Don't. Just Don't.

Next time someone tries to stamp their authority (in general, not necessarily on me), I'm certainly going to tell them this little true story.

25th September was the 7th day of Ganesh Chaturti (Ganpati festival). It was a Tuesday. I need to give you some back ground on this story so you can see how it crumbles perfectly along at the end.

I came back to Bombay on Sunday from Pune with my niece (who is 25 and hates being called my niece) and her friend. We bought a bottle of water along the way and when we reached Bombay, the girls just left this bottle in the pocket of the seat cover behind my (the driver) seat. I did not know this. Monday was an interesting day 'cause there were a whole load of cops outside the building who weren't particularly happy about people leaving or entering the area. I'm not sure why and I'd rather not say what I heard was the problem. So I just worked from home, while my car baked in the (newly returned) Bombay heat.

Tuesday morning on my way to work I dropped off my shirts at the laundry and told the chap I'd pick it up in the evening. When I got to office, I realised it was the 7th day of Ganpati and there would be a visarjan (immersion) happening in the evening. Since, I stay right opposite the Charkop Lake in Kandivali, Bombay, that meant I needed to leave office by about 5:30pm to make sure I don't get stuck in traffic and more so in a mob of people dancing on the road as if they were possessed by the spirit of Micheal Jackson. Hundreds of people would soon descend right outside my building to immerse the Ganesh idols. So I left office and reached home by about 6:00pm and on my way, I stopped over at the laundry. The chap wasn't expecting me back so early, so he asked me to come back later. I parked the car around the corner of my apartment complex and got home to finish of some work. Now, the car I have is a K10 Alto (not the fancy type, but does the job really well), and it has a security alarm that works overtime. It goes off even when a dog so much takes a piss next to it. I'm not exaggerating, and you can even put it to test if you want. And it's effing LOUD!

I decided to walk across to the laundry at about 8:45pm (before Masterchef Australia Season 4 starts) to pick up my shirt. I felt the urge to pee by the time I started making the walk, but I was too lazy to go back up 4 floors and then walk back again. It was going to take 5 minutes anyway, or so I thought. This is where the story starts. On my way back, from about 10 meters away, I could see the watchman talking to a bunch of cops. From where I could see, two of them were like constables (with sticks) and one of them was a sub-inspector (he had a gun and I also know how the ranks work by looking at the "stars" on their shoulders). The watchman pointed at me, as soon as he saw me arrive at the scene. "WTF", was my first reaction. By this time I could feel the pee at the "tip". This is how the conversation with the cops went. As promised, I'm going to write it in Hindi, but will also translate since I already have a request for this to be in English.

Sub Inspector - Woh lal gadi tumhara hai kya? (Is that red vehicle yours?)
Me - Haan Sahib. Kyon? (Yes sir. Why?)
Sub Inspector - Bahut cheeeen cheeeen karti hai tumhari gadi (Your car does a lot of "cheeen cheeen")
*Spits tobacco to his left and very close to my slipper clad feet
Constable 1 - CHALAAA, gadi ka checking karne ka hai (COME ON, we need to check the car)
Me (almost trying to hold "it" between my legs) - Sahib, main shirt ghar pe dal ke aata hoon, mere ko toilet bhi jane ka hai (Sir, I'll leave the shirt at home and I also need to go to the toilet)
Sub Inspector - Chal, sirf do minute ka kaam hai (Let's go, it'll take 2 minutes)

So we walk toward my car about 20 meters away. Me with ironed shirts in one hand and my "thing" almost in the other.

Constable 1 - Gadi ko kholo (open the car)
**bee beep

Constable 1 and 2 start invading my car. Constable 2 finds the bottle of water in the seat pocket and hands it over to the Sub Inspector, who just opens it, without even asking me, and takes a big drink (obviously proving he's the BOSS). At this time, I'm still busy peeking into the car to see if the find anything weird and am subconsciously grabbing onto my crotch.

