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.