blue and green. He threw up his hand when he was told that there existed a colour called nuetrino. To him the colour seemed like light green and he, rather stupidly, aired his opinion. The women laughed a good three minutes and eighteen seconds. The women seated in the next table laughed for two minutes and seven seconds. The boisterousness bolted from his self in the direction of the loo. He did not even bother to excuse himself. He got up walked off to the loo and forced out a few unwilling drops. He came out and called a friend who on seeing the name of the caller on the mobile phone fell out of his chair and broke his pelvic bone.

When he reached back, the topic had moved from the closet to the bedroom. One of the women looked at him for a moment with hesitation and turned right back at the others and continued. He sat down and listened to the conversation for a couple of minutes. He was stumped by the direction of the conversation had taken. If his face was of the fair type, it would have gone red but in his case, it ended as some other colour with a nuclear particle name. He sipped some water, gulped it, crossed his legs tightly and continued listening to the conversation. 

Soufflé and Showlace

The time for desserts had arrived
Yet none could have moved
For their bellies had bulged
With food they had gulped
Snack were followed by peanuts
Ignoring the soup definitely sucks
The hot liquid was followed by food
Pizza and breads with eggs tasted good

We don't need anymore
Dessert had to be ignored once more
I trudged to the dessert counter still
And picked a Soufflé against my will
As I turned around from the counter
My unfastened shoelace pushed me over
Down I went while the Soufflé flew
Its fat tummy jiggling all through

Like a boon from God it landed perfectly
In front of the prettiest of girls, fortunately
She smiled and looked around
But missed me lying on the ground
Her eyes locked with a handsome one
Whose instant smile shamed the sun

I slid my way out of the restaurant
The dirt of the ground browned my pant
The unseen dirt on my ego hurt
More than a truck load of dirt
I bent in a safe corner to tie my lace
And left with shame on my face

Lester needs a few Bodys

I was lying down besides the pond next to the old Banyan tree when I heard footsteps approaching me. Four oddly dressed persons walked up to me. They bowed and one of them said "Sir, can I snatch a piece of your precious time?" I was intrigued by this usage of words and agreed readily. He continued somberly "I am Everybody, this is Nobody, that is Anybody and the person at the end is Somebody. We have been treated unjustly by the poet Shel." "Who is Shel?" I asked trying to stop the world from spinning. Nobody said "Shel is the poet who wrote about Lester. Surely, you have heard of Lester?" I felt embarrassed and gave out a non-committal "Hmmm, aaaahh, ohhhhhh".  Somebody jumped in and said "He wrote about Lester and the Goblin but left us out of the poem. Everybody was there; it could not have happened if not for Somebody; Anybody could have walked out of it but he didn't; Nobody talked about it. So how come we don't figure in the poem?" Nobody asked pleadingly "Please write the actual happenings as we recount it to you." I felt dazed with some many Body's and agreed to do so.

They recited the happening and I wrote what follows.

