“Aye yaar sun, yaari teri mujhe apne jaan se bhi pyaari hai……….”
“Ye dosti, hum nahi todenge, chodenge dum magar, tera saath na todenge….”
“I’ll be there for you…..”
Numerous songs and sonnets on friendship. All those sentimental friendship SMSs which keep getting forwarded around the world, the most popular one being “A friend is one who sees your first tear, wipes the second and makes sure that the third one does not come out.”
Is friendship over rated or is it really worth all the hype and attention that is getting … now with Friendship day, Buddy day and what not????
I am an extrovert to the world because I can endlessly yap to anyone regardless of the who they are, how well I know them, whether we have anything in common or not….. But people who know me have seen the real me.. a person who is shy to commit to a relation. I am a great believer of the theory that it is better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all. But I have also in this short life span been through a couple of really painful relationships, relations where I had invested all of myself and then came up with negative returns on my investment. That taught me a lesson.. that when you invest in friendship consider book your losses immediately because no matter what happens in the end you will end up getting hurt…. See the inevitable thing in friendship is that the cliché ending of “and they all lived happily ever after…” never happens because that just is not an option. You cannot spend the rest of your life with your friend/(s). What about marriage? What about starting a family? What about globetrotting for career growth? What about your life? It’s fancy and melodramatic to say “Dosti ka naam zindagi, zindagi ka naam dosti!” But does it actually apply verbatim in today’s fast world?
Moving from Mumbai was tough for me. Away from family and more than that from a dear friend was heart wrenching for me. I knew my family would visit me regularly and in due course of time I would get over missing them very badly. But Neha, how would I get over her. She had become an inseparable part of my life and indeed my own self. She loved me, she cared for me, and she didn’t put up with any of my nonsense. She was the first person outside my family who had seen me cry, who had felt my inner pain without me saying a word. How could I live without her? I knew I would survive but things just won’t be the same anymore. I was leaving a part of me behind.
But God had his plans, I guess……..
I met Veda here, a woman older and wiser than me in age and experience who filled in the gaping hole in my heart and took position both as family and friend. She pampered me, adored me, disciplined me, fought with me, helped me get over the jitters of even considering marriage. Over time she became so important to me that I was at times even ignoring family over her. I either avoided or shortened my official trips as I could not bear to be apart from her. I stayed late at office just so that I could bid her goodbye. I would stay back at weekends pining to see her even if it was for just half an hour, which was all I would get most of the time. At office, we had become a trademark couple. People rarely saw either of us alone. Coffee, lunch, staff gatherings… u name it and we were a together. If either of us were not in our own seats, calls would go to each others desks as that is where we invariably would be. People in office may have gone to such lengths so as to think that we are lesbians… even I doubted that at times. Things with her were not always like a sweet honeymoon. We had our fights. She was too emotional about certain things, she would take offence too quickly, she would for days together finger me the wrong way for something that I may have been a part of..but was certainly not my fault. Many at times I was also to blame. She either didn’t realize or pretended to overlook how important she had become to me. There were times when I felt jealously over possessive about her, especially when it came to she spending more time with her brother and my time with her being curtailed according to his convenience and schedule. I never said that to her. In fact I never said a lot of things to her. She may have guessed …..or not.. I never knew. But I just couldn’t bring myself to say all these things I felt to her…simply because I feared losing her.. I knew we would not be in each others lives too long.. I just didn’t want our time together to end sooner than it was supposed to.
But doesn’t friendship warrant openness and honesty? Isn’t true friendship supposed to withstand all the tests of time?
What exactly is friendship? Is it just people of the same age group hanging out together? Is it a group of like-minded people sharing their common interests? Is it just a name given to a transient phase in life where we meet somebody and enjoy his or her company for a short while and then move on with our lives? Is it something like marriage but platonic?
Is it, to me, all the above and more… much more. It is a relation between two people, whose sacredness, purity and strength is maybe surpassed only by the bond of the umbilical cord.
It involves being in a relationship selflessly without expecting anything in return. In fact, if you ask me friendship falls can be fit into the traditional universally accepted meaning of love sans the sexual gratification or any expectation thereof. In a way, this very fact makes friendship better and more long lasting than “love”. In love a consummation of the relationship is expected, but in friendship, the very existence of the relationship is its consummation.
