A sign lost in the abyss, this Metropolis.

To tell you the truth, when I heard about the plans for a trip down south I was reluctant to go. For the last couple of years whenever plans for visiting Bangalore were brought up I used to wiggle my way out by mentioning an upcoming set of exams. Now you wouldn't want me unprepared for those, would you?
But now, having my board exams done and dusted with nothing to take refuge behind, I could not resist and eventually gave up to my mother's advances.

Frankly, I do not have anything against Bangalore. I love the weather there. But being born and bought up mostly in Mumbai does not do much in favor of me fluently conversing in my mother tongue, let alone Kannada- which leaves me in a fix. One cannot survive in Bangalore without basic Kannada. Besides, my cousins live in a joint family. A myriad of people in a house. With me in it. Yeah, not a good situation.

Once I'd dodged the customary starters of conversation pertaining to when they had last seen me and how vastly I have changed since then, my eldest uncle dropped the bomb on us. He was beaming proudly while my aunt announced their plan to take us all on an adventurous expedition around Karnataka. Let me tell you why this was a big facepalm moment of mine:

1. I had not carried my cellphone. My iPod charger broke at the airport. Courtesy: My brother. Therefore, No Music. Cue hyperventilation.
2. In my attempt at travelling light, the only footwear I carried was a pair of white chucks.
3. I did not carry any adventure-appropriate clothing. It was winter for crying out loud. I was ready for hibernation.
4. I was still recovering from cramps after a mega light-saber fight with my brother from a few days ago where I fell badly.

Do I need more?



***


After enduring a 12-hour car journey with an annoying cousin beside me, I emerged seemingly unscathed. We got lost a couple of times, but managed to reach the destination which, for the love of God- I couldn't even pronounce! But the night sky had me stumped. I mean, it was so clear- I was in a daze. Cloud-less dark sky, with a bright moon beaming down at us, surrounded by stars. I could even point out a couple of constellations. We had a bonfire to keep us warm. Only thing missing was smores. Still, it was pretty amazing.

Not clicked by me, but almost identical to the actual one.

Sadly, things I deem to be amazing end right there. Days were spent trekking nearby hills, wading through streams, browning my sparkly white converse, conversations with my pot-bellied uncles- who mildly coerced me to pursue engineering as a career and visiting temples. Temples. My goodness. South Indians sure love their temples. This little town we visited literally had temples around every corner. And where there are temples, foreigners are sure to be found. God only knows what they do there as most temples don't even permit foreigners. And where there are foreigners, there are bound to be tourist-traps in the form of exorbitantly priced shopping streets. Basically, it was a mini-Goa. Their own piece of Goa, in south. How wonderful.

Another fascination people from the south have, that I don't really share: Beaches. My sisters nearly threw a fit when an uncle suggested skipping the beach town from our itinerary. How could they miss their meticulously planned beach photo-session. But how will I know, I am a Mumbaikar after all. Beaches are like a second home to me.
By the time we returned to Bangalore, I was thoroughly bored of having Idli- the safest possible option; and itching for a vada pav. Badly.

In the meantime, an uncle taught me how to ride a motorbike. A couple of scratches on me and my cousin's bike later, I was riding on my own!
Before we knew, it was time to end the year. And what better way to bring in the new year than Bangalore's happening nightlife?



*


How much ever I complained about having idlis everyday, I felt a certain emptiness around the house, once back in Mumbai. I had to admit- Mumbai will never be Bangalore. I would certainly miss the amount of greenery amid the urban infrastructure, but on the inside I know- I live in this concrete jungle called Mumbai and although the plasticity of life here makes me wary, I have to acknowledge the distinct feel of familiarity around here. Mumbai is home.



So tell me, whaddaya prefer- Mumbai or Bangalore?


Photo source: Tumblr

Everybody loses, We all got bruises.

