1010101010...the binaries zip up all that is tapped on the keys! And actually that come from some part of the repository in our brain. The tiny notepad metamorphosed in to a word pad which in turn became the e-mail and now the blog!
The human ass is blessed for it now no longer moves. Or maybe it's nice the way it is. And boy oh boy, i never mentioned the latest entrant in the circuit: the cool dude - SMS! Aha, there he is! There isn't any pessimism when I say all this. I use most of them, infact all of them and with gusto. But nevertheless its happening! And how.
The airwaves have emerged triumphant and the cell sites outnumber the frequency spectrum. So you might be a celebrity in your inbox, you are still guessing who lives just two apartments away! The postman is no longer awaited with bated breath and the telegram no longer asks for anxious moments.
Of changes and all, this renaissance is not that bad too. It might have sped up things, hastened a few emotions, upturned a few moments, pulled out the sweetness of the lover in waiting, made a mother in the down country realise that her son is safe near the barbed wires, a few hours sooner but and a big but of all things it has made life easy if not comfy.
So until the human race is overtaken by something as revolutionary as say may be telepathic communication, thumbs up to the current scheme of things. Let the Digital Diaries clog the mammoth of world servers. Let the Digital Diaries refresh the human memories for eternities to come.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Melancholy Boulevard
Spread over 2500 square feet of mellow ultra modern penthouse ambience on the seventh and eighth floor of Isle Heights adjoining the sea face is where the Shenoys stay. The wheatish-golden rays of the sun filter through the Paithani drapes adoring the windows in their bedroom. The light filtering through the magenta of the curtains fills the room with a hue of sorts and it could happen only when Nature plays artist. The alarm begins to sound and Krith fidgets and finally manages to put in to its silence. Kaavya looks a lot more beautiful, the pale innocence does not leave her face even as she sleeps; and Krith is even luckier to have a partner as her. It was during their formative years, did Krith and Kaavya find that they had become the inseparable of friends. Marriage happened and Kaavya became a part of the Shenoy family.
Krith is the creative director in one of the largest advertising agencies of South Mumbai, The CultureBind Company. Interestingly, Kaavya is the lead visualiser in the creative department.
It has been a great week at CultureBind which has been pitching for a big account and actually won the pitch. Going by CultureBind’s legacy, the event would be celebrated. The notice goes up and it is party time. Dance, booze and great food. All this, at the most happening place in the town.
Krith prefers to stay at home due a head splitting headache. He presses Kaavya to go ahead. Kaavya dons on her best party gear and drives off to the scene. Krith is conspicuous by his absence. But the party has to go on.
Denzil asks Kaavya to drop him at his place. Denzil has been working as a copy supervisor with CultureBind. Known for his inane ways, he was always a ‘lady’s man’. Known as the stud, he was a charmer.
Kaavya obliges. He invites her to his apartment over a cup of coffee and she reluctantly agrees. Denzil plays one of the instrumentals of Kenny G. Soft music and coffee together are known as the best aphrodisiacs; and I have a feeling that this story should have an untimely twist.
Coffee and some conversation revolving around the party and this is a great situation to have a twist. The conversation seems to gradually lessening to a whisper and except for the music, I can hear nothing. This is something so tender to be out of human comprehension. Denzil suddenly moves over to her and softly kisses her and she reciprocates. Seduction wins again in this unfair game of love. They end up making love.
Caught in a thin line between guilt and incidence, Kaavya just wants to term the episode as passé. She shops for the pill and everything is forgotten.
Not many months after, things aren’t the same when one day he chances upon to accidentally eavesdrop Kaavya calling Denzil over her cell phone asking Denzil to forget the whole episode. There’s a sharp negative when Krith confronts her. The whole situation is very unfamiliar for Krith. Kaavya was never like this before.
