A biting piece of iniquity

I really don't understand how kids can be so insensitive. And by insensitive, i'm pointing out their urge to kick a puppy or throw stones at a pregnant dog they assume to be fat and incapable of chasing them (which they don't anyway). And i might be prejudiced. Maybe i reside in a lowly neighbourhood that seems busy producing antisocial-elements-for-the-future in the form of little kids. Maybe children—at least most of them—at least i hope so—aren't this way. I wasn't this way. And by this way, i'm pointing out the picture posted above. As you can see, a thin dog was happily sitting on top of a car while two puppies (if you zoom to its corner) were blissfully asleep in the warm soil. I know all three of them because i happen to be very popular—in a friendly manner, not the reputation i had when i used to commute on bicycle—amongst the street dogs in our wretched locality. A few minutes after this picture was clicked, two school-going kids entered the scene and one of them shooed away the dog on top of the car. For fun, apparently. The other boy had a matchstick in his hand which he lighted up before throwing at the puppies. For fun again, apparently.

Along with these observations, i also noted two more things;

1. As soon as i yelled at them, both were startled. It wasn't like i turned into Hulk and sounded the crappier version of Farhan Akhtar that i already do. But still, they were astounded and doubly conscious of where the noise came from. They were totally off balance and kept running their eyes trying to figure out the window. They eventually spotted me behind the green while i continued to notice their reaction. Maybe when you're committing something infinitely wrong, your soul is aware of it. Maybe that's why you show signs of fear when you're confronted abruptly in the course of such actions. Had these boys carried good enough hearts in them and some biscuits too to feed the dogs, they wouldn't have been shit scared the way they were. Regardless, i screamed at them challenging them to stay there till i come down.

2. No prizes for guessing that the two punters fled the crime scene when i sped down the stairs. However, when i got back and told my younger brother what happened. His response gave me a healthier insight into a side we obviously overlook. Nothing is the way it was and sometimes, nothing is the way it is. After all, he wasn't angry as i appeared with my words. He was calm and what he said was explained it all: "I too harmed little creatures as a kid. I remember pouring water on ants, de-limbing lizards and leaving them to die, plucking out houseflies' wings and breaking cockroaches' antennas... and today, when i think about it, i understand why certain things happened to me as i was growing up. My failures make sense sometimes. We all pay for our actions sooner or later. I might come across as peaceful today but i wasn't always this way, was i? Those kids will learn too, sooner or later."

Although i happen to be his elder brother of more than a quarter of a century, i knew nothing about his psychopathic childhood. What came as a consolation was his admission that he never harmed dogs. Maybe the fact that he got bitten by a mad dog at the age of five helped. After going back to the window to check out my four-legged friends, i could only silently pray for those two morons to learn their lessons—sooner. If not, invite sharp canines into their adult skin—later.

Be for broom

If charity begins at home, then doesn't cleanliness begin on street? Before wondering about the answer, let us take you back a few months when football World Cup fever was on. Then, Japanese football fans who travelled to Brazil won hearts—both online and offline—when they cleaned up their own mess after the match ended. And they did so even when their team was on the losing side. If we dig a bit deeper, the reason why they were able to carry out these civic responsibilities so effectively—in a foreign country notwithstanding — has something to do with their education. Turns out it's a common practice in Japan to conduct cleanliness drive not only within the perimeters of school but also outdoor. Given the sudden but much-appreciated attention given to public sanitation in our city thanks to the national cleanliness drive helmed by NaMo, i was glad to recently witness young students of St. Mary cleaning up the vicinity of a public area in Vashi. Moreover, the enthusiasm shown by the kids made the sight celebratory. Something we'd love to note more of in the coming days.

Homelessness

With the clouds opening up over the city, its human denizens are not the only ones affected. Our four-legged Mumbaikars are also hard done by, what with the rains making it more difficult to forage for  food. They also have to deal with “residential” issues. And, like humans, dogs have their own ways to find solutions—like this little fellow who found a dry, warm seat in the back of an empty auto-rickshaw. Maybe he was hoping to be transported to a better place...

His master's company

Would it be incorrect to state that dogs are the best people around? Well, no. They are what they are whether they are tamed or stray. And going by the one i recently spotted outside Sanpada railway station, it only reinforces my belief that the four-legged cuties are a kind to reckon with. This particular handsome dog apparently was a puppy who decided to “settle down” with a—not quite legal, if you may—vegetable vendor on the footpath. As of today, the fully grown canine in question keeps guard throughout the day while his master sells his greens. One heck of a partnership!