Ever had a moment when all your deepest, darkest fears, the worst-case scenario, your wildest imagination flash in front of your eyes- ones which you never unveiled to anybody in the fear of it coming true, or rather in the fear of being cajoled into believing that it isn't true, even when deep-down you know it is?

***
My father is a Captain in the Merchant Navy. Ever since I remember I have been watching him pack and bid goodbye for months to come. In those times, there was no method of communication whatsoever and I swear my mother thanked the gods when the service of the humble e-mail was made available. It used to be crazy living in anticipation of a letter, and not being able to see his face for six months, sometimes even longer.

When I was about five, I overheard my dad talking to a few guests over dinner. He spoke about this massive fire on his vessel and the fact that it had taken him hours to put it off, skillfully nonetheless. I guess that was when the fear was sown in my mind. Over the years he tried to shield me from the monstrosities of his occupational hazard, but somehow I came to know. Pirates, ice, fire, storms- were all a part of the so-called monstrosities.
One time, his ship was sailing across the African coast, along Somalia and its neighbors. I couldn't sleep at night, and my days were filled with unrest. The time when I received a mail saying they had crossed those waters and were headed toward Australia, I let out a sigh of relief. They did have a piracy scare, but the pirates' boat just passed by theirs, like literally five miles from theirs.

Every time he packed his bags to leave, I am in tears. Years since, I still cannot help it. I try to hide them, but he sees it. And even after a million talks with him about how he will be cautious, I cannot help it. Its not like I don't trust him to keep safe; Its the others who lack my trust. Along the way, I tried to hide my tears because it made him feel guilty about it, and its made it tougher for him.

Watching Captain Phillips today, was my worst nightmare come true. All those traces of fear in the darkest crevices of my mind were brought up front. The role of the protagonist, although beautifully portrayed by Tom Hanks, reminded me of my father the whole time. It gave an insight into the minds of the pirates.
 But the thing that constantly gnawed at me was the fact that the American government sent Navy SEALs and whatnot to save the abducted captain and managed to rescue him. Knowing just how incompetent the Indian government is, piled onto my already sky-high list of things to worry about.

I just feel like my hands are tied. Helplessness consumes me every time I think about the situation.
There is just no fucking way to ward this fear away. 

ASDFGHJKL.

Yesterday was one of the worst days I've had recently. Ironically, it was one day where I actually set my books aside and took a well-deserved break.

Seeing I had no classes that day, my mum scheduled an appointment with my ophthalmologist. I had a teeny-weeny number, and Mum thought it was time for a check-up. So I reluctantly left my One Tree Hill marathon, to go all the way to the other side of town, in a rickshaw.  :/

Once there, the nurse poured some drops into my eyes. And just as those came into contact with my cornea,  I shrieked. I had totally forgotten how much that stuff hurt. It was like friggin' acid.
It was supposed to dilate my pupils, and make my vision hazy for a few hours, and help the doc see whether there was anything wrong with my eye. Thankfully, there wasn't. And my eyes were okay now.
That should make me happy, right?
Wrong. That stuff was like frickin' acid and had me practically blind. I couldn't see a bloody thing!

The world was just a big Pablo Picasso painting for me.
All I could see was big blotches of color.

By the time we left the clinic, it started raining pitch-forks. My great kismet. *note sarcasm*
And no rickshaw- waala was ready to come all the way back, in that pouring rain.

So my poor mum, a hand linked through mine to keep me from straying away, the other hand holding the umbrella for both of us and clenching onto her bag and waving frantically for the rickshaw waalas to stop. They didn't, nonetheless. Morons.

After a while the Rain-God had mercy on us, and tamed down.

But instead, Mum took that as a bait to do some street shopping. I mean, seriously?
She stuck to her guns till the vendor did not give her the pumpkin for her price. And later she had the victorious feel in her tone, when she spoke of her achievement of getting the pumpkin at half the price we get in our locality.
And still no rickshaw- waala.