I have endless questions about what friendship really is? How is it supposed to affect me? What am I supposed to do to keep a friendship going? How do you say goodbye to a friend? I am on a quest to unearth the answers to these questions…….
But, nevertheless, I have been lucky to have a couple of really good friends who have stood by me through thick and thin. I know that despite all our differences of opinion and all those tiffs and miffs I could turn around in the times of both joy and despair and they will be there sharing and partaking both. I know that we will all go our separate ways, we may lose touch with each other, we may forget the important things in each others lives…..but at the end of it all, I know and feel that I have been blessed just to have known them…..
Monday, October 10, 2005
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
33 & 1/3rd for me
I am a woman. That’s not a self-convincing statement, that’s just a statement of fact. Biologically, that’s what I am and I have been accepted as one socially too. Except for a couple of occasions on local buses where I was told to get off the ladies seat as I was hogging them and a few instances where my girl friends (friends who belong to the fairer sex – whatever that means) parents got reports that their daughters were spotted with a stocky guy with shaggy hair.
Ok, so I’m a bit tomboyish. I walk with a stagger, don’t have an ounce of the famed feminine shyness, am totally colour blind (women are supposed to differentiate beige from pastel – both are shades of light colour, Im told), I love talking about sex, I forget to zip up my jeans once in a while, I scratch my crotch in public… all those obnoxious things that guys are supposed to do, I do them (except for smoking and drinking – these are plain stupid).
I have always believed that girls and guys feel almost the same things at approximately the same age. It’s just a matter of the social perimeter, which encages us that differentiates the behaviour of the opposite sexes. You think that if a fat girl wears a tight pair of pants the zip does not slide down because the zip is aware of the wearers feminity. You think that the crotch of a girl is a tension free and scratch proof area… you are grossly wrong. You think a woman never farts, think again. You think a woman always smells of fresh flowers, tell the summer sun to be partial to the fairer sex and then maybe the theory will be true. And who ever still says that women are the fairer sex. Isn’t there a beauty cream called “Fair and Handsome” for men. You think a woman does not think about sex, believe me they think about it from the time puberty sets in.. infact for a short period that’s all what they think of. So you see, when it comes to gross stuff girls compete very strongly and sometimes hold an edge over guys.
Similarly when it comes to sensitive behaviour typically associated with women, todays men are not to be left far behind. There is a new breed of men called metro sexuals, they cry openly, they are not scared to show emotion publicly (some times that’s plain embarrassing), they spend a good part of their routine grooming and looking good, they some times even genuinely care.
So things are finally the way God wants them to be (I suppose). Men and women have started realizing that the only thing that actually separates them is a piece of flesh placed in separate parts of the body. They are sharing responsibilities, there are egos being put to rest, expectations are being tempered, people are actually coming to their senses. And amidst all this, are we as a country declaring 33 and 1/3rd reservation for women?? Why on earth would we want to do that? I do understand the fact that India still has a lot of places where women are under valued, places where female infanticide and feoticide is common, places where young girls are not sent to school, places where girls are married off at tender ages of 10 and below. I get all that, but aren’t we a country that’s just about 60 years young. What we have achieved in these 60 years is remarkable if we consider the main fact that, we are a democratic country and no matter how misused, we have maintained that that’s what we want to be.
In such a situation is it right on our part to encourage the division of the society on the basis of sex, religion, caste etc. Aren’t we above these petty issues? Isn’t it apparent that if a person has the goods to be at the top of the game, they will be, no matter what their gender is or religion is or caste is. And if a person doesn’t make it out in the world then maybe they are just not cut out for it. Do we want an unqualified person operating on us just because he got an MBBS on the merit of being born in a particular section of the society, do we want a person who knows nothing about the cement to sand ratio building bridges for us, just because he belongs to a protected religion? Then we definitely do not want a woman who knows nothing about politics or policies for that matter ruling over us as mayors, MPs, PMs etc.
Do something only if you are capable of doing it and not because someone handed it over to you in a silver platter and convinced you that you can’t do it on your own. Reservation for women is by far the most degrading of all government policies because it encourages us to be equal to men by protecting us and by making sure we know that we are weak and cannot make it on our own. And the saddest part is most women support this reservation…So much for self will and standing up on your own feet.
