Abhay Deol is so effortless, he almost looks lazy. But I wish directors could give him more intense roles. I would watch.

Attrition is booming. Just when we needed more eyes and hands. It's going to be a struggle at least till the year end.

If Congress party cannot bring in some changes now, when else? I thought 2014 itself was a great opportunity but they missed it. Life has given them another unfortunate chance so they should grab at least this one.

Photograph

I watched Ritesh Batra's Photograph some days ago. It's been maligned by some for its slowness but I enjoyed the very fact. He has to develop two worlds disparate in so many ways that it would take time. I could've watched another hour of it. I guess some would also hate the fact that the movie doesn't conclude one way or the other(P swore badly when the end credits rolled) or that it doesn't even feel like having begun in the traditional sense. But having watched a couple of his previous movies, I'm getting used to Batra's modus operandi. He just gives you the premise and lets you fill in the rest, optimistically or otherwise. He doesn't believe in letting you go with just a happy or a sad sigh. It takes some getting used to, surely. And given the fact that the characters hardly speak in words, it's some bit of hard work for the viewer. Much as I enjoyed that process, I couldn't help cursing Batra at times for his stinginess. Like the scene where the hero discovers the girl's favourite and now supposedly-extinct Campa Cola. You prepare yourself for the impending romantic moment but no, it turns out that you have to conjure it up only in your head! Sadistic, no?

Manic

Today was one crazily hectic day. The kind where I say yes to a lot many things without understanding much because my brain is too full. I wish I had recorded my conversations.

And yes, tomorrow promises to be worse.

Square One

School is a mother's best friend. Much as she loves her children. And much as she hates the morning madness.

Deep Blue Sea and the Hard Rock

Some days after the elections, I asked Pappa if my uncle, his younger brother, had campaigned for his MP this time. My uncle is a small-time politician and an ardent supporter of the MP. Pappa said hardly. I asked why. It seems the first thing was that the MP had done next to nothing in the last five years so my uncle wasn't keen to be abused asking to vote for him again. But the second thing was also that his main opponent was worse. He had got the ticket only because there was a tussle between two other local leaders to get the ticket for their respective children and the party wanted to avoid the headache. I thought my uncle had been wise. His MP won with an unprecedented margin.

I wonder how many seats across the country would've had a similar story. Sorry state of affairs for the voters and also failure of the political parties to capitalize on an opportunity.

The White Elephant

Despite being his fan, when I see Anant Nag in a new movie trailer, I get worried. He is the distraction most movies simply cannot afford. The moment his role enters the story, the movie just goes wayward, focusing on every line of his old face rather than the matter at hand. The next half an hour would be spent in this fanboy manner, whether it's a thriller or a family drama. So frustrating! As if they want to have his name in their resume before he vanishes from this world! The fault I'm sure is not his, except that he seems to be indulging anybody who comes with an offer.

It's raining almost everyday. Very welcome but last year it rained only in May. I hope it doesn't repeat this time. We can't afford it.

Bridging the Gap

There is an old couple on one of the lower floors. The lady is a retired teacher and they have a daughter in London and a son in Dubai. Like us they've been in the building right from the beginning, she's friendly and I say a few words once in a while, when I meet her on the road. She seems to be the one running the house because all I've seen the old man doing is standing outside the gate or sitting on a bench in the park and smoking. Anyway, three days ago I had gone to her floor looking for Anu. I met Auntie by chance and she said she was just tired from all the running around and packing she's been doing for the impending travel. Both of them were going to stay with their daughter for a month and a half and then with their son for a week. Then she asked me to take a look at her bag and tell her if it would be okay as a cabin baggage, as far as the size went. I said I would check and let her know. That night she came home to confirm some more things with P and she said she had just returned from Yelahanka after getting a printout from a relative. P and I were aghast; Yelahanka by public transport is like another planet and she went there just to get a printout?! It turns out she didn't have an email id and her daughter had mailed her some documents to be taken along. I felt so sorry. She lives in a building where all except her must have a laptop and an email id and 90% of the people work in IT industry and she had to go all the way to Yelahanka! I told her she could've knocked anybody's door for it and everybody would've been glad to help out. She gave a sheepish smile and said yes, everybody was very kind actually. I didn't know what to say except to give her my email id and to beg her to let me know if she needed any such thing in the future. Thankfully, for the next few days she took printouts from me, weighing machine from another neighbour and finally yesterday her neighbour and I saw them off in the cab to the airport. After she left, her neighbour and I got to discussing about how active she was but I'm not sure she does it for pleasure. May be she's just not ready or confident to swim in this new world of online transactions so she drags her tired body to all the offices which are hardly friendly most times. What will she do in another ten years?