There is a realm of uneasy flavour floating around and Kaavya seems to be confused about her life. She still loves Krith and that fling with Denzil happened in a flash. And Krith knows something is amiss. Kaavya is not his same old Kaavya anymore. He can see her turn in to an inexplicable uneasy qualm every time there’s a call from Denzil or for that matter every time there is the slightest mention of his name. But I know, the character Kaavya, that I created shall die rather than spill out the beans.
And true to this date, she is worth her tag. Krith does not know the missing link. He has tried talking to Denzil but help did not arrive in any form. Denzil would never say to him that he actually slept with Kaavya. And as of Kaavya, she is silent as ever.
She still walks the Melancholy Boulevard.
Krith is the creative director in one of the largest advertising agencies of South Mumbai, The CultureBind Company. Interestingly, Kaavya is the lead visualiser in the creative department.
It has been a great week at CultureBind which has been pitching for a big account and actually won the pitch. Going by CultureBind’s legacy, the event would be celebrated. The notice goes up and it is party time. Dance, booze and great food. All this, at the most happening place in the town.
Krith prefers to stay at home due a head splitting headache. He presses Kaavya to go ahead. Kaavya dons on her best party gear and drives off to the scene. Krith is conspicuous by his absence. But the party has to go on.
Denzil asks Kaavya to drop him at his place. Denzil has been working as a copy supervisor with CultureBind. Known for his inane ways, he was always a ‘lady’s man’. Known as the stud, he was a charmer.
Kaavya obliges. He invites her to his apartment over a cup of coffee and she reluctantly agrees. Denzil plays one of the instrumentals of Kenny G. Soft music and coffee together are known as the best aphrodisiacs; and I have a feeling that this story should have an untimely twist.
Coffee and some conversation revolving around the party and this is a great situation to have a twist. The conversation seems to gradually lessening to a whisper and except for the music, I can hear nothing. This is something so tender to be out of human comprehension. Denzil suddenly moves over to her and softly kisses her and she reciprocates. Seduction wins again in this unfair game of love. They end up making love.
Caught in a thin line between guilt and incidence, Kaavya just wants to term the episode as passé. She shops for the pill and everything is forgotten.
Not many months after, things aren’t the same when one day he chances upon to accidentally eavesdrop Kaavya calling Denzil over her cell phone asking Denzil to forget the whole episode. There’s a sharp negative when Krith confronts her. The whole situation is very unfamiliar for Krith. Kaavya was never like this before.
There is a realm of uneasy flavour floating around and Kaavya seems to be confused about her life. She still loves Krith and that fling with Denzil happened in a flash. And Krith knows something is amiss. Kaavya is not his same old Kaavya anymore. He can see her turn in to an inexplicable uneasy qualm every time there’s a call from Denzil or for that matter every time there is the slightest mention of his name. But I know, the character Kaavya, that I created shall die rather than spill out the beans.
And true to this date, she is worth her tag. Krith does not know the missing link. He has tried talking to Denzil but help did not arrive in any form. Denzil would never say to him that he actually slept with Kaavya. And as of Kaavya, she is silent as ever.
She still walks the Melancholy Boulevard.
Friday, March 26, 2004
Ekdum filmy, total masala - Bollywood ishtyle! ;-D
The Story
Vikram is to be stationed for his new job, in a virtually unknown place that is alien to him. Obviously for anyone who knows nothing more than Ajnala or the bigger Amritsar, Kozhikode would only mean a tongue twister.
‘Where is Kozhikode?’ Vikram asked, attempting hard to get the pronunciation right. ‘This place is in Assam’, replied Jagmeet paaji, the ‘Mr. Know-it-all’ at New Punjab Roadlines. Only he knows how right or wrong he is. Prod him more and he will probably give you the latitudes and longitudes of Kozhikode!
Vikram prefers to investigate himself. Mundu, the attendant with the Mehras for years cannot help him better. ‘Vikram – has already left for Assam… new job’, he tells everyone at home. Down comes the world for Parminder, Vikram’s mother. ‘You are responsible’ she yells looking towards OP Mehra, Vikram’s father. OP Mehra always wanted him to be the next boss of New Punjab Roadlines. Vikram’s choice of an engineering degree or job after that did not go well with him.