Civic sense

The track distance between Vashi and Mankhurd is about 8.5 km, which makes it the longest between two railway stations in the city. Other than the thick mangroves on both ends, what separates the two spot is Vashi Creek in the middle. Other than enjoying the wind and watching Arabian Sea, the daily commuters make the most of the view in other ways as well. They fling plastic bags filled with withered garlands from puja and other such materials—for religious reasons—into the seawater. One gentleman recently surprised his fellowmen by wrapping his heap of dried flowers in folded newspapers instead of polythene. It goes without saying that his wordless action must have sparked some thoughts and hopefully, some nature-friendly change in behaviour. Though it is far from ideal a thing to do, let's hope some people got the hint.

Padhe likhe anpadh

Don't you just hate it when you view people on the street litter, spit and abuse public places? Ditto. Guess what? It's worse when you see them do the same from the confines of their four walls. The thing is we Indians like to keep our home clean and streets untidy. There are so many instances around us where people casually throw rubbish out of their window and don't even care to check whether it hit somebody walking on the road outside. Indians would do anything to keep their new-found traditions alive.

Case study: Last night, i was returning home tired from Nashik and it was quite late. I was about four buildings away from ours when a banana peel landed right in front of me—about three feet away. The ironical part was somebody from that very building could have unassumingly slipped on the slippery slip in the morning. Anyway, i looked up as anybody who believes in God would do. From the open window and the functioning tubelight, it was patent that the banana skin flew from that house on the second floor. I used to play cricket once so it wasn't too high for me. I could have easily thrown the peels back into the window—if not on the first attempt, then at least on the fifth. However, i changed my mind at the last moment. Instead, i opened the gate and walked up the stairs despite feeling terribly weary. On ringing the bell of the 'guilty' house, a tall man in lungi opened the door. Before he could ask anything i said "This must be yours. You left it downstairs" in Hindi, before handing him the abandoned banana skin. I was prepared for denial but he didn't say anything. He simply took my offer, looked at his window and pulled a face. I wanted to take out my unrelated frustration by lecturing him: "Padhe likhe log aisa karenge toh anpadhon se kya ummeed karna?" But there was no need for it.

The train and its trainee

Harbour Line has to be Indian Railways' stepchild. Nothing else can explain the kind of treatment it (we, the commuters, that is) receive on a daily basis. Today, the trains were more than an hour late. That is 60+ minutes, numerically speaking. On top of that, it was pouring, thus providing the authorities a reason to hide their inefficiencies. Whatever. I too waited along with half the population of Bangladesh at Kurla station on platform number seven for 300 years. But not a train in sight. 

The drama unfolded here. 

At last, a locomotive lost its way and reached us. Full to its brim, there wasn't an inch to be budged. But then, in a  Mumbai local train compartment, there's always space for one more person. In this case, however, there was space for at least a dozen. I tried my luck but couldn't grab anything so i did what my amma would NEVER want me to. I climbed onto the steel steps on the back of the compartment. Yes, the space between two bogies. In my defense, i wasn't alone. There were six more of us. None of us exchanged a word. Space management at its best. I've done this before but never in a downpour. Everything felt wet and cool before pain crept into my limb joints. The thing is it's difficult to stand in such an uncomfortable position for long. Approximately 22 minutes of heroic ride from Kurla to Vashi platform number three.

The real drama unfolded here. 

This train i was hanging on to my life—quite literally—was supposed to go till Panvel but the motormen halted their 'office' at Vashi itself. They even switched off the light: an indication that the local will be moving to car-shed at Juinagar and all the passengers should alight. One can imagine the kind of reaction the public must have exhibited at this point. And they did. Perhaps they were high on Turkey protest news. Some started banging the door of the motormen's compartment. Others tried to break the glass in front of the train. Two fools even managed to slap the motorman (poor fellow got slapped twice while his colleague didn't even receive one) for not listening to their demands. This went on for like 12 minutes before another train headed for Belapur reached platform number two. 

The bigger drama unfolded here. 

Six of the most violent-looking men rushed towards the Belapur local and threatened the lonely motorman not to move the train. Being afraid (read: sensible) after observing the gherao on the right hand side of his window, he didn't make a move and stayed put. The born-again protesters felt as if they have conquered Timbuktu and once again diverted their  attention to the train on platform number three. 

The bigger and better drama unfolded here.

As soon as they moved back to the Panvel train, i went to the compartment at the forefront and asked the Tamil-accented motorman to start the train. He seemed surprised and relieved at the same time and hit the alarm bell pronto: a green signal given to the motorman on the other end of the train. As soon as that happened, I quickly ran back and found myself space enough for my right foot to place and hanged (again!) on the footboard from Vashi to the next station.

The biggest drama unfolded here.