And my mother recently did some banking transactions(going to the branch) on her own and she's feeling very thrilled. In the past V and I had been asking her to operate her account on her own but she'd never shown any interest. Her recent feud with my father makes her want to be all independent now. Nice.

Celestial Biases

I got all puzzled seeing this on my calendar until I realized it was not to do with the gender but with maLe(rain). I mean, the star names are all female and men want to appropriate them?

The Number Game

Last week, N had taken some of us out for her farewell lunch. We had just finished the starters when my teammate A, sitting next to me, whispered that JD had passed away the previous day. I couldn't believe my ears; the last time I spoke to him a few years ago, he was a young enthusiastic tester. I said he was too young to die of a heart failure(I'm still in denial, it's happening all too often around me) and A said, "Yeah, he wouldn't have been more than 45". I said no, he must've been younger than me. Now A said, "He would've been just 40 to 45, so young!". I got irritated now. What did he think! I forgot that a man was dead and that there were people sitting in front of me and I said, "No, he would've been just 35 to 40, not more!". A said Okay and I felt rather silly after that.

I badly need a shoulder today. A shoulder to lean on and look at the numbers running endlessly on the TV screens. Numbers that will be dissected and thrown at me for long and the numbers that may well be the new norm. Enviable numbers. I don't want to use the services of P because he hopped at the last moment for some nonsensical reasons. I think I'll turn to Netflix once again for solace today.

Sonny Days

Rishi's classes resumed after two months and it was really boring not having him at home. Even at home he's very busy studying but he's great company. But the boy is growing fast and soon it'll be time for him to go out somewhere...

Murderous Mood

Anu : (In shaky voice) Aayi, I read a Ruskin Bond book and he's written something that's making me very upset...
Me : What is it!
Anu : He says whoever has a mole on the neck is a murderer. You know I have one on mine..
Me : It's just a story, Ani...Some character in it says what his or her belief is and you shouldn't believe everything it says. Do you really think that can be true?
Anu : I don't, but...
Me : You know, I have three moles on my neck.
Anu : And you are not a murderer!
Me : Of course I'm not!
Anu : (Smiling) Alright then.

When I was in school, the popular belief among girls was that a mole indicated impending prosperity on that part of the body. Meaning, if I had a mole on my neck, I would wear many gold necklaces and if the mole was on the finger, many gold rings etc. And I used to feel pretty upbeat about the moles on my neck then. Of course it hasn't happened, by intention or through inheritance. But I prefer such optimistic options to the murderous ones anyday.

Being Brave

Exit Poll results are out and yeah...But I preempted the heartburn by congratulating my mother on the impending win, two weeks in advance. She beamed and with the fake concern of the victor, said UP may not be that easy. I ground my teeth and said it was going to be okay. God, it's hard to be a minority!

I've decided I'm going to enjoy the next five years. 

The Wrong(ed) One

Some time ago, we had put a baby potato in one of our empty pots in the balcony. A few days later, I opened the balcony door to see a pigeon sitting inside the pot, as if incubating. It was clear the bird had mistaken the potato for an egg. Pigeons have been periodically laying eggs in my balcony and I've been mercilessly disposing them off but this bird was not my victim. May be someone else had done it and in its desperation to retrieve the missing egg, it had come to the wrong balcony altogether. I felt sorry. I wish these birds could understand where they are not welcome; they just don't. Anyway, I guess eventually it figured its mistake. It left the potato alone.

Missing the Bus

I think BCR has the best public transport system in the world. We are spoilt for choice and we love it. In fact, in the few weeks we spend there, we use more public transport than we do the rest of the year. I'm missing it already, both the buses and the ride through beautiful scenes.

The Midnight Peeve

The hallmark of right wingers is that they don't understand "Live and let live". They just cannot fathom that two people can coexist with divergent views. They behave as if they have a terrible itch which won't go away until they convert you to their way of thinking.

Phir Wahi Raat Hai...

It's barely been four days since we returned from our holidays but it feels like a long time ago already. One shouldn't return from two weeks of vacation on a working day and I hope never to commit this sin again. It's been a maddening week so far, with hectic work schedule for both P and me and a house that looked like a playground. Trips to Moodubidri, Suratkal, Manipal etc. have begun to feel like ancient history already.

What animal is this? Giraffe or a dinosaur?

Familiar Dilemmas

Some days ago, I visited one of our neighbours with some food that my mother had sent for her. She offered a jackfruit in return. I cut the fruit from her tree and Auntie said this year some of them had withered early. She said it must be because of the evil eye cast by some of the neighbours last year, who excessively praised its sweetness. I ate the fruit today and it indeed is very sweet. But I don't know if I should mention that to her now.

