On the road again

The road curved to the left. Much to my surprise, the pavement to my left seemed good enough to walk. I pulled up my pants and climbed the pavement. As I reached the curve, I saw a fat cylinder bodied dog coming towards me. It froze on seeing me. I could see an expression of discomfort on its face. It looked left, right and finally at me. The worry in its eyes had doubled. It turned around and walked away from me. A few metres later, it turned around and was once again disturbed by my presence. It seemed to me that it had hoped that I will turn around and walk away on seeing its discomfort. It did not wish to proceed further in this manner. It ducked into an opening on the side of the pavement and disappeared under the pavement. Soon I realized that it had disappeared into the rain water channel underneath the pavement. I wondered the reason for the dog’s discomfort at my sight. I thought I had imagined it. Many dogs had crossed my path earlier. Almost all of them did not even care to recognize my existence. So I wondered why this dog, as strange as it was, reacted to me thus. I turned around to check if the dog was still hiding under the pavement. I saw that it had emerged from under the pavement and was walking confidently away from me.

The road continued to curve this way and that. At times, it crossed crowded roads filled with impatient people and vehicles. At certain places, houses occupied both sides of the road. At other places, swanky glass walled office buildings lined its sides. At one place, I found a vacant land to the left side of the road. As is usually the case, the land was filled with garbage. Among the garbage was a laptop bag with the picture of a lady printed on it. The lady now lay a few feet under the ground, surrounded by the sound of the sea in a neighbouring state.

I continued to walk and reached a crossing. The signal turned red for the vehicle coming from my right. A scooter with a rider and an elderly lady in the pillion came to a sudden halt with its fore wheel beyond the stop line. Another motorbike with a young lady in the pillion stopped behind the stop line. The lady called out to the person driving the scooter and curtly directed him to move behind the stop line. He clumsily  moved the scooter behind stop line. I waited for the signal to turn green for me to cross the road. As I crossed the road I noticed the name of the shop across the road. It read "Cocks, the complete men's shop"

As the cab reached the top of the flyover my eyes were level with the name board of a hotel. Underneath the name, the location of the hotel was written as “Silicon Valley, India”. My attention was disturbed by a Thunderbolt that zipped past us. The rider seemed to be a twenty something. He wore his helmet as a bracelet on his left arm. He guarded his head with a JBL headset. As the flyover turned towards earth, he slowed his bike a bit. He took both his hand off the handle bar, removed the headset off his head and wore it around his neck like a large necklace. He removed his helmet from his arm and placed his precious head into it. The process took around ten seconds and during this time the Thunderbolt took care of its direction on its own. His hands were back on the handle bar by the time the bike stopped at the signal beyond the flyover. In a matter of seconds, the rider’s personality had changed.
I looked at the beginning of the lake through the cab’s open windows. I had seen it a few times earlier but only noticed the half submerged mandapam right at the beginning of the lake now. I don’t think it was an ancient mandapam but in my mind I imagined a young princess splashing the water lightly with her feet as she impatiently waited for lover. The imagination was disturbed by the stink of garbage. A garbage truck stood on the road besides the lake surrounded by a number of garbage push carts. A few uniformed person were sorting through the garbage and segregating them into plastic covers. The stink of the garbage remained strong for a few minutes. The scene turned to worse with open drains and garbage from the drain strewn around. It took two hundred metres for the scene to change and by this time the cab turned away from the lake and I was once again surrounded by concrete.

The delivery man rings twice

The doorbell rang. I looked at the door surprised. I was not expecting anyone. I went up to the door and opened it. I should have looked through the peephole but I did not have the habit of doing so. Besides the lens on the outside of the peephole was scratched and I could not have seen anything anyway. As soon as I opened the door, I found myself staring at a paper bag. The bag was held by a person who said “Your delivery sir”. I felt confused and said “what delivery?” “Your food sir” was the response. I was perplexed. “But I did not order any food.” “Isn’t this 206?” he questioned. I felt disoriented and looked at the number plate on the door. It said 206 and so I had to admit “yes” but I was also force to add “but I did not order any food”. He was perplexed and shoved his mobile at me as he said “look at the address sir. It says 206.” He was right. It said 206 and then I realized the mistake. “Not in this building but the next one.” I said in a sympathetic voice. Embarrassed he looked at the address and asked “Is this not Raj-something?” I said “No! This is Raj-something-else. The next building is Raj-something”. He apologized sheepishly and walked away.

I had targeted watching nine movies in four days. I mean I did not target it at the beginning but it became a target at some point of time. I was in the middle of the eighth movie when the doorbell rang. I looked at the door surprised. I was not expecting anyone. I went up to the door and opened it. I did not bother to look through the peephole. As soon as I opened the door, I found myself staring at a paper bag. The bag was held by a person who said “Your delivery sir”. I did not feel confused and asked “Can I check the address” He showed his mobile phone to me. I smiled as said “This is Raj-something-else. The next building is Raj-something”. He did not understand and asked for clarification “but isn’t this 206?” I explained patiently “This is 206 but this apartment is called Raj-something-else but you have to deliver this package at 206 in apartment Raj-something, which is the next building. “The next building is it?” “Yes, the next building.” “Sorry!”

