I just read in today's newspaper that George W Bush recently had a slime-mould beetle named after him. Boy! What a popular guy! He's now rampaging the insect world.
The Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi apparently sent Goran Persson, his Swedish counterpart 24 bottles of wine because the latter was so aghast at the thought of drinking British wine which Tony Blair offered when he hosted the European Union Summit in Brussels - this must surely rank as diplomacy at its best. The last thing the world needs right now is to go to war over wines.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
THE DANCE OF THE MUSES
They gallop away like a frenzied mare
That can't be tamed or saddled
Emotional tornadoes in no one's care
Why should a deceitful mind be cradled?
I once saw a fairy with her magic wand
Which she waved and the world wore a smile
Even the ducks were laughing in the pond
And they could be heard for a mile
'Oh, Fairy!' I cried, 'take me with you to the land of peace
Take my heart in your beautiful hands
Make me as happy as those laughing geese
Whose tornadoes are banished from their heartlands.'
She turned on me and horror crossed her face
With a wave of her wand, she was a witch
In a frenzy, she tore at her beautiful lace
She ripped it stitch by beautiful stitch
'You cursed beast,' she shrieked, 'your decaying soul has cast a rotten spell
That has turned my beauty into ugliness
The tornado that has seized your soul and broken its shell
Should be killed or you'll never know happiness.'
Gales swept the world and the geese were sad
And the Fairy's wand lay broken
The birds were dying, the animals went mad
Mournful cries were heard, no words were spoken
I ran away and sat by the stream feeling very wicked and powerful
Suddenly the nightmare became a dream
The howls were music even if they were mournful
'Satan's on his throne,' I chirped, 'and all's well with the world
The birds and beasts are just like me.'
My eyes gleamed and in a smirk my lips were curled
The cause of their misery I was happy to be
I heard the tinkle of laughter that sounded like silver bells
I saw the Dance of the Muses in a silver glow
I wondered if they could break cursed spells
Or if more misery would follow
I stood mesmerized by the dance and the birds began to sing
The animals were silenced as silver stars rained
And little silver bells began to ring
The wind became quiet as if suddenly chained.
Whiteness washed over me and such peace I had never known
That I fell on my knees and wept my tears
As the beautiful silver light shone
The tornado was crushed and so were my fears...
The Fairies now laughed and danced and the animals joined them too
The sun smiled broadly, the birds continued their song, and the sky turned a deeper blue
Now, I felt less powerful but more strong.
That can't be tamed or saddled
Emotional tornadoes in no one's care
Why should a deceitful mind be cradled?
I once saw a fairy with her magic wand
Which she waved and the world wore a smile
Even the ducks were laughing in the pond
And they could be heard for a mile
'Oh, Fairy!' I cried, 'take me with you to the land of peace
Take my heart in your beautiful hands
Make me as happy as those laughing geese
Whose tornadoes are banished from their heartlands.'
She turned on me and horror crossed her face
With a wave of her wand, she was a witch
In a frenzy, she tore at her beautiful lace
She ripped it stitch by beautiful stitch
'You cursed beast,' she shrieked, 'your decaying soul has cast a rotten spell
That has turned my beauty into ugliness
The tornado that has seized your soul and broken its shell
Should be killed or you'll never know happiness.'
Gales swept the world and the geese were sad
And the Fairy's wand lay broken
The birds were dying, the animals went mad
Mournful cries were heard, no words were spoken
I ran away and sat by the stream feeling very wicked and powerful
Suddenly the nightmare became a dream
The howls were music even if they were mournful
'Satan's on his throne,' I chirped, 'and all's well with the world
The birds and beasts are just like me.'
My eyes gleamed and in a smirk my lips were curled
The cause of their misery I was happy to be
I heard the tinkle of laughter that sounded like silver bells
I saw the Dance of the Muses in a silver glow
I wondered if they could break cursed spells
Or if more misery would follow
I stood mesmerized by the dance and the birds began to sing
The animals were silenced as silver stars rained
And little silver bells began to ring
The wind became quiet as if suddenly chained.
Whiteness washed over me and such peace I had never known
That I fell on my knees and wept my tears
As the beautiful silver light shone
The tornado was crushed and so were my fears...
The Fairies now laughed and danced and the animals joined them too
The sun smiled broadly, the birds continued their song, and the sky turned a deeper blue
Now, I felt less powerful but more strong.
WELCOME TO BANGALORE!
This was written in 1989 - I'm putting it up here because it's more relevant than ever today!
Traffic jam on the pavement
Ditches center, left, and right
Your eyes bulge in amazement
To me, it's a common sight
A whistle in the air
It's the invisible cop
He's made himself a chair
On a car top
The cow glared
The yuppie swore
You no longer cared
There couldn't be much more
Don't lose heart
In this city many adore
Survival is an art
Welcome to Bangalore!
Traffic jam on the pavement
Ditches center, left, and right
Your eyes bulge in amazement
To me, it's a common sight
A whistle in the air
It's the invisible cop
He's made himself a chair
On a car top
The cow glared
The yuppie swore
You no longer cared
There couldn't be much more
Don't lose heart
In this city many adore
Survival is an art
Welcome to Bangalore!
ZAPPED!
Daniel: "I found this one, she's really good
She's kind, she's caring, she's never rude
You must meet her, she's the new girl in my life
She's really different and better looking than my ex-wife!"
Emmanuel: "Oh! C'mon Daniel, not again
I've heard all this many times, all in vain
Relax a while, you try too hard
And that's why you never play the right card."
Daniel: "She's got long copper hair, huge black eyes
She's so gentle, she wouldn't even scare the mice."
Daniel was so smitten, Emmanuel just had to see
Who his friend's new girl could be
Off they went to Daniel's place
Emmanuel, eager to get a peek at her face.
When they reached, said Emmanuel
"Where's she? Don't see her Daniel."
Pointing to the garden, said Daniel,
"There she is, my new female Cocker Spaniel!"
She's kind, she's caring, she's never rude
You must meet her, she's the new girl in my life
She's really different and better looking than my ex-wife!"
Emmanuel: "Oh! C'mon Daniel, not again
I've heard all this many times, all in vain
Relax a while, you try too hard
And that's why you never play the right card."
Daniel: "She's got long copper hair, huge black eyes
She's so gentle, she wouldn't even scare the mice."
Daniel was so smitten, Emmanuel just had to see
Who his friend's new girl could be
Off they went to Daniel's place
Emmanuel, eager to get a peek at her face.
When they reached, said Emmanuel
"Where's she? Don't see her Daniel."
Pointing to the garden, said Daniel,
"There she is, my new female Cocker Spaniel!"
Monday, December 19, 2005
Medical Transcription - the 'empty' world
YOU ARE KING!
To be good at medical transcription, you must have a clear understanding about the roles of all involved players.
First of all, there's you. Forget the customer, YOU are King. Do not underestimate your powers. You have the power, for instance, to determine whether 52-year-old John Smith, the Caucasian male who came in for a hernia repair, leaves the hospital with name, age, gender, and race intact.....or if he even leaves, alive. He could be dead in YOUR hands before the doctor even gets to him. So, you, dear MT, are not just King - you're GOD.
Then, there's the doctor; more specifically, the BAD dictator. Bad doctors are an occupational hazard. Take them in your stride. Like everybody else who ever comes into your life, bad dictators too teach you something about yourself you didn't know....like, you're perfectly capable of having multiple homicidal ideations in a single 8-hour shift, but you don't act on them: You're great at resisting temptation ! You know a lot more adjectives than you think. You believe in prayer power. You can be really nasty and reject this report right now....ok, not that...so, moral of story: DO NOT Find Job.....job will find you (do not worry).
And THEN, there's the insurance company. If you want to worry, worry about these guys because if you miss the 'r' in John Smith's hernia, these wicked guys won't pay his "henia" bill which will ensure that you get ANOTHER dictation (by the SAME bad doctor) tomorrow (on the SAME patient) for a myocardial infarction - which is what John Smith will have when he takes a look at his "henia" bill - and please, you don't go and miss the 'r' again in his infarction.
Then, there's AAMT, the Boss - or BOS for short. Be mildly concerned about the AAMT. They will wake up every once in a while and tell you what hyphens to drop and what Romans to convert to Arabic (I'm talking about numerals, silly).
Contrary to what everyone will tell you, the patient should be the least of your concerns. I mean, c'mon, John Smith is not my rich uncle. Why should I care? Does he care that we get up at 4:30 a.m. to rush here and sit in front of our system and go to sleep while pop-ups fly around saying, "Link please", "where's the link?" "Link??", "LINK!!!!" and other such urgent messages? Not only does not NOT care, he lies there 10,000 miles away and offloads HIS problems on YOU. He's the most selfish player here, so please, just ignore him.
So now for Moral of Story: To be a good MT, the only thinkg that you need to be really concerned about is, when's your next weekly off.
~~~~~~~******~~~~~~~******~~~~~~~
THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST - with apologies of Oscar Wilde
First of all, if you haven't read "The Improtance of Being Ernest", do so immediately. It answers Shakespeare's eternal question "What's in a name?" and poses one of its own "What's not?"
Now, on to more pressing matters. Every single letter in a medical transcript is important. Sometimes, a wrong letter can can mean the difference between life and death. Here's an example: How many times do you type the word 'diet' in your report? And in how many combinations? Healthy diet, advanced diet, regular diet, clear liquid diet, pureed diet. Suppose you dropped the 't'?...or you substituted 'd' for it...wouldn't that make a huge difference? It may be one small 't' for you, but it's one giant leap (into the next world) for the patient. See what I mean about a life and death difference?
Healthy died - a technical impossibility.
Advanced died - second stage of death?
Regular died - I suppose we can live with this one (no pun).
Clear liquid died - death by drowning?
Pureed died - don't even go there.
