THE SILKY CHOCOLATE TINGED DRESS

Smiles all over the face of this little kid as her mother dresses her up. She is 8 years old and looked charming in her shining little frock as her mother combed her hair back and tied a small pony tail. She was going to watch a movie with her elder brother who is getting ready in the adjacent room and their father was taking them out for a movie and followed by a dinner. At least that was the promised part by the little one’s father.

Their father was a small entrepreneur owning a small industry which manufactured t-shirts on a small scale. He would be running around procuring things and managing his labor force. She used to see her father thrice a day for sure, once early morning to drop her to the bus-stop where the school bus would come and pick her up, the next when she returns from school, he would be taking a nap or having lunch, and finally before sleep when he might be just back from work or watching TV series.

The brother who was getting ready in the adjacent room was in high school. A year more and then college. He was 17 years and much elder than the little one. They had their fights and the little kid would get bashed up as she was physically so little as compared to her older brother. He was busy with his high school friends, Soccer team and his life that little did he appreciate her cuteness and her little life which completely revolved around her Dadda, Mamma and her sweet brother.

The family haven’t been for any outings in a long while. The perils of being a so called small business man is that the market scenario would change every week. Their business was not doing that great in the recent times and he was also new into business. So it would take him at least 5 years to reap out something from the current business. That too if he survived in the market that long. Many people come and go in business field, not all make it big.

This explains the little kid’s obvious joy. There was only a one in a dozen chance that she would know anything about a movie, but going out after a long time mattered more than the movie or the food to follow.

After her mother dressed her up, she runs out of her room to see her brother’s progress. The boy was also wearing his favorite English Club soccer jersey which his father had bought him a year back. With the jersey on and his hair properly combed now the wait was for their father to arrive. It was nearing 5:00 pm and the movie started at 6:00 pm in the evening.

The brother switches on the TV and watches soccer. The kid doing back and forth from room to room, looking at her silky chocolate frock and checking how good it is in front of the mirror. Occasionally running back to her mother and running around her. She would dance in front of the mirror and again run back to her brother to check on him. Seeing that he is engrossed in some soccer match, she would go back to her room again.

It’s almost 5:45 pm. The boy is worried. He smells again that this is not going to happen. The little one is ignorant to the fact that there is a time schedule to watch a movie, so she didn’t bother.

At 5:50 pm, the tired father comes home. He drops himself half dead on sofa. As he sits there, the kids enter the room timid and silent. They stood eagerly at the other end of the room waiting for their father to start the conversation. But he never took notice of the kids standing.

Finally the little girl speaks to her father in all her innocence to get ready to go out.

The father surprisingly looks at the kids who are dressed up. The elder one reminds him of the promise he made in the morning.

The father smiles and rather easily brushes aside the thought of going for a movie. He tries to convince the boy that it had been a long, tiring day and he can’t afford to spend another few hours in the theatre and restaurant. The boy tries his luck again just to find his father’s emotions change from smile to grim. He walks away to his room, shrugs off and throws his clothes on his bed and silently thinks in great anger as to why his father had to ruin his day if he didn’t intend to take them out. He had friends playing outside and he quickly gets changed and charges outside to join his spry bunch.

While the father crashes on the sofa for a short nap , the little kid is heart-broken. Yet no tears shed from her eyes. The lady of the house, her mother also feels very bad for the child. She goes inside with the kid, slowly consoles the kid as she removes her silky chocolate tinged dress and gets her back to the normal wears. The kid, very sad has clear expression of the same on her face.

Her mother goes back to the kitchen, to get supper ready for the family for the night.

The little girl on her bed with numerous expressions as she looks on the ceiling. Slowly she falls asleep presumably to experience the movie and the dinner after the movie with her brother and father in her tranced state.

copied from my blog : anooppillaiz.wordpress.com

NOW IS THAT TIME

I am still waiting for the right time. The right time to go out and do as it pleases me, spend all the money as I wish to, visit places that has been in my wish list for decades and buy things that I have been contemplating to buy.

