OF PEDALS AND BRAKES...

As I had already mentioned in one of my previous posts , I once got 3rd rank (and Varun got Second Rank.. Only one rank behind Varun...!(and I remember only one mark behind him..!) Wow! what an achievement!!) while I was at 3rd class at School.I look back at this 'Incident' often because it has had and it continues to have a very very significant impact on my life.Exactly one year back, when I was in complete mess with nil ego and negative self worth, I became a 'scavenger' who was searching for confidence of some kind from somewhere and this one (infact only) incident said to me I had once been among the top 5 in a class of 35 (i.e within 15 %) and I still can. This also said to me , If the pass percentage of CA final becomes 15 , I would pass. This hypothesis of mine may sound absolutely stupid to some.However it is not so. You must at some point of time in your life been devoid of self worth to understand this.

I also believe it is always very easy to say that "I will prove him wrong.." or "I will show them what I am made of" and proving to others is according to me is also very easy. I will tell you what is agony and misery. It is saying "Aiyo.. I have to prove it to myself..".. I have been through this.I know the pain. Hence the feeling that I once been among the top 5 in class gave me the soothing effect.

I 'showed what I am made of' to my father(I had promised that I would get into top 3) and hence he got me a BSA-Champ (as he promised) and I insisted it had to be without the support wheels on the side.Half of him wanted me to have this cycle and half of him did not.The hardest part of raising a child is teaching them to ride bicycles. A rickety child on a bicycle for the first time needs both support and freedom. The awareness that this is what the child will always need can knock them hard.(Sometimes , ironic it may sound 'I too feel proud' about what I write, the previous two sentences are such lines.)
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I rode this cycle only within my street. I put upon myself a self imposed boundary. I would not even cross the road.For 'To' I was keeping left. For 'Fro' I was keeping right. However after one and a half years , I grew up and so did my audacity. And for the first time I crossed the road and I was properly keeping left. And only when I did try to cross back again I came as an obstacle to this speeding motorcyclist who in order to not hit me put his front brakes and ceased the motion of the vehicle. However a newtons law(I dont know which) of motion started working and he flew above me and broke not his crown but his helmet alone and I ran after (to my home).

