I hate...

I hate working. No, that's not it. That's something I believed was true but I don't think it is. That does not mean I like working. Nope, that will be a stretch. I don't like to work but I don't hate it either. So, why did I think of that first sentence? Was I hallucinating? No, I was in a hurry. In that small sentence lies a truth that didnot emerge as the sentence was incomplete. I have to add two more words to it. So here goes...

I hate working in corporate... 

Ah! I need to clarify something here. The term "corporate" that I have used above and that I will use a a number of times below refers to companies, particularly those in the IT industry. So, to reiterate...

I hate working in corporate. But I have spent more than 85% of my life working in corporates. So, the question is why have I spent so much time in corporate when I hate working in it? Worse, why am I  working in it still? The answer's simple, straightforward. It only contains one word. Money! There is a sensational amount of money to be earned in corporates and though money can't buy me love, love, in general, is overrated unless, one is talking about the universal brotherhood, sisterhood, friendhood, familyhood, robinhood kind of love (Note: the 'r' in robinhood is in lowercase to signify that it is a verb and not a noun). That said money can buy everything else. So I have emerged myself... No, not emerged, it's submerged. I have submerged myself in corporate for most of my life and I would be lying if I don't say I like the feel of having a healthy bank balance and stretching out my credit card to buy those pair of Sketcher shoes that I don't need.

So, the situation is complex! I love the money that corporate provides but I hate being a part of the corporate jungle. But what is the reason for this hate? The root cause for the hate is also money. Note the use of the corporate phrase 'root cause'. I hate that phrase. It is used everywhere. Every leader in every organization wants to find the root cause of something or the other. One of the main responsibilities of a leader is to motivate his or her team to find the root cause of something or the other at least three times a week. But what is a root cause? It depends! Depend on what? Depends on whom actually. It depends on the person whom you are trying to placate with the root cause. The idea is that once the root cause is found, a similar situation at a later point of time would not result in a need to find the root cause again. But in most cases, a root cause not being the actual root cause results of a situation results in the situation arising again. But interestingly,  the root cause determined in this repeated situation could be completely different from the original root cause. Ultimately root cause is a set of words that helps a set of people to move on from the line of fire caused by some mess up done by them or others.

I have gone off the topic. At this point I will try to amuse you with a few lines from the Whitesnake song 'Here I go again'.

Here I go again on my own

Going down the only road I've ever known

Like a drifter, I was born to walk alone

And I've made up my mind

I ain't wasting no more time

Ok, getting back to my dislike for corporate. The reason for both working in corporate and hating it is money. But why is that? Some of the highest paying jobs on the planet are in corporate. This means that the 8 or 10 hours of work that I put in every day gives me more than enough money to live comfortably.  Though the work is mentally taxing,  there are no discomforts physically. In a sense, I work a lot less than most working people on the planet and I earn a lot more. I remember, many years back a person telling me that software engineers work the hardest and they are not paid enough. He said that on a tuesday evening at 5 pm. He had come home from office at 3 pm and had taken a not so brief nap. At that time, he was sitting in a centrally air conditioned apartment in Texas. My friend and I felt offended by this statement. We too were living in similar comfort and we knew we were lucky to be there. We had no thoughts about us being a part of the most hard working people in or from India. There were a few days when we worked hard. Even then we worked a lot lesser than the people who sold pani puri by the side of a road or pulled carts.  

The second reason for my working in corporate for money comes from experience. A couple of years before COVID struck, I started working at a school as teacher. I was aware that my salary at the school would be low and I knew how low it will be. Yet, I  felt shocked when I saw the number that denoted my salary in the appointment letter.  It was the same as the number on my appointment letter from a big software company 22 years earlier. But, that did not stop me from jumping into the world of learning excitedly.  The next six years were the best and worst years of my life. Worst years financially and best years personally. I lost an incredible amount of money during those six years. Yet I  worked really hard. I have not worked that hard since nor had I worked that hard earlier. It was very satisfying. But I was in a financial mess by the end of the fifth year and I had to get back to corporate. At first I worked part time but within a year I realized I would not be able to live for long working at two places. So with a heavy heart I left the job I loved to do and went back to making money.

So, why is money the problem when working in corporate? Corporates function on a simple principle. Make a that lot of money now and ensure a lot of money is made tomorrow, the day after, the day after the day after, the day after the... If we don't, we are doomed. So the corporate lives with the insecurity that there is a good possibility that we will run out of money soon. As a result, we have to ensure that we run around looking for money like ants searching for food. But isn't that how we live, in general? Make money for my family's and my own today's needs. If that is achieved, plan for the expenses that might arise in the immediate and distant future. So, there is no living in the now. If life is the same why is it annoying when it comes to corporate? Well, in the personal realm most of these needs come from inside but in corporate it comes from outside. More importantly, in the corporate environment many hours are spent in discussing all this in formal meetings. 

There is another subtle difference. In the personal realm, a certain amount of money flows in and a person's responsibility is to ensure that this amount meets his or her today's and tomorrow's need. In a sense there is some guarantee that a certain amount will flow in and the idea is to manage life within that amount. But in a corporate this guarantee does not exist. Also, unlike a family, the corporate tends to spend more as the flow of money increases. Damn! None of this sounds true. Families spend a lot more than the inflow of money. I have landed in a tight corner. The issue I have with corporate is not justmoney. Money is a part of it but it is a lot more than just money. It's insecurity. 

Corporates are swamped with insecurity.  This comes out as many lacks - lack of money, lack of time,  lack of people, lack of customers,  lack of partners, lack of security, lack of... The whole system is driven by insecurity.  The thought that if we don't do this now, we are doomed. Is that a problem? It is for me. The problem is with the the word 'this'. That 'this' is not a simple this. It is more a 'that' than 'this'. By that, I mean, the 'this' is set so high that it seems like a 'that' than 'this'. I will use an example to make this and that clear. Say, a person taking part in high jump has the ability to jump 6 feet. But his or her ambitious coach sets the bar at 8 feet or even 7 feet and says "if you don't jump that high, we are doomed." This seems to me as setting the athlete up for failure but for many it may seem like a goal and goals are good. Well not necessarily but that is a topic for another day. The high jumper tries and jumps well but does not cross the 7 or 8 feet bar. The coach gets furious and berates the high jumper, who gets demotivated and his enthusiasm towards high jump reduces, maybe by a bit but reduces anyway. Who benefits from this situation? No one. But this is the attitude in a corporate. 

The issue I have with this situation is not the setting of the bar at 7 or 8 feet. That is setting an ambitious goal, which per se is not an issue. The issue is the feeling we are or will be doomed, if we don't jump that height now! Why? How does it matter? Why use this scare tactic to motivate? Is that motivation at all? When the jumper does a good but not good enough jump, everyone feels unhappy. The appreciation of the attempt is lost. This effort could have become better over time and led to success. But no, that is not the intent. The intent seems to be "I know what is good for us. I don't care about your thoughts on this. If you don't achieve what I want you to achieve, you are doomed, you are a failure." Of course, in most of these cases there is the underlying motivation that achieving this will make you rich. This is especially true in corporate.

