BREAKING NEWS : MY HOUSE IS UP FOR SALE

How should I react if I knew that my house was virtually sold, without either me, or anyone in my family even having the slightest clue about it! After four hours of unfathomable lunacy, I am sitting in front of the system. I am angry, at the same time; I cannot help but think of the sheer audacity of the real estate nexus in Kerala.

Trust me guys, today has indeed been one of the most eventful days of my life. I don’t know if I should call it eventful, it was crazy, it was annoying, it was treachery like I have never seen before. I am irate; but yes, it has changed my perspective. It’s hard to think rationally now; I will try my best to derive some logic out of the whole ordeal.

Over the past few months, rumor mills had churned out a very infectious tale. My house, which I might add, is one of the most special assets in my family’s life, was apparently up for sale. Now, in a small town like Kannur, such news generally spreads like fire on gasoline. This is the kind of news that can transcend economic, social and even political boundaries. Everyone is mystically related to each other somehow in this town, and such topics are debated intensely whenever there is a congregation. In this case, the famous ‘Mallu Weddings’. After all people need to talk about something over Biriyani! They generally prefer talking about the sorrows and grief of other people. Isn’t that kind?

Now, such stories also have the potential to whip up tragic tales along the way. Stories that range from a father being desperately broke, to tales of misfortunes that occurred to the family after the house was built. Add the superstition element to the scenario, and we have a whole new ballgame. Some coincidental, some manufactured, but who cares, everyone has their AUTHENTIC SOURCE.

Now for some reason, the story never seeped down to my family. I am guessing it’s because people did not want to talk to a family who’s ‘financially devastated’. Some assumed we were in terrible grief, so they let us be. We were ignorant and insulated from predicaments that would have dire consequences; I would like to thank them for their sympathy. Thankfully, no one said that the house was haunted.

Over the past few months, my brother kept receiving calls regarding the sale of my house. It was annoying, but we didn’t care much. We thought it was just a harmless rumor. As time passed by, the rumor spread like crazy. Slowly, our close relatives began to know about it, and that’s when we realized the gravity of the matter. It was bemusing to be honest. Comments like ‘It’s sad your dad has to go through all this’, ‘all families go through issues like this, don’t worry’, ’Sell the house, it’s given you such bad luck’. A whole load of bullshit can piss anyone off. So now, we were incensed. We had to get to the root of this problem, or rather the rumour.

So, my brother and uncle proposed a fool proof plan. We decided to get in touch with the henchmen, and pretend to be a potential buyer. So we called the guy, fixed up an appointment. Our brief was simple, ‘We are expats searching for a new house, which is up for sale. Budget is subject to the condition of the house, but we are looking for a really beautiful house’. Now the guy informed us that there was a house, definitely up for sale for an amount that made our jaws drop! He was talking about my own home! They had by then decided the price for my home.

The deal was simple. We had to get the guy home, he was our main link. My brother entrusted me to GET HIM HOME, at any cost. I knew, I had to use all my acting talents to convince him that I was a buyer. Think of the irony though, I am a buyer planning to buy my own house! He said he would meet us at the nearest petrol bunk. Me and my cousin took off to the bunk. I conveniently dressed myself as the ideal GELFY! Shirted tucked in, shoes polished, and hair neatly parted (it’s terribly suffocating) I had just declared war against the real estate mafia.

We waited for him for about 10 minutes, and as predicted he was on time. He was awaiting his big scoop, little did he know he was selling the house to its OWNER. He asked us to follow him, and I gave directions to my brother “we are coming, be ready”. As we were heading towards my home, he stopped abruptly, my heart skipped a beat. He showed us my school mate’s house, and said this is 'the house'. Now, this was unexpected. Surreal Shyte! He showed me my friend’s house from outside, and said it’s up for sale too (What a bastard!). We started negotiating the rate. I said it’s too expensive. I had to coax him somehow to show me my own house. 5 minutes of 'beating around the bush' worked, he said there is one more house, just down the road. Yes, I got the fucker! I slowly told myself ‘Somebody is gonna get a hurt real bad!”

We followed him, and he stopped near my house. Boy oh Boy! Weren’t my folks waiting for him. My uncle enquired what’s happening. The poor guy had no clue that I had just fucked his case; he swallowed my bait, and now he’s going to pay. Pay for his crime, Pay for his misdemeanor. I felt like Quentin Tarantino, acting in my magnum opus movie! Sigh! there was no background score to accentuate the tension.

We called him inside, and that’s when the saga unfolded. Apparently, our man (We’ll call him ‘The Idiot’ for convenience) was informed by another agent that the house was for sale. So we called the other guy. Now, these guys are bloody thick skinned i must say. The agent came inside, screaming at ‘the idiot’. He then said what he should never have said “Who the hell asked you to get the people inside the house without consulting me’. I have no clue how he got to the conclusion that he could decide who should enter my house! Thankfully, my brother didn’t kill him. It was outrageous. Now, the agent and the idiot started playing the blame game. The agent introduced one more character into the saga , the Big agent.

