Of bags, logistics and rickmen of honour

This is the kind of thing that always happens to other people; the kind of thing you always get to listen to and then react in awe or amazement or pure melancholic understanding, depending on how the thing ends. The difference here, as you may have guessed by the predictability of these opening two lines, was that this kind of thing happened to us, namely Dolas, Athar, Naren and yours truly.

We were doing all we could to get out of the house in time to get hold of a rick that would take us from Aundh to Wanowrie without making too much of a fuss, the kind of fuss rick drivers normally make when they smell a meaty fare from a gullible customer. Thanks to the new 'badge rule', our industrious rickmen at the auto stand who always drip with the essence of honesty and have the sun shining out of their backsides didn't dare to risk a ride into the city, as they didn't have/couldn't get hold of any badges (and one would normally think these blighters were the pioneers of the practice of jugaad). We eventually had to flag down another passing rick and get down to brass tacks immediately. After a short, hurried mutual consultation regarding the distance to be travelled, the actual fare and the leniency to the rickman for breaking the cardinal law of ricks by seating four brats like us, we scrambled into the confined space, applying the back forth back forth principle of confined seating, with a bag and a guitar in tow.

We spent the next 45 minutes seated in akward positions. Naren squeezed in at the far corner, me squeezed in laterally opposite to him, Athar seated at the edge of the seat with the guitar in his hands, between Naren and Dolas, who was, of course, seated comfortably like he always is. When we finally reached Om's place in Wanowrie we tumbled out of the rick gratefully. It was quite like the relief you feel when you unbutton an agonizingly tight pair of trousers and collapse on the pot to take a well deserved dump. Another round of haggling issued between us and the rickman who bravely stood his ground despite being confronted by the four of us blokes. Ten minutes after the dust settled and the rickman had gone away fuming,:

"Give me the camera. "
"Who has it? "
"You took out the camera, no?"
"Where's the bag? "
"Oh Shit!!!!"

It's not rocket science. You guessed right.

Naren and Dolas immediately turned around and set off walking in hot pursuit of the rickman who was probably halfway back to wherever he had wanted to go next. To be fair, one could always hope against hope that the fellow hadn't gone more than thirty feet before stopping to refill his stock of beedis or gutka or whatever. But alas, that was not to be. The mutterings of expletives gained momentum, frequency and amplitude as the shock and the realization of the loss washed on to us, especially on to Naren whose camera it was, like a tidal wave.

Sense prevailed soon, and we got down to the task of doing whatever we could to figure out a way to get the bag back. Hopeless as it sounded, we left our phone numbers with the security at Om's place, just in case the rickman returned with the intention of returning the goods. I also mobilized Jd into action, calling him up and asking him to do the same at the rick stand from where we had caught the blasted rick. (This may not have worked either, as this rickman was not a member of that stand).

Well, what was done was done, and there was no point hanging around in the cold feeling sorry about the whole thing, hence we proceeded to A's place for the party which we were on our way to attend and become the soul of, albeit with a bit of a tropical cloud hanging over our moods. The party and the next couple of days passed with repeating the story to others and basking in the reactions and suggestions of the audiences, much like the kind described in the opening lines of this anecdote. Maybe it was my excessive reading of Sherlock Holmes stories, but I also had the idea of putting up an advertisement in a local Marathi daily, with the description and contents of the lost bag, requesting the finder to apply at 221b, Baker street, and tipping off inspector G. Lestrade too for good measure, so he could calmly step out of the shadows of the doorway at the last minute, arrest the culprit and take all the credit for the success of the investigation without any objection on my part. The master stroke of the plan, as the good Doctor might have written four years later.

But before any of this could happen, Dolas got a call from the virtuous rick stand where Jd had given his number, inquiring about a lost bag. Our honest rickman, all reasons for fuming forgotten, drove all the way to Infosys Hinjewadi armed with our goods and showed up smiling from ear to ear, as if he was in a Happy Dent advertisement. He also insisted on a reward for his honestly much higher than what Dolas had estimated, relieving him of a sizable wad, and offering his number and guaranteeing his unfailing services, whilst beaming all the time and overflowing with the milk of human kindness. Not that we ought to complain too much though, it was pretty good of him to do what he did. Needless to say, we were more than elated and amazed at this new development, and we sort of felt like how old Red Rakham might have felt had he stumbled upon his treasure in the cellar of Marlinspike Hall instead of getting stabbed and blown up in his boat!

Shit happens, like Forrest fleetingly said. But shit sometimes un-happens too. That blows away the rain clouds and replaces the scene with the lark on the wing and the bird on the song and God in his Heaven and all that. All’s well that ends well!