Lester:	Lester was given a magic wish
Goblin:	By the goblin who lives in the banyan tree,
Lester:	And with his wish he wished for two more wishes— So now instead of just one wish, he cleverly had three.
Goblin:	Uh uh! You got your mathematics wrong. You had one and asked for two but in the process you lost one and you ended up with two.
Lester:	Uh uh uh! I used the one wish to wish for two wishes and since I wished for wishes the wish does not count and so I have two plus one wish, which makes it three wishes. You wish you were as clever as me but your wish is will remain a wish for I am cleverer than clever and I have three wishes
Goblin:	But... eh! Wish... eh! Two... Oh! Too clever or so you think. Its two and not three
Lester:	Three
Goblin:	Two
Lester:	Three
Goblin:	Two
Lester:	Three
Goblin:	Two
Lester:	Two
Goblin:	Three
Lester:	Yooohoooo! And with each one of these THREE wishes He simply wished for three more wishes, Which gave him three old wishes, plus nine new.
Goblin:	There he goes again. Its two old wishes, plus nine new
Lester:	There he goes again. Its three old wishes, plus nine new
Goblin:	Two and nine
Lester:	Three and nine
Somebody:	Will you both stop it
Anybody:	Fighting over a wish
Nobody:	Yes, over a measly wish
Goblin:	Hey! Nobody calls my wish a measly wish. Nobody should call my wish a measly wish. With a wish somebody can get a lot of something. With a wish anybody can get a lot of anything, even nobody will no longer be nobody.
Lester:	And with each of these twelve He slyly wished for three more wishes. Which added up to forty-six—or is it fifty-two?
Somebody:	Fifty-one
Goblin:	Yes! Fifty-one. Somebody, here take a wish
Somebody:	Gee thanks. But why did you give it to me? You can give it to anybody.
Everybody:	Why Anybody? Give it to Everybody
Goblin:	Quiet! I am already struggling with Lester and his wishes. So nobody gets my wish.
Nobody	Thank you Goblin
Goblin:	Not Nobody! I meant nobody. I guess it is easier to agree with Lester. Its nine plus three Lester
Lester:	Well anyway, he used each wish To wish for wishes ‘til he had Five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-four.
Everybody:	Ah! There he goes again. Lester, nobody is worse in maths than you.
Nobody:	Hey Everybody! What do you know about my knowledge in maths?
Everybody:	I did not mean Nobody. I meant nobody. Anybody can understand that.
Anybody:	Actually, I did not understand that.
Everybody:	Ah! I can’t take this anymore. Somebody, please help me.
Somebody:	How can I help you, Everybody?
Everybody:	Oh, forget it! Lester, I counted and it’s only Five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-two.
Lester:	No, no, no, no! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-four.
Everybody:	No, no, no, no! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-two.
Goblin:	No, no, no, no! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-four.
Lester:	Yes, yes, yes, yes! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-four.
Nobody:	No, no, no, no! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-two.
Somebody:	Yes, yes, yes, yes! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-two.
Lester	No, no, no, no! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-four.
Goblin:	Yes, yes, yes, yes! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-four.
Anybody:	No, no, no, no! It’s five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-two.
Goblin:	Quiet everybody. This is nobody’s business. Lester, go on.
Nobody:	How come it only not my business? What about Somebody, Anybody and Everybody.
Goblin:	Lester, GO ON.
Lester:	And then he spread them on the ground And skipped and sang, and then sat down And wished for more. And more… And more… They multiplied
Somebody, Everybody, Nobody, Anybody:	While other people smiled and cried And loved and reached and touched and felt.
Somebody:	Come Lester, let us play.
Anybody:	You have no clue That the sky is blue, The clouds are white The sun is shining bright On the grass that is greener than green Let’s play before we dine
Lester:	No sky for me No clouds for me The sun can’t steal my wishes The grass can’t dream of my wishes My wishes are mine Only mine, mine, mine
Somebody:	Let’s play Lester before we dine
Lester:	My wishes are mine Only mine, mine, mine
Nobody:	Let’s play Lester before we dine
Lester:	My wishes are mine Only mine, mine, mine
Everybody:	Let’s play Lester before we dine
Lester:	My wishes are mine Only mine, mine, mine
Somebody, Everybody, Nobody, Anybody:	Oh Lester, why can’t you come and play with us?
Lester:	Lester sat amid his wealth Stacked mountain-high like stacks of gold. Sat and counted—and grew old.
Somebody, Everybody, Nobody, Anybody:	And then one Thursday night they found him
Goblin:	It wasn’t a Thursday. It was a Friday.
Somebody, Everybody, Nobody, Anybody:	It was a Thursday, Goblin. It was two days before the weekend.
Goblin:	It was definitely a Friday. One day before Saturday and one day after Thursday. I am sure.
Somebody, Everybody, Nobody, Anybody:	Wait! Let us see. What did you do on Monday, Goblin?
Goblin:	I slept under the tree.
Everybody:	What did you do on Tuesday, Goblin?
Goblin:	I slept on the tree.
Nobody:	What did you do on Wednesday, Goblin?
Goblin:	I slept by the mushroom.
Anybody:	What did you do on Thursday, Goblin?
Goblin:	I slept in a room.
Somebody:	What did you do on Friday, Goblin?
Goblin:	I woke up and found Lester dead
Somebody, Everybody, Nobody, Anybody:	That’s true Goblin. Lester died on Thursday and you found him dead on Friday
Goblin:	Oh! Could that be so?
Somebody, Everybody, Nobody, Anybody:	That is so, Goblin. And then one Thursday night they found him. Dead—with his wishes piled around him. And they counted the lot and found that not A single one was missing.
Somebody:	Seventy six billion trillion, ninety four million, twenty two thousand, one
Anybody:	Seventy six billion trillion, ninety four million, twenty two thousand, one
Nobody:	Seventy six billion trillion, ninety four million, twenty two thousand, one
Anybody:	Seventy six billion trillion, ninety four million, twenty two thousand, one
Somebody:	All shiny and new—here, take a few
Anybody:	And think of Lester as you do.
Nobody:	In a world of apples and kisses and shoes
Anybody:	He wasted his wishes on wishing.

