The guys brawl!

Trivandrum express raucously halted at Lonavala. It was cold outside. A dozen pretty looking girls entered the coach and clamored around our berth. Raj had inspected the reservation list at Mumbai and notoriously smiling mentioned Anaya Pillai Age 19 Lonavala to Trivandrum.

I wondered which amongst the lot would make us lucky. Usually I find myself in company of noisy elderly people or kids. Travel appeared brighter this time. Meanwhile I graded the girls on their persona …looks…figure…! Raj too was busy in similar mental exercises. “All dogs think the same way” My friend Lax used to say.

The whistle blew! Girls cuddling among themselves till now hurried to the door …except one! I had rated her 12^th. Plum in light blue jeans & loose kurta (long shirt) she was better than the company existing – a - just returned from Gulf –Murali dharan. At Mumbai CST sweating profusely he violently cramped his three XXXL suitcases below the lower births & changed into lungi. Lecherously he ogled the girls. Not all his fault ...after months he got a so close glimpse of women.

The other two keralites occupied in their conversation resembling Laurel & Hardy in black. Even the prattling girls didn’t perturb their tête-à-tête.

I knew it now why Raj won’t change his immaculate suit when I had changed to shorts & slippers. First impression they say goes a long way! Mindful of female presence he sat upright …usually otherwise he behaved normal. The train recovered its speed.

Amidst silence I gazed out of the window in the gloomy night. Except the trains reverberation everything was silent. I turned to Annaya seated left & broke the ice.

“What all are your hobbies, apart from getting bored.” 

She looked puzzled “What did you saaay …?”  She asked getting herself closer.

I repeated! She blaringly replied, “I am not getting bored, I thought someone would take the lead”.

Loosing inhibitions Raj asked her, “what’s yours name?” I replied for her, “Annaya” He himself had informed me.

Undaunted Raj went on, “Where are you coming from?” I interrupted, “Lonavala”

Next query was obvious to me,” Where are you going?”. “Trivandrum” I snooped while the lady stared at me.

Contrary to what I thought Raj was intelligent enough not to ask for age.

I couldn’t reply to the volley of questions thereafter.

She was cheery to talk “What do you do? Where did u study? How’s your job? What are your leisure pursuits? You like making friends??? Each interrogation was followed by a similar query by the lady. Raj almost mimicked the rejoinders.

I listened… Anaya was a sales manager Trivandrum region for Stayfree a new brand of women sanitary pads. She was on her way back from a company meeting and loved singing, jogging, cooking and dogs. Coincidently Raj seemed to love everything she loved.

Eavesdropping Murali with each sentence Aanya spoke got his face closer to her by quarter of an inch. Tobacco stained yellow teeth protruded out of mouth as he intervened, “ayyo  ….malyalee …..  ….malyalee …..ayyo” The girl apparently distorted by the disruption replied, “I am a malyalee but I lived in Bombay”

“ malyalee appou… … serra…ayya” the yellow teeth smidgen saliva with incomprehensible utterance.

She turned to chat but Murali won’t impede ranting. Raj infuriated.

I didn’t care who talked to whom & plugged my walkman earphone. Why bear crap when you can hear music!

Murali kept prattling “… pedu …nain ..unni …snaeh .innu….nidu….” with the lady over the dinner.

“The gulf return has occupied her berth & won’t let her talk” Raj said patting my shoulder while I was drowsing on top birth listening to Pankaj Udhas gazals. “Complain TTE” I mumbled.

“Spare your walkman for her?”Raj almost pleaded.  Aanya glanced with tender eyes. Women eyes are the most manipulative …impetuously I passing on the walkman to Raj & watched her plug the earphones. Pankaj Udhas I hoped would do better to her than the garbling gulf return. I reclined back to sleep.

Drifting to sleep I heard a thud and reluctantly hunched to look. My walkman was tossed on the floor. Raj was quick to indicate the Murali for the misdemeanor.

I blasted,” Everyone on their berth and lights out in five minutes” The gulf return was dumbfound with mouth wide open. Military POC (power of command) had instant effect. Aanya dutifully picked the walkman & returned it.

I was contemplating “…five minute diktat …if not abided??? Calling TTE was an easy option.