Everything falls silent when Vikram calmly walks in. ‘I had only been to find out about Kozhikode, - to the headmaster’s house.’ Mundu swallows hard. All the eyes in the room stare him, but he saves himself with his trademark grin. As an effort to manage a truce, OP Mehra allows Vikram to go. ‘But Mundu will also go’ he adds. Mrs. Mehra agrees.
‘Papaji, you cannot be serious’, thinks Vikram. But Mundu is happy.
‘Platform 5, S5, berth numbers 5 and 6’, Vikram whispers to Mundu as he gets off his truck. It is very hard for Vikram to keep Mundu away but a wrong coach number and a wrong platform number easily does the job! Vikram is relieved.
On the train, Vikram browses through a literature copy by Kerala Tourism Board. And all of a sudden pantry men sporting a dash of sandal on their forehead with their waysti folded up to their knees serve idli and sambar, his co-passengers have their meal on a banana leaf and some pour their coffee from a height out of a tumbler in to another and all he can hear is the sound of the mridhungam playing hard. ‘No’, Vikram lets out a huge cry. And everything returns to normal.
Kozhikode is a ‘jack-in-the-box’ for Vikram. The company driver does not turn up at the station and the rickshaw drivers swarm Vikram like bees. He does not understand what they say. Neither could they when he tries. The local phone is out of order. The railway police take his baggage after it lay unclaimed. The rains drench him and the lorry driver sloshes him with Kozhikode muck.
‘Bail out of Kozhikode as soon as possible!’ Vikram mutters.
Vikram is put up at Mrs. Batra’s residence. This Punjabi lady could yak on for hours as if it were a talkathon. She would even brave the stench from his socks to complete her story. Vikram couldn’t endure. Nor his own socks, neither her talks!
Vikram pushes for a transfer and how good it would be to forward your transfer application to your boss on your first ever meeting with a unique gift – a tender coconut neatly wrapped in a transparent polythene carry bag. At least Radha, his boss’ daughter is amused, if not impressed. She smiles, ‘So cute’ and winks at her mother. Vikram chuckles ‘It’s working!’
Ravi is also put up with Vikram at Batra’s place. It always feels great to have someone like Ravi as a friend, if not your roomie. Talk to him and struggle to match his one-liners. He is simply straightforward and so frank that you would never want to play chicken with him. Play some heavy metal and he will treat you to a Scotch. Gradually, Ravi and Vikram hit off well with each other and soon Vikram becomes Vicky, courtesy Ravi.
During their booze parties, whenever Vicky is on his special Punj high and picks up a fight with the locals, it is always Ravi who plays the referee. During once such post booze session, Vicky in his usual high, scales a coconut tree almost up to half its height. And when he realizes the vertigo he comes down only when Ravi comes to his rescue.
Radha is the guide whenever there is an outing. Backwaters, palm trees and the scenery are a treat. Ravi and Vicky always pit against each other in the boat races during Onam. Fish curry coupled with tapioca at the roadside stalls was their favourite, although sometimes Ravi would prefer uptown restaurants. This motley crew of three would have a whale of time knocking cashew fruits off trees, using catapults borrowed from the locals around. Fishing was a favorite sport for Vicky who never had seen a water body during his entire life. And even more fun were the campfire dinners they would have along the banks, cooking fish they had netted earlier during the day. The antics of Ravi added more fun but when he came down to his eerie anecdotes about witchcraft and voodoo dolls it would scare the daylights out of Radha and Vicky.
It is during many such outings that Radha and Vicky nourished a special relationship. It was a rare kind of bonhomie that they share but cannot define it. So much so that, whenever his boss would depute Vicky to find out about Radha’s prospective bridegrooms, Vicky would misreport, even when the facts would favour Radha. He would simply complain ‘He and his parents are complete jerks!’ Only Ravi knows what is going on but Vicky would not accept the fact.
