Tight spots

The security person directed my car to the right. As I stopped behind the red car, I realized that the car would drive away once its occupants had alighted it.  The occupants of the car were a colleague and her son. They were taking a few moments to get down. I was not in a hurry and sat listening to the words "crazy, crazy, crazy,...". I loved the song and did not want to get off the car till the crazy chanting ended. Soon, I realized that I the boy's floaters lay on the floor behind my seat. We had taken him to the hospital a few days earlier when he had broken his nose. More than a month had passed since that day but I had missed giving the floaters back to him. I got down from the car, opened the rear door, picked up the floaters, closed the door and walked up to the red car. I saw my colleague through the droplets of water on the foggy window. I knocked the window. She turned with a jerk and smiled on seeing me. I lifted up the floaters. She opened the door and thanked me with a sheepish grin as she took the floaters off my hand. I smiled and went back to my car. I got in and continued listening to the song. The occupants of the car got down but the driver did not move the car away. I got impatient and asked the security person to request the driver to take away the car. He went ahead and informed the driver to move away with a polite smile. The driver moved away the car and I went ahead and parked my car.

I got out of the car, took my bag, locked the car and walked away. As is usually the case, I took a few steps before turning around to look at my car. The car has been with me for more than twelve years and I care for it more than I should. This parting glance has become a part of our goodbye ritual every day. Usually, I give the car a quick glance and walk away but today something was out of place. I saw a few strands of grass sticking out from the side of the bonnet. To my amazement, the strands moved as I glanced away from the car. I looked back and sure enough found the grass moving. I realized that it was not moving in the wind but it was trying to wriggle out of the bonnet. Though I was a poor student of biology I possess sufficient knowledge in the subject to realize that grass does not attempt to wriggle out of tight places. I turned around and walked towards the car. As I approached the car, I realized that the grass like creature was a distant cousin of the actor who played the part of Mantis in Kungfu Panda. By this time, another colleague joined me in marveling the green insect struggling to get out of the tight spot. I wondered stupidly "If it could get in there, it can surely get out. Why is it struggling so much?" Fortunately, my colleague was smarter than I. He said "it must have blown in by the wind and now is stuck there. You should open the bonnet". The explanation seemed sound and I unlocked the bonnet. My friend said "Oh damn! It went inside. Let me take it out." He carefully picked up the Mantis and walked to the side of the road.

As he approached the fence by the side of the road, the Mantis got impatient and decided to wing it across the fence to a tree. My colleague tried to stop it by saying "Stop! Don't fly". But the Mantis did not pay heed either due to its lack of ears and/or due to its inability to understand language. The Mantis landed on one of the lower branches of the tree. Almost immediately a babbler babbled. Here I would like to exercise my bird brain for a moment. The babbler is a noisy bird that is noisier than a group of young children on a study trip. It is one of the birds other than the crow and mynah that I can identify. Oh! I forgot! I can also identify chicken especially when it served on a plate. 

The babbler was sitting a few branches above and jumped off its feathers when it saw the green object flying below. In a matter of seconds, the bird's brain informed the bird that it had prior knowledge of the green flying object and that this knowledge was filed under the section "FOOD". The babbler stopped babbling and sprung into action instantly. It pounced on the Mantis, which becoming aware of its precarious position jumped to the floor. I heard my colleague utter a painful "Oh no!" It was not the Mantis' lucky day. The babbler jumped to the ground and picked the struggling Mantis in its beak. I felt my colleague's pain in his voice when he said "Why did you fly away!" From somewhere within my head I heard Elton John sing "The Circle of Life". 

I smiled as I thought "and we thought we were doing the Mantis a favour".

1:11 AM to 1:52 AM

I swear

I swore

For I wear

A tear

In my gear

Which I fear

Is not clear

To the dear 

NOTE: The word dear is a compromise. I got tired of rhyming and decided to throw the dear into the worse (aka. verse). It would be interesting to note that I decided to write these words after I the second usage of a popular curse word below.  

So if you don't care for swear, 

I advise you to not proceed to the vice words below.