Ride in a metro in a metro

She took care of my career with a lot of affection during its early days. I was fresh from college and had little patience for the company methods and processes. She used a combination of coaxing and threatening to guide me through those heady days. Six years into my career she helped me take an important decision. It took me years to look back and be convinced that she had helped take the right decision. Without doubt she had an annoying side too and I did not agree with many of her points of view. But those don't seem very important today. I talked to her after a decade two years ago when I switched my career. Yesterday, I called her again and decided to meet her. She said “why don’t you come over now? There is a direct train from your place to mine.” 

The metro ride to her house was quick and without incidents. I got down at her stop and in a short time found myself in the mall that separated her apartment complex and the metro station. Not for the first time, I found getting out of the mall a challenge. Once I parked my car in a mall that I had visited earlier. When I went up the escalator, I realized that I had landed in the newly constructed extension of the mall. This extension was not connected to the older one and its orientation was very different from the older mall. I walked down the length of the extension for many minutes but could not find the mall's exit. The signboards in the mall that directed people to washrooms, fire exits and shops but not the exits. Since I had entered the mall from the basement, my sense of direction felt disoriented. As I walked searching for the exit my annoyance increased. The lethargic walking of the shoppers added to my annoyance. It took me twenty minutes to get out of that mall. Though not as annoying, yesterday’s walk through the mall contained similar elements of annoyance. As I walked into the mall from the metro station I did not know the floor I walked into, if I should go right or left to find the escalator and if the exit was to the right or left. Using my immense brain power I guessed that I had walked into the first floor of the mall, the escalator was to my left and the exit was to my right. I was right about the first and third point. But the second point had a problem, there was an escalator to the right too. 

As with most apartment complexes of today, this complex was covered with a maximum security cordon. As I walked in, the security personnel whipped out his mobile phone and asked me for my mobile number, which is probably more important than one's name these days, and my name. He clicked on an application on his screen and waited. He waited some more before turning to his colleague and complaining in a frustration dripping tone “Arre! Yahan mobile tower tho milta hee nahin hain!” He moved two steps to his right and the application opened. He asked me for the details again. I responded patiently. He asked me for the number of the apartment I was planning to visit. I responded with an alphabet followed by three numbers. Interestingly, this seems to be becoming the Indian standard for numbering apartments in apartment complexes. An alphabet referring to the block number followed by floor number and the apartment number. I am proud to say that the apartment complex I stay in is different. In our case, the first digit stands for the block number, the next two numbers for the floor number and the last number for the apartment number. What I like about this number scheme is that the apartment number also has a numeral and an alphabet in the front, which none of us use for we have no idea what it means. I like this element of mystery. If I want someone to get lost within the complex I can add the mysterious information and the person would walk around the complex trying to find an apartment that fits the complete information I have provided. He/she would never find me. Of course, I am assuming that this someone is not very smart.

When I provided the apartment number to the security personnel, his faced lighted up. He said “Oh! Mr. so and so’s apartment.” At that moment, I realized that I did not know her husband’s name. The security personnel was ready to escort me to the apartment but I convinced him that I was smart enough to find the apartment if he can inform me whether I should go right and then left or left and then right. Apparently, the latter was closer to reality with an additional right at the end. As I walked through the complex, I compared it with the complex I stay in and declared… No, I should not display my arrogance. 

It was a pleasant evening. We talked about events that took place couple of decades ago. We remembered all those forgotten names and faces. We thanked that we no longer had to deal with some of those names and faces. She served me a dish that I had not had for sometime and had forgotten about. I thanked her profusely for her kindness and walked out happy. Though we parted with a “we will be in touch”, I felt the words will not come true. 

The maneuvered the way back to the metro station professionally. As I walked down the stairs to the metro station, I saw a train pull into the platform. I considered running and even took a step. But I realized that the granite floor was too smooth for me to run on. I was barely able to walk without slipping. I walked to the platform and sat on a chair. I took out my mobile and called one of my ex-colleagues. The fellow did not believe in mobile phones and could only be reached through a landline. His sister picked the phone and said he was not home yet. She said he will ask him to call back. He did not call back and I think it is time for me to drop another piece of luggage from my life.

All the seats in the train were occupied. I stood at in the open gangway connecting two of the coaches. Soon, the person sitting in the seat besides me got up. I looked at the seat and was suddenly reminded of a social media video. I looked up and realized, as in the video, the seat was reserved for the elderly persons, pregnant women or people with disability. No one fitting these descriptions were present in the immediate vicinity and so the seat remained unoccupied. I wondered if I should occupy the seat but hesitated. By this time, a person from behind me pushed me aside and occupied the seat. Once again I was thankful for someone else taking the decision on my behalf. 

