Friday, July 29, 2005

Mingle Jingle With Bloggers

Mandar has taken it upon himself to infuse our lives with much needed fun type activities. As a prelude, please to be present for the second of such meets -

Venue: Barista, St. Mark's Road.
Date and Time: Saturday, July 30, 5:00 PM

Unfortunately (for the person who cringes at reading this :P to you !) I will be in Madras this weekend. Hope y'all have a blast. And lots of pictures, please.

Have a great weekend ! I know I will ! Woohoo !

Sunday, July 24, 2005

The Taxi

I had emailed The Boys about the recent purchase. Amidst congratualtions and other insults, I heard this shocking bit of information:

[...] also another sad news... boys... our dear old TAXI... has been sold :( .. my dad's company sold it... am ok now... but it felt like another break up... not to worry.. now recovery time... 1 day and 1 Scholtsky's veggie sandwich...
Now this was a real blow. If you ever spot me on Orkut, you would see that myself and the said person are two of three members of the Maruthi 800 community. That car, Taxi, had served us well. As Branny remembers:
From: Branny

Oh boy that was a blow, dude. I was there when she turned 80K, boo hoo. Good old “TAXI”. And that’s a reminder that we are also getting old. We should drink one for her. Later ladies.
Ah, yes. The day she turned 80K. All the stories. All the petrol bills. All the chai. All the memories.
From: Vignesh

Heh, Branny changing tyres on that beauty was a sight to behold. I was there. Kaarya, was not. I can tell my grandchildren that. Man, I'm really sad now. We are getting old guys ! Thats like, shit, The Taxi is gone. What next ? Sad, but I guess Baard said it best... 'this feels like another breakup... damn... Anyways, I think in honor of the beauty that she was and the fact that she was Baard's and he didn't mind sharing her, I shall allow Baard to name my vehicle. Go ahead dear boy... !!! Come up with a good one...
And as I wipe that slow tear off my eye, I cannot but glance at my new baby. About how she will never know the memories all of us shared with The Taxi. About how jealous she would be if she ever did come to know.

Don't worry baby, we have many more miles to go, many more memories to create.

PS: Yesterday, the lock to my front door got jammed. Now, there is a big hole in my door. I cannot leave for work. It feels strange to be locked up in a place, not because you cannot leave, but rather because you cannot lock up what you leave behind.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

The need for night vision goggles

So there I was, minding my own business, waiting for the bus to take me to good ol' Madras. The domino effect was in full swing - the first guy reclines his seat, and everyone behind him follows suite. As I was struggling to get my foot unwedged from the contraption of a seat in front of me, this girl walks in and notices that her seat is next to a guy. She promptly tells the cleaner to get her a seat next to a girl. I didn't know you could do something like that, but I guess in a country where all sorts of shit can happen, you can never be too safe.

The girl, her co-seated-girl, the dislocated guy, me and every one else get settled in for a bumpy night. That's when the Couple walk in. He and She are both hopelessly in love. They can't seem to let go of each other. I actually had to help the guy stow his bag away, coz he kept fumbling around with one hand for the bag, the other wrapped around Her substantial girth. They sit down, the bus starts, people start chewing paan, the usual. They hand out those god awful, itchy sheets. I stretch. I yawn. I sheet. I sleep.

I wake up to the cellphone of the dude next to me. He launches into a quick conversation, apologizes and goes back to sleep. And that's when I heard it. A low moan. A barely audible whisper. A giggle. Clothes rustling. I look around and through the corner of my eye I see His hand, sneaking under Her sheet. Her eyes are closed and before I could turn around, She lets out a moan. She slaps his hands. He takes a cue, his hands become brave. The moans continued for a while and I suspect that they woke up a few people. But surprisingly, no one said anything. They rise to a crescendo of low decibel, primal moans and abruptly come to a panting halt. And I just sat there, wondering, wow ! People actually do this on a bus !??! Surrounded by others, here is this man, climaxing his partner ! I forced my eyes shut, trying not to hold my sheet too close, eyeing stains on my sheet in a new light now.

I saw them again on the way back. And this time, they were sitting ahead of me. And they were at it again ! AGAIN ! I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Moans and rustling clothes and the soft sounds of agony. I exaggerate not. I wholly understand that the public nature of the place and all that increases the excitement, and whats more, its none of my business WHERE his fingers are... but isn't this a bit too much though ?

Really now, think of the children !

Thursday, July 14, 2005

My poor baby

Nothing. Unless you want to hear about work, I have nothing to say. That may come as quite a shock to those who know me, but its the honest truth. Life looks good right now, there isn't much to crib about. No overwhelming grief demands that I write cryptic posts, veiling my sorrow in carefully chosen words. No stellar happenings, that I can construct science fiction from. The only thing that is worth telling is this : I bought a car !!!