If you're still not convinced, try this one for size. This example is not strictly medical though it might qualify under psychiatry: After months of American occupation of Iraq, President Bush recently said that they now that it was IRAN all along that had ties wtih Al-Qaeeda and not IRAQ. Wow! So now, there's a real possibility, like Jay Leno said, that "Bush bombed the wrong country because of a typo." So, take car when your tping.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
YOUR FAVOURITE DOCTORS
The Good Doctor: Starts with Hello or Good Morning. Says Please and Thank you a lot (“can you please change this? Thank you”, “can you please strike that out? Thank you”, “can you please cancel this dictation after typing 6 pages for half an hour? Sorry, thank you very much”). If he ever has to say ‘sternocleidomastoid muscle,’ he makes sure he spells it out. Ends with “Have a nice day.”
The Bad Doctor: Starts with a yawning Good Morning and ends with a yawning something-you-don’t-understand. In between, he sleeps. If he ever has to say ‘sternocleidomastoid muscle,’ he manages to make it sound like ‘Spiderman.’ Tries to help by spelling ‘muscle’…and spells it wrong.
The Ugly Doctor: Starts with a growl and warns you his reports are verbatim. There’s a slight problem with that: he doesn’t know grammar, and he misspells everything but keeps warning you not to meddle with his report. Dictates hair-raising drug dosages and lab values that could only fit an ape. “Just you try and change that,” he warns you.
The On-call Doctor: He’s covering for someone else and like all people who cover for someone else, he’d much rather be somewhere else. His favourite phrases are “I’m not sure,” and “I think, maybe”. Starts with “I’m Dr…uh…err…Dr…Dr…Dr…” he struggles to get his name out and you wonder if he could possibly have forgotten his own name.
The Confused Doctor: Starts with a cheerful “Good Morning” and then turns to someone and asks, “it IS morning, isn’t it?” Dates the visit in the 20th century and tells you midway that it’s the date of birth (giggles). Switches merrily between “he” and “she”, “left” and “right”, and “hand” and “foot” throughout. Turns to someone and asks (at the end), “Am I in the right place?”
The Whispering Doctor: He sits on a highway with 18-wheeler trucks roaring past and whispers. In addition, he sounds like someone is holding his head under water, and by the time you finish transcribing the report, you desperately wish you could have that honour. Says “Thank you” very loudly at the end.
Dr. Wren and Martin: Uses only one preposition, “in”; one verb, “are” and 3 genders, “he”, “she”, and “it.” Remarkably grammar-free and very very happy with himself.
So, have a nice day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~
IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU...
It did to me! What you're about to read is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God. Doctor: "Good Morning. I want to make a change to a report that I dictated in 1995. I don't have the report number and I can't remember the patient's name, obviously, (and I hope to God I'm in the right hospital), but I want to change Chief Complaint from "cat bite" to "monkey bite" and the part where I said "The patient tells me he sometimes feels very catty and has to resist the urge to lap up milk from a bowl", I want that changed to "The patient tells me he sometimes feels like a monkey and has to resist the urge to swing from trees." I want these corrections made on the original job. Find it. It must be SOMEWHERE. I repeat, DON'T SEND THIS AS AN ADDENDUM."
He practically yelled into my ears....and he sounded just like Al Capone. I was shaking like a leaf in a snowstorm. I don't know about you, but I scare very easily. This was a doctor. An American one. Probably Republican...and you know how dangerous THEY are. They're all unarmed and dangerous....except President Bush, of course, who's armed and dangerous. I sit at my workstation with a chief complaint of my own: Diaphoresis and atrial flutter. If I defy this doctor's orders, who knows, they could bomb Bangalore (they've certainly bombed other places for far sillier reasons.....like, being unable to find a reason) and I didn't want to be famous like that. And can you imagine what would happen to my US QA if they bombed us ? So I run up and down between floor one and floor four trying to find someone who knows what to do with this report. None of us are really sure, but I get plenty of opinions.
Opinion 1: Type everything verbatim and post it (and buy yourself a gun for protection).
Opinion 2: No!!! Are you nuts?? Put it in tech with a note "Veterinary Report".
Opinion 3: Do that only if you want to get sued; if you don't, delete the job.
Opinion 4: Delete it?!?! But isn't that a HIPPY violation?
Opinion 5: What is HIPPY violation?
Opinion 6 (my opinion): Open window. Jump.
Okay people, back to work...What? Oh, you want to know what I did with the report ? I rejected it. Now, turn off your autoselect and enjoy the remains of your day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~
To be good at medical transcription, you must have a clear understanding about the roles of all involved players.
First of all, there's you. Forget the customer, YOU are King. Do not underestimate your powers. You have the power, for instance, to determine whether 52-year-old John Smith, the Caucasian male who came in for a hernia repair, leaves the hospital with name, age, gender, and race intact.....or if he even leaves, alive. He could be dead in YOUR hands before the doctor even gets to him. So, you, dear MT, are not just King - you're GOD.
Then, there's the doctor; more specifically, the BAD dictator. Bad doctors are an occupational hazard. Take them in your stride. Like everybody else who ever comes into your life, bad dictators too teach you something about yourself you didn't know....like, you're perfectly capable of having multiple homicidal ideations in a single 8-hour shift, but you don't act on them: You're great at resisting temptation ! You know a lot more adjectives than you think. You believe in prayer power. You can be really nasty and reject this report right now....ok, not that...so, moral of story: DO NOT Find Job.....job will find you (do not worry).
And THEN, there's the insurance company. If you want to worry, worry about these guys because if you miss the 'r' in John Smith's hernia, these wicked guys won't pay his "henia" bill which will ensure that you get ANOTHER dictation (by the SAME bad doctor) tomorrow (on the SAME patient) for a myocardial infarction - which is what John Smith will have when he takes a look at his "henia" bill - and please, you don't go and miss the 'r' again in his infarction.
Then, there's AAMT, the Boss - or BOS for short. Be mildly concerned about the AAMT. They will wake up every once in a while and tell you what hyphens to drop and what Romans to convert to Arabic (I'm talking about numerals, silly).
Contrary to what everyone will tell you, the patient should be the least of your concerns. I mean, c'mon, John Smith is not my rich uncle. Why should I care? Does he care that we get up at 4:30 a.m. to rush here and sit in front of our system and go to sleep while pop-ups fly around saying, "Link please", "where's the link?" "Link??", "LINK!!!!" and other such urgent messages? Not only does not NOT care, he lies there 10,000 miles away and offloads HIS problems on YOU. He's the most selfish player here, so please, just ignore him.
So now for Moral of Story: To be a good MT, the only thinkg that you need to be really concerned about is, when's your next weekly off.
~~~~~~~******~~~~~~~******~~~~~~~
THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST - with apologies of Oscar Wilde
First of all, if you haven't read "The Improtance of Being Ernest", do so immediately. It answers Shakespeare's eternal question "What's in a name?" and poses one of its own "What's not?"
Now, on to more pressing matters. Every single letter in a medical transcript is important. Sometimes, a wrong letter can can mean the difference between life and death. Here's an example: How many times do you type the word 'diet' in your report? And in how many combinations? Healthy diet, advanced diet, regular diet, clear liquid diet, pureed diet. Suppose you dropped the 't'?...or you substituted 'd' for it...wouldn't that make a huge difference? It may be one small 't' for you, but it's one giant leap (into the next world) for the patient. See what I mean about a life and death difference?
Healthy died - a technical impossibility.
Advanced died - second stage of death?
Regular died - I suppose we can live with this one (no pun).
Clear liquid died - death by drowning?
Pureed died - don't even go there.
If you're still not convinced, try this one for size. This example is not strictly medical though it might qualify under psychiatry: After months of American occupation of Iraq, President Bush recently said that they now that it was IRAN all along that had ties wtih Al-Qaeeda and not IRAQ. Wow! So now, there's a real possibility, like Jay Leno said, that "Bush bombed the wrong country because of a typo." So, take car when your tping.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
YOUR FAVOURITE DOCTORS
The Good Doctor: Starts with Hello or Good Morning. Says Please and Thank you a lot (“can you please change this? Thank you”, “can you please strike that out? Thank you”, “can you please cancel this dictation after typing 6 pages for half an hour? Sorry, thank you very much”). If he ever has to say ‘sternocleidomastoid muscle,’ he makes sure he spells it out. Ends with “Have a nice day.”
The Bad Doctor: Starts with a yawning Good Morning and ends with a yawning something-you-don’t-understand. In between, he sleeps. If he ever has to say ‘sternocleidomastoid muscle,’ he manages to make it sound like ‘Spiderman.’ Tries to help by spelling ‘muscle’…and spells it wrong.
The Ugly Doctor: Starts with a growl and warns you his reports are verbatim. There’s a slight problem with that: he doesn’t know grammar, and he misspells everything but keeps warning you not to meddle with his report. Dictates hair-raising drug dosages and lab values that could only fit an ape. “Just you try and change that,” he warns you.
The On-call Doctor: He’s covering for someone else and like all people who cover for someone else, he’d much rather be somewhere else. His favourite phrases are “I’m not sure,” and “I think, maybe”. Starts with “I’m Dr…uh…err…Dr…Dr…Dr…” he struggles to get his name out and you wonder if he could possibly have forgotten his own name.
The Confused Doctor: Starts with a cheerful “Good Morning” and then turns to someone and asks, “it IS morning, isn’t it?” Dates the visit in the 20th century and tells you midway that it’s the date of birth (giggles). Switches merrily between “he” and “she”, “left” and “right”, and “hand” and “foot” throughout. Turns to someone and asks (at the end), “Am I in the right place?”
The Whispering Doctor: He sits on a highway with 18-wheeler trucks roaring past and whispers. In addition, he sounds like someone is holding his head under water, and by the time you finish transcribing the report, you desperately wish you could have that honour. Says “Thank you” very loudly at the end.
Dr. Wren and Martin: Uses only one preposition, “in”; one verb, “are” and 3 genders, “he”, “she”, and “it.” Remarkably grammar-free and very very happy with himself.
So, have a nice day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~
IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU...
