Small Town Girl

Oh it was a good one last night. A heavily pregnant Asian girl runs fast through a stone city. She has bright red hair and is wearing a Gothic black dress. She is strong, the kind of woman who says what she thinks. And she's on her way to the palace, completely unconcerned that her waters might break with this exertion. Her lover - an Indian prince - is at the palace with his father (who looks like Omar Sharif). In his mind, she is a confirmed party girl, the last person he would ever think of becoming a mother. But she is coming to ask for his help because he is the father. Everyone is being readied for an epic journey, and all is hustle and bustle. I enter a vaulted room where we have gathered to hear the King. He points at a mildly disabled man amongst the crowd, dressed in blue and lying in a roughly hewn, wooden canoe. "You. You must go on this trip." He stares down the rest of his entourage, who think he is entrusting something of great importance to an imbecile. "His heart - his heart is right. He has a good heart." I look into the eyes of the man in the canoe and smile warmly, because I know the King has seen correctly. Then the King points at me, and one other person. "And YOU. You must go too." I am surprised. And I realise that I am little, like a child. I look out across the water to unknown lands. This is where I am headed...

Some of the things that most of us would remember would be something of an extreme emotion.. something which made us really happy, or something which sent us hurtling to the opposite end of the emotional spectrum. Such a thing is waking up. If all our wishes were granted, one would wish to be woken up to a breakfast-in-bed service. Of course after having slept off the early morning hours. Preferably next to a hunk or a goddess. In a bed made of fluff or something.. basically in surroundings which tantamount to heaven. But this is not about such pleasures in life. This is about rude awakenings. Some of the most rude awakenings that I have etched in my mind.

One such stirring up to life happened when I was traveling back from Pune to Cochin in the Poorna express a good 2 years back. I had been there to do a case study for my thesis.. Most of the people traveling didn’t have reservations owing to the sudden cancellation of a couple of trains. So all we could do was, take a second class ticket and hop onto the train. I truly was prepared for the worst and having faced such situs earlier, was equipped with a proper sleeping bag and stuff to basically stretch oneself on the bogie floor for one night. One of my friends had a reserved berth and I was tagging along with her... so as to rightfully claim the floor in her coupe as my own. In spite of trying to avoid sleeping altogether (given the conditions), there came a point in the night, when we could just not utter another word and would have rather collapsed. I decided it was high time I caught up on my sleep. While going to Pune also I had stayed up instead of sleeping although the sleeping bag had at least given us the freedom to sit on the bogie floor without squirming. This time I decided to sleep with the entire luggage, shoes, stench, snores and all. There was a family in 2 of the other berths. A family because they had a small kid with them who would screech at all inappropriate times and generally behaves irritatingly. Thankfully the kid was also sound asleep. The night quickly rattled by and the morning came. Sounds were embedded in my subconscious as I could make out a lot of activity around me. But I decided to stretch on for a little while more. After all where would I have sat anyway? My consciousness drifted along with the train and I dreamt of a lady screaming at a child... me in the dream. The screams just kept getting louder and louder and shriller in intensity. I could just not react. Sometimes in your dreams you are totally incapacitated to do what you would really do in real life.

And suddenly that female slapped me HARD right across my face. I was totally stunned. Suddenly I woke up because the pain was too much. Something had actually hit me hard right on my nose bone. Having zapped back to reality in a second, I realised what it was. It was my own Milton water bottle which was hanging right over my head and had fallen with precision on the bridge of my nose. The lady (now in reality) was apologising profusely and tried to massage my nose hurriedly. I managed to push her away just in time otherwise she would have ended up hurting me more. It seems the pesky kid had mistaken himself for Tarzan and was going on jumping from one top berth to another. In his frenzy he probably forgot that my water bottle was not jungle foliage or something to glide across on. Till date I shudder at the thought of that rude awakening.

