F*ck-Ups Among Other Things

Seeing the drunkard of hadduland traversing the streets of Chennai isn’t something which one would call a rarity, but it isn’t commonplace either. So, when he announced his presence to me over the tele, I was quite glad… Soon, the venue and time of the rendezvous were fixed and with the car at my disposal, long distances daunted me no more.

Having completed a few chores, I called the aforementioned friend and told him that I’d meet him outside the gates of CLRI. And I did, after scouring the streets a little bit. So, with ‘Maine Banaya’ in the shotgun-seat, I decided to drive up to a decent bar – establishments which are as difficult to locate as Dragonballs.

All the same, I located a very respectable sports bar in Thiruvanmiyur and since the day was yet young, we expected no crowds and hence special service. Alas, the only beer he had was a Budweiser 675mL which cost a whopping Rs 290. Allowing logic to prevail, we touched nothing and left the place in peace.

“I’ll take you to another bar, man,” I told him. “Don’t worry, it’ll be much cheaper. But a lot less classy…” He nodded in eager agreement and I began the drive towards the slightly-seedy establishment.

Let me tell you up front that as a driver, I’m neither a zipper nor am I a vroomer. So, I don’t zip and vroom through the roads. Dodging the mean pot-hole might be something I’m yet not a master of, but my weaknesses end there. I am not a frequent driver either, so I’m still wary of the wheel: I’m not overconfident, see?

So how did the man walking alongside the car on my left manage to get his left foot underneath my left wheel? The question will remain unanswered as most important questions are, but the result was obvious. Blood.

One can drive in all the traffic in the world… It’s the pedestrians who fuck everything up. So, an onslaught ensued. While Rathish accompanied the man to the nearest hospital, which was luckily in clear view, I tried negotiating a tough U turn at a T-junction, which elicited questions like – “Dei, otta theriyuma? License irruka?” The incessant barrage of questions ceased only when I waved the RTO’s certificate in their faces!

I ran to the hospital to witness more blood. Then saline solutions, anaesthetics, sutures, analgesics and anti-tetanus injections… And then X-Rays. Well, I didn’t see anything wrong with the X-Ray and I can swear the man’s foot was perfectly fine. But he was in pain and perhaps the doctor wanted to make hay while the sun shined. So, I coughed up the cash.

And as my dazed luck would have it, the people involved would speak nothing but Telugu… So, I watched like a mute, illiterate idiot while Rathish and mom tried to make them see sense. What sense? Well, I don’t know.

In the end though, I’m left with one lingering feeling – that of pity. While I helped provide him with the best possible treatment, I cannot help but wonder what dastardly tricks fate plays on us. Two perfectly innocent beings going their separate ways – when this happens! It’s not my fault, but I’m not going to drive again… Not for a very long time.

P.S. Thank god we didn't touch that beer.

The Call

I can broadly divide my life in R into two segments so far; one - an idyllic life with quaint pleasures and undulations, lackadaisical joys and soft sorrows, and the other – a violent onslaught, a race against everything worth racing against, bitter pain, gushing bile, infinite chaos and ultimate jubilation. While a timeline which I have carelessly doodled over Ms. Gandhi’s face on Hindu’s first page can hardly tell me which month of which year such a transit happened changing my Zion of freewheeling disorderliness to an imploding passageway of incessant chaos, I have a nagging feeling that I know when, what and how. That cognition doesn’t end there, but goes on to tell me that perhaps the halcyon days are back, after that wonderful, wonderful odyssey.

For I feel a lot stronger after taking blows on the chin without getting KO’d, a lot wiser after leading a myriad underlings to the finish line letting them believe that their halfwit overlord knew more than they did, a lot more impervious after acting like a clumsy clod on the line of duty and giving two hoots to the world as a whole and a lot more outgoing by the sheer compulsion of having to talk to every random person I’ve had the fortune of coming across, to some whom I still might and others who I never will, I relished the trip. I’ve been there and back again. And I know for sure that Experience is the greatest mentor.