Ok, so I’m a bit tomboyish. I walk with a stagger, don’t have an ounce of the famed feminine shyness, am totally colour blind (women are supposed to differentiate beige from pastel – both are shades of light colour, Im told), I love talking about sex, I forget to zip up my jeans once in a while, I scratch my crotch in public… all those obnoxious things that guys are supposed to do, I do them (except for smoking and drinking – these are plain stupid).
I have always believed that girls and guys feel almost the same things at approximately the same age. It’s just a matter of the social perimeter, which encages us that differentiates the behaviour of the opposite sexes. You think that if a fat girl wears a tight pair of pants the zip does not slide down because the zip is aware of the wearers feminity. You think that the crotch of a girl is a tension free and scratch proof area… you are grossly wrong. You think a woman never farts, think again. You think a woman always smells of fresh flowers, tell the summer sun to be partial to the fairer sex and then maybe the theory will be true. And who ever still says that women are the fairer sex. Isn’t there a beauty cream called “Fair and Handsome” for men. You think a woman does not think about sex, believe me they think about it from the time puberty sets in.. infact for a short period that’s all what they think of. So you see, when it comes to gross stuff girls compete very strongly and sometimes hold an edge over guys.
Similarly when it comes to sensitive behaviour typically associated with women, todays men are not to be left far behind. There is a new breed of men called metro sexuals, they cry openly, they are not scared to show emotion publicly (some times that’s plain embarrassing), they spend a good part of their routine grooming and looking good, they some times even genuinely care.
So things are finally the way God wants them to be (I suppose). Men and women have started realizing that the only thing that actually separates them is a piece of flesh placed in separate parts of the body. They are sharing responsibilities, there are egos being put to rest, expectations are being tempered, people are actually coming to their senses. And amidst all this, are we as a country declaring 33 and 1/3rd reservation for women?? Why on earth would we want to do that? I do understand the fact that India still has a lot of places where women are under valued, places where female infanticide and feoticide is common, places where young girls are not sent to school, places where girls are married off at tender ages of 10 and below. I get all that, but aren’t we a country that’s just about 60 years young. What we have achieved in these 60 years is remarkable if we consider the main fact that, we are a democratic country and no matter how misused, we have maintained that that’s what we want to be.
In such a situation is it right on our part to encourage the division of the society on the basis of sex, religion, caste etc. Aren’t we above these petty issues? Isn’t it apparent that if a person has the goods to be at the top of the game, they will be, no matter what their gender is or religion is or caste is. And if a person doesn’t make it out in the world then maybe they are just not cut out for it. Do we want an unqualified person operating on us just because he got an MBBS on the merit of being born in a particular section of the society, do we want a person who knows nothing about the cement to sand ratio building bridges for us, just because he belongs to a protected religion? Then we definitely do not want a woman who knows nothing about politics or policies for that matter ruling over us as mayors, MPs, PMs etc.
Do something only if you are capable of doing it and not because someone handed it over to you in a silver platter and convinced you that you can’t do it on your own. Reservation for women is by far the most degrading of all government policies because it encourages us to be equal to men by protecting us and by making sure we know that we are weak and cannot make it on our own. And the saddest part is most women support this reservation…So much for self will and standing up on your own feet.
TRUCE AT LAST
I didn’t hate him anymore..I think so. We have fought our silent wars and now both of us have matured.. we have wizened and the reasons that mooted the rivalry seemed trivial.
I had been working as an auditor for about an year. It was my first corporate job and I was just getting the hang of things, corporate politics and above all my job… of all the things in life I never though I would end up as an auditor.. Oh! How I hated auditing!!!!
The chief of our zone had been replaced – this is the guy to whom I address my audit reports. The new guy is some one I have known in the past, he was second in command in another zone. I knew him to be a levelheaded guy and a good decision maker. Our zone was in deep shit and I was sure that if anybody could get us out of this mess, this was the guy..