A few days back,  I ran into a nasty bug. It was a new module and the bug had to be solved immediately.  The project lead called me and said "This is important. Get it done immediately." I panicked and fell under Claude's spell. I wasted time and the pressure increased. One Wednesday evening, the project lead called and said "if you don't finish it by tomorrow, the CEO will put us in front of a firing squad." But those words did not do anything other than increasing the pressure. Each time I ran the test, it took 8 hours for the test to reach the issue. So, the going was slow. I panicked, Claude hallucinated and I lived like a zombie under its spell. I spent 5 days solving an issue that only required 0.5 days. The ultimate solution came by on the Tuesday after the Friday when we were supposed to be shot. Today's Thursday and the issue is not completely solved but no CEOs are talking to me or anyone else about it. The project should have ended in February. We are now in August but the end is at least 2 months away. That is good as this means I make money for another two months at least. But the pressure of we are delayed, do it now, seems unnecessary.  But corporates thrive on this feeling. It's an artificial battlefield. There are no guns or bombs but the fear of getting hurt lurks around at every moment. 

Why? Can't we relax and immerse ourselves in the pleasure of solving issues? The thrill of finding an issue and solving it is incredible to live through. So is the thrill of coming up with an algorithm  or the thrill of learning something new, regardless of its size. Work in corporate is fun but the atmosphere and the people who run it are not. The constant insecurity and the constant feeling of lacking something,  makes life in corporate miserable. The mentality of the leaders when dealing with work makes working in corporate annoying. I guess it is for this reason that I have never been a CEO. The lack of insecurity and the need to be happy at all times makes me unfit for execution in corporate.

I guess I am not cut out to make millions!

Salty cooks

 He picked the call and said "Hey, what a surprise!" She responded "I need blood." He did not quite know how to respond. So he asked "What, you are turning into a vampire?" She laughed  and said "Last weekend I was watching Lokah and I had a premonition that I will be hungry for blood." He responded "Oh! Shouldn't I be concerned about this. What happened?" Once again she laughed and said "No, it's best to keep it light.  The baby sucked off a lot of my blood and now i am hunting the blood banks for O positive blood."  He laughed and said "Oh! O positive like Neeli." She corrected him "Neeli preferred O negative." He said "Ah ok! I don't remember. Hey, BTW I am O positive. Which hospital should I come?" She asked "What did you drink last night?" He responded promptly "Scotch, four pegs, on the rocks." She said "Oye bevde! I don't want my baby to be born drunk. He will be like Obelix, only high, not strong." He felt disappointed "Damn! You should have informed me yesterday then ..." She interjected "Listen I did not plan this shit, ok? My maid found me unconscious on my bed this morning  and brought me to the hospital." He felt shocked. He asked "Why can't you stay with your mother? This is dangerous." She responded "No. Just two more months. My parents will eat my head if I go there. This is fine. My maid will take care. Before I forget, please send your non-bevda trustworthy O positive friends. I need blood." He agreed "Ok. Send me the hospital's address.  I will come by." "Sure, sure. Ok. Gotta go" she said before cutting the call.

He shook his head and said "That girl will kill herself if she does not watch out." He looked up and saw the cook add a small spoonful of salt into the vessel of sambhar. He spontaneously shouted "Be careful with the salt." The cook turned around and looked at him menacingly. She said "Why are you telling me that? Are you telling me that the food I make is salty." He cursed silently and said " No, no. That is not what I meant. It is good to be careful with salt." She protested "I know that and I am always careful with the salt." He had no choice but to back off further "I don't mean you add too much salt. I am just asking you to be careful." She did not let go of the topic. "Do you say this to that cook who comes in the morning?" He became defensive " Of course, I told her the other day when she was making the kootu kari." She was livid by this time. "Have you seen the way she cleans the vessel? Look at this." He felt nervous seeing her walk toward him with a knife in hand. He said "What is it? Why do have the knife?" She extended a cooker whistle and started poking it's insides with the knife. She took out the knife and extended it toward him saying "Look at this. Rice! How old do you think this rice is?" He could not help but ask "From the Sangam era maybe?" His wife, who was observing the scene from a distance reminded him "This is not the time to act smart. She has a knife in her hand." She then looked towards the cook and said "It is ok ma. We will ask her to the wash properly tomorrow." But the cook was not convinced "She will not wash well. She is always in a hurry. I will do it."

Thirty minutes later she brought each of the washed vessel to him for inspection. Every time she said "See how clean this is? Does she clean like this?" Every time he said "It's clean, it's clean. You don't have to show it all to me." But she spent nearly 15 minutes showing each vessel and he had no choice but to inspect and comment on each of them.  When she had displayed all her achievements, she left abruptly. He looked at his wife and asked "What's wrong with her?" She responded "Well, she proved her worth with salt." He said "I don't understand what you mean." She agreed "Nor do I."

The next morning, he was reading the morning newspaper when his wife walked up to him holding a small flower vase. She asked "Where did you get this?" He responded "Your mother gave it saying that it was a gift you received from a friend. She discovered it when she was cleaning the house." She looked at the vase with disgust and said "Friend! What friend! The fellow was trying to propose to me." He put down the paper "What? Who? When?" She said "Relax! This happened in college many years back. He was junior. I told him he is barking up the wrong tree." He felt irritated "Barking up the wrong tree! Where do you get such phrases from? Its all those P G Wodehouses that you read." She clarified "I mean I said I was not interested." He said "I know." She said "You don't have to bring P G Wodehouse into this." The door bell rang before he could respond. She opened the door and the morning cook walked in angrily.

The cook stared angrily at him and asked "Why are you telling everyone that I cook badly? You could have told me directly if you had an issue." He looked at her blankly and said "I did not tell anyone that you cook badly." She countered "The watchman told me." His confusion increased "I have never talked to the watchman about your cooking." She said "He told me just now. He was supposed to get me a new job but he said that he will not as you said I don't cook well." He protested "I have never talked to the watchman about you or your cooking." She persisted "But you told the evening cook that and she told the watchman." 

"I have never talked to the evening cook about your cooking."
"You did yesterday."
"No, I did not."
"You did. The watchman told me."
"Now, how can the watchman know that?"
"Well, he told me that the evening cook told him that you told her that I cook badly."
"What! There are too many tolds in what you said. Explain clearly who said what to whom."
"What?"
"What exactly did the watchman tell you?"
"He said that you told the evening cook that I cook badly."
"I did not tell her that. End of story."
"But you said I put too much salt in the kootu curry."

He struck his palm on his head in frustration and asked "Why did you not tell that earlier?"
"Ah! So you did tell her that?"
"No, I did not!"
"But you just said you did."