In fact this year particularly, I've heard this evil eye thing mentioned all over the place, being responsible for mangoes developing worms to babies having stomach upsets. I don't know where all my name will be mentioned as the culprit next time.

The other day I took an auto in the night to reach my place. I got down and asked him how much the fare was, considering it was beyond 9 p.m. He said, "As you please". I said I wasn't aware of the prevailing rate. He repeated his words. I got irritated now. What am I, a queen paying him bakshish as I pleased? But he wouldn't budge. May be he knew me from old days, I wasn't sure but I didn't recognize him one bit. Finally I paid him what I thought was fair and finished the odd haggling. 

Disaster Tourism

Went to meet Sir yesterday. After eight years. After I boarded the return bus, I had this urge to wring my hands. Three hours of conversation and I was very confused, frustrated and worried. He knows L so I mentioned her academic life but I was wondering if she would've been glad to hear him speak. I could imagine both of them being on the same page and it made me jealous. I definitely wasn't able to understand where all that new conviction of his came from. He was eager to speak and he started from the moment I stepped inside his house. And unlike others, he said there was no solution. We were doomed. There was nothing I could say that offered any counter. I timidly put the books I had carried for him back into my bag, mumbling that he may not be reading those anymore. He just curtly said yes, barely glancing at them. He was angry that ignorant people sat in a bubble, ready to be sitting ducks when the day came, and I knew he meant me. And he made it worse by asking me sarcastically if I wanted to take some of his old American fictions. I refused. He was eager that I take Byrappa's Parva but I declined it too; I had read it already. I just wanted to run away at that moment.

After I left, he messaged he was sorry that we spent the entire time talking such an unpleasant topic and that he hoped my next visit would be better. It wasn't much of a solace, really.

Anu : Aayi, Mangalore is so green and good in general. I wish Bangalore was like that.
Me : What if we came and lived here itself?
Anu : But then I'll miss my Bangalore friends. I wish I could get them all to live here too. But I'll have to teach most of them Kannada. Mangalore seems to be only-Kannada kind of place.
Me : How about visiting your friends once in a while instead?
Anu : No...I wouldn't like that. I don't know if I'll get such good friends here...Let's be in Bangalore. May be when I grow older I'll come and live here.

Looking to Reset

The cold war between my parents is stifling. If I share a light moment with my father, it seems to come at the cost of alienating my mother. My mother is hardly discreet so I can expect Rishi to come complaining about it to me soon. I know that everything will be set right if my mother is willing but it is unfair to expect her to do it, even after all these years. Though I'm not convinced about all her present accusations about my father. But telling that to my mother has only brought forth sharp rebukes. I worry about what will happen once we leave for Bangalore.

Kinships

Especially in this election season, I've felt closer to relatively stranger people than my own relatives. An auto driver, a vegetable vendor, an Akka who I meet after years...I've resisted the temptation to hug and kiss them or at least shake their hand.

Yardsticks

Mothers are the most unreasonable creatures sometimes. They are the kindest to their own daughters but when it comes to others', their standards are very high. I'm glad my mother doesn't have a daughter-in-law.

Acclimatizing

After sweating like crazy for the first few days and earning concerned comments from one and all, I've stabilized. But the damage is done. The back of my neck feels like elephant skin.

My mother and I went for a long chatty walk today and I returned uncomfortable. There is serious trouble brewing in my house and I don't think playing it down helps anymore.

Sights and Sounds

In the last few days I've slept better than I have in ages. My eyes have seen mostly greenery and water and I've soaked in so much of goodwill and bonhomie. I would've loved to go on and immerse myself in the unadulterated environment, where change seems to crawl. But I also know all this is a guest's privilege. Most of the households that I visited have their share of daily troubles, monetary and familial. I feel helpless most times except for lending an ear. Even where I can help with some money, there is propriety to be considered and once I do that, it feels like a labyrinth and I get frustrated enough to do nothing. I thrust some money into someone's hand, brushing aside their protests because I can see in their eyes how much they need it, and then they shed tears and utter some blessings and I just don't know what to say. I feel guilty, ashamed and make my escape quickly. In those times I wish I was 10 again, rummaging their houses for something to read, basking in all the affection they showered on me. Growing up to see this day sucks.

New Battles

When I used to travel from home to Suratkal during Engg. days, Pumpwell would be the gateway to Mangalore, the city. Welcoming and reassuring. Today it looks like a tired battlefield.
Of lost battles.