We would've been a sight, I tell you. My shorts were drenched, and my hair felt frizzy. Mum was not on her best, either. I was sulky, and stomping my way through the pot-holes, and in turn splashing muddy water all over my bare calves. Mum staggering on the road, with her arm full of plastic bags and an umbrella and trying to keep track of me, every other second.

 How much ever I try to portray rains as those wonderful, magical events they certainly weren't those for me.

When what seemed like hours had passed, a rickshaw-waala finally agreed. We quickly got in, and I started my rambles on how it was all a bad idea and how mum owed me a pedicure after all that dirty water we walked in- water people with diseases stomp and spit in; when my mum quietly mumbled something that really made me think.

Every cloud has a silver lining- She said.

Surely I had heard about it in school.
She made me think of a silver lining about this situation.

I, being the red-hot angry, stubborn head- couldn't think of any.

She said, When was the last time we actually held hands while walking?
-When I was 10. Five years back.

"When was the last time you got wet in rains?"
-I don't remember. I've always hated rains,

"When was the last time Mumbai got rains on time?"
-Long, long back.

"When was the last time I got pumpkin for fifteen rupees?"
- I laughed at that.

So after a long, hot shower I hit the sack.

It was a memorable day after all.
Of silver linings and despicable Bombay rains.

My click :)

Of good times and noodle salad.

She let out a shiver as she stepped into the cool Manchester air and walked towards the building.
She felt a wave of exertion overwhelm her as she stepped into the elevator, and let out a sigh.
She struggled to retrieve the keys from her purse, and her laptop bag fell at her feet. After a few tries, the door finally gave way and she stumbled into her apartment. And all of a sudden she was engulfed by a smell. Good heavens.

Masala chai.

It was as if she was magically transported back Home. Mumbai.
She was suddenly seventeen again, and could hear the rain pelting outside her window.
The smell of the wet soil.
The sudden pleasant weather welcome, after months of scorching heat.
She remembered that day distinctly.

First rain of the season. She was at home in front of her books, and was caught in a sudden trance as she heard the droplets pitter - patter on her windowsill.
The ring of her cell phone suddenly cut through the still air ; it was him.

Come down quickly- He had said, leaving no room for argument. She didn't need to be told twice.

There he was, outside the gate on his bike. Fully drenched.
The rain had stopped now. It was more beautiful.
She ran to him, ready to rebuke with all guns blazing. But he had waved her off, and given her a hand to help her get on the bike. He gave her some crap about being back in Mumbai after a long time and called her  paranoid after he sneezed a couple of times.

She would never forget that day.
She would never forget that ride.
She would never forget the lush greens and the whispering winds.
She would never forget the feel of the cool air hitting her face as he cut through the lanes skillfully.
She would never forget the quaint tea stall and the smell of masala chai.
She would never forget his mood that day.
She would never forget the twinkle of mischief in his eye.
She would never forget what he said to her.
She could not get herself to forget the way he met his death, the very next day.


Her mum waving her hand in her face, brought her back to the present.
"Earth to Savi." she said.

She found a tear escaping her eye. Just the whiff of masala chai had provoked memories she had tried so hard to bury and leave behind her, to surface.

She ran to her and consumed her in a bear hug and held her for a moment. She was thankful that her mum was finally there.
She had never been that close to her; once a daddy's girl, always a daddy's girl.
But at that moment she was the one who quenched her thirst for something familiar in an unfamiliar city. She enveloped her with the warmth, she didn't know she was aching for. She reminded her of home. Mumbai.

She was her home, away from home.

Picture courtesy : Weheartit  <3

Picture to Burn.

The 18th of April 2008 marked the start of the Indian Premier League, IPL for short.

Every summer since, the whole household dusts their hands off their responsibilities and sits in the drawing room. Their eyes glued to the idiot box, and the only sound in the room is the constant commentary, and the occasional cheers after the favored bowler picks up a wicket, or the batsmen hits a six.

Cricket is a religion in India. It binds the whole country together. Out of topics to start a conversation? There's cricket. 

