I have known Ali for 7 years now. I remember meeting this puny young boy when dad had moved into our new apartment. His Dad, a very generous entrepreneur used to run a small supermarket right next to our apartment. He had four sons, Ali being the youngest. They were very popular in the neighborhood. All of them possessed the most wonderful smile one could fathom, and each time I went there, Uncle gifted me one chocolate. They all ran the business together, and have done remarkably well.
Last April, if my memory doesn’t fail me, Uncle had met with a fatal accident in Abu Dhabi. He had gone to clear his telephone bills when a car took him out. A lethal crash, and the pleasant face I so often saw, had just left all of us for good.
I would meet Ali everyday. Every time I stepped out of my building, I would see him, hooked to his phone. He would have a wide smile on his face. It’s not that we were best of friends. We hardly fielded conversations, yet we used to meet everyday. A customary ‘Hi’ and a flashy smile just outside my building, was fairly routine.
The young man was now ready to get married. A week back, he had met my elder brother at the supermarket. Ali informed my brother about his wedding. He was a shy young man of 23, eager to start his life with the girl he had met a year back. Lost in love, hoping for a bright start, he clearly had the look of a happy man. He was heading to Iran the very next day. He told my brother that the Nikaah was scheduled sometime this week. We wished him luck. It’s quite surreal to see someone of your age getting hooked up and married. Apparently, in Iran it was quite a common thing to do.
Over the years, I have visited Abu Dhabi on numerous occasions. Over the past six months, I have been here, more or less, trying to find a suitable job. I can safely say that I have mastered the art of planning. Every week, a new plan was hatched. Regrettably, I haven’t yet mastered the art of execution; From Plan A to Plan J, if this trend continues, I shall soon run out of alphabets.
As usual, the day began on a mundane note. I woke up when the Sun was at its peak, Shining away, bright and happy. Considering the fact that my social life is at an all time low, Friday is indeed a day I dread. The world seems frozen yet bright, none of the cars move from their parking space, People sound like sleep-deprived androids. Friday is the day every working human in UAE loves to sleep.
After my prayers, I watched a horrendous Hindi Film called Life Partner. There was this one scene in that movie, when a ridiculously arrogant father in law compared his bride’s IIM Ahmedabad degree to that of any college degree in India. Clearly, I wasn’t in for a good day. Chauvinism, Ear Popping screeching, terrible filmmaking and Fardeen Khan followed. I tested my patience for an hour, and disdainfully, switched off the television.
I got into the virtual world. Spoke to a few friends - the usual everyday conversations. As the day ploughed along, my brother came online. We started discussing about my Plan K, and clearly this was reaching nowhere. Plans were struck down, new ones were made, and in the process of making a decision, a hundred different scenarios were sketched. A lot of effort goes into planning. Firstly one has to set a time line, secondly, everything has to go according to plan, and thirdly a lot of obstacles have to be considered, or maybe even manufactured. It involves faith, brains, and time. Time hasn’t been a factor off late; neither has been my indomitable faith. I was now officially a man, with many a plan. As the discussion stretched to every possible scenario we could comprehend, we arrived at Plan L and Plan M. Dad looked at me, smiled and said ‘let’s go for a walk.’
Just as we got out of our building, it seemed as if the lights went out outside. We figured out that Ali’s Supermarket was shut down. We met the caretaker of that building, and enquired. He told us that Ali had passed away in Iran; he had met with a fatal accident. On a Friday, He had performed his Nikaah just a few days back.
For a second, I felt completely numb. An unexplainable void, a sense of desperation, anger, and absolute helplessness, splurged through me. Both of us froze into oblivion. It was extremely difficult to recover from. I still remember, how my brother told me about his plans. The young man was looking forward to start a new life, paint a new canvas in his life, and suddenly he had vanished, into thin air. At the age of 23, the young man with a mobile phone, and a magical smile, was no more. I looked at the bench where he used to sit, it laid there, empty, without a companion.
It’s sometimes futile to think way ahead of our lives. Such incidents make us realize how important it is to live for today, be with the people we love the most. Death is so frightening sometimes, it’s not the pain that scares, It’s the emptiness that’s terrifying.
For a believer, these things are destined, for an atheist, this is how nature balances out. Yet, it’s unfair. I spoke to dad for about an hour after that. He said, Life doesn’t stop there though, we figure out ways to move on. New chapters unfurl in front of us, terrible grief is often followed by anecdotes of happiness.