The train stopped at the next station. The doors opened, a few people got out while others got in. The doors closed and the train started moving. A lady went to the person who had just occupied the seat and stood in front of him. She pointed at her growing belly. He looked at her sheepishly and got up. I looked at the scene with a growing sense of satisfaction and leaned back against the wall of the gangway. Like most metro coaches, this one was also filled with discomforting whispers. My eyes roamed around the coach but was soon arrested by a small breakage near the top. The metro lines were not smooth and the carriages jerked up and down at many locations along the route. This motion resulted in a tear at the top gangway as it slammed against the ceiling of the coach. I looked at it and wondered the cause of the issue. Could it be the bad design of the coach or was the laying of the tracks at fault?

Endgame, I hope!

For many months, the phrase "Endgame" had been buzzing around the house. The grand finale of the Avengers series was eagerly awaited. I had watched the first part of Avengers many years ago. I had not disliked it but I am not sure if I had liked it either. It was dark and at the same time cynical; always an interesting combination. At that time, I was not aware of the Marvel vs. DC mania. From my point of view, super heroes are super heroes. With the exception of Modi and Trump, they only existed on screen or paper (I wanted to write "they only existed in 2D" instead of "paper or screen" but then I remembered the annoying 3D glasses). Superman flew and spewed laser from his eyes. Spiderman climbed walls and discharged web. Batman sped around, jumped from place to place and talked in an annoyingly hoarse voice. Iron man loved to stay in the insides of a robot. They all had super strength and would not break a sweat if some villain pounds them using the Statue of Liberty or Eiffel Tower. To my not fully developed brain all of them seemed the same at a macro level. So, I was shocked to realize that my understanding was far from reality. There was a fundamental difference between superheroes, viz., some belonged to the Marvel universe and others to the DC galaxy. Further, it is considered a blasphemy to mix one with the other. As a mother realized when she asked her son while watching a Marvel movie "When will Wonder woman come?" The boy was embarrassed and shocked. He spit out a "Mom! What's wrong with you? Wonder woman's in DC." The poor mother was perplexed by the response and asked "Why is she in DC? Is she meeting the President?” It was the boy’s turn to be perplexed. He asked “Why should she meet the President? What are you talking about?” The mother realized that her understanding of DC was incorrect. She asked “What do you mean DC?”
“Ma! DC comics”
“Why are we talking about comics?”
“Ma! Can I explain later? I am unable to concentrate.”
“Hey! Tell me now. You have watched this movie four times already.”
“Maaaaaaa! This is an important scene.”
“Shhh! Tell me when Wonder Woman will her entry?”
“Wonder Woman will make an entry because this movie is based on Marvel comics and Wonder woman is only seen in DC comic.”
“So who was the woman in the poster?”
“That’s probably Captain Marvel or Black Widow”
The mother decided to ask no further questions. She had not realized that Captain Marvel was a woman and she had never heard of Black Widow. She decided to go with the flow.

The beginning of the month arrived. The clamour to watch Endgame increased. Patience levels were at an all time low for the youngest member in the family. Three times a day, the family was made aware of the countdown status. As the day of the movie approached we became a part of a group of friend from work who were planning to watch the movie. Around the time, I was made aware by the above mentioned youngest member that I was not learned enough to understand the movie. Marvel had made 22 movies in 11 years and each movie added a character or two to the finale. For example, I had not watched the movie Ant-man and did not realize that Ant-man played a pivotal role in the finale. Then there was the Winter Soldier. Not to forget, Black Panther! I thought all these were different movies and the Avengers only included the five or six characters with Fury. My thoughts were far from reality. This issue came to the fore when I watched Infinity war, which I had missed watching in the theatres last year and had to rent on YouTube as a part of my preparation for Endgame. Infinity war had many super heroes and I had to use tally marks to keep track of all of them. At the end of the movie, many of the super heroes wither away and I thought I had no use of keeping track of their existence or their actions for Endgame. For example, the all important Fury withers away but not before he sent a message on a pager to I-am-not-sure-who. If I had not watched Captain Marvel, I would not have realized the recipient of the message and would have been perplexed at the sudden appearance of the recipient. So clearly my Avengers knowledge was sketchy and I required a crash course of the Marvel world. I opened an Excel sheet and drafted a plan. I started by watching the original Avengers. I followed it with Thor Ragnarok, Civil War and Ant man. I had become 80% ready for Endgame. I was informed that the only Black Panther and Spiderman were missing from my spectrum. I protested "I know Spiderman". I was admonished sternly and made aware that this Spiderman is not the old Spiderman but was Spiderman (Tony Spark upgrade version 2.0). Comparing the two Spidermen is like comparing Window 10 with DOS. But I refused to accept. I know all about Spiderman and Peter Parker and did not have the time to know more. Now only Black Panther remained. I started watching “Black Panther” in a bright room at two in the afternoon but could not get through the first fifteen minutes. The occurrences in the movie were enveloped in darkness and I could only see the reflections of the room on the screen. I gave up and decided to try it later that evening. Finally, I ended up watching the movie at two in the afternoon on the television in a hotel room in Bangalore. I found the movie interesting but I not great. Somehow, all the characters in the movie seemed detached. The movie required some over the top acting but everyone other than Forest Whitaker indulged in realistic acting.