Sub Inspector - Aaaye, yeh paani garam kyon hai (Oi, why is this water warm)
Me (still holding my crotch) - Kaun sa paani sahib? (What water sir?)

He then looks at the bottle of water and looks down at my hand on my crotch and spits the water out. The look on his face was priceless!!

The watchman who came along with us, laughed so hard, that he had to run back into the building to avoid any trouble. The 2 constables laughed hard as well. The Sub Inspector slammed the bottle to the ground and spat the remaining water out and spat some more after that and wiped his lips at least 5 times on his shirt sleeve. Then he asked me very politely to go home.

I don't think he'll ever be trying to drink water of unknown people's cars. Actually I'm pretty sure.

P.S. I walked to the gate, almost pissing my pants (not out of fear, but out of the need to) and my watchman is huddled up in this corner laughing his ass off. He looked at me for a moment, and then laughed so hard that he let out a fart. Well, I think that was true laughter.

The detective.

I'm good at it. Really fucking good.

I've quit my job and my boss refused to accept my resignation, except that I know the law doesn't allow him to do that when I'm meeting the terms of my contract. So, because he knows that I know, he's helpless. It started a little difficult, yes, but I put my skills to it. The company fucked me over BIG TIME when I joined them and now they don't have a prayer. All I did was state the facts, with some research inference. But this is not the first time. It brought up a memory that I believe I should be proud of.

I was in the 8th grade. Circa 1995-96. I used to be in our school's RSP (road safety patrol) and a whole other ton of things (choir, boxing, chess, badminton, wasn't I a hot all rounder, etc.). We had a big week coming up and had safety drills practice everyday. We had to wear our entire kit the whole day (usually), which included a lanyard, beret, and shoulder RSP things that made us feel very proud. And it really went well with Bishop's maroon and yellow theme. We were the heroes those days.

This is where our story begins.

I would usually take off my kit after RSP "practice" at 7am before going for choir practice at 8am and keep it in my school bag. Everyone in RSP, choir and my class (8 B) knew that. A day before our big week, my entire stuff goes missing from my bag. I was shaken, cause I know mum wouldn't buy me a kit overnight. She would expect me to" find out" first as to what happened. I walked up to our class teacher in the staff room and told her my story. She is far from my being anyone that made a difference in life. The first question she asked of a 13 year old me was, "are you sure you wore the kit today"? I said,"yes ma'am, everybody saw me wear it". So, she called in a few people and asked them the question again. We had about 60 people in RSP and since our school's dress code was maroon and white, nobody remembered if I had the kit on that day. I was done.

I decided to investigate the matter. I made a list of my suspects.

First, the person that knew I had a kit that day. Second, it could only be someone from choir and RSP since they knew my routine. Third, it had to be someone that knew where my seat in class was so they could steal it. Last, it couldn't be someone from choir cause they would have been with me. 6 people were in RSP, only me in choir as well. That left 5 suspects in the class. 4 of them had kits all along and one had his parents buy him a kit for the big day, just the previous evening, which he would wear only the next day. His name was Jasdeep. Prime suspect. All I had to do was prove what he had done before the evening.

Jasdeep had a cocky, over smart younger brother in the 5th grade. The boy thought he was cooler than a blast freezer. He was my first target. I went up to his class and generally asked him if his parents were coming for the big day. He said, that his parents are not interested in stuff like RSP. Score. Which meant his parents wouldn't even see their son dressed in a kit which they "bought". Then I asked, if he'd seen his brother on practice, to which he said he had and that his brother was given a "new kit" for being the "best cadet" a day before, presentation to happen that afternoon. Brilliant. I asked him who did the presentation. He said, "The Leader". Not good. As it turns out, "The Leader" is a great friend of Jasdeep and he will obviously think something is wrong if I ask him a question. Time to turn the cocky, over smart kid on himself and his brother.