Societal Hypocrisy

Have you ever come across a bit of news that, when you first read it in a newspaper or an on-line news website, or in a link to it forwarded to you by a friend or acquaintance in a usual careless forwarding of an email which our generation so often does without a second thought, makes your eyelids fly open in disgust, aversive wonder and disbelief at the unbelievable sickness of itself? The kind of news that makes you wonder to yourself or aloud to your friends in turn, what the world and its madmen are coming to? Like, for example, the news about a father imprisoning his children for decades in his cellar to satisfy whatever his carnal needs are, delusional as they may be, or a report on the rape of a two year old girl and so forth; there's no dearth of such news these days. It is also a possibility that there's nothing new about these things; that they've been happening for decades and every generation comes across these bits of news and wonders what their times are coming to, and what times the generations to come will go through when it's their time to live.

Social networking has enhanced the spreading of news by leaps and bounds; and by this means I came across this horrible piece of news about how a man, apparently in a drunken stupor raped a stray female dog. (I use the phrase because the term used for female dogs has more than one denotation these days). Disbelief and disgust at the sickness of the act hits the reader first (in some cases maybe even amusement, but that's not on my mind). Rape in itself is terrible enough and committed in abandon despite what the right of mind would want to think about an improvement in social life, without it being committed on animals. I don't suppose I could ever describe the disgust and indignation I felt when reading it.

The news also mentioned that the dog was horribly traumatized after the incident, and was in a kind of unstoppable frenzy, with nothing anybody could that could calm her down. Such was the trauma of it all that she had stopped eating altogether. Street dogs in Indian mohallas, although stray normally have pseudo homes; they feed on leftovers from houses; they sleep on porches; and in most cases they do attain a slight attachment of sorts with the people in these mohallas. Naturally, the dog in this case had several to sympathize with her, and one of the families had volunteered to care for the dog post her trauma, and to try and get her to eat again. (A thought, aside from the context of the episode, which arose in my mind, was the completely contrasting meaning it gave to the commonly used phrase ‘treated like a dog’.)

While I do appreciate the kindness and sympathy of the family that did so, I cannot help but wonder at the hypocrisy of society, if I can call it that, which made itself evident in this very act. When a woman, a fellow human being, is subjected to such a crime, she immediately gets ostracized without a second thought; is boycotted by all other 'respectable' citizens; gets looked down upon in the same light as someone in the flesh trade or as someone to be avoided, if possible banished from social life altogether as though it was her fault for getting raped in the first place; her chances of getting married into a good family by the traditional arranged marriage system are as of that moment shattered for ever; and this is typical of majority of Indian society.

I know there are laws in place to deal with the criminals who commit these crimes, but I can’t say with conviction as to whether they are enforced to the full extent when it comes to bringing them to book.

I cannot help but wonder at the apathy when it comes to the woman's plight; that few would bother to care about the physical and mental trauma she inevitably has to go through; that she would become the object of ridicule and mental abuse when she needs, on the contrary, support and solidarity from the society in bringing the criminal or criminals, as the case may be, to justice; that she would find it next to impossible to find acceptance in society because a heinous crime was committed against her, as opposed to the sympathy which ought to be shown, like the kind being shown to the dog in the incident mentioned. I wonder what values and ideals of right and wrong we are imbibing in ourselves; what we in turn will imbibe in our future generations.

And while talking about the larger realm of right and wrong when it comes to the imbibing of the values, this is probably the tip of the iceberg.

An amazing story

This is a forward I got in the mail, just got to share it with someone!

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This is an Incredible story!
In 1986, Peter Davies was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from Northwestern University. On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air. The elephant seemed distressed, so Peter approached it very carefully. He got down on one knee, inspected the elephants foot, and found a large piece of wood deeply embedded in it. As carefully and as gently as he could, Peter worked the wood out with his knife, after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot. The elephant turned to face the man, and with a rather curious look on its face, stared at him for several tense moments. Peter stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but being trampled. Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned, and walked away.

Peter never forgot that elephant or the events of that day. Twenty years later, Peter was walking through the Chicago Zoo with his teenaged son. As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to near where Peter and his son Cameron were standing. The large bull elephant stared at Peter, lifted its front foot off the ground, then put it down. The elephant did that several times then trumpeted loudly, all the while staring at the man. Remembering the encounter in 1986, Peter could not help wondering if this was the same elephant.Peter summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing, and made his way into the enclosure. He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder. The elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of Peter legs and slammed him against the railing, killing him instantly.

Probably wasn't the same elephant.

This is for everyone who sends those heart-warming bullshit stories.

Goodbye, Moonwalker..

The moonwalks, the vocal hiccups, the mid-lyric hoots, the full bodied twist and 'POW' punches... Gone too soon...