On reaching home, i told dad that i saved thousands of people from unnecessary frustration by making a motorman do what he was supposed to—hit the gear and run the train. Funny he listened to me. The funnier part is not many can claim that they've made a train move although many can claim that they've made a train stop. The funniest part is none of the above mentioned episodes is untrue.

B for boat, S for sailing

I haven't ridden a motorbike in more than three years now. I don't know how to drive a car. I don't wish to learn how to drive a car either. I'm really good at cycling though but i've gifted my bike to a friend who told me he'll be needing it to get back in shape. Turns out the bike is out of shape now rusting away in his balcony. Happens. I used to commute on that bicycle as my office was barely two kilometers away from home. Now i require trains to reach my workplace. Natural progression perhaps? Anyway, the other day, as one of these trains was speeding over the Vashi Bridge (the one that connects Bombay to New-Bombay), i was staring at the creek beneath. I noticed two things: the noisy sea gulls are conspicuous by their absence (or maybe it's the season or something which i may not be not aware of) and the small boats scattered everywhere. At that instance, i realized the freedom as well as the bond a humble boat embodies. To be out in the sea with water all around you, can solitude get any better? I'd love to read a book there or just lie down with my feet dangling on the edge. As long as you're not sharing your boat with Richard Parker, things are only great. Several such thoughts crossed my mind that evening. That's it. I don't understand the formalities required but I'll buy a boat someday and sail out from Vashi Creek towards the Arabian Sea and post pictures on Facebook for a change. Besides, owning a car or getting your shoulder dislocated TWICE in a motorcycle accident is too mainstream. 

Crowded death

Mumbai is one of those cities where life moves faster than excuses. Every one is in a hurry. Here, we don’t have time for rationality about speed and deadline. We just work. We just do our jobs and move on to our houses for a good night sleep. That’s pretty much the case in almost every other metropolitan city, which is fueled by dreams and ambitions of gigantic proportion.

Mumbai is fast thanks to two reasons. One is it’s local trains and other is the people traveling in it. They both complement each other pretty perfectly. The crowd and hustle-bustle that comes with these trains in Mumbai is a legend of sorts that can’t be ignored. People literally breathe into each other’s lungs with hardly the space to share fresh air. According to Wikipedia, more than 5,000 passengers are packed into a 9-car rake during peak hours, as against the rated carrying capacity of 1,700. Literally, that means, 14 to 16 passengers are standing on each square meter of floor space.

Now, imagine you are one of those 14 to 16 passengers stacked in that bogey and the train stops in middle of track. How do you feel? The answer is simple. You are utterly frustrated, distressed and would want to break free. There could be hundreds of reasons for that train to stop there. It could be failure of signal or could be overlapping of time schedule thus creating a case of traffic. It could be anything but we forget a more occurring possibility there.

It could be due to a passenger who was hanging on the foot-board a while ago but accidentally bumped into the passing steel structures or it could be someone who just slipped off the least of support he had. It’s a mere coincidence that in a city of 14 million people, around 4000 people die due to accidents related to trains every single year.

I came across such incident just two days ago when the train stopped abruptly on the 8-km distance track (which is the longest distance between two stations in whole of Mumbai) creating a flutter of anxiety. As I was hanging on the foot-board like ‘Tarzans of Bombay’ do, I could see it quiet clearly why the train pulled the brake. It was a bloodied man lying on the side of the track. The man was in severe pain and was lifted by 3 men from Railways into the furthest bogey that the motorman occupies.

I’m glad I witnessed this but I’m sad too as I know it could be me or you the next time we hang onto the overcrowded train to fight time and deadline!

South Indian Motorcyle Trip...

I’ve been talking of traveling since I came to know that there was a world out there. So at last, I’m going to do that. Travel. And see for myself what exactly is on the road and beyond.

Like Prophet Mohammad said, “Don’t tell me how much you studied. Just tell me how much you traveled.” Well, I can’t actually tell any one how much studied because I don’t even have a degree to boast so I better stick to the traveling plan to avoid shame!

According to our plan, we will be leaving on bike early morning tomorrow (Tuesday, 1st December, 2009) from Sanpada, Navi-Mumbai and will endeavor to cover at least 3000 km on road straight towards Kerala’s northern district of Kasargod. This road trip will last for more than a fortnight and will definitely kill our backs. Hopefully, I won’t be riding the bike because my partners, Tushar and Lawry, won’t trust me with their bike thanks to my unreliable riding skills. So I guess I’ll be switching pillion-seats which I wish it to be an easier job!!!

