My New Roommate

Whom did you ask

Before taking up residence with me?

Why do you stare at me so

With those malevolent dark beady eyes,

When I have done nothing

Except mind my own business?

You respect my space,

Very little baggage you have brought in with you.

You seem the strong silent type,

You have resisted all my attempts to get closer to you.

Holding yourself aloof...

Do you not yearn for human contact?

Have you perhaps suffered

Trauma at a very young impressionable age?

For there is a dullness in your eye,

Except, when you stalk your unwitting prey.

There is a sense of sadism in you,

Primal nature, brutality, a pleasure in the hunt.

I find vile and disgusting

That dreadful chomping, as your unlucky meal struggles down your throat.

Unasked you have come

And overstayed your welcome.

I beseech you earnestly - Leave

And take that wiggling tail that you seem to have dropped with you...

Spritual Experiences...

Today, I was unfortunate enough to miss the bus in the morning. To the gravely uninformed, I'm doing an internship at GE Healthcare, which has it's presence in Whitefield, Bangalore, and is an hour's drive from the city, two if the traffic is heavy, as it is on most days. Perhaps the intent of having an office so far from the city was to promote camaraderie among employees by cooping them up in a bus (albeit with rather comfortable seats) for three hours everyday. A pretty lousy idea, which doesn't seem to work, because these people just don't talk! Every single one sits on an empty seat if possible and simply stares out the window. Bunch of antisocial buggers... take it from me, because the scenery isn't all that impressive.

Which brings us to today morning, when I missed the ol' GE bus. Being of a rather niggardly disposition, I decided to take a public transport one instead. My new fellow passengers weren't averse to making their opinions heard, whether it concerned the weather, the India-West Indies cricket match or what they thought of the conductor who yelled at them to move to the back of the bus, when even a child could see that there wasn't any space left there...

Listening in on the interesting conversations is all well and good, if one could forget that each bump on the road resulted in a couple of elbows digging painfully into one's ribs. Those sardines have it easy! Getting a seat wasn't that easy though, after standing next to two men who showed no signs of getting up anytime soon, I yielded to the conductor's pressure and departed for the back of the bus. No sooner had I moved, one of them got up and the fellow who was standing behind me sank into the empty seat with a shameless smile on his face. Bastard...

I did get a seat in the end, right atop a wheel which was making rather disconcerting sounds. The bus grew slightly lopsided, an effect of all those people hanging out the door I supposed. When we stopped, people outside shouted out to the driver that the tyre was punctured, but for reasons best known to himself, the bus continued on. I don't know if you've noticed, but sitting on a punctured tyre in an alarmingly tilted bus makes you feel rather close to God. I prayed...

When I finally got down, it was with a deep sigh of relief and gratitude. Someone above was watching over me. I could almost imagine Him winking down and saying in the deep powerful voice that Gods have, "Not today boy..."

"Yeah," I'd reply fervently, "Yeah..."

An expert opinion on Modern Art…

Some ten years ago, I once saw a cartoon, called Top Cat, I think… where this particularly enterprising cat decides to make a lot of dough by selling modern art. Not much of an artist himself, he nevertheless manages to create a few masterpieces by tying a paintbrush to the tails of a few tortoises and letting them roam around on the canvas.

Now, for a very long time, (remember that I was young then…) I thought that this was how these paintings were painted. The better the paintings were, (the closer they resembled what they were supposed to resemble!) the better trained were the tortoises used, or so I thought…

It seems that I was incorrect. It turned out that people painted those… things… themselves. I’ve often wondered why modern art became popular all of a sudden. Perhaps art connoisseurs grew tired of paintings which appeared extremely realistic, and began encouraging deviations from reality. Slight distortions at first, I suppose, and slowly things began to get out of hand. Picasso and the Cubists were born… Eventually, artists became so bad… that they were considered to be good! And thus, modern art was born…

Well… it’s an interesting theory in any case, and I was leaning towards it when something else struck me… something that seemed more plausible…

There was this exhibition I went to in Bangalore the other day, where I was leafing through the catalogue, when I came across Exhibit 31: Lady in a Bathtub. Being the red-blooded teenager that I am, I hurried forth to inspect the work of art. However, modern art reared it’s ugly head…

I saw streaks of red and green, and hints of yellow in between… but there wasn’t a trace of a lady anywhere in that bizarre mix of colours. Neither was a bathtub for that matter… Deeply disappointed, I turned away. Nearby, there was this old geezer spouting his theories on art, so I joined the audience…

Modern Art, he informed us, was not a true representation of the object being portrayed. You bet it isn’t, I thought gloomily, my thoughts still on the unaccounted-for lady. One had to see underneath, he explained, to find what inspired the artist to draw… I was pretty sure of what inspired the artist, the tiny sticker at the top of the painting, proclaiming that (in the artist’s view at least) the painting was worth ten thousand rupees…

The tiny audience nodded along, though I did catch a look of bewilderment on a few of the faces… But evidently, this guy was an expert, and one just didn’t disagree with them.