In my school days, I couldn’t help thinking that this is not my time to enjoy. Eagerly awaited college to come. Years passed by, college happened. I couldn’t help thinking ‘Let go college, let me have my earning, let me stand up on my feet and be a man. This ain’t my money.’ Again years passed by, I set myself up for a job. I eagerly await my loans and credits to get over. I am still waiting.

When I look into the mirror all I see is a lot of difference in me. I have grown old and tired.

The wait is going to be indefinite, no doubt. But I’m afraid life is not. Life comes with an invisible expiry date. It’s a limited validity offer. I feel this lifetime is not enough to enjoy everything in life. They why not make the best of it from today?

Whenever I hear an excuse from someone to ‘NOT’ do something that makes him/her happy, I really feel sad. Are they going my way? Will they end up regretting later? Why have they forgotten to LIVE?

If you think now is not the time and if you plan to wait just because your mind is not ready, I am sorry to say that you might probably end up waiting all your life. No one has seen what life has for you tomorrow. Also some things are best done at a particular age. For example it wouldn't be particularly wise to skydive or para-glide at 80.

Now is the time to make friends, time to travel the world, time to help others, time to follow your heart. There will be no better time than now. There will be no better time than the time when you are healthy, wealthy, wise and influential. When you take such a decision to follow your heart, every little thing in life would help you to see you succeed. Take that little risk, try it out and do something that you really want to.

Many define success in their own terms. I have a couple of definitions for success too. One of them would be to have memories which bring smile on your lips and tears in your eyes. The thing that you do today is your memory for tomorrow.

Waiting for the right time to join guitar classes, wondering how to get back in shape, can’t wait to skydive, want to learn how to swim? Please don’t wait. Now is the time. Every journey of 1000 miles starts with a single step. The most difficult thing in that 1000 mile journey can be that first single step. That single step may require you to leave your comfort zone. Let us get up and kick ourselves out of that comfort zone and let’s start today towards where we want us to be tomorrow.

TODAY IS THAT DAY & NOW IS THAT TIME!!!

AAAHHHH!!! Buddy… IT’s TIME TO MOVE ON…

Again a blast from the past.

I have known these three other guys from my school days. That is from the age of 5. We had our share of fights, enjoyments, hanging outs etc. Before the rise of social media, I had parted from the other three and moved far from them. We had no clue of who was up to what but things changed some years back.

I came back to the city again and whenever we could, we would ensure that all four of us meet and share a great time. Sometimes at the beach, sometimes near our school, sometimes some restaurant or some good place nearby and occasionally it would also be some bar.

One of my friends in the group was in a relationship in between. That is the time when our group was reduced to 3 instead of 4. He would rarely or sometimes not meet us. Less messages and sometimes no messages at all for weeks all together. We used to say,’ Chalo gang mein se ek nikal gaya’ (One member has quit our gang). Still we were happy for him, because he was happy.

The relation lasted 6 months and by then, the lass called it quits.

He was suffering from the usual heart break. We would do our part of visiting him and cracking jokes. He used to have a good laugh and again change of expressions. We allowed him to be alone, but making sure that we were with him all the time.

Out of us 3 friends (excluding the break up guy), me and other friend were single and singing jingles. The third one had a pool of girl friends. (You know what I mean…devilish smile).

When we 3 used to meet each other sometimes after work, we would often have this conversation,

My single friend: See, a girl comes into your life and you are no longer going to be the same guy. This is why I enjoy staying single.

Quoting the incident of the other friend’s heartbreak.

Me: True mate! (Sour grapes)

My playboy friend: Not if you have more than one…devilish smile.

DHHHOOOM…DHHAAAMM…

We singles would kick the other guy for making us jealous and he would run around like a headless chicken. Great fun.

Months passed and the heart broken friend started getting normal. He started hanging around with us. Though not the usual fun, but still our group was cool. In our group, out of the two singles I was more emotionally charged. The other one was practical and not even close to emotions. He was more of a tech savvy guy. The guy with a pool of girlfriends was romantically charged. The fourth guy who became single now was a bit emotional and more of intelligent kind.

