The one good thing about a bad experience is that you're sure you can handle a lot more in life. Congratulations, you're now officially a stronger person to take on the world and all its unpredictabilities. If you can only take away the bitterness from the experience. And keep your ego aside. If only.
I wonder sometimes if it is worth getting sad over anything at all. Does anything matter in the long run? You get sad, you get over it, you move on. And you're back to square one. Did anything beneficial happen in the interim period of melancholy? Um.. Let me see, your heart was under pressure, you probably were depressing company for your near and dear, got them depressed as well, and gained.. well.. zilch (barring some weight that overeating triggered by your feelings caused.)
But of course, this is far from easy. This kind of an atitude requires some sort of emotional detachment which means one of two things. Either you never get emotionally attached to anything, or you learn to detach on demand. Obviously, the first option is out of question because being human is almost synonymous with having emotions. And if you don't, you're not going to have much of a life anyway! Detach on demand is well, really beyond my scope, but I believe it can be attempted by a lot of ways in combination: looking at the bigger picture, putting the problem in the most optimum perspective, keeping yourself busy, countering it with new ways to make you feel better about life, and in some cases, fighting back with a smile on your face!
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Friday, August 18, 2006
Auto Rickshaw Etiquette
"Bhaiyya, Lingarajpuram?"
Unfortunately, this above line has become part and parcel of my daily life. I cannot go into the depths of misfortune. I could try, but it would barely be conveyed by a few hundred words. Every day after work I attempt to go back home in this very Indian contraption. With very little success.
For the record, auto rickshaw drivers are bound by law to take a person anywhere they wish to without question. Can you hear me sighing, loudly?
Every evening, in my find-a-rickshaw adventure, I wave my hands frantically at every three-wheeled thing I see on the road. Some are occupied by humans, some are occupied by.. um.. things. The rest are vacant. Of these, some don't look at the side of the road for waving hands and drive on looking straight ahead. Talk about focus.
Are they just ignoring me? Is it me? What is wrong with me? Why don't they stop? Sniff..
Of those that do see my airborne hands, some are gracious enough to stop. Oh I must correct myself. He slows down, and in that slow motion he turns his head towards me. That is my cue to quickly spurt out the desired destination.
"Bhaiyya, Lingarajpuram?", I ask in all innocence. More often than not, he barely requires thought for this one. He slowly turns his look back to the road, and drives on without saying a word. Could you atleast grunt out your unwillingness to take me home? Some are audacious enough to raise the gear and move on even faster, but even then, they will not say a word. Not one.
Lets move on to the category that's willing to atleast give Lingarajpuram a thought. I'd like to mention here that Lingarajpuram isn't that far away from civilisation. Its about 7 kms away from MG road. Not near, but not far enough to warrant such reactions. These people slow down, the expressions on their faces get distorted, and that distortion tells me there is hope.
"Hunnred rupees lagega" [..prefixed with a madam in rare cases]
"Won ann haff lagega"
Exact fare = Rs 55
Fare that inevitably shows up on the rigged autos of the city = Rs 65 - 75
Won ann haff = Rs 65 * 1.5 = Rs 97.50
Hunnred rupees = Rs 100
While the clear winner is Mr.Exact Fare, that almost always never happens. Mr.Rigged Fare is the guy who's ready to give you a ride home, only because he also lives in around the same area. Again, someone ready to go by his meter, however rigged, at 8 in the night, is as rare as a snowman in Bangalore. Which leaves us to a choice between Monsieur Won Ann Haff and Mister Hunnred. Tough call.
Well, having made my choice, let me tell you about the next hurdle in the journey, or rather at the end of the journey. The Fight. But of course. (Rigged fare)x1.5 was not exactly what I bargained for, right? So I calculate Exact Fare, multiply one and a half times, and propose to him that I must pay exactly that much.
ME: "Bhaiyya, kya bhaiyya, main har din office se aati hun, itna hi aata hai.. Yeh aapka kaisa meter hai?"
[What is this, I come everyday from office, it comes to only this much. What kind of a meter do you have?"]
HIM: "Nahi madam, kya karein, route lamba padta hai"
[No madam, what can I do, the route is long]
Yeah, the route gets longer by the day.
"Madam, yeh itna door hai, waapas akela jaana padta hai"
[This place is so far, I have to go back all the way without any customers]
Oh, and this justifies your tampering with the meter? Seems like raising the fare to6 7 8.5 rupees a kilometer and charging me one and a half times the amount wasn't enough now was it, dude???