I find it difficult to maintain sanity and yet I am forced to act sane and yet people around me find a great deal of insanity in my sanity and yet they have no choice but to accept that I am sane. The fact that I am wide awake and writing these lines at 1:11 AM just four and a half hours away from my usual wake up time seems to be a sign of insanity and yet I believe that it is the world that is insane and my wakefulness is proof enough of my not being insane enough to fit into this insane world. But no one notices. They don't even have a faint idea of what a misfit I am. Everyplace I have been I seem like a perfect fit. It seems that there is no better place for me but its not true. No way! I don't fit here, there or anywhere and hence I find it easy to be anywhere. Can you see the logic? I don't fit in anywhere and so I can fit in anywhere. Everyplace is as good as the other. Of course, I utter such words only when I observe the half full part of the glass. But there are times when I see the half empty part of glass and I scream within my head "What the fuck am I doing here!" Pardon my language but that is what I scream. I wish I did not use that word and used "hell" instead. But I will not be true to my feelings if I used "hell" instead of the word I use. But I being where I am should not use that word. I feel terrible! Sorry, I was lying. I don't feel terrible. I am happy I uttered the word. It seems to have released some of the tension in my head. But not enough for me go back to bed. That's right, go back. I was tossing and turning in my bed when I suddenly decided that I cannot do this anymore. I had to get up and continue writing my latest travelogue. I wrote a few good words when I realized that I should be insane to be writing a travelogue at 1:12 am. I am sitting on a chair with the laptop on my dining table. Above my head an ellipsoid lamp is trying its best to light my room. But like me it is a misfit too. The bulb does not have enough Wattage to brighten the place. Suddenly I feel empathy for Lal Bahadur Shastri. Damn! That sentence was tough. I am not going to explain why I said that. That would be too convoluted and I have decided to only be convoluted tonight. No fucking too convolutedness tonight. Ooops! I did it again (not related to the song by Britney Spears). 

Four hours and ten minutes of sleep time left. That is only if I sleep now. 

I am not sleeping yet, which means I have less than four hours and ten minutes of sleep time left. Also, I am hungry. I did not have much of a dinner last night but that is not good enough a reason to feel hungry. I know there is food sitting in the refrigerator but I am not ready to mess my hands by touching food. Maybe I will drink some water and hopefully then I will be allowed to sleep for three hours and fifty two minutes. 

Before I go, I have to say why I started writing the above words. As I lay on my bed in desperate search of sleep the following words formed in my head "A head that is Messi will only create a world that is Ronaldo!" 

I can hear a bird crying "ko kooo" at some distance. It has been doing that for the past thirty minutes. 

It is not a pleasant "ko kooo" but a series of desperate "ko koooos" that start low prior to reaching the higher pitches and then going back to the lows. Another misfit in the vicinity in search of sleep that continues to elude.

Anything but a Marathon rant

The other day I saw a banner inviting people to take part in "Marathon run to stop child abuse". How does running a marathon help in stopping child abuse? The running usually happens early in the morning and through roads with little traffic or human presence. So the logic of the run being a mechanism to spread the required message does not work. I have a feeling this is similar to saving the environment drama that many indulge in. People are trying to convert a mundane activity done for one's own pleasure into something that seems socially responsible. Why can't we all be ordinary human beings whose primary goal in life is to save one's own backside? Maybe we should have a "Marathon run to stop all socially conscious marathon runs". 

A cricket ground

As I drive from my home to workplace, I pass a beautiful cricket ground, which is evenly covered with grass, except for the pitch, which is barren. Miraclously, the grass stays green through the year. Sometimes, I see two or three groundsmen working on the ground by cutting the grass and running the rollers over the pitch. The ground lies to my right as I drive from home and as a result lies on my left as I drive back home. However, I find it difficult to observe the ground on my return as it lies beyond a curve and as it is to my left, it is on the far side of the driver's seat. The field is called VB Nest. The VB in the name stands for V B Chandrasekhar who was a cricketer during the 80's and 90's. He played primarily for Tamilnadu and Goa in Ranji trophy matches. He had also represented India in a few one day international matches. Post retirement, he sponsored a team in the Tamilnadu Premier League, which resulted in him spending more money than he should have and it is believed that this forced him to end his life.

On a few days, I have seen a match being played on the ground with men dressed in whites focussing on a red ball by chasing, throwing and smashing it whenever it is in their proximity. At times, I have seen a person or two watching the match in progress from outside the fence. But yesterday, a large crowd of men was standing outside the fence and watching the match being played on the field. There were many in the crowd who had parked their vehicles by the side of the road to observe the happenings on the ground. I was surprised by the unusual presence of the crowd and was eager to determine its cause. When the cricket ground came to view I realized that the crowd was watching a group of young women playing a cricket match. I felt happy to see the encouragement this group of men was providing to women's cricket.

Troubled father

He waited outside the hall and watched his son through the windows. The son had his head down and was writing furiously. He smiled as he thought that his boy was writing his exam well. He was never comfortable with studying and examination but over the last few months he had at least accepted about not having about studying and writing examinations. Outside, a teacher was busy distributing corrected answer sheets to a set of students. A few of his son's classmates were collecting their papers from the teacher. He saw his son's name on the paper at the top of the corrected answer sheets. He craned his neck and attempted to read the marks on the paper but could not. He looked at the teacher annoyed. How can he distribute the answer sheets when the class is writing an examination and why are the children collecting the papers and not writing the examination? The scene reminded him of people selling tickets in black outside a cinema theatre.