So, I asked him, if he had ever met "The Leader". The boy said he hadn't and I offered him a great chance to meet, shake hands and talk to him because I could arrange for the boy to meet what was a "good friend". He saw the opportunity in it and came with me. I told him when he meets "The Leader", he must thank him for gifting his brother the kit. The Leader, with an IQ of a chair, was the second target for reasons only I will ever know. They shook hands. The first thing the little smart ass says is, "Can I also get a kit"?. To which the dumb fuck leader replies, "What kit". The boy says, "The one you gave my brother yesterday. The victim of my superior conspiracy goes, "I didn't give Jasdeep the kit. You're parents bought it for him". Suddenly they realise I'm standing there with a smile on my face with another friend I asked to come along to witness "my theory".

Half an hour later, we have the class teacher walk in and deliver the verdict in front of 60 boys. She asked the class to clap for me, because I'd done all that without making a noise. Jasdeep cried as he returned my kit and he was obviously sorry. My mum never found out.

P.S. On the big day, Jasdeep had a brand new kit and his parents were in the stands. After the entire event, he took my hand and said his parents wanted to meet me. They gave me a foot long steel ruler, an big scented eraser and a Hero fountain pen in a packet that had "Sorry" written on it. Jasdeep told me the next day that was the only reason his parents came to see him. We're still friends.

This is a true story.

Faithless

Think of all the things you deeply believe in and you realise that they are all in a way taught to you by people you have faith in. No matter how much you think you're 'self made'.

Imagine living all your years looking up those people who you think were your definition of perfect. Imagine wanting to be like them, even if you could only be a little like them.

Now imagine, it taking a minute for you to realise all that was fake. Yes, that is how you lose faith in everything after..

Confrontation and I

I have always been a very non-confrontational kind of a guy. Almost always. In all my relationships I don't think I was ever the fighting/discussion type (almost all). I would rather leave things to get fixed by themselves." Time heals" is my mantra. I didn't realise how much this attitude, that may have only started as escapism (from things I did not want to think about), has actually become my nature. I find my self so often just ignoring things and thinking they will be fixed by some miraculous occurrence but now the shit has begun to pile up. I can feel it. I think what keeps me safe is that I always have a plan. So in a way, while I may not really fight, I have a plan for if it doesn't go my way. If I does then it's just status quo. Isn't it? Now here is the problem. I think people may have figured this about me and are using this against me to take away the things I deserve. They know I may "express" my unhappiness a little, but then I will just go away and get about doing something else. Not anymore! There are few things that are worth fighting and I promise I will fight The Devil himself if I have to for them.

But I must admit, being non-confrontational can be lonely 'cause as far as I'm concerned, if I don't want to deal with it, I don't want to discuss it. With anyone. Sadly, that doesn't stop the planning that comes instinctively, so at some level I'm still thinking about it.

Anyway.

I realise I have written quite a lot (by my usual standards) in the last few weeks. I'm not sure if that is a good thing or a bad one. I did book an incorrect flight ticket yesterday, a day after writing my last post and although I realised immediately what had happened, I had to shell out another 1500 rupees to amend my booking. All this in about 5 minutes. So I think I've still not passed the curse over. I also had quite a show down (over the phone) with the dude who hit my parked car (it pisses me off every time I think, "it was PARKED"), and that was mostly because he kept calling me "dear". No, not like "Dear Martin", just "dear". Like, "Listen to me dear...", "My car got hit so many times also dear..", "Blah blah blah.. dear..."!! I was so pissed off, that I swear I would have slapped him if he was in front of me (I told you I'm ALMOST always non confrontational). I know you're probably thinking, it's not that bad, right? Try reading all those sentence again and pronounce it as "dee-errr". Yeah, are you feeling it now??

Finally, I have just realised today, that Facebook may have actually saved me from a whole load of explaining that I couldn't really care about. I wish I could give you details, but trust me, they're not important to discuss.

That's it.

My shit luck!

