Shaken and Stirred

Ever since I learnt how to drive, I have felt how each drive is a microcosm of life itself or at least a slice of it. In this series of short stories, I shall purport to portray the parallels that I perceived. Shift into first and gently release the clutch The first part correlates the stop-starts and hiccups in the early part of a relationship to the first time you drive and eventual smooth release of the clutch. “Damn it, I am already late!” thought Akhil looking at his watch. That wasn’t new. He was habitually, and only occasionally fashionably tardy. He was driving his flat-mate Vikram’s Honda City, navigating it through Bengaluru’s traffic. He had an arrangement where he could borrow it at a reasonable rate of Rs.8 per km. This came in handy for getting groceries, or occasionally to go to the office. However, today it was essential. Akhil was going on his first date in a long while.  “God, why did I have to wear this dress?” thought Aarti getting into the car. She had gotten s...

I tried the hair saloon once. What I mean by that is that I went to the expensive, air-conditioned Britney-Spears-playing stylists as opposed to my regular round-the-corner barber. This was after I came back from France and my long, flowing European tresses were getting stripped away by the minute in the heat and dust of India. As it had been more than eight months since my previous haircut, I was willing to experiment. Besides, there was the little matter of the 50% off coupons in my possession. I was turned away at first when I reached there since I had not taken an appointment beforehand! Not one to get the hint fate was giving me in the form of the rejection, I scheduled my coiffure at a convenient hour. At the anointed hour, the first thing I noticed in the saloon was that I was the only male customer there. Of course, there was no dearth of spiky-haired, booted-up, covered in body art, men in black stylists that were present. Once in the hot seat, I got the sales pitch about...

The Supreme Court of India recently threw out petitions seeking legal prohibitions on the "immorality" involved in pre-marital sex and live-in relationships. While the honorable Court refused to delve into the moral aspects and summarily discarded with the petitions on legal grounds, an article in The Hindu - the mouthpiece of the Indian intelligentsia argued how such a legal judgment could serve to encourage the misguided youth from trying more such "experiments". I took it upon myself to argue (as is my wont) back. Here is a copy of the article I sent as an entry to the newspaper: Aligning the alien I count myself as one of the youth of today. And though I am not an aggressive proponent for pre-marital sex or live-in relationships, I was shaken enough to write this response. The author has clearly misunderstood the raison d’etre of live-in relationships. They are not quite the seed of convenience as much as cynicism. In fact, it may well be countered th...

An expert is a person who has made all the mistakes that can be made in a very narrow field. - Niels Bohr I consider myself an expert in matters of the heart. I have given loads of people advice in all kinds of different situations. It’s another matter that most of them never actually used my advice, so there is no way of knowing how effective it is. But, I have surely made all the mistakes that can be made (and some more) in this not-so-narrow field. I will not bore you with the common amateur mistakes. Here is an example of me going overboard with the ‘being different’ mantra. I bet you never thought of this way to court a girl’s attentions. A few Valentine’s days back, I sent a mail to a friend I had a crush on and wanted to impress after an evening walk with her. Hi, As we were talking the other evening, you mentioned how guys are essentially the ‘same’; in the sense that ALL of them view girls as sex objects. When I heard it, I had trouble accepting it. So, I decided ...

Glenn had his birthday coming up. I called up everyone to seek ideas for an appropriate gift. In vain. "He has everything!" was one exasperated opinion. Some thought out of the box and came up with really practical gifts like skate-boards. I gave up and went straight to the mall with Arjun , hoping to spot something. At the mall, we hacked around for the 'right' gift. Although books were ruled out initially, we gravitated to the book store as a last resort. After sifting through countless books, we were still clueless. I had quite a reputation to maintain in office. After buying many 'right' gifts, I could not afford to lose the plot now. While selecting a gift, there are three things I look for: - Would s/he like it? - Would it be a talking point? - Would it cost within 800 bucks (our usual budget)? So I sat down and went back to the basics. What would Glenn like? What would all men like? Well, that wasn't a possible gift. So, what else? While I was thi...

January 1, 2009 Midnight I could not think of starting the New Year in any other way. I am not a great fan of New Year celebrations – my rational mind tells me it’s just like another day, with a fancy name. But, maybe it’s important for the populace to give hope for a new prosperous year. Its almost like people believe a mere increment in the date will get rid of the soiled baggage of the past. I empathize with them. It may not be logical but its about hope and getting motivated. Starting over. Of course, it’s no surprise that most people live in continuity from the previous year and little changes. But the New Year’s frolic provides, apart from windfalls to the cellular and greeting card companies, a push against inertia. Hope is particularly relevant this year, with recession at a global scale ominous in its imminence, diminishing savings, nose-diving investment and impeding the relentless ‘progress’ of human endeavour. Jobs are not secure, banks are not secure. So lif...