The real boost to my enthusiasm for Endgame came from Infinity war. An year earlier, I had contempt for the movie and gave it a miss. Being an old school superhero movie watcher, I wondered, why Avengers required so many superheroes to bring down a villain. Superman, Spiderman and Batman handled multiple villains possessing multiple hands and tentacles single handedly. People told me Thanos was different and that he is god among super villains. I waved my hand in a Mr.Bean-ish manner and uttered "pffffffttt". I considered myself lucky for not being a part of the Infinity mania. I lived in this manner for an year and then watched the movie. I would probably be exaggerating if I say "it is the greatest superhero movie ever made" but I would be lying if I say "I did not feel that way". Watching Infinity war was an absorbing experience and sixty percent of the absorption came from Thanos. He is one of the best super villains conceived by humanity. He is extremely powerful and eliminated many super heroes through the snap of his fingers and at ither times through violent means too. He believes that he has a strong sense of morals and values but as is usually the case the world does not appreciate it. He was convinced that though his actions caused pain it was not done for his own pleasure; he believed he had to snap his finger to make the universe a better place to live in. I loved the ending of the movie wherein he walks to a cliff, sits by the edge and calmly watches a sunset. Prior to this calm end he had destroyed many superheroes and half the living creatures in the universe by snapping his fingers. Does the universe possess a greater super villain?

I awaited Endgame with bated breath. I was curious to see how the remaining Avengers defeated Thanos. Being a super hero movie, the makers of the movie will not allow the super villain to win. Would the universe not crumble if Thanos wins and continues to live? His thought that he is doing it for the universe and not for himself makes him dangerous. (This reminds me of the political situations prevailing in different parts of our planet?) So he has to go! But how?

Before I proceed to Endgame, I would like to place my formal protest at the way common people, like me, are treated in these movies. We scream and run around, like ants, with our hands flailing around above our heads. (NOTE: The ‘like ants’ part was for ‘run around’ and not for ‘hands flailing’. I have never seen an ant flail its hands. As a matter of fact, I am not even sure if ants have hands. They could just be four legs, which are the ant’s forelegs). We humans are either crushed by flying trucks or smashed by falling buildings or simply blown to bits by fluorescent explosions. These explosions vaporise us and not even ash is left behind. The makers of such movies don't even let us observe these plain vanilla human faces. I would like to know if someone who looks like me would perish in one such attack. I formally protest through these words at the treatment meted out to us non-superhero human being by the makers of superhero movies.

I did not book the tickets for the movie as soon as they opened. As a matter of fact, by the time I realized that the bookings were open, all the tickets for the opening Friday and the weekend were booked. So we decided to go for the movie on Monday. The tickets were available in a theatre close by but I did not book. I waited for the bookings to open in a new theatre close by. I had watched Shazam in the theatre and loved the new and blue look inside. It looked like the insides of a space ship, which made it an ideal location to watch the finale of Avengers. I checked the bookings website once every three hours for two days (not including the time I slept and worked, of course). As time passed I thought the fellows at the theatre had received a message from someplace in the Universe stating "Don't bother to open the bookings for Avengers: Endgame. Your planet, the Earth, will be destroyed at 12:04 am on 26 April 2019*. * - Conditions Apply". I was getting desperate. The forefinger of my right hand hovered around the "Book now" button of the older theatre but it not touch the button as I felt reassured by the fact that most seats for Monday afternoon were available. So I waited. Finally, I was relieved to know that the Earth would live through another Friday when the bookings at the new theatre opened. I booked tickets for the afternoon show. We had forty minutes to reach the theatre from our work place. The time taken for the journey was not a worry; only fifteen minutes. The afternoon meeting was a worry though. If it stretched beyond the designated time due to the abundantly available enthusiasm of its participants, we could miss the first few scenes of the movie, which as everyone knows is considered an act of blasphemy.

Unfortunately, the afternoon meeting turned out to be an interesting one. It involved people presenting concepts in different manners using mechanisms, which resembled role play but was not called so. By the time all the teams readied their presentations only 20 minutes were available. We had already informed everyone about our plan and had requested everyone to contain they enthusiasm that afternoon. But as is usually the case, enthusiasm radiates and travels faster than radioactivity. As a result, the presentations stretched beyond the closing time. When the stretching reached fifteen minutes, I became desperate and started displaying five of the nine navarasas on my face. It must have been an effective display for the meeting ended almost immediately. As expected the journey to the theatre took only the estimated amount of time and we were in our seats two minutes prior to the start of the movie.