But even a legendary mentor remains silent about certain intricacies of the trade. It didn’t take too many of my grey-cells to realize that Cognizance 2010 was part of the latter period of the aforementioned classification, not the period in whole but an indispensable part. And most of my job in Cognizance was to sit on an exorbitantly priced, obscenely comfortable and universally pursued black chair and push buttons on the thoroughly scratched Nokia N sincerely hoping that the person on the other end had enough money to spend and wouldn’t be parsimonious about going ‘All In’. In the end, one just fervently prayed that the bloke receiving the ring hadn’t had a row with his wife over the breakfast table. But nothing deterred those calls. And I believed I could talk anyone into anything.

Things have changed. My fabulous superstructure, it seems, was built upon a crumbling, half-wet foundation – and the castle won’t stand. The fact that I could once talk people into letting their money gallivant didn’t help when that phone call was made. All I wanted to do was to walk back to the crease in style for the second innings! Strike, strike, strike!! and I’m out. Thank you!

I’ve never really been a good phone-person from the days I can remember. But this was the height of frustration. When the normal howdy-whadoyoudo’s ended, I found myself hyperventilating. I tried unfastening the collar which I never wore and hopelessly tried freeing my trachea from that pretzel my imagination had deftly inserted. In the end though, logic prevailed in my utterance and I’m sure that the lack of Video communication would have made me sound fine on the other side. Until then. The conversation appeared to be taking a general route through the hackneyed happenings and mis-happenings of the past decade or so, mildly detouring through Nebuchadnezzar and Idi Amin – but ever so ephemerally that it was hardly discernable, when suddenly there was a lull.

A deafening silence which followed was rather unnerving. The worst part was the lack of any effort from the other side to soothe my nerves as I looked despondently for help. ‘Coupling’ came to mind and even ‘Friends – with Monica’s Cousin’ but I remembered none of them well enough to ape my way out. Then I coughed. Then I clung on to the lifeline and discoursed my way out, talking about the changing weather and susceptibility of even the most robust immunity system. My jokes had gone from ineffective to disquieting. I reconciled to the fact that a man like me has no hope. I dragged the conversation on for a few more minutes, but I was huffing and puffing in the end… turning purple by the effort it was taking.

Then, I gave up. I don’t remember how that happened though. The last lines I remember were directed against Alexander Graham Bell.

Root of all Evil...

Cognizance has tried hard. But cannot absorb me completely.

A day after I posed questions like "How many hours can you spend in the Cognizance office", "How do you propose to manage some ten things together" and associated interview-standards, I ask myself the same. January first saw the Winter viruses finally vanquished, as my body cooled to more acceptable temperatures. Ever since, it has been hell.

A month ago, I'd have laughed - had anyone told me I can make myself busy and place that strange 'red dot' against my status. I'm afraid my worst fears have been realized. While thoroughly enjoying the process of 'search-call-extort', I am finally beginning to see the other side of things. Those unending hours of velaness have all been killed in one powerful, crushing blow. No longer do I play PES endlessly. I don't listen to music for the sake of listening to music. I sleep as soon as 'work' gets done. The frequency of my trips up and down Mount Library have more than doubled. Why, I am no the longer omnipresent Green I used to be, on GTalk!

After a long time, I have managed to spend four-hundred rupees on a monthly phone rental at 50p/min, and I'm not too glad about it. While the wonderful warmth of the Cogni - radiator remains one of the few reasons which make me glad to spends nights and days there, the thought of negotiating that cold kilometer more than makes up for it. I still enjoy the task of Sponsorship - which, according to me, is the next best thing to Writing. Nevertheless, I have been severely chastising myself for ignoring my beloved blog for so long. Incidentally, it turns two, today! Happy birthday blog! May you stay healthy and live long.

I've got a phone call to make. Over and out.