Red Bus mattu (and) Rash Driving

Bangalore is filled with compressed-air powered red buses. I love these buses. Unlike the old blue buses, these red buses look a lot like Volvo and yet they are “common-man“ friendly and hold a lot of space inside the bus for travelers to stand comfortably during rush hour. But not all of these buses get good bus drivers. I've had near fall out experiences once or twice while I was travelling in one of these huge buses.

Compressed air-power buses have a lot of power in terms of speed as well as brakes. Sudden braking makes the bus going at any speed to come to a halt within seconds. But the full impact of it is shown inside the bus. Passengers sitting don’t have to endure much problem. But the one’s standing gets its full impact.

I was lucky the other day. I was standing near the pole. Both my hands were busy holding my wallet and in the process of taking out money to pay the bus conductor. Suddenly the driver hit the brake and the bus moving at 80, came to a sudden halt. My whole body was thrown forward but my sudden instincts directed my hands to hold fast the pole and with a backward twist, I got the required support and saved myself from falling down head first on the floor. I was so angry at the driver, but since I hadn’t fallen I didn’t feel the need to go and start a boring quarrel with him. Minutes later I got the seat and I happily settled down with ear phones and music. My friend, who was sitting behind my seat tapped my shoulder and said loudly with a snigger, “Neha, when did you learn to pole dance? You are pretty good!!” I turned back to retaliate and saw that her words had carried to the men’s section and many guys were nodding in mock approval. “I’ll get you for this girl!!” I growled at her laughing face and turned back to see the driver, who was happily singing and hitting the brakes roughly at unnecessary junctions.

The bus was getting more and more crowded at every stop. All the ladies were standing precariously. Poor women, they had no idea that they had just mounted a bus that was being driven by a moronic driver. And then it happened. Another one of bus driver’s signature “sudden brakes”. Two ladies standing beside my seat toppled onto one another, causing the third lady to fall down on the bus floor. This was followed by loud shrieks and a high pitched quarrel could be heard loud and clear even through the loud music from my ear phones. The ladies were blaming each other for falling. They should scold the driver who is the root cause for causing this catastrophe.  I thought angrily. But I caught the driver, happily waving to a fellow bus driver and totally oblivious to what was happening on the bus behind him. Was he really oblivious or was he showcasing “jaana kividu” (a Kannada phrase which means, “smart deafness”) to the din that was taking place behind him?? I had half a mind to get up and hit him in the head and then smugly apologize  by telling the “brakes” had caused me to “accidently” hit him!!

Thankfully my stop arrived and I was the first to literally jump out of the bus with relief. As I saw the red bus making its way through the narrow crowded road showcasing its power speed and power brakes, I almost felt like I had just gotten off the knight bus from the Harry Potter movie. It happens only in India!!

Being 23

I just realized I’ll be 23 this year. I know it’s a little too late to realize this. But the sudden realization hit me like “BOOM... OMG I’m gonna be TWENTY THREE!!!”... Why do I sound so shocked? This was bound to happen. Some might say, “Hey, take a chill-pill hon, you are just turning 23, life is still young and hip for you!”... Hmm, should that make me feel relieved? I’ve lately been asking myself some crazy questions that I can’t answer. Whenever I pop a crazy question to myself, I just open my mouth to answer but alas, there is no answer.

So, the pros and cons of turning 23. Let me give some mathematical insight on the number 23:

•  23 is the ninth prime number.
•  It’s the smallest odd prime which is not a twin prime.
•  It’s also a 5^th factorial prime, the 3^rd Woodall prime (whatever that means!!  Found these stuff on wiki)

I also observed from the movie “The Beautiful Mind” (which is based on a real-life story of John Forbes Nash , the noble prize winning economist) that Mr. Nash was obsessed with the number 23 and that same number was the root cause for his nervous breakdown. How sad... I sure hope I don’t get a nervous breakdown by turning 23. I sometimes feel, just like the number 13, 23 holds some mysterious weight age about it that would cause people to go mad and think up crazy theories (just like how I’m writing about all these even though I know none of this can really matter since this age will pass and I’ll be 24 next year and that will be a different horror show for sure!!)