After my parents mitigated for his damages by giving him some money.I was banned to bicycle. That was it. The end of BSA Champ. The champ had become junk. The champ I referred was myself.
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I was in 8th Class and my father decided to buy me a bicycle so that I was no more 'dependent'on my ever punctual School Bus and 'Benjamin'- The rash and arrogant Bus Driver.I was also in a way missing 'Bhakthavatsalam' - The sedate and signal obeying Bus Driver. He had been demoted that year. The school's population had reached something similar to 'Stage 2 of the Demographic Transition' and hence more and more parents depended on our school's own transport to 'pick up and drop' their children.The school authorities to cope with the rush leased a second hand van which 'Bhakthavatsalam' had to drive.
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My parents for once felt I needed to be independent.They said I had to go alone to shops. I had to go alone to a saloon.When they are late , I had to stay back alone at home. They said I had to become responsible..(A Refrain I have been hearing for a long long time).. However.. For all this to happen.. I Said .. First.. I have to have my own bicycle..(or else how will I go to shops and saloon alone depending again on the 'Pallavan'..)
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So.. Myself and my father went to this very famous cycle shop at Broadway(quite contrary to its narrow lane) to buy a Bicycle.. I had already made up my mind to buy the 'geared' cycle.The fascination with gears had started that early.I wanted blue colour but the shop had inventory of only grey colour.However at the joy of getting a cycle, I ignored the choice of colour.
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And so from 'Broadway' to 'Mylapore' began my first journey in my brand new Hercules 'Top Gear'. As the name suggests it was a very 'herculean' task for me to ride the cycle.First, I felt I did not have total control of my cycle as my leg did not reach the ground while I sat on it and secondly the front brakes constantly rubbed against the front wheel as I rode.This is frustrating.
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The effort I was putting to pedal did not quite get me the speed that it deserved.When 'efforts' do not yield the 'deserved results' and when there is something else that is stopping the momentum , all that crops up is disappointment , anger , frustration , irritation and not to mention hot tears .When I look back at this journey from 'Broadway to Mylapore' today , a question that arises in my mind is whether efforts are directly proportional to results ?. And I stand (after having fallen twice) before you today bringing an important truth that sometimes efforts are not directly proportional to results. It is certainly not inversely proportional too. The correlation between efforts and results is certainly not '1'.There is something else.
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Some people call it luck. Some call it divine intervention. I dont know. From a firm believer in luck , I have now began saying 'Luck is cruel. It attaches itself to people who do not depend on it'.
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I think the year I got that bicycle was 2000.'Broadway' to 'Mylapore' seemed eternity.Even more so with those non aligned wheel. So, as I rode I was immersed in futuristic thoughts .I had written an essay in school. It was like , I had solved the Y2K problem and I was rewarded.The fascination with the number 2000 gave rise too many questions and interpretations.
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I felt that many people tend to round off the period from '2000' to '2009' as the first decade of the new century. I wanted to say to them that..'2000' does not belong to the family of the first decade of the new century. This was my personal view and I knew many people would not subscibe to my view outright considering my 'affinity' towards Mathematics.. :)). Also , In the previous century , people referred a year by its last two digits. No problem. What wondered me is the fact that people had ceased to do it the next immediate century ?. Queer!. Cant get it..? See '1997' was simply referred colloquially just as '97'. Why have the people not followed suit ?. Why is '2000' not referred just as '0'. '2001' was not referred as 'one'.
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Thirdly,(this was due to the fact that I saw 'Hey Ram') I wanted to advice people. I wanted them not to write the date as 31.12.00 for 31.12.2000. Why u ask..?.I felt that suppose you write 31.12.00 , the archeologists who will see our writings thousands and thousands of years later may not be able find out the exact date of our works easily when they dig for something called 'Coovum Valley Civilisation'. (Civilisation??.. Are we Sure..??.. We'll settle that question later..). They may get confused whether its 31.12.2000 or 31.12.1900!. I felt this would be a great favour for 'generations to come'.
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And all this thought occured to me as I rode that bicycle.As Christoper Morley put it... "The bicycle, the bicycle surely, should always be the vehicle of novelists and poets". And hence I knew I was a futuristic thinker !. The point that I really want to make here is at that time , I felt I was extremely brilliant. I was antonym to modesty. I now realise that sometimes it is good to not to be modest.
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Hercules Top Gear had a depreciation(all because of my rough handling) rate of 50 percent for a year.And so by the time I reached my plus one( which is also quite an achievement) , I wanted a cycle once again to commute to school which was good 3.5 Kms away.
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I bought this conventional 'Annamalai' cycle... I had then moved to a suburb that is according to me wrongly christened 'Nanganallur'.Nangai'(women) 'Nal' (Good) 'Oor' (Town). I with all my experience now confess none of the women there are 'good' now both in terms of looks and behavior.Since I was new to the place , I did not know the 'route' to my school. I would wait in my cycle at the corner of my street. A 'fleet' of girls with uniform of my school would travel. I used to follow them.(simply because i did not know the route). They had a routine 'long' route by which all their friends home gets covered.They thought I was a 'Poriki' following them everywhere. It took me one week to get a grip of the place and I found a route which was most convenient.I now realise when you follow someone else's route , all you get is bad name even though your intentions are not bad.!

And..from now on.. My way will be always different.
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After school I did not require cycle. I became dependent on my friends who had bikes.Hence one day my parents sold this 'Annamalai' cycle of mine without my consent. I was livid with them. I felt as though a part of mine was being sold.... And I realise now that it was not part of mine but part of life. I have to move on. Separation is inevitable. See how relevant the main title of my blog is!
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And Now I move on with regrets that I have shown moments of madness. The past is something that I want to 'obliviate' asap. I have not been able to cross the line and also I have never been able to get the 'good' name that I felt I deserved ....I am a good person. I know. I hope others will also know.
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As an anonymous said.. 'A bicycle does get you there and more And there is always the thin edge of danger to keep you alert and comfortably apprehensive. Dogs become dogs again and snap at your feet; potholes become personal. And getting there is all the fun.'..

FUN - The word for which I have been searching the meaning for quite sometime now.

Damsel Sans Face...