Of late, I find myself being extremely unlucky a lot of times. Not a very good combination I can tell you (extremely unlucky + a lot of times = you’re fucked!). Yes, I started noticing this with some really stupid things, but as they start becoming bigger, I’m getting that fucked feeling for which I discovered the basic formula.  The other thing I’m beginning to fear is that it’s getting stronger the more I talk about it. It’s like one of those things that feeds on people’s fears (or some other shit).

It started with those football games where every team I supported and spoke about, lost! Once I started noticing the pattern, I decided not to say anything and then the Italians got bitch slapped by Spain (whom I was secretly supporting and no one knew, of course). Then there was the famous “near death experience” I wrote about in my last post and yesterday, I was almost convinced that I’m being unlucky a lot of times and I am hence.. you know what! I watched the first set of the Wimbledon final (it’s no secret that I support Federer) and then I had people texting me and asking me to stop watching it. I decided to provide a little more proof to my theory and drove off back to Bombay. Federer won the next three sets, The Wimbledon and regained world number 1 ranking. Not like that part is news to any one (except my dearest friend Vikram Bhalla maybe).

I was telling people in office about my recent experience with bad luck and laughing about it when the security for the building called to tell me that someone had banged into my car in the parking. SOMEONE HIT MY PARKED CAR!! The audience to my earlier discussion was quite stunned as I was also talking about my “feeds on fears” theory. Now no one will talk to me. Not even that person no one talks to! On further investigation of the events leading up to the incident, the guard tells me, it’s just bad luck! Not like I needed for him to tell me that. The guys that hit the car, offered to fix it but ask me to “adjust”. Whatever the fuck he meant by that. I’m still trying to understand how he managed to hit my little car when it was parked between two cars that are the size of a truck! Bad luck I suppose.

P.S.

Car banger – Boss, sorry. But please adjust.

Me – What is that supposed to mean?

Car banger – My car also got hit so many times and I never found the person who did it.

Me – That was your BAD LUCK! Ha!

There is hope. Yes.

Ageing? Me? No way!

On Thursday, at 1:30am I was still watching the England versus Ukraine game when suddenly I felt this massive pain in my chest and my right hand went completely numb. Yes, I know - WTF! Going by my little knowledge of diagnosis based on symptoms, the right hand was a good sign. I tried to remain calm and first called Rami then Herbert who woke my mum up. My mum, obviously extremely worried gave me a quick round of 20 questions on what I was feeling and then asked me to get a few meds (from the very dependable 24 hour medical store in Bombay, that delivers to your home). Her next set of instructions were for me to call some one who lives close by and let them know I may not see them ever again. That was a joke. She basically wanted to make sure I had someone close by who could take me to the hospital if needed. At this time my pulse was at about 130. 

So at about 2:30am I called a colleague of mine, Jerome, who obviously was sleeping away after a long day of hard work (may be), and he jumped out of bed to come over to my place. I had a difficult time convincing him that I will be alive the next morning and see him in office, but it finally worked. I went to office the next morning, worked the entire day, also drove 4 1/2 hours to Pune the next day and lived to write about it on my blog! The doctor did come over to office on Thursday and after doing a round of quick tests and asking me another set of 20 questions, she said it was gas ('caused by the one I didn't let go - I assume). I don't know if she intended pun. But how does that explain the numbing of my arm?  Well, that was due to the Cervical Spondylosis that I also apparently suffer from. It just got aggravated, possibly by gas(?). Some questions are best left unanswered I guess.


This was last week and I can tell you I'm absolutely fine now save for the Cervical Spondylosis. 

Although not serious, incidents like this do put a little seed of doubt in the mind. Am I really alright? Will I wake up in the morning? Should I drive for four hours straight? Should I drive at all? Most of all, is this all worth it? I know I'm not getting any younger and the sedentary lifestyle I live, it's a miracle I've not had anything serious. Well not yet at least. But a check up is in order soon and I have to admit I will be very nervous before the results come out. Is it possible to fail a blood test?

