Miracles on wheels

The thing about love is it happens in the unlikeliest of places. Corners. With strangers whom you never met before or shall never meet again. It's wordless at best. Gestures. On an exhausting bus recently, love welcomed back silence in her own innocent way. A little girl, less than one year old, was crying a G7#. The only difference being her voice wasn't pleasant and was only adding to the summer toll on passengers. Her mother, let alone her father, was unable to handle the situation. The situation being the poor child's inability to cope with heat. This wailing went on for a while before an old lady dressed in Maharashtrian nauvari saree took matters into her hands—quite literally. She stood up, leaned into the seat in front of her and urged the young mom to let her hold the baby. On receiving the bundle of weeping joy, she sat down and held her close to her chest. The little girl seemed shocked in the beginning by her free transfer but she wasn't complaining. The old lady not only rocked her calmly but also took turns between blowing hair onto her cheeks and neck and gently kissing her forehead and temples. No surprise there was no more noise in the bus. All thanks to a toddler's discovery of a makeshift grandma.

Numbered karma

Politics is in the air. Everybody is discussing elections and the politicians like never before. EVERYBODY IS AN EXPERT. [If only that expertise translated into making our country a bit more admirable!] But then—like always—some of the most amusing conversations take place in Mumbai local trains. Something like that happened in a Vashi-bound train recently. Two window-seated gentlemen were having a chat about how the present government’s days are numbered. One of them was loud while the other, comparatively  subdued. Co-commuters didn’t join the open conversation but seemed certainly amused by the talk show. What happened few minutes later was worth an anecdote though. A ticket examiner entered the compartment and found that the high-volumed gentleman was traveling on an expired railway pass.

Devil's advocacy

ABC: "Are you going to marry her?"
XYZ: "I'll marry her tomorrow if that's what she wants."
ABC: "Why tomorrow and not today?"
XYZ: "It's Saturday and i don't bathe on Saturdays."
ABC: "How convenient!"
XYZ: "No, really. I'd marry her tomorrow if that's what she wants."
ABC: "OK. And what do you want?"
XYZ: "Her."

Modern resurrection

We'll be remembered as the generation that made boredom a means of life. Be it at home or office, we somehow find a way to be "bored". As if it's a matter of pride. At the risk of gifting you cramps, this is what we should do when we're bored. Run. Just get out of the room and run. On the street. On the road. Mud. Concrete. Whatever. Just run. Your otherwise dormant muscles will be mighty surprised. You'll feel your heart pounding. Your limbs will flail while feeling the cold wind even if you're running under Indian sun (yes, that's the magical part!). Run till you can't run anymore. And when you're done, you can rest your palms on your knees and take a look at your feet. They might feel sore but they are happy. You might look flustered but you are alive.

Lesson of the day

When a guy is about to take a piss, you aren't supposed to ask him whether he voted or not. The conditions aren't ideal, you see? He is standing there at his vulnerable best and trying to concentrate on kickstarting the urinary flow. It's not as easy as it seems. Especially when the loo is crowded. You close your eyes and think of that fountain of youth you were supposed to piss in. But before that could even materialize, the voices in your head go "SHAKTI! SHAKTI! SHAKTI! SHAKTI!..." sarcastically encouraging you. Well, they usually don't help. And in the middle of such a hapless scenario if somebody in the next urinal asks you, "Vote kiya kya?" Given the position your inked finger is in at THAT moment, you can't help spouting, "Wohi kar raha hoon."

Note

I'm flooded by you,

While awake as well as in my sleep  

— running or resting in your thoughts.

Not that i'm complaining.

No. 

Just making you aware of our loss.

Slipping in and out. 

Not that you need to know.

But i think you're amazing.

Wonderful as a dream that comes true. 

So pristine in your ways!

Not that my words mean anything.

Just wanted to find an excuse to talk.

And let you know why, how or what. 

The space between us and our past.

Not that i would have kept shut.

But it makes more sense to express,

without losing the thread of spark. 

May you end up with me and we begin something new.

Not that we haven't already.

Beautiful, aren't we?

Anyway.

I love you. 

Spread wide open

There's a myth among fishermen that if they happen to see clouds such as those in this picture clicked yesterday, they are bound to have a great haul. Their reels might even crack open. Not sure what happened in the sea but something unusual took place on the land. Last evening, the sky cracked open for about half an hour. Mumbai as well as Navi Mumbai had temporary relief from inhuman summer and except the hawkers, not many complained. Whoever said all the better things in life are free of cost was either a fisherman or absolutely right.