Some of the good or ignorant things about turning 23:

•             I’ll be old enough to know what the hell is going around me but I’m young enough to ignore it and stay oblivious to my surroundings.
•        I’m nearing 30 yet I've left my brains back at high school!
•       Well 23 is two years above 21, so I have every right to get drunk whenever I please. (But some crazy dreams are best left to stay as dreams!)

It’s so hard to come up with good stuff to support my age, when all I can do is whine that I’m turning 23. And I just had an epiphany that every even year, my age turns odd. This year March 11Th, 2012, I’ll be turning 23! So what did I infer from this so called epiphany?? I have no idea, but something feels oddly wrong about aging. Every year it’s the same with me. Neither am I happy nor comfortable to have my age incremented every 365 days or so. I stand in front of the mirror and observe all the changes I can spot. Well, frustratingly changes are hard to tell when you look at yourself constantly every day. Still I spot a few hateful white hairs here and there that shine amidst my black hair. It’s acceptable that age has to show one way or the other. But why should my hair turn white?? Can’t age leave my hair alone? So, I decide to take refuge at the hair salon to dye my hair to my favourite shade of chocolate brown.

But no amount of “hair dye with no ammonia extracts” can cure me of aging. I so badly wish to get hold of the elixir of life or the sorceries’ stone from the Harry Potter book. Ah well, life happens and I just have to go with the waves.  But on a bright note, being 23 is not that bad. But don’t ask me in what ways it’s not bad (I’m still figuring it out!). If you are still reading this, then please pray stop, my ramblings have begun again!

My college friends have planned to give me birthday bums and I’m rigging out master plans to escape them on my birthday.  But I’ll be meeting the same friends on Monday on the inevitable train journey to Bengaluru for project classes and so I don’t think I can completely escape them this time!!

Ah well, even though I feel like the least happy person to celebrate my birthday, I’m still feeling good that I have friends who are on the same boat as me. I don’t have to sail the boat of ‘aging’ all alone. Yet being born early in a year does nothing but age you faster than most of your friends, who even though are born on the same year as you, yet they remain a year younger while you turn 23. I have quite a few friends whose birthday falls in November and December. Damn! They turned 22 just 3 months ago and here I am turning to a whole other year!!

But the bottom line is that I feel like my youngster quota is getting over too soon. Soon I’ll be in the “aunty” category (maybe I already am! I’ve already endured getting called as aunty by those kids that sell flowers or toys on the streets :-/). But still, not even god can stop me from getting a year older every year. On the plus side, at least this year I’ll try to meet up with some of my resolutions, like graduating and landing a job for starters.

But these have to wait. Right now, I’ll be a brand new girl to the house of 23. I welcome myself to this odd numbered age and I just hope this year will end on an even and positive note. Fingers crossed!

Being 23
A reason to celebrate?
Oh no! please no, no!!

You are 23

Give us a birthday treat

Commands' from my dear friends

Its bound to happen

I am 23 and there's

Nothing, I can do to be!!

Holi, a festival of colors

A color brings forth a smile

A smile so pleasurable

Can see it from a mile

Holi, a festive pleasure of colors

Simmers you with multi-color

It's a game of colors more or less

Makes you look flashier than a sunflower

A year has passed and holi's back!

Red, blue, green and yellow

Here to lift every Indian's inner spirit

This is holi and that's what it's all about!!

P.S: I wish everyone a Happy Holi :) :) ... girls at my college celebrated holi with tremendous zest. It was fun to watch all the lecturers and students together, playing on this festive occasion. I tried to escape but in the end got a little color smeared across my face too. Whether the colors are filled with chemicals or not, this is one festival where every adult starts to feel young again and every youngster starts to mingle and spread the color and it's an eye treat for all the kids who are seeing this colorful celebration for the first time.


Shared with : Hyde Park Poetry

Boys and their Precious Bikes

Courtesy:Google images

I can never come to understand completely what it is that makes literally all the guys (the cool ones, the strong ones, the smart ones, the geeky and nerdy ones!!) go mad when they see a fancy blazing bike. I mean the amount of undeviating devotion that pours from the soul of every guy just surprises me to a mundane extent.

