Few conversations and an impromptu journey

This journey, pretty close to being a romantic one, was also - under all measurable criteria - quite a talkative one. D was in Bhubaneswar (mind your b's, v's and pha's when in Odisha) and suggested over a call that we can mix business and pleasure that weekend, as she was relatively less occupied during that period. I checked the ticket rates and to my surprise Indigo's web services software had shockingly failed to apply the surge rates, which generally they so efficiently do. I quickly switched to incognito (you should always do this lest you want all data hungry web crawlers to hog on your personal data - mind you google still has access to your data, even when you are incognito) and booked a return ticket, without burning a deep hole in my pocket.
Meru cabs is the most trustworthy one when it comes to airport drops in Bengaluru, especially when our airport is in Chennai (last checked the latest uber app was allowing me to book cabs well in advance, more than the usual hour or two - yes more power to the consumer!) and even though it was just 5 hours before my journey would commence, the reliable service sent me an assuring message that i'll be picked up on time. The excitement of all this left me sleepless that night which was anyway very short!
Venkatesh called me at 2:30 am sharp, even before message details were sent from Meru. He was all too eager to pick me up for my 5:30 am flight. Within half an hour he called me again informing that he was waiting downstairs. I grabbed my "Oracle - iXL program" bag (that was the only bag that would contain all that I needed for my weekend sojourn - travel light, yes but unlike me do invest in your travel accessories and again unlike me, never disclose your identity via your luggage!) and hopped on the Verito to embark on a short and sweet (it was!) journey.

Venkatesh didn't loose any time to start a conversation - how he used to stay near Bomanahalli, was earlier a freight carrier driver, how he moved on to become a cab driver at Dell call centre and became familiar with Bengalure roads/traffic.

"Moved to Chikkaballapur now, saar...very expensive Bengaluru!"

"Drive two days straight, crash at my relatives sometimes...go to Chikkaballapur every 4-5 days"

"Two kids, one boy one girl...education very expensive here"

"Kids very smart these days, saar, speak fast english...know more about smartphones and tech than us"

"Had to pay 18K for boy's UKG and they were asking for 25K for his first standard...Chikkaballapur much cheaper, only 14K for first standard"


14k!! I bet I had completed my entire schooling in an amount less than that!

"You from Bengaluru?"

Not sure if he heard my response.

"Oh! Siddaramaiah is very corrupt, saar...takes money from everyone...he didn't pass a plan for an IT park near Chikkaballapur since the builder was not paying anything upfront and instead was bargaining to pay after the IT park was ready...he knows he wouldn't be around when they complete it...so was asking for upfront money"

Though I wasn't sleepy yet I was certainly in no mood to have a conversation at that hour. But what he said next, forced me to have an engaging conversation with Venkatesh!

"If i don't talk I'll fall asleep, saar!"

What! No!! You please continue - we might as well discuss global warming, US presidential elections, gonorrhea, piles anything under the sun to keep you awake!
"Pubs - Siddaramaiah has changed the timings now...drink till 1 am now and again he is making money with that."

"Naarth Indian girls drink too much saar...have taught south Indian girls also now"

So probably he did hear my response to his query.

"So drunk they can't even stand straight (makes a gesture with his hand - thumb and lil finger in a straight line and other fingers folded, shakes it then to mean girls unable to stand normally after drinks!)"

"Do not dress well also and in that condition anything can happen...not everyone thinks alike, saar"


Was I supposed to feel offended or tell him that it is their choice to dress, drink or do whatever with their life - instead i did what i do best - made a mumbling sound of neither agreeing nor disagreeing with him and remained silent till he picked up another thread!
"Thanks a lot Mr Venkatesh, it was nice talking to you!", was how this leg of my journey ended.

"Kursi kii peti aise lagayein..." - i had boarded the plane and every time I hear "peti" i can't stop smiling (the way the flight attendants speak Hindi with an English accent, amuses me to the core - in fact i go all bonkers in my head but try to keep only a smiling façade, without offending anyone!)

"Good morning ladies and gentleman, this is your captain, Anand Pillai speaking" - no sooner we were in air the captain decided to show off his oratory skills or probably to show off his, I admit, very thick baritone! It was almost like God talking and keeping us braced about the events at 20K feet above MSL.

