Blues in the greens (1) - A soul ride through god's own country.

The girl with the most itchy feet Vaidu, once mentioned there is a certain difference between touring and travelling. When you plan a tour, the commute, the stay, the activities and the meals are all orchestrated and executed. While when you travel to a place, you just pack your bags and go to the core lure to know the soul of the place, the way people live, the way it existed since eons. Honestly! I prefer comfortable touring over the adventurous travelling but I did try my best to read the soul of God’s own country. Let me give you a virtual ride through the streets of Kerala.

Kochi:

The climate is humid as we landed in the heart of Kochi, a city bustling with activity unlike the rest of Kerala. We met our cabbie, Basheer a 60+ man who has kind eyes and a warm smile. Without wasting time we had our lunch at a road side eatery before we took off to the hill station Munnar, a 3 hour drive, some 120 kms away. I was told that it is a ghat road and I held on to my medication dearly. I don’t enjoy Ghat road drives. I throw up or I may land in one of those spells of vertigo. So, I braced myself for the worst.

Munnar:

Roads:

As we snaked through the labyrinth of roads of this hill station, I realized how wrong I was! This is like no other ghat road. It did not have those hair pin bends that wrench your guts. Even if it had, they are barely noticeable in the overwhelming picturesque landscapes. The ghat road is least intimidating with a fence of palm trees planted by god with his own hands across the valleys. Pepper park, cardamom country, cinnamonin bars, Elachi gardens, Misty mountains, Spice valley, Silver oaks, Tea and you, Every now and then hoardings entice you claiming they are the best. “Sharukh and Deepika stayed over at silver oaks for a quarter month while shooting for Chennai express” boasts our driver.

Weather:

SEPTEMBER, the month of onam. The predictions call for no-sun screens, No hats and coats, No umbrellas. Yet it rained cats and dogs throughout our stay. We are not those kinds who frown at the mud soiling our shoes. Instead we are among those who would love to dance in the rain. Clouds passed right under our feet giving us the ON-TOP-OF-THE-WORLD experience. 

Rain lashes at us when we take a turn on those serpentine roadways, only to vanish by the next. The breeze is so soul soothing that it feels as if a woman you dearly love is caressing your hair with her arachnoid fingers. It’s truly a day out of my book of fairy tales.

Trees:

When I said palm trees, I did not mean those petit 12 foot ones but these are thrice as much taller. The tree trunks aren’t nude unlike their sibling all over the country. They are either covered with moss and ferns or entwined with the creepers of pepper and vanilla. Bamboo shoots greet you every now and then.

We detoured through a spice garden. It felt as if I were walking through the pages of a botany text book. I got to breathe in the aroma of fresh spices and condiments (cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, pepper, Hinge, Vaamu, turmeric) as our guide explained me about them in great detail. I witnessed coffee beans sprout and jack fruits ripe right in front of my eyes. 

I got to see ayurvedic saplings like insulin and Sanjeevini. Yes! The very sanjeevini which Lord Hanuman bestowed upon an unconscious Laxmana. My jaw dropped to the floor when I learnt that the plant glows with a red hue at nights but I was not lucky enough to witness it in the broad day lights.

Housing:

I loved the houses of Munnar. They are built on the very pillars of keralan architecture. Each house precisely speaks out its age. One has to walk up a ramp or take stairs to reach each of those road side dwellings. None of them had picket white fences. All of them had green carpets of moss, cushioning the stairs, welcoming the guests. The railings are rusted. The houses are either too eye catchy or silently merge away in those misty mountains. The walls are either painted with ‘jatang yellows and fluorescent pinks’ or build with rock cubes without a white wash. The stone manors stand boldly, their heads held high, against the constant rain lashings. The roofs are slanting and covered with red tiles, again an arrangement to beat the rainy weather.