"No, I did not. I asked why you had not said so earlier. That does not mean I told the evening cook that you added too much salt to the kootu curry. Wait, let me tell you what happened." He spent the next minute in recounting the incidents of the previous evening. He wisely left out the part about the evening cook complaining about the morning cook's inability to wash vessels properly. At the end of the narration, the cook said "So, this is what happened! That evil lady changed the whole story. I will not let this pass. I am going to give her a good shouting. Wait! I will get the watchman. You tell him the story. Please, I want that new job." She walked out of the house to get the watchman. He looked at his wife who was laughing at him and said "Don't laugh!" She responded "But this is funny. You have to talk to the watchman and in the evening you have to talk to the cook who will once again talk to the watchman who will talk to this cook and this story will never end." Once again he struck his palm on his forehead and said "What nonsense is this! Let us get rid of all these cooks. I will cook from now on." She agreed "That is a good idea. That way you can control the salt in the food."

Taps!

Tap, tap, tap
Who taps?
Taps!

Who taps?

We Taps!

Tap?

No, Tap, Tap and Tap.

We Taps!

Oh! Ah! Taps!

Yes, Taps!

But here?

Yes, here.

Right here?

Right by Target. 

Taps?

Yap, Taps.

But, what you doing here?

Tap-tapping you.

Can I tap you back?

Yeah tap us.

But, I would rather pat.

Not too hard we hope.

A little hard?

No!

If not, pat becomes tap

We are Taps.

So?

So tap and don't pat.

Tap, tap, tap!

In my head

I don't remember why... No! I remember now. We were talking about having an AI/Tech themed Halloween this year. I wondered how it will be to have a poster of a robotic skeleton rise from its grave. Now, that we live in a world where imagination is not limited to one's head, I immediately realized this thought on 'paper'. I opened ChatGPT and asked it to create an illustration on this theme. It thought for a few minutes and came up with an illustration.

It was not bad but it was not impressive. It looked like a version of terminator. Inside my head I only had the picture of a metallic skeleton arm protruding from a grave marked by a grave stone. This illustration did not even have a grave stone. I was disappointed but was not interested in refining the illustration. Interestingly, something else caught my attention.

Underneath, the illustration ChatGPT volunteered to provide captions. I accepted the offer and soon, ChatGPT gave captions in the following flavours.

1. Dramatic / Cinematic
2. Philosophical / Futuristic
3. Minimalist / Chilling
4. Tech-Horror Style
5. Poetic / Symbolic

The captions sounded interesting. They seemed poetic. It reminded me of lines from the song 'Iron man' by Black Sabbath. I looked at the lines for a few seconds and rearranged them. The resulting lines looked like this.

Born of metal,
Buried in silence,
Awakened by code.
When machines learn to defy death,
Even the dead circuits remember their code.
From the ashes of silicon, it rises again.
Resurrection: Version 2.0!

A few days later my dark life turned darker. No, that's not it. My life's not dark. There is much to be hopeful for but large parts of it was filled with darkness. Usually light eats into darkness but inside my head darkness chews into the light. So at all points of time happiness and excitement gets shadowed by darkness. 

After a good day, I woke up the next day to a set of painful reminders from the great beyond. I felt so frustrated and tired that the ghost of Layne Stanley got into to me. This probably resulted in the following lines. 

I am in the dumps 

And yet i laugh

Being silly

Making others laugh

And through it all

I remember

My life's a dump

With unknowns

Popping in all the time

And knowns turning

Unknown all the time

Isn't it a joke? 

Isn't it funny?

- Chained Alice 

Chippy chirps

Note from the writer: The views presented below are not the writer's. The writer is only recording some of the traumatic words that he underwent a few days back. Of course, not everything mentioned below are uttered by the utterer but some of them are. As a result, the writer believed that these words had to be saved for the posteriety to remember that such people existed. The writer wishes to add that such people existed, they exist now and they will continue to exist. So don't be traumatized by their words!

Once I was sitting under a tree. What? No, it was not a mango tree. This is US, not India. There are no mango trees here. What you mean there are mango trees here? Oh! Never mind. I mean I have never seen a mango tree in America. So, no it was not a mango tree. What? What do you mean which tree? I have no idea which tree it was. This happened 15 years back. So even if I knew which tree it was, I would not remember it. Besides I am not a zoologist. What now? What do you mean zoologist study animals and not trees? I mean isn't that what I said? I am not a zoologist. You saying the same, which means we agree. Why are you interrupting me? I am saying something important here. Something meaningful. Do not interrupt me. Let me go on, ok? Ok.

As I was saying I was sitting under a tree. Maybe it was an oak tree. What? I should not guess the tree. Ok, I won't. Ok? You happy? It was a tree, some tree, any tree, ok? Ok. Anyway, I was sitting under a tree. Actually more like lying down when a thought struck me. Not literally. I mean it was not like a ball striking me. It was just a thought that occured to me. From out of nowhere. Literally out of nowhere I got the thought that I prefer to work with Tamlyans. They are better to work with than any other people on this planet. You want to know why? Yes? Say yes, ok? Ok. You know why I prefer to work with Tamlyans? Because they are not troublemakers.  I trust those Tamlyans. You know what they say about the Tamlyans in this country? You don't? I will tell you what they say. They say "We trust the Tamlyans as they will not steal our land, our money or our women? We trust them." They don't trust no Punjabi hunks like me. But they trust the Tamlyan. That's why I too trust the Tamlyan. 

Yeah, ok? OK! Let us talk about business now. Blah, blah, blah, cost, blah, blah, blah, skill, blah, ...

Wait a minute! I got to tell you this. The Prime minister of India sent my wife a Happy Independece Day email. But he did not send it to me. I know, I know, I know he did not send it personally. It is sent by one of those Indian Government departments but it is signed Narendra Modi. He sent it to her and not to me. What? I have no idea if she signed into some Indian government website or not. But how can it be dependent on signing up in websites? I am as much as Indian as she is. So I should receive the Happy Independence Day mail with the prime minister's signature too. I know, I know, I know we are American citizens but we are Indians too. So, it is my independence day too and I should receive the mail too. It's unfair that only she got it and not me. Oh! Never mind, let us get back to business.

Blah, blah, blah, ...

So, guys send me the information about your company and I will see how we can work together. I know a lot of people at high places because they all belong to a particular religion. You know what I mean. So, I will go to the people in the high places and make sure you guys get a lot of business. I love you guys. I really want to work with Tamlyans like you. Yeah? OK? Cool! You guys have a good one. Take it easy! 

A series of thoughts and events

I don't like sitting through meetings. Meetings have too many people talking for too long on matters that don't deserve that much time. I once asked a professor why he chose to be a professor. He responded "I guess I like to hear me speaking". That is true for people who speak regularly during meetings. I once wrote about a person who starts speaking 5 minutes before the planned end time of the meeting and went on for 20 minutes. I guess he was obsessed at having the last word. Unfortunately his last word contained too many words and most of us did not listen to a word of what he said. It gives me great happiness to say that I no longer work with him. 

This write-up took birth in a meeting. As is usually the case, 10 minutes into the meeting, boredom set in. It was an event where emotions were flowing around profusely and it would have been rude for me to look at social media on my mobile. So I opened the small notepad that lay in front of me and scribbled some words. This usually is good tactic as people end up thinking I am noting down points from the meeting itself. I have used this technique successfully for many years. At the end of the meeting a friend looked at the writing pad and said "What is this? This does not make sense. I thought you were noting down point for your own talk". She did not realize i did not need pen and paper to talk in front of a disinterested audience who had no choice but act interested in the nonsense I spoke. But that is not the only mistake she made. The words on the paper did make sense. I tried and the words in such a manner that they made sense. Well, you can check it for yourself a little later. 