It did to me! What you're about to read is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God. Doctor: "Good Morning. I want to make a change to a report that I dictated in 1995. I don't have the report number and I can't remember the patient's name, obviously, (and I hope to God I'm in the right hospital), but I want to change Chief Complaint from "cat bite" to "monkey bite" and the part where I said "The patient tells me he sometimes feels very catty and has to resist the urge to lap up milk from a bowl", I want that changed to "The patient tells me he sometimes feels like a monkey and has to resist the urge to swing from trees." I want these corrections made on the original job. Find it. It must be SOMEWHERE. I repeat, DON'T SEND THIS AS AN ADDENDUM."
He practically yelled into my ears....and he sounded just like Al Capone. I was shaking like a leaf in a snowstorm. I don't know about you, but I scare very easily. This was a doctor. An American one. Probably Republican...and you know how dangerous THEY are. They're all unarmed and dangerous....except President Bush, of course, who's armed and dangerous. I sit at my workstation with a chief complaint of my own: Diaphoresis and atrial flutter. If I defy this doctor's orders, who knows, they could bomb Bangalore (they've certainly bombed other places for far sillier reasons.....like, being unable to find a reason) and I didn't want to be famous like that. And can you imagine what would happen to my US QA if they bombed us ? So I run up and down between floor one and floor four trying to find someone who knows what to do with this report. None of us are really sure, but I get plenty of opinions.
Opinion 1: Type everything verbatim and post it (and buy yourself a gun for protection).
Opinion 2: No!!! Are you nuts?? Put it in tech with a note "Veterinary Report".
Opinion 3: Do that only if you want to get sued; if you don't, delete the job.
Opinion 4: Delete it?!?! But isn't that a HIPPY violation?
Opinion 5: What is HIPPY violation?
Opinion 6 (my opinion): Open window. Jump.
Okay people, back to work...What? Oh, you want to know what I did with the report ? I rejected it. Now, turn off your autoselect and enjoy the remains of your day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Miraculous Messages from Water
http://www.life-enthusiast.com/twilight/research_emoto.htm
Absolutely fascinating article on water!
Excerpt from the article on this page: "The photographs and information in this article reflect the work of Masaru Emoto, a creative and visionary Japanese researcher .......These photographs show the incredible reflections of water, as alive and highly responsive to every one of our emotions and thoughts. It is quite clear that water easily takes on the vibrations and energy of it's environment, whether toxic and polluted or naturally pristine.
Masaru Emoto's extraordinary work is an awesome display, and powerful tool, that can change our perceptions of ourselves and the world we live in, forever. We now have profound evidence that we can positively heal and transform ourselves and our planet by the thoughts we choose to think and the ways in which we put those thoughts into action."
Absolutely fascinating article on water!
Excerpt from the article on this page: "The photographs and information in this article reflect the work of Masaru Emoto, a creative and visionary Japanese researcher .......These photographs show the incredible reflections of water, as alive and highly responsive to every one of our emotions and thoughts. It is quite clear that water easily takes on the vibrations and energy of it's environment, whether toxic and polluted or naturally pristine.
Masaru Emoto's extraordinary work is an awesome display, and powerful tool, that can change our perceptions of ourselves and the world we live in, forever. We now have profound evidence that we can positively heal and transform ourselves and our planet by the thoughts we choose to think and the ways in which we put those thoughts into action."
Saturday, November 26, 2005
Quote
To see a World in a grain of sand
And a Heaven in a wild flower
Hold Infinity in the plam of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
- William Blake
And a Heaven in a wild flower
Hold Infinity in the plam of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
- William Blake
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Cyprus Diary - April 2002
The plane angles sharply in descent. The blue sea seems to leap at your porthole. The beauty of the gleaming Mediterranean takes your breath away. You couldn't hope for a better welcome.
Cyprus is a Mediterranean Island. It's called the Island of Venus, Island of the Sun, Island of Aphrodite, hundreds of names really but nothing does justice to this charming place. Locally, it's called Kypru. The population is about 700,000 (less than Bangalore!) It's history is complicated and interesting but it's most recent influences have been Turkish, British, and of course Greek. It's been colonised just like us, and everyone speaks English. The people are warm and friendly and very interested in India. Cyprus is located in a commercial hotspot - a Mediterranean port close to 3 continents: Asia, Africa, and Europe but they don't export much....mainly oranges. They import everything from everywhere.
Where we stayed was Nicosia, the capital city, locally known as Lefkosia. It's perfect to a fault, very picturesque, very neat and tidy, very laid back, and very very safe. The best way to see the city is by foot (I suppose that's the best way to see any place). Nicosia is the last divided capital city in the world. My bedroom had a view of this mountain with a huge crescent moon painted on the backdrop of a flag...that's where Turkish Cyprus begins. The Turks and Greeks hate each other with a passion that makes the Indo-Pak rivalry look like a romance. Though they're just across the border, they couldn't be more different.
Greek Cyprus (where we stayed) is more influenced by Europe. It's currency is the pound, and it's value in terms of Indian rupees would be around 77, but these people don't trade in the international market so if you crossed the border with a pound, it's as good as used tissue - absolutely worthless. This side of the fence, unemployment is almost nil, crime rate is 0, and the standard of living very high. They speak Greek. it's a very safe place. You can leave your house unlocked and go on a vacation and come back and nothing will be missing. You can safely walk around at 2 in the morning without worrying about being mugged. You don't have to worry about the taxis taking you for a ride (no pun), your pocket being picked, or your property being trespassed. The Turks I heard are everything the Greeks are not. There's rampant poverty and unemployment, and naturally, crime.
Nicosia is a beautiful city. When we landed, it was spring, a perfect season. The Mediterranean climate is very well suited for fruits, vegetables, and flowers. The flowers have to be seen to be believed! Every inch of available space has plants and you can see maybe a square foot of land with about 50 varieties of flowers of different colours. Lime and orange trees grow by the roadside and in spring, they're full of fruit. When the sea breeze sets in the evening, the aroma is intoxicating.
Where we stayed was the heart of Nicosia, just off the main road called Makarios Avenue, in a street called Dramas. Our apartment was on the 7th floor, and every window in every room overlooked the mountains in the distance. The sunsets were breathtaking (the sunrises also, I suppose, but I never rose with the sun to look). About 2 to 3 km from where we stayed is the Town Square, a local hangout - much like MG Road but a lot cleaner and not as crowded. No traffic is allowed in the Square, so there's only foot traffic. It's a block of area covered with hundreds of shops and yummy eateries. At the end of the Town Square is a memorial for the soldiers who died during the Turkish invasion of 1974. Just behind the Memorial is a wall with steps leading up. If you climb up and peep across, you can see where Turkish Cyprus begins. It's heavily patrolled by soldiers who're such hunks!
Nicosia doesn't have an airport. It did have an international airport until recently when the UN took it over, so it's not open to civil air traffic. The airport is at Larnaka, a city about 50 km from Nicosia. It's a good thing because the ride from Larnaka to Nicosia is absolutely stunning! The airport is right next to the Mediterranean, so when you descend, the view is awesome. On the other side are the mountains (if you have a good imagination, it'll help because no words can do justice to this sight).
The Mediterranean is a lovely colour. Ink blue in the middle, copper sulfate as it shallows off, and peacock green where the shores start. It's a very friendly sea, calm, blue, and very safe. You'll never see here the huge rolling crashing waves that you see in the other oceans. It's an ideal place to learn deep see diving and snorkelling and the beach towns have lessons for tourists - if you camp at a beach twon, it's irresistible, but we only visited the beaches, never stayed overnight anywhere.
The most beautiful was the Agia Napa (pronounced ayya-napa) beach town. It's the hottest tourist destination of all the beaches in Cyprus. It's spic and span, has lovely beachfront hotels and cottages, beautiful flowers and trees, great eateries, and deadly shops. The beach road is heavenly. You can spend hours just sitting on the benches on the beach road and watching life buzz around. We visited two other beaches - Pafos which is on the west and Kurion (also called Curium) which is on the way to Pafos. We visited Curium first. The road to Curium is cut through a hill and the terrain is very unpredictable on the other side. Sometimes, it flattens off into plains and sometimes it's just a sheer drop. We were travelling with friends who live in Limassol and have travelled the road many times. They stopped the car abruptly and told us to get out and take a look....we gasped! There was the Mediterranean!! It's beauty when you see it from the hill is indescribable. From where we were standing on the hill, we could see cars parked right almost to where the waves can lap on the tyres. It's not much of a beach when you actually get to Pafos. It's a very small strip and it's not as glamourous as Agia Napa. Hardly anyone goes to Curium I heard and I had to wonder why! It's not marketed as a tourist spot like Agia Napa, so it's probably the best place to go. We had a great time on Curium beach. Hardly anyone was around and the water was fantastic. Because we got there around 4, the sun was directly overhead, the water was lukewarm and the loveliest blue I've ever seen. It was then I noticed how the water looks a different colour at each beach. By the time we reached Pafos, it had started to get very cloudy and misty, so we missed the sunset which is apparently an unforgettable sight if you see it. Pafos is not much of a beach at all. It has rocks going out into the Mediterranean and you can go quite a bit into the sea. On our way back from Pafos, we stopped at a Pakistani restaurant (if you're in Europe, a Pakistani restaurant is home!!) called Pine Tree. It's right next to one of the two British bases in Cyprus. The minute you get out of the car, a very strong aroma of pine hits you - it's very sharp and refreshing. It's a small place and Asians are very welcome. No one cares where you're from. The food is lovely.
The Cypriot food is superlative if you're a non-veggy. If you're a grasseater like yours sincerely, you don't have too much choice. The traditional Cypriot meal is something called a Mezze which is (get ready!) a 30-course meal...yes! 30-COURSE! We weren't adventurous enough to try it. It's got lots of meats, vegetables, fish, bread, and fruit. They eat a lot of wheat products but rice is also available. You have food products from all over the world on that tiny island.