Now henceforth, the incident revolves around me and the guy who suffered a break up.

I was free one of these days, and I got a text from this guy. He was on leave from office and bored. He asked if we could meet up. The other 2 were busy with some engagements.

I texted him back saying I was ever ready.

Now is the time for some truth.

We planned to meet up at the beach, it was fun to sea water splashing over the rocks and we as a group used to witness the beautiful sunset from this point. I met him there later, in the evening.

Me: How’s you mate?

Him: I’m good. Alone is better. No messages, no problems of hanging around with friends late night, no late night calls ….bla…bla… black sheep……

Already knowing what I indirectly asked.

Me: You were the most intelligent among us. It surprises me that you didn’t know that you would want to go through all these. If you say alone is better, then why waste time, energy and money on something that you never wanted. So this is what you wanted? Freedom, Right?

I am definitely going behind him. Digging up facts and knowing the psychological side of a person has always interested me.

Him: I almost went down the line and got married. Now I always say that it’s better alone and it’s just a fine mask. My world pretty much revolved around that relationship. From morning greets to the night byes.

Me: Bro, What now? How do you feel? You know you can always share and if there is anything that can be done, let’s do that.

Him: In the early days, space looked really void. I desperately tried to get back or at least get someone to fill in the emptiness.

I interrupt him again, ‘So you want to get back again or launch a hunt for a new one …hehe’

Him: No, not exactly.

I am confused. This conversation isn't going anywhere, looks like that. I look at him pathetically.

Today the water splashing on the huge boulders were less. We moved to one of those huge boulders. I sit down on one of them, while he stands on the other and picking up small stones and throwing them into the deep sea. I feel like I am also a part of those culturally and emotionally rich regional movies where the hero takes ages to speak up.

I draw his attention by asking him,’ So? What exactly?’

Him: You won’t understand. As of now it won’t work with any other girl. You ask me why I don’t know why. But one thing I know for sure is that I never ever want to see her again, forget about getting back. I wish she never existed. Don’t want to see her in this life, neither in the next nor the one after that.

He is serious and I don’t dare to crack a joke. Who would want to drown in salt water and have a date with the fate?

I get the answer for my psychological quest. I understand that he is wounded deep inside. 

I just sit there thinking to myself, while my emotionally high friend is still throwing pebbles into the deep sea.

I get up from my place after a while, and tell him,

It’s getting dark and I am starving. We have this new burger place open while you were away. Let’s go and have some burger.

Him: Cool.

Me: This place has a hot waitress and you might want to re-think on your words.

He giggles and ‘You sick Bastard!!!’ 

There is laughs all the way as we keep bitching about life and I whole heartedly pray that he gets well and feels better soon.

A STORY OF BULLET, THUMP's and ME !!! - The Reprise

Please go ahead reading the first part of the incident (mentioned as a separate post below). This is the continuation.

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My Heart Beats THUMP …THUMP…THUMP!!! – Lighten up Holy cow:(


The moment I start driving my style, I reach home without hassles and issues in less than an hour. Again, I never took the Bullet above 70 kmph at any point.

I am home and its been two days. I haven't taken bullet out as I might have taken the other bikes. I don't do any R 'n' D s on the bike, no photo shoots.

TRING ... TRING !!!

Phone rings.

My mother does the honor of picking up the call. It's my uncle and most probably his query would have been about me.

She cries out in happiness, " He is here. Hasn't gone anywhere on the bike in the last days." Happiness oozing out of every word. She is happy to have me near her sight, where I would be rather safe.

I walk out of my house to find the Bullet parked in the parking space. The Bullet stood a legend, challenging me on what I probably boasted the most- My 'gone into drain' riding skills. I let the Bullet win here, put my head straight back down and get back to my laptop.

These happens in the morning, Late in the afternoon I can see my uncle standing on the door steps.