Once when Vicky discovers snaps of semi nude hunks under the mattress, he is overwhelmed. Ravi declares, ‘Yes, I am a gay and I do not prefer women’. Whenever Vicky feigned reluctance for the occasional bear hug or slept on the floor even on cold nights, Ravi would nudge back ‘By the way, you are not even my kind of man!’ Eventually, Vicky accepts Ravi as he is and would detest you hard if you think Ravi is unusual.
Vicky begins to feel good about this new place and he opens up to all the situations of life. He evolves gradually and Ravi plays a huge part.
Bad and sad things come together. ‘Congrats Vicky, you’re going back’ his boss said one fine day. His transfer request is accepted. Vicky cannot believe his ears, nor can Ravi. Vicky flies back to his place, Amritsar.
Back in Amritsar, Vicky misses on the fun that he used to have within an environment of his own people. He often reminisces the good time he would have with his gang during the training days. Vicky starts to be within his orbit remaining aloof for most of the time. His level of interaction wears out and performance levels marked in red begin to show. Phone calls and e-mails don’t substitute his actual presence in Kozhikode and soon he can take it no longer. He now wants to be back again, to be with his friend Ravi, to tell Radha that he loves her more than any other girl in the world.
‘She is the best bahu you can ever get’ he tells his parents. Vicky goes back even if it means losing his job.
Later, Vicky marries Radha. Ravi is still on the look out!!
~~~
Vikram is to be stationed for his new job, in a virtually unknown place that is alien to him. Obviously for anyone who knows nothing more than Ajnala or the bigger Amritsar, Kozhikode would only mean a tongue twister.
‘Where is Kozhikode?’ Vikram asked, attempting hard to get the pronunciation right. ‘This place is in Assam’, replied Jagmeet paaji, the ‘Mr. Know-it-all’ at New Punjab Roadlines. Only he knows how right or wrong he is. Prod him more and he will probably give you the latitudes and longitudes of Kozhikode!
Vikram prefers to investigate himself. Mundu, the attendant with the Mehras for years cannot help him better. ‘Vikram – has already left for Assam… new job’, he tells everyone at home. Down comes the world for Parminder, Vikram’s mother. ‘You are responsible’ she yells looking towards OP Mehra, Vikram’s father. OP Mehra always wanted him to be the next boss of New Punjab Roadlines. Vikram’s choice of an engineering degree or job after that did not go well with him.
Everything falls silent when Vikram calmly walks in. ‘I had only been to find out about Kozhikode, - to the headmaster’s house.’ Mundu swallows hard. All the eyes in the room stare him, but he saves himself with his trademark grin. As an effort to manage a truce, OP Mehra allows Vikram to go. ‘But Mundu will also go’ he adds. Mrs. Mehra agrees.
‘Papaji, you cannot be serious’, thinks Vikram. But Mundu is happy.
‘Platform 5, S5, berth numbers 5 and 6’, Vikram whispers to Mundu as he gets off his truck. It is very hard for Vikram to keep Mundu away but a wrong coach number and a wrong platform number easily does the job! Vikram is relieved.
On the train, Vikram browses through a literature copy by Kerala Tourism Board. And all of a sudden pantry men sporting a dash of sandal on their forehead with their waysti folded up to their knees serve idli and sambar, his co-passengers have their meal on a banana leaf and some pour their coffee from a height out of a tumbler in to another and all he can hear is the sound of the mridhungam playing hard. ‘No’, Vikram lets out a huge cry. And everything returns to normal.
Kozhikode is a ‘jack-in-the-box’ for Vikram. The company driver does not turn up at the station and the rickshaw drivers swarm Vikram like bees. He does not understand what they say. Neither could they when he tries. The local phone is out of order. The railway police take his baggage after it lay unclaimed. The rains drench him and the lorry driver sloshes him with Kozhikode muck.