Ali My friend, May your soul rest in peace. Amen.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Mystifying Colors
The day began on a very colorful note. As usual, I woke up very late, but it’s hard to blame myself for that. I understand why some organisms hibernate during winters; it’s indeed the best time to sleep. The warmth of your blanket, and also the realization that you don’t have to wake up to face a brooding boss early in the morning is quite blissful. I am enjoying this induced hibernation from tension, stress and work. An aesthetic city, plenty of movies, tea and the occasional kebabs make Delhi the ideal place to chill… Literally!
Anyway, I soon logged into the virtual world and bumped myself into a rather amusing puzzle. Mysteriously, I read colors all around. Dazzling colors, bright and dark, soft and hard. I must say that I love colors. Colors in concept itself excite me. The possibilities are never ending; the pleasure to the eyes is at times too appealing. So, I was curious to figure out was happening. Maybe it was color day. On enquiring among a few friends, I received weird replies. Some said it’s a secret, while some laughed at my ignorance, or rather naiveté. Now, this indeed was intriguing, there were colors all around and I had no clue what the mysterious secret was. Finally, a received a link from one of my seniors, and as I read through the article, I realized that there was a ‘strong social cause’ associated with this whole color ordeal.
A Detroit blog was one of the first to suggest that the color update craze was started by women in Detroit who were trying to raise awareness around Breast Cancer Another blog backed up that notion and included the following Facebook message which reads as follows:
“Some fun is going on…. just write the color of your bra in your status. Just the color, nothing else. It will be neat to see if this will spread the wings of breast cancer awareness. It will be fun to see how long it takes before people wonder why all the girls have a color in their status… Haha.”
So there it was. I had done my Sherlock Holmes routine and unraveled the truth. The mysterious colors where merely a vehicle to promote ‘awareness’ of breast cancer. The more I thought about it, the more I laughed at the sheer idiocy of the idea. The tidal wave of stupidity that followed for the whole day was irritatingly assiduous.
At times I think we have become absolutely numb and tactless. We are ignorant beyond belief, thought process is at an all time low, and like the famous comedian Louis CK said ‘we now live in an amazing world which is wasted on the crappiest generation of spoilt idiots who don’t care’.
First things first, let’s not confuse information for awareness. We live in an information age were news is readily available, but if people fail to dissect and assess this information obtained, it neither serves him nor humanity any purpose. Knowing about a social stigma is one thing, being aware of it is totally different. Does this bra color gimmick make people aware of the causes of breast cancer? Do people realize that late or no pregnancy, birth control pills, substance abuse, lack of breast feeding obesity and lack of exercise are some of the main causes for breast cancer. Long story cut short, do people realize the effects of lifestyle changes on the broadening of such a disease?
If someone is aware of these things, they would try implementing changes in their own lives. But overlapping cultures have changed our very way of living hasn’t it? Alas, there is a parallel line of thought where a lot of women are against pregnancy, citing it as an obstacle to a successful career. While some say its added responsibility and strain. There is no doubt that substance abuse is at an all time high. It’s nothing but a contagious combo of hypocritical ignorance which is truly hard to explain.
If one observes Human history, there have been many revolutionary movements. The bra burning movement in the 70’s, at an ideological level was very potent. It stood for a lot more than the terminology in itself. Very recently, the Pink Chaddi campaign against the Ram Sena gained phenomenal attention. Highly popular, not only was it strong structurally, but also the idea behind the movement was thought provoking. Sadly though, the latest ‘announcing my bra color movement’ makes absolutely no sense, and the fan following is just bewildering. At best it does provides for some voyeuristic pleasure. There is no reasoning or thought behind the whole ordeal, and sadly, people women from all over the world have readily accepted it without a flinch, and more frighteningly, without even a thought.
As a society by default, we take cribbing is taken for granted. We whine about how irresponsible the media is. We abuse the paparazzi, and hurl stones a media houses for their sheer audacity. It’s important to recognize that media regulation is possible only if one cares about his/her own privacy. Millions of users tweet every single day, informing peers and friends about every diminutive facet of their lives. It involves exchange of articles and information, photos and videos. At times though, some people express mood swings and at other times some inform people about the most irrelevant details like what someone got from the nearest supermarket. Dissipation of information is important, but informing people about when they are going to take a dump is not going to bring any sort of revolution.