"It is around 1200 kms to Bhubaneswar and we'll be covering this distance in little more than an hour and half"

Whoa jet speed - please do your math to get as astonished as I was! (not that this was the first time I was amazed by jet speed but accompanied, as it was, with the heavy baritone, it sounded so incredible!)

And Mr Pillai spoke intermittently throughout the flight from his "flight deck" about temperature, weather in Bhubaneswar and if it is cloudy we might feel some disturbances and jitters. However, it was his rich baritone which reassured me, at least, that such minor hiccups will be well taken care of!
He even spoke in Hindi (minus the accent thankfully), equally reassuringly, about how expertly he will take care of everything - or something similar, I wasn't paying much attention at the content and was rather lost in thoughts of how he could as well earn a living by doing voice overs in movies, ads - oh wait but where is the thrill in that! Here at a height of 20K he can bring people close to divinity, shake the belief of atheists - yup no thrill in being a voice over artist, it was a humbug thought!

"You must have guessed from the engine noise that we are descending..." - this was the last monologue from God! But we guessing from engine speeds - what are we Aeronautic geniuses, come on God!

Bhubaneswar is a relatively clean airport, when compared to the airports in this part of the world (alà Ranchi, Patna, you get the drift I hope). Trying to keep up with the mood and plan of this journey, I thought of taking a bouquet of red roses. As I was waiting at a florist just outside the airport Mr Pandav (the way he came to help me I guess Hanuman would've been an apt name), came rushing towards me.

"What type of bouquet you want Bhaina"
"Colorful - no I don't have roses"
"Where you going sir? Mayfair, come come"

"Aye one to Mayfair", he signaled at the pre-paid taxi counter. May be Pandav was the perfect name, handling everything with dexterity - Pandav is what Pandav does!

As I was waiting for the cab what amused me was the vehicle registration numbers around - OD, overdose! And I was about to know what, or rather whose overdose, was I about to get. I got into the pre-paid cab, which stopped to pick me up and guess who was the driver - Pandav! Did he have 5 twins or pentains or whatever you call it! OD!

"Bhaina this is my cab! I have three more cabs"
"You want bouquet...what is your budget?"
"I know a florist, my shop only, will take you there."
3 cabs, florist! Was he the most understated millionaire of Bhubaneswar!

He helped me get the roses I was looking for and also gave me his number in case I need to see more of his clones - just kidding, what he meant was if I needed any cabs for sight seeing.
Thankfully words from arbitrary characters dried up as I reached my destination. After two interesting, calming but breezy days at Bhubaneswar I am back with lovely memories of a chirpy jouney - full of spoken words and some unspoken ones too, by the way. A plane full of snoring paxs was the last sound of the journey which I remember, before I returned to the cacophony of Bangalore traffic.

A few Conversations and a train journey - 3

This was a long pending one,  previous two parts are here:

A few conversations and a train journey
A few conversations and a train journey - 2



As the man took out his luggage and started moving towards the exit, I jumped on the opportunity to take the window seat. Incidentally now I was face to face with the old man who was trying to make a conversation with me.

"You working?" - boomed the baritone. For such a lean frame that deep voice seemed out of place, as if he was hiding an amplifier in that flowing kurta of his to multiply his original amplitude or pitch (honestly speaking it has been years since I revised acoustics or physics for that matter).

"Yes in Bangalore".

"That is a nice place, pensioner's paradise". That is easy to guess how he knows this, he would have weighed his options of retiring in Bangalore.

"I guess not anymore, it is quite crowded now and the traffic there sucks", though I had no intention of offending the old man with my choice of words, I didn't know how else to put it. May be I should read more!

"Well India in general is crowded. We are all trying to survive and everyday is a struggle for existence, it is like a war here...just look around", I was not sure whether that was a condescending thought or he was just bemused by so many people fighting for a sitting place. Of course we are a billion strong country but what is lacking is not the resources but civic sense in us.

It seems that old man almost read my thoughts. "What matters is how we behave. You know when we were growing up people around used to talk how being independent will make us self-sufficient and powerful". Oh one of those midnight children!

"We believed every word of it, I still do. We have so many young people. Even if one guy spreads his knowledge and good sense to two, we can be a much better nation".