I wrote those words down in the form poems. Here, I think it is good to make clear my definition of a poem. It's a piece of writing which does not involve sentences or grammer and has a fair bit of jumbling of words. After writing it, I review it and modify it by chanting or singing it in some rythm. When the rythm satisfies me, I declare that piece of written work as a poem. I have written many such poems to no acclaim!

The first two poems were written on the writing pad during the meeting. Of course, they have changed a bit since as a result of the review process mentioned above.  The thought behind this first one is the frustrating repetetiveness of life. 

When the sky learns

That it can't fall

It starts looking up

But what does it look at?

It can't be the sky

For how can the sky

Look up at the sky?

But think about it

Maybe it is the sky

That the sky looks up to

For what exists above?

Isn't it the sky?

So what can be concluded?

Even if it is the sky

Only sky exists above

Sky above sky above sky

That is how it is.

I wanted to play around with words that sound the same but have different meaning. I think this poem is inspired by Crazy Mohan's line about meen/mean in Michael Madana Kama Rajan. I wrote 7 lines of this poem in the meeting, the last 3 of which was absolute nonsense. So I removed them and filled it up with other lines later. I referred to the internet to find the set of words that sound the same. Such words are called homophones.

Maybe it is not right to write

Words that mean mean

For it can be seen as a scene

Best avoided to not lose a piece of peace

Best avoided to not find yourself fined

For you might end up feeling the fare is not fair

Similar to the the pain of walking through a pane

Where the rain of glass bring a reign of terror 

Making one to pray to not be a prey

And bear it all with bare guts

Till I wear a "where am I" look

For I can only see a sea of glass pieces

As I peek down from the confusing peak

Turning my face red as I read

All that I write that's not right

I better stop this course in coarse

Everyday, I drive by an open graveyard as I go to and come back from my office. I love graveyards. One of my fondest memories from my school days was walking through a graveyard on my way home. This one is not that memorable but driving through that road in the night always gives me ghostbumps. I once wrote a story about meeting a ghost during a ride back home. I am hoping that would be the climax for my first novel. This small poem is dedicated to the freshy laid road by the graveyard.

The road through the ghost land

Is laid fresh and black

Reflecting darkness of the ghosts around

White lines adorn the road's sides

Reflecting light go keep the ghosts at bay

For reasons beyond my comprehension, I am considered to be a person of immense intelligence by many around me. For reasons beyond my comprehension, I am annoyed by this. Out of this annoyance was born this poem.

I realized suddenly

That I am bright,

Profusely intelligent

As a result I thought

A thought about the moon

I am considered to be so bright

That if I were to say

That the moon

Is made out of butter

And not cheese

Everyone would agree.

They would say

Cheese! Please it's not cheese!

If it were cheese

Moon would be 

The house of mouse

But it's known to all

That no life exists

On the buttery moon.

But I would never say so 

For if I do, people would believe it

Causing confusing

A big problem

For on a sunny day

When it's really hot

They would wait

With buckets in their hands

For the butter to melt

And pour down as ghee

So, I play it down

Stay below the radar

Linger near earth's surface

Avoiding notice of people

To avoid being identified

For my brightness

And my intelligence

Yet not being identified

As unintelligent

Just existing by being invisible.

There is an element of suspense in the next poem and so I have decided to introduct the poem after the poem. In this case, I guess I have turned the introduction into a post-production!

Should I say yes

or just say no?

Too late to ask

I said yes, many years back.

Was it a mistake?

Should I have said no?

Maybe yes but maybe no

Floor 12 could have been worse

Maybe I would have jumped

Instead of wondering if I should 

Stop that cat

Let it not cross my path

But no one did anything

No one was listening

No one could hear me anyway

For I did not say it aloud

It was running in my mind.

That cat is not black

But its white with black

Or maybe black with white

Either way, it's got black

Is any black unlucky 

Or should it be all black?

Should I turn around?

I can't afford bad luck any more

But it just got worse

It's not a cat or a dog

Nor a mouse or a bandicoot

I wish it was a bird

Or a simple earthworm

But it was none of that

It was that wriggly creature

Moving across my path

As a sequence of S's

No wonder they are named ssssssnake

This small one wriggled

Right in front

Escaping from the folds of here

To the greens of there

In search of what I know not

But a question rises

Is a snake crossing my path

Considered lucky?

If not, how unlucky is it?

Will I survive the day?

Will I survive the humans?

Will I be able to write this?

Will I be able to publish?

All question and unsurety

On this day, this morning

When a small snake 

Crossed my path

Most unexpectedly

I go for a walk around my complex everyday. At two places, the path lies between the entry/exit of the basement car park on one side and plants on the other side. I always walk through that path nervously, wondering what I should do if a snake appears in my path. One morning, that snake appeared a couple of feet ahead of me. But before I could jump out of my skin the snake slid away into the bushes to my right. I can't help but mention here that it is the snake that usually jumps out of its skin and yet in this case I jumped out of my skin or didn't. Anyway, the snake crossing my path made me wonder if this too is considered to be unlucky like a black cat crossing my path. I mean, I don't care but I wonder still.

ULLULLULLULLULLULLULLU…

She walked into the new apartment happily. Unlike the earlier ground floor apartment, this one provided a bird’s eye view of the world from the balconies. The apartment had three bedrooms. The third bedroom, a spacious and well-lit room, became a guest room kam TV room jyada. It seemed like a perfectly secluded space for her to chill. To make matter perfecter her own room was opposite to it. 

This was not her first visit to the apartment. She had visited it many times with her mother. Many of the ideas and colours within the apartment came from her head. So it was not all a new experience and yet this day was different. On this day, the apartment became her home. 

She walked into her room and looked around it. It was almost perfect. She only had one complaint. She wished the bed was wider. But a wider bed would have made the room seem smaller. Besides she did not need a wider bed and yet it would have been good to roll around in her sleep on a wider bed, though she was not much of rolling around in her sleep kind of person… She stopped the thoughts in its track. She tightened her fist and told herself “You have to stop this habit of finding problems where none exists. Though a wider bed would have been nice, I don’t need a wider bed and now the room has enough room around the bed. So why are you cribbing? I am not cribbing. Yes, you were. I was just thinking. Don’t think. You think this room is perfect? Yes, it is. You don’t find issues with it? No, I don’t. Ok, ok! I won’t too. Just stop. Ok, stopped. Thanks!” 

She stopped talking to herself and turned around to see her mother staring at her from the doorway. Her mother asked, “Are you talking to yourself?” She smiled sheepishly “The devil in me is finding faults in the room.” Her mother asked “… and what fault did the devil find?” She responded, “Should I have got a wider bed?” Her mother asked, “You planning to get married anytime soon?” She retorted “OK amma, I get it. I will stop.” Her mother did not let go of the idea though. “Hmmm! Maybe you will get married when you are in this house. But at that time, we can get a wider bed for the two of you.” She retorted again “Amma. Stop it. I am not getting married. Not now, not ever.” Her mother walked away saying “We will see. We will see.” She gave herself a slap for having let the conversation lead on to the topic of marriage.

