This is a recent incident...or I'd rather say I shall never forget it. It is about the time when I was working and we had these 'behavioural' trainings that had to be completed in order to have a good appraisal. I have always wondered how effective these trainings really are...but anyway, this is not a discussion about that. This is about our faculty or trainer for our training on Assertiveness, or something on those lines. I have never been good at fancy names...but it did make me quite sure of myself for the next few days...and rather careful too...about dressing, if I may add. Though in a week's time the sure part wore off...but the other lesson lies embedded in my mind till this date and will always be.
"A safety pin is a woman's best friend."
Before I write any further, I would like to add that this is being written in good humour and...what the heck, I dont think the person involved will ever get to this article...I dont even remember her name now...though she was a helluva person. Not seen many ppl as dynamic and dedicated as her.
She was in her late forties, or early fifties...smart, intelligent and very very enthusiastic. Hers was one of the few trainings I didn't sleep through. She was outstanding ! About average height and more than average build, she was due to come to our class of 20 students at 10:00AM. But as luck would have it she was running late and managed to whoosh into the class at almost 10:30 apologising profusely about the delay and starting almost immediately with the classes without as much as gaining breath. She was smartly and tastefully dressed in a Bengali cotton sari (the ones with tiny checks on them) appropriately starched. Reading glasses on her head, joined by a chain so that they could be found in times of dire need, she really must have had a very high number, coz the glasses were as thick as window panes. A Titan watch, two gold rings and a chain in the neck were all the jewellery she wore and plain almost flat sandals to facilitate her running around while teaching. The moment she entered the class, she exuded energy, the otherwise dreary day seemed bright now...she came rushing in through the entrance towards the blackboard...going past all us students, 19 men (of all ages) and 1 girl, me.
It was right then that it had struck me, that she inadvertently limped after every 5 steps she took, sometimes, 6. Initially I figured it must be some handicap and tried to ignore it, but later, it dawned on me that she was perfectly normal. The 'handicap' was the sari, which was a little longer and would try its best to get entangled with her feet...and I must admit, it did a pretty good job at that! But the Madam being so totally engrossed with her work, her teaching and us, did not have time to pay attention to such petty issues. Every time the sari would get tangled, she would do a tiny hop and be able to dodge the hanging end only to get it tangled again in a few minutes time. I tried hard to tell her but thought it inappriopriate to do so, the lady was virtually as old as my mother and you dont tell them how to wear saris do you? So I kept mum...while she went on with her hopping and walking and teaching routine...till at one point of time, when she walked towards the board, a small spread of the sari lagged behind her like the tail of a mermaid....right from between her feet. It was only then that the men and boys around started taking notice...though all they could figure out was that it was a queer way to wear a sari.
I on the other hand was close to panic, if I did not telll her now, in a few seconds time, the whole class would. But alas, this was not to be, and before I could reach her, all the pleats of the sari lay sprawled on the ground. That was the time when she was about to start a documentary on the projector and right then, the lights were turned off ! Some luck I must say ! She sat down flat on her chair, which she hadn't used in the past 6 hours and stared at the video on screen while I rushed to her and told her of the situation. She was mighty more panicked than I was! I whispered into her ear about going to the wash room and handed her a safety pin. And I have never ever seen anyone vanish out of site and come back again in a millionth of a second...everything restored to normalcy...even before the guys could start snickering about the whole thing. She thanked me later for the pin...and said to me, safety pins are godsend. That would make me an angel wouldn't it?
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Thursday, August 21, 2008
The rope incident
This is about the time when I was in my 11th standard, the PUC as one puts it. We were out in the market with my parents, my sister and my aunt and uncle. My uncle is a real fast walker, why, there are times that you just turn your back to him for a second and he vanishes out completely! My aunt on the other hand is a leisure walker, add to that a nice pair of stiletto heels and what do you have? A walking snail...though poor thing she tried her best to walk as fast as she could, her feet were not always co-operative. And that is just what happened on the day in question.
We were in one of the many jam-packed lanes in the marketplace where there hardly is any place to move. With super narrow lanes and crowded shops and all sorts of people from hefty ladies with their frail-looking servants to the huge families with atleast six children of six different sizes screaming out and running around helter-skelter.
My uncle was as usual, rushing through the market, mostly because he was scared that his wife would catch hold of him and make him pay for something he believed was completely unnecessary and also, for the exercise. He was a fit person you see. And he liked brisk walking too. My father and us kids were keeping him company too...shopping wasn't something we enjoyed thoroughly either. And uncle was fun! he always had a joke to share or an incident to narrate...he was a laugh riot. Little did we know that day we would see a practical joke.
It happened like this, our aunt saw something of particular interest in one of the congested shops, what it was eludes me at this instant, but it must have been mighty desirable because it made her yell out to uncle, actually yell out is an understatement. It was probably a siren. But we all know how men's listening skills suddenly diminish when it comes to hearing their wives, dont we, and well, he walked along unobtrusively. This angered my aunt and she rushed towards him at top speed. And then suddenly there was a loud 'Thud' and for a few seconds the world seemed to come to a stand-still, even the oozing out market that we were in.