So it came as a shock, when the first statement he spoke to me was that “I think your work and your department as a whole is a waste of time and resources. I can stand and proclaim the same from any roof top”. How dare he!! That arrogant prick! I fought back my tears. I reasoned with my self, all those self motivation, zero stress theories swamped my head “ when the going gets tough, the tough gets going”, “this is the dog eat dog corporate world”, “don’t let such people get to you”. I had to talk to some one…my Boss. I called him up and went at it for about half an hour… I let loose all my feelings and my Boss patiently listened. At the end of the conversation he chuckled. I was really mad now. Here I was pouring out my frustration to him and he laughs!!!! Then he tells me “I was just imagining the chief on a roof top – that is the best place for him, that’s where you normally find monkeys!” I burst out laughing.. I certainly did not think of some thing like that…..
So that is what he symbolized for me .. an educated ape with an ego the size of the Pacific!
Things at office began to change, drastic changes were made, I heard the good things, I saw the bad events. My colleagues spilled their guts out to me, my shoulder was always readily available for them to weep off office miseries. There were stories of him being rude, sarcastic… that’s what he did his masters in, I’m sure. But the zone was improving.. we could see the changes, sales were up, revenues were inching north, the company’s reputation was improving… he was as I had thought good for the business..very good indeed. I was happy that I was an excellent judge of character.. but God I still hated him.
As per company tradition, birthday boys and girls get a bouquet, cut a cake and then get pasted brutally. It was my birthday. Chief offered me a bouquet and sarcastically asked me “Will you accept this from me?” I shot back “ I don’t seem to get any responses for my audit reports from you, so hell why not, I will take the flowers from you”. The cake was being cut. He invited me to do the honours. I accepted on the condition that I get the biggest piece. He remarked, “Your size demands a big piece”, I retorted, “By that logic, you shouldn’t get any”…. Seems like teenagers fighting.. but that’s me and the Chief.
Then one day, inspiration stuck me and I wrote down a real life incident and sent it to a friend for review. She forwarded it to Chief and a whole bunch of other people. I receive an unexpected call from Chief. He actually read the article. He calls me and says “that’s one of the best pieces of writing I have read in quite a long time”. Oh well! The big man read my article and liked it. He even mentioned it to the entire staff in one of the gatherings.
I’m sure deep down both of us will continue feeling the way we did the first time we met each other and nothing will ever erase the image of him hanging off the rooftop and thumping in chest in blatant proclamation of the futility of my existence. But, hey we have moved on…. After all how long can I stay mad at my fan???!!!
I had been working as an auditor for about an year. It was my first corporate job and I was just getting the hang of things, corporate politics and above all my job… of all the things in life I never though I would end up as an auditor.. Oh! How I hated auditing!!!!
The chief of our zone had been replaced – this is the guy to whom I address my audit reports. The new guy is some one I have known in the past, he was second in command in another zone. I knew him to be a levelheaded guy and a good decision maker. Our zone was in deep shit and I was sure that if anybody could get us out of this mess, this was the guy..
So it came as a shock, when the first statement he spoke to me was that “I think your work and your department as a whole is a waste of time and resources. I can stand and proclaim the same from any roof top”. How dare he!! That arrogant prick! I fought back my tears. I reasoned with my self, all those self motivation, zero stress theories swamped my head “ when the going gets tough, the tough gets going”, “this is the dog eat dog corporate world”, “don’t let such people get to you”. I had to talk to some one…my Boss. I called him up and went at it for about half an hour… I let loose all my feelings and my Boss patiently listened. At the end of the conversation he chuckled. I was really mad now. Here I was pouring out my frustration to him and he laughs!!!! Then he tells me “I was just imagining the chief on a roof top – that is the best place for him, that’s where you normally find monkeys!” I burst out laughing.. I certainly did not think of some thing like that…..
So that is what he symbolized for me .. an educated ape with an ego the size of the Pacific!
Things at office began to change, drastic changes were made, I heard the good things, I saw the bad events. My colleagues spilled their guts out to me, my shoulder was always readily available for them to weep off office miseries. There were stories of him being rude, sarcastic… that’s what he did his masters in, I’m sure. But the zone was improving.. we could see the changes, sales were up, revenues were inching north, the company’s reputation was improving… he was as I had thought good for the business..very good indeed. I was happy that I was an excellent judge of character.. but God I still hated him.