He became weird. He stood on the bed and was oscillating like a pendulum.In fact his 'to and fro' was with much more precision. With every two oscillations , he nod his head twice.The first nod was like saying yes (that is to say the movement of the head was vertical). The second nod was horizontal.His eyes expressed uncertainty.His mouth was three quarters open but he was not yawning.His face was dull.He was constantly rubbing his right palm across his face and felt the stubble. Often he would catch hold of a single 'long grown' strand (among the short ones) from the stubble and tried to either pluck it or rotate it.
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The vision of his uncertain eyes focused outside his window to the corridor of a posh apartment at an angle of 45 degrees North and at a distance of about 30 meters . He waited for the divine silhouette of a girl. She came to the corridor every evening after changing her school uniform with a cup of some energy drink (probably boost).He could see the girl but the sun would hit the corridor in an angle at which the glare would make it impossible for him to concentrate on her face. Boys do not remember faces of pretty girls was his logic or simply put his own consolation. Her hair was visible. Her dress was visible.(She wore a skirt and a shirt.He had seen her in a pink skirt and a green skirt on alternate days.The shirt was always striped and so he could not make out whether she wore the same shirt everyday).However her face was not visible.He could only see the outline of her face.
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Today was overcast.So he thought he might be able to see her face at last. And as usual she had come today at the same time sharp (today was green skirt). He started looking at her. He sensed their eyes met.He gave an impression as though he was not focusing on her.He remained still. Within minutes (probably sensing trouble) ,she turned and started to walk back from the corridor. She paused for a moment and pushed back the right plait which had fallen in front of her shoulder with a swift movement of her head. The plait zoomed and fell at the back of her shoulders and she resumed her walk clutching both her plaits (how he liked double plaited girls!). Our guy was immersed in the Shhhtyle !!
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He smiled and fell on his bed. He tried to recollect the face of the girl. However he could not. He knew his logic was in fact true. Sun glare or no Sun glare.. Boys do not remember faces of pretty girls easily...
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P.S.1 - With this very small post , I now begin a new series of posts(labels) in the name "Groundnut Bulletin". Much More to come.... :) Hope all of you get to like it..

Water Danced but Mudra Blushed...

Sitting at opposite sides of a corner side wooden table on a noisy , lousy discotheque bar is probably not a beautiful setup for romance.However there were two souls who where absolutely not bothered about their surroundings. There they were immersed in love unaware of the commotion around them but aware of the commotion within them.

However something was wrong. He was drunk and was speaking about cricket.She was hearing and not listening. She realised he was going somewhere off track. She wanted him to talk something relevant. Something about them.Something about how they fell in love.(Eventhough they have re run this part everytime they have met). So... When he gave a pause. She entered..

"Why did u fall for me??..Why ?" .. she asked him.
"Well... Natraj smacked his lips and continued "for the same reason , you fell for me"came the reply.

And as it always happens..Mudra blushed.

Mudra liked him. She liked his frankness. She liked his sense of humour. She liked him for his looks.She liked his shyness. Natraj liked her. He liked her because she was intelligent.

It was in this very beach side bar on the ECR that they both met for the first time. Natraj had come in with his colleagues then. Natraj was neither new to alcohol nor night life. However when his colleagues asked him to accompany them to this only bar in Chennai where girls dance , he was apprehensive.Apprehensive not about whether he must visit the bar but rather about the way he must project himself before those girls. He was a loser in girl matters. He knew it himself. Should he project himself as a playboy ?. Should he be pretend to be good?.Is it manners to tip the girl after a dance?.What would the girls think of him?

However when he entered the bar and saw the dance floor ,all his doubts melted.He saw Mudra . He instantly knew this was the girl he wanted to dance with.To his surprise , he quite easily approached her.She looked at him with grace and accepted with a nod of head.Then they danced under the cold shower with loud jarring music which both of them could not understand.

After some unsuccessful attempts.. his mouth finally released sound when he spoke.
"I am a shy person. This is new to me.."
"Dont worry.. This is my first day too on this job... I am as nervous as you are.." replied Mudra instantaneously.
He remained silent.. The dance was getting mechanical.. There was no chemistry in it. The confident Mudra spoke to break the ice..
"So... you say you are shy with girls... and how come you are here..?" asked Mudra. Natraj guffawed and then spoke by shaking his head horizantally. "I only said I am shy.. I never said I am not a man ". He ceased shaking his head all of a sudden and looked into her eyes... and said.. "do u know..? no man is innocent.. everyone is a pervert."

"Women are too" - said the inner voice of Mudra.
She gave a grin. She was not surprised by the replies from Natraj. After all she knew men speak truth when they are intoxicated.Here was Natraj half enthralled by wine and half enthralled by Mudra. She drew him across a table and looked at his eyes.
"Can you take me from here" asked the confident voice of Mudra.

From 6 am the next morning both of them had become more than just friends. Mudra left the job. A job that lasted only a single night.

That was an year ago...

Now after several of several meetings.. Here they were back to the original bar to celebrate their anniversary very late on a saturday night. Infact it was early hours of sunday morning.