What we saw would have been a funny sight for us too, had it not been for our very own short and sweet aunt lying face down on the ground. Flat ! And about 5-10 shopkeepers running helter skelter to help her out. We rushed to aunt's aid...all of us...all of us except that is, our dear uncle, whose first impression of his wife lying flat on the floor was, "Dekho! koi moti tapak gayi !" (Check out the fatso lying down there!) and later on recognising who it was, stood there, intently absorbing every single detail of the whole incident, never once thinking of going over to her and helping her out. Why! There already was a whole army to help her, wasn't there? This was the argument he used for following umpteen days, when our aunt refused to talk to him.
It cost him a lavish dinner at one of aunt's favourite restaurants followed by almost a whole new wardrobe to bring her back to normal...or as he put it, abnormal.
We were in one of the many jam-packed lanes in the marketplace where there hardly is any place to move. With super narrow lanes and crowded shops and all sorts of people from hefty ladies with their frail-looking servants to the huge families with atleast six children of six different sizes screaming out and running around helter-skelter.
My uncle was as usual, rushing through the market, mostly because he was scared that his wife would catch hold of him and make him pay for something he believed was completely unnecessary and also, for the exercise. He was a fit person you see. And he liked brisk walking too. My father and us kids were keeping him company too...shopping wasn't something we enjoyed thoroughly either. And uncle was fun! he always had a joke to share or an incident to narrate...he was a laugh riot. Little did we know that day we would see a practical joke.
It happened like this, our aunt saw something of particular interest in one of the congested shops, what it was eludes me at this instant, but it must have been mighty desirable because it made her yell out to uncle, actually yell out is an understatement. It was probably a siren. But we all know how men's listening skills suddenly diminish when it comes to hearing their wives, dont we, and well, he walked along unobtrusively. This angered my aunt and she rushed towards him at top speed. And then suddenly there was a loud 'Thud' and for a few seconds the world seemed to come to a stand-still, even the oozing out market that we were in.
What we saw would have been a funny sight for us too, had it not been for our very own short and sweet aunt lying face down on the ground. Flat ! And about 5-10 shopkeepers running helter skelter to help her out. We rushed to aunt's aid...all of us...all of us except that is, our dear uncle, whose first impression of his wife lying flat on the floor was, "Dekho! koi moti tapak gayi !" (Check out the fatso lying down there!) and later on recognising who it was, stood there, intently absorbing every single detail of the whole incident, never once thinking of going over to her and helping her out. Why! There already was a whole army to help her, wasn't there? This was the argument he used for following umpteen days, when our aunt refused to talk to him.
It cost him a lavish dinner at one of aunt's favourite restaurants followed by almost a whole new wardrobe to bring her back to normal...or as he put it, abnormal.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
The autowallahs of Hyderabad
This article is written after gaining a rich experience of auto-travelling for almost two whole years and being alive and undamaged inspite of it (not that we wud need the autos really, with the blasts and the flyovers falling off on their own). But seriously, I am one of the lucky few who has emerged unscathed out of an auto till this day. If you think this is no big deal, read on...
An 'auto' or 'autorickshaw' (for the firangs who have never heard about it), is a 'three-wheel' automotive which looks something like the face of a pig wearing scuba gear merged into a buffalo's hind. This is no exaggeration, believe me. The front portion of it resembles a scooter while the back is more like that of a car, only a lot less comfortable. And the autowallah is the person who drives this 'thing', may also be called God of death who meanders through the road pulling out from the smalles possible crevices at jet speed. Defying all laws of gravity, traffic, common sense and anything else that there is to it. And this with atleast two guys standing/hanging/dangling (I dont really think I can describe it) on either side of the auto making the toppling over of this thing almost inevitable.
The idea is to get so many people cramped up inside the auto,that even if by any chance it does topple off, the passengers stay glued to their respective positions, so that when the auto is set upright, they just move on like nothing happened.
These rides are so scary that the thought of death comes to you automatically. I have actually made a list of all the things I need to get done before I pass away on one such trip. I even apologize to God for all my misgivings, not that he can hear it, with the techno cum retro cum whatever-they-call-it blaring music which would actually bring out the dead from their graves. I realise how short a life it can be (if I still manage to survive this trip) and how much more I need to accomplish till the next trip takes me to nowhereland.
There are kinds in these ppl too:-
1.You shut up and I will do the driving kind
These ppl take offence if u ask them to slow down, and gear up to show that they are offended. You are not to teach them their job. If you do, then get ready to bear the wrath of these 10-second Gods.
2. Money minting autowallahs
These autowallahs decide to give you a moral lesson on how you need to respect the poor and shell out extra money without objecting to it ( irrespective of what the meter shows).
