Purple

Another lame attempt at acrostic poetry. Please feel free to give me your critical view on this

Purple



Pouting red across the setting sky, as the silver drizzles of rain lashed out,

Under the canopy of the dark blue and orange sky was the smiling pink sun.

Rising blue waves crashing and breaking on the white grains of sands painting blank murals, a

Pallette of colours across that beach but not a sight of my favourite colour. The one i

Love, the colour i seek. And right when i lost hope on that

Endless stretch of silver sand, there it was gleaming in the moonlight a purple gem.

And I woke up to see my photo in the Newspaper

It really sounds great that you wake up one fine morning and you get to know that you have your photo in the newspaper. For me it happens way too frequently.

Having journo friends who call me up at odd hours to get a sound bite on something or the other to which i happily oblige. And then the off and on msgs about what picture to be used, to which they normally take my facebook pictures.


And then there are times when I come in P3 because of some theatre or art show, or some odd happenings around the city, to which mostly am unaware until i get a msg from some long lost friend who goes "Hey long time, I saw your photo in the paper about X event that happened at Y".


But this particular Msg that I got one day took me off guard. A relative msgd me saying I have come in the front page of Bangalore times. And I was expecting it to be the event I had attended the previous day. But then when he told me that it was the picture of me in a bike, I was taken aback. I rushed out of my house to buy the paper. And there it was staring right out of the front page of the Newspaper, a Grinning Photo of mine sitting on a Bike.




I did look good but what suprised me was i had no hand in it.

Read through the article and I saw that it was about this Art of Bicyle Trips. A culture trip that i had participated in months ago. There were quotes about the Trip orgainzer and other people who had participated in the trip. I contacted Pankaj Mangal who had organised the trip and asked him why is there my picture in the article, and why was i not informed about it. He claims that Nirmala the journalist was supposed to get back to him on what picture she would be using and confirm before it would be published. He was however not informed and the article was published.

I tried contacting Nirmala Govindarajan, but was of no use. TOI office number that was listed just does not respond. Tried to dig up my contacts with my journo friends who worked in TOI long ago, but still could not get any help.

If Nirmala and Pankaj do read this post, i just wannt to ask them, how can Nirmala take a picture from my album without notifying me?
When i went on the trip i never signed any form that states that the pictures from my album will be used for publicity of any form.

Pankaj Mangal, just one call from you could have saved you all this trouble. atleast i dont have to wake up to see my grinning photo in the paper.

The Untitled Post

This post should have been published way back in the month of march. But people who know me well would also know my alter ego the laziness. But i have valid reasons now. I was busy. No seriously i was. Hong Kong Trip and work and wedding blues and stuff........... So well here goes.

I was getting sick of my routine. Tired of seeing the same old people in my cab. Having the same conversations everyday. It was slowly creeping into me. Work delighted me. But the people around me still felt the same. I was itching for a change. A holiday. Something. A new Office Crush maybe. :p but then lazy me never did anything worthwhile. I sat on the same window side of my cab. Looked at the same old sights while heading out to work. Saw the same girl walking on the crowded road. Saw the same hunchbacked guy selling flowers by the roadside.

It was on one of these normal same old days that i noticed the kingfisher perched on a pole. Its bright coloured small body perched pretty on the tall pole. I saw it one day, and the next and kept seeing it everyday. Perched on the same pole the same spot. Still and unmoving. Almost feels as though its a ceramic piece kept there.

It became a routine for me. Everyday I'd see it perched at the same spot. This went on for a couple of days. I wonder what did it even think. Did it just perch there everyday looking at people travel on that lonely road and laugh at them. Did it perch there to look into the lake and catch its fish for the day. I wonder if it ever got bored sitting at the exact same place and the exact same pole.

Sad life it must have i thought. To be sitting on that same pole everyday at the same time. Its got wings. Wings to tale it anywhere it wanted to. Sit on any pole it wanted. Fish at any lake it wished to. Strange as it may sound i thought about my life. I could also do anything. I had wings too. I could make my change. But i did not. I was making myself comfortable. Comfortable about my routine.


