My Backpacker's Diary... Part III

(This was posted on 26th December 2006)

Earlier parts:
My Backpacker's Diary.. Part I
My Backpacker's Diary.. Part II

A screeching halt, a coarse voice announcing that we are halting for food and commotions among the co-passengers brought me back from my reverie. Not feeling hungry because of the heavy breakfast, I was slowly coming to my senses when my eyes suddenly popped up. I saw a cutie-pie standing up two rows behind mine on the other side. My first instinct was to check whether I was still in a trance. I couldn’t believe that I failed in finding her out in the first time itself. I mean, how could I…

Anyway, not wanting to waste more time, I first checked who were accompanying her - a bespectacled boy, a middle-aged uncle and of-course, a middle-aged aunty. They were going to the restaurant out-side and naturally, I followed them. A few glances and a few tricks, and I could start a conversation with the boy with the glasses. A few more niceties later, and a few furtive glances afterwards, I decided to talk to them as soon as we reached the destination. Finally, after almost five hours of bitter sweet journey, we reached PuttaParthi.

After alighting, I started talking to the middle-aged uncle, asking for his help in going about the Darshan. But to my bewilderment, they were not going for Darshan, or so it seemed. They headed straight to a hotel. I could see the cutie-pie exchanging smiles with her brother, well aware that I have failed, failed again.

I was feeling disappointed, ruing all the missed chances that life offered me. They flashed by as life supposedly flashes back before the eyes of a dying man. As Yogi Berra would have said - Its déjà vu all over again. You know it, another chance gone awry… chances, that come few and far in between.

But, Hey! As Yogi would have said – Its aint over till it’s over. You know chances will come. Just be more alert next time around… you never know... As the cliché goes... Buses and girls keep coming. Just be ready for it…

I joined the queue of the devotees waiting to get a glimpse of the BABA. I talked to a few people, from India and abroad. I was impressed at the numbers of followers the BABA has, gathered a lot of information about BABA’s miracles, his charitable works and lots of other things. After a long wait, saw the smiling BABA for whom I had traveled for five hours from Bangalore, and I along with others bowed before Him.

Followed it with a visit to other places of interests such as the Ashram canteen, the numerous educational institutions, the super-specialty hospital, the Gokulam or the cow shed of the Ashram and after shopping for a few souvenirs, it was time for me to board the return bus. Everybody inside was agog with his or her own account of the BABA.

Slowly, the tiredness of the journey gripped them and almost all of them were sleeping. I also thanked God for a fruitful journey, praying for a better life and luck next time around.

We reached Bangalore around mid-night, tired but satisfied… just almost the way one feels after a spontaneous, passionate round of love making.

Spent… yes, but you know it’s well spent...

Wish all of you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year 2006.

My Backpacker's Diary... Part II

(This was posted on 26th December 2005)

Also:
My Backpacker's Diary... (Part I)

The next thing one generally does is to give a look at the co-passengers and exchange a few half smiles. I also try to study their profile; and unmistakably, journey after journey, year after year, their types always remain similar. An old retired couple in the front seats; one or two small groups of friends; a couple of family groups with small or grown-up kids; a few individual passengers, two of them would be furiously devouring the newspaper as if their lives depended on it; and of-course, a newly-wed couple to complete the list. Of all the places, why do honeymooners choose PuttaParthi is beyond my comprehension. It might be God’s way of maintaining the normal distribution; or may be they wanted to take divine blessings before starting on the act… a little bit of extra help, you never know.

The bus maneuvered through the streets and traffic to reach the Hyderabad highway, also known as the Bellary highway, passing by the Golf club, Palace grounds, Hebbal and Yelahanka in between and the splendid air force station afterwards. In the mean time I was enjoying the beauty of an idyllic Saturday morning Bangalore.

The cold December weather was already working its magic on the newly-weds. By virtue of being strategically seated, I was able to see all the coochi-cooing they were involved in. The resulting effect was almost unbearable. There is no better way to remind a person about the uselessness of his life. Throw him on a long journey on a wintry morning without a suitable female companion and curse him to watch all these with furtive glances. Probably, the closest competitor would be the plight of a full grown young man in a harem, watching the inhabitants busy in work, with his hands and legs tied to two poles far apart. Oh merciful God, where art Thee? Curse me to a life of loneliness and solitude. I shall gladly accept that; at least porn is freely available in the corner CDs shop and I have a running account with them.

Instead of reminding myself of my incompetence in overcoming forced celibacy, I decided to do something positive and turned towards the person on the side seat. This gentleman, about forty, had his forehead smeared with 3 lines of ash and a round vermilion spot in the middle. My sudden directional shift startled him… gotcha… he was of course using his height to see the spectacle. After the first minute of awkwardness and discussion on a few desultory topics, the talk veered towards God and His miracles… aaahhhh… I felt like caught between the devil and the deep sea. After almost rudely avoiding him, I spared myself of further boredom.