My first real introduction to English music was Michael Jackson's 'Dangerous'; it was released in the mid nineties when both me and the brother were in school. Bro had borrowed an audio cassette of the album and had gone completely bonkers over it. The music was infectious, and I joined in the madness; slip in the cassette, close all the doors and windows of the bedroom, play the song at full volume! I remember 'Jam' being one of my favourite tracks. It was just a matter of time before I came to like more and more of his songs, and not long before I got completely taken by the man's dance moves.

Asianet's Rosebowl channel used to screen videos of MJ very often, and throughout my school life more and more people of my age began to try aping his dance style. Michael Jackson by now has probably become a household name everywhere in the world, despite all the reputation shattering controversies. I reckon almost everyone in the world across the continents at least knows the name of the man. From students to professionals to corporates to shopkeepers to autorikshaw drivers and so on. He had inspired a whole generation of performers, and his legacy will live on I guess.

It has been years now since I last heard his music, and was hoping that the 50 sold out concerts he was to perform at would begin a fresh lap for the king of pop. There was always a little thought at the back of my mind, a hope which believed he wasn't done yet, that he would return to enthrall the world once again. It was just utter shock I felt when I read the news of his death on the Internet. It seemed like a lie, a stupid dream at first, it almost seemed like a silly rumour. But then it sank in slowly, and every song that I've heard of his began to play and replay in my head. And now I find myself listening and re-listening to all those songs I had come to love and enjoy over a decade ago; just like I did when I first started listening to Michael Jackson.

I'm sure such is the case with millions of other fans across the continents. Perhaps that in itself is a tribute to his genius; all his music probably being played all over the world right now an indication of how much his music and performances were loved.

Thank you for the joy and the music MJ. May you find peace.

Skid knot

The monsoon is here, and it has announced its 'pre-arrival' with a crash, if I may put it that way. You can never be too careful in these initial rainy times if you're on a two wheeler, and in the midst of the rainy times too for that matter. Though once you get used to it raining all around you, skids and wet concrete are much easier to negotiate.

I got off at the Mikon office on Dhole Patil road to pick up my faithful wheels this evening. Pretty pleasant evening it was too, lovely breeze blowing across the lands and I prepared for an enjoyable ride back through some mild traffic. And then it began to pour. Knowing that the first rainfall can be pretty dangerous for motorists, bikers in particular, I kept the speed pretty less, avoided any daring overtaking rushes, in fact avoided any overtaking I could help and all looked good for a wet but safe arrival back home. But that was until I got off the University fly-over and on to the Aundh main road.

The road here is concrete, and things get wildly slippery when it starts to rain. Anyway, a speed of 35 - 40 km per hour didn't matter at all, when this tempo traveler around ten meters ahead of me slowed down rapidly. I braked cautiously, but not cautiously enough I guess because the back wheel promptly locked up and slid away to the left at a shocking angle. Needless to say, I went down like a pin into the mixture of earth and concrete. Can't say I was a hundred percent aware of myself in that fraction of a second it took me to fall, but thankfully I had enough sense to let the bike go crashing across while I slid on to the road. I was extremely lucky (thank God) there weren't any vehicles close behind me, and that there were a bunch of helpful on lookers who darted across in a trice and helped me and the bike to the shoulder out of the highway. I'm also immensely thankful I had my helmet with me! (I came to know later that around 8 or 9 bikers had fallen on that very spot over the last five minutes)

Besides kicking myself for not being careful enough, I can take a few things away from the incident.

Avoid using a two wheeler when it has just started to rain after a dry spell. If you must, then
(a) wear a helmet, even if you need to bike to the next block
(b) stay in as low a gear as you can help. Use engine braking as much as possible, because your regular brakes are very likely to skid on the fresh mess of mud and concrete/tar
(c) Avoid concrete roads as much as possible (especially if you're driving in India). These roads are more durable than tarred roads alright, but they offer a pretty poor road grip especially when wet.
(d) Drive slowly. Let it take ages to go from point A to B even if they're a couple of miles apart. Like someone somewhere said, it's better to be late, than be 'the late'.

Despite taking all precautions, shit happens.
(a)If you find yourself skidding helplessly and falling, let the bike go. Your bike can be fixed in time no matter how banged up it gets, but not necessarily you. Let the bike slide/crash/go and do your best to fall in a rolling movement to minimize impact.
(b) If you don't feel up to it after the fall, do not drive again right then. Get yourself taken care of first, you can always pick up your bike later.
(c) If you decide you're fine and to continue driving, ensure first that everything on the bike is working perfectly. Test your brakes, front and rear, take a few test turns, make sure your handle bar alignment is fine.
(d) This is a handy precaution. Keep 'ICE' contacts in your mobile phone. In case you lose consciousness after an accident (or for some other reason), a passerby would use your mobile phone to contact someone you know. ICE stands for In Case of Emergency. Have more than one ICE contact, and ensure it's a family member or a friend you can trust.