Onam:

I noticed each house welcomed their guests with an artistically decorated floral spread called as “Kolam”. Being an art enthusiast, I asked our driver about the kolam of flowers and the festival of onam. Dusting his memory he recited us the tale that dates back to vamanavtaar. Bali was a great emperor who treated his folks with great generosity. He refused to rule Paatala loka, the underworld, where Asuras dwelled in chaos. When lord Vishnu approached Bali chakravarthy in the disguise of a petit bramhin boy, he was granted three steps by the mighty king. In the first step he occupied earth. In the second he occupied the skies.

“Raja! Where shall I place my third step?” the boy who is an incarceration of lord Vishnu questioned the king.

“Place it on my head o lord Vishnu” Bali replied. And thus he was grounded to paatala loka where he brought order and discipline among the Asura kinship. Once in a year, that is on the festive day of Onam, Bali is welcomed back to earth and treated with delicacies like pala payasam for the sacrifice he did. Women decorate their houses with kolams and sing and dance around it welcoming their king to emerge out from the worlds below.

Huggables

Every girl needs a BF in her life. And I met my girl on the very first day of her life. I was there right beside her when her mom placed her in the crib. But she never noticed me. She was in a blissful siesta. It took a couple of months before she rolled over to smile at my face. Patting my face she cooed a merry hello and that’s how we made up. If you r wondering whether I am a boy or a girl, I am a pillow and this is my story. Now ‘Don’t piss me off with those ‘Do-pillows-have-a-story?’ looks. You guys are just envious ‘cos I am more huggable.

Yes! She hugs me every night and I kiss her a goodnight. She grew up playing princess in this pillow castle and I cushioned her every fall. When the war breaks lose it’s with pillows after all. She dresses me in these fancy pillow cases. I’m a Tweety a day and a smiley the other day, A heart a day and a rose on another day. We play peek-a-boo and pass in the parcel all day long and climb up the slumber world to claim dreams by nights.

Her teens were the best years of my life. Extravagant hugs and kisses made my toes curl. Thank god! I don’t have fins and bones or they would have surely snapped in one of those bears hugs. All those late night talks and mid day naps....we could as well have been Siamese twins. I may not have the feel-good-hormones firing in her veins but HECK! I felt GOOD. Really good.

Rainbow bows might fade away but it certainly never marks the end of the day. Her turbulent-teens gave way to more-mature-mid-twenties. She lapped books and laptops, but I was always there cushioning them all, through spring and through fall.

I thought that she is sweet until I tasted the first of her tears. I took in a truck load of salt as I nursed her through a major heart break, then the other and then another. I decluttered her dilapidated heart as she patched my tattered covers. How I wish she could be the same old ‘smile-all-day-long’.

She must have had her fingers crossed when I made my wish for it was granted very soon. She entered wedlock with this handsome marquis who made her smile like never before. He tickled her merely with his eyes and I could never figure out how, for I had to close my eyes whenever he inched closer to her. If I was a tweeny bit envious of him it would fade away too soon in the rosy blush of her cheeks.

One day she took me in to her hands and stuffed me in her pajamas. I could not make what the hell it was all about in the suffocation but he did. He hugged her crushing me in the process overwhelmed by the news she delivered. “Can somebody explain me what’s going on?” I barked but no one bothered. They left me guessing at it pensively for 9 long months as she stuffed me under her back or belly, or sandwich me between her legs at times. I found this weird but nevertheless I did what I always did. I cushioned her, comforted her and supported her until I met her once again in the same old crib. She is in a blissful siesta and I know I have to wait for a while before she rolls over smiling at my face.

Ink story

                                                                     

The Indian handmade paper welcomed him with splayed arms. Unlike the machine mades she might not be smooth and bright but she enthralled him like the Banaras saree draped Indian beauty personified. Her aroma, the scent of a freshly unrolled parchment, is intoxicating. Yet he is not bewitched by her charm today.

The pen perspired as he thought ‘Creative writing is nothing but an art of spinning something out of nothing…. But…How am I to do that today?’ Of course he knew he doesn’t need a wand to do some magic. With a single flick he can conjure either a Hogwards school of witchcrafty and wizardry or a ‘nothing-so-special-about-me’ Esbella swan who dies to live with a vampire with frozen heart.