The Cypriots are great drinkers (my kind of folks!) The Cyprus White Wine is quite a hot favourite in the Mediterranean. They have 4 major breweries and KEO and SODAP are 2 of the most famous. KEO beer is as delicious as they come but their wines are even better- they have a real kick, especially their red wines. They drink a lot of coffee too! Every kind of tea in the world is available, but they're great coffee drinkers (my kind of folks again!). The Greek coffee is a must on all menus. It's very strong, made without milk, and is simply yummy! Traditional Cypriot sweets are apparenly very very sugary - I tasted just one kind, very masrshmallowy in texture.
Kakopetria is a lovely little mountain village tucked away in the Troodos mountain range. It's bang in the mountains and a tourist bomb. It's actualy just a 3-road job - you walk up and down twice and you've seen the entire village. People who're trekking up to Troodos stop here on their way up. Troodos is a very rare mountain in that it's heavily snow capped and brightly sunlit at the same time giving it an almost surreal look. There are cozy little pubs and eateries in Kakopetria and dozens of souvenir and traditional handicraft shops. Cypriot handicrafts are not so great if you're going from India. It's difficult to get very excited with plain-looking pottery and metal and leather work after you've seen the intricacies of Indian handicraft, but I suppose they'll do for the Western traveller.
Cyprus is an unforgettable experience - and one you'd like to experience over again.
Cyprus is a Mediterranean Island. It's called the Island of Venus, Island of the Sun, Island of Aphrodite, hundreds of names really but nothing does justice to this charming place. Locally, it's called Kypru. The population is about 700,000 (less than Bangalore!) It's history is complicated and interesting but it's most recent influences have been Turkish, British, and of course Greek. It's been colonised just like us, and everyone speaks English. The people are warm and friendly and very interested in India. Cyprus is located in a commercial hotspot - a Mediterranean port close to 3 continents: Asia, Africa, and Europe but they don't export much....mainly oranges. They import everything from everywhere.
Where we stayed was Nicosia, the capital city, locally known as Lefkosia. It's perfect to a fault, very picturesque, very neat and tidy, very laid back, and very very safe. The best way to see the city is by foot (I suppose that's the best way to see any place). Nicosia is the last divided capital city in the world. My bedroom had a view of this mountain with a huge crescent moon painted on the backdrop of a flag...that's where Turkish Cyprus begins. The Turks and Greeks hate each other with a passion that makes the Indo-Pak rivalry look like a romance. Though they're just across the border, they couldn't be more different.
Greek Cyprus (where we stayed) is more influenced by Europe. It's currency is the pound, and it's value in terms of Indian rupees would be around 77, but these people don't trade in the international market so if you crossed the border with a pound, it's as good as used tissue - absolutely worthless. This side of the fence, unemployment is almost nil, crime rate is 0, and the standard of living very high. They speak Greek. it's a very safe place. You can leave your house unlocked and go on a vacation and come back and nothing will be missing. You can safely walk around at 2 in the morning without worrying about being mugged. You don't have to worry about the taxis taking you for a ride (no pun), your pocket being picked, or your property being trespassed. The Turks I heard are everything the Greeks are not. There's rampant poverty and unemployment, and naturally, crime.
Nicosia is a beautiful city. When we landed, it was spring, a perfect season. The Mediterranean climate is very well suited for fruits, vegetables, and flowers. The flowers have to be seen to be believed! Every inch of available space has plants and you can see maybe a square foot of land with about 50 varieties of flowers of different colours. Lime and orange trees grow by the roadside and in spring, they're full of fruit. When the sea breeze sets in the evening, the aroma is intoxicating.
Where we stayed was the heart of Nicosia, just off the main road called Makarios Avenue, in a street called Dramas. Our apartment was on the 7th floor, and every window in every room overlooked the mountains in the distance. The sunsets were breathtaking (the sunrises also, I suppose, but I never rose with the sun to look). About 2 to 3 km from where we stayed is the Town Square, a local hangout - much like MG Road but a lot cleaner and not as crowded. No traffic is allowed in the Square, so there's only foot traffic. It's a block of area covered with hundreds of shops and yummy eateries. At the end of the Town Square is a memorial for the soldiers who died during the Turkish invasion of 1974. Just behind the Memorial is a wall with steps leading up. If you climb up and peep across, you can see where Turkish Cyprus begins. It's heavily patrolled by soldiers who're such hunks!
Nicosia doesn't have an airport. It did have an international airport until recently when the UN took it over, so it's not open to civil air traffic. The airport is at Larnaka, a city about 50 km from Nicosia. It's a good thing because the ride from Larnaka to Nicosia is absolutely stunning! The airport is right next to the Mediterranean, so when you descend, the view is awesome. On the other side are the mountains (if you have a good imagination, it'll help because no words can do justice to this sight).
The Mediterranean is a lovely colour. Ink blue in the middle, copper sulfate as it shallows off, and peacock green where the shores start. It's a very friendly sea, calm, blue, and very safe. You'll never see here the huge rolling crashing waves that you see in the other oceans. It's an ideal place to learn deep see diving and snorkelling and the beach towns have lessons for tourists - if you camp at a beach twon, it's irresistible, but we only visited the beaches, never stayed overnight anywhere.
The most beautiful was the Agia Napa (pronounced ayya-napa) beach town. It's the hottest tourist destination of all the beaches in Cyprus. It's spic and span, has lovely beachfront hotels and cottages, beautiful flowers and trees, great eateries, and deadly shops. The beach road is heavenly. You can spend hours just sitting on the benches on the beach road and watching life buzz around. We visited two other beaches - Pafos which is on the west and Kurion (also called Curium) which is on the way to Pafos. We visited Curium first. The road to Curium is cut through a hill and the terrain is very unpredictable on the other side. Sometimes, it flattens off into plains and sometimes it's just a sheer drop. We were travelling with friends who live in Limassol and have travelled the road many times. They stopped the car abruptly and told us to get out and take a look....we gasped! There was the Mediterranean!! It's beauty when you see it from the hill is indescribable. From where we were standing on the hill, we could see cars parked right almost to where the waves can lap on the tyres. It's not much of a beach when you actually get to Pafos. It's a very small strip and it's not as glamourous as Agia Napa. Hardly anyone goes to Curium I heard and I had to wonder why! It's not marketed as a tourist spot like Agia Napa, so it's probably the best place to go. We had a great time on Curium beach. Hardly anyone was around and the water was fantastic. Because we got there around 4, the sun was directly overhead, the water was lukewarm and the loveliest blue I've ever seen. It was then I noticed how the water looks a different colour at each beach. By the time we reached Pafos, it had started to get very cloudy and misty, so we missed the sunset which is apparently an unforgettable sight if you see it. Pafos is not much of a beach at all. It has rocks going out into the Mediterranean and you can go quite a bit into the sea. On our way back from Pafos, we stopped at a Pakistani restaurant (if you're in Europe, a Pakistani restaurant is home!!) called Pine Tree. It's right next to one of the two British bases in Cyprus. The minute you get out of the car, a very strong aroma of pine hits you - it's very sharp and refreshing. It's a small place and Asians are very welcome. No one cares where you're from. The food is lovely.
The Cypriot food is superlative if you're a non-veggy. If you're a grasseater like yours sincerely, you don't have too much choice. The traditional Cypriot meal is something called a Mezze which is (get ready!) a 30-course meal...yes! 30-COURSE! We weren't adventurous enough to try it. It's got lots of meats, vegetables, fish, bread, and fruit. They eat a lot of wheat products but rice is also available. You have food products from all over the world on that tiny island.
The Cypriots are great drinkers (my kind of folks!) The Cyprus White Wine is quite a hot favourite in the Mediterranean. They have 4 major breweries and KEO and SODAP are 2 of the most famous. KEO beer is as delicious as they come but their wines are even better- they have a real kick, especially their red wines. They drink a lot of coffee too! Every kind of tea in the world is available, but they're great coffee drinkers (my kind of folks again!). The Greek coffee is a must on all menus. It's very strong, made without milk, and is simply yummy! Traditional Cypriot sweets are apparenly very very sugary - I tasted just one kind, very masrshmallowy in texture.
Kakopetria is a lovely little mountain village tucked away in the Troodos mountain range. It's bang in the mountains and a tourist bomb. It's actualy just a 3-road job - you walk up and down twice and you've seen the entire village. People who're trekking up to Troodos stop here on their way up. Troodos is a very rare mountain in that it's heavily snow capped and brightly sunlit at the same time giving it an almost surreal look. There are cozy little pubs and eateries in Kakopetria and dozens of souvenir and traditional handicraft shops. Cypriot handicrafts are not so great if you're going from India. It's difficult to get very excited with plain-looking pottery and metal and leather work after you've seen the intricacies of Indian handicraft, but I suppose they'll do for the Western traveller.
Cyprus is an unforgettable experience - and one you'd like to experience over again.
You Can't Get Out of Here, You Know
Scrape...scrape...scratch..tap...tap. A bandicoot. No, maybe a cat...or is it? Glllubb...gluubb...clink...clink...metal on wood, or was it glass on metal? No, this was not a four-legged animal. Footsteps...
She got up slowly from her bed and tiptoed quietly to the stairway. She saw him. His back was to her. He had lit a candle and was looking for a place to put it down. She stood there studying him. He was getting impatient; he would surely drop something now. CRASH! The vase. He spun around instinctively and saw her. They stood looking at each other, her eyes calm, his jumping wildly around the room. He grabbed the telephone and snapped the line in a single motion. "It's been dead for a while now," her voice was soft and musical. He looked up startled. That was the last thing he had expected to hear. "Just give me what you have and I'll leave," he tried to make his voice sound menacing. 'After I slit your throat,' he thought to himself. "There's nothing here," she said calmly. He looked at her closely. She was very beautiful and trying to be very brave.
He started up the stairs. "Where's the safe?" She moved to make way. "I've just been burgled," she said as he passed her on the stairs. He laughed. He'd heard everything else. There were two rooms on this floor, both closed. He opened the first door and went into the room. Except for a cot, there was nothing there. She stood at the entrance watching him. Why was she not screaming for help or something? "I told you...I've just been burgled 3 days ago," she said quietly. "Look, if you don't give me what you have, I'll kill you," he advanced threateningly. Terror crossed her face and she withdrew slightly. "I don't have a safe. All my valuables were in the living room, and he took everything - it's all gone, 3 days ago," she began to descend.