Oh... That's a great surprise. Please don't tell me that he is here to take back the bike. That would be the greatest defeat of my lifetime.

No. He wouldn't do that. I have known him all my life. No...No way!

I greet him,

'How's everything?' He asks.

'The motorbike's fine. Not a single scratch. Just the right foot peg bent a little.' I answer to ensure that he doesn't take away the bike.

'I never asked you about the bike. I could probably pay another 100,000 rupees and get another one.'

Clearly he was more bothered about me. I knew that even before I answered. He was one of the coolest person I have ever known. The reason why I called him when I scratched that car was also this. Being a petrol head, I could only think of the bike first, before me. It's always been like that, and will always be so.

My mother comes into the scene, serves tea. She was happy to see her elder brother. She always had a great amount of affection for him and his family, as she had for me and my younger sister.

While the tea session, he drops an atom bomb. He mentions that those people call him up and they were quoting 8500 rupees to get the door panel done.

Not again... I should have listened to the elders and sat quietly at home (again, what a thought! Occurs whenever I screw up). No one to ask, beg or borrow. Neither would anyone pay up.

Asking dad would have resulted in, me having three Adam's apple. To hell, I am not asking him. Definitely not! It was my mess and I needed to sort it out.

My uncle suggested that, he and my dad have a look at the door panel and I stay back. They go and view the depth and width of the kisses that the Bullet has given. Fair deal. I encourage that thought.

As he was about to leave, he comes close to me, whispers in my ear, 'Ride the god damn bike!' and he smiles. I understand what he meant and I see him leaving.

Next day....


Dup..Dup..Dup.......Again Dup...Dup..Dup..Duuuu.....

I again follow the mantra. The third time, Dup...Dup...Dup...Thump...Thump..

Aww, What a feeling! The Bullet has started thumping again. I go out on a 60 kilometer ride. Not so cool. I was too conscious.

I am not giving up. Period!

I plan to do the country/Village roads. Plenty of deserted village roads nearby. Scenic short drives would be a treat to my eyes and also would make my ride-longing soul happy.

So I start all over again, the loud thumps waking up the lonely, deserted roads and


I ride again....

_________________________________________________________________________




My Heart Beats THUMP …THUMP…THUMP!!! – Finally JOY :)

Days passed, weeks passed. I drove the Bullet along the village roads.

Now the Bullet was no more a legend or a raging bull or something fierce, it was now my best buddy. Someone whom I take along to any place that I go.

It became an extension of my body, pretty much like any ordinary or sports bike. My eyes would dictate and the Bullet would follow the path.

I would take it down to the beautiful, lonely alley nearby or to the evening market in my village, to the challenging city traffic or the long stretch of highways.

Most enjoyable of the rides came when I used to take it to the night to the nearby Cinema halls. May it be the lads with a skinny sports motorbike or a middle aged man with an under powered car, the Bullet would get its due respect. The return was even more thrilling. I would be relaxed, couple of fingers of the right hand doing the job of holding the throttle to keep the bike in motion, the left hand relaxing on my left knees, face shield of my helmet open to let the cold air have a go at my face, couple of buttons of my shirt left open so that air touches my body and forms bubbles in my shirt at the back and I would sit relaxed void of tensions and stresses that the world has to offer. That is the time when I know that, I am living my life.

I have so got adapted to the bullet that my heart starts beating to the tone of bullet's exhaust note. The rhythm that is loud and heavy enough to wake a small kid up sleeping peacefully in the house, scary enough to give a heart attack to a robber trying to sneak in through a locked gate, good enough to wake the lonely sleeping alley, sweet enough to pierce through my ears and reach my heart, melodic enough to set a rhythm good enough for my beating heart.

Yes, My heart has beat-ed to the thumps and I have experienced the pleasure beyond imagination. That was then and my life has moved on.

When I look back, I feel like my heart misses beating to the thumps and I sure miss living my life like a Royal on the ROYAL ENFIELD.

(some parting shots...)

THE END...

Hope you all liked my write up. Thanks for reading. 