What the likes of Facebook and twitter have done is something people need to closely introspect. Every photograph, every video and every bit of information one puts up is readily accessible to millions of people all over the world. While most people consider it as a minor hitch in an otherwise profitable venture, mindless acts such as the one above will not help anyone; rather it will modify social norms to a level beyond control, and maybe even beyond repair.
So where does the fault lie? Is it ignorance, lethargy, our mutinous ways of living, cyber space or the human intellect in itself? Is it really difficult to take two minutes off and think about our so called ‘humorous gags’ and the sheer stupidity of ones actions? Religion has often been termed as blinding, but episodes like these tell me that WE as a society never have been so blinded by what’s fed to us. People spend millions on post graduate programs but sadly education from the best universities all over the world do not help us in differentiating stupidity from common sense
At times it’s also a matter of self respect which somehow seems to have evaporated from within us. As one of my sensible friends Ruchika (very few that I have, I realized) commented about the girls who readily flaunted about their bra colors ‘If tomorrow you boys want to know what 'color' bra they are wearing ,and if you ask them casually, they should not call it eve-teasing or misbehaving’.
Social networking is indeed true democracy. There is absolute transparency, at every level, and that includes our own lives.
I surrender to the power of the Web World. It can mystify… and stupify millions!
Anyway, I soon logged into the virtual world and bumped myself into a rather amusing puzzle. Mysteriously, I read colors all around. Dazzling colors, bright and dark, soft and hard. I must say that I love colors. Colors in concept itself excite me. The possibilities are never ending; the pleasure to the eyes is at times too appealing. So, I was curious to figure out was happening. Maybe it was color day. On enquiring among a few friends, I received weird replies. Some said it’s a secret, while some laughed at my ignorance, or rather naiveté. Now, this indeed was intriguing, there were colors all around and I had no clue what the mysterious secret was. Finally, a received a link from one of my seniors, and as I read through the article, I realized that there was a ‘strong social cause’ associated with this whole color ordeal.
A Detroit blog was one of the first to suggest that the color update craze was started by women in Detroit who were trying to raise awareness around Breast Cancer Another blog backed up that notion and included the following Facebook message which reads as follows:
“Some fun is going on…. just write the color of your bra in your status. Just the color, nothing else. It will be neat to see if this will spread the wings of breast cancer awareness. It will be fun to see how long it takes before people wonder why all the girls have a color in their status… Haha.”
So there it was. I had done my Sherlock Holmes routine and unraveled the truth. The mysterious colors where merely a vehicle to promote ‘awareness’ of breast cancer. The more I thought about it, the more I laughed at the sheer idiocy of the idea. The tidal wave of stupidity that followed for the whole day was irritatingly assiduous.
At times I think we have become absolutely numb and tactless. We are ignorant beyond belief, thought process is at an all time low, and like the famous comedian Louis CK said ‘we now live in an amazing world which is wasted on the crappiest generation of spoilt idiots who don’t care’.
First things first, let’s not confuse information for awareness. We live in an information age were news is readily available, but if people fail to dissect and assess this information obtained, it neither serves him nor humanity any purpose. Knowing about a social stigma is one thing, being aware of it is totally different. Does this bra color gimmick make people aware of the causes of breast cancer? Do people realize that late or no pregnancy, birth control pills, substance abuse, lack of breast feeding obesity and lack of exercise are some of the main causes for breast cancer. Long story cut short, do people realize the effects of lifestyle changes on the broadening of such a disease?
If someone is aware of these things, they would try implementing changes in their own lives. But overlapping cultures have changed our very way of living hasn’t it? Alas, there is a parallel line of thought where a lot of women are against pregnancy, citing it as an obstacle to a successful career. While some say its added responsibility and strain. There is no doubt that substance abuse is at an all time high. It’s nothing but a contagious combo of hypocritical ignorance which is truly hard to explain.
If one observes Human history, there have been many revolutionary movements. The bra burning movement in the 70’s, at an ideological level was very potent. It stood for a lot more than the terminology in itself. Very recently, the Pink Chaddi campaign against the Ram Sena gained phenomenal attention. Highly popular, not only was it strong structurally, but also the idea behind the movement was thought provoking. Sadly though, the latest ‘announcing my bra color movement’ makes absolutely no sense, and the fan following is just bewildering. At best it does provides for some voyeuristic pleasure. There is no reasoning or thought behind the whole ordeal, and sadly, people women from all over the world have readily accepted it without a flinch, and more frighteningly, without even a thought.
