The Bangalore Chronicles-The one about the mad driver(s)

Transport in Bangalore is such that the city is well connected, just that your throat is no longer so to your body. The spanking new deluxe Volvos with their hydraulic brakes ensure you pay literally as well as figuratively because the drivers believe very strongly in testing the brakes frequently, usually an inch before they hit bikers (who are mostly suicidal on the highways, anyway). If you are on a seat in the direction of motion, good luck landing on the lap of the person sitting opposite you (pray it’s not of the opposite gender, because, my god, the looks! And no, no the ooh-wouldn’t-mind-landing-on-his/her-lap kind, but the puddle-on-the-floor kind). If you are sitting against the motion, good luck with your whiplash. If you are standing, good luck. Period.
The auto drivers (autos here ply like cabs do in Calcutta) believe they are Schumacher’s long lost brothers and with double his skill. And they usually ensure that you hand over a couple of organs at the end of the ride because you cannot forage out those sums of money any other way. It hurts.
The best experience, however, has been with this particular driver of a bus (the smaller Swaraj Mazdas that are so very popular here) over the really really long flyover from about electronic city to madivala (which incidentally is an awesome ride). The standard speed for that driver is about 100 kmph over the flyover. It was raining that day, so out of consideration of the wet road he decided to-what he believed-trundle at a leisurely 80 kmph. It was also extremely windy, and that speed did not help matters, so the curtains were flying all over. I had my eyes closed and was praying to the bus-gods. When I opened them things weren’t much better. We seemed to have sped up a bit. And our driver’s hands were no longer on the steering wheel because he was busy fighting with the curtains of his window. Aaaaah! I immediately close my eyes and pray a little harder. Next when I open them we were still rushing at that speed, but our driver was no longer fighting with the curtains. Now he was hanging half out of the bus through his window to open and position the side view mirror for another bus that was rushing just beside us!! If it had not been for a friend sitting beside me confirming the incident I would have convinced myself I imagined the whole thing. We did reach our destination safely that day. The bus-gods were listening.

Blanks

I'm drawing a blank. It's actually quite easy to draw. Of all my status messages on Facebook, this is the one I remember. Yes, I realize that my life lacks something if I build posts around status messages on facebook. But seriously, I'm drawing a blank. See? Its such a lovely expression that describes very aptly the condition I am in. And so much is drawn from it. F(blank)(blank)(blank). You know exactly what I mean, don't you? In class, nothing irritates the...'blank'..out of teachers more than seeing a completely blank expression on the student's face after one hour of almost non-stop, well, 'blank'. With some exceptions of course. Of course, its not a weapon only in the hands of students. the administrative system is quite apt in the use of such excellent methods of warfare. We explain to them painstakingly slowly for quite a while why we should get a refund, or money needed for a fest, or other college activities, and they will give you the best blank stare there can ever possibly be! A 'blank', I have come to conclude, is the handiest expression there is. It is also the deadliest. So the term 'firing blanks' should actually refer to something really, really dangerous. And not something seedy. Excuse the pun.

Interests

I get a new interest every other week. The problem is that barely any manage to stay. I get addicted quick and easy, and then drop 'em like hot stones in a couple of days. But I have finally found something I have managed to hang on to for a long time ( you realise that this is a relative term) after a long time. Its football. Weirdly enough, it started like medicine, and THEN I got the kick (excuse the pun). I suppose thats what made the difference, and now I am addicted. I had started supporting the adopted club when it was as its lowest, and I have improved with it from being a distanced spectator to a crazy, cheering, fanatic. I'm not sure thats a very good thing, the fanatic part, but what the heck- I'm having a blast. And I'm proud of myself.....and mostly because I can now appreciate other perspectives, and try them out myself, and somewhat because I no longer say 'Whats of interest in an event where 22 players kick the crap out of a peice of pigskin...or whatever synthetic fibre they use now'
Hmmm... there's more to sports than meets the eye. Who would have thought I'd wring moral philosophy out of it.

A Different Beat

Do ants get lost? They have a whole system worked out where each ant knows its place in the social hierarchy of ants and they work tirelessly to fulfill the role of their status. But no matter how much Discovery or Animal planet I watch, I have never seen a show where they focus on anything beyond the groups of ants maintaining their status quo without a single protest. Do they have protests? Do they have major revolutions which totally mix-up the social order and usher in a new era? Can ants rise up the ranks? Do ants have a possibility of social mobility? I cannot imagine how they eternally slave on over the same task day after day, and not get bored out of their mind. And what happens to the ants who march a different beat? Who rebel against the suffocating system to go find own place in the world- what about the explorer ants? Other than the ones which end up biting unmentionables and dying a rather inglorious death, that is. Poor things- scared and alone and cornered. They never had a chance. Suddenly I feel like an ant. Sigh.

Maturity

Its been a really long time since I have been to any amusement park. Also known as theme parks. I wonder why. The only theme I can associate with it is FUN, which is really a good enough theme, but still. Ok, I'm getting distracted. As I was saying, I think one of the greatest joys in life is to be able to sit on a high, fast ride and have the time of your life. Once I get on that ride (my personal favourites being the hoop de loop, the roller coaster and the scarier versions of the flying saucer). I also love scary rides. They scare the crap out of me and I love them! For those hundred and twenty odd seconds I can leave everything behind and go into a world of my own, and I mean every single thing. My troubles fade, my mind blanks out and I'm in a world of my own where time stands still. I believe no matter how mature and grown up people think they have become, you can always bring out the child in them in an amusement park. I dont claim to be either mature or grown up, so I like to think I get maximum benefit out of such places. And when I feel even the slightest bit..ummm...adulterated, I just look at my facebook 'How mature are you?' quiz result. It says I have the maturity of a 5-year-old. I'm too embarrassed to publish it, but I still get plenty of joy out of it.

Gone

It is weird how we deal with people close to us leaving . By leaving , I don't mean dying, I mean going away somewhere else-to some other city, or country, or Timbuktu..... Some people weep copiously, bid their tearful goodbyes, make promises of calling everyday etc. etc. Some people are stoic. They show no emotion whatsoever, and pine away inside. And some people treat the departing like they are departing from this world. They will see every moment as the last time they will ever do that, be there, say this etc. etc. , make a million 'memories', gift a scrapbook with 'wonderful' moments captured forever on Kodak (or any other brand, not an issue) cameras and so on. (This is not to say there are no other classifications) I don't know yet to which category I belong. but to please my ego, I pretend I am totally cool- a little sad, but be optimistic about seeing him or her someday soon, and stay in touch like nothing has changed. Which should not be too difficult given that communication technology is so advanced. Yet once someone leaves, we end up deleting them from our lives. So much for communication tech. Whoever said distance makes the heart fonder, was talking out of his/her ass.
Many think that it is harder on the people leaving. I think its hardest on the people left behind. They are the ones who will have to go through everyday with a chunk missing. Temporarily, anyway. The one leaving will have a new place, new people and often, a new life. Therein begins the distance- physical and emotional, leading to the fissure.
I just wonder whether we really are that busy, or simply too lazy. Sigh.

Lessons

When the time is just right, everything happens just perfectly...to ensure we fall flat on our nether-regions.
But then we realise the kick was just what we needed for a jumpstart.

What are we? Decrepit old cars?

I think its much better to learn a lesson from success than from failure.