3. the Raja Hindustanis
If you're a girl, then God save you from these flirtatious mad drivers. They've put the rear view mirror to a brand new use. To look at you.
I think it is after the movie Raja Hindustani and movies akin to it, where there's this poor taxi driver who gets the millionaire's daughter. Our autowallah, with the stylish, if not disfigured cap, the netted vest (if that's what you call it) and the weird colored pants...and yes, the Rajnikanth hairdo, is no less than a hero himself. And, if you ignore him, then you get an adventure ride of a lifetime for a nominal charge.
4. Wont-even-bother-to-respond kind
You've been waiting in the scorching sun for 15 mins now, and you finally see an empty auto. You stop him, ask him if he wud go to 'Hitec' and he just gives u a pitiful look and moves.
Life is not all about serenity and safety you know, there's much more to it too. And these autowallahs prove it time and again. You can hate them, loathe them, detest them, but you cannot do without them and that is the eternal truth of life. The autos in Hyderabad are the easiest modes of transport and cater to a large part of the population in this city. So while you're at it, have a joy ride.
The 'blue film' incident
Once upon a time when I was in college, I had this sweet, little naive friend. Reena was an ace performer in her class, but when it came to worldly knowledge, she knew close to little. There were times when I thought she believed in the stork and the baby story !! She would shudder if we would try to tell her what actually happened, stare if someone used the 'f' word and was altogether ignorant about such petty things.
Things would have gone on just fine, had it not been for that fateful day when our gang of gurls decided to visit a nearby lake. The weather was perfect, with a cool breeze blowing, a cloudy-but-not-enough-to rain sky and immense greenery all around. Just the kind of day when one decides to go to a lake. So there we were, absorbing all the earth's magnificient beauty and wondering about our next semester exams...and well, chatting in general. The only ingredient missing was food, I always believe that food should always be a part of all conversations, it makes it so interesting! And what more do you need, if not a little chaat ! Nothing springs one up like a little bit of pani-puri and aloo tikki. Food for thought, aint it? So off we went to the nearest thela and placed orders for loads of pani puris.
The day would have been just fine had it not been for those two gentlemen who came in and parked a huge car with blue-tinted glasses right beside the thela. One of them then rolled down the glass and was about to place his order when suddenly Reena went all hippity hop and yelled out to us, "Look!", she said, "blue-film!" Poor little dear was referring to the car's glasses, though how many of us figured it out is anyone's guess. Two of the girls distanced themselves from her and pretended like they had neither heard or seen anything that was going on, a third dropped her pani poori right on the floor and well, as for me, I stood there, shell-shocked ! Glad to have an audience in me, Reena stressed out even louder this time, pointing all the time at those well-dressed men and calling out, 'blue film'. By this time, the thelawala was thoroughly flustered, I have never seen anyone work as efficiently as he was working at that time and as for the carwalas, well, chaat or no chaat, they fled! To save an ounce of dignity that they figured they had.
As for Reena, she stood there, unperturbed, enjoying her pani-puri, oblivious of the world and the commotion she had caused all this time. There was little then, that could be done, but smile at this naive and innocent gal and let bygones be bygones. Ofcourse, it had to be blogged. ;)
Things would have gone on just fine, had it not been for that fateful day when our gang of gurls decided to visit a nearby lake. The weather was perfect, with a cool breeze blowing, a cloudy-but-not-enough-to rain sky and immense greenery all around. Just the kind of day when one decides to go to a lake. So there we were, absorbing all the earth's magnificient beauty and wondering about our next semester exams...and well, chatting in general. The only ingredient missing was food, I always believe that food should always be a part of all conversations, it makes it so interesting! And what more do you need, if not a little chaat ! Nothing springs one up like a little bit of pani-puri and aloo tikki. Food for thought, aint it? So off we went to the nearest thela and placed orders for loads of pani puris.
The day would have been just fine had it not been for those two gentlemen who came in and parked a huge car with blue-tinted glasses right beside the thela. One of them then rolled down the glass and was about to place his order when suddenly Reena went all hippity hop and yelled out to us, "Look!", she said, "blue-film!" Poor little dear was referring to the car's glasses, though how many of us figured it out is anyone's guess. Two of the girls distanced themselves from her and pretended like they had neither heard or seen anything that was going on, a third dropped her pani poori right on the floor and well, as for me, I stood there, shell-shocked ! Glad to have an audience in me, Reena stressed out even louder this time, pointing all the time at those well-dressed men and calling out, 'blue film'. By this time, the thelawala was thoroughly flustered, I have never seen anyone work as efficiently as he was working at that time and as for the carwalas, well, chaat or no chaat, they fled! To save an ounce of dignity that they figured they had.
As for Reena, she stood there, unperturbed, enjoying her pani-puri, oblivious of the world and the commotion she had caused all this time. There was little then, that could be done, but smile at this naive and innocent gal and let bygones be bygones. Ofcourse, it had to be blogged. ;)
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