"But does anyone care? I mean why should anyone, when things like daily bread is the topmost priority and people would do anything to get that", this was my response. It was not senseless lines that I just blurted out. It was a response that had built up over time after seeing such stark difference in our society. Even I have travelled across length and breadth of this country and have seen a lot.

"Beta beg, borrow or steal is not what makes a great nation. Haven't you heard of this - A noble soul has reverence for itself".

I had definitely read that somewhere...but where?

"Our religious texts say what you do is what you become. Spread the goodness, do good things and become good. Good karma will make things around you beautiful. Geeta says though that you should not be attached to your karma." Wait a second, where are we going. There is a sanyasi in saffron robe sitting next to us and this man is quoting Geeta. Isn't it blasphemous of a bhogi to chatter about karma and life in front of a yogi!

"I don't think I am qualified enough to talk about that", was my terse response. However as soon as I uttered those words I was feeling the guilt.

After some pause, I callously asked "Are you in service or retired?"

"I am a doctor, once a doctor, always a doctor. Doctors do not retire". God! This man is so full of words!

"I have a son and a grandson, who would now be of your age I guess". Nope I am not telling you my age, even if you ask.

"They stay with you?"

"No, they are in Columbia". Wow! So that his how he is so glib in making a conversation. He must have travelled multiple times to the Americas.

"How often do they visit, or do you go there?", I never know how to frame my questions.

"We have not met for fifteen years now!", was his response. I could feel the remorse and a sense of anger in those words.

Another long pause and then he says "He married a Columbian and had brought her to Allahabad, what a shame that was". Now that is hypocrisy. Wasn't he just quoting all religious texts sometime back and now all of a sudden sulking about his son not marrying according to his wishes!

"May be it was my mistake. He returned back and has not come back to India since. Some twenty-four years back I had gone there with my wife on the birth of our grandson". Sometimes it is so easy to open up in front of strangers. You tend to speak your mind without caring about any prejudiced response. But none of this was my concern. I have a basic flaw when it comes to numbers. If there is any glitch in arithmetic my mind seems to just get stuck there.

The man of experience gauged this even. "Well my grandson had come with his mother some nine years back on his grandmother's funeral".

"I have learnt the lessons of my life the hard way. Beta you should never have a parochial outlook. Open up. A person of means can be a mentor to his subordinates, his juniors. That is how a society is built. You can not impose rules for such simple logic".

Just then a tea vendor appeared near our bay and interrupted the old man's speech. As I turned to ask for tea I could see at least a hundred eye balls gazing at us. That is bound to happen if you hear two people talk in English in Hindi heartland. I took two tea and offered one to the old man.

And then it struck me - "A noble soul has reverence for itself", Fredrich Neitzsche! Even Ayn Rand had quoted the same in her foreword to The Fountainhead. And this gave me goosebumps - you do not expect people to quote Neitzsche in a train from Allahabad to Patna.  I do not remember what exactly we talked about after this realization since I was in complete awe of this man. But what I do remember is the old man's last trick off his proverbial hat, when he handed me his business card. The name on it was - "Dr F.N. MS, FRCS"!

Few conversations and a Freak Accident

"Here is your Citibank envelope, Sir and the account number is your log-in and a special password is provided in the envelope for internet banking", he went on in his business like tone.

What!!!! Was I dreaming? I had filled the form just ten minutes back. Is this guy serious? 

He had not even cross-verified whatever I had filled. I could not keep my poker-faced expression for long and accepted this as another pleasant shock.

I should have had adjusted to these efficient ways, now that I had started my third day in the new company and especially after having experienced some real professionalism. I had come to open my salary account at the Citibank helpdesk on 6th floor of the building. Having an awful experience at such things in my last company, I was under the impression that the account docs will reach me in another week or so. And it might take another week to activate my account. 

But lo and behold!!! I was clutching on to my Citibank packet, like that was my dearest possession on the planet and walking back to my cubicle. All this in a record time of just 15 minutes. 

Do they have an entry in the Guinness Book of World Records? 

The Citibank representative had also stated that the account will be active in two days once the finance department of the company clears the verification. What else does one need? 