A fat drop of ink sweated out through his pores and slid down to the waiting parchment before he could wipe his brow. She imbibed it like it were the first drop of rain. No pertrichor.

“Ouch” he yelped. “Never mind” she reassured.

Moved by her passion and patience he reached out to nuzzle her with his words of love. She blushed like the newly wed. Though it tickled where he touched she didn’t wither away. He did. He shook his head, as if trying to shove the apparently-not-so-good-idea at the back of his mind, splashing more drops of ink. She smiled as she danced in the pitter-pattering shower. More pertrichor. 

‘To write something you must risk making a fool of yourself’ The American author Anne rice quoted quiet aptly. He gathered courage and raced head-on to pen down his pent up thoughts. He ran out of ink. The empty ink bottles, black and blue, mocked him from the desk. He drank gustily from the bottle of red ink instead.

Recapitulated, he touched her eagerly. A blotch of red ink spread over her like wildfire. She appeared to bleed. She never winced. He did. She bore the sindhoor ka tika like a tiara However he backed away from her as if he were charred holding red  hot embers. He plonked himself on the table hiding his shameful face under his cap, knocking the remains of the ink bottles all over her.

She is no more a white paper. His signature is all over her. Yet he disowned her. She would have crumpled….but she is not a toilet paper to be treated like S***. She held her head high with a pride that never edged on arrogance. She did what she always did. Awaited patiently, whether white or not, for the priceless moment of triumph.  

Then she met him accidentally.  The waters colours were his world in his youthful vigour. For reasons known best to him he preferred to step off the pedal. He retreated to a dark colourless world that seldom sees through the day light. A look at her and she brought the memories flooding back. He thought she looked like a lady doused in a curve hugging, wet, shiffon, white saree on the eve of Holi, the festival of colours. He brushed her. She Blushed. A delicate shade of baby pink. They made up with each other. 

She had her priceless moment of triumph when the pen signed “A creative mess is better than a tidy idleness”.

Smoking kills slowly...who is in a hurry to die?

Ravi spotted his favourite tauji, seated under the banyan tree as usual, smoking his cigar. A school of languid men roared with laughter at the prangs and pangs of this mischievous man. Every day they long to gather at the tree by dusk to discuss everything and anything from politics to the brand of the hair dye the mistress of the hairless headman uses.

“Pranam tauji” Ravi said touching the feet of the elderly man.

“Oh Ravi! My boy. When did you return from the city?” tauji perked up at the sight of this docile youngster. He noticed the pencil thin moustache Ravi sported and chuckled to himself. ‘The boy will soon grow up to be a man of honour’ his heart told him. ‘He will be the first ever doctor of the clans’.

“Yesterday night Tauji. We have a vacation of 15 days” replied Ravi trying to sound not too excited.

“Oh well! In that case lets have some fun” Tauji said. He trashed the cigar with his tattered chappal only to light up another.

“Oh tauji! You are such a chain smoker. Why don’t you quit smoking?” Ravi mustered his courage and doled out the advice he always wanted to give. Perhaps the city waters are getting to him.

Tauji guffawed “oiii! Then what about my 10 benefits of smoking? I will be at a terrible loss. You may have sprouted a moustache but you are still a gullible baby to my eyes. Thek hai?”

“Benefits of smoking?” An astounded Ravi asked. He is aware of his classmates stealing a puff or two between study breaks claiming the Stimulant action of nicotine on central nervous system and brain. But he preferred cup full of caffeine over puff full of nicotine to combat his drowsiness.

“Oye! Smoking is beneficial? Sunao sunao. We would love to know those perks” cacophony broke among Tauji’s club at the mention of fringe benefits of smoking.

