dispenser of India's destiny - jaya ho

I ride to work everyday; I like the pleasant ride where I can zip off every other bikes, cars, buses and park right next to the Reserve Bank of India. I then talk to the guards of RBI for two minutes, inquire whether they had breakfast, what did they have or about their kids, family anything and everything. One day we started talking about bikes, the guard used to ride a 70s bullet was fascinated at my thunderbird (naturally!). The conversation went so long I got to work an hour and half late. Anyway, the better part of my day comes usually when I have my breakfast at this small hotel right next to where I work. Nope, it aint the food, though the food is good. It’s these two kids 8 and 5. Elder brother carrying the sister asked for money on the first day, I said ill buy them breakfast instead pay them money. The sister agreed so I got them breakfast, 2 idlies, some rice and milk. I am known for my disregard for the status quo but this routine just stuck to me. The brother sister duo just bring back memories and obviously the brother is the caring one of the two (pun intended).

The routine is been going on since almost a year now, so I have decided to ask them where they study and what their parents do. They disappear as soon as I pose the question, of course with the food – but that’s ok. I catch them two days later at a different intersection, get off my bike and talk to them. I said I don’t care what your parents do, but if you kids are interested I would like to pay for your education. The kids speak Telugu (which is my mother tongue) so I talk to the lil one and ask her if she is interested in studying to which she eagerly responds yes. The brother then takes her away saying he needs sometime.

The next day I have an unexpected visitor – the kids’ mother. She blames me for rotting her children’s heads and I should not speak to them anymore. She mentions how she is a construction worker and gives them 20 rupees a day to buy food and if they are hungry they need to earn more by themselves and the kids chose to beg. After a heated discussion between me and her, my co-workers pull me back sensing it was a lost cause. I still tried to woo the kids with food, chocolates, and notebooks to get them to study. The brother being the elder used to walk away or just grab the stuff and run away, the sister could do nothing other than flash her sad eyes.

Today (18th November 2011) I see the sister begging once more in front of the hotel and a man literally pushes her off. I reprimand the man very seriously (I am 6’0 and heavily built – he wouldn’t dare retaliate) and then talk to the lil girl, tell her had she taken up my offer to study she would be spared of these experiences. The little girl looks at me eagerly for food, but I want my point to be taken and not just because I buy her food. So I said I wont buy her anything when she starts crying. Unable to take it I get her a banana and asked her if she would like to study at a nearby school where I used to volunteer. I mentioned how she can see her brother every one hour and the principal is a sweet woman to which she says, she prefers begging as it is easy and runs away. The brother then walks up to me, stomps on my feet, gives me a cold stare and walks away not losing eye contact.

Bharatha bhaagya vidhathaaa
Jayahe jaya he jaya he


(image courtesy - google, where else)

PMSing

Parked Motorcycle Syndrome

Laws of Distraction

almost 2 years since I said something eh!

Things have changed, quite significantly if i might add. The only thing that remains is my tag as the "distractor". A lovely distraction, the 'big D'istractor etc, you get the point.

I do not play by rules, i make em as i go...so apparently this post is gonna be short.
May be, im sayin may be if i make one up on my way, i sure shall stop by to post the same.

But mind ya, distraction is an art

A gayt (pronounced great) initiative

The state of affairs on the homosexual front though not too charming are humanizing steadily. Manvendra Singh Gohil’s old age home for the elderly homosexuals is an exceptional example to cite. Manvendra comes from a background that has boasted royalty for over 6 centuries. He is openly gay since two years and has been an enormous advocate for homosexuals. I cannot fathom the thought that has gone into starting such a novel project. In this homophobic land of ours, homosexuals who are out, are met with socially outrageous circumstances. If people in their prime are treated as outcasts, I can’t comprehend what elderly homosexuals in dire need of assistance have to go through.

In this demanding world where family relationships are as brittle as they could be, where appointments are necessary to see your own kith and kin – indulging the elderly homosexual demographic would be a herculean task. In a society where homosexuality is still a criminal act, the 39-year-old prince, who was disowned by his royal family for coming out with his sexual orientation, felt that there was a strong need of a support system for such people - a gallant act that necessitates appreciation. The ashram is to be built on the banks of Narmada and will be a joint effort of the Gohil’s Lakshya Trust and Narmade Har Sevashram Trust.

HIV is a common ailment faced by homosexual people and the old age home intends to educate and help people affected through an advanced medical unit. HIV awareness is not too extensive in the Indian demographic; this initiative to address such an imperative issue is noteworthy. In his highness words, he says the crematorium planned, is to ensure the gays and HIV patients receive same honor as any other -even after they pass away.

Here comes the punch line from the prince if you guys don’t object me adding the adjective - with great splendor. The old age home is open to all and doesn’t discriminate if a person is not gay or if that person is not HIV positive.

Here is a lesson to all of us.
Good look Prince Gohil. For all your noble deeds, you will still be a prince to me even if your family disowned you.

It takes more love to share the saddle than it does to share the bed

I've been riding bikes since I was 10 years old, starting with a Bajaj chetak my dad used for work. The scooter was what I’d love to call a limited edition. It was insanely heavy and for some reason it found a stable place in my heart. I remember taking it out every weekend and trying to max the speed limit on it. I just can’t remember the number of times my dad or his colleagues caught me speeding or jumping high up on a road bump. That would just result in me not being able to ride the bike for a couple of weeks ~ a fair bargain. Even the word Ecstatic I believe, cannot do justice to what I felt when I popped my first wheelie. When I showed my dad the same trick, I was completely deprived of the bike for a long long time.

I think it's very clear-cut: you either have motorcycles in your blood or you don't, and once that experience is there, it never fades away. It can be pushed back and down, but it never goes away.