As a society by default, we take cribbing is taken for granted. We whine about how irresponsible the media is. We abuse the paparazzi, and hurl stones a media houses for their sheer audacity. It’s important to recognize that media regulation is possible only if one cares about his/her own privacy. Millions of users tweet every single day, informing peers and friends about every diminutive facet of their lives. It involves exchange of articles and information, photos and videos. At times though, some people express mood swings and at other times some inform people about the most irrelevant details like what someone got from the nearest supermarket. Dissipation of information is important, but informing people about when they are going to take a dump is not going to bring any sort of revolution.
What the likes of Facebook and twitter have done is something people need to closely introspect. Every photograph, every video and every bit of information one puts up is readily accessible to millions of people all over the world. While most people consider it as a minor hitch in an otherwise profitable venture, mindless acts such as the one above will not help anyone; rather it will modify social norms to a level beyond control, and maybe even beyond repair.
So where does the fault lie? Is it ignorance, lethargy, our mutinous ways of living, cyber space or the human intellect in itself? Is it really difficult to take two minutes off and think about our so called ‘humorous gags’ and the sheer stupidity of ones actions? Religion has often been termed as blinding, but episodes like these tell me that WE as a society never have been so blinded by what’s fed to us. People spend millions on post graduate programs but sadly education from the best universities all over the world do not help us in differentiating stupidity from common sense
At times it’s also a matter of self respect which somehow seems to have evaporated from within us. As one of my sensible friends Ruchika (very few that I have, I realized) commented about the girls who readily flaunted about their bra colors ‘If tomorrow you boys want to know what 'color' bra they are wearing ,and if you ask them casually, they should not call it eve-teasing or misbehaving’.
Social networking is indeed true democracy. There is absolute transparency, at every level, and that includes our own lives.
I surrender to the power of the Web World. It can mystify… and stupify millions!
Monday, November 30, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
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…..
Thursday, August 13, 2009
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!
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
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....
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....
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
"Mumbai Rescued"... A bizzare headline
About 10 days back, i was aimlessly loitering across our college library.Feeling bored and lonely, i needed some respite, i decided to chill in college for a bit. Library always serves me 2 purposes. When i am in one of those serious modes, i would pick something up randomly and read.Whatever little i know about Indian politics are from these endeavours. Otherwise(most of times that is), i would lurk around and find someone to hit a conversation with).
That day the library had very few people. I caught a glance of one of my classmates Sarah.. who was reading the Indian Express.The headline said.. Mumbai Rescued.... the first question that came across my mind was.. FROM WHAT? IS saving Oberoi and Taj the end of the story here?
Yes, all ten terrorists were captured, 9 of them were killed, But does that save Mumbai?
13 days after the vicious terrorist attacks, i logged on to the same news channels which had covered the events. For a minute i really wondered how fucked are we? People were dancing on the streets, celebrating victory! Democracy's victory!!! they said..People spoke about how the spirit of freedom had overcome political agendas. Just one word came across ma mind!! BULLSHIT!
Over the past 4-5 years.. 929 people have died in blasts(Officials figures). There have been 19 reported TERRORIST ATTACKS in India. Mumbai and Delhi have suffered the highest number of casualties. I didn't have the courage to find out the number of people injured during these blasts. Also, the very next day after the prepostorous Attacks in Mumbai,there wer 9 School kids (aged 4-5) who were ran over by a lorry in my hometown.. None of India's so called National news channels even gave a mention about the incident. So what is national news? 9 innocent school children dying a pitiful death... aren't their lives worth a penny?
We blame the politicians for every damn thing... we must realize that they are nothing, but a cross section of US. We forgive easily.. we move on.. Tomorrow Rab ne Bana Di JOdi will release in INDIA... and people will be content with the garbage Aditya Chopra serves us.Our lives will move on..we forget that another 929 lives could also have moved on!