A lesson must be taught…one side punch & a hook up would suffice for the stumpy man.  I plotted my move. No straight punch on nose. Boxing training had disciplined me to get aggressive only by design.  I somehow speculated that the diligent lady could handle the guy herself but like a chic let the guys brawl. Light went out. I turned to check.

Murali had retreated to his berth and Aanya lazed on her berth while Raj in middle berth kept an eye on Murali. ‘A wannabe lover transpires as an over protective brother’ I deliberated! 

Half Truths, Lies …& malice!

Prologue

The best thing about Truth is that it’s convincing. Many a times however truth doesn't serve selfish intentions.  Thus Half Truths, Lies …& malice gains currency among covetous people.

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We had recently joined the company. While staying in a hotel one early morning us two roommates went for breakfast in the hotel restaurant.

P Kumar could be described as the triumph of ambition over talent. PK of this world infects every area of the society. To compensate for the lack of natural flair with an unhealthy desperation to reach the top of whatever greasy pole they have chosen to climb, they use gullible ostracized means, however insignificant may be the the matter, the ostentatious habits imbibe their nature.

I reminisced having forgotten some documents in our room. My colleague pretended famished. I decided to get the documents myself.

As soon as I left, the Party Chief arrived at the breakfast table, ‘Did u get the documents P Kumar I gave you yesterday’ he inquired ‘Sir, I have just send Mukesh to fetch it’.  P Kumar subtly replied.

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Epilogue

With pretensions he impressed the old man (PC) of his pseudo leadership crediting on others initiative. 

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Afternote

Presently (Mr.) P.Kumar is the Head Business Relations Manager for the company.

Nothing but Winning

Prologue

Galamaar unofficial naval vocabulary, broadly means ‘one who skips all tasks’. 

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Command athletics meet was round the corner. Lieutenant Manoj Kumar, young sports officer with girly looks walked down to mess. He spoke in soft voice which I soon realized was actually a command.

“Raghav you are participating in the race”. He said to me.

“Am I” I related startling.

“Marathon race”. He was prompt to reply. Element of surprise is the hallmark of any offensive.

“Damn! Its 44 kilometers … … I got an injury owing to leg twist in morning PT (Physical Training)”. I articulated limping on my left leg.

“PTI (PT Instructor) reported u were absent from the Physical training”. He cornered me.

“Uuch! It was yesterdays PT” I uttered.

“You have been bunking whole of this month” He checked on the PT muster roll. “I’ll have to report to EXO” He cornered me further.

“I think I’ll run …but not marathon …anything shorter will be fine”

“Half marathon” he sniggered.

“Lesser still” I solicited.

“Ok! 2000 meter race. That’s final” He said with diligence.

“Be kind, you are the best officer onboard!”I eulogized.

“Okay! You go for 800 meters race”. He settled it by his own consent.

 “800 meters is too long & my leg is really injured” I expostulated grumbled.

“You are taking advantage of my kindness, at least run 400 meters” He said pompously.

“You ought to be the welfare officer, just let the run be shorter…!” I remonstrated.

A word of praise never harms, timing though matters! “200 meters just out of my liberality” He puffed in vanity.

“It’s kind of you…200 meters are lengthy, isn’t it!” I squabbled.

“No race is shorter than 100 meters” He sneered.

 “Last and final call for 100 meters heat race” I heard the announcement as I entered Saurya stadium (Saurya means valor…& I was in mood to depict it). Other participants had warmed up and stood their lane for the run. I strolled in.

‘Bang!’ the pistol signaled the start. I was the last to start. The participants waited for me at the finish while I hopped like a kangaroo in slow motion. Cheering party gave me disgusting to pitiful glances & mocked.

You don’t hurt anybody, still get pinched by their response to your action. I felt bad for loosing without even trying.

“Better luck next time” Rohan, who finished first, cajoled me.

“It’s not luck dude” I said with a stare.

The final run was on the fifth day- Final day of the athletic meet.

I skipped the bus and ran instead. Sweat ran behind the ear. It felt refreshing. My place was 12 kilometers while exhaustion overwhelmed me nearing 6 kilometers. I ran faster to mount the bus halted at the bus stop but as I stepped in something within drew me out. ‘I will run’ I promised myself the second time.