A STORY OF BULLET, THUMP's and ME !!!

An incident very close to my heart, I am the hero of this incident and a lot of antagonists (pun intended). Kids below certain age (not sure what age, ask your parents) please refrain from reading till you are matured enough. Hope you enjoy this as I did.

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My Heart Beats THUMP …THUMP…THUMP!!! – The Intro:


This happens sometime back, sometime when I was young both mentally and physically. Living to the spirits and following my heart. I had quit my job which I felt boring. I was with my parents, sleeping, eating, buying all sorts of necessary and unnecessary stuff for the home and partying at Goa at times.

It’s been 6 months and I have almost blasted all possible money in all possible ways which I earned over the past 2 years. I swear I haven’t seen that much money in my bank ever after that till now.

Finally my parents started kicking the fleshy part of my body, they realized that I had only the last 7500 rupees in my bank account and soon would start using up what’s available with them. I started attending interviews, not because I was an obedient son, but I also started feeling the heat of a dried up bank account.

Hurrah!!!! Got a job. To Bahrain. When? A month 'n' a half remain. Oh that’s some serious time.

Now before going any further, I need to mention this. One of my greatest thing (its more than a hobby) in life is riding motorbikes. Learnt to ride at the age of 14. My first fall also comes at the age of 14. Yes I started with a crash. Then 3 years after that I adjusted myself to gearless scooters. A lot of ..ooopss, just missed hitting that car, aawww that was a small fall .. happened in my life during those 3 yrs. Nothing major though. Again in my college days, started off with friends motorbike. Though I haven’t had a chance to own a motorbike, I have driven bikes extensively.

So while I wait for my visa and ticket, an idea occurs. My cousin owns a Royal Enfield Standard 350cc motorbike, shortly known as a Bullet (going to refer it so hereafter).It was his greatest possession. But this time he was away doing his masters degree in Engineering in some cave’s of the Himalayas. He had a younger brother who recently received his driver’s license. So my next plan is to hijack the Bullet and have it for the next 20-25 days..Buhahaha..!!!

Calls up his father, my uncle. I say ‘My Bahrain trip is finalized’...

‘Congrats!’

Need the Bullet for 25 days . He hesitates, but alas he can’t deny me. OK is the answer.

My cousin’s house is 125 kilometers far from my place. Nothing big. I stayed in a village and he, in a city.

NO …you can’t do this, my parents, as if I am going for an underworld operation. They know that they don’t stand a chance to stop me. My father easily gives up, he is not going to listen and I am not going to waste my energy. My mother, no chance, she would try till the end.

So two days from then, I am at their door steps.

‘There is no insurance…!’ his father,

‘I will get one, no worries’. He understands I'm not going back empty handed, and then its three motorbikes, my younger cousin brother riding the bullet, I am the pillion. His dad on his smaller motorbike. We are at the insurance place getting the insurance done.

DONE…The motorbike is insured from today midnight, or tomorrow morning said his younger brother with a happy tone. It’s been a year the owner of the Bullet aka my dumba$ cousin had not insured the bike.

‘Careful Boy! The insurance is not valid for this trip’ My uncle
Ok

I ride back to my place…


________________________________________________________________________________




My Heart Beats THUMP …THUMP…THUMP!!! – The onward journey:

Now it’s important that I need to describe the Bullet. The bullet is no ordinary motorbike. When my younger cousin handed over the keys to me, I didn’t even know how to ride this bike properly.

From the kick starting, to the gear shifts to the clutch release to the throttling this bike is different. All I have done is started this bike couple of times and then driven it for a km or so.

The design of the bike reminds me of my childhood. My parents tell me to do something and I end up doing the opposite of what is told. Likewise the bullet had exactly opposite design as compared to the universally followed system. Gears on the right, brakes on the left. The gear shift pattern also exactly different from the normal ones.