Now, the Big agent was not in town. (Maybe he was wreaking havoc in someone else’s life), so two of the big agents friends (and they were big, literally) came home to sort out the issue. As the hours passed by, we realized that the hierarchy was a lengthy and scary one. We decided to get to call everyone involved in the scandal. The number’s increased. Slowly, there were around 10 real estate agents in the house, add along with that their friends. Madness ensued, and yes… it was turning ugly. Now, all of them had been assigned to sell our house. I could not control my fury. Very sarcastically I told one of the BIG AGENT’S “Is this how you work”. He said “Yes, you don’t have to make this a big deal out of this” Selling my house without me knowing it, shooting rumours that my family was broke and in grief was a not a big deal after all. Tempers flared, the tension had reached boiling point. It was getting dark; it was getting even uglier. As we figured out the nexus slowly, and how it functioned, we got through to the man who might be the guy who started the rumour. He has apparently struck a lucrative deal with a Doctor who loved the house. The amount has been agreed by word. They are coming tomorrow. We are waiting for him. Thankfully, some of the agents understood the significance of the issue. They have said they will cooperate with us. Tomorrow, we are hoping we can nail the guy behind the madness.

In a nutshell, this is how they work. The big agent assigns many small agents to search for houses. They run around the city, pick and choose houses, and they blatantly declare in the market that the house is for sale. The news spreads like wild fire. They decide the rates too. Exorbitant amounts, we are talking in Crores here. They start showing the chosen houses to clients, and they fix a deal. Then, the agent meets the owner, and gives him an offer. An offer he can’t resist! Some people succumb to temptations. Some succumb to humiliation in society. So slowly, the rates are manufactured, and prices shoot up, like crazy! A house worth 30 lakhs is hence sold for 1 crore as it becomes the market price. Also, these guys have bureaucratic contacts who can manufacture documents. All paper work concerning the house can be made in weeks. Scary isn’t it. Your house might be sold, on paper, without you even knowing it.

Honestly speaking, there is nothing much we can do. As I overheard conversations, some lead me to terrifying spaces. The top agents are not even in Kannur, they are spread over different states and countries. It’s a nexus that is strong, extensive and potent. They are influential, they have big contacts, they can turn things on its very head and they know how to pull the strings.

I can’t help but wonder what has happened to society? Treachery, deceit, profits and cold blooded instincts! It’s indeed a mean, at the same time funny world.

As the madness continued, the agent asked my brother if he could leave for prayer. My brother smiled. Even in treachery, there is always a prayer.

Chapters

When one finishes reading a book, there is this sense of pristine satisfaction that he/she experiences, a feeling that cannot be matched by any other action or thought. Life is nothing but a voyage of chapters, blissfully skipping from one to another, with a few heart aching moments, some engaging ones and some filled with mystery, the very catalyst that fuels us to go on and read the rest.

As I was packing my bags to glide towards a new chapter in my life, I sensed a certain numbness that is hard to elucidate. Premier Residency’s ledge is indeed bliss most of the time (barring the mosquitoes), but sometimes it makes you feel frozen. Frozen in time, Frozen in space, a feeling that is indeed hard to explain. The weather was grim, the breeze made the leaves rustle, I could feel the raindrops in the air, but I couldn’t touch them. It reconfirmed my belief that existence is not always tangible. Was it Solace or Exasperation, I wouldn’t know, and might never know.

Once I finished my course, I felt a sense of delirium to be very honest. 3 years in Manipal can be an awfully long time for some. The characters often remain the same; such is the very structure of the student town. Puzzled countenances were easy to find, because the place often freezes one to oblivion. The place gradually grew on to me; I enjoyed the ruthlessness of the freedom it granted. The ecstasy of independence was too pleasurable to evade. I followed the rules I set for myself, and had the liberty to break them at my own will. I began to understand images, sounds, colors, randomness, emptiness, faces, hearts, tantrums, anger, fear, politics, ego and slowly, myself. It pained me to face rejection, but I slowly embraced it too. Indeed, the Manipal Bubble had encapsulated me and a host of others into a sense of false belonging. A fascinating mixture of elation and anguish, coupled with the most insane people one could ever get to meet.