When I look back, I think this over confidence about my health issues does come from all those years of playing (being a "jock" as Kima put it). I remember inspite of being injured, I would still carry on with torturing myself. It was fun. But how those days come back to haunt me on a cold day. I know what my grandmother (who once fell off a cliff, down about a 100 feet) must feel like. I also think the reason I survive all the punishment I put my body through now (and let me tell you there are several) is because of those years. So at this rate, I should be able to get through a couple of years more before I need the walking stick, hearing aid, pacemaker, insulin shots, etc. The collar on the neck might happen much sooner though!

The good news is, I'm still here. So, smile (or frown if it suits you).

P.S.

Me - Doc, but why was my pulse 130?

Doc - Maybe because you thought you had a heart attack

Me - Oh, you mean like the storm before the calm? (heheheh)
Doc - But your pulse is absolutely fine now. Like the calm before..!!

BITCH!

Shaken, stirred and more

I know it’s been a lifetime since I wrote my last post. I’ve just been lazy and quite content with putting up fleeting thoughts on Facebook. Yes, you read that right and yes, for all those people that got trolled last year, you have been vindicated. I even have 585 friends (fuckin’ hell yeah!). How many do you have, huh?

A lot has happened in the last 5 months (damn, has it been that long?). The last post I wrote was about La Verde and since then, I’ve been to Manila twice again (for 6 weeks the second time), La Verde shut down, relocated and re-opened.  I was present for the shut down but not for the remaining festivities. But the good thing was that because they shut down, I discovered many other places and boy, am I glad I did! People think it’s awesome that I get to travel on my work to foreign lands (they also assume these are full of naked women ready to fall at your feet or… ahem). But honestly it is not all that. When you do travel, almost every single minute of your day is planned and every last drop of blood is sucked out from your body!! Okay, that may be a little too much but it is usually quite hectic and not always fun filled.

So what made me write after so long? I have been following this blog for some time now. Rami recommended it to me. Kima is a Mizo guy that lives in Bombay and after reading some of his stuff today, I really felt inspired to write again. Even if that means it’ll be just this one post. Apart from that, I’ve also been feeling completely betrayed at work, and I would usually hold back on saying something like this in a public forum so you can imagine the extent of my frustration right now. I would like to go into the details of what happened, but I don’t think anyone would be interested in that. Let’s just say, that after having worked my ass off so hard for the last one year, ignoring my near and dear, never having the time (and being absolutely pooped or shitfaced when I do have the time), I have just been let down  so bad. I usually like to think of myself as someone who would pick up the pieces and move on pretty quickly. But not this time, no. I refuse to be tormented by corporate decisions anymore. What am I going to do about it? That I will not mention here, but as with everything else in my life I have a plan and a plan B (and Plan B2!). But worry not, It won’t kill me (or so I hope).

The funny thing is I’ve always had amazing bosses. They have all been amazing human beings but I used to have a team of people working with me at one time and I think I was not a bad human being either, but most importantly I think I was a strong boss. This is what people look for; this is at least what I would look for.

Anyway.

Of late, I’m beginning to feel like age is catching up with me. Yes, I’m going to be 30 in November (*realization - holy shit!) and I still feel like I have so much to do. A lot of my friends, who not too long ago were getting married, now have babies or are pregnant or realizing their marriage is not working and I’m still a long way off square one. And I’m not a commitment phobe (well, not completely at least). To start with, I have started liking veggies, I love watching the news (financial news is orgasmic) and food shows and I cannot cross the road without thinking everyone of the motorists are a part of some conspiracy to knock my behind off the road. The other day I almost wore my trousers till my chest! Is anybody feeling what I’m talking about? The cock up is that people generally say the body ages and not the heart. For me it the other way round**! I FEEL OLD!! I think I’m just going to pick up my walking stick and leave now.

I haven’t stuck to the resolution that I made in the beginning of the year and that is not anything new as far as resolutions go. I remember about 10 years ago I started making resolutions every year for the next 5 to quit smoking. I quit making resolutions after.
More later. Hopefully.

P.S. **If your nose runs and your feet smell, you’re built the wrong way