As per company tradition, birthday boys and girls get a bouquet, cut a cake and then get pasted brutally. It was my birthday. Chief offered me a bouquet and sarcastically asked me “Will you accept this from me?” I shot back “ I don’t seem to get any responses for my audit reports from you, so hell why not, I will take the flowers from you”. The cake was being cut. He invited me to do the honours. I accepted on the condition that I get the biggest piece. He remarked, “Your size demands a big piece”, I retorted, “By that logic, you shouldn’t get any”…. Seems like teenagers fighting.. but that’s me and the Chief.
Then one day, inspiration stuck me and I wrote down a real life incident and sent it to a friend for review. She forwarded it to Chief and a whole bunch of other people. I receive an unexpected call from Chief. He actually read the article. He calls me and says “that’s one of the best pieces of writing I have read in quite a long time”. Oh well! The big man read my article and liked it. He even mentioned it to the entire staff in one of the gatherings.
I’m sure deep down both of us will continue feeling the way we did the first time we met each other and nothing will ever erase the image of him hanging off the rooftop and thumping in chest in blatant proclamation of the futility of my existence. But, hey we have moved on…. After all how long can I stay mad at my fan???!!!
THE GATEKEEPER
Her fingers had just started delving into her lunch and she hears Apputty call out from inside. Gouri sighs, shakes her hand free of food and gets up from the table. Her knees groan in agony. She is 70, not a young age by any standards. She limps towards the wash basin and in the same topsy turvy walk hurries towards the bedroom hoping that she was not too late. She was indeed too late…Apputty had wet her bed.. It was not the first time and it certainly was not going to be the last. So Gouri went about business in a nonchalant manner. She changed the “mundu” that Apputty was wearing and wearily changed the sheets. By the time she was done her back was aching and she had forgotten all about lunch. She went back into the kitchen and saw her untouched lunch on the table. She put a lid on it and walked off to the porch of the house and sat down. Her tired eyes glazed over…….
Its been more than 3 years since Apputty was totally bed ridden. She was 89. She was Gouri’s aunt. She was one of the assets that Gouri inherited when their ancestral home was being partitioned. She had always been an important part of the family. Every one always said that she was healthier than three generations put together that is until the fateful day she fell. That did it.. Apputty never got up.. she was scared. She was still physically healthy..all her senses functioned perfectly, she ate well and she slept well, but psychologically she was cuckoos. Gouri had been imprisoned in the house since that day.. she could not go anywhere, she could not meet anyone, she could not partake in any family events. Her life had become an endless session of bedpans, wet beds, feedings and midnight awakenings by Apputtys blood curling screams after her nightmares. She also had to constantly put up with complaints that she was not looking after her well enough….
Life certainly had not been a bed of roses since the death of her husband nearly 25 years ago.. but she had managed.. she had put her kids through college, got them married off, tried to get them settled…
Her son was in Daman. Struggling to make ends meet..could not come back home.. he had shamed the family.. he had created debts that the family was still trying to pay off…
At least her daughters were doing well, she thought with a smile… and then a frown creased her forehead..
One of her daughters was divorced, grossly overweight, a compulsive obsessive workaholic with a daughter who could not be exactly classified as normal.. Gouri just wished that she would not live to see the day her grand daughter would be weeping on her moms funeral… that anyway seemed imminent to happen…
Her other daughter had a hobby of collecting all the tensions in the world and then worrying herself to death. But she was still better of the lot.