To which I did this, within the first five hours of owning it. While pulling up into my parking spot. After braving Bangalore traffic on a Saturday night. The duct tape is so that water doesn't flow into the door frame. Yes, it is a gash. Not a scratch.

I guess I didn't feel all that bad about it. I hadn't even started feeling like I owned the damn car to feel bad about ripping a hole through it. All I was thinking was, thank God for insurance.

Hope y'all had a less violent week.

PS: Even though the picture makes the car look like its 'Passion Red' its not. Its 'Scarlet Rage' or 'Scarlet Sage'. The tifosi in me likes to believe its 'Scarlet Rage'.

Friday, July 08, 2005


Tassadar had done it. The crazy fool had made the ultimate sacrifice, using his own Channel, drawing enough power to bring her roiling armies to a standstill.

The General stood atop the cliff, looking down on the destruction that the clashing armies had rained on the land. He had seen worse, he had seen more death and destruction than he cared to remember. All those memories - C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhauser gate, his last desperate defense of the Stairway to Hevan, his surprise attack on the flanks of the Destroyer of Hope at the Morgul Vale - all those victories would mean nothing if he lost now. To her. He was one the most glorified generals in the ranks of the Ever Victorious Army of the Empress, Praise Be Upon Her. An army that had never lost a battle. Never, in the history of his Glorious Land. He could NOT lose now. Not when it mattered the most.

He had done everything right. The Cankers had been deployed perfectly. He had ensured that dis-information was relayed in just the right quantities, at just the right time. He had even accounted for the wild fluctuations in the Channel, that eventually allowed Tassadar to do what he did. He knew her as a diplomat, he knew her as a brilliant tactician, as a bold opponent and as a passionate lover. Or so he believed.

And that was where he made his one fateful mistake - a mistake that would cost him his life and the lives of all those he defended. He thought he understood women.

Tassadar had done it. The crazy fool had made the ultimate sacrifice, using his own Channel, drawing enough power to bring her roiling armies to a standstill.

She stood staring at her display panels, constantly reliving that final, decisive moment - one Avalonian's ultimate sacrifice, another's brilliant strategy - reliving her defeat. In her many years in the Galactic Council, she had seen brilliance in battle, in diplomacy and in politik. Some would say she had seen more than one lifetimes worth. With her ability to always stay ahead of not only her opponents, but also her allies, she had withstood numerous coups, revolts, assassinations and lovers.

Lovers. She had had many spanning across her many lifetimes. She had met the General at the Leviathan Peace Summit and they had indulged in as doomed an affair as the summit itself. They made love, as diplomats argued, negotiators drew blood and politiks bitched. They made love, convinced that the song they sung then would reach its climactic ending on a battlefield some day.

And from the looks of things, that day had arrived. She had anticipated his every tactic, countering with such brilliance, such efficiency and such force, that she was convinced of her victory. If not for his ability to forgo what years of training had taught him, his Hja-forsaken ability to deny what his beliefs led him to understand as the Holy Word, his ability to, as he used to say, never let his morals get in the way of doing what was right. If not for that, she would have tasted his blood on her talons by now.

And that was where she made her one fateful mistake - a mistake that would cost her this campaign, her career and maybe her life - she thought she understood men.

[Some names, events and quotes have been inspired by my favorite works of science fiction and fantasy. In some cases - like the Bladerunner quote - they are identical replicas. In others vague likenesses have been used.]

Monday, July 04, 2005

Dream a little dream of me

The parents have left. The house is all clean, everything is tidy, in its right place. As soon as they left, I felt an irresistible urge to do something about all that tidiness. I picked up some dirty laundry and threw it over my bed. There. That's more like it. Like my life. I don't like re-genesis. I don't like the shiny floor. I don't like the organized cupboards. I liked the nightmare of a dirty apartment. All this does now is to make me realize how worse off the rest of my life is.

I sat next to her today, on the way to work. Her hair was wet again, the fragrance as divine as ever. The smell was so thick, I could almost reach out and touch it. If I had, it would have had a nice, soft, moss-like feel to it. Herbal. Natural. She shied away from the sun. I wondered if I should ask if she wanted to swap seats. I didn't. I've been sitting behind her occasionally, for the last few months. Today, I sat next to her. And felt sad, at a dream which had ended.

It's never easy to tell someone, that sometimes, love just can't be. Should I try? "Its not that I don't love you. I do. In my own limited way. Its just that I can't. We can't. And you know it." Does that make me sound like a creep? Does that make me sound like a heartbreaking bastard who doesn't deserve the attention he gets from this marvelous woman? Does that make me sound like someone who just doesn't want to wake up from that dream ?

Rude awakenings. I hate waking up from dreams. I hate new beginnings.