For the first time, he noticed the house was a mess. "Why haven't you straightened it out?" he asked before he could stop himself. 'This is crazy!' he thought. 'I came to clean up this place and I'm having a conversation with the resident!' He hadn't even expected anyone to be in. He'd been casing the joint for 3 days now and it had seemed unoccupied. He suddenly remembered he had seen 2 rooms upstairs but had only gone into one of them. He turned to go back up.
"Where are you going?" she followed him. He ignored her and continued climbing. She followed him. They reached the closed door. "There's nothing in there you know," she said and he thought he detected a trace of sadness in her voice. He tried the door. It was locked. Ah-ha! So this is where the action was. "Give me the key," he demanded in a quietly menacing voice. To his surprise, she reached into her robe for the key and unlocked the door. She was neither as clever nor as brave as he had thought. "You can't get out of here, you know," she said sadly as he entered. He stood still. There was someone sleeping on a cot here. Now, he would have to kill both of them.
He looked down at the sleeping figure and his heart slammed against his rib cage. He jumped back from the cot as if he'd been punched. His eyes widened in terror and his mouth opened in a silent scream. It was her! He spun around. He was alone. They found his body the next day - only his body.
She got up slowly from her bed and tiptoed quietly to the stairway. She saw him. His back was to her. He had lit a candle and was looking for a place to put it down. She stood there studying him. He was getting impatient; he would surely drop something now. CRASH! The vase. He spun around instinctively and saw her. They stood looking at each other, her eyes calm, his jumping wildly around the room. He grabbed the telephone and snapped the line in a single motion. "It's been dead for a while now," her voice was soft and musical. He looked up startled. That was the last thing he had expected to hear. "Just give me what you have and I'll leave," he tried to make his voice sound menacing. 'After I slit your throat,' he thought to himself. "There's nothing here," she said calmly. He looked at her closely. She was very beautiful and trying to be very brave.
He started up the stairs. "Where's the safe?" She moved to make way. "I've just been burgled," she said as he passed her on the stairs. He laughed. He'd heard everything else. There were two rooms on this floor, both closed. He opened the first door and went into the room. Except for a cot, there was nothing there. She stood at the entrance watching him. Why was she not screaming for help or something? "I told you...I've just been burgled 3 days ago," she said quietly. "Look, if you don't give me what you have, I'll kill you," he advanced threateningly. Terror crossed her face and she withdrew slightly. "I don't have a safe. All my valuables were in the living room, and he took everything - it's all gone, 3 days ago," she began to descend.
For the first time, he noticed the house was a mess. "Why haven't you straightened it out?" he asked before he could stop himself. 'This is crazy!' he thought. 'I came to clean up this place and I'm having a conversation with the resident!' He hadn't even expected anyone to be in. He'd been casing the joint for 3 days now and it had seemed unoccupied. He suddenly remembered he had seen 2 rooms upstairs but had only gone into one of them. He turned to go back up.
"Where are you going?" she followed him. He ignored her and continued climbing. She followed him. They reached the closed door. "There's nothing in there you know," she said and he thought he detected a trace of sadness in her voice. He tried the door. It was locked. Ah-ha! So this is where the action was. "Give me the key," he demanded in a quietly menacing voice. To his surprise, she reached into her robe for the key and unlocked the door. She was neither as clever nor as brave as he had thought. "You can't get out of here, you know," she said sadly as he entered. He stood still. There was someone sleeping on a cot here. Now, he would have to kill both of them.
He looked down at the sleeping figure and his heart slammed against his rib cage. He jumped back from the cot as if he'd been punched. His eyes widened in terror and his mouth opened in a silent scream. It was her! He spun around. He was alone. They found his body the next day - only his body.
Oh, Blast!
One night, as we relaxed after dinner, we heard a huge explosion that rattled window panes and sent people pouring into the streets within seconds to locate the disaster area. To appreciate what I'm about to tell you, you'll need to know a little bit about my locality. It's just off a busy main road that boasts of half a dozen eateries always packed to the brim, video libraries, net cafes, a few small businesses and many other pretenders. Ours is a typical middle-class neighbourhood - small families (big quarrels), working single men and women, bored housewives, happy drunks - in short, a very ordinary neighbourhood with lots of action every day but all of us still convinced that we lead a quiet bored existence.
Into such a quiet and bored night was injected this aforementioned blast and the resulting outpour of human curiosity. Now, if such a thing were to ever happen in your neighbourhood, take my advice and do this - do nothing. Just stand by and watch a fascinating drama of humanity that will unravel itself; find a vantage point for your observation - from where you can watch two or three streets simultaneously. If you can move, unnoticed with the crowd, nothing like it. Here's what I saw:
From the convenience store at the corner of our street, emerged one of its owners, an affable bald man (now obviously distressed) walking rapidly and chanting in a low monotone to no one in particular: "What happened? What happened?" as he rushed into the first unlocked gates within sight - a block of the sprawling apartments nearby, and disappeared.
Next, a group of young men came charging down the street screaming, "Bomb! Bomb!" and turing the corner, raced out of sight excitedly. Following them were a band of young girls with their older female wards chattering animatedly. I stopped the group and asked "What happened?" "Sounds like a cylinder burst," one of the ladies ventured. A passerby picked it up and began running around screaming "cylinder burst, cylinder burst." This caused everyone to barge into the eateries on the main road which were all empty - because the crowd from the eateries were in front of an electronic gadgets shop guessing that to be the disaster site. The electronic gadgets shop was empty - they had set off to investigate the source of the blast too.
The entire crowd now charged into the next street loking for fire, smoke, blood, limbs, anything that would confirm a massive mysterious blast. They were met there by an equally huge crowd headed into our lane in hopes of finding similar carnage. Two drunks stumbling home met the excited crowd from both lanes and blabbered unsteadily, "Shumbudy shot the priminishter." Someone screamed, "Assassination!!" and everyone ran back into their homes to turn on their TV sets.
During all this time, there was one bewildered man following the crowd everywhere trying to get someone's attention. He kept saying "but please, listen to me.....listen to what I have to say...." but they rushed on mindlessly. Now that the street had emptied, I stopped the perplexed guy and popped the question "What happened?"
"I'm a truck driver," he said, "I was speeding down the road tonight and I ripped my tyre. I was trying to explain to these people that was the sound they heard."
Into such a quiet and bored night was injected this aforementioned blast and the resulting outpour of human curiosity. Now, if such a thing were to ever happen in your neighbourhood, take my advice and do this - do nothing. Just stand by and watch a fascinating drama of humanity that will unravel itself; find a vantage point for your observation - from where you can watch two or three streets simultaneously. If you can move, unnoticed with the crowd, nothing like it. Here's what I saw:
From the convenience store at the corner of our street, emerged one of its owners, an affable bald man (now obviously distressed) walking rapidly and chanting in a low monotone to no one in particular: "What happened? What happened?" as he rushed into the first unlocked gates within sight - a block of the sprawling apartments nearby, and disappeared.
Next, a group of young men came charging down the street screaming, "Bomb! Bomb!" and turing the corner, raced out of sight excitedly. Following them were a band of young girls with their older female wards chattering animatedly. I stopped the group and asked "What happened?" "Sounds like a cylinder burst," one of the ladies ventured. A passerby picked it up and began running around screaming "cylinder burst, cylinder burst." This caused everyone to barge into the eateries on the main road which were all empty - because the crowd from the eateries were in front of an electronic gadgets shop guessing that to be the disaster site. The electronic gadgets shop was empty - they had set off to investigate the source of the blast too.
The entire crowd now charged into the next street loking for fire, smoke, blood, limbs, anything that would confirm a massive mysterious blast. They were met there by an equally huge crowd headed into our lane in hopes of finding similar carnage. Two drunks stumbling home met the excited crowd from both lanes and blabbered unsteadily, "Shumbudy shot the priminishter." Someone screamed, "Assassination!!" and everyone ran back into their homes to turn on their TV sets.
During all this time, there was one bewildered man following the crowd everywhere trying to get someone's attention. He kept saying "but please, listen to me.....listen to what I have to say...." but they rushed on mindlessly. Now that the street had emptied, I stopped the perplexed guy and popped the question "What happened?"
"I'm a truck driver," he said, "I was speeding down the road tonight and I ripped my tyre. I was trying to explain to these people that was the sound they heard."
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
FRIENDS FOR LIFE
Time stretches like an eternal blanket of snow
Listening to Life's soft footfalls steady and low
And Memories, Life's companions in shadow
Imprint images on Time in a hazy glow
Hope, a tiny seed in the eternal blanket ensconced
In its icy warmth forms a lasting bond
And when Life begins to limp on the snow
And Joy's laughter is silenced by Sorrow
Hope springs from Time's embracing arms
To walk by Life's side and restore her lost charms
Dancing to Memories' bittersweet tunes so soft
Hope wakes Faith from slumber and holds her aloft
When Pain and Sorrow chase Life down Time's lane
When Hope falters and only Memories remain
Faith orders Courage to join the race
Time welcomes Courage into the chase
Life now with Courage, Faith, Memories and Hope
No longer runs or hides from Pain
Life is better equipped to cope
Hope, Memories, Faith, and Courage still remain
Time's precious gifts and friends for all
Because of them Life will rise after every fall.
Listening to Life's soft footfalls steady and low
And Memories, Life's companions in shadow
Imprint images on Time in a hazy glow
Hope, a tiny seed in the eternal blanket ensconced
In its icy warmth forms a lasting bond
And when Life begins to limp on the snow
And Joy's laughter is silenced by Sorrow
Hope springs from Time's embracing arms
To walk by Life's side and restore her lost charms
Dancing to Memories' bittersweet tunes so soft
Hope wakes Faith from slumber and holds her aloft
When Pain and Sorrow chase Life down Time's lane
When Hope falters and only Memories remain
Faith orders Courage to join the race
Time welcomes Courage into the chase
Life now with Courage, Faith, Memories and Hope
No longer runs or hides from Pain
Life is better equipped to cope
Hope, Memories, Faith, and Courage still remain
Time's precious gifts and friends for all
Because of them Life will rise after every fall.