That night at the dining table, after dinner, her mother asked “So, you ok with sleeping in your narrow bed? Do you want to exchange rooms with us?” She looked at her mother angrily and said “Amma, stop it! I was only thinking. Actually, it was not even me. It was Phaedrus.” Her mother did not understand “Fedroos, who is Fedroos?” She waved her hand and said “Does not matter Amma. I am talking nonsense.” But by then both her parents became concerned about the existence of Phaedrus. Her father persisted “Who is Fedrus? Should we be concerned about this fellow?” She cursed herself for having uttered the name Phaedrus “Acha, Amma, it is a character from a book. I don’t know any Phaedrus.” They continued to look at her suspiciously. She got up from the table and said “I am going to sleep. Good night”. Her father called out “Why are you running away?” She turned around, looked at him and said “Acha! I will get that book tomorrow, but you have to read it fully. To ensure that you are reading it, I will have a viva session with you every morning.” Her father waved his hands and said “Ok, ok. Never mind. I trust you. I am not in a mood to read any crazy books.” She felt offended but did not bother to continue the discussion. 

When she walked into her bedroom, she realized that her parents’ bedroom was at some distance from hers. In the earlier apartment, the two rooms were right next to each other. She turned around and looked through the door at the TV room. It was dark and empty. She shook away the dark thoughts in her head by closing the door of her room. She looked around at the room and felt safe once again.

She sat at the edge of the bed and looked around. She decided again that she liked the room. It seemed large and cozy. She looked back at her bed and thought it was just the right size; not too small, not too big. She switched off the lights and lay down on the bed. She looked at the glow-in-dark stickers of the moon and stars stuck on the ceiling. She had hoped to grow out of fascination for these stickers as she grew but it did not happen. She spent a good two hours planning and sticking these stickers on the ceiling two weeks back. At that time, she had wondered if she was wasting her time sticking these stickers but now looking up at the ceiling, she understood that it was well spent. 

At some point, she must have fallen asleep because something shook her out of her sleep. She sat up and looked around at the unfamiliar room. It took her a moment to realize that this was her room in the new apartment. Other than the hum of the AC, the night was quiet. She wondered what had woken her up. She wondered if she had a nightmare. She did not remember. She lay down on the bed and tried to go back to sleep.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Aaaaaayyyeeeeeeeeaaaaa”

She remembered what had woken her up earlier. She shivered in fear. When quietness landed back into the night, it did not last for long. The faint sound of a bell ringing broke the silence of the night.  Her fear increased. She gave out a small scream and covered her head with the blanket and closed her eyes. 

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Aaaaaayyyeeeeeeeeaaaaa”

This time, she jumped out of the bed and ran out of her room screaming “Ammmmmmaaaaaaaa”. As she reached her parents’ bedroom, her mother opened the door and called out her name. She asked “Amma, what was that?” In a voice drenched with fear her mother responded, “I don’t know.” Her father called out from the bed “Switch on the light”. The mother and daughter responded together “No!”. 

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Aaaaaayyyeeeeeeeeaaaaa”

The three people in the room screamed in unison. When they stopped screaming, they heard the faint ringing of a bell. She said, “Its coming from outside.” The mother said “Wait! Let me check from the balcony.” She held her mother’s hand and said “No!” Her mother said “Come on! We have to find out what’s happening.” The two of them walked towards the balcony door. Her mother unlocked the balcony door quietly. As she opened the door, the hinges of the door complained.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Aaaaaayyyeeeeeeeeaaaaa”

The mother and daughter held their mouths shut to keep from screaming. The ringing of the bells was louder now. They crouched and walked towards the parapet wall. When they reached the wall, they raised head slowly and looked down. 

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Aaaaaayyyeeeeeeeeaaaaa”

A woman decked in a red saree with a large red dot on her forehead let out the series of screams. Her head looked up at the sky and her eyes were opened wide. The mother and daughter nearly fainted on seeing the intensity on the woman’s face, but they held on to the parapet wall. The ringing of the bell came from the other side of the road. The spot lay hidden behind a tree. Four similarly dressed women walked behind her. They gently swayed to the rhythm of the bell. The mother and daughter watched the women intently. 

The mother and daughter started swaying their heads to the rhythm to the bell too. They watched the women in trance. They waited for the woman in the front to let out the series of deafening screams. A good dose of anticipation mixed with the fear that they felt inside them. The two of them looked at the woman at the front intently. Inside their heads they were egging her to let out the screams that had terrified them a few minutes back. 

But that did not happen.

Instead, the five women turned to their left and looked up at the mother and daughter and let out a deafening “ULLULLULLULLULLULLULLU…”

Yet another biriyani story returns - Cock fight

She opened the door and once again found her uncle standing there. He had a wicked smile plastered on his face. “There is a reason for my eating chickens” she said. They sat down around the dining table, and she started talking.

“There once lived a cock who was named Maranakothi. You might wonder why a cock was named Maramkothi, which in Malayalam means woodpecker...”

“Will you stop being so dramatic! I know what Maramkothi means. But why was the cock named Maramkothi?”

“You did not let me finish. It’s not Maramkothi, it's Maranakothi, which means deathly pecks. There was a reason for him to be named so. He pecked anyone and everyone in his vicinity. By vicinity I mean anyone who walked near the house that he thought belonged to him. He did not even spare the people who stayed in the house. My father was one such person. Even now his legs have marks left by Maranakothi. Every time Maranakothi saw my father, he chased my father and attempted to scratch and peck him. At most times, my father escaped the wild cock's acts of violence by getting a head start over him.” 

“He first scanned the area between the house and the gate for the menacing cock. If he found the area free of Maranakothi, he ran to the gate like P T Usha. At the same time, Maranakothi also scanned the same area, hiding in the side of the house, for a pair of running legs. As soon as he saw one, he raced towards them. My father says if Albert Uderzo had witnessed the scene, he would have illustrated it like a Roman soldier being chased by Asterix. On most occasions, my father escaped but this was more due to luck than skill or speed.”

“One evening, my father and the rest of the family gathered around the dining table to discuss the issue. My uncle started the discussion by slamming his fist on the table and shouting ‘Kill that cock’. My second uncle agreed ‘Give maranam to Maranakothi’. The three brothers repeated the slogan ‘Give maranam to Maranakothi’. Their mother did not agree ‘That poor cock. He is the forefather of many hens here. It's too active. That is all. Let us adjust and not kill that poor creature’. The eldest brother protested while showing his leg ‘What poor cock! Look at this wound. It pecked me at the same spot four times. At the same spot!’ His mother looked at the wound sadly and said ‘Maybe you should wear boots’. He retorted ‘Amma, don't be ridiculous. It's about time Maranakothi got into a biriyani pot’. Before his mother could protest, his father said ‘It’s too old. The meat will be tough and not fit for Biriyani. Let us make gravy’. Thus, Maranakothi was given the grave gravy judgement.”