But yes, I was looking forward to a new chapter in my life. A Chapter that had promised me knowledge. A chapter that would lay the path for my monitory needs, a chapter of new experiences, new interactions, more learning, freshness and radiance.... Deep down though, I wanted to get back to that Bubble, and feel the sensation all over again

The few months post college were bitter sweet. Family time was refreshing; the warmth is infectious, the food is mind numbing, the coziness of the blanket back home is something unexplainable. But the world suddenly seemed mean. Materialism, Money, Paid favors, and Portrait smiles were all that I could see. Frustration grew exponentially; the randomness I enjoyed so much in the ‘bubble’ seemed to be my biggest opponent. I feel conviction kills spontaneity, but the moment I stepped out of the ‘bubble’, I realized spontaneity is not the order of the day. This chapter was tough for me to digest. I was a man without a plan, and now in a very precarious place… No man’s land. What next? The question kept popping up, I no longer felt insulated. I needed the bubble back, or I had to face the music, rather the cacophony of the vicious world and its heartless souls. This chapter was indeed distasteful, and I couldn’t wait to get back.


Once again, I set the rules by myself. I needed time, to experience the euphoria again, to meet the ones that meant the most to me, to escape the ferocity of the competitive rooster coup, I wanted some imagination back into my life, a spark of inspiration that I could not ignite in my previous chapter. In search of a new beginning again, I was back, back into the bubble again!

I saw those faces again, some were filled with elation, some cheerful, some were flustered, some confused, some angry and some fed up. Nothing much had changed in the ‘Bubble’, but that’s how it’s designed to be. I sensed people around me after a long while; the isolation I endured in the saturated world was now a thing of the past. I was jubilant, as I saw emotions again. Real or fake, it sometimes doesn’t matter, I prefer symphony over monotone.

The long lost associations were reignited. Discussions, Conversations, Monologues and at times silence, they all followed. It was overwhelming. Many stories were reminisced; many moments were felt all over again. There was warmth, touch, and resplendence. Some new friends were made, some were re born again. There was theatre, there were people, there was rebellion, and there were many sappy songs to add zest to this exciting chapter. Over the many lunches and dinners, I let everything out. It took time, but I was able to share my happiness, thoughts, annoyance and frustration to those who mattered. And yes, there was romance in the air, adding spice and life to this beautiful chapter. No wonder the colors looked more vivid. Love is to sense, Love is to feel. I wish she held my hand sometime.

Some atrocious movies and many goodbyes’ later it was time to leave. Was there are reason to leave, not really, but time draws up on everyone. It’s never easy to say goodbye, but that’s one thing the bubble thought me. You need it let go, even if it’s tough. I think I am letting things go, I am ready to be consumed by the mean world, I don’t feel inspired, but at least I don’t I don’t feel lifeless. Maybe that’s what the bubble offered me this time.

In the pastiche of faces that I came across, some endeared to me, some were ignored like the many we choose not to look at during our journeys, and some may have become etched in my heart forever.

As I boarded the bus to No Man’s Land, I wasn’t sure if the memorable chapter had come to an end. Some chapters are left incomplete, and I have a feeling this chapter is one among them. Maybe there is more to add, maybe there is more life left. Till then I shall wait…

Here I am, back in No man’s land… waiting to be pristinely satisfied…..

The Clock and the Saturated Man

I love my balcony. I would even go on to say that its one of the most principal sources of my ongoing education. By education, I don’t mean Academics, which is the unfortunate stamp forcefully tagged along with it. I have managed the highly over rated ‘A’ word gracefully, or so I believe.

I sit in my balcony because of a few reasons. The ‘four walled’ feel I get from my sitting hall is often quite overpowering; My Balcony gives me a new lease of life, a breath of fresh air quite literally. Secondly, owing to the significantly high temperatures outdoors, Dad has put up some strict rules of which keeping the AC switched on at all times is a absolute must. So, one could say that it’s a desperate act of escaping the terrible chill indoors. Quite ironical though, as sometimes, one could smell the roads, and at times sweat, due to the appalling heat.

Thirdly, it shows me time!

At 6.30, every evening, I see this White Prado stopping at the signal, right across the road. I have never met the guy who drives it, but I know him. He is what I would call the Saturated Man. Now, Saturated Man is rich, because he is driving a Prado!! He works in a big company, holds a dignified post in his office. He goes to office at 7 in d morning, and returns at 6 in d evening. Everyday of his life!

Saturated Man lives in fear; he knows he can never be a secure citizen in this country. He is just one radical move away from being deported from the country that feeds him. He lacks social security, his family life is an arrangement, it lacks the vividness, the romance, the love that has somewhere down the line all been lost during the fight to survive, and he goes back home every evening, not having the slightest clue where his life is headed to.

I have tried placing myself in Saturated Man’s shoes. I see that the pay scale is amazing, the most magnificent malls are five minutes apart, the luxurious hotels are just around the corner, just turn around and I see a fast food joint, the roads are clean, everything is available… and still I am saturated!

I stepped out of the Saturated Man’s shoes and all these things seem bizarre. What if the pay is high, what if the malls are awesome, how often can I have delicacies from the same place, how does it matter if the roads are clean. How much can I enjoy all these things? What am I doing with my life?