He was sitting on a bench with a teacher when his son walked up to him. He could not identify the teacher but it seemed that he taught one of the subjects to his son. As his son sat opposite to him the teacher mentioned "You should do better the next time!" His son shook his head in acceptance and looked at him sheepishly. He could not remember the identity of teacher who had distributed the corrected answer sheets earlier but believed that it was probably this one. He looked at his son and asked "How much did you get?" His son responded "21". Embarrassment and pain flowed through his body and he said "You did not even pass! You should at least pass in all the subjects!" His son did not say anything. He asked to his son "Which subject?" and received the response "Kadhakali". He was shocked as he did not know that his son learnt kadhakali at the school. He looked at the teacher and wondered if he was the kadhakali teacher. In his modern attire, the teacher did not look like a kadhakali teacher.

He was standing in a queue with his wife and son. The queue was long and it was not obvious for an observer why the people were standing in the queue. His slipped his hand into the right pocket of his trousers and was surprised to find something that he did not expect to be there. He took it out and was shocked to see a small pistol. It was not his and he did not remember anyone giving it to him either. He looked at it for a moment and suddenly a thought struck him. He decided to rob the bank with the pistol. He got out of the queue and walked into the bank with his wife and son following him. He waved the gun and announced that he was robbing the bank. Someone laughed and said "With that!" He responded "Yes!" The person laughed again and said "That looks like a water pistol". He looked at the pistol concerned. He showed it to the ceiling and pressed the trigger. Everyone realized that it was not a water pistol.

He walked out of the bank in a hurry with his son and wife following him. No one tried to stop him. They went down the stairs and walked towards the door. As he walked out of the door, his way was blocked by a few cops running in. They looked at him for a moment but let him pass when they saw his wife and son. They walked out of the door and continued walking at a quick pace away from the bank. They turned left at an intersection and continued walking. They were in the commercial part of the city with shops and offices lining the sides of the road. They continued to walk briskly as policemen ran towards the bank. Soon they found themselves in a residential area. He did not know what to do. He looked at his wife and son. They looked back at him. He saw an autorickshaw approaching them. He asked his wife "shall we go to the railway station and leave?" He did not hear his wife's response. He waved at the autorickshaw but it did not stop.

They continued to walk. He tried to remember where he had kept the loot from the bank. He did not remember but somehow it did not matter. Once again they found themselves in the commercial area that they had crossed earlier. He decided to get into a hotel with his wife and son. When they went inside they realized that it was not a hotel but an office. The receptionist looked at them enquiringly. He did not tell her anything and she let them stay. They went up the stairs to the third floor and walked around the third floor reception. It was at that point that he realized the trouble he had pushed himself and his family into. The whole area was covered by CCTV, which would have captured all his actions. He looked at his wife and said "I will surrender to the police and take the complete responsibility. You stay out of this with our son." She did not say anything. He looked at his son and felt a pang of pain run through him. He realized that his son will not have his father for many years. He will miss his son. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks. He took hold of his son's palm and walked up to the glass partition that overlooked the road. He found a cop walking on the other side of the road holding a smartphone in each of his hands. He was requesting the passers-by to look at the screen of the phones and tell him something. One of the passers-by stopped to look at the screen. He then turned and pointed at the building to the policeman. To his shock, the policeman looked directly at him. He did not move but looked back at the policeman for a moment. He closed his eyes.

He opened his eyes, turned his head to the right and looked at his son.

Self-censor

I try and avoid vulgarity or use swear words in these write-ups. I am not sure how I came up with this pre-condition but I have held this to a great extent I can. However, a few time frustration got the better of me and I have used words and written thoughts I should not have had. The one given below is an example, of such a thought. I have removed it from the original article and have saved it for posterity here. 

"the meaning of everyone's life always begins inside two undergarments. In some cases, I wish some had continued to stay in one of those warm and moist places. It wouldn't have been very different from the tropical conditions they live in now"

Mind you, I am not a goody two shoes and all. Put me inside a car in city traffic and you will be amazed at the colourfulness of my language, in multiple languages too. Only yesterday, I enjoyed watching the movie '8 mile'. If someone decided to make a clean version of the movie, they would have ended up with a silent movie.