“The next morning, my grandfather threw a handful of rice outside the door and waited with his three sons. Maranakothi appeared within a few minutes and started feeding on it. The three brothers pounced on Maranakothi but they were only able to catch each other's hands. The cock flew away but returned immediately to peck the three pair of hands. The three brothers disappeared into the house howling in pain. This scene was repeated intermittently for the next two months.”

“One day, my grandfather placed a bundle at the centre of the dining table and said, ‘Let us use this tomorrow’. Next morning, once again my grandfather threw a handful of rice outside the door. My grandmother muttered from behind the newspaper ‘We could have had a feast for the whole neighbourhood with all the rice that cock has eaten’. Maranakothi appeared and walked confidently towards the door. It seemed it had an arrogant smirk on his beak. He clucked ‘Another round of free food. These fools think they can get me in this manner. Today each of them will get two pecks’. He laughed arrogantly ‘Cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck’ and started pecking the rice off the ground. Suddenly, he noticed a shadow falling from above. Soon, a net materialized and enveloped him completely.”

“My grandfather shouted, ‘Get him’. The three brothers jumped on the cock and held it down. A bloody battle ensued and two hours later, Maranakothi lay as pieces in a vessel of curry. The brothers with scratches all over their faces and arms looked at it and each other happily. Thirty minutes later, Maranakothi had turned into a pile of bones being chewed by the neighbourhood dogs.”

“Hmm! That sounds like a sad story.”

“Wait a minute! The story does not end there. Two hours later, everyone other than the mother screamed ‘Ayoo’ from different parts of the house. They held their stomachs and writhed in pain. Everyone other than the mother, who refused to touch the dish, ended up with severe stomach issues for the next two days.”

“Ah! Maranakothi’s curse! Should you not keep away from chicken biriyani in that case?”

“No! It’s revenge. I hate those creatures. They are not fowls but only foul. Their destruction is my aim. So, get me a chicken biriyani anytime, every time.”

“But not mutton for goat’s cute, right?”

“Right!” 

Yet another biriyani story

She opened the door and found her uncle standing there. He had a wicked smile plastered on his face. He asked, “Where are you off to?” She replied, “To my grandmother’s place.” He asked “That’s one floor below. It seems like you are going outside.” She knew her uncle was teasing her and wanted to smile it away. Instead, she responded, “My other grandmother.” He acted as though the statement was a revelation “Oh! Your other grandmother.” He changed the topic “I am meeting a friend for lunch at Mount Road Bilal. Do you want me to get you some biriyani?” She closed her eyes to avoid him seeing the greed in her eyes. Two of his words struck a chord in her heart, stomach rather – Bilal and biriyani. Then, she remembered two other words. She opened her eyes and asked, “Mount Road one?” He responded, "Obviously! I am not going all the way to Akkarai.” 

Once again, she closed her eyes. This time she was trying to swallow her greed. She loved the food at her grandmother’s place. It tended to be exotic, but Mount Road Bilal biriyani was something else. Some people believed that if Emperor Akbar was alive, he would have ordered take-out from Mount Road Bilal at least once a week. Her thoughts wandered from Bilal and Akbar to how the food would have been delivered to the emperor. “Not through Zomato or Swiggy but through Zomugalo”. He interrupted her thoughts by asking “Why are you smiling?” She shook her head and said “Nothing, nothing. But I am going to my grandmother’s place.” His response was prompt “You said that earlier. But you can have it for dinner.”
“But I usually have dinner there.”
“But you will have lunch there.”
“Yeah, but I usually have dinner there.”
“Don’t have it today.”
“But I love the food there.”
“But you are having lunch there and for lunch you will have that good food anyway.”
“But they will want me to have food there.”
“Listen, we are talking about Bilal here. I could hear your thoughts behind those closed eyes. They were screaming Bilal.”
“Oh God! You are evil. Ok, get me a biriyani.”

Her mother shouted from behind “Only one biryani, ok?” He protested “You need one each.” She disagreed “Only one! We will share it. Can’t eat much at night.” “Alright! One mutton biriyani parcel” he announced grandly. His niece corrected “Chicken”. He looked at her shocked “Chicken! Mutton biriyani is the best. Chicken is a compromise.” She stood her ground “Chicken, not mutton.” He felt flabbergasted “But chicken is a bird.” But she did not budge “Chicken, not mutton”. He persisted “Chicken only has two legs”. She folded her hand and said nothing. He continued “It has wings.” She was getting frustrated, “Maama, only chicken biriyani.” He asked weakly “But why are you not having mutton biriyani?” She responded, “Goats are cute!” He did not know how to respond to it. Confused he asked, “But what has that got to do with mutton biriyani?” She felt annoyed “Mutton comes from goat and goats are cute!” He did not let go of the matter “Aren’t chickens cute?” She tightened her folded hands and said “No.” He did not hide his surprise when he asked “What! Haven’t you seen Chicken Run?” She realized she should have just turned down his offer for biriyani earlier “Maama! Don’t get me anything.” He backed off “Ok, ok. Oru chicken biriyani parsell.”

Late that night, she rang the bell of her grandparents’ house and waited. When her grandfather opened the door, she rushed in saying “Biriyani, biriyani, biriyani! Where is the biriyani?” Her uncle opened the fridge and took out a packet. He said to himself, “So, which one is chicken? Ah! This one! The other one has MB written on it.” She announced to everyone in the house “You know all the drama that I had to put to not have dinner there. I lay on the sofa holding my stomach for 15 minutes. To convince them further, I shut myself in the toilet for 15 minutes. I said ‘Ayo! My stomach’ some 20 times. Where is the biriyani? Give it to me now.” He handed her the biriyani. She said “Thank you! See you later” and skipped away.

Forty minutes later, he received a message from her mother, which said “Yummy biriyani!! Thanks a ton. I'm in heaven”

AI 183

Are you okay travelling in Air India? It was a tough question to answer especially when one has to spend 15 and a half hours in an Air India flight. But then I had never experienced 15.5 hours of travelling in Air India and had only heard of other's narrations about the experience. So, I said okay. I was in Bangalore and had to fly to Delhi to board this long-haul flight. From there the fifteen and a half hour flight was supposed to take off three hours later. A day prior to the travel data, I got an email from Air India informing me that the flight from Delhi was delayed by three hours. This meant that I reached my final destination at 10 pm instead of 6:40 pm. That did not sound good. I would have preferred to reach in the evening rather than the night, but the choice was made and die has rolled. 

The six hours at the Delhi airport was spent in having lunch, coffee, visiting restrooms, editing the book and watching K drama. It went away like a breeze. At the security check, the security personnel asked the old woman standing beside me to open her bag for checking. Many food items including two bags of bitter gourd emerged from the bag. The man said, "I am looking for chillis". The woman said "There are no chillis. I have some paratha and pickles. Do you want some son?" He responded "No aunty, I brought lunch from home. Where are you going?" She responded, "To Oman, to meet my son".  