Now, the clock work precision with which people work in the UAE is indeed fascinating. A wonderful thought, but come to think of it, the mundaneness is petrifying. There is no interaction, the rooster coop is so big, one loses track. Like my friend said, it’s literally a rat race.

The artificiality that envelops this region makes history highly intangible. I believe, we fall in love with cities because of its history. The VT station in Bombay, Eiffel Tower in Paris, Coliseum of Rome, they are all prime examples of how we connect with the past. The situation here though, is different. History seems to be swept away, without the faintest hesitancy. All I feel is the heat, and not the history. Saturated Man doesn’t care!!

Maybe it’s the case with every soul living in any sophisticated city. Maybe it’s because we believe we are content with what we have. Maybe it’s because we have not had the time to stop, look up and think.

But how could the Saturated Man think, if he thinks, won’t he be left behind in the rat race?
He wouldn’t be on time then. And if he isn’t on time, I would keep searching for him, which would make my hot tea go super cold…because at my place, tea is served, at 6.30!

On time… again!

Indian Railways - The real India lives there

I was looking forward to a break this weekend. My vacations kinda din go according to plan. The dream FILM never took off. It was very disheartening to see a whole load of planning go down the drain.

I reached Manipal on the 8th of Jan. Ever since, our whole college has been busy with our college fest Article 19. There has been a cascade of good and bad news all along. Things are going ok, and i really hope it churns out the way we have been planning.

In between, ma friends had left for Goa.FINANCIAL CONSTRAINTS, and Worried Parents = No GOA!!

So, when my folks told me that they would be reaching India on the 31st, i was ecstatic. The Break was ON... finally...

I took the train to Kannur at 7.30. I couldn't get a sleeper class ticket. The general compartment was cramped like always. I gingerly steeped in, because i love traveling comfortably. There were no seats available, hence i decided to rely on my powers on observation to entertain myself, and it's only then i realized, how culturally dynamic India really is.

I saw some really colorful people, Some of them were drunk beyond imagination, some were depressed and lonely, some slept on the floor, some of them smoked beedi, while some sang songs.Some read about Obama, some vociferously blasted George Bush. Every now and then, i also came across working professionals, most of them frowning. Traveling everyday can be expensive, and it so avidly showed on their face.

I reached home, and out of the blue sprung a trip to Chennai. Sleep, good food and rest went out of the window. Another 16 hours of trains..the bags were packed.. and exactly 16 hours later, i was at the same station.. OFF to Chennai!

This time, i was allotted a ticket in the AC compartment. I was just reminiscing my journey 2 days back. There was a phantom shift in people. Families, young couples, businessmen, laptops, i pods, trendy phones and a lot of pleasant faces. I assumed they were all very happy. Some of them slept throughout the journey, while others involved themselves in interesting discussions. Once again Obama was the center of discussion, among a group of elderly friends. That's the human thought in a nut shell, we all discuss the same issues, the ambiance may differ, the may people may vary.. but the discussions are mystically inter connected.

We reached Chennai in the evening. We had to meet a few people there, and after that we traveled across the city. We went to the Marina beach, and GOD. its huge! We also visited M.G.R's(a famous Tamil actor) tomb. A beautifully built structure, me and ma dad walked along the pavement, and discussed how stars become demi-gods in Chennai... We saw a few churches, and headed straight back to the railway station.

Our train was scheduled to leave at 11.30a.m. We settled ourselves amidst a confusing set of seat numbers in the train. There was a pretty girl sitting next to us. I kinda figured that she was traveling alone. Oh ya, forgot to mention, i was completing my cycle of compartments with this trip, i was traveling via sleeper class to Kannur.

A few minutes later a drunk old man came and sat next to her, a few minutes later i heard her scream, the poor old man was a little too tempted seeing the pretty girl. He tried grabbing her leg(Testosterone and its effects), ma bro immediately informed the cops. The old man was too drunk to even realize that cops were screaming at him. She said thanks... and a few hours later, we had a engaging conversation. She spoke about her love and admiration for Prophet Mohammed, She told me how she loathed Chethan Bhagats books,Her love for Biographies and books related to reality We spoke about Khaled Husseini, Feminism, Her half German-half Mallu boyfriend who was her ex Boyfriend's best friend,her lovw for runnig log distances and her wish to Swim in Kannur's beaches.

There was also a dental student, traveling wit us in the same coach, who spoke a lot to my family. She spoke about her love for Chethan Bhagat's books, her love for Fiction, her adulation for Sidney Sheldon, and how she planned to join the army once she completed her course.

I reached Kannur at 2 in the morning.Sleep deprived,tired, and irritated, i got off. As the train slowly began to move, i realized, that India. lives in its Trains....