“Benefit No.1: My cigar beholds my masculinity. Parvathi says I look sexy with a cigar rolling between my lips.” His cronies wolf whistled at the mention of the ever youthful Parvathi. ‘But then Laxmi never liked the whiff of the cigar. She refuses to get intimate when I smoke’ Tauji spoke of Tayiji distastefully.

“All wives are old schoolers” somebody agreed.

“Benefit No 2: You need not cook any food yet your neighbours think high of you. ‘Arey who dekho! Smoke from tauji’s kitchen. It smells strong too. Perhaps a chicken cuisine again!’

‘Ha ha haa! That’s a good one’ one of them complimented. Tauji continued stroking his moustache.

“Benefit No.3: You will never have flair of relatives…..especially from your wife’s end. The smoke drives them away”. Ravi sighed. He got the cue. His tauji is in the ‘I-Am-being-Naughty’ mood again. “Nor mosquitos…nor house flies…nor cockroaches. Consider that’s Benefit No.4” Few more laughs.

“Benefit No.5: It gives you a wizened look. When you don’t know the answer take a puff and pretend to think” Tauji winked at Ravi.

‘Unfortunately that doesn’t help us in the seminars, reviews and interviews’ Ravi replied sarcastically

.

“Benefit No.6: wives of smokers do not pester them to buy gold”. Somebody smirked. “They are too busy pestering us to quit smoking…Ha ha haa….”

“Benefit no.7: It protects you against dog bites” Tauji declared.

“Howz that?” Ravi asked incredulously.

“you may need to carry a stick due to calf cramps…and No bitch will dare to cross paths with you” he boasted. Lesser laughs from Tauji’s club. Ravi smiled. He knew where his Tauji is leading them. “That’s a disease called Thromboangitis obliterans tauji. Nicotine plaques block the blood supply of the legs and cause cramps. Sometimes it ends up with amputation of that limb” Ravi added knowledgably. Gasps from the clan.

“Never mind. Benefit No.8: Burglars never dare to step foot at your place. You see! You cough all night and they can hardly figure out whether you are awake or asleep.” No more laughs. A picture of a man coughing copious amounts of blood coloured their imagination.

“Benefit No.9: It’s a natural contraceptive” People starred at Tauji. “You are rendered impotent” he said point blank. Nobody met his eye.

“Benefit no. 10: Smoking is age defying” he declared pompously. Nobody asked for a “How?” They as much expected a witty follow through. “Smokers die young” Tauji concluded. Pin drop silence. People introspected. Struggled to make decisions. Hesitated to come to conclusions.

Taking a leaf from Tauji’s book Ravi broke the silence saying “smoking kills slowly…but who is in a hurry to die?” The fellowship of Banayan tree praised Ravi’s timely wit and humour and how he inherited those genes from his Tauji before they dispersed.

“Tauji! Do you remember what day it is tomorrow?” Ravi asked his tauji.

“31^st may?” Tauji scratched his bald head thinking. “The day your tayiji passed away” he said sounding from the bottom of a well.

“Yes! It’s THE WORLDS NO TOBACCO DAY as well. Please quit smoking and set an example for the iron willed person you are” Ravi requested his tauji. “I will help you in the process. There are nicotine patches, chewing gums, LED cigars which helps a person to cut down his nicotine supplies on a daily basis and finally leap over to QUIT. Trust me you will not suffer the withdrawl.

Tauji had a forlorn look on his face which mirrored what he thought. Of what good my life is without Laxmi?

“Tayiji died because of passive smoking. How else do you think she acquired lung cancer. This is the true tribute you can pay her. Let there be no more deaths due to smoking in our village” Ravi persuaded. Tauji smiled at this enthusiastic budding doctor and nodded his approval.

RELATED SITES: 

E-CIGRATTE http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Electronic_cigarette

NICOTINE PATCHES http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicotine_patch

NICOTINEGUMS  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicotine_gum

http://main.omanobserver.om/?p=84671

Sambhavami yuge yuge

                                            

Rama called it a day and retired to his kuteer to rest. He left his bow and arrows on a cane table beside his cot. He splashed cold water over his face, rinsed his hands and feet before he reached for the basket of exotic fruits offered by the vaanaras. He is over whelmed by their hospitality and devotion. And now, it's his turn to return their favour. Tomorrow is a big day and he is not yet ready for it.