Conversations
It was the in thing. Everybody did it and so did I. At the end of it, all of us had the same embossed certificate - AWARDED FOR THE SUCCESSFUL COMPLETION OF 'ART OF CONVERSATION AND UNDERSTANDING'. As I held the certificate unable to decide what I should feel, I saw someone I recognised from the neighbourhood. He was a queer being. Never spoke much, glared at everyone, and walked around menacingly. Some said he practised witchcraft; others said that was not strange - the whole world was doing it.
Anyway, a man had been murdered in our locality. Naturally, everyone was excited. One heard nothing else the whole day, so though surprised, I was not shocked when my neighbourhood apparition spoke:
HE: The knife was stuck into the forehead.
ME: And I heard there was froth all over the face.
HE: (Triumphantly) We licked it. I carved out the eye for myself. Most of the froth had settled there. Lucky! (he smacked his lips)
The bile rose in me and my legs turned to jelly and lead at the same time.
ME: (Weakly) Didn't you feel sick?
HE: You're joking! I managed to grab the hair....
I SCREAM...
HE: Delicious! It was dripping with the reddest blo....
I SCRRREEAMM....
HE: (Looking annoyed) But my friend got the whole tongue. Would've enjoyed a piece myself.
The scream never came and my stomach heaved.
HE: (Concerned) You look a little pale. The ear would've undoubtedly cured you (shrugs)....your loss (then, suddenly excited) The gums! How could I have forgotten the gums!! It was.....
I SCREEEEEEEAAAAMMMMMM
HE: (Impatiently) We'll have to do something about yoru screams...
I SSCCC....RRRRR....EEEEE.....AAAA....MMMMMMM
HE: (Suspciously) You're not jealous, are you..
ME: (Horrified) No! NO!
HE: You should be!
I dig my nails into my palm (to keep from screaming) till it bleeds.
HE: (Aghast) Your palms are bleeding!!
Now, I SCREEEAAMM.....HE SCREAMS.....
ME: (Shakily) But you're not scared of blood!!!??!!
HE: No, I'm not scared.....I'm TERRIFIED!
ME: But the hair you said was dripping with....
HE: (Perplexed) Bloody Mary? So what?
ME: (Wildly) The froth....!?!?
HE: (More perplexed) Champagne? So WHAT?
ME: (Hysterically) You ATE A FACE!!! You can't be....
HE: The B'day cake!?!? SO WHAAT?????
We stare at each other. We SSCCCRRREEEAAAMMMMM...
I stare down at my certificate stupidly and look at him. He's staring into his own folder. I look in and see an embossed certificate: AWARDED FOR THE SUCCESSFUL COMPLETION OF 'ART OF CONVERSATION AND UNDERSTANDING'.
Anyway, a man had been murdered in our locality. Naturally, everyone was excited. One heard nothing else the whole day, so though surprised, I was not shocked when my neighbourhood apparition spoke:
HE: The knife was stuck into the forehead.
ME: And I heard there was froth all over the face.
HE: (Triumphantly) We licked it. I carved out the eye for myself. Most of the froth had settled there. Lucky! (he smacked his lips)
The bile rose in me and my legs turned to jelly and lead at the same time.
ME: (Weakly) Didn't you feel sick?
HE: You're joking! I managed to grab the hair....
I SCREAM...
HE: Delicious! It was dripping with the reddest blo....
I SCRRREEAMM....
HE: (Looking annoyed) But my friend got the whole tongue. Would've enjoyed a piece myself.
The scream never came and my stomach heaved.
HE: (Concerned) You look a little pale. The ear would've undoubtedly cured you (shrugs)....your loss (then, suddenly excited) The gums! How could I have forgotten the gums!! It was.....
I SCREEEEEEEAAAAMMMMMM
HE: (Impatiently) We'll have to do something about yoru screams...
I SSCCC....RRRRR....EEEEE.....AAAA....MMMMMMM
HE: (Suspciously) You're not jealous, are you..
ME: (Horrified) No! NO!
HE: You should be!
I dig my nails into my palm (to keep from screaming) till it bleeds.
HE: (Aghast) Your palms are bleeding!!
Now, I SCREEEAAMM.....HE SCREAMS.....
ME: (Shakily) But you're not scared of blood!!!??!!
HE: No, I'm not scared.....I'm TERRIFIED!
ME: But the hair you said was dripping with....
HE: (Perplexed) Bloody Mary? So what?
ME: (Wildly) The froth....!?!?
HE: (More perplexed) Champagne? So WHAT?
ME: (Hysterically) You ATE A FACE!!! You can't be....
HE: The B'day cake!?!? SO WHAAT?????
We stare at each other. We SSCCCRRREEEAAAMMMMM...
I stare down at my certificate stupidly and look at him. He's staring into his own folder. I look in and see an embossed certificate: AWARDED FOR THE SUCCESSFUL COMPLETION OF 'ART OF CONVERSATION AND UNDERSTANDING'.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Directors' Special - Movies They'd Love to Make
Hillary Clinton: I Know What You Did Last Summer - starring Bill Clinton
Al Gore: Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon - George Bush, Sr., George Bush, Jr., and Jeb Bush
Manmohan Singh: Sheena, Queen of the Jungle - starring Sonia Gandhi
Kofi Annan: Who Let The Dogs Out - starring the Rest of the World
Bill Clinton: Last Action Hero - starring Bill Clinton
Osama Bin Laden: Fugitive - starring George Bush
Saddam Hussein: A Beautiful Mind - starring Osama Bin Laden
George Bush: While You Were Sleeping - starring Kofi Annan
Al Gore: Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon - George Bush, Sr., George Bush, Jr., and Jeb Bush
Manmohan Singh: Sheena, Queen of the Jungle - starring Sonia Gandhi
Kofi Annan: Who Let The Dogs Out - starring the Rest of the World
Bill Clinton: Last Action Hero - starring Bill Clinton
Osama Bin Laden: Fugitive - starring George Bush
Saddam Hussein: A Beautiful Mind - starring Osama Bin Laden
George Bush: While You Were Sleeping - starring Kofi Annan
By George! It's Osama!
In what is being touted as the mother of all coups d'etat in the living memory of mankind, Osama Bin Laden has replaced George Bush as the President of America in a bloodless power transfer. One of Osama's trusted lieutenants went live on CNN to announce to a gasping world that Osama out of "generosity of spirit" decided to rid the American people in particular and mankind in general of the "war-mongering dimwit." Apparently, Dick Cheney continues to be vice president till such time that he can be located, identified, and stripped of his post. President Fidel Castro became the first head of state to congratulate the new president.
Bin Laden has managed to deal a body blow to Republicans and Democrats alike with his astounding announcement that he enlisted the help of former President Bill Clinton for his unchallenged takeover. "Bill was the natural choice in our campaign to restore dignity to the office of the president," Osama told the gathering of correspondents. Bill Clinton was unavailable for comment.
Former President of the United States of Iraq, Saddam Hussein, dissolved into peals of uncontrolled laughter when asked to comment on the developments and had to be helped into his car by his bodyguards.
After close to 6 years of running around like a headless chicken and multiple occasions of shooting himself in the foot, President Bush had proved beyond reasonable doubt that he was America's only president to have been both a stand-up comic and a walking menace at the same time. Even the most eccentric presidents in the past have earned only one of the two sobriquets during their tenure.
Bin Laden's first task is apparently to bring the former president to justice for his crimes against humanity. An astonishing 386 crimes have been attributed to Bush including letting loose Dick Cheney and Arnold Unspellable-Last-Name on an unsuspecting American public - "A nerve gas would be less lethal," Osama has been quoted as saying. When asked to comment, Jeb Bush said, "I want a re-count."
When one of the reporters asked Osama where he had been all this time, the president fixed him with a chilling stare and dead-panned, "Right here...all this time."
When asked for his reaction, Jacques Chirac smirked, "Did you ask Tony?" Meanwhile, the BBC reports that Tony Blair has offered to volunatrily give up his office "to anyone of Usama's choice" in exchange for safe passage into Trinidad and Tobago. "One is annoyed," was all Prince Charles would say. The BBC will air a 1-hour discussion with a panel of eminent journalists to decide whether the Prince is annoyed with Blair, Bin Laden, or Bush (5:30 GMT).
Around the world, reactions have ranged from "shock and awe" to outright disbelief. "I don't believe it, matey," the Australian premier drawled, "but if it's true, congratulations to both of them - at last they found each other. I suppose, now we can all get on with our lives," the jolly premier finished. India and Pakistan are having a joint closed-door meeting to decide how they should react.
President Bush apparently hightailed it from his Texas ranch when news reached him that the White House had a new occupant. "A manhunt is on for the fugitive. Briefing's over" Osama said before walking back into his new office followed by a lady looking distinctly like Hillary Clinton.
Bin Laden has managed to deal a body blow to Republicans and Democrats alike with his astounding announcement that he enlisted the help of former President Bill Clinton for his unchallenged takeover. "Bill was the natural choice in our campaign to restore dignity to the office of the president," Osama told the gathering of correspondents. Bill Clinton was unavailable for comment.
Former President of the United States of Iraq, Saddam Hussein, dissolved into peals of uncontrolled laughter when asked to comment on the developments and had to be helped into his car by his bodyguards.
After close to 6 years of running around like a headless chicken and multiple occasions of shooting himself in the foot, President Bush had proved beyond reasonable doubt that he was America's only president to have been both a stand-up comic and a walking menace at the same time. Even the most eccentric presidents in the past have earned only one of the two sobriquets during their tenure.
Bin Laden's first task is apparently to bring the former president to justice for his crimes against humanity. An astonishing 386 crimes have been attributed to Bush including letting loose Dick Cheney and Arnold Unspellable-Last-Name on an unsuspecting American public - "A nerve gas would be less lethal," Osama has been quoted as saying. When asked to comment, Jeb Bush said, "I want a re-count."