Let me end, by expressing my appreciation for the best bad movie I have seen till date (and I have seen quite a few, and in my opinion Govinda's 'Hero no: 1' is not a bad movie). The hero of the movie Bolo Yeung is also the director of the movie. Though I did not realize it when I watched the movie, he is the actor who fights against Van Damme in the climax of 'Bloodsport'. Bolo is ridiculous beyond words. The second half of the movie has large gaps in it. I could not stop watching the movie and only took a pause when some of my family members came back home. There is a small sequence during the climax fight, which is amazing.  Must watch, if you have the spherical objects used during playing games!

Me head's gone to dogs

I observed the passing of time by watching the second hand of my watch move second by second to a minute and then starting all over again. In the background words were being spoken. A few enter my brain through my ears while most reflect away and float around aimlessly. I preferred observing the passing of time than understanding the words uttered by the learned ones, who are learned enough to utter words on immense intelligence. I have come to a phase of my life where intelligence is of little use for me. I prefer the pointlessness of a string of words over profoundness. For example, Facebook threw the following at me yesterday.

How does spider man think of such witty comebacks?

Because with great power comes great response ability

Or for that matter, the following.

Me: Someone we know is possessed by an owl

Friend: Who?

Me: [narrows eyes]

And sometimes something like this.

Today a clown opened a door for me. I thought "Nice jester."

And during desperate times, the following.

What is Neil Armstrong's name in Tamil?

Nila Armstong, obviously.

As silly as the above statements sound, they have an inherent intelligence embedded within. Also, they are not profound enough to make one feel queasy. But for some reason, I find myself surrounded by people spouting statements filled to the brim with profoundness. For years there have been people around me uttering profoundness and I have desperately tried to understand them. But no! In some ways, they are important for evolution and they are in our midst showing kindness to the illiterate by revealing the meaning of life and all other nonsense embedded in it.

At times, I have tried to raise my own thoughts to the profound levels. Regardless of the words I used I found that thoughts remained mundane and ordinary. For a few years, I cheated myself into believing that my thoughts suffered due to my limited vocabulary. A few months back I realized that the problem was not with my vocabulary. My mind refused to move out of the mundane and the lower than mundane levels. Once I saw a dog excreting by the side of a road and I remembered reading an article a few years back, in the BBC, that dogs positioned themselves in the north-south direction when they attempted to defecate. But this dog was not positioned in the north-south direction. I started observing other dogs as they when through the defecation process. None of them were positioned in the north-south direction. As a result, an important question rose in my mind "Who is at fault? Did the publisher of the article pick too small a sample size? Or have the dogs in our country not been taught about defecating by positioning themselves in the north-south direction. As I think about it, I think the latter could be the reason. The dogs in our country too are stuck in the issue of illiteracy. Poor dogs".

You see the problem! My thoughts are stuck at the rear end of a dog. If you notice, the problem is not with vocabulary. I used the word 'defecate' instead of putting it plainly as 'shit'. So the problem is not with the vocabulary. It's the thought! How do I raise myself to profoundness? I am as close to profoundness as humans are to finding extra-terrestrial beings. The only silver lining in this cloud is that people have started mistaking my attempts at profoundness as humour. Every time I utter something profound they find me humorous or sarcastic and laugh their hearts out. They praise my "humour sense" and at times pat my back too. It's a good way to hide my humiliation but I try to hide my pride.

... skip - skip - skip - skip. One hour and 12 minutes since we started. Another God knows how many minutes for this session to end.

A charmer, on whose forehead I see the words profound written in 73 languages has started reading. I can't read all the 73 languages but the few language I can read have made me understand it is all profound and so the remaining 69 language should be referring to profound too. I sigh and look at him with envy. They are six or seven characters around who know everything about everything on this planet. They probably know what my thought was when I was twelve years, three months, two days, seven hour, fourteen minutes and sixteen seconds old. Not that they would be interested to know! The trick is not to let them look straight into your eyes. I usually look at the leaf of a tree that sways behind their head when I talk to them or they talk to me.

... skip - skip - skip - skip...

The issue was deeper than I thought. I was not just disinterested in the conversation but have started imagining that they were conversing on a topic interests me. They seemed to be talking about dogs! Not defecating dogs; even my imagination refuses to bring down their esteem to such depths.

DISCLAIMER: If the reader, if any, believes that I am a dog lover from my constant reference to dogs, I want to make it clear that I am not a dog lover. I don't hate dogs but I am not the type who hugs dogs and bring them home as pets. I remember having a dog at home when I was seven. I did not bring the dog home, my uncle did. I don't think any of the people at home, including the uncle who brought the dog home, were dog lovers either for they named the dog loda loda. It comes from the phrase "yenda loda lodannu satham podre?" ("Why are making the loda loda sound?"). But our roads are filled with dogs and one cannot help notice them and think about them.