Barkha Dutt went head over heels reporting at the Taj and Oberoi, when people at the VT station were being shot at ..i mean 'SHOT AT' simultaneously. I do not propose to say that the hostages at Taj or Oberoi should not be given importance.. My basic question is Simple.. What is the value of Human Life in this nation? I mean we are not talking about cocunuts here!! N still, we the common man post elections blurt out to the media sayin " The spirit of freedom and democracy has gained victory!!" GIMME A FUCKIN BREAK!
So who is to blame?? The media for being so commercialized? The politicians, for being so oppurtunistic? The terrorists, who are just fucked in the head?? or us.. u me and this stupid society which doesn't think to save their life.. LITERALLY!!!
I recently read AMi's blog... n while reading the blog.. i realized how these attacks have changed lives. she loves her Mumbai... But i can give it in writing, these attacks will be remembered as 26/11 in the days to come... and nothing more than that. Remembrance!!!! Democracy!! Freedom... Geuninely speaking.. i am just a fortunate soul who is extremely lucky to still be alive in this country!!! MUMBAI RESCUED.. makes for a good headline!LK Advani said today.. that India will be harsh against these terror... 929 people have died already... So someone please explain to me "what is being harsh?".
And yeah... in the midst of national tension, we had an Idiotic Father and an PAthetic CM who were engaged in a cat fight.. Why? Because one of India's real heroes died while trying to save the people of the this country. Sandeep Unnkrishnan.. Thank you! We are sorry.. for being so FUCKED in the head!
That day the library had very few people. I caught a glance of one of my classmates Sarah.. who was reading the Indian Express.The headline said.. Mumbai Rescued.... the first question that came across my mind was.. FROM WHAT? IS saving Oberoi and Taj the end of the story here?
Yes, all ten terrorists were captured, 9 of them were killed, But does that save Mumbai?
13 days after the vicious terrorist attacks, i logged on to the same news channels which had covered the events. For a minute i really wondered how fucked are we? People were dancing on the streets, celebrating victory! Democracy's victory!!! they said..People spoke about how the spirit of freedom had overcome political agendas. Just one word came across ma mind!! BULLSHIT!
Over the past 4-5 years.. 929 people have died in blasts(Officials figures). There have been 19 reported TERRORIST ATTACKS in India. Mumbai and Delhi have suffered the highest number of casualties. I didn't have the courage to find out the number of people injured during these blasts. Also, the very next day after the prepostorous Attacks in Mumbai,there wer 9 School kids (aged 4-5) who were ran over by a lorry in my hometown.. None of India's so called National news channels even gave a mention about the incident. So what is national news? 9 innocent school children dying a pitiful death... aren't their lives worth a penny?
We blame the politicians for every damn thing... we must realize that they are nothing, but a cross section of US. We forgive easily.. we move on.. Tomorrow Rab ne Bana Di JOdi will release in INDIA... and people will be content with the garbage Aditya Chopra serves us.Our lives will move on..we forget that another 929 lives could also have moved on!
Barkha Dutt went head over heels reporting at the Taj and Oberoi, when people at the VT station were being shot at ..i mean 'SHOT AT' simultaneously. I do not propose to say that the hostages at Taj or Oberoi should not be given importance.. My basic question is Simple.. What is the value of Human Life in this nation? I mean we are not talking about cocunuts here!! N still, we the common man post elections blurt out to the media sayin " The spirit of freedom and democracy has gained victory!!" GIMME A FUCKIN BREAK!
So who is to blame?? The media for being so commercialized? The politicians, for being so oppurtunistic? The terrorists, who are just fucked in the head?? or us.. u me and this stupid society which doesn't think to save their life.. LITERALLY!!!
I recently read AMi's blog... n while reading the blog.. i realized how these attacks have changed lives. she loves her Mumbai... But i can give it in writing, these attacks will be remembered as 26/11 in the days to come... and nothing more than that. Remembrance!!!! Democracy!! Freedom... Geuninely speaking.. i am just a fortunate soul who is extremely lucky to still be alive in this country!!! MUMBAI RESCUED.. makes for a good headline!LK Advani said today.. that India will be harsh against these terror... 929 people have died already... So someone please explain to me "what is being harsh?".
And yeah... in the midst of national tension, we had an Idiotic Father and an PAthetic CM who were engaged in a cat fight.. Why? Because one of India's real heroes died while trying to save the people of the this country. Sandeep Unnkrishnan.. Thank you! We are sorry.. for being so FUCKED in the head!
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