When one of the reporters asked Osama where he had been all this time, the president fixed him with a chilling stare and dead-panned, "Right here...all this time."
When asked for his reaction, Jacques Chirac smirked, "Did you ask Tony?" Meanwhile, the BBC reports that Tony Blair has offered to volunatrily give up his office "to anyone of Usama's choice" in exchange for safe passage into Trinidad and Tobago. "One is annoyed," was all Prince Charles would say. The BBC will air a 1-hour discussion with a panel of eminent journalists to decide whether the Prince is annoyed with Blair, Bin Laden, or Bush (5:30 GMT).
Around the world, reactions have ranged from "shock and awe" to outright disbelief. "I don't believe it, matey," the Australian premier drawled, "but if it's true, congratulations to both of them - at last they found each other. I suppose, now we can all get on with our lives," the jolly premier finished. India and Pakistan are having a joint closed-door meeting to decide how they should react.
President Bush apparently hightailed it from his Texas ranch when news reached him that the White House had a new occupant. "A manhunt is on for the fugitive. Briefing's over" Osama said before walking back into his new office followed by a lady looking distinctly like Hillary Clinton.
Most Significant Event of 2004
President George W (as in Way to go!) Bush's reelection: Thanks to a forgetably obscure campaign by John What's-His-Name, President Bush is back in the driver's seat for another joy ride. So, sit back, ladies and gentlemen, for 4 more years of drunken driving. By the way, DUIs are now legal in America. Driving under the influence of - well, certainly not Diet Coke - has never been this much fun. As the rebel without a cause gets ready for his January swearing (make that "swearing-in" if you're very particular), America's Intelligence Chief Porter Goss (that's his real name!) has a major problem on his hands - in his own words: "Now where did we put Cheney?" Apparently, Porter Goss (pronounced Tee Hee) and his men locked up blink-and-you'll-miss-me Cheney in a bunker at an undisclosed location and threw away the keys. Now, no one can remember where they put him. He could be anywhere, from Abu Ghraib to Guantanamo Bay - they've been so busy locking up people of late - and he doesn't even know yet that he's still Veep because the one thing Goss' men are certain of is that there was no television in that bunker. Dubya is, however, confident Cheney will show up "on someone's radar" when his ICD reaches its elective replacement indicator.
Meanwhile, Mama Bush is planning a book release. The book was jointly co-authored by her husband, the real McCoy. Titled "Grow Up, Junior" the book has been signed by 131 heads of state excluding the Japanese Emperor who's still sulking over Junior's refusal to endorse the Kyoto Treaty. In what is fast heading to be a decade-long sulk, the Emperor bowed deeply and refused to sign. He hasn't forgotten Hiroshima either, and he wasn't exactly thrilled with the Bobby Fischer fiasco too (he has some serious problems, this Emperor), especially the insinuation that Fischer was hiding all these years in Japan. Japan is roughly as big as my office lunchroom. Where do you hide in Japan?!? Bobby Fischer (to jog your memory) defied mighty Uncle Sam to travel to Yugoslavia (now it's called something else, and it's somewhere else) in 1992 to play chess with Boris Spassky. When US authorities served notice on him for violating a ban, he did the sanest thing he could think of: He spat on the paper and tore it up and told them, very calmly, to take a hike. He then continued with his chess. Then, he got married and went to Japan to live happily ever after. Japan let him in only because of his new bride. Chivalry, as we all know, is dead everywhere else except in Japan.
Anyway, back to the book. When asked by reporters what she would do differently if she had a second chance at raising her son, Mama Bush said, rather quaintly, "well, I'd be more careful, you know. He's been dropped on his head more than a couple of times when he was little." Now, there's an honest confession that explains a LOT of things.
The other significant event of 2004 was the naming of the Madurai Meenakshi temple in India as one of the Wonders of the World. So, India's contribution to the Wonders of the World is now the Taj, the Temple, and Lalu Prasad Yadav. Let's drink to that! Cheers! And Happy New Year, Everyone.
Meanwhile, Mama Bush is planning a book release. The book was jointly co-authored by her husband, the real McCoy. Titled "Grow Up, Junior" the book has been signed by 131 heads of state excluding the Japanese Emperor who's still sulking over Junior's refusal to endorse the Kyoto Treaty. In what is fast heading to be a decade-long sulk, the Emperor bowed deeply and refused to sign. He hasn't forgotten Hiroshima either, and he wasn't exactly thrilled with the Bobby Fischer fiasco too (he has some serious problems, this Emperor), especially the insinuation that Fischer was hiding all these years in Japan. Japan is roughly as big as my office lunchroom. Where do you hide in Japan?!? Bobby Fischer (to jog your memory) defied mighty Uncle Sam to travel to Yugoslavia (now it's called something else, and it's somewhere else) in 1992 to play chess with Boris Spassky. When US authorities served notice on him for violating a ban, he did the sanest thing he could think of: He spat on the paper and tore it up and told them, very calmly, to take a hike. He then continued with his chess. Then, he got married and went to Japan to live happily ever after. Japan let him in only because of his new bride. Chivalry, as we all know, is dead everywhere else except in Japan.
Anyway, back to the book. When asked by reporters what she would do differently if she had a second chance at raising her son, Mama Bush said, rather quaintly, "well, I'd be more careful, you know. He's been dropped on his head more than a couple of times when he was little." Now, there's an honest confession that explains a LOT of things.
The other significant event of 2004 was the naming of the Madurai Meenakshi temple in India as one of the Wonders of the World. So, India's contribution to the Wonders of the World is now the Taj, the Temple, and Lalu Prasad Yadav. Let's drink to that! Cheers! And Happy New Year, Everyone.
THE HUMBLE MONKEY STANDS UP TO BE COUNTED
"O, hear me all ye mortals, I have something important to say,
(Ignore this precarious coconut tree perch)
I just met Darwin the other day.
I said to him, 'Sir, I believe in Adaptive Radiation..'
To which, he drew himself up and replied rather impressively, 'Sir...' (yes, he called me that)
'Your posishun in the scheme of evolushun is a rung below mine,'
(He scratched his beard, perhaps for a simian touch)
'Besmirch not my reputashun, Mankind likes me fine.'
(When his brow knitted, I had to wonder whether we were separated by a rung at all)
'Hear me, dear ancestor,' I said, 'I've been here longer than you,
I've spoken to the dinosaur, I've spoken to the dodo, and to the cockroach too.'
(When he gnashed his teeth, I had to wonder whether our rungs had been exchanged.)
'No debate shall ensue, Sir,' he thundered
'My theory has survived religion
Sparring with you will consign to oblivion
All previous records establushed by our class
For descent from the sublime to the ridiculass.'
(When he snorted, I had to wonder whether your class had descended from the bull)
'O, hear me all ye mortals, I have something important to say
I tried to tell Darwin I agreed with him but I happened to lose my way
And when I lost myself, I found the Truth
And the Truth has set me free:
I challenge his theory of Variashun
(Men are all alike, you see)
I refute his allegations of Overproducshun
(My class is a dwindling populashun)
With his "Struggle for Existence" theory, I totally agree
But I still have a problem with the "Survival of the Fittest"
(The extinct dinosaur has put that to the test)
O, hear me all ye mortals
No race has survived so well like your own
(But certainly, your class is not the fittest in town)
Prophets proclaim "the meek shall inherit the earth one day"
In Darwin's absence, please allow me my say:
(Darwin is busy, now Mars needs a theory of evolushun)
All things considered, man is as timid as a mouse
(Except, of course, maybe in his own house)
So, the meek have already inherited the earth
(In our Animal Kingdom, your class is the object of much mirth)
And, Eureka! Religion did win after all
Despite Darwin's claims so tall."
(Ignore this precarious coconut tree perch)
I just met Darwin the other day.
I said to him, 'Sir, I believe in Adaptive Radiation..'
To which, he drew himself up and replied rather impressively, 'Sir...' (yes, he called me that)
'Your posishun in the scheme of evolushun is a rung below mine,'
(He scratched his beard, perhaps for a simian touch)
'Besmirch not my reputashun, Mankind likes me fine.'
(When his brow knitted, I had to wonder whether we were separated by a rung at all)
'Hear me, dear ancestor,' I said, 'I've been here longer than you,
I've spoken to the dinosaur, I've spoken to the dodo, and to the cockroach too.'
(When he gnashed his teeth, I had to wonder whether our rungs had been exchanged.)
'No debate shall ensue, Sir,' he thundered
'My theory has survived religion
Sparring with you will consign to oblivion
All previous records establushed by our class
For descent from the sublime to the ridiculass.'
(When he snorted, I had to wonder whether your class had descended from the bull)
'O, hear me all ye mortals, I have something important to say
I tried to tell Darwin I agreed with him but I happened to lose my way
And when I lost myself, I found the Truth
And the Truth has set me free:
I challenge his theory of Variashun
(Men are all alike, you see)
I refute his allegations of Overproducshun
(My class is a dwindling populashun)
With his "Struggle for Existence" theory, I totally agree
But I still have a problem with the "Survival of the Fittest"
(The extinct dinosaur has put that to the test)
O, hear me all ye mortals
No race has survived so well like your own
(But certainly, your class is not the fittest in town)
Prophets proclaim "the meek shall inherit the earth one day"
In Darwin's absence, please allow me my say:
(Darwin is busy, now Mars needs a theory of evolushun)
All things considered, man is as timid as a mouse
(Except, of course, maybe in his own house)
So, the meek have already inherited the earth
(In our Animal Kingdom, your class is the object of much mirth)
And, Eureka! Religion did win after all
Despite Darwin's claims so tall."