To my ears. it seemed that the profound ones were discussing the cause for dogs chasing vehicles. Ehhh! May be not for my ears for ears don't think or understand or reach a conclusion. So it was probably my mind and not my ears. I think the conversation went thus.
"Why do dogs bark at vehicles and chase them?"
"By vehicles do you mean cars or buses or lorries?"
"Mostly cars, but at times vans and a few times buses too."
"OK! It's good to be specific."
"That's true! One has to be specific and not vague."
"Agreed! So do you mean cars or buses or vans or lorries."
"Let us consider cars first."
"Two wheelers too."
"Yes, yes! Two wheelers too. But let us limit our discussion to cars."
"It's dangerous for the rider of a two wheeler than the driver of a car."
"True, true! But let us limit our discussion to cars."
"Eh! What are we discussing?"
"We are trying to discern the reason for dogs barking and chasing cars."
"Which cars?"
"What do you mean 'which cars'?
"Do you mean small cars or mid-sized cars or luxury cars?"
"How is that important? I was only thinking cars."
"No. We cannot generalize. It is better to first look at the specifics before we move to generalization."
"I agree! The specifics might throw up details that we might miss otherwise."
"I have noticed that the dogs tend to focus on the car and not the driver. It does not understand that the driver is controlling the car."
"Hold on! Let us not jump the gun. Let us first decide the area of focus."
"True! We might end up missing the details."
"It is also true that the dogs are not very consistent. Some days they do not bark at a car but on other days they do."
"You mean they do not bark at the same car they had barked earlier."
"Yes! That queer."
"Wait, wait, wait, ..."
"Maybe dogs are moody."
"But hold on ..."
"Cats are moody and not dogs."
"Cats! Cats don't bark!"
"Of course not! Cat meow!"
"Is meow an accepted word in English?"
"Yes it is. Like caw-caw!"
"Caw-caw is not English."
"Wait a minute! Hold on! We are discussing about dogs chasing cars."
"Did we decide on which car? You see we might miss important insights if we do not discuss the specificity of the issue. We should not try to generalize too quickly."

The discussion had turned a corner and come back to where it started. I was hearing Elton John's "Circle of Life" and started to hum the tune. My neighbour stared at me. I asked her the reason for the stare by pulling up one of my eyebrows. She whispered "Your humming is too loud". I was shocked and asked "What! Are you following the discussion?" "Of course I am and you are distracting me. This is an important issue. So you should listen to." I did not consider dogs chasing cars to be an important discussion point but I could not tell her so for I was not sure if they were discussing about dogs and cars. Actually, I had no idea about the topic under discussion. I was stuck in a parallel universe that was truly ridiculous unlike this seriously ridiculous universe. I covered up with a "Hmmm! Aaaaah!" and looked at my watch. It screamed at me "Its five minutes since tea time." I shook my head at the watch. Obviously, it came from the other universe and had no idea about the profound thoughts being discussed. I whispered quite firmly to my watch "You better watch your attitude, watch. Tea is nothing but a hot drink but this conversation is important. They are not talking about dogs chasing cars. The implications of this discussion are important and it is imperative you do not disturb me. It is time you placed your impatience under watch, watch."

Tea time went by and lunch time was not in the distant future and yet the discussion has not come to an end. As a matter of fact the points under consideration were so profound that they have not even started discussing them. I look around the room and see 7.35 people sitting with their hands up in the air in an attempt to put forward their profound thoughts. I looked at the seriousness on their faces and felt the heat of their eagerness. I realized the topic under discussion was important and attempted to listen.
"What if the dog goes too close to the car?"
"Which car are you talking about? Small, midsize, large or luxury?"

I gave up! My mind, that is if I possess one, had gone to dogs and can never achieve anything profound. I looked at my watch and started discussing about the best tea shops in the country with it .

Nothing to do with flowers

On the side-lines of a journey, many forgettable events occur. A man of knowledge said many decades ago that nothing should be forgotten. For this reason I would like to record these peripheral events. These are not a factual descriptions but descriptions with a few embedded facts.

The way to our place of stay is simple. Take a left from the main road, go straight till the road forks. You will find a newly laid road on the right. Ignore that road and take the bad road on the left. Soon the road forks again. You will find a newly laid road on the right. Once again ignore that road and take the bad road on the left. A little later you will reach another fork. The road on the left will be a really bad road. Take it and you will reach your destination in ten minutes. 