                                                                 

                                                           ********************

kanah called it a day n retired to his private chambers to rest. He removed his peacock feather studded crown, tussled his unruly hair before he drained the tumbler of cow's milk offered by the gopikas. He is indebted by their affection and devotion. yet a life time is too trivial to repay their love. The dooms day has come and he is not yet ready for it.

                                                                   

                                                             *******************

Rama closed his eyes to meditate. He prayed lord Rudra to bestow him the power to fight Vaali, sugreevas twin brother. He abducted sugreevas wife and mortgaged his kingdom. Rama is taught that in a dharma yuddha the virtuous remain victorious. But how in the name of lord sun will this happen tomorrow?

Rama doubted it is far from a dharma yuddha. The war is not fair and square. Vaali is bestowed with a boon from Lord Bramha that whoever fought vaali in a one-to-one combat, looses half of their strength to vaali, thus making him invincible.  Rama bound by his rectitude couldn't think of a way around. He cannot be deceitful. He is Lord ram, son of dasaradha, the bearer of sun dynasty's reputation. He cannot be smart or manipulative. That is not in his morality.

But what must be done, must be done!!! May lord Vishnu, the omniscient show a path!

                                                                  

                                                             *******************

kanah closed his eyes to sleep. He is well aware that he can slay kamsa in a go but how can he fight with his own tears when it's time to depart Radha rani? He knows Yudhistar needs him. Kurukshetr has to be fought some day and Dharma reinstated. He has greater responsibilities and all that but how can he walk away from her with a stone heart?

Heck with the world and the dharma. He is enslaved to her divine beauty. He cannot break her heart. He cannot do what must be done.  May lord vishnu, the omniscient show a path!

                                                                        

                                                            *******************

Rama opened his eyes to find himself on a peacock bedstead. It looked like a private chamber of a prince. He found himself dressed befitting in silk dhothi, pearls and diamonds. A flute and a crown studded with a peacock feather sat over the table where he supposed he left his bow and arrow the other night. Rama wondered whether it was a dream?

                                                             

                                                           *******************

Kanah opened his eyes to find himself on a cane cot. It looked like a kuteer by the hill side. He found himself dressed in a saffron dhothi and tulasi beads. He took the bow and arrow resting on the cane table beside his bed. The adrenaline rushing in his veins demanded some adventure and he is already on his feet upbeat to solve this mystery.

                                                          *******************

By divine intervention, Rama did what must be done. He bid farewell to his foster parents, his friends, Gopikas and Radha rani. He addressed the tearful vrindavan saying "Dharma samstapanardham sambhavaami yuge yuge".  God has to take birth in each yuga to reinstate the lost dharma and he, the avatar of Lord Vishnu is bound to his duties.

                                                      

                                                            *******************

Kanah targeted vaali lurking behind a tree like he were an animal rather than an opponent worthy of a duel. "A man who forces a women with his sheer muscle power can be no better than an animal" he explained a crumpled vaali. "Dharma samstapanardham sambhavaami yuge yuge" he added exuding charisma. God has to take birth in each yuga to reinstate the lost dharma and he, the avatar of Lord Vishnu, just did that!

Snoring circus

                                                           

When I was asked what kind of a guy I would like to get married to, I would answer without hesitation, a teetotaller who doesn't snore at all. Imagine sleeping every night in a railway coupe. I agree you have a cosy bed, A/C and duvets but You can hardly sleep in the belly of a rattling rhino. So I prayed god, every night when I am pestered by my dad's snores, to get me married to a snore free hulk.