Our plan is simple; we will stick to NH-9 and try to reach Solapur on our first day out. Then stay the night there and head towards Bagalkot and then towards Hampi, followed by Shimoga and Udupi and then towards the kissing edge of Karnataka and Kerala. We won’t enjoy Goa on our way down but will sneak in while coming back.

Tushar is the mastermind behind this trip and Lawry is the supporting “lever” behind the total plan and I’m definitely sitting “behind” these two geniuses! By the way, my Ma who is currently in Mangalore, is worried that we are starting the damn journey on Tuesday and she wants us to postpone the event but superstition hardly matters to us so sorry Amma!

I’m getting a lot of advice from people I meet be it real or internet-induced and all are saying, “It’s going to be tough!” It won’t be an easy job but I guess its time we took this decision because we all are bored of our monotony and need a punch or a kick or a crash or a screech to pinch us alive!

I’m allergic to sunlight like that Vampire from Twilight (Hahaha) so I guess I’ll be having a real rough time under sun. But after spending the last two years of my life working in a graveyard shift, it will be all worth it! And I sincerely hope my stupidity don’t kill me or anyone as its not their fault that they are my friends!!!

Confessions

There are million of topics to cover. Still, I’ve decided to write about my mother. It has something to do with recent “developments” around me. She turned 57 yesterday. And we celebrated it for the first time! Birthdays aren’t a big event in our household especially after my younger brother’s demise that happened too soon and too long back.

Lately, I haven’t been good to her and of course, I feel bad about it. And the worst thing is, she never changed a bit towards me. I did the changing part. The same old love, the same old care, the usual insecurity about my future. I wasn’t this bad when I was a kid. She used to call me “bangaar baaley” which in Tulu translates to “Golden Kid”. I hardly troubled her with my studies because I was an above average kid in school whereas my younger bro, Sai, was terrible and a pathetic student. He kept my poor amma (mom) on her heels.

But times change, don’t they? Today, he is the blue-eyed boy who picked himself up and made strides to book himself among the brights whereas I left the corridor of success to wander in the delight of carelessness. I don’t blame anything or anyone for my current state of disarray but the only one person who really suffered was she. She placed huge hopes and labor to realize her dreams of seeing me like my former schoolmates and friends are now.

She was supportive even when I told her I wanted to be a writer. My dad didn’t had a clue how a writer becomes a writer. But she had her doubts and those doubts took the better off her. She was misled into believing that writers or academicians had no “healthy” future. Remarkably, she didn’t coerce me into engineering. I was just listless so I must admit she just did her part of a good mother, accompanying me to colleges for rounds of application and cut-offs. She was always there trying to catch up with my quick steps.

I didn’t complete my graduation. Let alone complete, I didn’t attend even college properly or appeared for exams. Instead I was lost in my world of words and poem. I was sinking in the quicksand of world cinema. I used to bunk college to attend film festivals all over Mumbai. I did everything that I was already doing in Nashik but at least I was studying well there. Here, I was a thorough truant, possessed and a confirmed variant. Ultimately I left engineering for good in 2008.

She is a pious lady so she was appalled when I decided to discontinue practicing the religious rituals I was used to since I was a kid. That too disappointed her a bit but she never wailed or made a big fuss out of it. Although at times, she did made it known that maybe, I was paying for disservice towards God. She thought my mind was clouded. I just laughed it off and I still laugh.

Even on the day of cancelling admission, I remember her talking to the clerk with poignant expression and asking her “whether “it was common for students to leave engineering?” She is naive but honest. I exploited every bit of it.

She is beloved. Everyone loves her. She used to be crowded by my friends during school days whenever she came for exam paper checking day. Even today, my colleagues at office seemingly feel that I’m the “bad guy” in the play. They are right, nonetheless.

One of my closest friend, Afzal, lost his mom last week and I saw him cry for the very first time in our five years of contact. I can’t even fathom the kind of lost he must be feeling. How can you ever replace someone as vital as you mother? Will I be able to make it outside if there isn’t a mother inside my home? Was I really not a mama’s boy and just pretended to be papa’s champ? Questions kept flooding and are still flowing in. Mothers are just great and that’s exceptionally natural.

So, yesterday, I decided to cut off from my usual classes and decided to surprise her by taking her to an eatery nearby and it was one great affair. While Its funny how I never took my mother anywhere because I was busy with my movies, Internet, poems and words. Sai was the one doing the things a son is supposed to. I was busier calling him “amma’s pet”! By the way, she wanted me to visit my barber as a birthday gift!

I wish she lives a happy life and find a day to see me as someone I want to be-contend and free. But she is of the old mode so it will take time and I’m going to make the best of that time available. I’m going nowhere. I’m just going to change.