Later, I walked towards a lounge. I showed the set of cards I had and asked, "Will any of this allow me entrance into this lounge?" She looked at each and commented "This can only be used in airports outside India. This one will require you to pay 3700 rupees for two hours. This one requires 3000 for two hours."  I sighed in disappointment and said "Okay, I will pay 3000 rupees." She said, "Do you want to check the lounge because we don't refund once you pay for it?" I felt insulted but realized that it is better to be insulted than pay 3000 rupees for two hours. I said it is ok and walked off. I realized that even if I make a lot of money someday, I will never be rich. I said to myself in my head "You will never drive a BMW man." A passerby looked at me quizzically. I realized that I has used my voice and not my mind voice.

At 5 pm I walked into the cordoned area around the gate for boarding the flight and sat in a chair close to the gate. Within 5 minutes we were asked to leave the cordoned area because we can only enter that area after we went through a security check. Flights to US demanded multiple levels of security checking. So, everyone walked towards the entrance of the cordoned area. It was more like an amble than a walk. Most of the passengers on the flight were elderly who carried many pieces of luggage with them. So, it took them some time to get out of the cordoned are. Actually, they did not get out of the area at all. The line started outside but soon took a U turn and came right back into the cordoned area. The entrance of the area being narrow, everyone just stood there. Soon the security personnel came and shoed everyone outside. 

The queue outside was not formed like a straight line either. It was rectangular in shape with the beginning and end of the queue barely differentiable. Right outside the entrance was a drinking water fountain that was controlled by IR light. As the people, in the queue stood close to the IR sensor, water started pouring out of the tap sporadically. A person standing ahead of me felt bothered by this and tried his best to stop the water flow by touching the various parts of the water fountain. But nothing worked. So, he gave up and looked sadly at the water flowing out. I had my headphones on and so was in no position to inform him the reason for the apparent malfunction. 

Right in front of me was a young mother with her five year old son, who was handcuffed to her. By handcuff I don't mean the one used by the cops. There were two soft pads that were tied around the mother's and son's wrists. The two pads were attached to each other using a thick wire that was wound in loops. The boy only had the liberty to be in a radius of one and a half metres from the mother when he stretched the loops. But that was not enough for the boy he pulled the wire to free himself off it or drag his mother with him. But he was too small and could not achieve either.  Finally, he screamed and shouted in frustration. After some time, his mother gave up and took off the handcuffs. As a result, he found himself free within the rectangular queue. But he was not satisfied by that for he wanted to break out of the rectangle. But a few people who had noticed the happenings did not let him out of the rectangle. Finally, when he managed to break out of it, one person ran behind him, caught him and brought him back to the mother who promptly handcuffed him again. 

By this time, the queue started moving. The old people who occupied the queue had no idea what was to be done and there were too few security personnel to manage the confusion. People did not keep their mobiles inside the bags for scanning and so were sent back by the security person checking the people with a metal detector. Some kept the bag in the Xray machine but did not wait for body scanning. Some walked through the metal detector too early. Some came out of the area after security check to go to the restroom and tried going back without checking. The security personnel became frustrated and complained "What do I do? The people don't listen to anyone ".  

Many minutes later I sat down in my seat. For the first time in many years, my age was lower than average age of the people who were around me. The person sitting behind me had a loud voice and was causing a lot of confusion. One of the members in his party was assigned the seat 49E but he wanted 51E. So, he walked up and down the aisle uttering 49E and some other words in Hindi loudly. Finally, when an old lady came to occupy 51E, he asked her to sit in 49E. The lady did not seem to understand what was happening but occupied the seat 49E anyway.

The flight was filled with parents of various ages visiting their children abroad. One couple proudly announced to another "Our son is in Berklee university. We are going for her graduation."  Most of them were not clear about the requirements of flying and tended to walk around even when the seat belt sign was on. The flight attendants did their best to remind them to not walk around but at some point they gave up in frustration. I also got the feeling that the captains tended to forget to switch off the seat belt signs. They probably thought anyway no one would follow the sign, so might as well leave it on. 

The lady sitting next to me was filled with curiosity. She and her husband tried charging their mobile phone but were unable to insert the adapter into the plug point. A few minutes later, I charged my phone using the USB point available for charging. She observed my actions keenly, then yanked the USB chord from the adapter that her husband held and went on to charge their phone in a similar manner. Later, when flight attendant came by pushing the drinks trolley, I saw a bottle of Teachers standing proudly at the front. It reminded me of my teaching days and so I got a quarter cup of it with 3 cubes of ice. The lady looked at me intently and asked, "What is it?" I felt stumped and did not know how to respond. I finally gave the worst possible response "Alcohol, Whiskey". She covered her nose with her blanket and looked away.

I usually love the entertainment system in these long flights and end up watching three or four movies during the fifteen and half hour flight. But the entertainment system in this flight was bad. The display was not great, and the user interface was not responsive at all. I had to click a button or swipe a few times before the interface reacted. I tended to apply to much force and was worried that the screen would break. Worse still was that they gave us a low quality ear plugs for audio rather than the over the ears headphones. The audio sounded terrible coming through it. Still, I decided to watch a movie; I can't remember which one now. As the title of the movie came up, the screen went blank. The flight had just started taxiing and system had rebooted. Soon, the phrases like "Starting system", "Starting Android", "Initialising application" appeared successively on the screen. Finally, the welcome screen appeared. Once again, I touched and swiped multiple times to restart the movie. But the screen went blank again. I gave up. I was reminded of a similar experience I had many years back. When the screen came back on, I decided to watch the flight path and details of the flight. Though there was an option to see this information, the application informed "Information not available". I switched the monitor off and took out my mobile. I started watching the two downloaded episodes of "Extraordinary Attorney Woo".

At some point during the flight I noticed the person sitting diagonally across the aisle, a fair old man, dressed in traditional north Indian attire. I noticed that he was looking through the movies available in the entertainment system. There was nothing odd with that except for the fact that all the information about the movies were written in Korean. I looked at him and wondered if he could be a Korean who had lived in India for many decades. It did not seem so. His attire and haircut were too desi for him to be anything but a desi. A little later I saw that an episode of the 'Big Bang Theory' was running on his screen but I was not sure if he was watching it or not. 

Three hours into the flight, the two episodes that I had downloaded had been watched and dinner was consumed. I had nothing to do other than sleeping and listening to music. I am not sure how much I slept but it was more than usual though the sleep itself was not comfortable. Nearly 16 hours later after the flight landed, the lady sitting beside me asked "You have water?" When I said yes, she stretched out her hand. For a moment I was tempted to say 'No, that water is mine" but then I remembered that I was old and had to be benevolent. Besides I had another half a bottle of water. So handed over the full bottle of water to her. She grabbed the bottle from my hand and without thanking me handed it to her husband. I was not too bothered by her lack of courtesy. They had boarded the flight from Delhi and nothing better could be expected from her.  I decided that I should avoid taking internation flights into and out of Delhi and started deboarding.