Thank you Mr.? - And I didn’t even ask his name. Shall I say hangover of my last company’s behavioral traits.

The building where my new company is located is oval shaped with a huge atrium at the centre which is well bounded by parapets. After seeing the building plan on the intranet, I had thought of just having a dekko at the atrium. Curiosity had the better of me and there I was, moving towards that passage which opened there. Walking next to the parapet, I looked down and the sight was good enough to give me weak knees. 

It was like I was gazing down a deep pit of around seventy feet - I never knew that I had fear of heights until that day! I tried controlling myself and under the duress pushed the nearest door that opened into the oval hall surrounding the atrium. I almost ran towards the stairs and reached my cubicle on the 4th floor. Was my head reeling? May be I am acrophobic.

"Accident!!”, I was almost startled! 

It was an employee who was standing at the window near my cubicle and was just seeing the vehicular movement on the road. People here, as I have noticed, have peculiar ways of killing time. Some make "dhin-chak" drum sounds from their mouth while gazing at their computer screens, some play the good old Pac man on their laptops and yes there is a group of cricketers as well. Every afternoon they play cricket in their cubicle and pretty energetically, with appeals and all. And then there was this man who loves roads (rather one road) and vehicles!

There is a small passage next to my cubicle and after the passage is a row of windows with blinds. This row of windows opens towards the Langford Road side of the building. The road-lover had pulled up the blinds and was satiating his visual urges. No sooner had he shouted, he was joined by his co-workers.  The CUG (close-user-group), a dedicated group of friends who are ever ready to join each other under any circumstances, had herded around road-lover to get a glimpse of the action!

"Oh it is that i10 and it has knocked off that bike!!” this guy wanted everyone to know about his observation skills.

"Oho it has scraped that Indica as well", the same guy. He must be the Harsha Bhogle of this floor. With thick curly hair and thicker glasses, his looks were a far cry though.

"Taewwonnn…Tding...tiding”, this was supposed to be the background music. Bollywood has drastically altered an average Indian’s dramatic skills.

“Hehe…Shankar you should join Rangashankara!!!” Yes, the guy surely will fit back stage, with such superior skills and a nerdy face, who needs a synthesizer for background score?

“You see that lady. Look she is coming out now. She will not accept her mistake”, Harsha was on, unmindful of the praise his accomplice was getting.

“See I told you, the Indica guy is gone now. May be he should surrender. You can not win in an argument with a LADY DRIVER”. Our commentator was as undiplomatic as they come!

“Hey see that guy running from the other end of the road?” This was a person who looked pretty confused with all commotion but still, it seemed, had a better observation than our commentator.

“Yes!! Saw that? He was unbuttoning his shirt cufflinks…hahaha is he going to beat up that lady?” Our Harsha is not bad and with finer details like unbuttoning of cuffs - is he in a wrong profession?

“It seems no one has any job…see such a small accident and there’s a crowd already”. How true? Incidentally, there was one some 50 ft above the place of action as well. And Mr. Manager (he can not be anyone else) was unaware that he too was doing the same thing. This is true anywhere in India. You have a freak accident and a crowd will surround you, not to help but to see what has happened. May be everyone is so bored of the saas-bahu serials on TV!!!

“I think we should call the TV guys to cover this”, another media influence and we should thank channels like AajTak for this. From a child rescued from under a deep sewage hole to the lost-and-found story of a commissioner’s dog, they can make anything prime time news. After all it has a reputation to mach.

This AajTak fan commented and made a move towards his cubicle. Walking past me he gave a smile and I smirked back not at him but his taste for news channels. The mob-mentality was in place and without any second thoughts all of them started moving towards their respective places.

Phew!! So much for one i10 and one Indica. There was one more casualty (was it a bike!!) but I was busy with my project document and never thought about it.

At that time my group admin turned up and I was informed about the procedure to collect my ID. As instructed I went to the ground floor of the building and posed for a photograph. The lady there informed that in another 20 min the ID will be dispatched to the 4th floor reception and I can collect it from there. Another instance of efficiency!!

After I came back I saw our commentator coming back to the window.

“Hey guys!!! It is still on” Wow!!! How long can you argue over two cars - and one bike? And how long can you have an interest in that?