Prior to getting to my thoughts on Endgame, I would like to mention two points.

1. The pop corn in this new swanky theatre costs 200 bucks. The interval time snack being an integral part of the movie watching process ensured that the cost of snacks was nearly 500 bucks per person, which is more than double the cost of his/her ticket and which is sufficient to provide for breakfast, lunch and dinner for a family of four eating at home. The ridiculousness of this situation has forced me to look towards Netflix and Amazon Prime instead of cinema theatres.
2. Since I write my thoughts on the movie nearly a month after its release, I don't have to write the words "Spoiler Alert", which is a minor tragedy. I would have loved to use that phrase. “Spoiler alert” is a phrase of power. It intimidates it's recipients to believe that its utterer knows something that they probably don't want to know yet. If the utterer wishes so, he/she could whisper this information into their ears and make them feel miserable but, in many cases, he/she is benevolent enough not to do so. I think the use of the phrase helps us understand the feeling God has when He/She sees us preparing for an examination. He/She already knows the result for He/She is all knowing but He/She does not intimate us of the result for He/She wants us to go through the miserable experience of studying even though He/She has already decided on what the result is. If this comparison does not make sense, ignore it.

A few minutes into Endgame, we find a benign Thanos sitting in a decrypt location surrounded by the remaining Avengers. When they demand him to surrender the Infinity stones, he informs them that he has destroyed them as he believed they were no longer required. I felt a thrill run through me. Twenty minutes into the movie, the Infinity stones were destroyed and Thanos seemed as harmless as a hermaphrodite. I wondered what all these fellows would do for the remaining two and a half hours. The thrill disappeared a moment later when Thor beheaded Thanos. The people on screen had the same shocked expression as I had. Being a child friendly movie they too would have thought "What the hell!" Thor looked around, shrugged and uttered something stupid that I refuse to repeat. On hearing the words, half the audience whooped and clapped. I realized that I had done a mistake. I should have stayed at home and watched Infinity war again. The next thirty minutes were some of the dullest moments of my life. I was put through an absurd emotional drama. I realize superheroes have every right to express their emotions but I believe they should not do so for more than five minutes on the screen. I wish the makers had watched “Die Hard” prior to making these thirty minutes.

The beheading of Thanos gave me an idea on the direction the movie would take but I was not sure of the reason for taking that direction. The villain no longer existed and the problematic stones had disappeared. In the normal world, the remaining population of the universe would spend their time rebuilding the universe. But that probably would be an ideal theme for a pornographic movie. This was an Avengers movie and so the villain had to resurrected and fought again. But I was shocked by all the sentiment and emotion that the movie and its characters underwent prior to before they reached this decision. I do realize that I belong to the minority who were annoyed by these scenes. I blame it on Doordarshan, which during my younger days ensured that I sat through many hours of Dilip Kumar, Sivaji Ganesan, MeenaKumar and Vijayakumari. I was also lucky enough to weep through the second half of Deshadanam within the safe haven of a dark theatre. The sadness of the Black widow did not move me. I did not pity Captain America for his morose expressions. I thought Tony Stark should feel happy playing with his daughter and not pine for Peter Parker's company. Instead, the members of Avengers by two walked around the screen like Zombies. At the end of thirty minutes, they came up with two uninspired reasons to continue with the movie.

1. We have to get everyone back.
2. The Infinity stones are very important for the universe's existence. We have to get them back and place them in their designated location. Only then will our universe feel like our good old universe complete with Thanos and rest of the villains. 

The audience were then taken through the Quantum version of "Back to the future". The little interest and respect I had for the movie disappeared when one of the characters mocked the time travel concept of "Back to the future" and then ended up using it. If I have a choice, I would time travel to the past and erase the concepts of time travel and wormhole from Hollywood. The genre of science fiction survives primarily on these two concepts and Endgame has used and abused them beyond the acceptable limited.

As expected, the climactic battle had all the superheroes reappearing. The audience went berserk at the appearance of each superhero and my annoyance climbed steadily. By the time Ironman snapped his fingers I did not care whose head snapped and whose stayed intact. At that point I did not realize that the movie had another twenty minutes of sentimental nonsense in store for me. Apparently these were the scenes that caused extreme sadness among the teens and twenteens. One person in Hong Kong had to be taken to the hospital from the theatre. It is a pity that she did not go through an operation for I would have loved to use the phrase "from cinema theatre to operation theatre".

I was glad to walk out of the theatre. I did not and still don't understand the world going bonkers for this movie. It is a very boring end to a good movie series. It totally failed to build on the premise setup by Infinity war. At the end of Infinity war, Thanos was the all powerful villain who could destroy the Universe at will. But in Endgame we have to deal with a naive Thanos who does not even possess all the Infinity stones. The movie was basically a Marvel version of “Back to the future II” where people messed with history and future by travelling back and forth in a time machine. In that sense Endgame is not even original.

