Saturday, January 4, 2014

My Thunderbird Stud


I hitchhike expectantly on the highway, backpack on my shoulder
Ecstatic with the escapades that lay to the fore
A splendid black beast bolting in the gusting wind screeched to a halt
As the dust of the road spewed in the air clears, I see ‘thunderbird’ engraved on its throttle

Stubble look, tall and muscular, broad shoulders, masculine cologne
Denim ragged trousers, black jacket, leather gloves, and motorcycle boots
Masked in the helmet, I couldn't see if you had kind eyes
But a kindred spirit you are, helping a stranger on a deserted road

As we ride, the vistas transmuting in a jiffy, we leave behind trees and hills
Flying like eagles with momentum, hair swaying rhythmically in the wild wind
You take sharp curves, like a roller coaster, shift gears, all movements synchronized
My heart races with awe as I see you skillfully taming the feral beast

We ride in comfortable silence, not the awkward silence, mind you
in not feeling the need to fill the gaps between conversations
I let the majestic roar from the bike rumble in the backdrop
For I know the thunder of the engine is  pure music to your ears

The humps on the road are merely an excuse to hold you tight
Besotted I am, my heart feels warm, and a rosy glow adorns my cheeks
I catch you stealing glances into my eyes pretending to adjust the mirror
And hope in the heart of my hearts that you’ve also fallen for your pillion rider

A penny for deciphering your thoughts my mystery man! But alas the helmet!
Are you feeling your heart go squishy like I feel? I wonder
I will rather like the mystery hang unresolved in the air, fearing your answer
For I know you’re a true biker, the beast is your only love, and you belong to no one

I know not where you came from, I know not where you’ll head to
When my destination arises, please don’t ask me to get down
For you and the thunderbird have swayed me off my feet
And I will remember forever this ride with you, my thunderbird stud

I do not know if it is you, or the dark metal horse, or your heady cologne
But I’ve never felt so alive and thrilled with the adrenaline gushing in
Maybe for a short time, but with you I have sprouted new wings
When my destination arises, please don’t ask me to get down




Sunday, November 4, 2012

My dad's memoirs- Episode 3





(Chronicles of my dad in his own words down the memory lane)

Today whatever I’ve achieved, I owe it to my father. In the SSC examination I secured 80%, standing first in the school and third in the university. I wanted to join Maths group in Intermediate course and ultimately become an engineer.

During those days unemployment was rampant among engineers. Postal department was directly recruiting  those students as clerks who secured good marks in the SSC exam. There were no interviews and appointment letters would be issued based on marks. My father’s friends and well-wishers told him that my good marks would surely fetch a job in postal department as a clerk. They also added that later I could get promotions by appearing for the departmental exams. My father was a school teacher and got a humble salary. He was finding it hard to make both ends meet. My joining as a clerk and earning money would have augmented his income. But he didn't heed to their advice and encouraged me to pursue intermediate course. After completion of intermediate course, again the same predicament was faced. I could join LIC based on intermediate marks and get decent salary. But, he saw to that my aspirations were fulfilled. Today if I’ve achieved additional secretary rank in Government of India service it is all because of his determination to make me an engineer. 

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

My clever sister and unsuspecting dad





My sister had maths exam the next day and wanted dad to come early so he could tutor her for the exam.

My dad was busy in an office meeting.

She called him from her cell phone.
No answer.

From mine and mother’s cell phone.
No answer.

From the land line.
No answer.

 She went to my grandma’s room. She stealthily picked up her phone while she was reading a religious book and called my dad.

Seeing my grandma’s number on cell phone my dad picked it up at the first ring and said anxiously, “Yes amma?” She knew my dad would yield only to gandma.

My sister imitated my grandma’s voice and said,” Come fast son! I can't find my diabetes tablets.”

My father sensing mischief laughed heartily in the middle of the meeting. He concluded it early and arrived home.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

My dad's memoirs- Episode 2



 (Chronicles of my dad down the memory lane in his own words)



I remember this incident during our stay at Ghaziabad. I was evaluating answer papers of the departmental competitive exam.

A burly Haryanvi man who took the exam tried to offer me a fat bribe to give him good marks in the exam. He was very influential and gained information from birdies of the whereabouts of all the five answer papers which were sent to be evaluated all over the country. He went to all those places, offered bribes to the evaluators and persuaded them to give him good marks. His fifth paper was sent to be evaluated at Ghaziabad, to me. He called me constantly for two days on the phone and started harassing me. I thought I would give him grace marks if he wrote something but his paper was blank. I had to fail him. He invited himself to my home. He saw two-year-old Aparna playfully running about here-and-there. He threatened me saying, “You seem to have a small happy family today. Just take care that it might not be the same tomorrow.” He was a hefty man and in no way I would have matched his strength. He threatened me saying that he would carry me and push me off the terrace. My wife got scared listening to his ultimatum. She called her brothers and everyone in the family panicked. I avoided venturing out alone on my scooter and stayed put safely inside home. He would hover under the apartment, pacing angrily and watching out for my posting of the evaluated papers.  I managed to parcel and send away the bundle of evaluated papers secretly and safely.

I even considered contacting the police. After a couple of days all our neighbours came to know about the problem. They had a nice chat with him saying that I am a man of scruples and would never fall for a bribe.  They told him to ‘fix’ some corruptible higher authority in the examination cell so that they would change his result and that there is no use trying to ‘grease my palms’ as I would not be so easily bent on principles. They told him that I am a hard working, innocent and an honest man and it would do him no good by threatening me except wasting his time. He came to know that I already parceled the papers. He finally saw to that his physical strength is nothing in front of my honesty and left us alone.

Friday, October 12, 2012

World's best dahi puri!


I used to love Dahi puri at Kadamba restaurant, Basaveshwarnagar (B’lore). Four times a week, I would go there after college and relish on this chat. I would closely watch the chatwala while he prepared this chat. The hygiene standards of Kadamba are good unlike at the road-side vendor’s.  He uses larger than mouth sized gol-gappas and I love the challenge of gorging on them without spilling the masala pani. The stuffing is made of moong dal sprouts, mashed potatoes and thick curd. The curd they use here is not sweet unlike the ones I tried elsewhere. It is spicy, sour and tangy. Then he garnishes with sev, coriander, beetroot and carrot shavings.


I know all the ingredients which goes inside this and tried to replicate a few times. But it could not match the taste of his dahi puris. May be he uses a secret ingredient. You know, kind of just like blood. We know all the components making up this essence of life, but no scientist could create it artificially. Clever analogy, isn't it?

After spending a month in my hometown during summer holidays, I eagerly went to Kadamba the earliest after coming to Bangalore. The dahi puri I had this time didn’t taste at all like the one before. The curd was sweet. As told by the waiters there, I learnt that my favourite chatwala went back to his village and would never return. My search for the perfect dahi puri continued but I was disappointed everytime. 

The center of an entrance exam was at VV puram, which is far from the place I live. On the morning of the exam, I seriously considered skipping it.  But then, I went and attempted it anyway. After the exam, I went to Dosa mane nearby, which is famous for 100 varieties of dosas. The masala dosa was not as good as  expected. I saw a man in the chat counter and I did a double-take. It was my favourite chatwala! I was thrilled at my discovery. He was happy to know that I missed his dahi-puris. We chatted for a while and he told me that he came to Dosa mane as the pay was better and it was closer to his home.  I gorged on till my stomach ached! I thought I could never eat the dahi puris made by my favourite chatwala again. If not for the exam (which went really bad) I would never have come to VV puram. I was happy to be united with the world’s best dahi-puri! And I know where exactly to head to for evening snacks!
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