Boundaries don't exist in a dormitory. One cannot even claim ownership of the bed one sleeps on. But some of the residents of our dormitory did not believe or even know this. One could hear them shouting across the hall. "Why are sitting on my pillow man?" or "Hey! You are sitting on my bed in your undergarments. How disgusting!"

Dormitories have common bathrooms which are usually a few minutes away from it. If a person realizes he/she has forgotten his/her towel once he/she has entered the bathroom then all he/she can do is to call out "Hey! Get me my towel. It’s the orange one". This call for help results in a few enthusiastic souls running around searching for the orange towel. Soon one of them announced "I found it". As he took the towel off the rope another person ran up to him crying "that's my towel". But the enthusiastic searcher did not accept this objection. The owner of the towel tried snatching the towel and a tug of war ensued. A friend of the towel's claimant came to his help by saying "it is his". The searcher loosened his hold of the towel and shouted to the person in the bathroom "but there are no other orange towels here". He got a response immediately "sorry, sorry, sorry! I brought a pink towel". The orange towel's owner shouted in confusion "What! Have you been using my towel?" He was relieved by the response "No da! I got confused." The searcher were offended and said "What da! You don't even know the colour of your towel."

Spiderman is the second most popular super hero among the new generation. But the reason for the Spiderman being a Spiderman is not popular among many of this generations. The web of the spider is valued more than the spider itself. As long as the spider is less than 3 millimetres long, no one cares about it. But just the sight of the bigger spiders invoke terror in many. Frankly, I too find a big spider terrifying. Someone screamed "spiiiddddeeeerrrrr" from one of the bathrooms. The occupants of the other bathrooms screamed back "where?". The first screamer responded "in my bathroom! On the wall!" The others lost their interest and responded with a disinterested "oh!" The first screamer continued "it's huge". After a few minutes, the first screamer's neighbour asked "has it gone?".

"No! It’s not moved an inch."

"But has it moved a centimetre?"

"Of course not! It has remained stationary."

Songs were an integral part of this trip. Usually we started the day with a set of songs sung by the group. Over the past couple of years, I have come to appreciate the calm that singing brings onto oneself and have enjoyed such singing sessions. In the dormitory, the day started with one of its occupants singing "vinayagane vinai theerpavane". The singer cannot be compared to Sirkazhi but had a good voice but it was definitely not the first note that the other occupants of the room wanted to hear in the morning. They cried out "Stop!" and "Please don't do this" but morning after morning this song reverberated through the insides of the room. Another occupant loved singing the song "naane varuven" from the Tamil movie "Yaar Nee" in the afternoon. The singing of this song did not send a shivers down anyone's spine voice. On the contrary everyone in the room laughed for the singer's  voice sounded cute. Instead of the ghost in the movie (played by our very own Amma when she was a few decades away from becoming Amma), the singing reminded us of Casper, the friendly ghost. As I think about it, it is a good song to be played as one lay down for a quick afternoon sleep.

I watched the driver turning the steering wheel ferociously as the van sped through the narrow roads. Actually, the van was not speeding but the road was only one van broad and at places it had potholes. So the 30 kmph seemed like 60. At the turns the driver honked enough to wake a person in Cincinnati. On taking the fifteenth turn, he looked at the person sitting beside me and said "I have to be careful at the turns. These fellows on the two wheelers don't slow down." This opening statement resulted in the following conversation between the driver and my neighbour with my neighbour responding thus to the driver.

"The bushes by the side of the road have grown a lot. They obstruct the view. Now that we have a Panchayat, they should trim the bushes."

"I don't think they will do anything."

"They are taking charge today."

"But our people have chosen a crook as the head."

"I have heard people say that about him".

"He is a contractor who is used to paying commission for everything. He did the same during the elections too."

"Oh! Is it?"

"He paid 500 rupees per vote. The people accepted the money and voted for him. Now he will not do anything for the place and no one can question him."

"Why?"

"He has paid them already and the votes were given in return. They have no right to expect anything more."

"He must have spent plenty of money in the process."

"Of course. He has spent 15 lakhs to win the elections. Now he has to earn the money in the next few years."

"Poor people!"

"Not really! The people had a choice. One of the candidates is a good person.  He is a kind and supportive person and everyone likes him. But he refused to give money during the elections. So no one voted for him. The people deserve it!"

"That's sad!"