Dad's snores are like the roars of a lion. I often had these night mares and night terrors of wildest possible imaginations when I was a child. At times I would pinch his nose to stop him snore but he shooooos me away like a baby mosquito. I had to put up with him. Then my mum took to snoring. She snores like the whistle of a constable or rather the whip of a ring master. So all the lions inside my head submitted themselves to the ring masters mercy but the cruel trainer lashes her whip on those caged beasts every now and then.

When I complain in the morning "Mom you are snoring" she would treat me like the prankster which I am and choose to ignore me. "Chi Chi! I never snore. My mother never did. My grandmother never snored. Why will I snore when it is not in my jeans (genes) ?" Awake or asleep, the lion king knows better than to mess with her. He plays dumb and deaf. I tried to follow his pursuit unsuccessfully.

Pissed off, one day or rather one night I captured an AV of her snoring. Though caught in the act she denied that it's a fake video, edited, morphed or something she doesn't know much of. After the phase of denial, came the creeping acceptance. She googled the etiology of snoring before she rushed to her physician.

"It's the thyroid pressing on my windpipe. I am sure"  she wailed. The doc assured her that her goiter (thyroid swelling) is not big enough to compress her trachea.

"It must be the adenoids then. I often catch cold" she complained wiping her leaky nose. The doc explained her that adenoids is a childhood ailment and that she is perfectly alright. "Its your over weight that makes you snore madam. you should diet" he concluded. She avoided him and his advise like a bitter potion and walked back her way.

My tolerance to the snoring circus grew miraculously higher until a new inmate joined the club. A hippo? A rhino? A whale? I am not sure what a beast it is but it sure quaked the earth. I'm jerked awake in an adrenaline drive to run away but I found myself rocking on my cot. It took a while to unclog my head and trace the source of commotion. My mighty brother sleeping in the other room is having a whale of a time, so much so that he set the floor dancing.

I prayed god once again "O god! send my saviour, my surname changer, my licence giver, my home shifter, my visa n passport bearer, the one who can make me cross the turmeric smeared threshold and make me feel the wind beneath my wings. Amen"

God answered my call...but in his own way. I got to fly with my bags packed. I slept in pin drop silence at my new abode. I rolled right. I rolled left. I couldn't sleep. To my utmost surprise I found the pin drop silence annoying. I missed Dad. I realized I'm addicted to his mighty snores. It gave me a secure aura saying "I am there for you my little girl". It was my lullaby. My narcotic. My anaesthetic. My relaxant. My euphoriant. "Oh Dad! I really miss u"

I cuddled up in to a ball like a baby in a womb trying to catchy my forty winks. It is then that I heard this cooing dove snore. I turned around to find my hubby snoring subtly. It is quiet a sight to watch this macho gymster snore like a baby and I loved it. I thanked god and slept with a smile playing on my lips as I enjoyed my new lullaby.

Life is a game - play it.

                                                     

 "what are you doing bro?" I asked my fully grown infant brother. No response. I'm talking to a wall.  My bro is known to get himself lost in the seventh heavens while reading and gaming, so much so that mundane pleasures and pain no more deter him. Just to prove my theory I pinched him for a good measure. No ouch. No AAAH. He jerked his hand silently and his super Mario fell in to the valley of death. ARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Now came the reeling response.

"You know, you are one of those morons who wakes up a person just to ask him what he was doing" he rebuked me. Just to prove his point I laughed like the bad piggies of angry birds and asked "what are you doing bro?"

"Naren said life is a game. Play it. I'm following the verses of this great man. Thats all" he replied.

"Naren? as in Narendra modi?" I asked sceptically.

"As in Narendra Nadh Datta alias Swami Vivekananda" he divulged. I grunted like the Godzilla of temple run pulling the I-pad from his grip and hit the play button. The only way to spend some quality time with my bro is to disturb him in a Dexter and DD fashion.

"why don't you live up to your age?" I asked him as I jumped in my seat along with my Mario on the screen.