The other one happened more recently... well not even a month back. I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor in my room because we planned to renovate it n sold out the old furniture. The house happens to be on ground floor and it was the summer-monsoon season. Yes you heard it right. It was raining every evening since almost a month. That’s the beauty of living in Kerala – god’s own country. The previous night I had thrown out a frog from the house assuming it would never be able to get across the small gap under the doors. Again, I could not sleep much because of sudden new rainy surroundings (happens with me) most of the night. Also the fact that there could be a frog lurking nearby was there in the back of my mind. I could only sleep in the pre-dawn hours. But lady luck had run out on me again. I woke up with a start to something that had jumped on my face. Even in my deep slumber I didn’t have to think about what it could be. Even before my eyes opened, I knew it. Yes, no points for guessing that a frog had jumped on my face. Yeah, may be it was hoping to transform into a prince. But I can only thank lady luck for whatever little courtesy she had shown me. At least the froggie didn’t land right on my lips... blech... I got up immediately. Had I been superstitious I would have probably made a full-fledged hulla because of the first thing I saw after waking up – a frog scared out of its wits probably more than I was. At least I had this in the back of my mind all night, but that creature would have just not understood how this rock it jumped on simply animated into life. After having kicked it out of the house, (it was only too grateful to be let out), I slammed my way into the bathroom and washed and scrubbed my face till I was sure that more scrubbing would only end up scrubbing off my epidermis.

So much for the start of a bright new morning. Another awakening. Hmph.

“What happened?”, I asked, having received an unexpected call.
“I called just like that”, she said, making me feel an instant twinge of guilt. But then I couldn’t be blamed for being startled.
“Where are you?”, I asked, hearing the unusual noises in the background.
“I am out in the park, taking a walk”.
Pause.
“A walk? In the park? You?”, I asked incredulously.
“Yes”, she said almost sheepishly. “I even went for a walk in the morning.”
“That’s something!”, I added
“And I even had milk both times in the day”, she added in a school girlish voice. It was rare when I had heard her talk like this. My next impulse was to tell her that she could tell her mom – she would be so pleased to hear that!
Thankfully I curbed that impulse just in time before blurting it out impulsively. For I realised with a pinch yet again, that my nani, her mom, was not around anymore. She had passed away two years back. In the absence of a maternal figure, the school girlish glee of my mom had got directed to her daughter. Me. It unsettled me a bit.
I had been maternal with her on other accounts when I had lightly chided her for not taking her health seriously, for not pampering herself, for not going to the parlour regularly like all others in her “age group”. But I had barely been faced with situations like this where school girlishly reported activities are meant to be applauded.
Some years back, one fine day, it had suddenly struck me that my mom had already been married and had me at the age that I was then. Suddenly things fell into a very different perspective altogether. A life full of tribulations whizzed past, clear as if crystal. How it must have been to adjust into a family that was huge, joint and difficult, how it was to be married to a short tempered man who would mostly get angry for no reason (I don’t blame him, it was his thyroid), and all this in days when the world wasn’t even a mesh of the densely connected dots that it is today. All this at the age I was then. Suddenly I felt as if under her skin. I could relate to her much more, understand her more clearly without having to communicate anything. But I guess that’s natural. For I am her reflection, my mother’s daughter.

It is supposed to be summer. And its raining since a week. Pure Bliss.
I've come up with a lame poem jus one minute back.
Excuse the philosophical bent of mind as I composed this one.

I look out the glass window,
The sky so azure and blue,
A fluff of peppered clouds wafts by,
Oh! How I wish I could float too…

On the wings of nostalgia I fly,
and remember times gone by,
The scent of fresh air, the crystal clear panorama,
all remind me of an evening with you.

The way we were caught in a spell of rain,
huddled like sparrows were us twain,
In dearth of umbrellas, a tree was our shelter,
To prevent ourselves from soaking, we only huddled closer.

Times have gone,
The rains did too.
The rains have come again,
and I still miss you.