The village roads are happening places. Children play on the road or simply run across it. Many food items are dried under the sun. People sit in a line or a circle and talk. I once saw a set of women sitting by the side of narrow road on their bonds or bands (the equipment used to carry mud or rubble on their heads - it's pronunciation is between bond and band in Tamil. I have no idea what it is called in English). The driver of the approaching van could not have missed seeing them but he did not slow down. The women did not seem too concerned either. When the van reached near them, they only moved the top part of the body away from the van. Once the van crossed, they went back to their conversation. The vehicles disturb the animals more than humans. The dogs and hens consider the road as their home and a passing vehicle usually disturbs their peaceful lives. But the dogs and hens react differently to an approaching vehicle. The hen stands clucking and pecking the ground ignoring all occurrences around till the vehicle is a few metres from them. They then turn around, give a wild stare at the vehicle and run off its track wildly. It reminds me of the phrase "Run! The sky is falling on our heads" In reality, the hens scream "Entammo rakshikane!", which inadequately translates to "Oh my god!". On the other hand the dogs are nonchalant about the approaching vehicle. One of the dogs I observed, turned around and looked at the van some 10 metres away. It sat down on the ground and let the van slow down to deal with the road bump. By the time the front wheels crossed the road bump, it had started scratching its back. It was not even looking at the bus when the rear wheels crossed the bump. As the van reached the two metre mark from the dog, it let out a sigh, got up calmly and strolled to the side of the road. The distance between the van and the end of the dog's tail was probably 3 or 4 centimetres as the van went by.

The driver of the van had the habit of talking on the mobile while driving. He seemed to be the busiest person on the planet. It was Sabarimala season and vans were in demand. So he could not spare one moment and hence spent even his driving time talking to customers and van drivers. During the calls, he used his left hand to drive. The situation was dangerous and one of us decided to give him a suggestion to help him. 

"Why don't you get a bluetooth headset?"

"Oh! That is of no use."

"It sure is. You can use both the hands to drive and talk over the bluetooth headset."

"Oh! Bluetooth headset is a fad."

"No it isn't! Many people use it, especially while driving."

"But what will people say!"

"What have people got to do with it! It's your and our lives at stake!"

"I mean, people will say that I am showing off with such fancy items."

"You got to be kidding me. What you are doing is dangerous! You cannot drive with your phone in one hand. This is not acceptable."

The driver remained silent and avoided using the phone during the remaining part of the journey.

As mentioned previously, it was Sabarimala season and all the vans were used by devotees. Once we went to a particular spot in a van. When we came back an hour later, we found that van had transformed itself into another van. We asked the driver “what happened to the other van?” He responded "Oh! That one went to Sabarimala." One of the members of our group said "Oh no! I left my book in the van." The driver responded "You are very fortunate then. The book is on its way to Sabarimala and will return as a holy book." The person who had lost the book did not appreciate the comment.

On the way back from a farm, we crossed a temple. We had alighted nearby three days ago. We were a few hundred metres from our place of stay and had to walk in darkness through narrow lanes. Each house had a dog guarding it and the dogs barked at us vehemently and persistently. In the darkness, we did not notice the Government school opposite to the temple then. As we walked by the school that afternoon children of various ages ran out to look at the differently attired children from the city. They observed the group of students walking by and at times whispered to each other. A little boy standing quietly in the front pointed at one of the girls and shouted "Aiyo! Vellakari" and ran away. The girl looked at him annoyed. She expressed her displeasure to her friend "What is wrong with these kids? Yesterday as we looking at the flowers by the road, two kids jumped out of the bush screaming 'Vellakari' and ran away. They are so annoying."

As I was going towards the bus, a passerby stopped me and said "You look like a college professor. I have a question for you." I said "I am not a college professor." He said "OK! The roots of the plants start rotting once the flowers start blooming. Why does that happen?" I was not sure what to tell and so uttered "Ehhh!" "Tell me! It is a big problem." I responded "I don't know. I have to check." "But you are a college professor. You should know!" "No, I am not a professor. Sorry!" The man looked at me for a moment before walking away shaking his head in disappointment.

The dam was a disappointment. To start with it was not one of those humongous dams with large gates. This one was more like a bridge with gates to control the flow of water. Also the dam had little water flowing underneath. A few men rolled in the film of water. At various points on the bridge graffiti were scrawled on the walls. A few of the graffiti praised RCB and Virat Kohli. In one of them, Kohli was written as கோli. The graffiti SS King was repeated at a number of places. We wondered what SS stood for and I decided that it stood for Stainless Steel. A pair of denim pants lay inside the water. As the water ran through the pants, it bloated and gave the eerie appearance of it containing the bottom part of a human body.