Slowly it struck me how comfortable I was making myself. Gone were the days were i took risks did things that i wanted to and never cared. I would not change my travel operator cause i was comfortable in taking that same particular bus whenever i travelled home to mlore.

I still took the same old bus from the same stop whenever i ventured out on weekends. No matter where i went i made sure i was close to that bus stop where i could tale my bus home.

And i was complaining even when i was at fault. And right there i took it upon myself i need a change. And i ll bring the change. So i did. Stopped taking breakfast at my desk. Sat with random people at the cafeteria. Only they were the housekeeping staff or the catering stuff who come so early but the deal was it was a change. A nice way to strike up conversations with them. I got extra juice glasses too. :p ssshh trade secret. I took walks. Each day a different person.

And then the Hong Kong trip happened. MAJOR CHANGE. That trip has a different story in itself. Did things i'd never would have done. Too explicit to be told here. :p But it changed me. I explored i ventured met people. it did not feel like routine. 11 days each a different me. One day wild, one day calm, one day crazy childlike. I was no longer comfortable in anything. Getting back to India i thought things will get back to the same. But i was wrong it did not. It still felt different. Everything felt new and nice. I was making changes. Seeing things differently. OC remains the same though :p

But then something changed. My kingfisher was not on that pole anymore. It troubled me for a few days. Almost thought it died or something bad must have happened to it. I changed my cab route and timings, got new cab mates and new conversations happened. And then one fine day i look out the window on my way to work and i see my kingfisher perched on a different pole. Its pretty little colourful body sitting on a higher pole, having a whole new perspective. So its not just me thats making changes in life. The kingfisher has changed its pole.




P.S. I could not think of a right title for this post. Help me out here guys. the comments box is right below

Conversations over chai and over just anything.

I was sitting up on my most hate full day again. The weekend. Yeah the dreaded weekend. People should rejoice about the weekend not the friday. Fridays are just evil. They make you think that the weekend is here with loads to do. With sleep to catch up on but its just that false hope. Fridays are just evil. Yes FYI i hate fridays. Incase you happen to read this without knowing me from work or twitter keep that registered. I have a love affair with mondays and i HATE fridays. I do, with a capital H.

This love affair with mondays shall be spoken about in another post cant use up all my ideas on this post can I? Considering i have woken up my lazy fingers to put this long post up.


And so yes i wake up saturday morning with that hideous song stuck in my head. Thank you Mr Vikram Bondal i shall kill you soon; played The songs from The Offspring to get it out. Worked to a large extent. And then i get a ping the usual "what you upto", "what plans you got" from a dozen of friends who have nothing else to do in life but ping me and make me feel miserable about my hate for weekends. Then this journalist friend pings about her cool job. Yes i get jealous. And guess what she makes my jealousy increase by inviting me to a play reading session.


And my lazy sleepy self gets that moment of adrenaline rush and i was off to meet her. With initial hesitation i decided its about time i do something interesting than the cleaning of the house or the aimless wandering around. Hail an auto (note to self blog about the auto drivers) the guy was extra nice. Its been long since i got an auto where i did not have to bargain and where he striked a conversation that was more interesting than my evening i think. He spoke about the different places in blore and how fast this place has evolved.


He shared his views on how rare does he find people speak kannada. Even the kannadigas have stopped appreciating the language. And then i get to the venue. The auto driver was surprised that a building like this has plays out of concern he even asked me if he should wait. I sent him off with a cheesy dialogue in kannada about how women from this soil can tend for themselves. He laughed and moved on. I wonder if he laughed at my broken kannada or did i really make sense.