Wasn’t this the period in life that one was supposed to enjoy with grandchildren.. where was that period of her life.. will she ever see it or enjoy it fully? She knew that if only Apputty ceased to be a shackle in her life… she regretted the thought the moment it entered her mind. How could she think like that??? Had she become like the rest of the world.. cold and heartless.. Had she forgotten that this was the same woman who had cared for her as a child, for her children after her and than for her grandchildren… that this was the same woman who had done the work of 4 people single handedly, that this was the same woman who cried every time something happened to Gouri, that this was the same woman who most probably prayed to God every night to end her life so that Gouri could get on with hers…
Gouri is woken from her reverie by the creaking of the gate. A boy strides very authoritatively into the courtyard… Gouri could not make out the young guy. He had a small carry bag in his hand.. Gouri squinted into the sunlight…She was shocked.. it was her elder grand daughter.. she had come to visit from Coimbatore. What had the girl done to her hair!! Gouri felt tears prick her eyes.. “Ammamma” shouted her granddaughter and Gouri’s world just came alive…she was indeed spending time with her grandkids… life was still beautiful… yes, there were problems but who didn’t have them.. her immediate concerns were transformed.. what to cook for lunch.. what was her favourite??? Renu hugged her grandma so tightly that her frail figure would have broken… Gouri did not mind…once in a while the gates of her lonely life would open to let in a flood of happiness…her life was still beautiful…
Its been more than 3 years since Apputty was totally bed ridden. She was 89. She was Gouri’s aunt. She was one of the assets that Gouri inherited when their ancestral home was being partitioned. She had always been an important part of the family. Every one always said that she was healthier than three generations put together that is until the fateful day she fell. That did it.. Apputty never got up.. she was scared. She was still physically healthy..all her senses functioned perfectly, she ate well and she slept well, but psychologically she was cuckoos. Gouri had been imprisoned in the house since that day.. she could not go anywhere, she could not meet anyone, she could not partake in any family events. Her life had become an endless session of bedpans, wet beds, feedings and midnight awakenings by Apputtys blood curling screams after her nightmares. She also had to constantly put up with complaints that she was not looking after her well enough….
Life certainly had not been a bed of roses since the death of her husband nearly 25 years ago.. but she had managed.. she had put her kids through college, got them married off, tried to get them settled…
Her son was in Daman. Struggling to make ends meet..could not come back home.. he had shamed the family.. he had created debts that the family was still trying to pay off…
At least her daughters were doing well, she thought with a smile… and then a frown creased her forehead..
One of her daughters was divorced, grossly overweight, a compulsive obsessive workaholic with a daughter who could not be exactly classified as normal.. Gouri just wished that she would not live to see the day her grand daughter would be weeping on her moms funeral… that anyway seemed imminent to happen…
Her other daughter had a hobby of collecting all the tensions in the world and then worrying herself to death. But she was still better of the lot.
Wasn’t this the period in life that one was supposed to enjoy with grandchildren.. where was that period of her life.. will she ever see it or enjoy it fully? She knew that if only Apputty ceased to be a shackle in her life… she regretted the thought the moment it entered her mind. How could she think like that??? Had she become like the rest of the world.. cold and heartless.. Had she forgotten that this was the same woman who had cared for her as a child, for her children after her and than for her grandchildren… that this was the same woman who had done the work of 4 people single handedly, that this was the same woman who cried every time something happened to Gouri, that this was the same woman who most probably prayed to God every night to end her life so that Gouri could get on with hers…
Gouri is woken from her reverie by the creaking of the gate. A boy strides very authoritatively into the courtyard… Gouri could not make out the young guy. He had a small carry bag in his hand.. Gouri squinted into the sunlight…She was shocked.. it was her elder grand daughter.. she had come to visit from Coimbatore. What had the girl done to her hair!! Gouri felt tears prick her eyes.. “Ammamma” shouted her granddaughter and Gouri’s world just came alive…she was indeed spending time with her grandkids… life was still beautiful… yes, there were problems but who didn’t have them.. her immediate concerns were transformed.. what to cook for lunch.. what was her favourite??? Renu hugged her grandma so tightly that her frail figure would have broken… Gouri did not mind…once in a while the gates of her lonely life would open to let in a flood of happiness…her life was still beautiful…
Friday, September 30, 2005
TYPICAL TAMIL FOLK
I felt a trickle of sweat travel slowly from the soft spot behind my right knee to my ankle as if with some divine purpose. My shirt top was stuck to my skin. I was regretting my decision to wear my cotton pants. To top it all, the Mangalore – Coimbatore passenger was moving at such an unbearably slow pace that life, I felt, could not get any more miserable.
What’s so miserable in traveling in a passenger train from Shornur to Coimbatore, you ask. Nothing, under normal circumstances. But these are not normal circumstances – these involve me. I am one of those few people on earth who love wallowing in self-pity, which is buttressed by a uniquely strong sense of pessimism. I am someone who thinks that I am overblessed with every thing in life, and hence do not deserve any of the gifts of life like a warm loving home, excellent education, a salary to kill for and two friends who would do anything for me.