“No!! The Indica driver is not giving up. Man!! The guy is resolute.”

“Shankar!! See that lady. She is going now with the Indica man. Thank God, peace at last”. May be the lady was taking the Indica guy to police station. Watch carefully you moron!! Someone has to pay for the repairs.

Shankar also joined our commentator but from their looks it was clear that the action was over. I got a call from 4th Floor reception that the ID card was ready and I can collect it from them.

I hurriedly moved out with all my belongings. It was already five o’clock and after collecting the ID I decided to leave for the day. There is no doubt that the day was eventful but the repercussions of the events were still waiting for me. 

As I reached the parking I got the first shock. It was my bike which was knocked off by the LADY DRIVER. One rear view mirror was broken and as I kick-started my bike I heard a crackling sound. This was the icing on the cake, the sound was emanating from the chain box as the chain after falling off the axle had got stuck in it. It was a pretty bad fall for my poor bike.

How I wish instead of being the holier-than-thou idiot, I had joined the motley group to catch a glimpse!!! This is what is called “Khaya peeya kuch nahin glass phoda 12 aana”.

PS: Well there is another more explicit saying in Hindi for this situation but it can not be put on this blog.

A few Conversations and a train journey - 2

Naini is the first stop which is hardly any distance from Allahabad. We were joined by a group of local people who were going to Mughal Sarai, a place more known for its railway station than any other thing. Some more commotion followed but thankfully no more jostling for any seat. My restlessness was pretty obvious to people around but why would anyone care.

“Going to Patna, beta?” a deep baritone in chaste English without any trace of accent surprised me. I turned to find it was the old man in kurta-pajama who was eager to know my destination.

“No Bhagalpur”, I blurted, knowing for sure that at least in UP, my home-town is not as renowned as Patna.

“Oho another six hours from there”, this man sure knew his “time and distance” stuff and obviously geography.

I was in no mood for any conversation but in the Hindi heartland if someone starts off in English, without any local accent, it generates a sense of curiosity. And that too in SL class of Indian Railways. Did someone say “India shining”?

“I am going to Patna”.

Wow!! Even this train is going to Patna!!! Not interested can’t you read SIR.

I have never been to any foreign country - being a software engineer for more than three years and not touching overseas shore is a shameful act, at least in India (anyway who gives a rat’s arse) – but I am pretty sure this conversing with uninterested people is prevalent only in India.

“You are from Bihar?” We, Indians, are good in converting an assertion into a question by just changing the tone. I was just trying to appreciate his effort for conversation and this is what came out of me.

The man gave me a toothy smile and I could see it was a false teeth set, not fitting his aged jaw line. “No”, the baritone responded. So he is well traveled at least to know the timings to various stations or may be he has some connections.

Was he smiling on my wrong guess or was it my English?

“You see, I feel more like an Indian than belonging to any particular state.” Impressive words, suits the baritone.

The man who was sitting on my side of the window started making some movement. He squat on the ground and started pulling out his luggage from beneath the berth.

Oh great!!! - Another encroacher of seats. He has no reservation and still was occupying the window seat.

A few conversations and a train journey

“It is because of the rains, bhai sahib”, I heard the most ubiquitous explanation for the oppressive humidity as I was checking my berth number. It was an August morning and as I glanced across I saw quite a few grimacing faces, thanks to the humidity.

The journey between Allahabad and Patna is not too long (if you are lucky and the God of karma - they call Him Vishwakarma - is on your side then it takes around eight hours). However, the heat in these regions makes it really unbearable in the summer months. August is not exactly summer but more than the temperature it is the rains (me too!!!) that makes the journey very tiresome. And if you have a booking in the SL class, which is equivalent to general class in this part of the country, you are in the heat of things, literally.

I had a booking for the middle berth and as it was a day journey there was very little chance of me occupying my place. Asking for an excuse I joined the motley group which, though didn't exchange smile, had made enough movements to make me feel comfortable.

Colours were very vivid on the berth opposite to the one I had just occupied. On the far end towards the window sat an elderly man in flowing white hair and matching kurta-pajama. No facial hair made him look younger than he actually was. Next to him sat a sadhu and in complete contrast to the previous occupant had every part of his face covered with hair. He was wearing a saffron robe, which is quite common attire of sadhus in the northern states of India. Three other people had also somehow fixed themselves to the berth and even though each one of them was not very comfortable, none of them was giving an inch to the other. It was more than a war and everyone knew an inch is more than a kilometer in war.