The place where the play reading was to take place did not look any artistic or theatrical. Met my friend and we went upstairs. Saw a couple wit a cute chubby kid and i wondered maybe these guy are off to the same session as ours. And they were indeed. Me and my friend sure looked out of place in that tiny room filled with artistic and intellectual people. I felt like an intellectual outcast suddenly. But then we got introduced to the group. This theatre group do these play reading session's informally just to keep in touch with each other and basically have chai's samosa's and talk about plays and ideas. Garma garam chai they are called. I did not see the presence of chai or samosa's and i was craving for them.

We started of reading the play Dimetos by Athol Fugard. (p.s. Am posting this through my phone cant seem to post the link. But look it up and read the play. Its just beautiful.) I was assigned the role of Lydia. The reading began. And story took an amazing turn that i was not ready to stop for the chai i had been craving for. We finished the play and i was in love with the character of Lydia. I fell in love with her and with Dimetos. Lydia for her innocence and Dimetos for his insanity and with Athol Fugard for the beautiful play of words that kept me smiling throughout the reading. I did not care about the cute chubby kid crying in the background. Or that noisy fan creeking or the noises in the other rooms. I was in that play and could almost visualise it on stage. An enriching experience indeed.


We discussed and went into the nuances that showed up in the play. The references to apartheid, to recluse, to progress etc. Athol Fugard's play of words when talking about hands. All this put me into a different world. I knew i'd come back again. Not just for the greasy oily samosas. :)

From there i tagged along with this journalist friend to a Maloya music concert at the Alliance Française. (again pls look it up. Cant post link to tell you readers whats Maloya music is all about). The moment i stepped there i felt i was in a different world. I could hear drum beats and conversations in a different language, french of course. I felt like i was not in my country any more. The music just took me to a different world. I ended up getting sound bytes for this journalist friend. And being like a pseudo journalist. Interviewing the artist and his members.

There were a bunch of photographers sitting next to me. One did look cute. And i striked a conversation with them thats when they told me that they were having this stop over before going out to hessargatta for a night photography session. Now ain't that an interesting thing. Got them out of that concert and it turned out they were planning to go to this lake near hessargatta tonight and click pictures of the moon at the lake. All without the fear of the supermoon phenomena where the moon could cause weird occurences. With fears thrown to the winds these three musketeers were off to capture the moon at its splendid best. And it was my day to meet interesting people.


And that was how my random saturday went. With random conversations and interesting people in my day. Like Fugard said in the play every story has a Beginning, A pivot, and an End. I would not call this an end yet. I did not want to call it an end. Like the juggler i prefer to keep it on loop. But then like a case of a bad hangover i got my end at the busstop. A disappointing end.


Standing there late, all alone waiting for my bus,two men walk up near me and stand by me.
One guy asks "do buses from majestic start from here?".

I stared at him as though he was stoned. "This is mayo hall" , i said.

"ah right, but domlur buses start from here?."

"yes they go from here"

"you sure they go via here

""yes they do"

"you sure right?


*Omg yes do I look like some liar who wants people to stand next to me and ask what route buses take. *


"yes 335E goes there and Am getting into the same bus "

Acted busy on my phone, but the bugger wont stop. Almost wanted to show a krav maga move on him and make him shut up

."so are you working? Or studying?"


Did not have to answer that. The bus came and i hopped but damn it! forgot they were gonna hop into the same. The two buggers stand right next to me

. "so are you working for software?"

"No am not into the IT field"

Am so sure this guy is an engineer at some low paying company. I had to make that stupid judgement. Cause i was getting really annoyed by that idiotic stereotypical mentality these men have.

"So where do you work?"

"at an investment banking firm"

"Ah so you did your engineer and then your mba" #facepalm dude like seriously what is with you men?