Sleep refused to oblige me and I was beat. I started observing the fellow passengers. On my right hand side was a young girl – sleeping beauty. To my left, a fat Muslim lady with 2 kids – surprisingly silent. On the opposite side were what I considered “typical tamil folk” - black, over dressed with no sense of cleanliness what so ever and a kid whose nose kept running. Oh! The misery continues.. what esteemed company!
Come Palakkad and there was a welcome change of scenario. I shift next to my mom, a few seats behind. What seemed a second back like a comparatively empty cubicle was suddenly crowded – we were 5 on each opposing seat and these were also specimen earlier described as “typical tamil folk”. Oh Boy! This just keeps getting better and better. There was something under the seat brushing against my feet, some kind of basket. Shit! 6 of the 8 people apparently knew each other well, some kind of train friends (I thought that this species of women was restricted only to the local trains of Mumbai. Obviously I was wrong!). One of the others left shortly and one of them seemed to have got sucked into the band of friendship, that was forged between the six.
They started speaking in the loudest most obnoxious manner about what I expected “sapad”. My God! Don’t they have any other topic than this.. such low IQ levels and such sub standard people……
I was trying so hard not to listen to the conversation that I was actually paying a lot of attention to it…
“I come home and the entire house is a mess…. My son tells me – u don’t interfere in this mom, my friends were here … what do I do? He would be happy if I were to stay in my quarters”……
“ I am doing a double shift today.. just reached home from the morning shift at 3 in the after noon and here I am going back for the night shift”…
“his friends are too many ….but they are good kids, that’s a relief”…”
“paavam ponnu, let her sleep at least for an hour” all of them helped the girl up to the “luggage only” shaft above the seat…”nee toong ma.. we will call u at Coimbatore”.
I was surprised; I was actually getting interested in the conversation. Mom started talking to the woman next to us, turns out she and the rest of her family work in the Indian railways.. they are 5 sisters..the one sitting opposite to us is one of them, the girl next to her, is her niece.. teaches computers and Hindi at a local school (surprising, I didn’t know that Hindi was taught in Tamil Nadu), stays close to the station, reaches home by 8.00 at night and has to leave the house at 3:00 am for the next shift (when does she sleep? Where does she get the energy to be so bubbly?)… the girl gets up to get something to eat. We, who are totally out of the entire conversation are offered a bite.. we are forced to take our share.. we are offered water after the snack (why are these people so kind to strangers???)
They enquire about us.. when we say that we are from Mumbai …. their eyes open wide with astonishment.. “Is Mumbai a big city?” (such innocence still exists?).. they ask whether we were harmed by the recent floods (why do they care so much???).
They ask about where I live in Coimbatore and where I work…they are worried I might not be able to afford my locality – the most posh area in Coimbatore.. Mom tells them my salary and they are flabbergasted…I earn every month what they cumulatively earn maybe in half a year…I’m embarrassed… but they tell me…”we get pension..we are government employees…you work in a private company.. save all you can now.. you will not get pension” (after knowing the size of my salary they are still worried about me! Are these human beings? Aren’t they jealous???)
There was pookariamma who stays near chinna radio station. Her name is Malli amma.. but every one calls her pookariamma… she goes thrice a week to Kozhikode to sell flowers… that disgusting thing that I stamped and pushed below my seat were her means of livelihood… I whimper and moan to travel a short comfortable journey just because I have to carry a suitcase and a laptop!! And this woman travels from Coimbatore to Calicut to sell flowers!!! They spoke fairly good Malayalam and we spoke pathetic Tamil….Didn’t know when Poddanur arrived..
I was blessed by these people …. Literally.
God blessed me by allowing me to spend an hour of my life with human beings who still care, who are energetic about life, who know to laugh, who are optimistic, who shower affection without condition, who bless from the heart…I was blessed in the company of “typical Tamil folk”!
What’s so miserable in traveling in a passenger train from Shornur to Coimbatore, you ask. Nothing, under normal circumstances. But these are not normal circumstances – these involve me. I am one of those few people on earth who love wallowing in self-pity, which is buttressed by a uniquely strong sense of pessimism. I am someone who thinks that I am overblessed with every thing in life, and hence do not deserve any of the gifts of life like a warm loving home, excellent education, a salary to kill for and two friends who would do anything for me.