"Well! I'M a kid at heart" replied cheekily grinning ear to ear like the Tom with horns and a arrowed tail. I jumped again but my Mario on screen didn't. Game over. I feared my carotids will tear apart with hypertension if I played on a marathon like my bro. And he calls it recreation and relaxation. God only knows how! My bro seized the moment and snatched the I-Pad on a pretext to demonstrate me how to play dextrously without getting hurt. But I guess the stars are all against him for the day. Both of my nephews, a 4yr old and a 2 yr old, popped up from nowhere and snatched the I-Pad.

"I Vaanth tempal run" the 4 yr old said switching the game. I realized he is an expert player. He played as if the I-pad were an appendage sprouted beyond his fingers ever since birth.  Like father like son I thought. But unlike my brother he would even look up from the screen and respond when he was spoken to with an ease of a 'Master of the game'.

"When did he learn to play so well?" I questioned my brother.

"It's in the very blood and genes" My brother replied with pride. "Ever since he was a baby he would get perked up with the windows Logo and its back ground score as I switch on the lappie. He would watch me play with all his attention and before I realized he mastered it".

The segment of my brain where I stored My Nelsons textbook of paediatrics tantalized me. I thought may be its time to rewrite the books.

Milestones of the 20th millennium:

1 month: Coos and turns head in response to sounds like windows logo.

2 months: Follows the path of a flying angry bird up to 90 degrees.

3 months: Follows the path of a flying angry bird up to 180 degrees.

                 smiles and laughs at the bad piggies.

4 months: Plays with A/C remote when placed in hand. Tries to reach out for the I-fone. 

5 months: Holds I-pad with both hands - bidextrous grip.

6 months : Drops I-pad when I fone is offered.

7 months: Transfers I-pad from one hand to other to hold an I-fone with the other

8 months: Sits n watches the laptop for hours

9months: Uses fingers to punch buttons and swipe the touch screen.
1 year: Graduates the gadgets and tutors the parents in case they have any doubts.

Breaking my chain of thoughts my brother persuaded his son to allow him clear the stage where the kid is blocked for eons. The kid smiled saying "The game is not about winning nanna. It's about playing and enjoying". Having said that he switched the game to "Yangry bards". He sent the bird in the reverse direction just to see his 2 yr old little brother roll in laughter along with the pigs.

My nephew taught us 'Geetha' his style. Karm kar. Phal ki apeksha na kar. That day I learnt how to make my super Mario jump without worrying about his death or my defeat.

The empire of the vampire

As i guessed the other day I slept with my eyes wide open in the physiology gallery as professor Babaji relentlessly taught us blood and its components. Anju who sat beside me, drew an excellent portrait of professor Babaji, with his upturned nose, curly hair and poker face.“ummmmmmm good job” I couldn’t stop myself from giving away the compliment.

I looked around and found Aditi & Dips playing book cricket. Much to Dip's credit Irfan patan made a double century.  Table fan did his job ‘BABE WATCH’ with utmost dedication. Bhalu-The bear, occupied more than half of the last bench, cracking jokes which luckily were not audible. Kaushik, a heap of skin and bones, countered  his barrack. It’s as good as watching “Laurel and Hardey”. Rahul is at the best of his craftsman ship making paper rockets. Rambo snored from the last-but-one bench.

The much awaited bell rang quiet melodiously. Everybody sprang to their feet at once, pushing wooden chairs hither tether with screeching noises.  Paper rockets soared the skies as the female fraternity left the gallery, dropping missile like messages "Hey Baby! Lukin sexy today" "How about a movie?" "waiting for you at the boat point @4pm" "kiss me and you will see the stars. Love me and I will give them to you".

I walked unwillingly to the physio lab with heavy feet in a Jack-sparrow-like-gait (courtesy Jonny depp from the pirates of Carrabin sea).

“Post lunch sessions should be banned” Souji cursed yawing lazily. I walked past the second row looking for my number. 19,20. I moved to the next row 21, 22. 