Wayward incidents

He looked at the level of the liquid inside the bottle he held in his hand. He gave a smile of satisfaction and took a swig out of the bottle. He looked at the vehicles passing by and wondered where everyone was going. He shouted "What's the hurry? Take it easy. Have a drink, have many drinks. Take it easy people." A couple of people passing by looked at him displeased. He ignored them. No, that would be incorrect to say. He did not notice them; he was completely unaware of their existence. He took another swig of the liquid and said "What is the point of existence if you slog through your existence so that you can exist? You don't need much in life. Some food, some drink, some cloths, ... No, no, no, you don't need cloths, you clothe yourself for others sake. No, no, no, that’s not true either. You do need some cloths for the winters but only to keep yourself warm. You could wrap a thick blanket around you and walk around the place. You don't need much. Some food, something to drink, a blanket, maybe two. Thats all. Nothing more. No car, no house, no marriage, no children, no nothing. What is the use of a house when you have a blanket, a nice thick blanket. People, take it easy!" One of the passersby got annoyed by his shouting and said "Quiet man!" He looked in the direction of the protesting voice and asked "What affects you? Is it the loudness of my voice or my words? Which is sharper? Tell me, tell me now."

He took another swig from his bottle and passed out. By the time he woke up, his surroundings had become empty. He looked at his bottle. It wasn't empty. He smiled at it and took it towards his mouth. When the bottle came down, it was empty. He lay the bottle on the ground and gave it a push. It rolled down the pavement noisily. He looked in direction of the rolling bottle and sang shakily "Keep rollin, rollin, rollin, rollin..." The sound of the rolling bottle stopped. He got up shakily. He looked to his left and said "Hmmm, where is it?". He looked to his right and said "Ah! There it is". He walked unsteadily towards the  bicycle that was standing against the wall. After taking a few steps, he said "Stay! Stay right there, cycle. Stay!" On reaching the cycle, he held its handlebar and said "My steed! I hope someone fed you. Someone did? You feeling full and healthy? Yeah? Good, let's go." He climbed the cycle and started pedalling. The handlebar of the cycle went this way and that. With it the cycle and he too went this way and that. He stopped and admonished the cycle "Listen Steed. Did you consume alcohol? Yes? No wonder you are going all around the place. Do not drink alcohol. It's bad for your liver. Haven't you heard the saying 'if you don't have a liver, you will no longer be a liver, for you will be deader than a lever'. What? No, mmm mmmm. I did not make that up. Stakesbear wrote it in ‘As long as it goes’. Anyway, the point is, no alcohol for you. Now shake your head, clear your head and then go." He shook the cycle's handlebar vigorously. In the process, he lost his balance and fell into a hedge. He called out from inside the hedge "What! Home already? Good night steed".

Back home, morning started at 9 am, during holidays that is. But here, on most mornings, she woke up at 5 am. Fifteen minutes later, she walked through the cold air. On most mornings, it was so cold that she had to touch her nose to ensure that it had not fallen. Fortunately, the nose fought bravely against the cold and managed to stay in its place. It was numb but alive. On some mornings, she wondered why she was putting herself through such misery. The warm bed below and the warmer blanket above seemed like a perfect place for her to be in during such cold mornings. But her father and uncle loved to walk during these unearthly hours, and she liked their company. At most times, they talked about the stock markets and their respective jobs. These topics did not amuse her. But at times, they talked about other topics. More than anything, she liked spending time with her father. So, every morning she walked behind them listening to him talk. 

At that time of the day, only a few vehicles plied on the road. Yet, all the traffic signals worked religiously with red turning yellow and yellow turning green. Depending on the greens and reds, the pedestrians were allowed to cross the road. Their route for the morning walks required them to cross many signals and every signal displayed a red coloured palm asking them to wait till the empty roads became safe for them to cross. Having lived for many years on this planet, her father and uncle realized the futility of waiting for the red palm to disappear before crossing the empty roads. But she was young and had not lost her idealist nature yet. So, she waited at most signals for it to give her a go ahead. She pressed the button at her end of the road to inform the gods who controlled the signals that she wished to cross the road. The gods responded instantly and menacingly by saying "WAIT". Every few seconds they reminded her to wait. She waited sincerely for the red palm to disappear. Finally, when the red palm disappeared, the gods announced that it is now safe to cross such and such a road. She ran across the road to catch up with her walk mates.

Like every morning, on this morning too, the waiting and catching up game continued. The midpoint destination of their journey was a coffee shop close by. The Iced Vanilla Latte at the coffee shop had captured her fancy. Her uncle was flummoxed by her affection for this cold drink. He asked, "How can you drink this cold drink on such a cold morning?" She responded, "I like it that way." When the coffees arrived, she found the milky heart shape that floated on top of her father's coffee fascinating. She clicked a picture of it and added it to her collection of milky hearts. 25 minutes later they started their journey back. The way back seemed colder due to the cold breeze blowing steadily against them. She walked at a slight distance from her uncle and father. Soon, she passed by an SUV that was parked in the parking lot of a mall. She had noticed this vehicle almost every day. A lady sat inside the vehicle looking at her smartphone. She wondered aloud "Why does this lady sit inside the car so early in the morning, every day of the week?" She had seen the lady on her way to the cafe. She was still there on the way back. This meant that she sat inside that vehicle for at least 45 minutes. Her uncle heard her and responded, "Maybe there are too many people in her house, and she wants a few minutes of peace before starting her day." He continued "Maybe she is a school teacher who has many children of her own at home too. So, this is probably her moments of peace." She glared at him and said, "If she were a teacher, she would love children." His uncle retorted "Not all the time and not tens and hundreds of them every day. Haven't you heard the saying 'adhikamayal amridhamum vishamaane'. It’s probably like that." 

She did not like her uncle's logic. Teachers must love children regardless of how many there are in her life. She wondered why the lady became a teacher and why she had so many kids if she could not be with them all the time. At that moment, she realized that her uncle had only speculated about the lady. Neither her nor her uncle had any idea about her or her activities. She struck her forehead with her palm and said loudly "What's wrong with me?" At that moment, a voice from inside the hedge besides her responded "How would I know?" At the same time, she noticed a pair of legs jutting out of the hedge. She screamed, jumped over the legs and ran towards her uncle and father. 

He woke up from his sleep when he heard a loud voice asking, "What's wrong with me?" He felt confused. The voice did not seem familiar, and he was sure he did not know the person. He wondered how he was supposed to know what was wrong with the person. He responded, "How would I know?" In response he heard a scream and the sound of someone running away. He sat up and said "Hey". He saw the vague figure of someone running towards two others. He called out in their direction "But how would I know? I don't even know who you are. How do you expect me to know what's wrong with you? You should know it, but you are only a human. Humans do not have the ability to know what's wrong with them, they only know what's wrong with others. Don't worry. You are only a human." He sang "Human, human, human" in a robotic voice as he sank back into the bush.

Cybertruck

You can't a Ford a Tesla

Not the Cybertruck anyway

80k dollars for a truck

That looks like a stiff collar

A cardboard box half open 

A car drawn by a little hand

It ain't no good for you collar

Driving a Cybertruck

Is like being a driver muck

But there are a few

Who think otherwise

Five of them in just two days

Seen driving their cryber bucks

To Lord knows where

Can't be to hell

For Satan can't stand

Those stammer ducks

So they stand lined up

Outside their showroom

Waiting to be taken

By someone, just anyone