Which brings us to this very interesting thought. What if the whole thing was a scam? What if some people started the whole thing as a joke, and gradually pulled the whole of the public in? Some big-shot proclaims Modern Art as a new genre of painting, and the whole herd follows. No one wants to look stupid, disagreeing with everyone else… And the thing ends up like the Emperor’s new clothes… on a much larger scale!

That’s it for now, I got a painting to finish and millions to make :)

My Family... Part 5

Others…

I haven’t been blessed with as many cousins as everyone seems to have (my mother was an only child.) Perhaps this is a blessing, as some of my relatives are definitely… odd is the kindest term I can use.

One of my favourite cousins, is unfortunately also one of the odd ones. He was pretty normal, a little violent perhaps (ask my sister, they were eternal enemies before I was born), but pretty normal nonetheless. Then one day, the fellow decides to become a vegetarian. We were all understandably confused, everyone in my family is a vegetarian after all, I sometimes eat an egg, but I’m the anomaly. On further enquiries as to his new-found intentions, we found that he had decided to go the whole hog (Unintentional pun!). He had decided to stop eating

a) Omelettes

b) Cakes (they contain egg)

c) Ice-creams (he had read somewhere that they use some part of a buffalo as a gelling agent)

At this, I politely enquired as to whether he was going to stop drinking milk as well, lest he deny some poor calf it’s rightful meal. At the earnest request of his mother, he conceded that he would, in fact, drink milk. My comments about his fondness for coffee were not appreciated…

My cousin also turned religious overnight. He frowns upon any Western influence in any of our lives. He visits a temple everyday, and goes to classes to learn the Vedic scriptures. It is the earnest wish of many of my female cousins that he end up marrying a woman who wears tight, low-rise jeans (or preferably a mini-skirt), wears liberal make-up, and is preferably of a different religion, or even better, an atheist…

Another on my list of unnatural relatives is a particular aunt of mine on my mother’s side. Perhaps I should call her a second aunt, for her son and daughter are my second cousins. Or perhaps she’s my aunt twice removed or something like that? Nah, that sounds stupid. Getting back to the subject at hand however, the woman bears a startling resemblance to a town crier. Perhaps she was one in her previous incarnation, I can just imagine her beating a drum shouting ‘Hear ye! Hear ye!’

Yep, she’s one brilliant rumour monger. If there’s any story you want to spread, such that it reaches the lowest of beggars on the street to the Prime Minister (Well, that’s a but difficult, but I’m sure she’d be able to reach a Cabinet minister), all you have to do is give her a call. She doesn’t like me too much, I’m afraid, for I’m a rather closed mouth chap, and she has to try really hard to pry any information off me. In fact most of our conversations (thankfully, not too many of them happen!) are one sided ones. She asks me questions with regard to those things she deems are absolutely vital for her to know, and gets pretty mad when I give mono-syllabic replies. For some reason, the rest of my family finds this rather funny…

Well, I could go on and on… but time’s running short, I could for instance talk about the wonderful blessings my grandmother’s brother gives (he’s jealous of my sister’s and my brilliant achievements!), which generally go on the lines of “Do try and pass your exams, dear children…” and we dutifully say, “Yes, uncle…” or an uncle who’s really fond of christening people with strange names, (a toothless wrinkled up old man was unfortunate enough to be named ‘Jumping Jango’) or even an uncle whose snores rattle the glass on the window… but I can’t. Time and tide wait for no man, y’know… and I'm a little bored of the topic already!

Here’s to hoping that anyone mentioned above who happens to be reading this takes it well… Cheers!

My Family, Part Four...

My bro-in Law…

Privately, I am of the opinion that he thinks the rest of his wife’s family are complete bonkers. To be fair, he’s not completely wrong. He doesn’t say anything about it (nice guy!) but the occasional odd glance he gives us says it all, so does the nervous laughter when my father cracks a joke.

He likes playing cricket and tennis, and cheats at card games…

How to get on his good side… I’m not really sure, have to ask my sister, she always manages to get him to do what she wants!

My dog…

Perhaps the least complicated members of the family and the very epitome of ‘Simple mind, simple pleasures.’ Embarrassingly friendly to strangers and other dogs, if anything were to stop a burglar from entering the house, it most certainly won’t be him…

How to get on his good side… Hmm, you don’t have to do anything actually. A pat on the head might help, but anything more than that and he’ll end up dogging your footsteps. Heh, sorry, do continue reading, no more puns…