All of you must be familiar Google's AdSense - an advertisement application. The Wikipedia article says: AdSense has become a popular method of placing advertising on a website because the advertisements are less intrusive* than most banners. I beg to differ. In a recent correspondence I had with a friend over Gmail, I was shocked to notice that the first sponsored link on the right was Dumped? Instant relief to break-up pain and fastest plan to get your ex back GetYourExBackNow.com Now, I think, I must confess that the 'friend' was a one-time (and a long-time) crush of mine. Nothing more, unfortunately. But how the hell did Google know that ? Nothing in the mail itself suggests anything on those lines. Unless the mere presence of words like - 'arrogance, incompetence.... dick.... bitch' - imply a broken-up relationship. Even though the mail was not exaclty from an ex of mine, but i wonder what kind of key words sparks the AdWords program to show a link to GetY...

3rd May 2008 Saturday 2130 hrs I am running a temperature of 101F degrees. My brother says he's got a 100.5 himself. Of course he's lying. There is no way he could still be that active. Though come to think of it, I had fever on and off throughout the day and I hardly took any rest. Fever always has this weird way of giving an illusion of recovery before it returns with redoubled vigour. Its been a while since I had such a 'high' fever. Whenever I felt feverish, nothing I did would convince the thermometer to go beyond a 100. So today I looked at it with dull self-congratulation as the mercury rose to a 100.9. I'm calling it a 101, I don't care. I always aimed high as a kid. When my mother would put the stick in my mouth I would pray that the temperature be above 105. At least. All the other kids had had malaria and hay fever. Compared to them, my health chart seemed to be bereft of any excitement. Clearly, I was fiercely competitive as well. Now with time, and ...

The following is an email sent to Ms. X by Mr. Y. Y is an ex of Ms. X and she moved to a different city soon after breaking up. They haven't been touch for years till a couple of days back X and Y chat on Gtalk. Then X gets this mail: Hey Sexy ! Hey X watsaa ! hows life ? how are u yaar , long time naa ! so where are u , someplace naa ? hows da place , i hope its nice ! im missing u alot yaar ( as a friend not more ) . just so you knoe ive broken up with my girlfriend . a long time backactually , sometime in september . so how are you , wen are u comin back to india? You have any new boyfriend or sumin , i mean i gues u shud by now ! a chick like u can easily get a rockstar . i know no1 can match me and after me uve got high expectations but its okay , you ve gotta give oder guys a chance u knoe . im so sure dere are tonnes of guys who are dying to talk to you and have a crush on you ! So temme , do u miss me or have u just forgotten me ? you shudnt have left and gone to delhi ya...

Somename * was very pleased with himself. He was returning to IMSc after attending to some work in Adyar. It was almost quarter to eight. He had promised his friend he will be back in IMSc in time for dinner. Somename was feeling very smug about keeping his promise. He had traversed heavy traffic on mud-sloshed roads, weaving through honking buses and stuck cars. He particularly recalled, with a satisfied smile, how he had overtaken a Toyota Camry on his rather rickety MTB Hercules, borrowed from a PhD student. As he neared the bicycle road, (which lies to one side of the very wide Old Mahabalipuram Road) he remembered that the bicycle road was submerged from the thundershower earlier that evening. Weighing his options between riding on the wrong side of the main road and taking the footpath, he chose the latter. His boisterous mood helping that decision. But there was a glitch. He would have to get off the bike to lift it on to the slightly elevated footpath. That did not feel right...

Debasish* was in a pensive mood (girl problems as usual). He was riding a bike he borrowed from a PhD student, returning from a refreshing bout of cycling. The bike, being a stylish MTB (Mountain Terrain Bike, for the uninitiated), had two sets of handlebars. Debasish was enjoying the fresh air with his hands on the upper ones. As he neared the IMSc gate, he noticed that the narrow entrance was partly blocked by a group of fellow summer interns. But in his very deeply pensive mood, he neglected his noticing this very noticable obstruction. So he carried on, unruffled. Meanwhile, the guy blocking the gate noticed the onrushing Debasish (with a very pensive expression on his face). He tried to move out of his way only to realize that Debasish, in trying to avoid him, moved in the same direction. Now Debasish swerved away and reached for the brakes. To his immediate wonder and anguish, the upper handlebars did not have a set of brakes with them. Brakes were there only for the lower ones...

Chennai has turned out to be most difficult to travel in, especially for a non- Tamilian like me. The public transport system is not really bad. There are loads of buses, and quite frequent too. But sometimes the destinations are written only in the local language. And if you ask for bus routes, using as much sign language as you can manage, one gets a queer 'all buses go there' answer. The auto-rikshaw guys here have made quite a name for themselves for their knavish tendencies. As I was forewarned, I avoid taking an auto as far as possible. So, invariably I end up walking most of the time. But walking has its limits. So me and my friends from Delhi (we are all here for the summer) try to borrow a bicycle whenever possible. Our bicycle rides have been quite eventful. Kanishk* was riding his bike late at night. It was past 1 am. He and his friends had just been to the Besant Nagar Beach. He had been dreading the ride back through the dark and desolate road from IMSc (where his...