But today. Today was different. Today I walked two kms to the prepaid stand. To be fair I did ask about 50 autos my special question. But then I gave up. Walked till there, where a policeman (bless him) caught hold of an auto and made him take me home.
Result? No multiplications and additions to the meter amount. Fare: Forty one rupees.
I won. Today I won, all ye khakhi-adorned deciders of my fate each night.
Ah, but just as well. In spite of all the intricacies involved, you've
(a) Brought me home safe each night, and
(b) Given me something to write about.
Unfortunately, this above line has become part and parcel of my daily life. I cannot go into the depths of misfortune. I could try, but it would barely be conveyed by a few hundred words. Every day after work I attempt to go back home in this very Indian contraption. With very little success.
For the record, auto rickshaw drivers are bound by law to take a person anywhere they wish to without question. Can you hear me sighing, loudly?
Every evening, in my find-a-rickshaw adventure, I wave my hands frantically at every three-wheeled thing I see on the road. Some are occupied by humans, some are occupied by.. um.. things. The rest are vacant. Of these, some don't look at the side of the road for waving hands and drive on looking straight ahead. Talk about focus.
Are they just ignoring me? Is it me? What is wrong with me? Why don't they stop? Sniff..
Of those that do see my airborne hands, some are gracious enough to stop. Oh I must correct myself. He slows down, and in that slow motion he turns his head towards me. That is my cue to quickly spurt out the desired destination.
"Bhaiyya, Lingarajpuram?", I ask in all innocence. More often than not, he barely requires thought for this one. He slowly turns his look back to the road, and drives on without saying a word. Could you atleast grunt out your unwillingness to take me home? Some are audacious enough to raise the gear and move on even faster, but even then, they will not say a word. Not one.
Lets move on to the category that's willing to atleast give Lingarajpuram a thought. I'd like to mention here that Lingarajpuram isn't that far away from civilisation. Its about 7 kms away from MG road. Not near, but not far enough to warrant such reactions. These people slow down, the expressions on their faces get distorted, and that distortion tells me there is hope.
"Hunnred rupees lagega" [..prefixed with a madam in rare cases]
"Won ann haff lagega"
Exact fare = Rs 55
Fare that inevitably shows up on the rigged autos of the city = Rs 65 - 75
Won ann haff = Rs 65 * 1.5 = Rs 97.50
Hunnred rupees = Rs 100
While the clear winner is Mr.Exact Fare, that almost always never happens. Mr.Rigged Fare is the guy who's ready to give you a ride home, only because he also lives in around the same area. Again, someone ready to go by his meter, however rigged, at 8 in the night, is as rare as a snowman in Bangalore. Which leaves us to a choice between Monsieur Won Ann Haff and Mister Hunnred. Tough call.
Well, having made my choice, let me tell you about the next hurdle in the journey, or rather at the end of the journey. The Fight. But of course. (Rigged fare)x1.5 was not exactly what I bargained for, right? So I calculate Exact Fare, multiply one and a half times, and propose to him that I must pay exactly that much.
ME: "Bhaiyya, kya bhaiyya, main har din office se aati hun, itna hi aata hai.. Yeh aapka kaisa meter hai?"
[What is this, I come everyday from office, it comes to only this much. What kind of a meter do you have?"]
HIM: "Nahi madam, kya karein, route lamba padta hai"
[No madam, what can I do, the route is long]
Yeah, the route gets longer by the day.
"Madam, yeh itna door hai, waapas akela jaana padta hai"
[This place is so far, I have to go back all the way without any customers]
Oh, and this justifies your tampering with the meter? Seems like raising the fare to
But today. Today was different. Today I walked two kms to the prepaid stand. To be fair I did ask about 50 autos my special question. But then I gave up. Walked till there, where a policeman (bless him) caught hold of an auto and made him take me home.
Result? No multiplications and additions to the meter amount. Fare: Forty one rupees.
I won. Today I won, all ye khakhi-adorned deciders of my fate each night.
Ah, but just as well. In spite of all the intricacies involved, you've
(a) Brought me home safe each night, and
(b) Given me something to write about.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Unrequited love
Wikipedia describes unrequited love as the love that is not reciprocated, even though reciprocation is deeply desired. This can lead to feelings such as depression, anxiety, and mood swings such as swift changes between depression and euphoria.
There must hardly be anyone in this world that hasn’t fallen prey to this most innocent yet heartbreaking phenomenon. There are no frills. You fall for someone; they don’t love you back, the same way. There’s no escape. There’s no magic pill. In the rarest of cases, you can try your best to win their love. But even that tiny little ray of hope is blocked out when the object of your love begins to love someone else. The only thing that you can, and must do, is move on. But it is painful.