My mantra for starting this bike for any condition was simple. Push the decomp switch on the left hand side. Push the kicker lever to bring the amp meter to zero. Release the switch when the amp meter is at 0 position. Kick it gently and the Bullet roars to life. As simple as that, ahem ahem, or not. The amp meter up of down, forget your right leg or even if the amp meter is in 0, and if the Bullet feels bitchy then again forget your right leg.

So I start my journey, as per the advice of my uncle (my parents have been saying it from age of 14), Go slow. As fast as 50-60 kmph. It was not the normal me driving, but makes sense. New motorbike, new riding styles and needed getting used to. The first 10kms the bike behaved like an unforgiving b*tch. Next 10kms, same sh*t.

This feels unfortunate. Even as a teenager, my first crash came up at a 100kmph. The Bullet cruising steadily with a constant thump and I nodding my head up and down, right and left to keep me away from boredom and sleep.

It’s unsafe to ride a bullet above 60kmph for a extended period as it could cause overheating, then oil leakages etc. Impressive! Isn't it? I could see lads half my age overtaking me on their mountain bikes..Ha Ha Ha

I stop by, its noon, I have driven a lot. 2.5 hrs and I have covered some odd 60 kms or a little more than that. Having lunch from a roadside hotel, I with the intention of resuming my journey try to start the Bull…et....

PHAAT...
What the hell was that ?

Oh I see my kicker lever hanging towards the ground, like a compass needle showing north. Am I scared?

No ..Not at all. I know it’s the kicker spring failing. Cost of the spring 30rupees. Labour 70 rupees.Buhahaha…That leaves me with 7400rupees. I couldn’t care less.

I take it to the next garage, “ No spares saarr!!!”

Wokay.

I am doing it at my place. I get a tie wire from the garage, kick start the bike and tie the compass needle to the frame. Kicker back in position and I leave. Again hitting the high speeds of 60 kmph.

I ride back to my place again…



_______________________________________________________________



My Heart Beats THUMP …THUMP…THUMP!!! – The fall and rise:

I now feel that I have got a good hang of the bullet. Feels like I have tamed the beast, mastered the art of riding the bullet. Yeyeyey!!! Feels like I’m on top of the world. I feel the slight breeze on my hands, I see trees passing by and my mind is free of all the worldly tensions. Far I see a small road joining the main road. No vehicles as of now.

I am towards the left of the road, leaving enough gap for the cyclists/ pedestrians. I am supposed to carry on straight for at least 40 kms.

When I was approximately 50mtrs away from the intersection, I see a car, a small hatch back ( Suzuki Alto ) coming. I don’t care, I ride a Bullet.

In the ideal world, that car is supposed to stop and let the vehicle travelling on the main road pass by.

I still hang on the throttle. As I reach as close as 15-10mtrs, the driver decides that this world is far from ideal, it’s not perfect, screw the rules, I am not waiting for anyone.

He is on the main road.

Holy Mother of Gods! I am too close and my legs don’t react as its not sure which is the brake ( I usually keep telling in my mind that left is the brake, but not when needed. Stupid me.). Screw the brakes, I tackle right to avoid hitting and I succeed.


SCREEEEEECCHHH…KREEENNNN…


'Oh..What the hell just happened!'

I am still on the bike and the bike is still moving. My motorbike swayed right and left for a second or two, I could see a blue car passing close by me. Very Very close. I had no chance to apply brakes and stop the Bullet behind the car that wrongly entered. Bullet’s a heavy thing and brakes suck big time.

My bike has hit the blue car which swayed my bike and developed a dent and a scratch on…obviously the car. The Bullet still like a raging bull, questioning me, “ Did someone try to mess with me?” And I was like, “ The owner’s definitely gonna mess with me!”

The insurance not valid thing runs in my mind. I am so screwed. I am screwed big time. I should have listened to the elders (what a though). Why not run away from here?? But brains take over emotions quickly. I stay back, to face whatever it is.

The owner comes and furiously says, “Come on, let’s go to the cops, register a case. I know the deputy there”. He was in his mid 30s, he had his wife taking pics of my bike all over. Bullet must have felt like its walking the red carpet. His Mother in law faintly telling, these bikers are a pain in the hole.