If you witness an accident where you are a passer by, try and stop the traffic coming on. Common sense would suggest that oncoming vehicles would stop immediately when a mishap occurs in front of them, but common sense doesn't prevail for some. If the victim is not badly hurt, ensure that he or she has been moved to safety to the shoulder. Otherwise, try to get professional help to move the victim.
If the victim is unconscious, an ambulance or hospital and police immediately. Then use the victim's mobile phone to search for ICE contacts. If he does not have ICE contacts, look for numbers stored under 'Home', 'Dad', 'Papa','Pops', 'Mom', 'Ma' and so on. If you can't find any such contact, call the last dialled number and inform them of what has occurred. It might just save a life.

Everything said and done, prevention is better than cure. Be safe, drive responsibly. If you live in a place where helmets haven't been made compulsory, do not take the liberty of not wearing one. It may look or feel 'cool' to feel the wind in your hair and all that, but it's not worth it.

If you live in a place where helmets are compulsory, buy a good, standard one (this applies to the former too). Do not buy a cheap helmet to 'adhere' to the rule, and wear something which will offer as much protection as a flower pot will. Spend a little more on the helmet, it's to protect your head!

Then there is the other counter theory against the use of helmets that people who call themselves 'free spirits' often quote, that it causes whiplash. Well, consider a crick in the neck, and consider a crack in your skull. Then choose.

Some Dave-il Matthews

While I sit making life easier for the International Transfers team, I have dave matthews singing 'Some Devil' in my ears. Borrowed Yogi's headphones, plugged into my cd player and well, it's quite awesome!

Will be extremely disappointed if the battery on this thing runs out before the end of the day, because there isn't a shop in the vicinity for miles which store batteries!

Even Flow - I

There really is very little point trying to drive on the roads of Pune while adhereing to traffic rules, signals, and right of ways. It's almost like the rule is exactly opposite of what it actually is/should be, of course, that is unless a traffic constable 'feels like' flagging you down for some palm scratching. 

Those of us who make sure our vehicles are in proper condition are stopped regularly for checks, which is OK, but buses, ricks which make it impossible for anyone around them to breathe thanks to their colour defining exhaust fumes are apparently not expected to have their pollution levels under control. 

Signals.. Try waiting at a signal for a red light to turn green, ten blokes in cars, bikes etc. are likely to honk their gonads off at you for not breaking the signal and 'saving time'. 

You might see a really dignified looking gentleman driving a really expensive big luxurious car, and some part of you might just expect the blighter at the wheel to drive, well, at least responsibly. (You might even expect him to be educated, at least in the traffic laws) But be not surprised of the afore mentioned chappie veers dangerously across the highway from the left-most lane in order to take a right turn somewhere, thereby causing ten others to swerve for their lives for screech to a halt, in turn creating problems for vehicles coming up behind them. If given a piece of the mind, you can also expect the driver to dismissively justify himself - "But I had my indicator on."

Most vehicles seem to have some kind of built in device that prevents it from overtaking on the right side. It seems like a practice unheard of. Not only do most drivers overtake on the left, they generally don't let anyone overtake them on the right side either. Even ambulances and fire brigades have it rough out there, because people take their own sweet time to get out of the way rather than let the emergency vehicles go first. There ought to be a law which can throw you in jail if you obstruct an ambulance. (I think such laws do exist in some other countries)

The general mindset is even worse, because no one gives a rat's ass about road safety. The pedestrian gets it the worst I think. Gone are the days when you could safely tell your children to walk on the footpath; it is now used by scooterists and bikers who wish to by-pass a traffic jam or a red signal queue to get ahead, or used as a safe parking zone by cars, or used by hawkers to sell whatever it is, or is generally blocked by something or the other. The pedestrian crossings have been reduced to nothing but some random paint marks. It's no wonder you hardly see anyone using them! I heard a colleague of mine say to his friend - "If you stop at a signal over the pedestrian crossing stop line, the bloody cops act as if you've crossed the line of control!" Pity that such people are loose on the streets, with a license to drive. 

What a 'HUT'

I was walking back from the bus stop last evening on the way back from work, strolling at an easy pace to appease the sore toe I'm suffering from, and chanced to see an interesting looking signboard for a dhaba cum restaurant called 'HUT-K', and decided to give it a dinner try.

The place, at least visually lived up to its name, there were a few bamboo huts built inside. A part of me felt a little hopeful about there being a nice place close to home where we could get some quick meal in the future until the food arrived.

We'd ordered a mixed veg curry and chicken kolhapuri, the former turned out to be a heap of tastelessly cooked vegetables tossed in an overdose of various masalas, and the latter was nothing but boiled chicken mixed with lots of oil, chilli powder and added red colour. Quite tasteless, except for the heat of the chilli.

I don't think I'm going back there again.