My protracted and meandering journey with the bikes I’ve ridden till date has been a testimony on how to subdue and endure this passion. As I matured, I began to drop the need-for-speed and revitalize my motorcycle-riding experience into a pleasure enhancing adventure out into the world. There were occasional wheelies and stoppies just for the heck of it. You tend to respect that beast of a machine more each day. To me it was like having a soul mate. I fell in love with my ZZR, I named Dhannu (after a fable about a donkey my dad used to say while I was a kid) and I don’t think I can love anybody else (well except my folks) that way. You know how you get a warm feeling in you when you see somebody you really like. How your face canNOT stop smiling when that person approaches you. How you spend your nights knowing you would see the person again the following day. As creepy as it might sound that is exactly how I loved my bike. There is this girl who kinda made my heart dance a little recently which coincidentally reminded me of my bike and here you go a write up on my love. My only love!!

You share a bond with that special friend or whoever, and they can complete your sentences, sense how you would react to something, like you-for what you are and love you-for your defects. I feel my Dhannu completes me. I remember all those twists I took on those mountains I was riding. The bike was also a part of me contemplating those adrenaline gushing turns. This feeling is inexplicable and only those who are as crazy as me about these mean machines can understand what I am talking about.

It could be explained in the words of Paul Tetul (If I have to explain who this is, you are not qualified enough to read this!!)

You're the guy that'll be sneaking out of your bedroom at three o'clock in the morning to look at your bike. ~Paul Teutul, Sr., American Chopper, "Billy Joel"

I have seen past reminiscences invigorated into a smile as people who use to ride come over and talk to me about this bike: it has mystique and a bad-boy reputation and I can't go out on it without someone customarily sticking up a thumb in admiration or giving me a big grin as I glide by or pull up to a light (Yeah I used to stop at lights!). I hope I won’t be one of “those” who “used” to ride. There were days when I used to think ~ a day not ridden is a day lived short. It’s been a year and 2 months I have lost out of my precious life. When snow could not deter me from riding how a puny little job could bum me out of it?

Hang in there my friend, I will be there with you shortly or I shall die trying.

The wretched magnificence of a modern world revolutionist.

Che, the one who wanted to heal, curtail pain, rally round a hand and felt commiserate with the suffering masses/ widespread poverty did much more than what his university or med-school taught him. He invoked a sense of freedom, passion, hope to revolutionaries and non revolutionaries alike. The world as always, did everything in its fraudulent hands to tarnish what he has built, advocated his ideals as extreme and Marxist. Ill let it be that way.

All of a sudden, you should be wondering why I am writing about this fallen hero! I chanced upon an advertisement online selling Che Guevara T shirts, nothing new to most of us. But, comparing El Che to Gabbar Singh, a puny villain in a Hindi movie?!
Outrageous I say!
Abomination is the feeling.
Gabbar is a fun character, I agree but don’t we need to draw a line as to where we need to stop. So all those idiots out there who think Che print T shirts are in thing and all – please do realize this idiosyncratic gentleman is a war hero, a knight who braved any obstacle that came his way so that there could be more quality, more freedom in people’s lives.

If you tremble with indignation at every injustice, then you are a comrade of mine – Ernesto “Che” Guevara

La leyenda viva del Che Guevara

(Che's pic - Wikipedia)

Clink clink!

Here I am wedged in a “sleeper” bus back to Bangalore (a place I cannot get myself to call-my new home). To many of you, who do know why – let me spare you the details.. To those who don’t, read my previous blog post. You basically buy a ticket in this so called sleeper bus for a 5 ½ by 1 ½ berth which is a tad less than what you get when they put you to rest. Being the claustrophobic that yours truly is its really hard to move let alone align your thoughts. This “dude” is rocking to his songs just below me. Wait a second, do I hear….backstreet boys. Bada Bing! That is the only thing you gawt right in the whole night, I say to myself albeit the mellifluous snore of my fellow passenger strumming for the same!

After spending quality time with people I love to identify as friends, I guess this is little price to pay.

Am I complaining?!

Looks like it. Yes I am!

But hey! What the heck?! Life could be better.

For once I should be allowed to take credit for what I do. For once the one I “have to” look up to could stop tweaking my emails using ms word. Thanks but, no thanks. For once those people that need my approval for everything refer to their guidelines before getting me involved. You dimwits, it is for you those guidelines have been set up. For once my ideas should be considered before they are dubbed “innovative” and shut down. So I intend to dedicate this post to one and all, except you!

Clink clink! (Proposing the toast)

To all those who are bold enough to try something new, not because you were left with no choice, but you believe in it – take a sip.

To all those who think about doing something you are passionate about and care about – you are almost there – you get to take a sip too’

To all those who think there is nothing called passion, I need a great life, a great spouse, retirement fund blah de blah de blah – you are awesome – sometimes you are a great source of inspiration – take a sip too

To that friend who taught me the value of a rupee – it could be just a rupee to you but you just made that kid lose value in a rupee by giving him Rs 50. That was after a lil kid asked me for a rupee and I gave him a 50 bill.

To that friend who can shed a tear for friendship.

To that friend, well the one who taught me what it is to be a friend, every single day of my life.

To that friend, who heard me rant on and on and on.

To that friend, guide, supporter, mentor and everything – I have learnt so much from you, I thank my stars for having you in my life.

To that friend and a person I look up to, if I could be half a man that you are – I can die peacefully believing I have lived my life.

Last but definitely not the least my beautiful chelli. Sometimes I wonder if we were born to the same parents, her - so gorgeous and I, well you know me! I am very happy I could also call her my friend and proud to see the woman she has turned into.

Here’s to all you people, to people I am getting to know and to this journey called life.

Mood : Cranky

Music: Emosanal Athyaachaar from Dev D.