‘Bail out of Kozhikode as soon as possible!’ Vikram mutters.
Vikram is put up at Mrs. Batra’s residence. This Punjabi lady could yak on for hours as if it were a talkathon. She would even brave the stench from his socks to complete her story. Vikram couldn’t endure. Nor his own socks, neither her talks!
Vikram pushes for a transfer and how good it would be to forward your transfer application to your boss on your first ever meeting with a unique gift – a tender coconut neatly wrapped in a transparent polythene carry bag. At least Radha, his boss’ daughter is amused, if not impressed. She smiles, ‘So cute’ and winks at her mother. Vikram chuckles ‘It’s working!’
Ravi is also put up with Vikram at Batra’s place. It always feels great to have someone like Ravi as a friend, if not your roomie. Talk to him and struggle to match his one-liners. He is simply straightforward and so frank that you would never want to play chicken with him. Play some heavy metal and he will treat you to a Scotch. Gradually, Ravi and Vikram hit off well with each other and soon Vikram becomes Vicky, courtesy Ravi.
During their booze parties, whenever Vicky is on his special Punj high and picks up a fight with the locals, it is always Ravi who plays the referee. During once such post booze session, Vicky in his usual high, scales a coconut tree almost up to half its height. And when he realizes the vertigo he comes down only when Ravi comes to his rescue.
Radha is the guide whenever there is an outing. Backwaters, palm trees and the scenery are a treat. Ravi and Vicky always pit against each other in the boat races during Onam. Fish curry coupled with tapioca at the roadside stalls was their favourite, although sometimes Ravi would prefer uptown restaurants. This motley crew of three would have a whale of time knocking cashew fruits off trees, using catapults borrowed from the locals around. Fishing was a favorite sport for Vicky who never had seen a water body during his entire life. And even more fun were the campfire dinners they would have along the banks, cooking fish they had netted earlier during the day. The antics of Ravi added more fun but when he came down to his eerie anecdotes about witchcraft and voodoo dolls it would scare the daylights out of Radha and Vicky.
It is during many such outings that Radha and Vicky nourished a special relationship. It was a rare kind of bonhomie that they share but cannot define it. So much so that, whenever his boss would depute Vicky to find out about Radha’s prospective bridegrooms, Vicky would misreport, even when the facts would favour Radha. He would simply complain ‘He and his parents are complete jerks!’ Only Ravi knows what is going on but Vicky would not accept the fact.
Once when Vicky discovers snaps of semi nude hunks under the mattress, he is overwhelmed. Ravi declares, ‘Yes, I am a gay and I do not prefer women’. Whenever Vicky feigned reluctance for the occasional bear hug or slept on the floor even on cold nights, Ravi would nudge back ‘By the way, you are not even my kind of man!’ Eventually, Vicky accepts Ravi as he is and would detest you hard if you think Ravi is unusual.
Vicky begins to feel good about this new place and he opens up to all the situations of life. He evolves gradually and Ravi plays a huge part.
Bad and sad things come together. ‘Congrats Vicky, you’re going back’ his boss said one fine day. His transfer request is accepted. Vicky cannot believe his ears, nor can Ravi. Vicky flies back to his place, Amritsar.
Back in Amritsar, Vicky misses on the fun that he used to have within an environment of his own people. He often reminisces the good time he would have with his gang during the training days. Vicky starts to be within his orbit remaining aloof for most of the time. His level of interaction wears out and performance levels marked in red begin to show. Phone calls and e-mails don’t substitute his actual presence in Kozhikode and soon he can take it no longer. He now wants to be back again, to be with his friend Ravi, to tell Radha that he loves her more than any other girl in the world.
‘She is the best bahu you can ever get’ he tells his parents. Vicky goes back even if it means losing his job.
Later, Vicky marries Radha. Ravi is still on the look out!!
~~~
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