Horrid's not horror

I was watching the movie Airaa; a movie filled with dang and da-dang moments. Just as Nayantara picked a piece of cloth with half a butterfly drawn on it in blood, the phone rang. A courier delivery person requested me to come down and pick a parcel. I paused the movie, got up, went out and closed the door. I pressed the elevator button and waited. The elevator started its ascent from the ground floor. The numbers incremented slowly from zero. It stopped when it reached 13. The doors opened and I stepped in. The doors closed and the elevator started its descent to the ground floor. The elevator doors opened and I stepped out. The corridor was empty. I walked towards the back door and walked into the parking lot. I walked out of the parking lot and stood in the sun. I walked towards the main pathway, which was shaded and looked towards the gate. A car passed. I waited. I got tired of waiting and walked back. I was startled by a shrill sound. I nearly jumped out of my skin but it held me down tightly and informed me that it was only the security person's whistle. I reminded myself that I was no longer watching Airaa. 

I picked the package and walked back to the building. I entered the corridor and walked towards the elevator. I was shocked to find that the elevator was no longer on the ground floor. It was on the 13th floor! Once again, I tried jumping out of my skin but I was once again reminded that I was no longer watching Airaa. So I got into the elevator, went up to the 13th floor, got into my apartment and continued watching the movie. An hour and half later, Yamuna smiled at the butterfly flying over Bhavani's and Amudhan's graves. I patted myself on my back for having wasted two and a half hours of my life. 

Dream on

Dreams can be pleasant or not. The latter, referred to as nightmares, usually refer to frightening experiences. But I have experienced a number of unpleasant dreams that cannot be categorized as frightening. Funnily, I have never thought of pinching myself to check if I am living through a dream. I drudge through these dreams hoping that its only a dream. These dreams take me from one embarrassing experience to another and many I end up going  through an extremely boring and irrelevant process that never ends. I am usually desperate for it to end and for me to escape the situation but it never ends. Allow me to explain through an example.

I was standing at a counter. It was probably a ticket counter. It did not seem like a counter in an airport. It seemed more like a bank with a piece of glass, like the ones seen in the teller counters, separating me from the lady behind the counter. I seem to be waiting for her to do something. She is looking down at something and not at me. At that moment, I felt an urgent urge to urinate. When I say “felt” I do not mean a normal feeling. I mean the I-have-to-do-it-now kind of feeling. So I decided to act on the feeling. One has to remember that the I of the “I decided” is not me; it is “the I” in my dreams who never listens to me. At that moment, I was actually saying “What! What! What! ...” but the dreamy I did not listen. So I urinated right there; on the board below the glass.  I felt relieved. I looked up and found the lady continuing to stare at something below the counter. I continued to wait for a few minutes. I did not say anything to the lady behind the counter and she did not bother to look at me. I waited patiently. 

To my utter shock, within a few minutes I felt like urinating again. By now it my next step should be obvious.  I urinated once again right under the counter. Once again I felt relieved. But my relief soon turned to horror when I noticed the disgusted expression on the face of the lady behind the counter. I realized that she was looking at a monitor on her side of the counter. An uneasy suspicion crept into my head. I started feeling, with my hands, under the glass on my side of the counter. I felt a small ring with something smooth inside. It felt like glass. I realized it was the lens of a camera. The camera underneath the counter was focused exactly at the spot I had used to urinate. I looked up and realized that the disgust on her face had increased. She did not look at me but started typing something. I was sure she was informing the police (not the security) about my behaviour. I knew I was in trouble and had to leave immediately. But I could not do so because I had to complete the record I was writing. The counter had disappeared and I was sitting on the floor and filling up the pages of a science record. I wanted to get up and leave but I could not do so till I finished writing. I continued writing thinking "I have to leave now." I woke up!

Why on earth would I have such a dream! As gross as I am, I now understand that my brain has the ability to reach grosser depths. Thankfully, it has not done so in my waking life. I am amazed at my brain’s ability to seamlessly change the scenario as the dream continues. I mean the thread of the dream remains the same but the scene and situation changes. I recount a snippet from another of my dreams to elucidate this point.

A woman and her mother are walking with two men. The mother is walking with the woman’s lover. It starts raining and the lover opens an umbrella. The mother asks the love to walk under the umbrella with her daughter. he agrees and walks towards her. Instantly, the scene shifts to the insides of the car and the mother and her daughter's lover are sitting in the front seat of the car talking. The funny thing is that the mother has now become the lover of the lover and the daughter is forgotten. It continues to rain outside. I woke up. I tried to go back to the dream but as is usually the case, the dream had ended and another dream commenced.

Many years ago, I dreamt that I was sleeping in my then home. It was the ground floor of an apartment close to the sea. As I slept in my sleep I felt that the water flow into the bedroom. Soon I woke up and was shocked to find that the water level was rising. I felt panic grow within me. The next moment, I found myself on the terrace of a tall building. It seemed like a lighthouse but I thought that it was the LIC building, which during my growing days was considered the tallest building in Madras. The city was swamped in water and the sea was pouring more water into the sea. It was a terrifying and yet fantastic sight and I was living through it.