A journalist called IPL cric-entertainment. I think the title befits the tournament, perfectly. 

Everybody has their favorites; so many arguments pertaining to who's the best team of 'em all. 

But lately there's been a lot of contamination in this religion. Players being bribed.. spot-fixing going on. 

Looking at the condition of the game now, just takes your faith off the game. Three were caught, God knows how many there might be?

One thing that I fail to understand is that they are getting paid in millions, so why sell yourself to those bookies for mere lakhs? 

Its just sad, what people do for "more".

What they don't understand is that they are deceiving the world, with all this faking business of theirs. It just takes the interest in the game away.

But I have to say, I respect those other players who were offered, but turned the bookies down.

So even if I write a post on how upset this makes me, tonight I am gonna sit with a bowl of popcorn in front of the television cheering for my favorite team in the finals, the thought that all of this game maybe pre - planned, lurking at the back of my mind, but my optimistic side overpowering that, and hopelessly hoping that its not true.

Picture source: Google images.

You and me? We were meant to be.

He just stared at her. Watching her frantically try to lap up water from the bowl in front of her, but failing miserably.

He looked straight ahead, with a piercing look. 

"Cindy has rabies. Its the last stage. Take her to the Parel veterinary hospital, and admit her immediately."

A tear rolled down my cheek.

All her life, this German Shepherd had been treated royally. She was more of a daughter to my parents, than I ever was. She was that one link, that brought us all together.

My mum always said that she had three children - Cindy, My brother and I.

It all started the previous night. After dinner she had been given her treat, but surprisingly she didn't gobble it up the way she normally does. She tried real hard to bite on it, but still no luck.

The next morning when having her breakfast, it all started falling from the sides of her mouth. Her jaw just couldn't be moved.

The vet had just so easily stamped her as a case of rabies.

As soon as my mum received the news, she broke down. My dad, was still not convinced.
They drove across the city, to the hospital. By now, my mother was into the possessive-mother-lioness mode.
There was no way Cindy could have had rabies. She was vaccinated and always walked by my parents, or me. And we took utmost care.
It took a lot to convince the people at the hospital otherwise. Mum plainly refused for Cindy to be kept in the Rabies Ward. It was no ward; just a fenced area without a cover for the dogs left to die, in the scorching heat.

I sat in front of her kennel at home. And cried. Cried my heart out. Cried until my crying became more like a questioning session with God.

I woke up, to find myself on my bed. I shut my eyes tightly. I didn't want to get up.
I could hear voices outside, confirming that it wasn't just a bad dream.

That was the first time I heard my father cry.

I clutched onto my pillow and suddenly there was darkness all around me.

Those two days were the worst days of my life.
It was as if my whole world had crashed, in just a day.

The doctors and ward boys refused to touch her.
But my parents never lost hope. Day in and day out, they travelled all the way to the hospital taking liquid meals with them, and force-feeding her. Not once letting the thought of her dying, let them do otherwise.

A couple of days passed. This feeding routine of my parents' went on. Her bark had changed. Her eyes had supposedly changed colour. The signs were all there.

I not once went to see her at the hospital. My life had come to a standstill.
I didn't know what I was doing. I lost appetite. I didn't feel like talking. I found myself staring into empty space, thinking about nothing.

After my parents' gazillion talks with the doctors and convincing theories, they decided to give her an ultimatum. If she survives the next week, they would be ready to take her on the table and examine her.

And my baby made it!

In the park. One year ago.

More recent. On the verandah of our home.

Her favourite pastime- Gossiping with the sparrows.

***

This happened on 20th November,2012. Cindy is perfectly awesome now :)

She lived through the week, and proved the absence of the rabies virus.

The X-rays showed a bone stuck in her throat, locking her jaw, that prevented food from going down her throat. And the difference in her bark was due to lack of water. The change in eye-color was pure BS.

She did not have rabies!

That week, was the worst one of my life.