Sleep refused to oblige me and I was beat. I started observing the fellow passengers. On my right hand side was a young girl – sleeping beauty. To my left, a fat Muslim lady with 2 kids – surprisingly silent. On the opposite side were what I considered “typical tamil folk” - black, over dressed with no sense of cleanliness what so ever and a kid whose nose kept running. Oh! The misery continues.. what esteemed company!
Come Palakkad and there was a welcome change of scenario. I shift next to my mom, a few seats behind. What seemed a second back like a comparatively empty cubicle was suddenly crowded – we were 5 on each opposing seat and these were also specimen earlier described as “typical tamil folk”. Oh Boy! This just keeps getting better and better. There was something under the seat brushing against my feet, some kind of basket. Shit! 6 of the 8 people apparently knew each other well, some kind of train friends (I thought that this species of women was restricted only to the local trains of Mumbai. Obviously I was wrong!). One of the others left shortly and one of them seemed to have got sucked into the band of friendship, that was forged between the six.
They started speaking in the loudest most obnoxious manner about what I expected “sapad”. My God! Don’t they have any other topic than this.. such low IQ levels and such sub standard people……
I was trying so hard not to listen to the conversation that I was actually paying a lot of attention to it…
“I come home and the entire house is a mess…. My son tells me – u don’t interfere in this mom, my friends were here … what do I do? He would be happy if I were to stay in my quarters”……
“ I am doing a double shift today.. just reached home from the morning shift at 3 in the after noon and here I am going back for the night shift”…
“his friends are too many ….but they are good kids, that’s a relief”…”
“paavam ponnu, let her sleep at least for an hour” all of them helped the girl up to the “luggage only” shaft above the seat…”nee toong ma.. we will call u at Coimbatore”.
I was surprised; I was actually getting interested in the conversation. Mom started talking to the woman next to us, turns out she and the rest of her family work in the Indian railways.. they are 5 sisters..the one sitting opposite to us is one of them, the girl next to her, is her niece.. teaches computers and Hindi at a local school (surprising, I didn’t know that Hindi was taught in Tamil Nadu), stays close to the station, reaches home by 8.00 at night and has to leave the house at 3:00 am for the next shift (when does she sleep? Where does she get the energy to be so bubbly?)… the girl gets up to get something to eat. We, who are totally out of the entire conversation are offered a bite.. we are forced to take our share.. we are offered water after the snack (why are these people so kind to strangers???)
They enquire about us.. when we say that we are from Mumbai …. their eyes open wide with astonishment.. “Is Mumbai a big city?” (such innocence still exists?).. they ask whether we were harmed by the recent floods (why do they care so much???).
They ask about where I live in Coimbatore and where I work…they are worried I might not be able to afford my locality – the most posh area in Coimbatore.. Mom tells them my salary and they are flabbergasted…I earn every month what they cumulatively earn maybe in half a year…I’m embarrassed… but they tell me…”we get pension..we are government employees…you work in a private company.. save all you can now.. you will not get pension” (after knowing the size of my salary they are still worried about me! Are these human beings? Aren’t they jealous???)
There was pookariamma who stays near chinna radio station. Her name is Malli amma.. but every one calls her pookariamma… she goes thrice a week to Kozhikode to sell flowers… that disgusting thing that I stamped and pushed below my seat were her means of livelihood… I whimper and moan to travel a short comfortable journey just because I have to carry a suitcase and a laptop!! And this woman travels from Coimbatore to Calicut to sell flowers!!! They spoke fairly good Malayalam and we spoke pathetic Tamil….Didn’t know when Poddanur arrived..
I was blessed by these people …. Literally.
God blessed me by allowing me to spend an hour of my life with human beings who still care, who are energetic about life, who know to laugh, who are optimistic, who shower affection without condition, who bless from the heart…I was blessed in the company of “typical Tamil folk”!
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About Me
- methinksthat
- Mumbai product - went around the world - got hitched and escaped from the Silicon city of India to the land of glamour and royalty - London. I write every time my heart stirs......