“Ah! Here it is 23, 24” I spotted it. I had to share my microscope with Hrishikesh. The same self obsessed, head strong, arrogent shaitaan who is in best-buddies-of-the-planet vibe with Aditi.  I’m not comfortable with him. Yet I’m not intimidated by him. I couldn’t understand this strange feeling. I’ll do well to remember not to pick a fight with him. After all that would make things between me and Aditi a little awkward.  I hope he doesn’t push me to the limits of my patience. There is a surge of adrenaline and I felt hyper-alert. I felt as if I am walking in to the cage of a wild beast. Easy baby…. Easy I seated myself on the stool numbered 24 pulling it as far away as possible. I’ll not let him pull out one of his tricks on me again. I’ll be careful.

“Hi, I’m Hrishikesh. We met the other day. Remember?” He held out his hand for a shake.

I mumbled “ummm. Hrudi” ignoring his hand without lifting up my head. He yanked his hand back immediately as though I electrocuted him.  However he sat calm and halcyon with a white-paper-face.

The tutor appeared on the lecturer’s podium and ordered us to begin the practical. “Last week we have done estimation of hemoglobin and today I will teach u how to test for blood groups”. He continued “The first person in each pair will prick the second person and make 3 to 4 huge drops of blood on the tile placed in front of you. And then….” He continued his instructions without ever noticing the growing trepidation among the students.

“Isn’t there any chance that I can wriggle out of this crap?”I heard Sowji comment.

“Good gracious” someone cried as Indu had a black out. she is carried away to the girls common room where she could relax.

“Nah……..these girls are really useless. Pea brained. Of what use they are as doctors in this society? All that they are fit for is to marry and beget children. Why do they waste seats for God’s sake?” the tutor who was notorious as a ‘khoon chusing vampire’ complained as he strolled between the rows.

I’m not too happy with his attitude. I have to prove him wrong. I took a firm determination and turned to Hrishikesh. I held out my finger tentatively, trying my best to appear valiant. He pressed the tip of my finger and cleansed it with spirit with a lop sided grin. I felt as though he was mocking me for not shaking hands with him earlier. I’m extremely uncomfortable as he touched me. More uncomfortable than what it had been with Tom-Dick-and-Harry.

How about requesting the tutor to give me a prick instead? He looks experienced                 

Meanwhile Souji too stuck out her finger at the vampires comment but the middle one. “Go to hell” she hissed under her breath and her partner Itihaas tried to give her a painless prick without touching her. The blood didn’t ooze. He apologized and tried another prick. A small but insufficient drop beaded atop of her finger. He wiped the cold sweat on his fore head with his handkerchief and held the needle with trembling hand for the third time. The tutor snatched the needle with one hand, pressed Souji’s finger with the other and gave a prick with a good depth that she bellowed a cry despite her determination not to twitch a muscle. Blood flooded half of the tile. Itihaas pressed some cotton firmly to her pricked finger looking apologetic. She fought back the tears which welled up in eyes much out of the insult, than the pain. The vampire then looked at us hungrily barring his fangs. Hrish spun on the moment and quickly gave me a prick in a blink of a sec. He swiftly made 4 drops on the slide while the vampire walked away slowly as if we denied his meal. I looked down at my finger. It is covered with cotton. There is no sign of blood. There isn’t any pain. Yet there are these huge drops of blood on the tile. I am confused but dared not to voice my doubts. The vampire is still eavesdropping us. Hrish quickly mixed the antiserum A and B on the drops of blood and mixed them with a match stick.  We waited silently for a couple of minutes and read the results.

“B+ve” we cried out in unison holding out our tile to the vampire as if it is a talisman. He nodded approvingly and walked away to pry on the unsuspecting victims.

“But my blood group is O+ ve” I looked enquiringly at hrish and he winked. I never realized how he managed to prick himself instead of me. And most importantly “why?” I smiled charismatically at him for the first time ever since he set his foot in this lab.

“Well that was a really painless prick” I said coyly extending my hand for a shake.

He looked satisfied and left the hall with a devil’s grin ignoring my hand.