Don’t ask what I have been up to, coz I don’t have a clue myself, about where my time goes. The last week (Easter break) was well occupied by the huge 4 day inter samaj event “IDEA ’10” for which KDO was termed as the 2nd best samaj of the year. YAY.

Plus, I have been quite busy at office. As if managing ones’ own work wasn’t enough of a task, supervising a number of people (read duds), considering that you would rather do the job yourself than delegate to them, is worse. The draughts men these days I tell u, they don’t event know how to use commands like align and stretch.. Wonder who gives them software proficiency certificates for AutoCAD. I see some serious flaws in my firm’s recruitment process too. Oh btw… Soon, I would complete one whole year in the same firm, which is *quite* a long time, though we have a whole lot of “10-years-in-the-company-and-still-going-strong” people. Whether it’s an achievement or plain lethargy – Don’t ask.

Last evening I decided to set out on another ‘lone adventure’. This time the venue was Convent Junction. What an evening it was. Supposedly a shopping turned into a weakening experience... Sigh... Even though the sun had set, it was tough wading my way through those innumerable sweaty bodies, slithering at a slow speed, whereas I wanted to zip through the crowd. My eyes caught some bright colored and sequined garment being sold for a discount. On questioning the shopkeeper about what he thought was worth the amount he had quoted, he told me that the same thing is worth 20K INR! I thought I hadn’t heard correctly and expressed so... he instantly assured me that 20K was indeed what he had meant... Foreigners had paid 20K INR for that measly thing.

Which bewildered me more??... The exorbitant price or the fact that he had actually used a foreigners’ ignorance to his own advantage. Don’t ask.

It’s quite interesting to note, that the world I have known has changed so much. And all this in a span of such a short time. Now it seems as if I talk of the Stone Age when I talk of yesteryears. Which was not very long ago... just about 5 years back? I was still at college then. There were no cell phones. Ok I’ll rephrase that as no one used to sport a cell phone on their person except maybe if they were the Tatas, Birlas, Ambanis, and Hindujas. You get the drift. My parents used to call me as often as they could (which would be twice a week). At times, they used to book the call in our hostel. This entailed *waiting* for your call, till the operator would tell you that the call had been connected. It could take the entire day for your turn depending on the call traffic on either end. The girls’ hostel having just two external lines, which also had the intercom connected to it, made it an impossible task to get through to anyone. At times I got the call during my sleep. The ‘akka’ (hostel maid) used to call us from the mike. The person would go bolting like a bunny to the phone and attend the STD call. The STD rates were exorbitant. Just 5 minutes of a conversation meant parting with one ‘Gandhi’. This also when the rates would be 1/4th, which used to happen at 11pm in the night. We would especially request our warden to let us call home late nights.

Picture the scene now. My mamu (mom's brother) picks up the cell phone and dials my sister’s cell phone number. (She happens to be studying in a metro too as I did). They talk every *single* day. Not only this, they keep calling her to ensure her safety, the entire duration of the train journey that she makes to that place. It was one of my “duties” to reach back and let my parents know of my safe arrival as soon as possible.

The advancement in technology has changed this world so much. There was a time when I used to write looooong letters to my friends and post them all over the country. (Ahem… They used to wait for letters from appu). Buying greeting cards was a major pastime with me. I would lounge around in card shops spending hours and come out with a huge stack keeping in mind miscellaneous occasions and several people. I would keep my supply of inland letters and stamps stocked. It all slowly came to a full stop with email. Most of my friends had an official mail id if not a personal one. Greeting cards got replaced by e-cards. Archies? What’s that... ok, a comic character by that name comes to my mind now.

To withdraw cash from the bank there was a “procedure”. Firstly one could not just get up and go, visit the bank whenever one felt like. There were certain days assigned for cash withdrawal and certain timings. One had to fill in a withdrawal slip and sign it. The passbook (with a not so complimentary picture of you) had to be taken along with it. Once at the bank, one had to go through a huge rush at the withdrawal counter. After waiting for your turn, you would get to a person who would stare at you and then at the picture in your photograph, and ascertain that the person is indeed you. Once this interesting detail got confirmed, they would go through some drawers, finally landing at something you scrawled, but now called specimen signature, indexed somewhere according to your account number, match it with the one you made on the withdrawal slip and *then* sign the withdrawal slip and pass it on to the cash counter. Phew... Again, await your turn, produce your passbook, get it updated, collect the cash and be able to leave.