Rabies is a virus that can be spread by the saliva of mammals. So, thats why if you have a rabies infected animal's saliva penetrating into your skin, through an open wound you should consult your family physician ASAP.

The signs of rabies in dogs, don't appear until 15 days.

Rabies has three stages. There are vaccines available. The final stage, is a death sentence.

What I learnt from the experience : India is in dire need of well educated and qualified, honest veterinarians.
Source: Worth-less blabbering veterinarian idiots.

I'm addicted to you. Don't you know that you're toxic?

"Come home na, we'll study together! " said she.

We were both taking a test the next day and I was a bit skeptical about the study together thing, thanks to my great results the previous term. *note sarcasm* I desperately wanted a better score, and she was no good in it either, but somehow I convinced my mum to let us study together. I had already cancelled on her a couple of times in the past, but there was no getting out of it this time.

I walked to the beat of Titanium, as I made my way to her apartment. I jogged to the first floor, and knocked on the door. In about a minute she stood in front of me, flashing me her crooked smile. I smiled back, out of courtesy as she grabbed my hand and pulled me in.

I took a minute to take in my surroundings. It was a small apartment-a 1 BHK. We were the only ones in there. To say it was messy, would be an understatement. There lay books and papers on every surface. Ironed clothes in a pile, on a nearby settee. And a huge cluster of designer shoes near the door. The flat-screen TV and the iPhone on the pile of newspapers, being the only indicators of the money running through the family. I suddenly felt claustrophobic and suffocated. The apartment could seriously use some aeration.

She swiftly picked up her bag and pile of notebooks from the makeshift couch, and motioned for me to sit on it. I did the same, and pulled out my textbook. We quickly started working through our portion.

Once we were about half-way through the lesson, there was a banging on the door. I was startled. She quickly got up and opened it.
"ANNNUUU!!(name changed, duh.) You would not believe what happened!!! Oh, you have a guest." That was all I heard, before this guy just turned away and ran down the stairs.

" Arrey Aaron(name changed, again.)." She then turned to me. "You don't mind him smoking, do you?"

"No, no. No probs." I replied, still looking in my book. No matter how casually she took the test, I was serious about it and certainly wanted good grades this time.

"Aaaaron. She dosent have a problem with smokers!" She yelled at him.

I suddenly looked up to see this eighteen-ish guy in a navy-blue over-sized tee and black shorts enter the living room, with a phone held to his ear, a ciggy and a bag in his other hand. I was left gaping.
 He was gorgeous.

If you looked closely, you could see the semblance. He looked like a thinner, male version of her.

He turned to me instantly, and probably caught me oogling. "Please excuse my language for the next 180 seconds."

He turned to Anu and narrated this story, full of profanities describing the extremity of the situation. How his driver got a spasm in the middle of the road, and how he wandered to find help, and in due course met this adorable cocker spaniel, and almost stepped on a snake shedding its skin, all this while his dark- brown eyes twinkling with excitement. Anu seemed to take it all in with a matched level of curiosity.

I was just left staring at this exchange between the siblings. He started telling her every thing that happened to him, and she had equal interest in his rantings. They both had this air around them that I hardly wanted to disturb, you know. It just makes you want to look and laugh at. They were so at ease with each other. They both included me in the conversation at times, but then I was just content with sitting back and watching them!

After a while, he left the room.
"You guys are so adorable together! " I said to her.
"Oh, no. He's a prick." I laughed.

She then went on to tell me the story behind "them". About how her father left her mother, and how she went on to make a career for herself. And, how Aaron was always there for her in all aspects.
This made my respect for them grow. I mean, isn't that how a family should be?

They say, "When all else fails, there's family." This is how it is. They are each-other's family.
Circumstances bring people together, and make a better person out of them.
The camaraderie, the little sarcastic exchanges, the promises to keep secrets intact, the little surprises, that emotional blackmailing. Its all a part of the package!
Im glad I got to experience that through Aaron and Anu, and my own brother. And, would wish for everyone to experience that atleast once in their lifetime.