Two people in the front seats were talking loudly to each other; may be with a desire to make others privy about the affairs of their office, interjected, of course, with subtle Hindi invectives suitable for the person concerned, depending upon whether that is the boss they are talking about, or one from the same department, or from a different department; and, a few loud mobile calls in between. The retired couple, after a few rounds of bhajans, was deep in sleep, troubling none afterwards. The small kids were busy among themselves, sometimes fighting, sometimes laughing for no apparent reason; in short being very much like kids and their parents, well, very much like parents.

Having nothing better to do, I decided to indulge myself with the favourite pass time of the intellectuals. The morning haziness was slowly getting cleared; the sun was slowly coming to its full force. I could see a hill near Yelahanka losing its greenery for the builders’ trucks were busy carrying the crushed stones from the hill. I could also see small children working as hawkers and selling their stuffs to the passersby for a few rupees daily. I analyzed that politicians are the reason behind all these; of course the prevailing corruption is a major factor, but that also could be attributed to the politicians. Satisfied with my efforts at finding the root cause to the problems of the country, I slowly plunged into a reverie…

Next: My Backpacker's Diary... (Part III)

My Backpackers Diary.... (Part I)

(This was posted on 26th December 2005)

Going on a journey is like having sex; spontaneity brings out the best. And, the less elaborate the plan, the better it is. Once into the mood, it makes you feel restless till its over. True, there are moments of awkwardness, but these moments enhance the whole experience – like, so to say, the black spots enhancing the beauty of the moon. It’s especially so when one charters into an unknown territory. The adventure and accompanying experience stays memorable for a long-time to come.

This Christmas eve the first thing I decided on the morning was to go on a trip to PuttaParthi in Andhra Pradesh, the abode of SAI BABA. Now, why I decided on this, I do not know; especially when it’s so un-cool to go to religious places when there are lots of happening places around. But, as I told you earlier, once decided, it’s tough to come out of the mood. So, lots of sniggers, curious looks and snide remarks later, I decided to embark on the journey, solo.

Knowing not how to go, the first thing I did was to reach the central bus-stand called Majestic. The Saturday morning Bangalore traffic was uncharacteristically fast, fortunately. After the inquiry and ticket reservation was done, the next task was to go for a nice heavy breakfast, which I did knowing fully well that the bus would stop only at a place where the best combo of high price and bad food would be available. In no time afterwards, I proceeded in a bus to PuttaParthi, with thirty odd passengers for company, almost all of them busy in adjusting their luggage.

Now, luggage adjustment has a curious characteristic; the strategically found places are designed to help you reach your bag and simultaneously cause inconveniences to your co-passengers (the latter more than the former, I suspect), who return the complements by merrily walking all over your bags and forgetting to apologize. The bus staff do ask to keep only the essential bags near the seats and rest in the boot, but well, Jesus wont proclaim you a sinner for considering all your luggage as essential and worthy of being needed during the journey.

Next:
My Backpacker's Diary... (Part II)
My Backpacker's Diary... (Part III)

The Age of Excuses or In Defence of the Most Creative Art... (Part II)

Nor would have the budding Romeos thrived...

Sample this…

Juliet: (furiously) You are late again… What happened???

Romeo: I am so sorry, darling. I was on my way, but I was so busy dreaming about you that I caught the wrong bus.

Juliet: Oh, is that so?... Well, don’t get late next time... By the way, what is that in your hand?

Snip… snip… snip…

And, the love quotient increases.

Or, sample this one…

Juliet: You are late again… all men are like this only (sob… sob…)

Romeo: No darling, I was searching for the most beautiful rose that I could give to you. You see I just can’t give you any ordinary one. After all, you are so special…

Juliet: You liar… I never believe you... By the way... do you really feel so…

Snip… snip… snip…

And, the love quotient increases, again.

Salute comrade, I reaffirm my belief…

Long ago, when the king ruled the land, life was a lot easier. When the postman took the letter, there was really no scope for any proof that you really sent the said letter and it was such an easy task for people to deny the receipt of it. (Note: I don’t deny the existence of some complicated mechanism, but for the sake of argument, let’s keep it simple… anyway, a romantic card in a registered parcel would look more like a court summon than anything else)

Sigh… gone are those days.

Some wisecrack misanthrope thought of getting his 15 minutes of fame and devised the e-mail system with a sent box, storing all copies for future reference, and thought he has a winner in his hand. But, he underestimated men’s (and women’s) potential… he couldn’t hide his back from the onslaught of Server down / PC not working / Net not connecting, etc., etc…

Wretched duffer… overestimated himself... learnt a lesson at his own expenses.