I looked up when they stopped reciting the incident and asked "is that all?" They shook their heads in affirmation. I asked them further "What happened to the wishes?" They responded in unison "Oh! We used it to get here."

It's late, a little too choco-late

One of my friends was sucking her thumb when some of the events I talk about took place. Another did not even have a thumb and I was killing time by running around the city of Bangalore. I talk of old times, when mobile meant "able to move or be moved freely or easily". I talk of very old times when cell meant "a small room in which a prisoner is locked up". I have not bothered to revisit the places that I mention here, for many years now and so have no idea if they exist anymore. I, for sure, know that one of the places closed down many years ago but the others might exist still. But I am sure that the flavour flowing out them today would be very different from the days I talk about. So I will use the word likes "exist" in the past tense from here on.

As the St.Marks road, pierced its way toward M.G.Road, it crossed Brigade road just beyond the Rex theater. If one looked eagerly to the left, one would have seen a nondescript cream coloured building followed by the Galaxy theater with its expansive parking. This building housed two popular eateries of those days. The first, Nagarjuna, served fine Andhra food. Their unlimited Andhra meal began with paruppu podi and ghee and for many, never ended. A small path, on the side of the building sticking to the compound wall with Galaxy theater, led to the finest ice cream shops in the city, The Corner House. I am sure not everyone would agree with my declaration of this place being the finest. Many loved Lakeview on M.G.Road but, in my opinion, that place was a con. They had a hundred varieties of sundae and mondae with fancy names like breezy friday evening, a cold love, cozy calendula and my favorite name, crooning exstasy. All of them were made from 10 flavours of icecream and at times, the only difference would be the order in which they are arranged. Thus we discovered that peaceful panacea had chocolate, strawberry and vanilla, whereas going with a bang had vanilla, strawberry and chocolate.

Corner House was famous for two sundaes, Hot Chocolate Fudge (lovingly called HCF) and (at this point, hope everyone hears the drum roll and the ta-ra-rum-pum-pums) Death by chocolate. HCF with the nut laced hot chocolate sauce poured over vanilla ice cream scoops was a regular order and loved by all. For a long time, all of us looked the name Death by Chocolate with fear in our eyes. Many felt that one would actually die halfway through the dish. We felt like those Egyptian helpers in Howard Carter's team who dug through the Valley of the Kings to the cursed tomb of Tutankhamen. Some of us could actually hear the curse "The eyes of the Cocoan Gods fall on the one who orders Death by Chocolate and with every mouthful a part of  his/her soul shall become the property of the Gods till there is none to continue living." So we ordered HCF and looked at those ominous words on the menu with wistful eyes. 

One semester, I had picked a pathetic course and was on verge of flunking it. Life seemed so dark that I believed that my soul would be too tasteless for even the Cocoan Gods. So I skipped dinner and ordered the Death. A large plastic bowl of brown coloured rocky mountains arrived.  Corner House loved serving their sundaes in styrofoam or plastic cup and bowls. That was the part of their cool attitude. Death consisted of many pieces of chocolate cake, surrounded by chocolate ice cream and loads of chocolate syrup poured all over. Nothing else! They did not even place the lethally sweet, syrupy and sticky cherry on top. The missing cherry disappointed me. I loved to munch the cherry as I licked the syrup off my fingers.  I dug into the sundae and realized it tasted like chocolate something; a lot of chocolate something that is. I did not struggle to get through the death and obviously did not die in the process. I did not enjoy the dish though. It only had one problem, it had too much chocolate in it and I am not a chocolate person.