I was told that the paalkhova or paaltheratti at Vinayaka Sweet Shop is heavenly. It is believed that on Tuesday nights Indradevan comes down disguised from Devalokam to taste this sweet. As per the scriptures, this paaltheratti mixed with amrudham is the preferred dessert for the gods in the evening. Though I had not tasted the paaltheratti, I did not doubt the veracity of these claims. On the third day of the trip, I found myself walking into the Vinayaka Sweet Shop. It looked more like a bakery than a sweet shop and I hence was surprised by the reputation it had garnered. I found the god loved sweet sitting in a plastic box on top of the counter. I ordered a kilo of the sweet and looked at the other items in the shop. One of the sweets caught my attention. It was something that I had not seen for many years. Emotions of various sorts started running through different parts of my brains. The emotions resulted in my brain triggering my saliva glands. My appearance must have seemed similar to a dog drooling at a bone for the shop keeper asked if I wanted to have a taste of the sweet. I could not open my mouth and talk. My brain had lost its ability to control my vocal chords. Besides the saliva swishing inside my mouth threatened to spew out the moment I opened my mouth. So I shook my head in acceptance. He picked a few of the small coloured balls and placed them on my extended palm. I took one of the balls and admired it for a moment before placing it in my mouth. It tasted sweet and also had the fragrance of sweet. I am not sure but I probably uttered an ecstatic "mmmmmmmm". The sweet brought back a few sweet memories of my younger days. I think my grandparents used to buy this sweet from a restaurant near Children's theatre near Mount Road and I think the restaurant was called Hotel Annapurna. I took my time to savour each of the sugar coated sweet ball. When I realized that my palm was empty I looked up at the shopkeeper with sadness in my eyes. The shopkeeper being a kind man, placed some more sweet balls on my palm. I thanked him with a smile and continued my sugary  journey into my past.

I have come to the conclusion non-vegetarian unlike vegetarians have gradations. I believe there is scope some research in this area and to set the ball rolling, I will try and categorize non-vegetarians.

WARNING: GORY DESCRIPTIONS AHEAD - If you are person who feels queasy when someone utters “non-vegetarian”, you are advised to skip the remaining part of this section. 

1. Forever: The non-vegetarians in this category require a dead creature on their plate for every meal.

2. Periodic: These folks love the phrase "once in a ..." and would love to eat creatures once in a week or once in three days or once a fortnight or... Well! You get the idea.

3. Variety: The people in this category also belong to one of the above two categories. As the name suggests, the Variety-non-vegetarians love variety. So they are constantly on the lookout for places that serve cat or crow biryani or snake machurian or crab masala or shark puttu or deep fried reindeer. This group could also be referred to as "Wide".

4. Bird lovers: I would have preferred to refer to this group as "Chickens" but the that term would seem derogatory to some. These people love to eat chicken and its egg. They would belong to either category 1 or 2 above. Some of members of this group shudder on hearing the words "red meat".

5. Outliers: This group consists of vegetarians or more probably eggetarians who usually pose as non-vegetarians.  To clarify, eggetarians are not non-vegetarians. They are vegetarians who eat egg. The persons in this category usually lie at the periphery of the non-vegetarian world and usually consume a small piece of chicken when they go out with their non-vegetarian friends.

The persons in the Forever category struggle to survive during a strictly vegetarian trip. Their mental condition degrades in the following manner as the trip proceeds.

1. Day 1: Everything's fine. The brinjal sambhar tastes good and the bitter gourd poriyal is not bitter at all. They usually end the day, feeling good about themselves.

2. Day 2: Everything's fine till dinner. At dinner time, they try to convince others that egg is an integral part of vegetarian cuisine.

3. Day 3: Tears start appearing in the seam. They start the day demanding egg omelette for their idlis. They clamour for egg based dishes through the day. 

4. Day 4: Bursting at the seams. At breakfast they discuss loudly with their fellow table mates about the cruelty of not serving eggs for breakfast and how in reality chicken based dishes are actually  vegetarian dishes. The discussions take place at every meal and in between too.

5. Day 5: Resignation to cruelty of destiny. They continue the behaviour of day 4 but their craving for flesh has crossed all limits of good behaviour for they start licking their lips and look longingly at every passing chicken/goat/buffalo (not cow).

6. Day 6, 7, 8, ...: Usually the same behaviour as in day 5 with occasional spells of sighing and crying. I don't have data on how long this behaviour can continue without further degradation of senses.

This trip too had a few persons belonging to the first category and they displayed all the behaviours explained above. Their rantings tended to be harsher than usual due to the presence of many Chettinad restaurants in the vicinity making barottas besides the road. Once one of the young but promising members of this category shouted in a voice dripping with frustration "thirumbi poyi, mavane, pathu aade vetta poren!"  

All the happenings of a journey cannot be captured in writing. I mean it can be but I don't think it is necessary to capture and in some cases it is best not to write them all down. But some of the incidents written above are enough to remind me of those unwritten events. So I think this is a good place to stop.