Someone has even said, ‘True love is the unrequited kind’ - a truly brilliant adage that must go to the Quotable Quotes next month. There is nothing as glorified in the mind as the love you had which was not reciprocated. In the free reign of one’s own thoughts and imagination, the love becomes the one love that did not get its due, the one love that you were meant to have, the one love that would be The One, and that you must now be left to live a life of loneliness, now that you don’t have it.
And there is nothing as amusing as these very same thoughts when you fall in love with another person. Which always happens. Well, almost. That is unless you are deluded enough to believe that there’s no one else in the world that fits the bill. Which you almost always are, immediately after realisation of unreciprocated affection :)
The question now is why. Why does this happen? I’ve always believed there is a reason for everything that happens. Not as in destiny. But more as in what happens now does have a meaningful impact on the future. And therefore one day we will have meaningful answers for the unexplainable that is happening now. Must we all go through this process so we value the love we do find one day? So we treasure what we have, because we know what it is like not to have it? Maybe. But it is painful. Maybe its nature’s way of avoiding potentially disastrous relationships. But that’s really not fair, is it? There’s heartbreak involved anyway! So what should happen? Maybe we should all be born stamped to love one person who is again born stamped to love just you. :) That is indeed utopia. Or maybe not. Nature has its mysterious ways of working out just right in the very end. If you wait till then, that is ;) …
There must hardly be anyone in this world that hasn’t fallen prey to this most innocent yet heartbreaking phenomenon. There are no frills. You fall for someone; they don’t love you back, the same way. There’s no escape. There’s no magic pill. In the rarest of cases, you can try your best to win their love. But even that tiny little ray of hope is blocked out when the object of your love begins to love someone else. The only thing that you can, and must do, is move on. But it is painful.
Someone has even said, ‘True love is the unrequited kind’ - a truly brilliant adage that must go to the Quotable Quotes next month. There is nothing as glorified in the mind as the love you had which was not reciprocated. In the free reign of one’s own thoughts and imagination, the love becomes the one love that did not get its due, the one love that you were meant to have, the one love that would be The One, and that you must now be left to live a life of loneliness, now that you don’t have it.
And there is nothing as amusing as these very same thoughts when you fall in love with another person. Which always happens. Well, almost. That is unless you are deluded enough to believe that there’s no one else in the world that fits the bill. Which you almost always are, immediately after realisation of unreciprocated affection :)
The question now is why. Why does this happen? I’ve always believed there is a reason for everything that happens. Not as in destiny. But more as in what happens now does have a meaningful impact on the future. And therefore one day we will have meaningful answers for the unexplainable that is happening now. Must we all go through this process so we value the love we do find one day? So we treasure what we have, because we know what it is like not to have it? Maybe. But it is painful. Maybe its nature’s way of avoiding potentially disastrous relationships. But that’s really not fair, is it? There’s heartbreak involved anyway! So what should happen? Maybe we should all be born stamped to love one person who is again born stamped to love just you. :) That is indeed utopia. Or maybe not. Nature has its mysterious ways of working out just right in the very end. If you wait till then, that is ;) …
Friday, July 07, 2006
Death - cleaned, commercialised and served hot!
I went to The Corner House the other day, the ice cream parlour that is a temple to many. I looked at the menu on display on the wall.
Death by Chocolate, it said.
What thought did that bring to my mind? Calories? Not being able to finish off the gigantic amount? But death? No. Fair enough.
I order a Chocolate Mousse with ice cream. I'm in the company of friends. Life goes on. And then I get a phone call. Somebody died. Not someone I'm close to, but someone I know, and the son of someone I know a little better. This was the 3rd call of death in a week, 2 of them people I knew reasonably well. Well, life does go on. I polish of the remains of my mousse and get up to leave. Then I see it again.
Death by chocolate.
Is it really alright to forget the real meaning of the word and use it so loosely? People joke about death all the time - from sudden realisation of impending doom ("I am so dead") to a friendly threat ("I'm going to kill you if anything goes wrong"). Death certainly has lost its meaning and gained a 'flavour' if I can say that. Little children are killing each other every five minutes with their toy guns. Video games are a league above. Gory, gruesome deaths are not uncommon.
Maybe it is a good thing. Joking about something helps lighten the burden that it brings. But yet, no matter how loosely you use the word, when death stares you in the face, its meaning becomes painfully clear.
I don't know why I wrote about this. Apologies to anyone if it depressed them. But it was something that lingered in the mind.