I like chocolates and don't faint at the sight of it. But you will not find me in an ice cream parlour requesting for additional chocolate sauce on a dish containing chocolate slush stuffed chocolate cake topped with chocolate ice cream. I have seen such people and roll my eyes when I see them walking towards the counter for the additional chocolate sauce. A Diary Milk here or a Bourbon biscuit there is not a problem. During the early days of my life, the small chocolate filled Éclairs had a special place for everyone. I somehow associated, the Éclairs distributing birthday kid to be a rich kid. I never distributed Éclairs; in fact, I did not like either - I used to wonder if that meant that I did not even have richness within me. My favorite chocolate moment came a few years ago, when I bit into a chocolate laced with mint. For me, chocolate tastes best when it is corrupted with something else - with nuts, with dry fruits, with crackles, with Oreo, with wafers, with nuts (Oh! I love nuts in my chocolate).

I love receiving boxes of chocolates as gifts though. I will never-ever walk in to a shop and ask for chocolates and this makes the gift doubly sweet. Sadly, in the past few days, I have been promised boxes of chocolates by 2 persons and their promises have not been fulfilled yet. Mind you, I hold no ill-thoughts against them. They promised to get me the boxes for trivial reasons and I am sure I don't deserve this benevolence. Besides, a box of chocolates brings in unpredictability. As Gump's momma always said, "Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." When I heard this statement, I felt there was more to it than meets the ears. I searched through my life and understood what it was. Gump's momma should have always said "Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get. The only time you know what you are gonna get is when the box doesn't arrive at all. In that case, you get nothing at all." I like the predictability that not having the box of chocolates brings and was never looking forward to those boxes of chocolates.

My only worry is that they promised and science is on the verge of proving that unfulfilled promises flash through a persons last thoughts. So seventy years from now, I can see them on their death beds mumbling incoherently "My God! I did... did... did not give that cho... cho...co.....la...." The machine displaying the spiky lines while chanting bip-bip-bip suddenly shows a flat line and goes beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Of course, by that time, I would have been long gone and long forgotten and the promise shall remain unfulfilled for ever. It will be a black spot, that is blacker than the black hole, in the conscience of the universe. In this case, there will be two such spots. Science is a few years away from proving that such black spots are the reason for the ever expanding universe, which would result in the breaking down of the creation-destruction cycle and ultimately would result in a universe that can neither die nor live.

The thought of this happening makes me sad. 

Deathly tauts

I love Pink Floyd but I hardly get the urge to listen to their songs. I have been unable to explain this phenomenon. In the case of many other bands, a bit of their music comes into my head from nowhere and I feel the irresistible urge to listen to their songs. But in the case of Pink Floyd, I never get the feeling (except for the album Division Bell, which many die-hard fans don't accept to be Pink Floyd at all). There's one song by the Pink Floyd that deserves a different treatment though. Its "Free Four" from their 1972 album "Obscured by the clouds". The album is quite an interesting listen but "Free Four" is the best. It is a happy tune with morbid lines woven into it. Of course, David Gilmour puts in some scorching riffs and leads to make the song a great rock song.

I love listening to this song for two reasons.

1. The chorus at beginning of the song, which goes "One, two, free, four"

2. Soon after, two lines that seem to have become the motto of my life appear.

Life is a short, warm moment
And death is a long cold rest

I find the first line, a reason to live - life is warm and it is short. Should we not enjoy the warmness of life, especially when it is only available for a short moment? When difficulty strikes, I love looking the short part of the moment though; at that point the thought of warmness seems a rude joke. But the thought that the difficulty and life will pass on soon, gives me the strength to live with the difficulty and either get used to it or overcome it. 

And then, there's death. Death being long cold rest somehow sounds attractive, especially the long and rest part. The cold in the middle seems uncomfortable but it is not necessarily so. There are two ways to die. Either you let it come to you or you go to it. The former is completely beyond one's control. Many think that the latter is under their control but the thought is far from reality. I have heard of two cases, where people walked up to death but did not reach it.

A lady, frustrated by the issues in her life, decided to jump from the terrace of her five-storey building. She went up to the terrace, got on top of the parapet wall and jumped. She probably saw death and attempted to grab it. But she could not reach it, her hand got entwined in a cable. This broke the fall and she ended up on bed with a few broken bones and many embarrassing questions to answer.