" not all women in blore are IT professionals and MBA holders"

"No i just assumed cause am an engineer working in an IT firm"

"Yes i can very well assume that. And you proved it by asking me if am an engineer. Cause all engineer grads assume that the whole world is filled with engineer grads with high paying jobs at IT firms. If not they just end up doing MBA's and working in banks"


*also your conversation skills are that bad i so know that you are some topper in your batch and now you want to tell people how cool bangaloreans are who make random conversations with you*>>>i so wanted to add on and tell him this. :p but then the look on his face before i could add on was just worth it
. My blessed phone saved me when it lit up with a call. That buggers bus stop arrived i was in the mood to make him miss his stop and have him suffer but that would mean enduring him for another journey. Told him his stop was here and got busy chatting on the phone. I saw him turn back. Damn i wish i could capture that moment. That *am such an idiot look* he had on his face .


Saturday indeed was strange interesting conversations with interesting people and also some boring random people. Thats what my day's highlight was about. The beginning The pivot The end. In my case like a rotten end.

One whine filled post.

Why i dont want next week to happen? Quite a few guessing around happening about my whines about next week.

1. You getting MARRIED? (love this reason)
2. You got some project. (so why should i dread?)
3. You running away with your bf. (like huh? He would run away FROM ME :p)
4. You stole a million dollars. (sadly i got no time for grand plans :p)
5. Your parents are coming. ( how i wish that was true.i would never dread sigh )


Funny guess work indeed. Well let me break the bubble. Its my birthday next week. So why the dread you ask. Wait no its not because i am going old. I would love going old. Love having wrinkles or grey hair it would give me a reason to celebrate.
I dont want to be here away from all my bumchums, my loved ones and most importantly from the two. Al and Carrie. This is the thing we three best friends have the birthday on the same day. Every year its a big thing for the whole gang of us. Everyone looks forward to Al, carrie and Nessi.'s birthday. And its celebrated in much gusto. A whole day at the beach or going out for a long lunch or just spending the whole day riding around the city in our activas. The all girl gang fun.


I miss all that. I miss being with people who i know care even though they find me crazy. My super star who made my last birthday memorable too. I miss him.

I miss my family who saw to it that each year i turned old they would make it special. Mom cooking all my treats and waking me up in the middle of the night and keeping me awake to receive my calls. Oh yeah i sleep on my birthday. I cant stay awake after 12.30am. So friends who know that, squeeze all their calls in that time frame. "wait put nessi on conference she will sleep off otherwise"

So why will this birthday be different? The reason is that the people i always make memories with are all back home. Yeah al is in mlore and carrie in manipal and me here so for both of us its not really going to be a party together. And also considering the rest of us are also flung out across the country and the world. When i whined about with mom she just told me one think. "This year make memories with new people. You still got pinty and drawer." i know i still got some friends here. But i was so used to the old memories am dreading of making new ones.

The other dread is the fact that i dont have anything to celebrate about. Every year i think what have i done to celebrate this birthday and i always had a commemorable moment. This year i have none. Zilch. Nothing at all. No point celebrating it right. So in case you plan on wishing me please bear with my whinings and as my good friend Yulia said "Oh great the whiner is here." Cant really help it. I am growing old and i have done nothing with these 22yrs. *A big depressing sigh*

Where does the fault lie?

Prewarning : this post is written in extreme anger. Some words and references may seem offensive but i dont really care. If you want to read. Go ahead. If you want to answer my questions please do. If you plan on getting judgemental and sling shit on me, the comments column is right below. Feel free.


Situation 1.

A 7 year old girl just done with her dance classes and is waiting outside her school for her parents to pick her up. Usually she stays inside but today she decided to stand at the gate and save the trouble for her parents to walk all the way inside the campus. It was a saturday afternoon and the road was deserted. She was waiting around playing with her pretty pink teddy bear. She looks up to see a man standing next to her. The little innocence in her failed to see what the man was upto. He was playing with her pigtails and asking her name and asked if she wanted chocolates. When she said No. He offered to show her something and promised to let her touch it. All she said to him was "uncle i dont talk to strangers and please cover your shame shame". Right at the moment she saw her parents at a distance and walked towards them unaware of what ever that just happened. It was only when she reached home and her mom asked her about the man did she realise that he was the bogey man that her mom told her to strictly avoid. And also the reason why she should stay in a safe place with adults around. She did not realise the gravity of what had happened to her. But since then she lived with the fear of bogey man who she thought never existed. The bogey man because of whom she could not go out to play alone.