The private conversation in the public place now entered into the next level.
"What is your sun sign?"asked Natraj all of a sudden.
"Virgo... and you?"
"Pisces...."
He smirked.Mudra knew something was coming...
"Can I tell you something.. We both wont get on well with each other at all.. We are not made for each other atleast astrologically..."
"oh.. how come may I ask sir.."
"Yes... we aren't.. Your sign is an earth sign. Mine Water."
"So what ?"
"You are earth and I am water ..and.. All we would be doing together is nothing but making mud.!"

Mudra roared with laugher.

"You know.. This is what I like about you.Your jokes.. even though they are dry , they make me laugh..".

Natraj giggled.

"Remember.. I joked about water.. Is water dry..???"

They both laughed out loud.She gave him the quick peck.In the 12 months in which they were in a relationship, this was the first time.It was special.

"What do men like?.." quizzed mudra.
"Men like women.. thats science.. Men like sports.. thats adventure....Hmmm.. In short..Men like balls.."

And as it always happens.. Mudra Blushed..

"Why is it you always speak well when you are intoxicated." enquried mudra.
"I like being watered....Infact as we speak I need it.."

Natraj called out the waiter.

"H I J K L M N O please..."
The waiter stood still..
" I dont understand sir.." said the helpless waiter.
Natraj smiled and said.." I asked for water.. H to O.. H20..please.. ".
The waiter gave back a smile and obliged..
"Now H20 cube please.."
"What is that sir?"
"I meant ICE".
Mudra was watching this conversation.She felt angry and humorous at the same time.
The sun had come out.

"Hmmm.. lets play a little word game" said Natraj.
"Ok..."
" Fine... I will ask you a question..and you must reply in a single word but in additon to the answer it must mean something else.."
"deal"
"So lets begin.. Can Vijay dance ?"
"What ??"
"Can Vijay dance?"
"Obviously he can. Thats the only thing he's capable of"
"I said one word answer"
"I dont know. I dont understand the game of yours"
"hey its simple.. Its Vijay Cant.. So it becomes Vijaykanth.."
"Aiyo..."

and as it always happens... Mudra blushed.

"Now..Easy one.. Can Rajini dance?"
"Rajini Cant....hussss... Rajinikanth.. I feel like slapping you.."
"wait .. wait.. final one.. Can water dance?"
"Water dance ah?.. There's nobody by name waterkanth.... is it not?"
"But there is something called Water Can.."

He laughed loud.He showed the bisleri bottle the waiter had just delivered.

"Bisleri bottle.. Water Can.."... He laughed again.
"We will stop this game.. Its spoiling my intelligence.."
"Ya.. I love you because of that... Lets not spoil that.. we will stop the game..."

and as it always happens Mudra Blushed.

It was at this juncture that they heard the sound of water rushing in .. They felt the thorns pricking their feet...They heard the people scream...They heard the rushing water break open the gates...They felt the rush...They sensed the panic...

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Water had indeed danced... Tsunami had occurred.
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Natraj woke up a day later in a makeshift hospital.Mudra had succumbed. He saw her being taken away by the waves. He could not understand why he was alive...
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He was still strong with remorse..
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He started to walk home.....
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As he walked there seemed to be a darkness at the end of the east coast road. He extended his hands, pointing it to the dot of black hole. Being used to the balance of his life, the road ahead was too rocky for him. Then, like death, he had memories flowing around his head. The vision of the ghosts he saw in his childhood dreams. The anxiousness when his dad came home. The beauty of the morning sun. The ridiculous thing called education. The awesome winter rains. The parent teacher meetings. The mom`s kisses, the sister`s hugs. The friend fights. The first crush, the first rush of blood because of lust. The futureless present, the past less future. The recognition of beauty. The realization of music. The happiness on balancing a cycle, The first college, the first love, the first moment of satisfaction, the first moment of complete dissatisfaction, the first job, the first salary, the first roommate, the tears, the pain, the unrealized love, the unforgettable moments, the beauty of a child`s smile, the innocence of a child`s tear, the love from the family, the days in no man’s land, the days of exploiting labour, the crooked way to where he was. He remembered everything. He did not cry. He knew he had just has seen the worst . He stood up and walked towards the darkness. His mind was still fresh with yesterday's bad humour.He mind was saying."Take it EASY YAAR on ECR....".He felt like slapping himself. Extending both his arms, hoping to grab someone or something along the way. He walked to the ends of the endless road ..... and then the inevitable .. a flash.. the innocent face of blushing Mudra cut across his mind...

He fell down.. and started crying. Warm tears started flowing...It seemed it could never cease. The cry became louder and louder as he came to terms of the fact that there was no Mudra to blush at him and console him...

Mudra blushed but water had danced.