A man, tired of the challenges life hurled at him, decided to cut a couple of his arteries. He cut an artery on his wrist and one on his neck and waited for death to come. An hour later, all he had lost was a lot of blood. He had not even lost his consciousness. He felt weak but his mind was agile. He reached out to his friends and requested, in desperation, for their help in getting to death. The friends rushed and found him at the centre of a room submerged in blood. They rushed him to hospital and he has now lived for more than ten years since that day.

I am sure, people are aware of others who have reached out unsuccessfully to death. But, I am sure there are many others who have done so successfully. My own head reminds me of a few faces whose owners have hung, jumped or drowned to get to other side. There are times, when I have thought about it myself. If I want to go, how will I go?

The sun had not set yet. I stood on the side of a busy highway. I looked towards the east, away from the traffic, which sped past me without care. The sun was on the other side of the world and darkness crawled stealthily from below on this side of the world. I watched at the sea in the distance; a large expanse of sand and bushes separated me from it. I took a step off the highway and walked through the sand to the sea. The place was in the middle of nowhere and so the beach was empty. I sat down right at the edge of the waves and let the water touch my feet. As darkness took control of the sky, the water embraced me some more. Soon, the sea lost interest in me and the waves started pushing me away. I did not make any voluntary movement. I sat there and let the sea play its game.

A few minutes or maybe hours later, I got up and started walking into the sea. Unlike the Red Sea, this one did not part to welcome me. It tried to push me away. It was probably trying to tell me something but my mind had turned deaf and I continued walking into the water. Suddenly, the ground underneath my feet disappeared and I lost balance. I was surrounded by darkness and water entered through my nose into the lungs. I sputter and cough and breathed in more water. Now, I listened to the sea's warning and kicked up. I managed to break through the water and attempted to take in air. But the coughs did not let in much air. I struggled to stay afloat but the sea has fallen in love with me and was desperate to embrace me. I felt his arms wrap around me and dragged me down. I lost my ability to differentiate between him and me. Soon, I gave up the struggle and fell to the bottom like a wafting piece of paper. I can clearly see myself going down to the bottom of the sea. The darkness that enveloped the earlier happenings is shadowed by sunlight streaming through the sea. It seemed like a scene straight out of the movie Finding Nemo. 

The problems in life are never too much for you to walk into the sea or train or bus or fan. You give the problem a day or two and it creeps into some unknown hole. But when we live through it, it provides a never-ending stream of misery. It is not the problems that makes one think "how much longer!" It's the boringness of life; its monotonousness. I mean, let's move back and look at our lives objectively; lets keep that damned feeling called emotion in a strong black box with a strong and big black lock. What do we see! We see a pattern. 

You run into a problem. It hits you like truck on a highway. You look all around and scream "Where the hell did that come from? I did not see it coming." All the shouting and screaming is of no point, it is here to stay for a few days. Its like the common cold, you steam, gargle, medicate and at times, stand on your head too but it will not let go of you for two weeks. At first, you try and push the problem under a carpet but there is no space under the carpet and it jumps right back at you with double the force. You look at it, like the neighbour's obnoxiously sweet baby who has just urinated on your lap.  It smiles at you very sweetly and you get angry. You shout, fret, scream and make a mess of yourself. All the energy you have let out, gets right into the baby problem and it turns into a healthy teenager (Now, I understand the law of conservation of energy). You sulk, wear dark glasses, wear a dark shirt, wear a dark pant, make your face dark with a frown and a beard and in many cases, start glugging dark liquids. The problem is now of married and gets a spouse. Now you have to take care of Mrs. and Mr. Trouble. One day, you throw away all the dark items and the trouble family disappears. I am not sure, if the throwing away is responsible for the disappearance of the family or vice versa.

Our life is a series of issue landing on our plate when we least expect it, which is always, and disappearing suddenly, in some cases due to someone's intervention but on many occasions for no logical reason. That is all we do - at a hourly level, daily level, weekly level, monthly level, yearly level, decade-ly level and ... Thank god, not many of us live till 100. How boring is this! Shouldn't we be doing something else than solving problems? Can't we just sit someplace and do nothing? Oh yes, that will make life boring, which is a problem. To solve this problem, you jump into something and now you have many more problems. Your pleasantly boring life turns into a roller coaster and you feel good till the day you realize that you have too many problems and feel like letting it all go and do nothing. Hell! Did you not start from there? Human beings are nuts. They developed their brains and are now struggling to keep it occupied.