‘Winners are among those who don't stop when they are tired’ it is as true in life as in cross country races. Short runs however need swiftness. Both require strength, stamina and above all will! In a marathon the first 22 Kilometers is out of strength another 11 is stamina and the final 11 is will power. Shorter run entail all instant.

I checked my stop watch - 64 minutes meant low stamina. Leg muscles ached. I knew this pain from the cross country run in school days. The next day would be the most painful thereafter pain would recede in three days with regular muscle activity. Physically we can endure …if we don’t give up mentally.

At 0448 hrs I was the first to enter the stadium. I had left my block at 4. Running long after you are tired leads to secretion of adrenal hormones from the pituitary gland into the blood stream which reach the brain and give a high. The pleasure is like that of a drunken man as alcohol too stimulates adrenal rush.  I had experienced it many times & I experienced it now.

One day before finals we had a trial run. I came close to second but finished third. All were surprised by my performance while I felt disenchanted. ‘Nothing but winning’ was my aim.

I challenged the athletes for 10 rounds of the arena. The only thing repressive about sportsmen is that they apply their will and not wits. They contended with reverence.

We began the run. Rohan & I competed to lead for the first three rounds with others following close behind. I retarded to fourth place in fifth round seventh in sixth and finished the last. Rohan applied all his will to lead but finished third. They were dead tired and contented having beaten me again. “Fools are most serious when it matters the least” looking at them, I thought.

In Saurya stadium the next morning Rohan was almost limping. He got a muscle cramp, the doctor had examined. Sports of all other things are about strategy. Rest of the athletes for 100 meters finals too grumbled from muscle ache. They had run too fast and too fast to tear or tire their leg muscles. Although late, they knew their mistake.

I was happy for Rohan who against all odds participated and stood second. As for me’ Nothing but winning’ was my aim.  

Nachiketa ...The Play!

….During school hostel days, On ‘Teachers Day’ we put up a play ‘Nachiketa’ in honor of our dear teachers. I was to play the title role; a hidden listener of conversation between his parents waiting with a sword for an appropriate moment to kill his father (an old learned sage).

The stage had Nachikatas’ mother laminating over him having run away, unable to bear his father’s harsh treatment and scolding. The sage, on being asked by his wife for his insensitive behavior replies that his rebuked him to restrict him from exhibiting vanity of his intelligence and knowledge. In fact he believed his son was a gifted with immense qualities and he felt very proud of him

Hearing his father’s true feeling Nachiketa (read I) comes out of cover throwing away the sword and himself on the feet of his father begging 4 pardon for his fallacy. My buddy Vibhuti & Lalit played to role of father & mother respectively. 

The happy ending play was supposed to end with the Lalit (mother) offering food (sweets on a large platter) to me (son). Lalit instead of offering me the sweets held it for himself waiting for the curtains to be drawn. I not to miss the sweets also took hold of the platter. Vibhuti not to miss his share too grasped the platter. The curtain pullers (also classmates) seeing the onstage fun won’t pull the curtains while none of us would let go the platter while the audience had a heart full laugh. Finally the curtains were brought together & the curtain pullers too joined in the loot

April Fool!

So guys......did u guys play any pranks or enjoyed being the April 1st Bakra.

Returning by the office bus my dear buddy Anand handed me over his passport & other documents (just returned from a offshore assignment) as I had a seat. He usually late is pessimistic about getting a seat so keeps throwing his weight around.

I quietly passed over the documents to Madhur (somebody told him - Gentlemen keep smiling!)

At our bus stop Madhur got off before me and Anand was the last one to drop out of the bus.

Anand finding me without his soooo important documents was prompt 2 ask me about it. With a forgetful gaze I simply told him that it might have slipped in the bus.......... as if he was struck by a Shock. Next second he was rushing back to the bus lest it moves on …and in a frantic effort looking up & below the seats.

A sudden sense of guilt engulfed me for making such a gentle hearted guy panic.

 The only consolation came 2 both of us when I reminded him that it was April 1st and he out of the muddle smiled back to me.