Situation 2:

A 16 year old girl all excited to go to her grandma's place for vacation. And this was the first time her mom was letting her go alone. That meant travelling a 4 hour bus drive alone. Super excited she was standing at the bus stop waiting for the second bus. It was getting a bit late she realised. And she looked around to see a lot of passengers waiting. She hoped to get a seat but it looked highly unlikely, as the people at the bus stop looked like they were waiting for the same bus. She looked around staring at each passenger just to search for a familiar face. A creepy man was staring at her. She ignored him thinking maybe he was just reading the bill board behind her. Finally she heard the bus honk from a distance. She gathered her bags and stood ready. There was a huge rush of people trying to get into the bus. She held her bags close to her and tried to get in. She was only nudged between the crowd of people. Just when she found the foot hold of the bus and tried to step in, she felt an unmistakable hand on her chest. That creeped her and stunned her she stepped in, looked back and ignored it, maybe its just the crowd. As luck would have it, she did not get a seat. She had to stand in between a sea of people. The bus moved along taking along the sardine packed passengers. That very instance she felt someone holding her at the wrong place. She looked back, kicked her shoes really hard on the guy. Punched him too. And yelled a screeching scream. The bus stopped. The conductor came to her and asked her what the problem was? She was just perplexed and confused the guy was trying to run away. She pointed out to him and told them "he touched me." but before anyone could do anything that creepy man had disappeared. And the girl was given stares as though it was her fault. Like her clothes were the problem. Like the fact that she was the girl was a problem. They even told her to relax. Such things happen at crowded places. Too shocked by the reaction of the on lookers she reached home crying. And when her relatives asked her what happened. They threw a spat to never let her go alone anywhere.


Situation 3.

A 21 year old girl attended her first night out. A college party. She promised her mom she ll be home before 9. Considering that the city she lived was shut by 8 and bus services run only till ten, she made it a point to leave the party by 9. Still elated and high by the good time she had with her friends she got into her bus wrapped comfortably in her jacket she was all smiles. She got down at her stop and walked towards home. It was pitch dark and the lane looked deserted except for a few vehicles zooming by. A man came walking by her and touched her. Before she could turn back he walked away swiftly . She screamt a loud curse and that coward just ran like the wind. She traced her steps towards home and told her mom what had happened. The only reaction she got from her mom was a long lecture about going out for night outs and parties and walking the lonely road at night.


All these three situations could be Me or anyone for that matter. Everyone must have gone through such horrifying experiences. But then here comes the part that actually tears you apart. The stunned, helpless feeling that you did not do anything to stop it. The anger inside you that wants you to kill that person. You promise yourself next time you ll be careful. You ll hit back. But when next time happens its the same vicious cycle. You are stunned shocked and taken aback.

To everyone out there who has heard this happen to a friend or someone, am sure you gave this advice to them "You should have wacked the hell out of that creep". Trust me! not a good advice. Its not easy to fish out that pepper spray or stun gun right in time and disable the creepy men. First you are just stunned and taken aback. Next you feel numb and motionless. Your vocal chords give up on you. Your reflexes lose it too.

Do not ever scold them by telling them "You should never walk that lane alone". First things first sometimes even the lane well lit and with whole lot of people around incidents like this do happen.

"oh good atleast you are safe and you were not raped" thats the last thing a victim wants to hear. Yeah she may feel good that she is on the safer side but that can just give that person nightmares and trauma.

"Dress well next time". Like seriously? you think a 7 year kid wearing a frock is provocative. Its the not the clothes or the attitude. Its those perverted sense of brains that these creeps have. And its not initiated by clothes or the place or the time.

So someone please answer me. What pleasure do these uncouth men get by touching women and pouncing on them. And is it a woman's fault that she walked that lane alone, or she did not get a bus that was empty, or she preferred to wait at a bus stop than take an auto late at night?