When one looks at life, at this mega-level, you realize the frustration and want to let go of it. But how! Most of us don't have the ability to just sit in a corner and leave. We have to put ourselves through a lot of violence and cause trauma to oneself and others around you. That is no way to leave at all and so we live on.

What the hell am I writing! I should stop. As Pink Floyd said in the song Time

The time is gone, the song is over, thought I had something more to say

For God's sake, it ain't no joke.

Its better to be a joker than a God. You ask why? I am surprised you do. Did you not hear about that fellow Lucifer who was once a God or angel or some divine being of that sort. Suddenly, he fell from grace and became a devil, no less. Though I am sure its fun being the devil, his reputation stinks. In these times, everything starts with reputation. I know of a person who successfully became the leader of a country but his reputation stunk worse than a skunk and so he receives more abuse than indifference. So no point being the devil. Even Tolkein's Sauron was some kind of angelic creature that fell from grace and was ultimately destroyed through Frodo's actions. ... or was it Gollum's greed?

What is the point being a God as Gods can fall from grace. But a joker can never fall from grace for a joker has no grace at all.

Billi-ant

Badi didi went missing
Chotti didi went fishing
Little billis are hoarse crying
Looking into every eye meowing

No merciful soul in vicinity
Bad ones looked at them with glee
Worse ones made them flee
Feeling sad they stretched their knee
Hunger gnawing in their tummy

Cocks hate peacocks

He wanted everyone to think of him as the devil's incarnate. One could find him sitting someplace with a set of people listening to him with wonder in their eyes as he bragged about his wild escapades, which always involved booze, running into trouble and resolution through brute force. I being who I am avoided him for as long as I could. But then fate brought us together in the form of an on-site project. Fate promoted him from being a distant colleague to someone who was part of my life 24 hours a day (in a completely unromantic way, that is). 

The bragging about living on the wild side of life continued. Every evening he suggested visiting some club or the other. Every time, I shook my head vigorously to suggest a vehement no.  At home, I spent most of time, locked in my room. The only time we spent together through the day was duing lunch and dinner. The pattern of conversation at these times, remained the same; he would talk and talk and then talk some more and I would respond with a "mmmm hmmmm" or "Oh! is it?" or "Ah". The stories of bravado continued. "I have to tell you about that time when I beat up a TASMAC guy ...", "I caught hold of the auto drivers neck from the back and asked him to slow down..." and "I designed the heavy water storage unit at a nuclear reactor in Japan...", "I ensured that the plane did not take off till I reached ..." and so on.

Over time, the content of the conversations moved into the official zone - about this project or that issue. He continued to brag though - about how he had solved an issue or how the manager patted his back and said he was the best. This version of him was worse than the earlier one. I looked back at the TASMAC narration days longingly and a few times attempted to get him back to that zone. But he brushed it off and went back to "... and this is cool part. I used this variable to move that value here and then called the Fourier transform function that I had created..." To make matters worse, the fellow was terribly competitive. He sulked around the house the two or three times I completed my work earlier than him. He would want to see my work to try and poke holes in it. I wondered if he had an evil twin who disposed him and was now living like him with me (So many hims that it could pass off as a himn). 

Six months, into the project, I underwent an annual review. As ever, I was a awarded a boring 90 percentile - a location that seemed right at the top but in reality was miles away from it and was so crowded that one could hardly breathe. There is a saying in the corporate circle that states "He who resides in the 70 percentile can move to 99 but the 90 percentile shall not move an inch, this way or that". So I was a boring and barely effective good performer. At that time, I was young and had not realised this eternal truth. I came home and found my colleague sitting on the bean bag looking glum. As soon as I got into the room, he ranted.

"The bloody fellow gave me a 97. Can you believe it, a 97? How can he do this? You will not believe the reason he gave for this 97. He claims that on-site people don't get more than 90 and that 97 is better than the best. I don't like anything less than one hundred. I had resigned to being a 99 in this damned organization. Now, they pull me down to 97. Soon I will be wallowing around in the 90s. You know, I was always a first ranker in my school and college. No one was better than me and now I am a 97. Three percentile people are considered better than me."