To be contd...

Few conversations and a bus ride (Part-3)

“Even we had a training and test before we joined and this test thing that they have started has made it a very serious affair” , Aman said.

“I think it is like clearing another semester exam. By the way, when have you joined ?” , Priya queried.

“I joined in January last year, it is almost two years now!!” , Aman said.

“Where are you from?”, Priya was getting inquisitive.

“I am from the badland of Bihar”, Aman responded.

Aha!! There is a connection. But the qualifier used by Aman was pricking me, so much so that I felt like turning and hitting him hard on his face.

“Badland!! Well…”, even Priya seemed amused and though she didn’t express it, her feelings about Bihar were clear.

“Well matlab what?”

“Nahin, I mean why badland?” , Priya asked.

“That is the general impression of people about Bihar.” , Aman said.

“And you beg to differ” , Priya said.

“I would rather say that people don’t know the real Bihar. We used to be the most civilized people, the old universities of Nalanda and Vikramshila, stand testimonial to that. But I won’t be denying the fact that all that has been lost and the current state of affairs is really pathetic.” Whoosh!!! “Never judge a book by its cover!!” This guy, it seems, has debated quite a lot on this topic.

“Aath baj kar teen minute ho gaya hai aur ee hai Bangalore ka phavorite radio station, Radio City” that was RJ Vasanthi’s voice with a very unfamiliar feel to it.(She just freaks out if someone calls her Basanti, as in ‘Basanti, in kutton ke saamney mat nachna’).

There are a few things which I like about our driver and one of those things is this radio which he keeps on till we reach EC. This for sure makes our “pain-in-ass” journey a bit less painful.

And that strange twang in Vasanthi’s accent!!! That made me feel as if today was Bihar day. What else can one feel when a few centimeters from me there is a discussion going on about Bihar’s rich culture and someone a few kilometers away renders words alien to her?

“At least someone believes your words”, Priya gave a chuckle.
I tried hard to hear Aman’s response but it was drowned in a loud honk - everyone seems to loose their cool once we reach Hosur road.

Too much honking had already left my mood sour, as is the case everyday. Besides, there was a beautiful number being played on Radio City currently. I was lost in the rhythm when I heard Priya say,

“You see Gujjus are more into spicy things.”

“Even we have our share of spice. Haven’t you heard of Litti?”, Aman said.

“Yes I think I have heard of that, made of sattu or something.”

This is great!! Now they are discussing about the cuisines from east and west. May be Priya has a Gujju connection. If she has, then this is what I call a salubrious instance of national integration – A guy from East India and a girl from South India (with a Gujju connection) discussing about their respective cuisines on a boring morning in South India.

“Wow!! You seem to know quite a bit about Litti!!”, Aman was amazed.

“My boy friend is from Bihar and it is from him that I came to know this.”

Kaboooooooommmm!!!! That was a royal crash for Aman.
And "HE" stays in Sanjaynagar, Aswathnagar(to be precise), was my guess. I knew it from the time Priya had talked about Vaibhav theater.

“Great!! Is he a software engineer?”, the waver had crept in Aman’s voice. It was obvious how heart broken he was. Poor chap!!
But Casanovas surely have heart of steel. It would have been tough for an ordinary guy to regain composure and utter something so sensible as Aman did.

“Yes, he works for Microsoft.”

I almost chortled. Didn’t it all start with the MS thing?

Few Conversations and a bus ride (Part-2)

Priya never responded to those high sounding words or may be she did which I lost, partly due to our over-ambitious driver (who can take on anyone in the world, or so he thinks) and partly due to the heavy traffic and the usual honking that accompanies it. Nothing has changed in Bangalore even though we have been almost rebuked by the PoI.

“Where are you put up?” Priya asked.

I have found that this is a common way of asking people as to which part of the city they stay in. And this is more common among people in software industry.

“Sanjaynagar, Aswathnagar to be precise, I hope you have heard about it” replied Aman.