No I chose not to reply to that. No chance.

I am so screwed. If I go to the cops, I could be in jail or minimum of a case would be registered against me. I had to fly abroad in a month. The biggest concern is, all these won’t stop in 7400 rupees. Thoughts drained me. The other car guy was long time gone or else I could have made him pay for his mistake. Now it’s just me, the bike and the mess we created.

I am not taking this anymore. I am calling for help.

I call up my uncle again. “ ello….You reached safely?”

“I crashed!!!”


What the ….?

I scratched somebody’s car. But the bike is safe, not a single scratch on it.

He was fuming. I could feel the heat. He said he would call me back soon and hangs up.

I’m depressed. I know now there is no chance. I follow that guy to the police station. As I turn my bike to enter the Police station, I get a call back.

It’s my uncle and he asks me to enter into an unofficial settlement. Since I was in no position to talk sane, I give away the phone to that guy. They speak to each other, I am not bothered, whatever…

The owner of the car hangs up the phone and hands it to me back. You may go, I will send my bank details and Account number, and you can pay me after I get the quote from the showroom.

I nod, put my mobile phone back in place and leave. I run back to the bike, remove the tie wire and start the bike. The bike, as cool as ever, starts with a thump as if it's questioning me, “No more rest? Are we leaving?”

I ride back to my place again…

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My Heart Beats THUMP …THUMP…THUMP!!! – Something went wrong:


I take the bike to the next garage. I needed to fix the kicker lever. I am sure that the motorbike would undergo an inspection at my place. I buy him the kicker spring and in an hour I am off again.

15 kilometers ahead, I keep going and when I go a bit right again, a blue car just couple of centimeters away pass me from my right. Thank my stars. I stop the bike towards the side. Sit on the pavement for couple of minute. I could see the headlight of the Bullet towards me, ‘You can’t son! You can’t!’, such was the look.

I seriously think what went wrong. Never has this happened to me in all these years. I tried analyzing.

All I could think of was I was driving slowly and sedate, not much in my style. Indian roads demanded Might. Eureka!!!! There I am with a solution.

I wait for 10 minutes for the bike to cool down. I kick start the bike again with a new vibe.

“Who’s the daddy now?” Buahahaha...

I ride back to my place again…






(to be contd.)

A TRIBUTE

I rarely used to read newspaper or my textbooks, but I loved reading stories. Short or long never mattered. One such interesting narration goes like this:

Once there were 10 kids playing on railway tracks. Imagine each and every one knew what they were doing. Nine of them playing on live track and there was this one kid who was playing on the dummy track to the extreme. Suddenly a train comes (just imagine it comes), and it is impossible to stop the train as it has reached very near. As a railway authority or a guard what would you do? From a normal perspective, any person would say that I would route the trains track to the dummy one and sacrifice that single life to save the other nine lives. Fair enough! But what wrong did that kid do? The kid knew that it’s unsafe to play on live track and hence it was using the dummy track. While the other nine kids, even after having the knowledge used the live track. Doesn’t that one kid deserve to live?

( I am recollecting it from my faint memory so wordings may differ)

Great piece of thought put in by the author.

 This is in reference to the recent happenings in my home country, India. The image of Indian men has taken a beating. Parents have long started advising their daughter to not even look at strangers, leave talking. The condition is so bad that we (men)have lost it and the entire globe knows about it. The happenings, government taking actions and other blah’s are altogether a different ball game. Let’s not go into that.

My intentions are simple.

 I intend to pay tribute to the selfless and good men out there. They might not account more than 10-15% of the entire male population. They include people who work hard to feed their family, who show courage to protect the women and stand up against the bad, those who take care of their family needs, those who save majority of their earnings for the good of human beings. They are the people who define MEN. Imagine those men, who clean the glasses of Burj Khalifa or Burj Al Arab (world’s tallest building). I doubt whether they take this risk only for them or also for their families behind.