He ranted on for a good 27 minutes. At the start of minute 28, I feigned headache and got into my room. I switched on the computer and sent a mail to my manager requesting him to get me off this on-site project. Managers loved such mails. They could fill this position with another eager young soul who had been pestering the manager from the minute he had been confirmed in the organization. In a matter of weeks, I was back home and never saw him again. I would rather be with cocks who thought they were peacocks than be with a real peacock that strutted around like one.

As Def Leppard said ...

PPPPPPPP      GGGGGGGG            1        333333

P                P   G                            1  1                    3

P                P   G                          1    1                    3

P                P   G                                1                    3

PPPPPPPP      G          GGG             1              333

P                      G                     G        1                    3

P                      G                     G        1                    3

P                      G                     G        1                    3

P                        GGGGGGGG     111111  333333

She walked up to me with a mug of tea. The steam rising from the mug distorted her face. She seemed tired and I couldn't help but notice the wound near her neck on the collar bone. Normally  I would have enquired with a lot of concern  about her well being. But the previous day was Valentines day and she had taken off. So I hesitated. Ultimately I gave into my 9-to-6 senses and kept quiet.

That evening, she walked up to me with a mug of tea. The steam rising from the mug distorted her face, which did not seem happy. As she came closer, I realized it was not just unhappiness, her face seemed tight with anger. In such situations, I used to throw a PJ at her and that relaxed her a bit. I tried the same tactic. "What is the one word that describes someone sitting and eating?" When she did not respond for a thirty seconds, I lost my patience and gave away the answer "Seating." Her stare got harder. The eyes tightened so much that her eyeball reduced to a eye-point. I wanted wave and check if she could see anything with that point but thought it better to let go. I brought concern on my face and asked with concern in my voice "What happened?"

 

It seemed, those were the very words she was waiting to hear. She started talking with a "Those" and then went on to say words that I refrain to use here before coming back to what she wanted to say. The following is a censored version of what she said "Those ... think that this wound on my neck is a love bite!" I have been told spontaneity is a good thing. A doctor once recommended a medicine called "Spongra" to increase my spontaneity. Everyone who knows me thought of me as a boring, controlled and totally unspontaneous person. Those good hearted fellows do not realize that the issue I have is not with spontaneity but about being spontaneous at the wrong time. Like that one time, I spontaneously took off my hands off my two wheeler as I was rolling along at 20. The vehicle spontaneously lost control and I spontaneously found myself sprawled on the road. Of course, my knee spontaneously started bleeding and I spontaneously felt ache arising out of different parts of my body. The only saving grace was that a crowd of laughing faces did not spontaneously appear. Instead, when I reached my destination, a friend's house, a plate of cooked crabs spontaneously appeared in front of me. So I take this opportunity to inform all that I am spontaneous but only the wrong moments.

 

The moment after she mentioned the words "love bite" was one such moment. (I realize that love bite is also referred to as something that sounds like Hichki but the word sounds too juvenile to be used in this serious piece. Beside , Def Leppard did not sing a song named "Hichkeeeeeeeee".) I should have nodded my head from side to side, had a grave expression on my face and let out a couple of "tsk tsk". Instead I said "Oh! It isn't?". She turned around and stared at me. The eye-point transitioned through the eyeball stage and ended up in an eye-sun state. If scientist had peered into her eye with one of their instruments, they would have actually seen a couple of Hydrogen atoms making love to each other. It was so bright that I looked away. That's when I noticed her hand move. I cant call it a movement; more of a twitch. At that point, I realised what Peter Parker meant when he said "my spider sense was tingling". In my case, my sixth sense was hammering nails into my head. I took heed and stepped away and moved my body backwards. If life had a slow motion switch, people would have remembered Keanu Reeves from Matrix. The content of the mug flew through the air, missing my face by a whisker.

 

Nothing to worry about though. We are friends still. From time to time, we laugh about the incident. Of course, it was not exactly a happy ending. In the process of moving back, I fell onto a friend who was approaching me. He fell, broke a bone and ended up on the bed for three months. The prospect of spending three months on bed without going to office should have made him happy but his marriage got postponed by six months and this made him grouchy. Understandable, very understandable!