As weird as the dreams are, I love the feeling of relief that flows through me when I realize that it was only a dream.

Democrazy works

The first of the days that the country has been waiting since 2014 has arrived. In the red corner, the supporters of the current Government have been thumping their chest while shouting out a song, which I believe contains the line "we shall overcome in 2019 again". And in the blue corner, the haters have been screaming for the Government's and its leader's blood from the minute they formed the Government. They too have a song, which only has the line "We will, we will rock you in 2019". In the middle, a few sit with their heads in their hands singing a song that contains the line "between the devil and the deep blue sea" while wailing intermittently. Except the third category, which in any case is a minority, the other two have been waiting from 2014 for the 2019 general elections with bated breath. Thus the days preceding voting have been filled with speculation and conjecturing. Political analysts were taking birth in every corner of the land. 

The prevalent mood in the country suggests a change in the Government. The current Government expended a lot of energy in making noise and being jingoistic. Many of their actions were not free of controversy, which should not come as a shock as the people involved are politicians. But the issue, in this case, is that the leaders of the Government acted like Mahatmas and Saints and hence became dubious figure when their own activities seem doubtful. During the past few years, I have realized that the human mind has little tolerance for hypocrisy. So politicians and people, in general, should not talk about doing good and being principled if they can't live up to it. It is much better to be seen as a weak person than a hypocrite. Thus the hypocrisies of the Government seems to have caught up to them. But they could still shrug it off and come back to form the Government as the opposition is in a pathetic state. I don't think there are too many people in the country who believe that the opposition better than the current Government. They have proved their worth earlier and I am sure they will put us through a lot of nonsense if and when they come back.

The only saving grace is that Donald Trump was elected and continues to be the President of United States of America. Shit happens anywhere anytime somehow.

I would be lying if I said I do not support the ruling party. I always have. Not because I support their ideology or am interested in seeing a temple built at the various sacred spots across the country but simply because the leaders in the party come from different walks of life. I think we have no choice but to make this Government work. The media and many intellectuals have used every weapons available inside their head to attack the Government. I believe they did not give any chance for the Government to survive and this will ultimately prove harmful for the country. But they don't seem to care. I feel that their love for the country is no different from that of the right winger and the hard core patriots. They are the two sides of a coin. 

So I am a peripheral supporter of the ruling party. Though I would like them to continue ruling the country, this is not a feeling of hope. I don't think they will do much for the country. But I don't think they will ruin the country like the other parties. As the date of voting approached, I became aware of the the ruling party's terrible coalition partners in Tamilnadu. Of course, the word terrible can be associated with most political parties in Tamilnadu but some of the parties in this coalition were terribler than terrible. I was shocked when I realized that the coalition had fielded a candidate from a hegemonic and nepotist party in my constituency. I would not have voted for this party in 2014; in 2019 I could not even think about it. Thus it became clear that I did not have a preferred candidate to vote. Actually, I preferred not to vote for any candidate. The NOTA button loomed large in my mind. But I did not like that button. It seemed pointless to go all the way to the polling booth to press a NOTA. So I had to pick a candidate.

A few days prior to the voting day, the younger one's homework dealt with elections and getting information about our constituency and booth. He informed us that our polling booth continues to be same as the one ten years ago. This meant we had to travel 35 km one way to get to vote. I was certainly not going to travel 70 km to press the NOTA button. He, very helpfully, came forward to inform us the list of candidates. Voting for the ruling and opposition party candidates was out of the question. So I was left with the peripherals. The break away faction of the ruling party in the state was headed by a shady figure and I think it is better to kill oneself than to vote for anyone in that party. I had to choose from a few etcetera and independent candidates.

During my growing years, the concept of patriotism was driven into my head. It is done through different mechanisms - lessons in schools, movies, music, documentaries, sports, functions and national days, biographies and autobiographies and history. The idea that we are great is rammed into our heads and we grow up being proud about everything that our country does and not. This is not only true for our country but also for any country on the planet. Actually, it is not just the country but also state, district, village or town or city. Patriotism, which is synonymous with pride, is driven into our heads to such an extent that we believe and circulate the messages on our national anthem being selected or elected or awarded as the best national anthem on the planet. It is not enough for us to have a national anthem; we are not even satisfied at having good national anthem, it has to be the best and nothing less than that. The concept of democracy and the purported power that the common man is a major weapon of patriotism in our country. We are made to believe that we choose our leaders and if and when we decide, we can change our leaders. While at a high level this seems true, I think there are many issues hidden between the lines. First, it does not matter whom we choose, they are all the same. No one seems to be better than the other but ironically everyone seems worse than the other. So as was done by Bharatha in Ramayana, it would be better for us to have a pair of chappals as our leader. At least, it will not do us harm. Second, we choose the leader and not I. The "we" in the previous statement is a large "we"; probably as large as 272 multiplied by at least half the average population of a constituency in India. I don't have the ability to convince the people in my family that "Yuve yuve yu" is the greatest song on the planet, how am I expected to convince so many people.