 Whenever I see women complaining that, they can’t find any good men around (or vice versa), I always think to myself that these women will never be able to find such men. These minority group of good men may not carry i-phone, branded shoes or costly cars. And seldom does a woman notice a man without fancy stuff. Again I’m leaving that topic for future discussions.

 I would like to pay my tribute to all such people. People, who work outside, run around to make some money, who stay away extended years from their families to earn and feed, those who respect other beings. Such people though less in quantity, needs to be respected. I’m going to end this with another real life incident which happened to my friend.

My friend was once invited in a party and he had a group of friends along. The party went on till late night. The number of people started reducing. He noticed that one of his colleague (female) got really high and was in no position  to drive her car back home. He not only helped her reach home, but also made sure that someone responsible from her family had taken note of the situation. As he narrated this incident, I had already congratulated him from my heart for a great deed. 

 Great work brother. But I am sorry because probably you will be one of those children who will be killed while playing on a dummy track, in order to save the other plenty lives playing on live track.

REACHING THE HORIZON

“Uff…I m so tired!!! Need a break. I am exhausted…” As I murmur these words to myself, I know that I cannot afford to take a break which I really need.  Well, I wish I could at least say to myself “Just go and get some sleep buddy. You are gonna be just fine”. I am afraid that this tiredness is more mental than physical.

            My shoulders are stooping due to the burden of Loan EMI’s, Paybacks, rents, various bills that I have accumulated. Life has started revolving around one mean non-living thing which dictates. It has the power to break or make relations, make us God and much more. “MONEY – The more you have it, the better “

            I have lost a fair share of my youth running behind money, doing something just for sake of getting paid. I don’t know till when I am going to continue with this ‘crime towards myself’.  Many would ask me it’s not even a decade you have started working or neither have you any third world problems like “I cannot buy food because I have no money. Then why should you be tired?” I still can’t figure out an answer to these questions. But all I know is I am exhausted running this race. The competition is with my family, my known ones, the society and finally me. The factors like my ‘Parents expectations’,   ‘Run for social status to get a fair treatment among them’ and finally some expectations that I have of myself. 
             One thing that this rectangular piece of paper has achieved throughout these years is that it can buy you almost everything. Few things that stand excluded from this list for me shall be some experiences like meeting a good pal after two decades or going back to the school after a long time with our school mates. Apart from some simple joys, Money can buy almost everything in life, may it be a super car or a super model girlfriend (or vice-versa). As an icing on the cake, it can keep you away from troubles like cops, law and whatever. Isn't that enough for people like you and me to give their lives for this piece of paper?   

            Life without money would have been much complicated I guess. People of same financial status, major barrier removed between people and as a matter of fact between countries. Life would have been easier. But in defense, I could say that everyone would have been lazy and doing nothing big. I need to respect the fact that the world is in this form because of the race for money. We have forgotten to respect our feelings, learnt to kill our emotions, learnt to give excuses to our families and near-ones, differentiate people based on their financial capability to achieve great excellence in technology, build a newer and never before world which looks near perfect, inventions and discoveries that challenge the Lord himself. I am still unsure whether to praise all these achievements or hurl abuses at them.

            As a normal being, my needs and wants are also endless. They never seem to meet satisfaction. I have a weird feeling that these two are like day and night, they are not meant to meet each other. The more the money I earn, the more are my wants. In short, I can see the horizon called satisfaction from the shore I am standing. What separates me from the horizon is a distant water body which consists of never ending needs, wants, expectations etc. The day I reach the destination horizon is the day I give rest to my tired body, mind and soul. But personally I know no one who has reached this destination.

            While I compile this, I remember that I need to get some sleep before I rejoin work tomorrow. As long as the roar of V8 and V12 engines excites me, the mere sight of Super bikes raise my heartbeats and makes my knees tremble and go weak and travel bug that keeps biting me often, I am sure I will carry on cheating myself but just with a wholehearted prayer that My Lord will soon reach me to my HORIZON.

credits and courtesy to : Anonymous