Priya had boarded the bus near Indian Express(Bangalore's centre, almost) so I thought she might not know about the northern boundary of Bangalore.

“I think I have heard about the place, isn’t Vaibhav theater in that area?” she really amazed me with her sense of geography and with landmark and all – she surely had been to Sanjaynagar,Aswathnagar(to be precise).

“Yeah!! Vaibhav is in Sanjaynagar. You seem to have quite good knowledge about Bangalore”

“I am a ‘localite’, was born here and did my schooling and engineering from here” I should have guessed it but I was more concerned about that word which has somehow crept into local lingo. I am not sure whether it finds mention in leading English dictionaries but now that ‘samosa’ has been added ‘localite’, ‘native place’ and other very commonly used words may soon see the light of the day.

“Oh! Great”, Aman exclaimed (he didn’t mean it).

Though Priya was a ‘localite’, to know about a theater in one corner of the city requires more than one connection and I thought even Aman would have guessed that connection. But Casanovas are people who don’t give up unless the word flows from the horse’s mouth and they don’t believe in deduction from subtle hints either. Besides, our hero was no ordinary one; he belonged to that “the” class of people.

“You seem to have joined here recently” Aman said (this is not the way Aman, make it interrogative).

“Yeah, I joined in the first week of November and had to attend some training”

“But I never saw you in this bus” this guy surely knows a thing or two about conversing, sentence formation notwithstanding.

“I had the training in Madivala office and have a test today in EC so had to take this bus” Priya replied. (EC- Electronics City)

By this time we had crossed Kormangala and were near the St John’s Hospital. There is an unofficial bus stop near that junction and I was not able to hold my smile when I saw a lady, at the bus stop, rubbing her finger nails against each other. This is a very common sight these days, thanks to Swami Ramdev and to his spiritual sorties on some not so spiritual TV channels and to his twisting skills which has convinced people of the power of Hath Yoga.

To be continued...

Few Conversations and a bus ride

“Bill Gates is opening a research n development centre in Bangalore”, this was a voice, bit feminine but with enough hints to guess the gender. I didn’t turn back to squint at the source but could feel the excitement and a bit of exasperation in the words. So much so that I almost guessed the next statement, “I hope he is not thinking of some site near Electronics city.” It was too early for any discussion these comments escalate to especially when I had just started feeling the warmth of my seat. Traveling to Hosur Road from North Bangalore in a company bus (generally full of people looking overloaded) is comparable to any of the-pain-in-the-ass things one can think of.

“Well it would bring fame to Bangalore, besides opportunities for the engineers passing out from here”, this comment was definitely feminine and seemed more like a self-assuring one rather than a response.

“Oh hi!! But I think it will surely add to chaos here”. Nice opening line dude!!
I must have heard or read about thousands of opening lines to converse with a lady-
“It seems I have seen you somewhere” or “Are you such and such”, better still “You look very similar to …” - but I must admit this was the most straightforward and the most awkward way of starting it.

“I am Aman”, my guess about the gender was perfect.

“Myself Priya”, was the response, much softer.

Now all my plans of a serene Thursday morning were waning. Thursdays are great- so near yet so far, weekend seems to be just round the corner separated by just one more day to kill.

“You see if this R&D centre opens up we can easily finish almost all bestsellers of the year, thanks to the idle commuting time”.

“Huh!!”

Such a sound would have discouraged any die-heard flirt worth his salt but our hero was worth much more than a humble lump of salt or so he thought. And he continued, “I hope you have heard about KPO, Knowledge Process Outsourcing. This is something new for India but with this initiative by Microsoft I think people world over would notice for sure”.
Impressive words, the guy is either too concerned about the state of engineers in India or he is just showing-off.

May be that “Huh” has hit where it hurts the most.

Though it seemed like a harangue for me when it all started yet now I was all ears to this never-say-die Casanova and a girl, about whom I was still oblivious but for her name.

It was a typical December morning in Bangalore. We were moving from northern part of the city towards the southern most regions, our destination being Electronics City. It is quite strange that so many people stay almost at a missile’s throw distance from the beautiful and serene North Bangalore and have no qualms about spending couple of hours on a 50-seater (3-by-2, no pushback!) just idling and some even snoring away their morning blues!


To be contd....