It would have been such a pity had people stopped making excuses.

Aha, those were the days, when I could sneak from the school for that all-important gilli-danda (for all those uninitiated… it’s a primitive form of baseball / cricket, played with 2 sticks, one long, other small… almost extinct nowadays) by just feigning an ache in the stomach…

But, I became complacent and got caught as I relied on the same excuse over and over again… till a chance discovery taught me that you could also stay away from school when your granny was hospitalized… eureka… I reaped a lot from this latest discovery till one proud (and greedy) moment I confided it to a friend for a few lollypops and… the next day, at least 5 of us had their grannies hospitalized for the same reason…

A very important lesson for our tribe… whether you have chanced upon an excuse, or for that matter any trade secret… even MMS… don’t sell it for nuts. The IIT lad landed in jail and I still remember the crackling canes…

From the wannabe heroine who is ready to expose because the scene demands it… (Well, what excuse the porn stars have??? You guessed it right… the scene demands it)... to the item “Kantaa Lagaa” girls on a mission to cleanse the society of age-old barbarian practices, to the new kid in the office who would sneak an evening with his newly wed, to the balding officer who would rather stay with the beautiful secretary than his nagging wife, excuses have always helped mankind stay hale and hearty.

Let’s look at some more benefits… the student gets reduced punishments or at least, extra time for homework, if s/he can come up with a believable excuse... the employee can goof up and still please his boss with a more creative one... and the bespectacled government clerk can get more boxes of sweets for his children if he can come up with some real smart ones laced with subtle hints to the petitioner.

Of all the excuses given by anyone in earth, the ones by the politicians would rank amongst the best… same issues, same excuses… year after year... elections after elections… such priceless gems… you couldn’t become more consistent. They, with their consistency vow, have saved countless brain-hours & the exchequer millions of rupees by not wasting time and money in futile hunts for newer issues.

Cheers… the time and money could be used for better purposes… hic…

The list is endless. And, I am not counting the mother of all excuses… WMD…

Mr. President (in his Texan drawl): Pardner… you justa can’t ruin that goddamn country to ashes with no other method.

To support the cause of the tribe in general, here you are reminded of an incident concerning the almighty. When asked, why there are so much of imperfections in this world, HE, the almighty, resorted to the men’s patented art and proffered the excuse that it is part of a strategy to balance his creation…

Look, we are in good company.

P.S. The creatively challenged can still hope to match their more fortunate brethren with the help of this most wonderful invention since the wheel.. The Random Excuse Machine

Till next time... Ciao.

The Age of Excuses or In Defence of the Most Creative Art... (Part I)

I shudder from the thought of a world without excuses.

Not convinced? All right, let’s see why it is so.

We start with the basics... the definition... though a very bland one for something that brings out the creative best in people. An Excuse is defined as "An act to explain (a fault or an offense) in the hope of being forgiven or understood." (Reference: Dictionary.com).

Great people have condemned this act and its (supposed) absurdity. Excuses are considered as the example of utter incompetence… But, they have preferred to overlook its virtues. Let's give it it's due and view it in a more positive light.

I consider an act of making excuses as the biggest phenomenon in earth. When the need arises, even the most autistic deadwood, also, can come up with lots of good excuses that one has never heard before. Hence, the first lesson... Life would be less interesting without this biggest (I repeat... biggest) phenomenon on earth.

Stay put, my dear friend, we are going to come across lots more as we progress along...

Despite all concerted efforts to denounce this phenomenon, this has thrived, and is thriving well. The most pertinent example for this is the fact that, we still make it... and we are getting better at that everyday. Shows the tenacity of men (and women) in the face of savage onslaught...

Before the anti-modernist come out, and start making all those noises, let me assure you, this is not a modern media creation. This is an age-old art, which has inspired many interesting episodes since long... and helped in mending many a broken heart.

The Holy Bible lists many instances where excuses were given. Let's start with the primary one...

(Genesis 2:16-17) And the LORD God commanded the man, saying, Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat: But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die.

When confronted with their sin Adam blamed Eve, Eve blamed the serpent and the serpent slinked away.

(Genesis 3:12-13) And the man said, The woman whom thou gavest to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat. And the LORD God said unto the woman, What is this that thou hast done? And the woman said, The serpent beguiled me, and I did eat.

Look at the positives. If Adam and Eve would not have come out with such a beautiful excuse, the whole human race would have become so boring… so utterly plain… and we all would have certainly missed those Bangaru-sque lines from our daily newspapers (“Oh, I was just taking money for the party’s cause...”).

Next is The Age of Excuses or In Defence of the Most Creative Art... (Part II)