Is this why we celebrate International Men's Day? That men are experts at getting creepy and scaring women?

MMS - Mangalore Memories Syndrome

It all started friday night with Drawer pestering me on how much fun it would be to just get up hop on the bus and come home with her to mlore. My mangalore. All thanks to her i suddenly fell homesick. I tried hard to finish work as soon as possible. With a pounding head and work piling up i worked like i was on red bull but nothing seems to be getting done on time. I gave up, no way could i get it done on time. That made me all sulky and moody. I wanted to go home. I wanted to go home. That was all that was ringing in my head. Even the big bar of chocolate did not cheer me up. I was all sulky the whole friday night and no i was not pms-ing it was more like mms-ing (Mangalore Memories Syndrome). Haunted by it whole night long. I had dreams and nightmares about ppl from my mlore life.

Saturday morning i decided its time i did the most dreaded activity. SHOPPING. And lets see if retail therapy can work its wonders. Trust me it never did. I always hated shopping. And always will. Cousin happily tagged along and we started off on the maniac journey in the streets of blore. I was hoping that we could just sit on the bus and stare at the vehicles whizzing away. But as luck would be it, we stepped into an over packed bus. We were packed in like sardines. Reminded me of the mlore buses. Where the conductor would not spare even an inch or a centimeter, and stuff passengers into the bus. The bus dangerously tilting and
chugging along the road. Same experience here. Except i never got to smell anyone's armpits. Thank God for the Volvo buses. But yeah I stood the whole way. Whole freaking hour. I reminded myself no thinking of home. No getting sulky. No haunting memories to make me home sick.

Famished by just that ride we decided to have lunch first. And we went to this restaurant called Kudla. Oh yes its a mangalorean restaurant. There its in my system now am missing home more than ever. But it was a good thing. The restaurant did remind me of home in a good way. The false wooden ceiling reminded me of my grandma's house and we both cousins just could not stop getting nostalgic about the old days. Blame it on the place or the food. I could not help it. The kori rotti, the bangda fry, and prawn masala rice just stuffed my happy tummy with nice mlorean memories. Conversing in tulu with the waiters and the owner, it truly felt home like. But still made me sulky. I wanted to go home. .

And then we walked all the way to brigades. Again nostalgia crept in. The long walks i took to go anywhere. The walks i took home. The walks i took to college. The way i kept pestering my friends. "Lets just walk". This was just not helping. I want to go home.

That was it! i told myself no sulky mood. Am going to enjoy this day. We went to a shoe place to buy some slippers. And i dont know what came over me i started bargaining in tulu. That wasn't the surprising part. The baffling part is when the shop guy responded in tulu. I did not know whether to hug him there or just give him the money and scoot. Thats what i did, i just scooted from there. Could not bargain.

While walking around the place i saw someone familiar. I did a double take only to realise i was seeing things. How the hell can a person come all the way here just for a day. This is just not helping me. I got sulky again. Distracted myself by shopping. Went about spending on things that i would not normally spend so much on. Retail therapy just does not help.

Too tired with all the exercise of shutting myself away from mlore memories. I had enough i told my sister. Lets just go home. We could not get a direct bus. So we got down at marathalli and she took me to this store. THE MANGALORE STORES. It had everything mlore in it. Red rice. Green chakkulli's, beaten rice, rose cookies, cockum. All sorts of other food items. The famous SRR masala packets just hit me hard. They are the same masala makers that manufacture those lovely masalas right near my place. I remember walking past that place and i could smell chillis and strong garam masalas. Who am i kidding. I cant run away from mlore memories. It will stick and stay with me forever like a leech.

Not to forget i ended my day to a nice tender coconut. The sweet water and and creamy malai just lifted my mood right there. Best part i atleast found my little mlore here in the maddening blore. No more sulky me. If i cant go home. I ll get home here. Time to start loving this place. Time to start making memories of Bangalore.