These thoughts did not come to me out of the blue one Thursday morning in the shower as I was struggling to soap the middle portion of my back. It has been building over the years. Every time I walked to the polling booth, a voice whispered "What's the point!" in my head. But I was scared that someone would check the index finger on my left hand and scream at me "traitor". I was worried that my boss would notice my ink-less finger and reduce my rating by 0.762. What would happen to my increment! What would happen to my promotion! What would happen to my family! And last but not the least, what would happen to me! So I trudged under the hot sun to the polling booth stood in line and happily let the officials at the booth to place the ink on the index finger of my left hand.

By 10 am on the day of polling, my social media pages and message boxes were complaining about the number of pictures of fingers they were receiving. The pictures could be broadly classified into two categories. Number one: I voted so should you. Such pictures were to the point, they showed the close up of an inked finger, potentially the sender's own finger. The index finger seems to be pointing accusingly at the receiver and ordering him/her to get to the polling booth. Number two: I am/We are happy citizen(s). These pictures typically has people with large smiles plastered on their faces holding aloft the index finger of their left hand. These are kinder people than the former and are only trying to express their joy about being good citizens. As an aside, I wonder if Facebook is running some AI algorithm to understand people's purchasing pattern based on their nails or the way they hold their hand.

By 10:04 am I realized the ridiculousness of the situation. I was taking the elections too seriously. I was trying to apply logic to a ridiculous situation and regardless of the brilliance of my logic, the result would be ridiculous for the country and I. So why not choose the person and party to vote based on a totally ridiculous logic. I loved Kamalhassan in my growing years. During younger days I thought he was greatest human being and actor alive after watching him in Uyarndha Ullam and Mangamma Sapatham. I decided to take the thought of the younger and innocent version of me seriously and vote for Kamalhassan's party, Makkal Needhi Maiam. At the point of time, I was not sure about the party's name or its emblem. I knew that it was referred to as MNM and thought I will get the required information while I waited in the queue at the polling booth.

Besides the voting card, we used carry a small piece of paper that was given to us by one of the political parties. I thought the piece of paper had some vital piece of information that I could not decipher. Soon after I reached the vicinity of the polling booth, I approached a table full of party members and asked them for the slip. They did not have the slip. They had sheets containing lists of people and their photographs. They asked me for my ward number. I shrugged. Someone snatched my voter card and typed a number on it into their mobile phone. Soon they copied some details from their mobile phones on to a small slips of paper and handed them to me. It contained information about the ward number and serial number. I felt silly. I had checked the site in the morning and had all the information stored in my mobile phone, which was getting baked inside the car standing under the hot sun. We walked to the room that contained our ward and was surprised to find it nearly empty. I stood behind two people waiting to be inked. Tension grew within me. I wondered what the shape of the marking that the official placed on my index finger on the left hand would be. I have to live with the marking for the next month or two and did not want it to be messy. Sometimes, the official would place excess ink that runs along the edge of the nail and leave crescent that in the coming days starts moving up. It would look ghastly. I did not want a fat drop of ink. I prayed for a thin and elegant marking.

After giving my information and placing my signature on a form, I extended my trembling left finger to the official. He took out the stick from the bottle containing the ink and placed it on my finger. I closed my eyes and prayed. I only stopped when I heard the official asked me to go ahead and vote. I walked into the booth, which consisted of a table with the EVM on top. The EVM was surrounded with pieces of cardboard to ensure that the process remained secret. I looked at the list of candidates and the party symbols.  To my utter shock I realized that I did not know the name of MNM's candidate or its symbol. I had forgotten to look at the large poster with the list of candidates placed outside the polling station. I thought the first two entries on the EVM would be the ruling and opposition party and so looked at the third entry. It was a candidate with an air conditioner as his/her symbol. I did not remember MNM's symbol but was quite sure that it was not an air conditioner. My eyes ran through the list of symbols in desperation but I could not remember any of the symbols. I felt that time was running out and that all the eyes in the room were on me. My hands moved towards the NOTA but stopped two entries ahead of it. I pressed and held a button. As I held the button down, I looked at the symbol used by the candidate I had voted for.

I walked out of the booth and looked for the symbol in the list of candidates pasted outside. Against the symbol, I noticed the photograph an independent candidate. He was a pleasant looking fellow who smiled pleasantly at the camera. I felt happy for I liked the him. He looked familiar and that is always a good sign. I made an effort to remember his name and symbol as I was curious to know how many people voted for him. Since then I have forgotten both the information but hope to remember his name when I see it in the newspaper or website.

At the end of the day, I feel I ridiculed the system, which in turn ridiculed me. Of course, I do realize that regardless of who gets ridiculed in the process I am the one who will be ridiculed the most.