Death by Chocolate, it said.
What thought did that bring to my mind? Calories? Not being able to finish off the gigantic amount? But death? No. Fair enough.
I order a Chocolate Mousse with ice cream. I'm in the company of friends. Life goes on. And then I get a phone call. Somebody died. Not someone I'm close to, but someone I know, and the son of someone I know a little better. This was the 3rd call of death in a week, 2 of them people I knew reasonably well. Well, life does go on. I polish of the remains of my mousse and get up to leave. Then I see it again.
Death by chocolate.
Is it really alright to forget the real meaning of the word and use it so loosely? People joke about death all the time - from sudden realisation of impending doom ("I am so dead") to a friendly threat ("I'm going to kill you if anything goes wrong"). Death certainly has lost its meaning and gained a 'flavour' if I can say that. Little children are killing each other every five minutes with their toy guns. Video games are a league above. Gory, gruesome deaths are not uncommon.
Maybe it is a good thing. Joking about something helps lighten the burden that it brings. But yet, no matter how loosely you use the word, when death stares you in the face, its meaning becomes painfully clear.
I don't know why I wrote about this. Apologies to anyone if it depressed them. But it was something that lingered in the mind.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Commuting
For the last four years of my college life, I've had to spend a LOT of time just commuting to and fro, and I've always complained about the long tiring bus journeys. But here's a secret, they were actually a strange sort of time-out. From people, from studying, from work.
I began with actually carrying text books to study so I could make full use of my time. Wow. I've come a long way since then! Then came the music. But i wasn't too keen on, well,
(a) Handling the earphones and the mess involved.
(b) Hiding the discman in my bag so as to keep it away from evil eyes..
(c) ..while at the same time trying to set the perfect track playing.
So, as you can see, it became quite tiresome. Quite contrary to the purpose it was brought in for.
Then i graduated to carrying the fun books - you know, fiction, nonfiction, but fun! But I soon discovered that the rocking motion of any bus induces quick sleep in a person. So i gave in. I, proud bus traveller, slept. And was i Bowled Over! Even a five minute dozing off would make me feel like i've slept like an hour. I would feel refreshed. At times I'd wake up just wondering where i was. Of course there's a whole lot of danger involved here. Let me elaborate.
(I need to change my numbering scheme)
(i) In a bus, there are always theives. You must always be alert. And being asleep is quite the opposite of that condition.
(ii) You can miss your stop, and wake up completely unaware of where you are. To avoid this, you can [1] not sleep, [2] estimate approximate time of arrival and set an alarm, or [3] befriend the conductor, who will then dutifully awaken you from your snooze vacation!
And then, there's the pure joy of simply sitting there and looking out the window. Watching all kinds of people go about their daily work, families, people taking a break, tears on unknown faces, and smiles.. You can never get bored.
As a result, you can see that one could easily favour this form of transport as opposed to driving oneself, if not for the fact that you have absolutely no control over timings. But oh I'll miss it. Or maybe not.
I began with actually carrying text books to study so I could make full use of my time. Wow. I've come a long way since then! Then came the music. But i wasn't too keen on, well,
(a) Handling the earphones and the mess involved.
(b) Hiding the discman in my bag so as to keep it away from evil eyes..
(c) ..while at the same time trying to set the perfect track playing.
So, as you can see, it became quite tiresome. Quite contrary to the purpose it was brought in for.
Then i graduated to carrying the fun books - you know, fiction, nonfiction, but fun! But I soon discovered that the rocking motion of any bus induces quick sleep in a person. So i gave in. I, proud bus traveller, slept. And was i Bowled Over! Even a five minute dozing off would make me feel like i've slept like an hour. I would feel refreshed. At times I'd wake up just wondering where i was. Of course there's a whole lot of danger involved here. Let me elaborate.
(I need to change my numbering scheme)
(i) In a bus, there are always theives. You must always be alert. And being asleep is quite the opposite of that condition.
(ii) You can miss your stop, and wake up completely unaware of where you are. To avoid this, you can [1] not sleep, [2] estimate approximate time of arrival and set an alarm, or [3] befriend the conductor, who will then dutifully awaken you from your snooze vacation!
And then, there's the pure joy of simply sitting there and looking out the window. Watching all kinds of people go about their daily work, families, people taking a break, tears on unknown faces, and smiles.. You can never get bored.
As a result, you can see that one could easily favour this form of transport as opposed to driving oneself, if not for the fact that you have absolutely no control over timings. But oh I'll miss it. Or maybe not.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)