FIVE MINUTES IN ETERNITY
Time is a palmed gurgle of water from the ocean
That slithers through your fingers back to eternity - its home
Time is a myth, an unfettered notion
That you measure in joys and sorrows your own
Faith is the sun that unhurriedly warms every shore
Faith is the lunar light that equals all
Our Faith brought us together long before
Our different Gods divided our religious call
To find that Faith-touched peace that we seek
With unspoken hope and undying dreams - in unity
Time indulges us a New Year - so to speak
A year that is, but five minutes in eternity
Five minutes for your summer, five minutes for your spring
Five minutes for your winter and for your fall
Into these five minutes, will you not bring
Your faith, your hope, your courage - your all?
That slithers through your fingers back to eternity - its home
Time is a myth, an unfettered notion
That you measure in joys and sorrows your own
Faith is the sun that unhurriedly warms every shore
Faith is the lunar light that equals all
Our Faith brought us together long before
Our different Gods divided our religious call
To find that Faith-touched peace that we seek
With unspoken hope and undying dreams - in unity
Time indulges us a New Year - so to speak
A year that is, but five minutes in eternity
Five minutes for your summer, five minutes for your spring
Five minutes for your winter and for your fall
Into these five minutes, will you not bring
Your faith, your hope, your courage - your all?
A Wedding and Other Hair-Raising Events in God's Own Country
I'm sure you've seen the Samsung ad with it's large-hearted tagline "Everyone's Invited". That, in a gist, is a Kerala wedding - everyone's invited - and unlike in the ad, they'll all show up. The last time I attended a wedding in Kerala was 16 years ago when, if nothing else, age was on my side. 16 years later, on the wrong side of 30, the lethal combination of rain, heat, noise, and crowds to rival the best attended soccer matches prove a little too much for my feeble heart. It puts me in a perpetual state of near syncope for the entire duration of my stay.
There is one thing, however, to be said for weddings in the temple town of Guruvayoor (where my cousin took the plunge). Even if you're permanently lost, like I was, you'll get to attend SOME wedding - like I did - because there are so many happening on the day one of your own decides to seal his fate. I lost the crowd I was with (my mother's family that is roughly the size of two cricket teams with extras) which is very easy to do and ended up gazing at the bridegroom wondering if my handsome cousin's face could be so rearranged within 24 hours.
"Baaaangloooor allllaaayy ??" someone screeched while grabbing my hand and I spun around to face an all-32 grin that belonged to the owner of the eardrum-shattering voice. I laughed inspite of myself. In Kerala, everyone (specially people you meet for the first time in your life) will squeeze your hand, pat your cheek, and stroke your hair and if you're the touch-me-not sort, the experience can be quite....well, touching. Her smile was infectious and I happily let her take my hand and lead me back to where, she thought, I belonged - the mob that I'd been trying to lose ever since landing. On the way, she reeled off everything she knew about me (which was no surprise because by now I knew that people you've never seen before and probably will never see again know more about you than yourself) - from my vital statistics down to what I had had for breakfast that morning. Some of her facts were naturally completely divorced from reality, but who cares - I was having a ball!
The one thing that you absolutely do not want to be in a Kerala wedding is a single over-the-hill woman. You're a sitting duck (or a moving target - take your pick) for every whacko jacko and his mom, especially his mom, who has come to take a peek at you because her daughter's brother-in-law's aunt's husband's second cousin told her to.......but she's very suspicious that you're not married at such a ripe old age. She also thinks all Bangalore girls are "fast." She wants to know if you're: A. Mentally challenged. B. Physically challenged. C. Cannot have children. D. Recently ditched. E. All of the above. F. If others, please specify. You want to tell her where she should go with a one-way ticket that you'd be happy to buy for her, but she can't understand your language and you can understand hers perfectly.
Temples or temple weddings, however, are not the most divine experiences in God's Own Country - being a passenger in any mode of transport is. It's divine because you'll pray to every God you know as you shut your eyes tightly and nearly kill yourself holding your breath. Every male driver on the road (this includes all the males in my family too) is a maniac. The morning of the wedding, I opened the paper and caught the news that 5 employees of the Indian Oil Refinery were smashed to smithereens in their car that collided head on with a bus. There was a photo of the car - it looked like a dismantled jigsaw puzzle that you could pack into your overnight bag and carry effortlessly. With this vivid picture and all the gory details of how the occupants were scraped free fresh in my head, I board Cinimol (isn't that cute !) In Kerala, buses have names, not numbers. Cinimol is a benign looking bus......till it starts moving. On the back of the bus is emblazoned "CONCORD" in a fiery red which the fiend behind the wheel seriously believes. As he hurtles down the road at breakneck speed, he defies every law, every rule, every force of nature and gravity known to man. I pray incessantly and I thank God I'm in the bus and not out of it .....on the road.....in his way; if that happens, I'll only have enough time to hope that God doesn't run buses in Paradise.
When I alight, my internal organs are dancing to their own tunes as they try to find their spot to settle down. Cinimol races with Ranjinee's (not my punctuation or spelling) who's in turn racing with Highness (as opposed to ?) and they're all trying to catch up with Sleeba (I swear I'm not making this up). I marvel that there are no bodies piled up on the streets. I promise myself never to ever again curse Bangalore drivers who're such lambs in comparison.
"Road Clossed" (not my spelling) the sign says. It's a challenge too inviting to pass up for my auto driver. At first I think he doesn't know English (or he knows better English), so I ask him "closed alllaayyy??" He looks at me and laughs and says it's been closed since 1947 and he's been using it for roughly the same period. I want to scream, "but where is the road?" but I underestimate this champion driver. He's already delivered me to my destination in one piece - as usual, I wasn't looking. I feel like falling on my knees and thanking him.
When it's time to leave, I don't want to go. This is a pace of life that is forgotten in my world (if you forget the traffic part). People have time for you here. They're interested in what you say. They're simple, they're great hosts, and there are some parts of their human spirit that are still unspoiled by my world - just like their beautiful land. Most of all, they're open - what you see is what you get. I want to stay, but I can't.....of course, I'll always go back.....to my second home.
There is one thing, however, to be said for weddings in the temple town of Guruvayoor (where my cousin took the plunge). Even if you're permanently lost, like I was, you'll get to attend SOME wedding - like I did - because there are so many happening on the day one of your own decides to seal his fate. I lost the crowd I was with (my mother's family that is roughly the size of two cricket teams with extras) which is very easy to do and ended up gazing at the bridegroom wondering if my handsome cousin's face could be so rearranged within 24 hours.
"Baaaangloooor allllaaayy ??" someone screeched while grabbing my hand and I spun around to face an all-32 grin that belonged to the owner of the eardrum-shattering voice. I laughed inspite of myself. In Kerala, everyone (specially people you meet for the first time in your life) will squeeze your hand, pat your cheek, and stroke your hair and if you're the touch-me-not sort, the experience can be quite....well, touching. Her smile was infectious and I happily let her take my hand and lead me back to where, she thought, I belonged - the mob that I'd been trying to lose ever since landing. On the way, she reeled off everything she knew about me (which was no surprise because by now I knew that people you've never seen before and probably will never see again know more about you than yourself) - from my vital statistics down to what I had had for breakfast that morning. Some of her facts were naturally completely divorced from reality, but who cares - I was having a ball!
The one thing that you absolutely do not want to be in a Kerala wedding is a single over-the-hill woman. You're a sitting duck (or a moving target - take your pick) for every whacko jacko and his mom, especially his mom, who has come to take a peek at you because her daughter's brother-in-law's aunt's husband's second cousin told her to.......but she's very suspicious that you're not married at such a ripe old age. She also thinks all Bangalore girls are "fast." She wants to know if you're: A. Mentally challenged. B. Physically challenged. C. Cannot have children. D. Recently ditched. E. All of the above. F. If others, please specify. You want to tell her where she should go with a one-way ticket that you'd be happy to buy for her, but she can't understand your language and you can understand hers perfectly.
Temples or temple weddings, however, are not the most divine experiences in God's Own Country - being a passenger in any mode of transport is. It's divine because you'll pray to every God you know as you shut your eyes tightly and nearly kill yourself holding your breath. Every male driver on the road (this includes all the males in my family too) is a maniac. The morning of the wedding, I opened the paper and caught the news that 5 employees of the Indian Oil Refinery were smashed to smithereens in their car that collided head on with a bus. There was a photo of the car - it looked like a dismantled jigsaw puzzle that you could pack into your overnight bag and carry effortlessly. With this vivid picture and all the gory details of how the occupants were scraped free fresh in my head, I board Cinimol (isn't that cute !) In Kerala, buses have names, not numbers. Cinimol is a benign looking bus......till it starts moving. On the back of the bus is emblazoned "CONCORD" in a fiery red which the fiend behind the wheel seriously believes. As he hurtles down the road at breakneck speed, he defies every law, every rule, every force of nature and gravity known to man. I pray incessantly and I thank God I'm in the bus and not out of it .....on the road.....in his way; if that happens, I'll only have enough time to hope that God doesn't run buses in Paradise.
When I alight, my internal organs are dancing to their own tunes as they try to find their spot to settle down. Cinimol races with Ranjinee's (not my punctuation or spelling) who's in turn racing with Highness (as opposed to ?) and they're all trying to catch up with Sleeba (I swear I'm not making this up). I marvel that there are no bodies piled up on the streets. I promise myself never to ever again curse Bangalore drivers who're such lambs in comparison.
"Road Clossed" (not my spelling) the sign says. It's a challenge too inviting to pass up for my auto driver. At first I think he doesn't know English (or he knows better English), so I ask him "closed alllaayyy??" He looks at me and laughs and says it's been closed since 1947 and he's been using it for roughly the same period. I want to scream, "but where is the road?" but I underestimate this champion driver. He's already delivered me to my destination in one piece - as usual, I wasn't looking. I feel like falling on my knees and thanking him.
When it's time to leave, I don't want to go. This is a pace of life that is forgotten in my world (if you forget the traffic part). People have time for you here. They're interested in what you say. They're simple, they're great hosts, and there are some parts of their human spirit that are still unspoiled by my world - just like their beautiful land. Most of all, they're open - what you see is what you get. I want to stay, but I can't.....of course, I'll always go back.....to my second home.
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