The scene now – go to the ATM, punch some buttons, withdraw cash and come back in less than a minute.

I am sure at the pace that the world is changing, some day I would just need to utter the word “cash” and it would come flying into my pocket. I don’t care where it comes from, as long as it lands in the right pocket. The left one is also ok. *wink*

…and those things that go bump in the night. One of the things that go bump in the night is my sis. No, well she’s not my own sis.. my cousin, as blind as a bat or anything, lemme explain. (I’ll be damned if she catches all these things sprawled on the web )

My sis has had the habit of talking in her sleep right since childhood. Seldom has she ever uttered anything intelligible. It all sounds like some weird Martian language to me. In addition to this, as a child, she also used to be adept at playing football in the bed (read kicking), of course not knowing that I am not the football or my mouth, not the goal post. What more, she would find herself in exactly 180 degrees of the position that she went to sleep in. Imagine trying to sleep and suddenly being thrust with something on your face.. and lo! behold it used to be the not so pretty foot of my cousin sister! (It could have given a chiropodist some great business). At times she also used to be found dangling somehow in the reams of the mosquito net that wasn’t being supported by the bed! Well, over the years these habits started declining in frequency and also weirdness. The only thing pending was the jumble mumble game at times.

One fine night she had just retired to bed (and slept off), whilst I was handling some night care regime. Suddenly she asked me in a very polished tone,” What *ARE* you doing?”. Note the stress on the verb. This sentence struck me as REALLY odd. For one, we don’t talk in plain proper English at home. We use what everyone is familiar with – hinglish. So a complete sentence with not a single word in Hindi, threw me completely off balance. Add to it the fact that she was using this sophisticated tone as if she’d just stepped out of an English convent where Hindi speaking was fined (Believe me, I have studied in one). Last but not the least, I wasn’t doing anything so outta ordinary that she actually had to wake up and ask me that! Somehow I smattered that I was doing... Whatever... and also appended a question about what the problem was. Suddenly, she was dumbfounded and she uttered yet another sentence which threw me more off balance than the first. She said, “Oh! I thought you were my English teacher!” (This was in hinglish BTW). Well, whatever in the name of... Err... Blistering barnacles or the like was that?? And of course in the morning, she didn’t remember anything of whatever happened and we just kept giggling at the atrociously weird nature of it all.

This isn’t all. A few days down the line (now this is the incident where she went bump in the night) so lights, camera, action... oh... no lights...pitch dark and some howling by dogs, yes! Again, this time we were sleeping peacefully. Or rather everybody was sleeping peacefully while sleep chose to evade me. Suddenly (and this is horrifying), my sister woke up with a start and got up in a rush. I found it weird but gave her the benefit of doubt coz she does that a lot in a rush to relieve herself. But this time it wasn’t to be so. Instead of heading for the toilet, she went in some absurd direction, to another door, which opened in another room! And all this while, she was in that haphazard hurry. Before I could ask her what was wrong, she bumped real BAD against the door, as if she didn’t see that it was partially closed! This was enough to wake up my parents who appeared faster than a genie would have on the scene. (Yeh parents log aise hee hote hain). They asked her what was wrong and led her back to the bed. But my sister, she crosses all heights of being eerie and with a stiff silence, came back and slept as if nothing had happened. Of course, not to forget, she didn’t remember any of this the next morning. All these night adventures of hers had the tendency to put us in splits when in a family gathering. But this was getting serious. What if some night she just decided that she was going to turn into a somnambulist? Anyhow, things became ok after a while and there was no trace of any such activity for a long time.