“You are so ignorant, how would you know the real thrill of riding a Ducati at a 110, go back to riding your silly Dio and never ask me such infuriating questions such as ‘why do you like bikes’”, is one of the irritating answers I get from my brother (who has personally never ridden a Ducati himself yet acts all knowingly as though he came up with that bike!) when I ask him, “why do guys act all heartbroken when they see a fancy bike?”. Did I just get word-slapped like that Mentos ad?? (“Mentos kao, dimaag ki batti jalao!”)

google images

I mean, come on it’s just a machine guys. All it does is rotate its wheel at different accelerating levels and transport at most two or three people from a source to destination by drinking in petrol like a thirsty camel!! Is it the hair-rising speed that makes all the guys go “god-dammit I gotta ride one of those beauties!”... I guess I got my answer. And probably the shape of the bike plays its role too. Modern bikes have a high raised passenger seat which gives it a “cool” look but it’s not at all a comfortable back seat to be able to sit on. They design the seats in such a way that if a girl sits there, she should have no other choice but to hug the bike rider (I see they have removed all the safety side handles and stuff ...just for the “thrills” as they call it!). Either that or the pillion rider should have their arms flailing around like a helpless monkey while the rider takes his “beauty” to a dangerous speed.

google images

Bikes are no longer just some transport vehicles. They are the new fancy expensive accessories that every guy wishes to flaunt. Just like how all the fashion-obsessed divas like to flaunt about their new pair of D&G bags and high heels. Bike designing is no longer seen from a point of mere consumerism. It’s the new art. The art of designing bikes is equivalent to any Picasso or Da Vinci art. Guys are so obsessed with the new designs and all that self-art stuff that they worship the whole process of bringing a newly designed bike to life. I love art and so any form of art is appreciated by me, be it a crazy looking green bike like this or that monstrous looking bike from the movie ghost rider.

I came across this picture at Facebook and it clearly states the amount of obsession that a guy holds for his bike (need I say more!!). Girls are secondary when it comes to their bikes. They’d rather worship the bike. But have you ever wondered why guys want to flaunt an expensive, fast bike. “It’s for the thrill of the speed” are the usual lines I hear from them. Yeah, yeah... but deep down, they want to attract the female crowd. “To impress a girl”, is about as bluntly as I can put it. It’s the mediocre purpose of every youngster’s life. I know at this point all you guys might be gearing up to come back at me with your defensive speech but let’s face it, if a guy gets a new, shiny 500 cc (or whatever it is!!) bike and doesn’t hear a compliment from any of the eye-lid battling girls, then that’s such a heart break isn’t it?! :P

Anyway jokes aside, bikes are cool. I have never personally ridden a bike but I have gone on some cool journeys by sitting safely behind my friend. I hate too much of speed, I guess I have a little phobia or something. But other than that, I enjoy being a pillion rider on a bike (though I don’t like climbing and sitting on the back seat, it feels like I’m climbing a high compound!!).

 So guys, do buy your favourite accessory coz you have every right to flaunt your style and taste just like how we girls flaunt our accessories (I’m referring to bags and shoes of course ;) )... But my only advice is: “wear helmet and drive safely”.

***

Mag 107 - A Short Fiction

“Don’t you worry honey, there's no one stalking you. It’s all in your head. Now, you get some nice sleep and I shall meet you in your dreams”.

His voice made her smile with relief. “Ever since I met you, my stalking troubles have finally come to an end. Whoever it was has finally given up on me to find a new prey. I used to get these horrible phone calls and letters. You are the only one I have had the courage to confide this horrible secret. It’s like you understand me better than anyone else...”

“There there, I’m the lucky guy here. I would have never imagined I would end up in the life of a famous model such as you. We must thank the stalker for bringing us together honey. Without his intervention, you would never have gotten into my car, asking for my help. Remember the day we met?”

“Yes, how could I forget? I dare not imagine what would have happened to me if you hadn’t safely dropped me off at my house", she laughed feebly."Goodnight Jack. See you in my dreams”.

“You betcha, my angel”.

As Jack (the ripper) placed the phone down, he stared right into the eyes of his next prey. The giant painting magnified her beauty to a remarkable level. An evil grin lit his face to many shades.

“Tonight you will be mine and forever be a dream in many men’s lives, my beautiful angel...”

He took out the knife from his bowler hat and slashed it across her painting. A maniacal laugh reverberated around the empty room.

***

Shared with: The Magpietales

P.S: I know its pretty predictable, I strongly believe in the phrase "practice makes perfect". I hope to better myself with every post.